#So yeah she's gonna haunt everyone who took a part of her in some way

[hajihiko]

Spooky time

[lyricswrittenbythesecretdreamer]

Haunted Pt 2

Hi everyone! Thanks so much for the fantastic reception on Part 1, it really made me want to write some more to this little story! Here's Part 2, I hope you enjoy it as much as the last one.

Summary: Reader remembers a party she was at, and the Ghoul causes trouble in a saloon.

“Are you enjoying the party?”   

I looked over to my left to see Barb Howard approaching me. She was completely impeccable – her dark skin was glowing, and she had the best-looking hair in the room. Her dress was a beautiful peach colour, and she had a string of pearls around her neck that were probably worth more than all the alcohol spilling at the party. Beside her, I felt ever so slightly dull.   

“Oh, me and Jackie are having such a good time,” I nodded towards the toilets, “he’s currently taking a bathroom break.”   

I felt the need to accentuate my husband’s appearance next to Barb, and I breathed a sigh of relief when Jackie appeared from the toilet and smiled widely at us.   

“Barb, this is a spectacular event. You lot at Vault-Tec certainly know how to throw a party!” he laughed, and I felt a wave of jealousy come over me as she laughed alongside him. Jackie was so good at this – talking to people he barely knew, making them feel like he really cared about them even if he didn’t give a whatsits. “Me and my wife here barely get a chance to go out together at the minute, this filming is taking awfully long.”   

I noticed he winced as he said this, and Barb’s face fell ever so slightly. The one thing we’d both agreed not to mention tonight was the film because we knew I was already on Barb’s bad side after she’d seen The Man from Calabasas. I’d never taken her as a jealous type, but after the premier had finished, Barb had become immediately cold towards me. Her irritation at my presence got worse with Under the Covers, and this one we were currently shooting often had visits to set from Cooper’s wife, who apparently was under the impression I was screwing her husband.   

Not even my marriage had convinced her otherwise and she’d been invited to the wedding.  

“Well, you and I are both feeling the loneliness from our spouses’ schedules, although Cooper’s is most definitely busier.”   

I sucked in a deep breath at her veiled insult, but Jackie just put his hand on the small of my back and pointed to the corner.   

“Look, darling, there’s Charlie,” he smiled politely at Barb, and she forced one back at us. “my apologies, Mrs Howard, but I think we’re being waved over.”   

We walked away from her, and Jackie let out an unhappy sigh.   

“God, you’d think that you’d be flirting with that woman’s husband off-camera with the way she acts towards you.”   

“I barely flirt with him on camera, darling.” I chuckled, and he took me in his arms, placed his hands on my waist and kissed me deeply.  

“I love you, darling.” He said softly, and I smiled back, feeling myself getting lost in his gaze.  

“I love you too, Jackie,” I replied, “I love you very much.”   

***  

“Earth to Little Miss Ryder, are you even fuckin’ listening to me?”   

I turned to the Ghoul, who was waving a gloved hand in my face. I jumped slightly and sent him an uneasy nod. We were walking past the remains of what seemed to be a forest, with trees that were coming back stronger than they’d grown before. Walking along the treeline gave us a bit of shade from the burning sun, but the Ghoul had been shifty since we’d left the hut that morning, looking in every direction at once as if something was going to appear all at once out of nowhere.  

“Yeah, sorry. Just got distracted thinking about someone. I mean, something.”   

“Well, you better keep fuckin’ focused 'cause I think I can see what passed that hut last night.” He gestured in front of me, and I gasped as I saw what he meant.   

Up in the distance, shuffling around aimlessly, was another ghoul.   

“Has it seen us?” I whispered, but he shook his head.   

“Nah, I don’t think so,” he hissed back, “but we’re gonna have to pass it at some point, and it’s definitely feral.”   

In front of us, the feral ghoul began to turn towards us and suddenly I was being pulled behind a tree. He pulled out his gun and gestured for me to do the same.   

“Hey, uh, I should probably have asked you this before, but what’s your name? I don’t want to go ‘hey ghoulie’ and have you both turn to look at me.”   

“I don’t have one.”   

“What do you mean you don’t have one?”   

“I. Don’t. Have. One. Okay?”   

“Everyone has a name!”   

“Oh for fuck’s sake, just call me Sherrif!” he spat out, before leaping out behind the tree and shooting the feral in the head.   

“What kind of a fuckin’ name is Sherrif?” I almost laugh at the implications – this fucking Ghoul, who dressed like a cowboy with a secret love of Westerns wanted to be called Sherrif?   

“It’s my fuckin’ name, Missy.”   

“No, it ain’t.”   

“Yes, it is.”   

The feral currently on the floor began to move again, but Sherrif shot it again, still glaring at me.   

“It’s a fucking stupid name – makes you sound like a dog.”   

He lunged at me – grabbed onto my neck and shoved me against the tree we’d just been hiding behind.   

“Maybe I just am a dog, Missy. I certainly seem to be followin’ you around like one.”  

“Yeah, that’s what I’m fuckin’ paying you for, Sherrif,” He let out an irritated huff, and let me go, adjusting his belt.   

“Never meet your fuckin’ heroes,” he sighed and shook his head. I only let out another laugh and shrugged.   

“I was never the hero, Sherrif. I was the always the damsel in distress, gettin�� tied up by some evildoer and Coop’s character would have to rescue me.”   

“You were pretty fuckin’ fiesty for a damsel in distress.”   

“Only ‘cause the old perverts that liked watching Coop’s pictures liked to see a woman’s titties jiggle as she fought off the evil outlaw.”  

Walking away from the scene, the bounty hunter Ghoul became talkative in a way he hadn’t been before last night.   

“What was it like actin’ alongside the infamous Cooper Howard?” I raised my eyebrows at him, but he only shrugged. “I’m just interested to know if he was a fuckin’ arsehole like actors usually are.”   

“What do you know about actors, Sherrif?”   

“Been around a long time, I suppose.”   

“I can fuckin’ believe that one,” he shot me a dirty look, but I only grinned, “anyway, Coop was actually a pretty nice guy, for the most part. Though it is his fuckin’ fault I’m out here and not sittin’ pretty in a vault with my husband.”   

“The vaults aren’t all they were cracked up to be,” the Sherrif grimaced, and adjusted his hat, “you’re probably better off out here.”   

“You might be right, to be fair. But if I saw him walkin’ ‘round today, I’d sock him right on the mouth.”   

“Haven’t you done that before anyway?” I roll my eyes at his attempt at a joke, but I can’t help but smile.   

“We were acting.”   

“Were you?”   

“Of course I was!” I slap him on the arm, and he grins down at me. For a second, I’m not in the wasteland – I’m back on set with Cooper and Jackie or Greg and we’re just laughing about some dumb shit on the script. Then the wasteland appears before us again and I’m no longer home.   

***  

The next settlement we arrived at was substantial but quiet. The people there didn’t seem scared of us as we dragged ourselves to the watering hole, but there was a look in their eyes like you’d see in a prey animal. We handed over a few caps to the bartender in exchange for a drink and some directions to somewhere to kip for the night.   

“Jus’ head over to Mister J’s place. It’s on the high street, opposite the junk shop. Can’t miss it.”   

“Thank you kindly, sir,” I said, turning back to face the Sherrif. He was looking around us with a hint of suspicion on his face, and I handed him his drink. “what’s up, Sherrif? Does this saloon reek of outlaw or somethin’?”   

The Sherrif grunted but nodded all the same.   

“Somethin’ like that, little Missy. Somethin’ ain’t right here.”   

We hadn’t been sitting in the bar long before that something walked right in, a rather substantial gun in his hand and a crazed look in his red-rimmed eyes. The bar went completely silent, and the ghoul next to me immediately put a hand on his own gun.  

So far, apart from the trouble with raiders and fiends and all that shit, we hadn’t faced a huge threat. But between the haunted looks of the settlement inhabitants, and the coked-up-looking man standing next to the bar, I was sure this was going to be trouble. It reminded me of a scene from Under the Covers, where I’d played a sultry young woman hiding a dark secret opposite Cooper’s detective and he’d got into a bar fight over a mafiosa’s wandering hands.   

I shook my head at the Sherrif, who seemed to be moments away from pulling out his gun and firing it at the coked-up crazy man before he decided to fire at anyone else. He frowned but shifted anyway and pulled his hat further over his face. The sudden intruder whispered something in the ear of the bartender, who had become very interested in the glass he’d been polishing. He put the glass down and poured the man a beer, before quickly going back to polishing his glasses.   

From where we were sat, I had a pretty good view of the dude – his red eyes, thick beard, the bloodied fist clenched around his beer glass. I looked back over at the Sherrif, whose eyes were trained on the gun in the man’s other bloodied hand.   

I made eye contact with the Sherrif and then looked over to the door. He seemed to get my meaning, and we were about to get up when the crazed man began to talk.   

“You got the caps for this month, Jim?” he asked, and the barman cowered, before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Sir, I haven’t been able to make the full amount since that shootout last month, I just need-”   

“So you don’t have my fucking caps, is that what you’re saying?”  

“No, Sir.”   

At this point, I could see that the barman was shaking, and the other man was holding up his gun, not quite pointing it, but holding it up as if he were inspecting it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Sherrif shift in his seat, and his hand returned to the pistol.   

“Well then, I guess I gotta give you a little more time then, eh? A little bit more time to make a few more caps, yeah?”   

“Yes Sir, please. I only need a couple more days.” I was almost certain that the barman was close to shitting himself, and I was beginning to panic that we would be next.  

I remembered men like these – men who would come into the brothel with their guns, pointing them at any whore who dared disobey.  

I remembered shooting a few of them.  

I watched, half in horror and half in dull apathy as the coked-up man raised his gun to the head of the barman, who had resorted to whimpering in fear. There was a click, as he pulled the trigger, but no gunshot ran out.   

The barman let out a cry, but the other man just began to laugh.   

“You got til’ tomorrow. If I don’t get my caps, I’ll shoot you in the fucking head for real.”   

The barman whimpered a thank you and then seemed to crumple to his knees in relief, disappearing from view.   

I let out a sigh of relief of my own, and I saw the Sherrif remove his hand from his holster. I relaxed my shoulders and leaned back into my chair and I saw my companion relax a little himself.   

“Now, what have we got here?”   

Shit. I took a quick look over to the Sherrif, who was currently in a staring contest with the apparent landlord of the saloon.   

“Me and my companion here are just a couple wanderers, enjoying a quick drink,” I hastily begin, “We won’t be sticking around long.”  

“You know, you don’t see many ghouls around these parts.” The Sherrif remained silent, so I attempted to step in again.   

“We’ll be on our way very soon,” I said, “We’re not sticking around, like I said.” I looked over to the Sherrif as I did so, who raised his glass to the Landlord and downed the rest of his drink.   

“You look very familiar, young lady,” the Landlord began, “Have we met before?”  

I shook my head and forced out a smile.   

“We’re nobodies, Sir. Just your average wastelanders.”   

He looked us over, for a moment, before standing aside.   

“Off you go then, average wastelanders.” He had a sneer painted across his scarred, hairy face that I didn’t like but at least he was letting us go.   

We got to the door of the saloon and were about to walk out and find wherever Mr J’s was when the Landlord’s voice called out to us once again.   

“I know where I remember you, Little Missy,” my breath caught in the back of my throat and I clenched my jaw. “You work at that brothel near Scrapheap, right? You were a slave there.”   

“I earned my freedom,” I bit out, “I don’t work there anymore.” 

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just knock you out and sell you back to it? I’m sure they’re missing their best worker.” He leered at me and I felt myself shiver. His eyes felt like they were piercing right through my bones. I opened my mouth to speak again, but I was interrupted before I could make a sound.   

“You try anythin’ and I’ll shoot a bullet through your thick fuckin’ skull, alright?” Beside me, the Sherrif grinned and pointed his gun at the man in front of us. “I’d say that’s one good fuckin’ reason.”   

The Landlord let out a loud, unhinged laugh. A few people around us began to laugh as well, and then the Ghoul standing next to me began to laugh as well.   

He shot at the Landlord, and all hell broke loose. 

[writingismylove]

one makes all the difference

Chapter 4: let the scheming begin

A scheme is hatched and maybe, just maybe, Fox has a crush.

Warnings: none

Notes: Yeah I forgot about this. My bad. I’ll try to update more I promise 😭

Enjoy!

Commanders + Rex

traumatized: okay has everyone been informed of the chips

Kenobi's bitch: yeah what the fuck is that about

Colt 45: how in the hell did we miss this

Tire: does it matter? we need to figure out how to get rid of them all

traumatized: my jedi ordered every Guard chip to be removed. she's going through them all. each one has kill orders for the jedi on it

T-Rex: could we try to do the same? i know our medic would do it

Kenobi's bitch: we could. is that working for you fox

traumatized: yes

Monkey: can we tell our jedi? it will be much easier to get rid of them if we do

traumatized: Adaris took care of that

Pond water: first name basis huh ;)

traumatized: shut the fuck up

Aayla's husband: alright so we got a plan over here

Chomp: so do we

Gee: us too

Colt 45: Shaak and I are going to do our best to get the chips out of everyone on Kamino. It's gonna take a while though

traumatized: if we can save our jedi, it's worth it

*

Four months later...

Fox sighed in relief. He'd just received a report from the last chipped battalion that every clone has been dechipped. Removing the chips could have taken half the time but concealing it from the chancellor and his allies made everything take longer. Adaris had done her part in creating various different cover stories for the Guard and even other battalions including investigating a slave ring, a deathstick empire, a betting ring, and even investigating suspicious politicians.

The last one was Fox's personal favorite cover story since he had been waiting for the chance to take down sleemos in the Senate for a very long time. It was extremely satisfying to see politicians that always treated Fox and his brothers like osik thrown in prison for their various crimes. It was also rather satisfying to see said politicans cower from Adaris who had zero qualms in flashing her fangs to anyone who dared insult the Guard.

Adaris. Fox couldn't begin to explain how grateful he was to her. Adaris was fighting tooth and nail to save the clones even at risk to herself. It wasn't difficult to imagine the punishment Adaris would face if her plans were discovered. She would be tried and executed for treason if the chancellor didn't take Adaris's punishment into his own hands.

Fox shuddered at the memory of the chancellor's punishments. When his chip was removed, Adaris plugged it into a datapad and found all of Fox's missing memories on the chip. She saw every punishment, every mistreatment, every twisted order that haunted Fox's memory. Fox woke up to every glass object in the medbay shattering at once from the sheer strength of Adaris's anger. It was all Fox and his brothers could do to convince Adaris not to kill the chancellor on the spot.

Speaking of Adaris, Fox needed to find her to inform her about the last battalion.

Fox spent ten minutes searching for his Jedi before he found her in the training room with Thorn and Stone. She'd been spending much of her time training since she saw what was on the Guard's chips. She said it was her way of releasing her emotions into the Force or some Jedi osik. Fox didn't really care as long as Adaris didn't commit high treason before it was time.

Fox looked up from his datapad to tell Adaris the good news and stopped dead in his tracks.

Adaris was wearing her training outfit, a dark gray crop top with matching shorts that showed off the rippling muscles in her back. She was barefoot and seemed to be running through a set of lightsaber katas.

Fox found the scene before him much more attractive than he had any right to find it. That had been happening a lot lately. Ever since discovering the chips, Fox and Adaris became all but inseparable while they worked to save the clones and the Jedi. This led Fox to have a few rather... inappropriate feelings regarding his general. Those feelings didn't much. Feelings just happened sometimes.

That's what Fox told himself anyway.

"Fox!"

He jumped. He was so deep in his head that he didn't notice his general finish her katas. She clipped her lightsabers to her belt and came over to greet him.

"What is it?" Adaris asked curiously.

"I received a report from the last chipped battalion," Fox answered, careful to keep his eyes on the general's face rather than letting his gaze drop. "Commander Cray said all of his troops have been dechipped."

Adaris gave Fox a small smile that made his stomach flop. "Good. It seems this phase is complete. We begin the next phase then."

Fox nodded. The next phase was to gather evidence on the chancellor's less than legal activities so Fox and the Guard had a legitimate reason to arrest the chancellor. This would help expose the chancellor and pave the way for exposing his treatment of the clones and interference with the Jedi.

"What are your plans right now General?" Fox asked.

Adaris thought for a moment before answering. "We have to wait for Senator Amidala and Senator Organa to return so we can begin phase two. I was planning on sparring today, but that can be changed if we need to do anything else today."

Fox shook his head. "You're good to spar all day General. We have nothing on the list for today."

"Why don't you spar with the general, Commander?" Thorn called.

Fox sent Thorn his nastiest glare over Adaris's shoulder. Ever since Fox told Thorn about his thoughts about the general, Thorn had taken to teasing Fox about his thoughts at every possible moment. It was like Thorn thought Fox had a crush on the general. Which he didn't. Absolutely not. Nothing about him said "I have a crush."

Nope nothing at all.

"There's an idea," Adaris said thoughtfully. "What do you think Fox?"

Fox shifted between his feet, hoping the general didn't notice his rising blush. "I'll spar with you if you would like General."

Adaris nodded, seeming pleased although the gray stripes on her lekku turned a darker color. Fox wondered what that meant.

"Then let's get to it, Commander."

*

Fox stripped to his bottom blacks and retreated to the far corner of the sparring ring, ignoring his brothers as they whistled at him. Adaris stood opposite Fox in a low crouch. She flashed her fangs in a smile then charged full speed at Fox.

He barely managed to jump out of the way at the very last minute.

Fox wasn't so lucky the second time.

He hit the ground as Adaris tackled him from the side. Fox struggled briefly to get the upper hand but instead ended up with Adaris straddling his hips while she pinned his arms to the ground.

"I think I win that one, Commander," Adaris said with a smile, the tips of her lekku brushing against Fox's stomach.

He shivered and prayed to whatever god was listening that Adaris didn't notice.

After a moment, Adaris let go of Fox's hands and stood. Fox scrambled gracefully got to his feet and looked around the training room. About twenty of his brothers stood watching the sparring session and all of them were laughing at him. Fox flushed with embarrassment though he would blame it on the exertion of the match if anyone asked. He glared hard at Thorn who was filming the match with a holocam.

Thorn waved and shouted, "Come on, Commander! You can do better. Have another go!"

Fox gave Thorn a rude hand sign and turned back to the general. This time, Fox didn't wait for Adaris to make the first move. He swung out at Adaris's legs, trying to knock her off balance. Adaris jumped backwards to avoid the blow, but Fox didn't give her time to recover. He feinted to the general's left, but she was ready for the attack. She caught Fox's fist in her own and spun him around, sending Fox flying towards the other end of the ring.

He caught himself before he fell. He dodged another charge from Adaris but was sent crashing to the ground from a kick to the chest. Fox used his unfortunate position to yank Adaris to the floor by grabbing her calf. Adaris tumbled to the floor, landing awkwardly on top of Fox. He dove on top of Adaris and pinned her to the ground.

Adaris looked up at him, panting slightly.

"I think win this one, General," Fox said.

She smirked at Fox. "Don't celebrate too soon, Commander."

Adaris wrapped her legs around Fox's and flipped them over. She kneeled above him, forearm against his throat. "Give up yet?"

Fox smirked back. "Never."

He swung out his legs and knocked Adaris off her stance. She fell flat on top of him with a small grunt. Fox flipped Adaris over again and pinned her body completely to the ground with his own. Adaris tried to buck her hips to dislodge Fox, but it didn't work. After a few moments of effort, Adaris relaxed under Fox and smiled at him, flashing her fangs once more.

"You got me, Fox," Adaris said breathlessly. "We'll have to spar more often."

Fox grinned. "We will."

The two of them laid on the ground and stared at each other for a minute before a loud cough interrupted them. Fox and Adaris scrambled to their feet, both of them blushing hard.

Thorn was grinning widely at both of them. Fox sighed. His brother was never going to let him live this down.

"Nice job you two," Thorn said brightly. "I'm sorry to interrupt whatever that was, but we just got word that Senators Amidala and Organa have returned. They would like a word with you both for dinner in about three hours."

Adaris nodded and picked up her sabers from where she'd put them down. "Tell them Fox and I will be there. I'll see you in a few hours, Commander."

With that, Adaris left the training room, hips swaying as she moved. Fox didn't even realize he was staring until Thorn nudged him.

"See something you like Fox?" Thorn asked with a knowing smirk.

Fox shoved Thorn away from him and grabbed his clothes and armor. "Fuck off Thorn."

The laughter of his brothers followed Fox all the way back to his quarters.

*

Fox was laying on his bed while waiting to leave for the dinner with the senators. There was still some time before he and Adaris had to leave for the dinner. Fox decided to check the clone chat while he waited.

That of course later proved to be a mistake.

Commanders + Rex

Chomp: what's up losers

T-Rex: would you quit calling us losers

Chomp: no <3

traumatized: wolffe be nice to rex

Chomp: yes dad

Thorny rose: haha

Thorny rose: who wants to see the video of Fox sparring with his general

Stoned: it's pure gold

traumatized: don't you fucking dare thorn

Colt 45: send it please i'm begging you

Chomp: i need to see this please

Aayla's husband: oh go ahead and send it >:)

traumatized: NO

Thorn: *one video showing the second match between Fox and Adaris. The tension is very obvious*

traumatized: delete that right fucking now

Thorny rose: no <3

Kenobi's bitch: oh my god that is amazing

Monkey: i feel like i'm intruding on a private moment just by watching that

Tire: how do you think we felt being in the same room as them

Pond water: i think it's safe to say fox has a crush

Gee: if that's not a crush then i don't know what it is

traumatized: i do not have a crush especially not on my general

T-Rex: then what the hell did we just watch ori'vod

Stoned: you bitch ass liar fox

Stoned: we all saw you staring the general's behind when she left the training room

traumatized: i hate you all

Chomp changed traumatized's name to commander simp

commander simp: we'll continue this conversation when i get back you di'kuts

commander simp is offline

Kenobi's bitch: lol he's so embarrassed

Aayla's husband: i would be too

Gee: bly you married your general. you lack the ability to feel embarrassment

Aayla's husband: yeah that's true

Colt 45: where did fox have to go

Tire: him and his crush the general are going to have dinner with senator amidala and senator organa to start phase two of the take down palps plan

Gee: oh thank the maker we're getting closer to destroying that piece of banthashit

Pond water: freedom at last

Kenobi's bitch: i expect updates

Thorny rose: of course

T-Rex: do tell us when fox realizes he has a crush on his general

Stoned: request noted

Four hours later...

commander simp: guys i think i kinda maybe possibly have a small crush on my general

Thorny rose: @T-Rex he noticed realized hahaha

[fanficfanattic]

You are NOT overthinking it. Because it truly haunts some of us. I love Keeley. And I love Jamie x Keeley. I love jeeley.

But! I think she has run hot and cold with him. Which isn’t a diss. You are allowed to have complicated feelings about your ex who became kind of a friend who ghosted you before reappearing suddenly to ask advice.

But when he did appear, she was happy to have him back in her life. He said he always thinks of her when he thinks of having talks. And she appreciated that she’d helped him make that change.

Which is why this scene hits a little funny. Because obviously she can’t talk whenever he wants. And player hours are different hours than everyone else’s hours. So a firm boundary is fine to set. It would be good to set.

But she doesn’t do that. She walks him to Sharon and says this is a person who is paid to listen to him talk about his problems. Cause she isn’t paid to do that.

But when you have someone as obviously neurodivergent as Jamie is? That is sending a way different message. He takes things so very literally. And someone who is ostensibly his friend doesn’t say that there is a time or a place.

No, she says that his complaints should only be addressed by someone paid to do so.

And I could be way offbase here. I’m not gonna watch 1.5 seasons to confirm. So please let me know if I’m wrong!

But the next actually meaningful interaction the two have is him saying he loves her and then apologizing for telling her. (“Do you know what you’re sorry for Jamie?”)

The next actually meaningful conversation is his apology about the leak. (“Do you know what you’re sorry for Jamie?”)

And after that? Keeley does as Roy asks and tries to unfuck Jamie’s brain. But she doesn’t ask what’s wrong. And he has learned his lesson about talking to her about his issues. So it goes very off the rails.

The only other times we see him actually addressing issues he has is A) with the coaches about Zava (and they are paid to listen to player concerns); & B) with Roy about Zava (who is, again, a coach so is technically someone paid to talk with Jamie about his playing issues.)

Ted asks what’s wrong when Jamie is visibly freaking out mid-game. And he gets half answers. But it’s still about his game play.

He learns, over and over, that the only thing about him that matters is what he can give to the club. It’s reinforced again and again. Is everyone as haunted as me by “I know you have me best interests at heart. Or the club’s anyway”?

Cause to him they are one and the same. Ted said he had to be a team player so he full on embraced that with his whole being. Which is why he addressed the Zava issue. Which is part of why he took on extra, unpaid training time, to improve his own play.

Not to say he doesn’t have pride and arrogance or a self-involved perspective. But that isn’t all he has. And that comes down to him putting in the work in therapy. So Dr. Sharon isn’t a joke for him. She was a life-raft. A guide. Someone who helped him navigate a time that was hard and confusing. It would be for anyone. But it was especially hard for our little neurodivergent bean.

But, yeah, she was paid to listen to his problems.

remembered how jamie being brought to sharon’s office was treated as a joke / comedic moment. idk. i think we should’ve seen it as a more important scene that wasn’t treated lightly considering how,,,, very evidentially mentally ill and traumatized he is

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Til it Happens to You | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi. This was a request from @barnesw1fe

🚨WARNING: this fic contains talk of SA. There is no graphic detail or imagery, but it discusses SA against the reader. Please Do Not read if that makes you uncomfortable ♥️

Other warnings: anxiety, protective Bucky

And I wish I’d had someone like this when I needed them.

——————————

Bucky haunted the hall outside your room. Technically, it was outside of his room too- so he had plenty of reason to be there. Plenty of reason to casually wander around until you got home. And that’s what he told anyone who walked by. It was simply coincidence that he missed you.

Finally, the elevator dinged. Bucky wasted no time play-acting a cool, casual demeanor. He didn’t have to be anything other than himself- not with you. And with you, he was happy. Always.

But as you stepped off the elevator and nearly knocked into Bucky, you didn’t smile like usual. Well, you smiled, of course, when you saw Bucky. But it didn’t light your eyes the way it usually did.

“Hey, doll! How was your night?” Bucky pulled you into a bear hug like always, but didn’t feel the welcome squeeze of your arms around his waist. Surely, you were just tired. Nachos and beers and fireball shots (that you swore were the best back in your college days) probably kicked your ass.

But not even a life-threatening mission could keep you from wrapping your arms around Bucky.

“Oh, yeah, it was- I had fun”, you gently untangled your body from Bucky’s and kept moving. You needed to keep moving.

Bucky kept pace with you, one of his massive steps taking the place of three of yours. “Tell me all about it! Did everyone show?”

“Mostly. Yeah.” You said- mumbled.

Bucky cocked his head at you, “you okay there, sweets?”

You cleared your throat, “oh, yeah. Just, you know, tired. Long night. That’s all.”

Bucky watched as you reached for the fingerprint scanner outside your door and placed your hand on the touch pad, but it beeped at you. And beeped. And beeped. And beeped. It couldn’t get an accurate reading- you hand shook too much.

“Here, let me…” Bucky took your hand in his and placed it properly, holding it gently it place until the light flashed green. He opened the door, but refused to let go of your hand. “You sure you’re doing okay? Seems like something‘s bothering you…”

Maybe your college best friend flaked without telling you. Maybe your old roommate invited her obnoxious boyfriend. Plenty of things could’ve put you in a less than stellar mood- but Bucky didn’t know what.

“No, really. I’m good. I’m gonna take a quick shower and go to bed. But thanks.” You snuck your hand from Bucky’s grasp, and ghosted your palm against his stubble. There she was- the girl Bucky knew. You stared at him for a moment, allowing him to warm you. But the cold returned all too soon. “I’ll see you in the morning. Night, Barnes”. Your voice was soft, almost timid. And when you shut the door, part of you wished Bucky had stopped you.

And with that, he found himself alone in the hallway once again. Clearly, you wanted to be alone. But solitary didn’t have to mean sad. Bucky made his way downstairs and unearthed the cookies you’d hidden from the rest of the team (of course you shared their hiding place with Bucky). He dropped a few onto a plate and brewed you some tea, preparing it exactly the way you liked it.

He planned to give you the small surprise and leave you alone, but frowned at the sound of your still-running shower. “Um, hey, Friday…” Bucky said into the empty air. He still wasn’t used to the ever-present AI, and felt silly talking to what seemed like nothing. But she was there.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Just- just Bucky…”

“Of course. What can I do for you, Bucky?”

“I’m gonna leave this here…” Bucky placed the plate and mug on the floor outside your door, “could you just tell her it’s out here? When she gets out of the shower, I mean.”

With Friday’s promise to alert you of the snack, Bucky headed to his own room. He hated his room- mostly because it wasn’t yours. It wasn’t where his cold nights turned into warm days or where he’d first shared a bed with you. The sheets didn’t smell like you, and the room lacked the inescapable warmth your presence brought. His room was just that- his. But he wanted it to be yours, too.

And after nearly an hour of sitting alone in his boring, cold, stupid room that wasn’t yours, he wandered again into the hall. And there sat the plate topped with cookies. And the mug full of tea. Bucky knew it had to be cold by now.

You must’ve fallen asleep right after your shower, just like you’d said. And if that were the case, Bucky would’ve gone back to his shitty, sad, lonely room. But he could’ve sworn he heard something- maybe… crying? Bucky knew how often you fell asleep with the tv on when he wasn’t there to turn it off, but these didn’t sound like tv tears.

Bucky let his metal knuckles tap lightly against your door. “Hey, doll? I just wanted to check on you…” He fidgeted from side to side in the silence. “Is everything okay?”

The sniffles ceased. An occasional hiccup, deep breaths, and recitations of “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine…” grew closer as you made your way to the door.

“Hey, Buck. Yeah, I’m fine…” you said with a smile. The fakest smile Bucky had ever seen. It paired poorly with your tear-stained cheeks and red, puffy eyes.

Bucky didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to make you maintain the facade. Maybe this was a cry-by-yourself type of situation, and who was he to invade your space? But he wanted to help.

“Okay…um, if you’re okay, then I guess I’ll- I’ll go back to my room.” He shrugged. “And if you decide that you’re not okay, that’s where I’ll be.”

‘Don’tGoDon’tGoDon’tGo,’ you thought as Bucky turned to leave. ‘Please don’t leave me by myself’. But the words never actually broke free. And so, with a warm “goodnight, doll,” and a squeeze of your hand, Bucky returned to his room.

But the second he shut the door behind him, he second-guessed his choice. You weren’t okay- or fine- or whatever you’d said. Something was wrong. And Bucky kicked himself for ditching you. He always promised to be there for you like you were for him. He swore he’d protect you and make you feel safe, whether from bad guys or bad dreams. He was your go-to, and you were his.

As Bucky flung his door open with plans to rush back to your side, he nearly mowed you down. “Woah- hey, sweetheart! Nearly tackled you,” he laughed a nervous laugh. If you were at his door, it could only mean-

“I’m not okay.”

“Oh, doll, I-”

“Can I come in?”

Bucky ushered you through the door and closed it behind you, creating a safe little world for just the two of you. He watched you run gentle fingers over his book shelf as you looked at the titles. Classic fantasy novel after classic fantasy novel populated each row- followed by all four Twilight books. He knew you loved them- of course, he had to read them.

Knocking on Bucky’s door was hard, but speaking your mind was harder. You kept your eyes on the books and the few trinkets Bucky owned. Steve’s dog tags. A note from Nat. Some art from Wakanda. You loved Bucky’s room, loved spending time in the mismatched, minimally decorated space. It was so comforting, so Bucky. And if you focused on the framed photo of Bucky and Steve from the front lines of World War II, you didn’t have to think about your own internal fight.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Bucky asked, “You don’t have to, but you can. I’ll listen”.

You shrugged.

“I um, I saw the tea and the cookies. Almost stepped on them on my way over here.” You said, your voice shaky, “Thanks, Buck… that was really nice. I’m sorry I didn’t eat the cookies- and that I let the tea get cold. I just didn’t feel like eating- I’m really not hungry. I’m kind of nauseous, actually. And I didn’t-”

“It’s not a big deal, sweets. Don’t worry about it.”

Bucky could practically see the regret dripping from your lips. Here you were, in his room, having admitted that you needed his help. But actually telling the truth was a whole other beast- one you weren’t prepared to fight.

He gestured for you to take a seat on the bed, or maybe in his reading chair. But you declined. You meandered around, instead, looking at Bucky’s few furnishings- the furnishings you’d seen a million times before. But you focused on them as though they were new to you. You inspected each one with a slow intensity that granted you just a bit more time.

Talking about what happened seemed scary, but not talking about it was scary too. And you’d locked the words away before swallowing the key. So even if you wanted to give Bucky the speech you’d rehearsed on your walk down the hall, you-

“Something happened after the bar,” you blurted out. “I don’t know what to do”. A wet strand of hair fell into your face as you shook your head.

“Oh… okay,” Bucky said. ‘After the bar?’ he thought. What could’ve happened after the bar? He knew you got a ride home from a friend, but that was all he could think of. Maybe the two of you stopped somewhere- or maybe there was an argument. But you didn’t say. You simply thumbed through Bucky’s worn copy of The Hobbit, your eyes never leaving the folded pages.

“What happened, doll?”

“I don’t know”, you said, your voice low.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean- I’m not sure. I think I know, but…maybe not.”

“Um, okay,” Bucky gently took the book from your hands, “then do you want to tell me what you think happened?” Your eyes stayed put, focused downward on the empty space between your hands.

“Um, no. Not really…”

Bucky took your hands in his, “That’s fine, you don’t-”

“I think I was assaulted.”

Bucky’s ear started ringing. He looked at you, his best friend, his favorite person, his first priority, and wanted to ask you to repeat yourself- surely he hadn’t heard you right. But didn’t dare ask you to say it again.

He knew what it was like to be violated- to have no control over your own body. And for a while after his Hydra days, he wondered if he were even still human. Part of him thought they’d ripped his soul out and then tried to stuff it back in- but it never quite fit the same.

With your words still hanging in the air, you turned back to the book shelf. Something about it was safe, familiar. You knew how all these tales of fiction ended- no surprises, not unwanted twists.

And looking at Bucky threatened to send you into a breakdown. His mouth hung open slightly and his face lost what little color he had. His hands shook. He didn’t know what to do.

His instinct to hug you sprung up immediately, but he squashed it- certainly, you didn’t want to be touched. And then he remembered the hug in the hallway. The bewilderment on your face, your resistance to his grasp.

“I asked my friend Joey to bring me home,” you said. “And he did. Everything was fine until he told me he had a crush on me in college. We were only ten minutes from the compound- on that dark, kinda spooky road surrounded by nothing but trees. I didn’t know how to respond… and then he got weird. He was saying really strange things. Creepy things. Made me uncomfortable. And then he pulled over and stopped the car.”

Bucky didn’t know how you kept your composure. He felt himself losing it, teetering on the edge of falling apart. But maybe you were in shock. Maybe you were so upset, so horrified that you bypassed the depression and found complete calm. That was scarier than a breakdown.

“He stopped the car,” you repeated. “And said some… stuff. He put a hand on my leg, kind of dragged it up my thigh. I told him no. And I- I remember thinking that we were so close to the compound, that I could just get out and walk the rest of the way… I don’t know why I didn’t.”

You paused.

“I think I was scared.”

“Of course you were,” Bucky said. “It makes sense to-”

“But I shouldn’t have been. I’m a member of the team- I’m an Avenger. And he’s just some guy. I could break him in half if I wanted to. But I just said no over and over, and then-”

You shivered a bit. “I felt trapped”.

Bucky didn’t prompt you to continue. He let you sit in the quiet safety of his room until you felt comfortable enough to elaborate- if you ever felt comfortable enough to elaborate.

“But actually, it’s probably fine”, you said, snapping one of his books shut. “It’s fine, I’m just gonna- I think I’m gonna go to bed. Sorry for the interruption. And the uh-” you made a grand, sweeping gesture, “the dramatics, or whatever. Night, Buck.”

“Doll…” he took a step in your direction- just one. He wouldn’t let himself encroach on your space. “Please, don’t apologize. If you don’t wanna say anything else, you don’t have to. But don’t say it’s fine. It’s not. This shouldn’t have happened to you- no one should ever have to go through that.”

You shrugged. The hem of your tshirt sprouted a loose thread that caught your eye, and you found yourself zeroed in on it. Anything to avoid eye contact.

Rage throttled Bucky’s insides. He wanted to find your supposed friend and rip his head from his body. But as you stood before him with slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, the rage melted into sadness. And disgust.

“How about you just sit- for a second?” he said. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. And you don’t have to stay long. But, maybe you could just give yourself a minute to breathe?”

If this whole ordeal went down only ten minutes from the compound, that meant you’d been manhandled less than two hours prior. Just down the road from your home- you could probably see the compound lights from where he parked. So close to safety.

You finally took a seat in Bukcy’s arm chair, and let your head fall back against the cushion. Sometimes, when Bucky was away on a mission, you sat in this chair. You’d borrow it for an hour or two, reading one of his books and missing him. You always missed him. Bucky took a seat on the ottoman and watched you tug on your loose thread.

“I’m not sure that um… that what happened even counts.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, other people have had worse. So. I’m okay. I’m reading into it.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, you’re not- you’re not reading into it.”

You shrugged, and stood from chair. You needed to move.

And then Bucky said the one thing you’d hoped to hear: “I believe you.”

Those words set you free. He listened as you told him what happened- every last detail. He didn’t know whether to let you see the horror in his face, or to conceal it. Was his obvious upset too much? Or would a blank stare leave you feeling invalidated? He found himself somewhere in the middle- clenched jaw, furrowed brow, vacant eyes.

“So, yeah…” you said as you finished your story, “I don’t think that counts”.

Bucky swallowed hard. “Oh my god, doll, that- that counts. That’s not okay, that’s-” he snapped his mouth shut. Was saying the word too much? Would not saying it convince you that your experience didn’t ‘count’?

But he didn’t have to time to think about it.

Every beast within you escaped all at once. Was it a scream- or maybe a sob? Bucky didn’t know. All he knew is that you were crumbling before him. His instincts kicked in as he watched your knees buckle. Your body tried to collapse under the immense weight of your newest nightmare, but Bucky didn’t want your knees crashing against the hardwood floor. He swept you up and placed you gently back in the chair before forcing his arms to recoil. Surely, there was no way you wanted to be touched in this moment.

And if it were anyone else, he would’ve been right. But something about Bucky was different. Sure, he was strong and had a vibranium arm that could crush you in under a second- but he was never scary. He was never rough with you or careless with how he touched you. He was cautious. Gentle. Soft.

“Can you-” you threw a hand in Bucky’s direction, hooking it around his metal bicep. “-sit with me?”

Bucky let you tug him into the chair, and did his best to squeeze his body next to yours. One hand gently stroked your hair while the other wiped tears from your cheeks.

“I shouldn’t have gotten in the car with him…”

“Sweetheart, no-” Bucky took your face carefully in his large hands. “This isn’t your fault. Okay? You did nothing wrong.”

At Bucky’s words, you curled into his chest. With your face in his Henley, it was almost as if the outside world ceased to exist. And that was perfectly fine with you. But the razor sharp flashbacks of what happened down the road shattered your peace. And you cried. You cried all over his shirt, soaking the fabric with your tears.

“You’re not alone, doll. I’m right here,” Bucky whispered. He stroked your back and played with your hair like he always did when you were upset. But this was a different kind of sadness.

You wanted to cry, to vomit, to force any reminder of your so-called friend out of your body. You could still feel his clammy hands and hot breath, the way his stubble scraped your skin. You shivered.

“And I’ll do whatever you need, no questions asked. You just say the word and-”

“Please, don’t tell-” you rasped. Your head shot up from its safe resting place on Bucky’s chest- and just like that, you invited the world back in. “Don’t say anything. Please. I don’t want- I don’t want the team to know…” With a heavy thud, your head fell against Bucky’s chest. “It’s too embarrassing”.

“I won’t, I promise. It’s not my business to tell.”

A muffled “thanks” vibrated against the fabric of Bucky’s shirt.

“I know it’s easier said than done,” he said after a while, “but you shouldn’t be embarrassed. This isn’t on you- it’s on him.”

Logically, you knew Bucky was right. And you would’ve said the very same to anyone in your shoes. But you couldn’t help but take the shame.

“Um, I think I want-” you sniffled, once again raising your head. “I want to take another shower.” Somehow, the scalding water hadn’t melted the slimy feeling from your skin. You’d sat against the cold tile floor, waiting to feel clean. But you were certain you’d never feel clean again.

“I still feel gross.”

“Okay, doll.”

Alarm shot through you. “But will you sit with me after? If you don’t mind?” Being without Bucky for the rest of the night wasn’t an option.

He gently pulled your fidgeting hands apart. He knew how you often picked and pullled at your cuticles when your anxiety got to you. Knew you’d make yourself bleed. “Yeah, of course. You just let me know when you want me, okay? We can stay in here or go back to your room- it’s all your choice. Just want you to be comfortable.”

“Okay… Thanks, Buck.” You offered him the best smile you could manage. “Is it okay if- can I sit here just a little longer? Do you mind?”

Bucky opened his arms and let you nuzzle into his body. “Of, course, doll- I don’t mind. You can stay here as long as you want.”

At the very top of Bucky’s list of priorities sat your well-being. He’d do anything and everything you needed, no matter the time of day. If you wanted him by your side, he’d be there- and if you needed space, he’d give it to you. But he’d never let you believe that any of this was your fault, that the innocent ride home you’d been promised was sullied by anything other than your so-called friend.

And sitting just under your well-being sat his second priority: ripping your assailant to shreds.

——————————

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All is Fair in~

Vendettas & Verity

Chapter 13: All is Fair in Vendettas & Verity

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Series Summary: Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. Your the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under pressure?

Series Warnings: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter.

Chapter warnings: 18+ Only! violence and threats. Emotional trauma, Bad language words, mentions of death and physical trauma, Stalking.

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Word count: approx. 3.3K

A/N: We get to have a small reprieve in this chapter, but I don't know how long that's gonna last. ;) I really hope y'all enjoy it! feedback is always welcome, let me know your favorite part.

Peter watched Bucky and Steve the whole way back to the penthouse, he could feel the anger rolling off Steve in waves. Steve had been upset earlier, after Peter confessed to allowing Erskine to experiment on him, but this was a new wave of rage. Tony had done or said something at that meeting to set him off again.

When his voice cut through the silence, Peter nearly jumped out of his suit, “Tony didn’t hire her.”

Bucky screwed up his brows, “Bullshit, who else would have hired her?”

Steve shook his head as he stared out the window, Peter scowled across from them as he processed the new information, 

“Don’t know. He had no idea she had been an Ace.” Steve countered.

“You don’t think we made a mistake in killing her do you? Are we even sure she was sent to kill you?” Peter’s voice was quiet, but unwavering, there was a hardness in Bucky’s eyes as they glanced at each other that chilled Peter to his core. He wouldn’t lie, the thought had crossed his mind, what a mess that would be if they had killed her, only for it to be meaningless.

“Don’t blame yourself, she admitted it.” The pain in Steve's voice made Peter’s gut churn.

“Admitted it? How so?” Peter knew he was pressing, but Steve hadn’t even mentioned anything you had revealed when he went into the basement.

“‘You were just a job’ her words exactly, kid. Nothing that happened between all of us meant anything, so stop badgering yourself. She isn’t worth it.” Steve continued to stare out the window, his head resting on his fist.

Peter’s eyes narrowed at Steve’s choice of words, isn’t, not wasn’t… maybe he was reading too much into things, or maybe he was too naïve, holding onto a hope that was pointless. But he had seen the emotion in your eyes when you went after Steve, there was more to the story than anyone was willing to admit. If Steve had been just a job, as a trained assassin, she would have killed him easily… Why did she wait?

Both Bucky and Steve were quiet the rest of the way, a far away look in Bucky’s eyes, deep in thought. Peter knew you had hurt him, really hurt him, you had broken that icy exterior and forced yourself in, became his friend, that wasn’t an easy feat. But he also saw the haunted look in Buck’s eyes. 

Bucky could lie to everyone else, but Peter knew he may be pissed and hurt, and yeah he took a lot of that out on Ace, physically. But he didn’t enjoy it, not really. Peter knows that’s what Bucky tells himself at his low moments. The look Peter saw in Bucky’s eyes all those years ago wasn’t the same look the night you died… no instead of the determined bloodthirsty look from all those years ago, it was pain, and betrayal, it cut him deeply.

Peter was fairly sure he was the first to forgive you, aside from Wanda, she always plays devil's advocate, she tried so hard to see it from your point of view. Steve wouldn’t hear it anymore, it’s why he hasn’t been back to the mansion since it happened. Then he was sure Scott had forgiven you, and Sam, the rest of the commandos didn’t really know you, so they didn’t need to. 

He didn’t want to hear Scott, Wanda, or Sam reprimand him, or question his choices. Peter tried to understand, but it didn’t stop the way his heart ached and cracked when he thought about you; his big sister, the sister who chose him. He missed you, you were the big sister he never had, you were family. He may have forgiven you, but he still held it against the others, he wasn’t ready to let your memory go just yet. Steve and Bucky, held onto it, onto any hatred Peter or the others had towards them, anyone could see they carried the guilt upon their shoulders, the weight of your betrayal and what could have been pulling them down.

They didn’t even have a funeral for you, he understood why, but it still pained him to know your body was laying out in the middle of the woods. The rest of the city thought you were traveling, the world gathering pieces for the new museum your brother supposedly began construction on. 

When they returned to the penthouse, Steve and Peter headed for the doors, but Bucky split off, grumbling about some unfinished business and that he would see them later tonight, if not tomorrow. He was doing a lot of that lately, disappearing and avoiding Steve. Peter shrugged, everyone handles loss differently, it was best to leave Bucky to his devices.

—

The curtains are drawn, little spears of light seep through, stretching across the mahogany floors just like every morning, another dream of dying each time it's a different way, but it all ends the same; Steve standing over you while your last breath leaves you.

You can’t say you blame him for everything he’s done, if you were in his shoes you’d have done a lot worse; you have, and for a lot less. 

Groaning you meander out of bed, going straight to your bathroom, the cold wood floors against your feet send a shiver up your spine as you flicked on the light, turned the shower on and peeled your clothes off. You stepped into the warm water, letting it stream down your aching body littered in so many bruises, you had tried to count when you were first able to walk on your own again, but quickly lost count.

Your doctor, Stephen, ‘with a ph.’ he had told you when he first looked at your wounds. You huffed a laugh, telling him there were too many Steven’s with or without phs in your life. To which he responded by telling you he also had a PHD, you had rolled your eyes, ripping the bottle of vodka from your brother’s hand, taking a long drink. The familiar burn in your throat, a comfort compared to the piercing pain you felt every time the doctor stitched a new wound. They had offered you an anesthetic, but you refused, you wanted to feel it, needed to feel it. Tony didn’t like it, he knew you were punishing yourself, but he didn’t fully understand why; he was partly right. 

In the past, all the Aces always patched each other up after an assignment, we didn’t have anesthetics at The House, we felt the pain of each wound and buried it in just enough liquor to dull the pain.

You stepped out of the shower, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your nose had been crooked before from the endless breaks, but damn, this looked so much worse. Most of the cuts were healed, only some bruises and scars remained, just add to the damn collection. Rolling your eyes you stalked into the closet, putting on some loose fitting joggers and a long sleeve tee, early winter had begun to blow in, and everything was fucking cold. You slipped back into the bathroom to continue your routine, as you finish brushing your teeth, you meet your own gaze in the mirror; stupid fucking bitch. —

You woke up in the passenger seat of Steve’s car.

Alone.

Panic surged through you, jolting upward, every muscle fiber screaming. Turning your head, you looked out the window, a thick fog hung in the air, the icy chill of the late autumn air seeped into the car. The car was parked on the side of the road, the trunk popped open, but you couldn’t see or hear Steve, you weren’t sure where you were. 

Your head was fuzzy, the last thing you remember was the barrel of Steve’s gun under your chin, the gun going off, a sharp pain in your neck, then it all went black. Sitting farther up in the seat, you scanned your surroundings. The road was empty, save for Steve’s car, the woods that surrounded both sides of the road seemed quiet, empty… There, in the rearview mirror, a figure emerged from the misty woods, his white shirt covered in blood, your blood.

Fuck. 

You needed to leave, you weren't sure why you weren’t dead yet, but you weren’t going to stick around and find out. Reaching for the door, you stopped, taking a deep, calming breath, if he wanted you dead, you would be… —

You sighed, resting your head against the cold glass, letting your eyes droop closed for a moment. You were tired, no matter how much rest you got, it never seemed to be enough. When your stomach growled, you removed your forehead from the mirror, not daring another glance at yourself, you left your room. 

You could hear Tony, Pepper and their waitstaff bustling through the house, the smell of cinnamon rolls filled your senses, a smile lifted your lips. You followed the smell into the dinning room, where Tony, Pepper, and a couple of men you didn’t recognize were sitting, their conversation cutting off as you entered the room. Stopping you lifted your brow, “Keeping secrets are we?”

Immediately Tony shook his head, “Just business.”

You hummed, stalking into the kitchen grabbing a cinnamon roll from the stove, giving the family cook, Sammy, a sweet smile and a wink as you slipped back into the dining room, plopping down in a chair away from everyone else. Three men sat across from Tony, the one in the middle stood, offering you his hand, 

“Colonel Akerly ma’am.” 

Your gaze flicked from his outstretched hand to his young face, adorned with an 80’s porn stache. You accepted his hand, “I’m his–” you nodded to Tony, “sister.”

He smiled softly, sitting back in his seat, the oldest of the three turned in his seat, “Aren’t you the curator of that museum that burned to the ground a month or two ago?”

You swallowed, it was still a touchy subject, “Was. I was the curator, you can’t be the curator of something that doesn't exist anymore.”

Tony gave you a pointed look, “Gentleman, this is my sister, the better of the two of us at business, whereas I'm more of the technical guy.”

You rolled your eyes, “Modesty doesn't look good on you Tony.” you looked to the other men, “He’s a genius and not a modest man, don't let him lie to you.” you threw them a wink, before digging into your food.

They continued on with their conversation, ignoring your existence, occasionally, Akerly threw you a curious glance, his eyes landing on the bruises, new and old scars adorning your face. He paused once, his eyes landing on the faded bruise around your neck; the palm and five fingers you knew others could make out. That was the last time he looked in your direction, the others couldn't care less, but their conversation piqued your interest when it veered toward chemical treatments for physical enhancements. You kept quiet until the men left, following Tony as he led them out of the mansion.

“What the fuck was that about?!” you wanted to keep your cool, but your mind was reeling, you had to have misunderstood their conversation.

He stared at you, “That was a business meeting, like I told you it was.”

“No shit. What about?”

He huffed, “You were sitting in the room squirt, you know what it was about.”

“Yeah, the same fucking thing Steve killed dad over. And now you are working with that bastard!”

He stepped back, raising his hands, “Whoa, whoa, whoa… easy, take it easy kid.”

“No! He killed our father so he could continue those dastardly experiments!”

Tony’s eyes widened, then relaxed, “Squirt… I never said dad was against the experiments…”

The realization hit you like a freight train, Steve’s confused expression flashing across your mind, it made sense now, he had no idea they were happening… “You are continuing the experiments?!”

He shrugged, “Well, yeah. That research could save millions of lives–”

“You are experimenting on children!”

“Take it easy, kid, I didn’t know he was using minors. I only found out right before that damn Ace of Spades killed him. They trashed his computer and lab, but he had backups sent to me in case of emergencies. I was going to put a stop to the minors, but he died before I could, okay?”

That made you feel a little better, you had killed him because it was the mission, but the research was destroyed because you were pissed. “Tony, you know that treatment is volatile, you put that shit in someone’s body, it’ll tear them apart.”

“Yet Barnes and Rogers handled it just fine…” he had schooled his expression, but you could still read him, that jab was meant to sting a little.

You stopped, taking a deep breath, “They chose that.”

He sighed, “I know. Trust me I will perfect it before it goes anywhere near another human body…” his eyes scanned your body, “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged, “Better.”

He nodded, “Per the agreement, you aren’t to leave the mansion or the grounds. Rogers was clear on the terms for letting you live…”

“You can’t be serious, this is a fucking cage, I’m not a dog you can tell to sit, stay or do a goddamn trick.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Don't be a brat, you are in a mansion. It’s just until we can figure something else out.”

“A gilded cage is still a cage, Stank.”

The use of his nickname had him relaxing just a smidge, “Yeah, I know. I’ll get you outta here as soon as I can, send you anywhere in the world you wanna go. Just behave for now, please.”

You nodded, “I hate to ask, but do you have an extra phone? There are a few calls I need to make.”

He nodded, turning around to leave, “Yeah there should be a new one on your bed upstairs. Remember, you are traveling Europe if anyone asks!” he hollered as the door shut behind him. You rolled your eyes, turning around, almost running smack into Pepper, who was very pregnant, and typing on her phone. It looked like she had swallowed a watermelon.

“Oops, sorry hun…” she apologized absentmindedly, continuing on her way into the lounge.

Shrugging you made your way back upstairs, sure enough a brand new phone sat on your bed, the contact list was empty, but you remembered the important numbers, making the first call.

It rang for what felt like hours before he picked up, he took a deep breath,

“Identity check- All is fair ”

You smiled wickedly, “Response - In death and resurrections.”

A soft laugh left his lips, “It’s good to hear from ya Death.”

“Likewise sir, mission?”

“None for now, rest. I’ll be in touch.”

The line ended. You cracked your neck and dialed again, 

“This is Wilson Enterprises, you nab ‘em I’ll stab ‘em”

You stifled a laugh, “That’s a new one.”

The line went quiet, “Смерть? (smert-death)”

“The one and only.”

“I… we thought you were…”

“Nah, just extremely pissed off…and supposedly I’m traveling the world…” you huffed a laugh, “a girl can dream right?”

The line went quiet again, several moments passed before he spoke again, “It's good to hear from you again.”

His voice squeezed your heart, they were probably worried sick, they may be bastard assassins, but they were family, and they had no idea what had happened, let alone that you were alive. “You too Wade. Listen I left you with a phone–”

“Yeah! Hey good news, I broke into it. If you would like we can meet up and I can fill you in?”

“Just tell me when and where.”

“I’ll text you the info. See you there.”

—

When the call ended, Wade immediately dialed his phone again,

“What the fuck do you want Wilson?! This is the third time you have bothered me—”

Grumpy old fuck, why he was never happy to hear from Wade, he would never understand, he usually only called with good news… most of the time, “Death is alive.”

On the other end, he could hear Jake choke on what he assumed was his twentieth cup of coffee,  

“Ex-fucking-scuse you?!”

Wade always loved surprising the grumpy bastard, it was his favorite pastime actually, and for once, Wade knew more than he did, and he was definitely going to rub that shit in. “What she didn't call you? Huh, that's odd, I figured she would have called you first, being that you are her best–”

“Shut up Wade, are you sure?”

Wade smiled, as much as he liked to tease Jake, he understood how crazy it sounded, he hadn’t actually believed it when he first heard your voice either. “Yeah, I’m supposed to meet up with her in a few days, give her the intel from the phone…”

A long moment of silence passed, Wade wondered if he was crying and had muted his phone, wouldn’t blame him if he had. “If you want, you can join me, I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.” But when Jake responded, he sounded like his normal grouchy self, 

“Send me the address, I’ll be there.”

Wade typed the address, sending the text.

“Thanks Wade.”

“Anytime big guy.”

—

You didn’t have much to gather around the mansion, all of your belongings were at home. Nonetheless, you picked up the items you did have, a few pairs of clothes, a baseball cap, some trinkets, and keys to your old bike.

Walking down the stairs and through the foyer, you noticed Pepper sitting at the piano, a melancholy tune swirling from her fingertips. Quietly you reached the front door— the playing faded away, and her voice broke the new silence, 

“Notice anything?”

Your head snapped to her, she was still facing away from you, her long strawberry blonde hair tumbling down her back. “No security.”

She nodded, still not looking at you, “I didn’t see you leave.”

“No.”

Your name leaves her lips in a whisper, “sometimes a cage is a way to keep you safe from others, and sometimes it is to keep others safe from you.” A beat of silence stilled the air, “You get to choose its purpose.”

Without another word, she began to play again, never once looking in your direction. 

As you open the front door you are greeted with a gust of icy winter air, the sun was shining brightly, but the air was bitter and held no warmth for you. Walking towards the garage, you opened the keypad and typed your code, moments later the door opened, a few cars dotted the garage, and one older motorcycle; the fist bike you had ever bought yourself, your Kawasaki Ninja 300. She was as beautiful as the day you had bought her, candy apple red paint and black stripe detailing. 

You smiled as you ran your fingers over the seat and handles. Picking up your helmet, you swung your leg over, bringing her to life, exiting the garage, and into the cold air again.

As you neared the gate it creaked open.

The wind whipped around you, the icy bite cutting though your clothes and jacket, you had forgotten what it felt like, what freedom felt like.

Celebrations could wait, there was work to do, you could rest when you were dead. 

—

He bided his time, waited for you, he hadn’t believed it at first, he thought he was seeing things when he watched Steve drop you off at your brother’s mansion. But then he saw you leave, speeding through the night on that old Kawasaki. 

Alive.

He growled, Fuck, if you want something done right you gotta do it yourself.

@dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @captainson-of-coul @betareader7 @vicmc624 @bigphattygyal

[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.” 

[yetanothergreyjedi]

What We Might've Been: Part 2

Part 1 Part 1.5

Part 3

Inspired by @liminalhollow 's Spork AU

For @dargeon-lissa @dp-marvel94 @aethtalon

...

“I- Uh- I’m not you- I-“ Danny racked his brain for an explanation that wouldn’t immediately get him killed. He'd entered the ghost's haunt. How had his room become a ghosts haunt?! But the thing didn't attack, didn't possess him, or use some mind altering power. It only tipped its head and watched him flounder for words. It seemed to notice it’s disguise slipping. The light in its eyes faded, leaving behind a dead grey-blue.

It sighed, "Did Vlad do this?"

"W-what?"

"Vlad Masters. Did he do this?"

"Why would Dad's creepy friend send me to the future?" He still didn't think it was the future, ghosts could have some crazy powers but that? No.

"Because he's a fruitloop." It answered immediately, and accurately, the guy from Wisconsin wouldn't leave his mom alone. But why, how, could he have anything to do with this?! The thing stopped, its eyes flashed green again for a moment as it said, "Wait- Future?!"

Danny nodded, he'd barely been sure what was happening but he was certain that's was what the ghost had said. Surely one ghost's explanation would be more accepted than the other?

“Where’s your medallion then?”

“My what?”

“Clockwork’s medallion. I know how time travel works."

Danny opened his mouth, then closed it. Ignoring the utterly bizarre statement. This was a trap, a trick. The ghost masquerading as him either wanted the object for itself or it wanted to remove his only protection against the other one, the one that had frozen him in place without seeming to expend a drop of energy. No, no, it couldn't have it. But there weren't many other options. He should've known better than to bring up the time question! He needed to get out of here!

He threw the first thing he could reach, hoping to catch it off guard and ran towards it— Through it, even better. He sprinted down the stairs. There was a flash of bight light behind him, he dodged low, almost throwing himself down the stairs before he realized nothing had been fired.

"Whoa, hang on!" Its voice echoed in a way it hadn't before. He kept running, not wasting a moment to glance at it, and ran directly into someone.

"Whoa! Hey, Dann-o! You came outa—"

"Ghost! In my room!" His dad didn't miss a beat, the gun was up by the time he finished the word 'ghost' and he was firing by time the sentence was over.

The specter dodged the first blast, made a shield for the second and paused to speak, "So not cool, man!"

His mom heard the commotion and joined the fray, while Danny sprinted to the basement. He needed a weapon, that thing had been mimicking him. He barreled into the lab, to the weapons case. Opened it and—

Crash.

He barely jumped back in time to avoid getting crushed.

What?!

Who filled the case with all this junk?!? The case was the second most important piece of the lab (the portal took first), not even Dad wouldn't do this?!

"Danny?" Sam looked at him from the other end of the room, slightly baffled. Tucker was also staring. "Did you bring it?"

"Bring wha—"

"Dude, what's with the jumpsuit?" Tucker cut him off, "Is it really that dangerous? I thought you said you blasted it?"

"What? We talked about the jumpsuit!"

"Did we?" Tucker looked to Sam.

"No." She affirmed.

"Could you explain it again, then?"

"Its cause of all the ghosts..." Danny said slowly, they should know this, he'd been wearing them since the first ghost attacks... Suspicion crossed both his friend's features.

There was a long pause, the pair shared a look and Sam demanded, "Secret word."

"Uh, what?"

"What's the secret word." Tucker clarified, as if that clarified anything.

"What are you guys- Hey! Whoa!" Three ectoguns were now pointed at him, Sam with twin wrist blasters and Tucker with a laser-y thing that had come out of his PDA (When did he do that? It was a very good idea).

"Who are you?" Said Sam.

"Is Vlad cloning again?" Asked Tucker.

"What? No! I mean I don't know! I'm not impersonating me, the ghost upstairs is impersonating me!"

"Nice try. Now answer."

"Uh... Sam?" Tucker was focused on the PDA screen. She glanced at him, quickly, before focusing back on Danny. She'd used these before, not like Sam... His Sam, who avoided any involvement with ghost hunting, who refused to accept that they were just monsters. "His scans are weird..."

"What kind of weird?"

"He's a level 2.5." Tucker switched to a whisper.

"What?" Sam followed suit, "That's too low for a shapeshifter."

"Uh... that's normal..." Danny lied, well kind of. He normally was a level 1.3 but he'd also just been in a ghost's lair (two lairs if you counted not-future-him's bedroom) and had a ghostly artifact in his pocket. Those things were likely to temporarily raise an ectosignature's power rating. He was 76% sure.

Another pause, Sam tried to gesture something while still aiming, there were some whispers he didn't catch. Then Tucker asked, "Did Vlad... raise you?"

"No!? Why does everyone keep talking about Vlad?! The Fruitloop lives in Wisconsin, I've seen him maybe twice!" The pair shared another look. He had no idea how to read those expressions.

He sighed, "You guys won't believe me."

"Try us."

"Yesterday I was at the—"

"Guys! We have a problem!" His hair stood on end as the ghost dropped through the ceiling. Danny shuttered. It was so much worse now that he got a look at it, it was wearing a Fenton hazmat suit, his suit, no, a mockery of it. The colors were inverted and the FentonWorks logo was replaced with some other symbol. That wasn’t the only thing inverted, twisted, he was staring at his own face only not. It’s tintless white hair stuck up just like his, and it’s eyes burned deadly ectoplasm green. Danny still didn’t have a weapon. “Oh, you found him! We have slightly less of a problem.”

“He’s saying Vlad has nothing to do with this... I’m not sure if I believe him.” Sam lowered her blasters, because he was somehow more of a threat than the monster crackling with unused power.

“Yeah, no... he said something about time travel—“ both of his friends groaned, “Then! He sicced my parents on me,” It turned his attention to him, “which is rude by the way! Honestly, I was getting close to being able to ask about a truce, but now they’re gonna be chasing me around for ‘attacking their son!”

“Oof,” Tucker added, as Sam asked about something the ghost could do to get his parents back on his side. Danny stopped listening and scanned for something useful in the pile of discarded machinery. Weapon, weapon, weapon... this wasn’t promising. There were blenders and half disassembled watches and a few things that looked like they’d been pulled out of a trash fire. The thing that looked the least like junk was probably a scanner, but his parents had started putting tasers in those, so it was something.

“Hey,” too late. the ghost was in front of him, he dove for it. Grabbed it. Rolled with the momentum and brought the scanner up as he got to a kneeling position. The thing came to life with a whirring sound.

The ghost laughed, the sound lasted longer than it’s mouth had been open, “That’s the ghost Gabber.”

“That’s the Ghost Gabber. I am a ghost, fear me!”

“Look, I don’t know what’s up with you, but really it’s better for everyone if you go back to whatever time you’re from.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s up with you, but really it’s better for everyone if you go back to whatever time you’re from. Fear me.”

“Could you please turn that off.”

“Could you plea—“ The sound died as Danny flipped the switch and tossed it back on the pile. Why did his parents even make that?

“Why should I trust you, Ghost?!”

[expectingtofly]

Painted Nails and Pride

1.7k

internalized homophobia, john being an a**hole, bisexual dean, found family, happy ending

written for day 7 of @spnprideweek

Music boomed from the park down the street and Dean tried to focus on the newspapers spread out before him, front pages covered with news about a bear attack at a campsite a few miles west. Not actually a bear attack, of course. From the tracks they’d seen when they hiked out there yesterday, Dad's money was on wendigo.

Cheering drew his eyes from the table where he, Sam, and Dad sat outside a restaurant to the people heading down the sidewalk towards the music. Banners on streetlights along the road proclaimed that today marked Roseville's 3rd Annual Pride Parade. His eyes snagged on a group of kids his own age standing on the street corner, hugging and talking excitedly. One boy had painted nails and wore a cropped shirt that exposed his midriff. As he talked with his friends, he looked around, and his eyes met Dean’s. He smiled at him, and Dean ducked his head, face burning.

An announcer’s voice echoed down the street. “Welcome to Pride,” the voice boomed. Dean folded and unfolded the corner of the newspaper, listening to the cheering, rotating the ring on his thumb around and around.

Dad snorted, and Dean glanced up at him. Arms crossed, leaning back in his chair, he watched the proceedings with a scowl on his face. Dean studied the newspapers more intently, underlining words just to look like he was doing something productive. Part of him wanted to go down to the parade, just to see what it was all about, but that was ridiculous. Only affirmed by a derogatory comment Dad made low under his breath about the people in the street.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed verbally, jostling his leg under the table. He glanced sideways at Sam, who was giving Dad a glare. Dean gave him a look that meant, don’t start, but Sam ignored him.

“Don’t say that,” he said, and Dean froze, eyes snapping to their father. Dad pulled his eyes from the street to Sam, giving him a long, steady look.

“What?” he asked after a long moment. “You one of them?”

Sam only held his gaze for a second before it seemed his courage failed. He ducked his head. “No,” he mumbled, kicking at the table leg.

Dad stared at him for another long moment, expressionless, before turning his journal around and dropping it in front of Sam. “Shut up and make yourself useful. Sooner we figure out what’s killing these folks, sooner we can get out of this goddamn town.”

He waved down the waitress for another drink, and Dean glared at Sam, who was absently thumbed through the journal pages. Returning to his own work, he snapped one newspaper closed and opened another, skimmed an article about the victim’s family. The words didn’t really make sense in his head, though, and too soon he found himself watching the people in the street again. The boy who’d smiled at him had disappeared, though, probably watching the parade.

Finding a one-off line in an article about rumors of a strange being haunting the woods, he circled it and handed the newspaper across the table.

“Nice work,” Dad said, taking the paper, but instead of the usual warmth from his praise, Dean only felt sick.

He felt about the same now, standing in Jody’s kitchen—off to the side so he wouldn’t be in the way during the frenzied preparations to attend the Sioux Falls Pride Parade. Music played from Patience’s phone, some song he recognized from Cas constantly turning the radio dial to the pop music station. Sam helped Kaia finish a sign decorated with the lesbian flag, and Eileen signed with Alex who was learning sign language in high school. Claire sat at the table painting Jack’s nails, who wriggled in his seat excitedly.

Catching Dean’s eyes, he held up the hand Claire had finished. “Dean, look!”

Dean forced a smile. “Looks good.”

“Stay still,” Claire ordered, frowning down at Jack’s hand as she painted his pinky.

This was a bad idea, Dean thought. Jody had invited them for the week, mentioning off-hand that Sioux Fall’s pride events were going on, and Dean had pushed aside the mild panic at that comment, told her they’d come visit. He didn’t know he’d be roped into joining everyone at Pride, but here he was, feeling out of place in the corner of the kitchen. Who knew how he’d feel standing at the parade.

“Want me to do yours?” Claire asked, and Dean snapped his attention back to her. She was holding a bottle of nail polish, others lined up next to her on the table, and he froze, realizing what she was suggesting.

His first instinct was to spit out, “I’m not one of those,” but guilt rushed through him for how harsh the words sounded in his head. Defensive words, unnecessary ones because there was no threat here. He didn't mean them anyway.

Swallowing them down, he glanced around the kitchen for rescue. Cas was helping Donna pack water bottles because “It’s gonna be hot out there,” but he must’ve felt Dean’s gaze because he looked over and gave him a reassuring smile. No judgement in his eyes, or Claire's either, for that matter. He had a feeling he wouldn't find any judgement in this kitchen, which should've been a relief, but he had a hard time trusting it.

“Come on, Dean,” Jack said. “We can match!”

You can do this, Dean told himself. It's just Pride, not an Apocalypse.

He tried to smile. “Sure,” he said, going to the table and sitting down, chest tight.

He chose the color blue because it felt less ostentatious than the pinks and lilacs Claire presented to him. Even so, the color looked strikingly bright in the sunlight as he stood along the street marked off for the parade, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Hey,” Cas said, touching his shoulder. Dean tensed, then felt awful for his reaction, but Cas didn’t move away, only rubbed between his shoulder blades until Dean relaxed marginally. “You okay?”

Dean nodded. “Fine,” he managed. Cas gave him a small smile and leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder.

A float passed with people waving and dancing on top, a banner strung across the front declaring, “Protect Trans Kids.” Jack waved a rainbow flag around, cheering along with the crowd. Claire’s arm was wrapped around Kaia’s shoulders, a smile tugging at her mouth despite her attempts to look unbothered by the proceedings. Dean wished he could feel that nonchalant. Instead, he kept looking over his shoulder. He didn’t know exactly what threat he was looking for, but the press of the growing crowds and the heat and noise, the bright colors and waving flags everywhere he looked was making him nauseous.

Turning back to the parade, he met Sam’s eyes. “Never thought we’d both end up here, right?” Sam asked over the noise, attempting levity, and Dean wondered if he remembered sitting outside near a Pride parade, feeling so unsure. There were plenty of other instances to remember, plenty of times John made disparaging comments that Dean either pretended to not hear or agreed with out of a panic that if he wasn’t careful, they might be directed at him next.

“This is fun,” Sam commented, watching the parade, and Dean wished he could agree.

Easy for you to say, he thought. You have a girlfriend, people’ll assume you’re straight. But he felt bad for thinking it. He didn’t want Cas to move away from him—if anything, wanted him closer, wanted his arm around him. But he felt too tense to move.

A crowd of middle-aged people walked in the parade, t-shirts reading variations of MOM HUGS, DAD HUGS, GRANDPA HUGS. Dean watched as people stepped off the sidewalk and hugged the moms and dads, some crying as soon as arms wrapped around them.

Without his permission, he felt his own eyes growing teary and he ducked his head, scraped his heel on the sidewalk.

“Dammit,” Jody said. “Where can I get one of those t-shirts?”

“We gotta do that next year,” Donna decided, and Jack gave her a hug.

“You can hand out hugs without the t-shirt,” he told her, and she grinned.

“You’re right.” Lifting her arms, she announced, “Free hugs over here!” People around them laughed, and someone took her up on the offer, telling her, “You’ve got a lovely family.”

Donna beamed. “Why yes I do.” She pulled Claire into a half-hug that Claire resisted, protesting the whole time. “Come here, Sam,” she said, yanking Sam into a hug that he had to nearly fold himself in half for. Everyone else got their turn, then she turned to Dean, holding out her arms.

Dean stepped into it, wrapping his arms around her. A gentler hug, Donna rubbing his back. Dean sunk into the embrace, the chaos around him subsiding for a moment.

“We’re family now, right?” she asked, pulling away to meet his eyes, and Dean nodded. Smiling at him and patting his arm, she turned back to Jody, wrapping an arm around her.

It felt a little easier to breathe now, his chest not so tight. The crowds around them didn’t seem so threatening, just smiling people with their families like he was with his. Eileen cheered as a float passed with an Irish LGBTQ+ coalition, and Dean smiled, easier now, not forced.

Jody pulled Donna in for a kiss that turned into making out. Claire rolled her eyes. “Ew, guys, Gross.” Kaia elbowed her and Claire’s put-on air of displeasure broke into a grin as she elbowed her back. Cas nudged Dean with a small smile when a float of pink, purple, and blue streamers drove past. For a moment, Dean's chest seized, John's voice ringing in his head, but in all the noise around them, it quickly drowned out.

Pulling his hands from his pockets, he took Cas’ hand. Cas interlaced their fingers immediately, squeezing tightly, then lifted their hands and studied Dean’s nails. Dean had let Jack paint a smiley face on his pinky to match the one on Jack’s thumbs. Staring at them, he thought of a boy at Pride with painted nails, his own fears and wants tightening his chest, but then Cas looked up at him with a smile, and the memory faded into a warm glow.

“I like them,” Cas told him.

“Yeah," Dean said. "Me too.”

[writersblog20]

I can't help being scared!

Sebastian Stan x reader

Guest appearance: marvel cast

Warnings: some curse words. Little bit of angst if you squint but barely noticeable.

Summary: The reader is on the Graham Norton Show with Sebastian, Tom Hiddleston, Chris Evans, RDJ, Anthony Mackie and Benedict Cumberbatch. Graham shows a clip of the reader with her classmates for a project at a haunted house. That gives the rest of the cast a brilliant idea! But unfortunately their great plan didn’t turn out great for you… or did it?

Words: 3169

I can’t help being scared!

You were backstage with Sebastian, Tom, Chris, RDJ, Anthony and Benedict. You were quit nervous to say the least. This was your first time on a talk show host. But you weren’t nervous for the actual show but because Graham always knew how to find embarrassing videos and/or pictures. And there were enough of them! Sebastian stood next to you. His arm around you. “you’re great, they’re gonna love you” he told you. You just smiled. “Sebastian is right darling, no need to worry! We’re here with you.” Tom said sweetly. You blushed a little. “thank you guys” you told them.

Since you were the newbie you thought they would give you a little bit of a hard time but that was everything but the truth! They took you in as a part of the family. The fans already loved you! And you really grew closer to Sebastian. This was your first big role and you loved Marvel way before you got the part. And you also had a huge crush on Sebastian before that. You might have hoped that he was a jackass so it would be easier to be around him than crush on him hard. But also that was everything but the truth. He was so nice. Nicer than you thought he was, which is very hard to achieve, but yet there he was. He might’ve been the nicest person you’ve ever encountered. But the whole cast was extremely nice and kind! It just didn’t help with your crush on Sebastian to say the least….. you were full head over heels for the blue eyed man.

Graham called you one by one on the stage, leaving you and Sebastian alone for a second. “Really sweetheart, they’re gonna love you!” he told you “Thank you Seba” you told him with a slight blush. “also you look incredible!” he told you while scanning you which made you blush even harder. Graham called Sebastian to the stage and he gave you a quick kiss on the side of your head and squeezed your hand before going up.

You paced a little around when your name came up. “and a huge applause for Y/N Y/L/N!” the crowd grew wild. You walked up and waved to the people and gave Graham a hug while the whole cast smiled at you. You plopped down the couch next to Sebastian and Chris. You took a sip of your alcoholic drank.

The show was going great until the last moment. “So Y/N, do you get scared easily?” he looked at him in confusion. “ehm I don’t really know actually although the question scares me” you told him laughing not knowing what he was going with this. The crowd was laughing with you. “I’m asking because we have found a video of you, and I believe are some classmates? At a haunted house for a project…. “ he said waiting for the ball to drop in your head. “oh god” you said immediately feeling embarrassment filing up your body.

“yeah I remember….” You said chuckling. The whole cast looked at you in confusion. “well we don’t know!” RDJ said. “well luckily we have the footage” Graham said. You groaned putting your hands in your face. “maybe you can gives a little background story on this” Graham asked chuckling while holding his cards in front of his mouth. You chuckled a little as well “okay so ehm… we had a project to make a video and we were left doing what we wanted but it had some criteria we had to get of course. But ehm the group decided to go to a haunted house and well I didn’t really like it” you said “lets watch the footage” Graham said and the crew scooted over to get a good look at the monitor it was playing the video on.

~footage~

“so here we are! At a haunted house for a challenge!” one of your classmates Joey said. You were in a group of 5 people. They all stood next to each other. Tyron didn’t like it as well. All the others were excited except the two of you. You on the other hand wasn’t in the shot. They all introduced themselves “and Y/N is over there!” they panned the camera to you, who was standing against the wall. You gave them a small wave. They started laughing. “what are you doing over there?” they asked you teasingly. “yeah I don’t trust anyone behind me right now. and now I can see them coming” you said.

After 1 minute of introduction a scare actor came up to you on roller skates and knee pads. He took a good run up you and went on his knees rolling further towards you. You noticed him and immediately jumped over the guy running towards the group who were now laughing their asses off. “yeah very funny can we just get this over with?” you asked the group annoyed.

“sure but now first the challenge! You guys don’t know what it is right?” you all nodded. Right so we’re going to be bound to one another. So we have a rope and we tie it up around one ankle so you’re bound to the other person. “excuse me know???” you asked unamused. They laughed. “Y/N you’re with Tyron.” They made the pairs and you tied each other up.

You went in the haunted house and already got scared. You and Tylor wanted to run but you both went the other way which made you fall down. The rest of the group laughed again. “Fuck dude!” you yelled but more at the actor and yourself. This went down for another good 4 minutes which got harder with the second since the actors had their eyes on you and Tylor because you were so scared. They figured “Let’s make it worse!”. At the last minute in the haunted house you and Tylor untied yourself and fleet the scene with a lot of actors behind your asses. You run like you never had before.

~end footage~

The cast was laughing a lot and you giggled a little while holding your face in embarrassment. “So I figured you didn’t really liked it?” Graham asked you. You laughed “no not really”. You all talked about it for a little more until the show ended.

You were standing in the dressing room changing in sweatpants. the cast couldn’t stop talking about it. “You have to give me that footage!” Chris said laughing. You rolled your eyes. You knew you were going to be the center of Chris’s scare pranks. Everyone was changed in comfortable clothes and Sebastian in black sweatpants as well.

You all got out of the building thinking of what to do next since everyone was so hyped. “I have a great idea!” Anthony said and whispered something to Chris who was now laughing his ass off. You frowned and looked at Sebastian who looked at you in confusion as well. “okay I know a great place!” Anthony said which made Chris laugh more “yeah I don’t think I trust you right now” you told Anthony. “Oh come on you’ll love it! Just follow me” he said making his way. Everyone looked at each other considering it. Eventually following the two boys.

You walked in a funfair. You frowned and wondered what the two boys were up to. You stopped in front of a haunted house. “absolutely fucking not” you told them shaking your head. “oh come on Y/N. It’s not like it is a haunted house where you went. I mean we’re at a funfair. It’s not going to be that scary!” you rolled your eyes.

Sebastian placed his hand softly on your arm. “I’m here with you. I’m not going to let you alone or fuck with you.” He told you and got a little closer “you can hold my hand if that helps.” He said and you were waiting for him to crack up laughing but he didn’t he looked sincere. “and of course if you really don’t want to we don’t have to! I mean there are a lot of great games that we can play” he told you excited which made you laugh a little. “alright I’ll come with you” you said to Anthony and Chris.

“we’ll go too!” Benedict said motioning to him and Tom. “Great! So everyone is going!” RDJ said. They bought tickets and you were in line. It was a busy night. You stood next to Sebastian “like I said I’m not going anywhere!” he told you with a soft genuine smile. You took his hand softly in yours which made him smile. “I’m not going to let you go now” he said with a grin and you chuckled. “Hey love birds! It’s our turn now!” Anthony said.

You rolled your eyes. fine now or never you said to yourself. Sebastian squeezed in your hand. What all of you didn’t know was that this was the scariest haunted house in the world. It toured all over the world and looked like a crappy haunted house but at the back it was huge! But you all didn’t know that.

You walked in and you immediately had weird vibes. Tom and Ben noticed as well and looked at you a little worried but getting scared themselves as well. You started to hold Sebastian’s arm with your free hand. He looked at you. “Are you okay?” he asked “I don’t know it feels…..” right before you could finish your sentence scare actors came from everywhere and there were flashing lights and loud sounds like they were throwing stuff.

“oh fuck….” You heard Anthony say. Sebastian threw a arm around you and still held your hand protectively. “I’m not letting go. I’m right here sweetheart.” He said while getting a little frightened himself. Tom stood on the other side of your protectively as well. Sebastian threw a mad glance at Anthony and Chris.

You were a couple of rooms further but that meant it only got scarier. A scare actor came behind you and you jumped to the front where there was another scare actor waiting for you. He came into your personal space and into your face which made you more mad and angry then scared actually. “The hell!” you said angry. Sebastian and Benedict pulled you back and took you further. “what an asshole!” you said and huffed.

You let go of Sebastian’s hand more pissed then scared and walked towards the front. You pushed Anthony and Chris out of the way which scared them to death and walked up front. “oh she’s really pissed now” said Benedict. “yup” said Sebastian with a proud grin on his face. You ignored all the scare actors and didn’t get out of the way. One actor was trying to scare you and you just stood there, pissed of with a face of steel. He also tried to get into your face. “I really wouldn’t do that buddy. I’m not playing anymore.” You told him calmly. He went out of your way and all the boys looked surprised but also mesmerized. Anthony and Chris looked at each other in guilt and stress. You were really intimidating now and they knew you were mad at them. The started to get more scared of you then the actual haunted house itself.

You got out first and waited for Anthony and Chris while you stood there with your hands on your hips. They got out and immediately started to apologize. You looked unamused with them but your face softened a little at them. “I know you didn’t know but don’t you dare to do shit like this again” you said stern “Yes ma’am” Anthony said without thinking which made everyone giggle a little.

“So ehm well, that was eventful but I’m going back to the hotel now” Tom said. Benedict nodded. “yeah we’ll go as well. And again we’re really sorry Y/N” Chris said really feeling bad. You gave them a hug. “It’s okay now just don’t do something like this again” they nodded and left. “Well have fun lovebirds! Just not too much fun” RDJ said with a wink.

When everyone left you looked at Sebastian. “Thank you for keeping your promise Seba” you told him softly. “of course! Can’t let my favorite girl suffer!” you started to blush not really knowing what to say. He smiled at you. “What about those games huh?” Sebastian said with a grin. “sounds good to me” you told him with a smile.

After a few games you started to get chills. “Are you cold sweetheart?” Sebastian asked you. A little bit yeah. Sebastian took his coat off and after that his sweater. He pulled his coat on again and helped you out of yours. He pulled the sweater over your head. It was so warm and soft and it smelled like Sebastian. “Better?” He asked you with a soft smile but yet so bright. “Much” you told him giving him a kiss on his cheek which made him blush.

The whole evening you played games. Sebastian won a lot of plushy toys for you. You both walked back to the hotel. You with a big ass plushy toy in your arms and Sebastian with four others and some food. You laughed your whole way back remembering the eventful night. “No, no, no, Y/N I’m telling you! You were such a badass. I mean even Anthony said Ma’am to you” Sebastian laughed and you fell against him from laughing so hard.

“hey I got a idea” you told him with a big evil grin on your face. He started to giggle “oh no, what have you got in mind?” You took his hand and walked towards the elevator and stepped in. “what room are they staying in again?” you asked Sebastian and he had to remain himself from laughing too hard. “ehm I believe 212” he told you. You got out of the elevator going to your own room to place the stuff down before going back again”You turned to Sebastian who looked at you curiously while you stood at their door. “payback time” you told Sebastian and you bonked at their door. You took Sebastian’s hand while running away.

You were both a giggling mess. “Hello?” we heard Anthony say. Sebastian got closer and you stood with your back against the wall. You placed your hand on his mouth to silence the giggles. “Hello???” You heard Anthony say again. Sebastian stopped giggling as well as you did. You started to look at each other. Getting lost in his bright blue eyes. and he in yours. You felt your heartbeat pick up. You realized that his body was plastered on yours at the moment and his face just inches away from yours. You slowly lowered your hand from his mouth. He got closer to you. That was when you heard footsteps. Sebastian took your hand this time and run with you. You ran across Chris’s room and you bonked on that one as well before running further.

You kind of went in circles. You saw the back of Anthony and Chris. They were talking to each other. This time you dragged Sebastian behind you. You slowly made your way towards their back. When you were finally there you started to yell. But not hard enough to wake up other guest but enough to scare them. Chris fell on the ground and Anthony held onto his chest. “Payback bitch!” you said laughing along with Sebastian. They looked at you petrified “goodnight” you said with an evil smile like a hint for them to know that there would be more (there wasn’t but you let them think that there was).

You went back to your hotel room with Sebastian. You were still holding hands. “Do you want to watch a movie maybe?” you asked Sebastian not wanting to be alone. He grinned “I would love that”. You felt butterflies in your stomach again.

You got in your hotel room and Sebastian placed the big plushy bear on your bed which made you giggle. You started to take his sweater of before he stopped you. “keep it on, looks better on you anyway” he told you with a soft smile which made you blush once again.

You got beverages out of the fridge and some crisps and you plopped on the bed. Sebastian wanted to take the chair which made you frown but yet made your heart melt at the gentleman that he is. “Seba?” He looked at you and you padded next to you on the bed. He smiled and said next to you. You both choose a comedy movie and you made yourself comfortable.

You laid on Sebastian’s chest with your arm on his stomach. He held you close to him. “Seb? Can you please stay with me tonight? You asked him sleepy. “I will. I’m not going to let you go sweetheart.” He said with hearts in his eyes when he looked at you. He crawled closer under the covers with you which made you lay almost on top of him. He started to laugh “Sweetheart, I would love to stay with you but you have got to let me breath” he said laughing. You groaned and laid next to him.

He turned so you were face to face. He studied your features with love in his eyes. “you’re staring Seb” you said chuckling and opening your eyes. he blushed a little. “I’m sorry. You’re just…. You’re just really beautiful and…. And I really like you Y/N”

Your eyes got big at his confession. You loved him you just didn’t think he would feel the same. “I really like you too Seb” You told him. He got closer again and placed his plump lips on yours. He cupped your cheek with his hand and you deepened the kiss. After a while he pulled back. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” I would love to Seb. Only if you make it just as adventurous as this one” you told him with a smile. He had the biggest grin on his face. “promise except for the haunted house” he told you. You smiled. “I had you with me so it wasn’t so bad” you told him with a grin. He kissed you again. You both couldn’t wait for the future and adventurous dates you would have. Everything would be okay because you had Seb and Sebastian had you.

Masterlist

[oitommothetease]

Long Story Short (3/3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Modern AU)

Description : 

Long story short, it was the wrong guy Now I'm all about you I'm all about you

Word Count : 2.2k words

Warning : fluff, ex Steve, Bucky Barnes my beloved, Just Bucky being an amazing partner

Bucky Barnes does not do relationships. Well, to put it in better words; Bucky Barnes did not do relationships until he met you. As a marriage counselor, he had advised many couples to just get a divorce, and even though he had saved a lot of marriages, the bad ones always hurt him more. To be the person to witness unhappy couples was not the best profession. But again, to be the person to save a marriage or bring back the lost love made his profession the best in his mind.

He did not have hope for a future relationship. He tried dating, it did not work out, and then he became the man who always left after the night and never stayed over. Not only that, but he thought his life would remain the same, and he would become a miserable 60 years old that hated lovesick teenagers and would die in his bed alone.

Bucky’s life changed when he met you on the flight. You, with your obvious shittier life, changed everything for him that weekend. And that was two years ago.

He fell in love and that changed it all, things just started falling into place perfectly like a domino effect going smoothly. He called you the moment you landed and asked you out. Likewise, he was scared that what happened back in his hometown was some sort of escape for you. Luckily, it wasn’t, you said yes and he was ecstatic. 

The date went splendidly, you talked about everything from your careers to your embarrassing high school moments that still sometimes haunt you at night. He told you about his family and he came clean about what went down with Dot (She wanted a relationship, he didn’t and then he bolted). It scared you, Bucky was so different, you’ve never been with someone who didn’t plan everything out, but it was exciting nonetheless. He assured you that he wanted a relationship with you because and let's be honest, he was already very smitten.

He thought that was the best weekend of his life. You proved him wrong, every day with you was the best day of his life.

“This is technically our third date,” you suggested.

He gasped, dramatically placing his hand on his chest. “This is our first date to me and you’re already trying to get in my pants. Give me some respect, lady.”

You laughed, shoving a hand on his arm playfully, and he held your wrist, bringing your body closer to his. He wrapped his other hand around your waist and leaned down to leave a longing kiss on your lips. “ As much as I would love to stay the night. I wanna do right by you, doll.”

You smiled and leaned in for another kiss, foreheads pressed together, before you jokingly said, “FYI, I have already been in your pants before.”

That was the moment Bucky knew you were the one for him. 

***

Alpine fell in love with Bucky quicker than you could. On the fourth date when Bucky finally let you take him home, Alpine came from her hideout in the kitchen and sat on his feet. Alpine never did that with anyone, your friends had told you that you had the most hostile cat ever. Whenever a new person entered your apartment, Alpine either ignored them or attacked them, but with Bucky, she was affectionate.

For you, it wasn’t one moment that made you realize you were in love. Unlike Bucky, you had a lot of issues to deal with before you could give yourself completely to him.

Bucky never judged you, he gave you the time you needed and never pushed you when he was ready to acknowledge he loved you. 

Of course, the insecurities were also present, you’d have urges to go throw his phone or stalk everyone he follows on Instagram. You told Bucky, hoping he doesn’t call you crazy, but instead he gave you his phone’s password. Yes, now your face could unlock his phone too. He told you he trusted you, and you were it for him so if that’s what you needed to be sure, he would happily oblige and wait for you.

It took you six months to finally acknowledge your love for him.

When you were working on a divorce case, the wife told you that when her husband walked into a room, she didn’t feel anything. You got lost in her story and told her how when your boyfriend, your Bucky was nearby you felt calm, lighter even. She smiled and told you she would like to have a love like that. And your mind just went, ‘Holy shit, I am in love with Bucky’. After wrapping up for the day, you immediately rushed towards Bucky’s office, you couldn’t wait to tell him about your recent discovery.

You sat across from him at his office, anxiously fiddling with your finger. “Bucky, I need to tell you something important.”

He looked up from the file on his table and closed it before giving you all of his attention. He always did that which made butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Go ahead, doll. I’m all ears.”

 “I... I need to tell you something important.”

He nodded his head, encouraging you to go ahead.

You exhaled and said, “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

Bucky studied your features, concern quickly replaced intrigue. This is it, he thought. You’ve realized that he was a rebound and now you were breaking up with him.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

 “I love you.”

You both said at the same time.

“What?” you queried, standing up from your seat and moving towards his chair.

You settled on his lap, cradling him, one of his hands rested on your thigh and the other on your lower back, holding you still on his legs. “What?” 

“I love you,” you confessed, taking his cheeks in your palms and you gently pressed a kiss on his lips.

“Say that again,” a grin spread across his face, the corner of his lips almost reached his ears.

“I love you,” you said, beaming with adoration in your eyes.

“God, doll. I love you so much.”

***

After dating for a year, you decided to move in together. Every day with you had been the happiest day of Bucky’s life. It had been exactly two years since you met Bucky and he was so head over heels for you that sometimes he couldn’t even voice it. Maybe that is why he had a velvet box in his pocket, so that he could express his love for you without gathering the courage to say it.

Both of you decided that for your second anniversary, you were going to have dinner in your shared apartment that you made home. You planned to order take out with movies followed by lovemaking, whereas Bucky planned to make you his fiancé by the end of the night - which was also followed by intense lovemaking.

While on his way home, he stopped to pick up your favorite flavor of the cake. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he quickly picked it up without checking who it was.

“Hey, pal,” Steve’s voice greeted him, taking him by surprise. Bucky hadn’t talked to his best mate since - well, since he found out what he did to you. Bucky was furious that he hurt you like that and made you doubt yourself. The selfish part of Bucky was thankful, not for hurting you, but for leaving you because Bucky couldn’t imagine a life without you. And hopefully, after the proposal, he wouldn’t have to.

“Steve,” Bucky said. A silence lingered where both of them could hear the other breathing, but none of them knew what to say, if anything was even left to say. Both of them broke the silence together at the same time.

“Peggy and I are getting a divorce.”

 “I’m going to propose to Y/N.”

 “You what?” Steve asked.

“No, you what?” Bucky countered.

Steve exhaled through the device connecting two old pals and spoke, “Yeah, we tried, but it just didn’t work out. I don’t even know why I went back after the first time. I lost so much by just doing that.”

Both of them were aware of what he was talking about; you. Steve lost you from falling into old patterns with his ex-wife. Steve regretted it. Peggy’s pregnancy wasn’t planned and when she told him, he tied down the knot for the sake of his future family. It took Steve two months to realize that he loved you and not his wife. He didn’t contact you, you asked him not to. The only reason he invited you to his wife’s baby shower was so that he could win you back. He hoped seeing him would make you want him again, but when you walked in with his best friend’s hand in yours, he didn’t know how to react. He had lost you to Bucky of all people and he hated his mate for this, for taking away the best thing in his life. 

“Are you sure about her?” Steve questioned, hoping to raise some doubts and second thoughts in his best pal’s mind. He knew that was wrong, but he desperately wanted you back. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Bucky answered dreamily and Steve could feel his heart crack.

Steve should have stopped, he shouldn’t have relented but Steve wasn’t a good man like you thought he was. Good men don’t cheat on women, good men aren’t selfish. “It's gonna change everything between us, pal. Is she worth it?”

 “Yes.”

Bucky didn’t hesitate in his answer and hung up the phone instantly. He realized quickly that anything that separated him from you or even tried to was not going to be in his life. Bucky was a possessive man and he would die rather than give up his two best girls, you and Alpine.

***

When Bucky came back, you didn’t expect him to kiss you so feverishly, as if he let you go, he’d lose you. He would never lose you, that you were sure of.

Your anniversary went down as you planned. Eating pizza and talking while the movie became a background noise was peaceful, domestic and everything else you desired. You could spend the rest of your life like this. Just you and him — and Alpine, obviously. 

Bucky was hiding something that much you could feel. You both always knew when something was up with the other. A tiny part of your brain panicked that maybe Bucky was cheating on you. He wasn’t; there were no signs, but your brain always mustered up the worst condition as a defense mechanism.

So, when Bucky got down on one knee with a ring in his hand as you were bringing the cake from the kitchen, tears welled up in your eyes. Bucky gently took the cake from you and placed it on your dining table before getting a hold of your hands in his.

“Doll,” he started, and tears were already starting to stream down your face. “ I love you so much that it physically hurts me sometimes. I never thought I would be fortunate enough to be happy, but God, you make me so happy and I can’t even…”

A lump formed in his throat and he tried again, “I had this whole speech planned and now I can’t even get a sentence out without crying. They make it look so easy in those rom coms.”

You chucked, stifling a sob that was threatening to break out. ” Nothing about us has been conventional. I mean, from the way we met to the way I’m proposing, but that is what I like about us. You are already my home, my family, my everything and I would like you to be my wife too. So, Y/N Y/L/N, would you make me the happiest man alive by marrying me? ” 

“Yes! God, yes, Bucky.” you beamed, holding his palm tightly, supporting him to stand up. He situated the ring on your finger before claiming your lips in his. He kissed you with so much passion and adoration that you felt that even if the earth swallowed you whole at that moment, you still wouldn’t mind. You’ll be glad because you got the opportunity to know and love a man like Bucky. 

After the very anticipated and passionate lovemaking, you settled your head on Bucky’s chest, limbs tangled together, and his arms wrapped around you, igniting you with warmth and love, so much love.

“Alpine is gonna get mad that I took her man,” you remembered, repeating the words you said all those years ago in a hotel room. You did not know where it was going then but God, you wanted it to go somewhere. Somewhere like this, engaged to him.

Bucky chuckled, reminiscing that night and weekend before pulling you closer, placing a kiss on top of your head and promised, “Alpine is not the love of my life, my future wife, my everything, doll. You are.”

TAGS : @ladydmalfoy​ @niffala​  @vicmc624​ @leyannrae​ @priii​

[ijenoyou]

It’s you again. one.

bucky barnes x stark!reader.

summary; when Bucky sees you again a few months after the blip he can’t help but remember his past lover.

warnings; spoilers from the serie hehe prob angst & fluff ig lol mentions of tony’s death

notes; soooo it’s been a while since i’ve written something sooo this might suck ass lol anyways remember english isn’t my first language sooo yeah enjoy :D

You were too tired to keep your eyes open, your body kept on swaying until you finally gave up making your head land on Bucky’s shoulder. His conversation with Sam getting interrupted when he felt your arms hug his metal arm.

Sharon had a smirk on her face and decided to start getting prepared for a meeting she had. “I have stuff to do so why don’t you guys enjoy the party? And don’t cause any trouble.” She said before leaving the room.

Sam stood up and began walking towards the door with Zemo following him. “You coming?” He asked his new partner.

“Uh, yeah, just let me lay her down.” Bucky answered and took your head carefully, guiding your body to lay properly on the couch, you were still holding onto his arm so he took one of the matching cushions of the couch and gave it to you so your arms could let go of his.

He took his jacket off and decided to cover you with it, making sure your back and arms were under it. He softly smiled and placed a piece of hair behind your ear so it wouldn’t tickle your face.

After that he turned around and saw both Sam and Zemo looking at him a subtle smirk. “What?”

“I’ve never seen you being so gentle.” He mocked gaining a groan from Bucky. “What’s up with that? Since the whole mission started you have been acting weird, is it because of Stark?”

“Depends on which one you’re talking about.” Bucky took one last glance at your sleeping figure.

“Her.”

Sighing, Bucky massaged his temple. “I need a drink first.”

*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡

Back on Zemo’s private jet you decided to give everyone the cold shoulder, angry at them for leaving you without saying anything or at least leaving a note. You could’ve helped them with the hundreds of mercenaries that attacked them. Zemo placed a plate with food on it in front of you and gave you a small smile, trying to make you feel at ease.

Walking down the street with Zemo like nothings wrong made you feel on edge. Thinking that maybe the new copy of Steve would appear and make things harder but you kept on wishing that it wouldn’t be the case. Zemo lead the group to a unknown building.

“I’m gonna go on a walk.” Bucky said out of nowhere.

“Take Y/N with you, don’t what could happen.” Sam said and took your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes. “Sam, he can take care of himself.” Taking his hand off your shoulder you began walking to the buildings door, leaving everyone behind.

“See you guys in a bit.”

He came back after a few minutes and started talking about how the wakandians are looking for Zemo.

All of this mess made you wonder why were you there in the first place. Sure, you had nothing to do since your father died and also coming back after 5 years, didn’t help at all. But maybe you were there because Sam called, he was the only one who tried to search for you when you decided to disappear.

“Your TT would be proud of you.” Zemo’s voice brought you back into reality after watching their whole conversation and play it on your mind.

“What’s a TT?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“Whatever, we need to get moving.” Sam spoke dismissing the question you made.

You weren’t sure if the plan would work, searching for Donya was harder that you could think of and it definitively made you wonder what could go wrong if anyone from the group made a mistake. And losing your powers didn’t help the situation at all. But that’s a secret. Nobody knows you lost them and the most important thing, nobody knows you’re slowly dying. So maybe that’s one of the reasons you decided to help Sam, doing a last mission until your body gives up. You just hoped you get to finish the mission and not die in the middle of it.

But now, you had to worry about another thing. And that is John Walker, getting himself in things he doesn’t understand nor is involved in. Waiting for Sam next to him wasn’t the best moment in your life, the only thing you could do was stare at him with dislike written on your face.

Feelings like your skins burned you decided to start rubbing the sides of your neck and Bucky didn’t let that pass through blind eyes.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks with a bit of concern filling his voice.

“Uh, yeah.” You cleared your throat. “I’m probably getting sick, don’t worry.”

Before Bucky could say anything else, Walker decided to put the mission on risk and walk inside the building Sam and Karli were having a conversation. You extended your hand to hold John by the shoulder.

“Why don’t you go and take a seat? You’re going to ruin the plan if you walk inside.” You spoke, trying to hold in the pain and burning under your skin.

John pushed you and entered the building.

And just like that, the whole situation became a mess. Ruining and shouting, the only thing you had become used to in these days.

The Dora Milaje were now your only solution. And they definitely know how to make a good entrance.

“Why don’t you relax pal?” You said to John before he gets himself hurt by the Dora Milaje, but it was too late, he placed his hand on Ayo’s shoulder. Big mistake.

You decided to sit back and watch them fight, you and Zemo exchanged looks, you gave him a nod, letting him go to the bathroom and possibly run away.

“I told you to relax, it’s what you deserve for being an ass.” You spoke with mock towards John.

Before the Dora Milaje could leave, Ayo turned her head to you and extended her hand, which was holding a stick, just like the ones the Dora Milaje use but it looked different.

“Here, Shuri told me to give it to you.” You took it and placed on your back.

Now it was only Sam, Bucky and you.

You were too tired to keep going, there’s was no point in being there without powers, you could barely fight and it made you angry. But what made you feel even worse is that you didn’t know what was causing it and seeing your body fill in with different colored lines brought back some bad memories.

Tony was well-know for not sharing his feelings or thoughts. And that made it harder for you to help him. Being at a young age didn’t matter, you did understand what was happening to him, slowly dying by the toxins coming from his reactor.

Seeing the lines in his neck will always haunt you for the rest of your life. The worst part of it is that you couldn’t tell anyone about it, he made you promise not to tell Pepper or Happy and that also caused you some trauma. He made you believe you couldn’t vent out your problems to your family or friends. You didn’t have anyone. Not even Pepper. You decided not to bother her or Morgan with the “My adoptive dad died and I have no one else” act. So it was really hard to say anything to Bucky or Sam, you didn’t want them to know that your body is not the same since you fought against Thanos.

“Go to Sarah’s, I’ll tell her to receive you back at home, okay?” Sam took both of your shoulders. “You don’t look so well, let Buck and I finish this and then call me when you feel better.”

You nodded and decided to leave immediately. Before you could go, Bucky took your arm, grabbing your attention.

“Be careful, if something happens call me immediately.” He said in a serious tone. You pushed his hand off you and muttered a small yes.

Bucky’s eyes didn’t leave your figure until it disappeared behind doors. Sighing he took a seat on the coach.

“I think it’s time for you to tell me what’s happening between you and Y/N.” Sam demanded while crossing his arms.

Nodding, Bucky tapped the seat next to him, indicating Sam to sit there so he could start speaking.

“I’ve known her even before the mess at the airport started.” Bucky started to slowly speak. “Or at least her face.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N, she looks like someone I used to know back in the 40s, her name was Sophia.” He explained with clear pain showing in his eyes. “Sophia and I met while I was preparing to become a soldier, she was a nurse back then.”

“What happened to her?” Sam asked with wonder running in his mind. He wanted to ask more questions about this person.

“Died of old age. I fell in love with her, but never saw Sophie again, after Steve rescued me I tried searching for her but nobody knew what happened to her and just decided not to tell anyone about it.”

“Not even Steve?”

Bucky shook his head and sighed. “When I saw Y/N back at the airport I thought my mind was playing games with me and that’s why I never touched her when Y/N and Tony decided to go against Steve and I.”

Sam patted his friends back, trying to bring him some kind of comfort but it didn’t help.

“And I’m just frustrated because I don’t know why she looks like Sophie, I asked the wakandians if they could find any information about Sophie and they found about her family, she had two kids and one of them had a girl.” Bucky bit his lips, trying to see if he could continue the story.

“You don’t have to tell me everything Buck, if it’s hard for you then you ca—“

Bucky’s voice interrupted him. “It’s fine. You see, everyone knows Tony adopted her, so it felt like there only was one answer. She had to be the daughter of Sophie’s children but then it was another death end. I recently found out that she’s not from Sophie’s family. It’s just fate I guess.”

“Maybe the destiny is giving you another chance to be with her.” Sam tried to give a good answer to him after what he said.

“I don’t think so but if it is that way, then I don’t deserve it”

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 1

Co-written with @southerngracela​

Summary: You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… When you arrive, you’re actually kind of excited and intrigued…but it isn’t long until that excitement and intrigue give way to fear when you find yourself in a helpless situation.

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this is a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @southerngracela​ for @jtargaryen18 ‘s  Haunted House 2020 challenge…and will be a mini-series, with an as of yet undefined number of chapters.

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"I can't even get in, not even with a press pass, I've been trying for two weeks, Mick!” you looked at him, your mouth slightly open. You’d told him this countless times at morning briefings. You hadn't even heard back from the organizers about sneaking around the press pass issue and offering an exclusive on the joint, a small fact you kept Mick in the dark about.

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

You glared at his retreating form. What the fuck did he not understand about the situation? Mind you, what did he understand about anything? There was a reason everyone working for him called him Mick The Prick.

There was also a reason he was being extra prickish to you. Earlier in the spring time of the year you’d run an article on Ransom Drysdale- the stuck up, trust fund asshole who had literally gotten away with murder. He’d confessed to murdering his grandfather’s house keeper, attempting to murder his grandfather and then, in a violent showdown with 2 police officers and a private detective present, he’d attempted to murder his grandfather’s nurse, Marta. And he would have succeeded, except the knife he’d used had been a stage prop. It was like some fucked up Murder, She Wrote plot, and when you’d interviewed the real life Jessica Fletcher (in this case the rather charming PI named Benoit Blanc who’d been a character to say the least) it got even more confusing. Ransom had hired Blanc in some elaborate scheme to frame Marta for Harlan’s death to do her out of the inheritance via the Slayer Rule. That had back fired spectacularly when she had unwittingly switched back the vials of medication Drysdale had tampered with, meaning Harlan had truly committed suicide. 

The article was supposed to be done showing his side of the story, a way for him to set the record straight, but the more you’d dug and spoken to people surrounding the case, the more you were absolutely convinced of his guilt, not least because he’d been acquitted on the murder and attempted murder charges on technical grounds due to his confession being, allegedly, obtained under duress and without a brief being present. The only thing they’d managed to pin on him was the arson which had burnt the Chief Medical Examiner’s office to the ground, and when his brief had successfully argued mitigating circumstances- he wasn’t of sound mind given the shock surrounding him being cut from his grandfather’s will- he’d basically ended up being released on license.

It was a joke, and that was basically what your article had said. You’d written a scathing attack on how money could basically render you untouchable by the law, highlighting the failures of the Criminal Justice System. At the time, Mick the Prick had been delighted with it, publishing it under your suggested head line “Murder, He Wrote”- ha, go figure, and copies had flown off the shelves, the article online going viral.

And then money had talked once more, and the Drysdale’s had threatened to sue for defamation. That in itself was a joke, as you knew full well his mother, Linda, was only doing it to salvage her own reputation, the same reason she’d worked so hard to find a lawyer to get him off the charges despite the fact she knew full well he was guilty as sin. Mick The Prick had attempted to throw you under the bus spectacularly when the board had come looking for blood, but as editor the buck stopped with him, and he was given a formal warning whilst you were forced to publish a retraction and offer a written apology much to your utter chagrin.

Which was why he was now making your life as hard as possible, and your Investigative Journalism skills, that you’d honed over the last decade; from high school paper, college tribune and now your current employer, over the last 10 years or so since graduation were now being focussed on covering stories about housewives who found Jesus’ face in a slice of toast, or in this case a fucking Celebrity Host Halloween Haunted House review. Whereas you had dominated the first 2 pages once upon a time, you were now lucky if you made it further up than page 11.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

By the end of your day, you were burning what felt like the midnight oil however it wasn't very late at all. Dark had settled in but it wasn't late by time. Just before you were to log off and leave for the night, a TV dinner and pint of mint chip waiting for you in your freezer (and probably a job search too seeing as you would no doubt be fired tomorrow morning for failing on your deadline) your email pinged on your desktop. You frowned at it, wondering who could possibly be emailing you this late but then you recognized the sender.

It was the reply you'd been waiting on from the organizers from the Celebrity Host Haunted House. Clicking the email open, your eyes scanned the message. The organizer was setting you up with a private tour, TONIGHT. "9 pm," you finished reading aloud, relief flooding your entire body. It meant a long assed, sleepless night whilst you wrote your article, but it was better than the looming threat of unemployment. Plus, on the upside, as it was a charity gig the organizer had pulled out the big guns and the blurb on the email told you that it was to feature none other than Lucas Lee, a once-upon-a-time famous A-List Movie star, who was possibly just as arrogant as Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you had to give it to him, in the films you’d seen he was actually damned good, and also pretty hot so…every cloud.

Glancing at your clock, you had just enough time to clock out and grab a quick bite at a drive thru on your way. The location was nearly an hour outside the city so you needed to get gone and fast. A quick reply telling the organizer you were on your way was sent out and you grabbed your coat, pulling it on over your sweater dress and were gone. 

It took a good hour like you'd estimated and that was with stopping for a quick meal, to reach the address your GPS brought you to. It was creepy even at its first glance so you could only hope this payed off. With a quick swig of your watered down and flat fountain drink, you grabbed your bag and phone, exiting your vehicle and locking it shut. The cool night air bit at your exposed cheeks and you were glad you'd worn your coat and tights.

As you stood, gazing at the dilapidated house you shivered, as though, ice had replaced you spine. The walkway leading up to house was cracked, blood red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and the moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the of the house's walls which showed the black decay of neglect, in between which splotches of original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey and you gave another shudder, as far as first impressions went, yeah, it was fitting for a Halloween Haunted House tour.  

Pulling out your phone, noticing you had no reception (of course you wouldn’t, wasn’t that the cliché?) you took a few photos to use in the article and then gave a little squeak as the door creaked open on its own. Arching your eyebrow slightly, in a manner very much like the man you were here to meet, you strode forward and into the house. Immediately a musty, dank odour crept into your nose. The house was deadly silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans typically associated with a property that age. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling of the tall hallway you stood in and the windows that framed the door on either side were covered with grime and dirt meaning the calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays, the main source of light being the open doorway. Sharp shadows roamed around the room and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed that there was a bright white envelope almost perched on the wooden table to the side of the hall. It was the newest thing in the room, so was obviously there for you.

You crossed over, the heels of your suede boots clicking loudly out in the silence of the hallway, and gently reached out for the envelope. A single word- Start- was written on the front in cursive, looping scrawl, very fitting for a spooky note. Another detail you committed to memory for your write up. You slid your finger into the crook of the envelope and slid it open. Inside was a small, white card, containing a message written in the same writing.

To ensure that you don’t become tomorrow’s big news, In this envelope you’ll find the first of 6 clues Of your super sleuth skills you should be proud, So make sure that you read your answers out loud. As one by one they lead to your ultimate demise. Which may or may not be a scary surprise…

Okay, now you were interested. This wasn’t just a walk through some scary assed, supposedly haunted house where Lucas Lee was no doubt set to jump out at you in some ridiculous disguise. This was a scavenger hunt, and your natural inquisitiveness was piqued. 'This could be fun', you thought as you reached for the next card that was in the envelope, reading the first clue. 

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but, not enough to prevent cold

You pondered for a second, heat was leading you to think of a fire, and they certainly grew shorter with time, well eventually when they burnt out…but then again, the longer they went the hotter they got, and they certainly prevented the cold. Scanning the hallway for anything that might fit the description, your eyes flicked up to the ceiling which held an elaborate, but tarnished candelabra style chandelier. And then it hit you. Tall when young, short when old.

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

At that the door leading to the outside slammed shut behind you, and you gave an involuntary scream as the dominant source of light was sealed off. You spun round to look at it, and then your scream turned in to a laugh as you shook your head, for an Investigative Reporter you prided yourselves on steely nerves but so far that was twice this adventure had caught you off guard.

Turning back round, you then spotted that the door at the end of the hall was open, and you could clearly make out a Jack-o-Lantern looking at you, the candle inside flickering. Its face was creepy, really creepy. The nose and eyes were harsh triangles and the grotesque, twisted smile it sported was constructed of sharp, jagged teeth. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You may have had no service, but the flashlight was working. Keeping the light held in front of you so you could watch your step on the cracked tiles of the hall, you made your way towards the lantern and found yourself in a large, run down kitchen. The lantern and your flash-light provided the only light in the room as the windows were all overshadowed by gnarly trees, their branches every so often scratching the glass as they swayed slightly in the wind outside. The only other sound to be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet in the porcelain Belfast sink. 

A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound 

“Oh come on…” you muttered, “That’ ones obvious. Knife, the answer is knife…” You picked up your phone and shone it around the various surfaces of the kitchen and your eyes honed in on a wooden knife block containing a solitary knife. You crossed the room towards it and as you closed in on it, you noticed that the handle of the knife was an ornate silver filigree. It was no ordinary kitchen knife and as you pulled it form the block you realised it was in fact a dagger, antique by the looks of things. The blade was curved slightly, reaching a sharp point, the silver tarnished. But the more you looked at it, the more you suddenly became horribly aware that it wasn’t merely a dullness of colour at all. It was blood. 

“Dramatic…” you mumbled, and with a sigh you then realised there was no clue attached to it. Was this a distraction? A decoy? You were just about to stat ransacking drawers to find the actual knife you needed, when you glanced back at the block the dagger had been held in and noticed a flash of white peeking from underneath. Picking it up and moving it aside you smiled as you saw the same cursive writing, spelling out the word three. Seeing as you might as well play along, you used the dagger to slit the envelope open, tossing it back down on the counter as you read the next clue.

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

You fell silent, your mind racing to how the hell you were going to find a piano in this decrepit and yet enormous house. Then, your ears heard it. The subtle note from deep inside the house. It was a single key. But now that wasn't your concern, no, it wasn't the mice or the bugs or even the brown water. Your heart raced at the notion that someone was in fact in the house with you. 

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Step by step you followed the note that chimed every few steps and you found yourself beginning to wonder if it was a recording or if someone were really playing it, timing their play with the sound of your boots over the rotting floor. You wound your way through the narrow hall, ancient wall paper peeling from its tack, mastick and plaster falling away to reveal studs in places. 

Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room.

The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the  gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host. 

“Get a grip Y/N” you mumbled to yourself. You were surprised to find just how much this place was starting to set your nerves on edge. You took a deep breath, the pounding of blood in your ears began to quiet and you took a look around the room. There was no one in there with you, you were alone.

With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream. 

Not for the first time, you had to admire the effort Lucas was going to here. It was clear he had a flare for the dramatic, anyone could see that from his films and interviews but this was pretty damned good. It was making you wonder how he was doing it. Was he somewhere watching, pressing buttons to enact the various parts of his show? Instinctively you glanced up, looking for a camera or something you were being monitored by but you found no evidence of anything. 

“Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat.

“Window. It’s a window.”

Usually, at that point, something happened to point your attention to the place you should be looking but this time, there was nothing. Instinctively you looked out of the one on the wall by the piano, but as you stared at nothing but the darkness outside you realised that was too obvious. Just then your ears picked up a sound you couldn’t quite figure out, but it was familiar all the same. And then it came to you, it was the familiar click and clack of a skateboard, the wheels gliding over the brittle old floor and you span round in the direction it was coming from to see a window you hadn’t noticed before, this one was an ornate, stained glass window which bore some kind of flower design that faced directly out into the hall. 

He passed by slower than a flash but just enough to allow you to catch only a glimpse. You audibly gasped, your breath coming in a sharp intake of fright, because until then you had been alone on this chase. But it appeared you dramatic host had finally come out to play. He was merely a shadow, bulky in frame, tall and dressed all in black as he moved past but it was enough to puzzle you. You didn’t remember Lucas being that broad, or tall. With a frown you ran into the hall to catch him but saw nothing, and heard nothing, the only thing to indicate he had been there was a faint smell of the cedar and amber of what you assumed to be cologne. 

You paced quickly down the hall in the direction the figure had gone but as you passed the stairwell the light flickered on, instantly attracting your attention. You’d only briefly noticed the ornate staircase before, but with the lack of light you certainly hadn’t noticed the writing on the wall, dripping in fresh paint. Swallowing, as you mouth suddenly felt dry with fear you stepped onto the first stair, and as soon as you did you were plunged into almost complete black. Letting out a shriek as, once again, he’d managed to get the drop on you, you shook your head and reached for your phone, taking another few steps up so you were level with the next clue which you read aloud.

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize.” You bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination. 

Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Alongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background.  And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby. 

You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway. 

This room was a little lighter thanks to a lamp which stood on a nightstand. It wasn’t bright, by any means, but it was enough so that you could clearly see the bed in the middle of the room. And there, placed by the pillows was a thin box. On unsteady legs, you shuffled slowly towards the bed, the box before you making you quiver, your insides churning. A shaky hand tilted the lid open slowly, afraid something would pounce in a sneak attack. You shut your eyes ready to protect them in case a bat or bugs flew at you and when nothing happened, you opened them slowly and inspected the boxes contents. There was no envelope this time, just copy of a newspaper. Your newspaper. And you felt your blood run cold as you recognise the bold headline across the top. Murder, He Wrote: A twisted tale of Inheritance, Crime and Exoneration "Drysdale," you whispered in realization. But now, while you were well aware of what the article meant and who it was referring to, your brain shut down processing how on earth Lucas Lee and Ransom could possibly be connected. Your breathing deepened and you moved to pick up the article, but then the lid to the box caught your eye and you froze, for on the inside of the lid was another clue, only this one was a straight forward question which was spelled out using cut-out letters from the newspaper in question.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath. And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.  

*****

When Y/N went limp in his arms, Ransom laid her across the bed only leaving the room to hurriedly cover his tracks, blowing out candles and removing any trace of her that had been in the house. His time as his grandfather's research assistant gave him far more experience than it should have. When he returned to the bedroom she was still out cold but light as a feather as he carried her downstairs and out the back door to the awaiting SUV, smug that his plan had gone so well.

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

He drove away from the scene of his new crime towards the city, driving through the dead of night, on the beltway, and continued twenty minutes outside downtown Boston before pulling into the garage of a large red cedar and quartzite home. He killed the engine and closed the garage door, pulling Y/N from the seat she was slumped in when it was clear to do so.

He couldn't be seen, he wouldn't be seen. He carried her inside the spacious home, his boots tapping heavily against the dark marble floor of the kitchen and finally the lush carpeted staircase that wound down into the basement.

This is where he laid her, in the basement, on a bed, but not just any bed, the one that would now become hers. He adjusted the lighting in the space, low enough not to disturb her, but bright enough to give the room a glow so he could finish what he'd set out to do. In the shock of the struggle in the bedroom, she’d dropped her phone and he’d made sure to smash it long before he left the haunted house, making sure there'd be no device to track her. He'd already disposed of her car while she was playing his little game, every loose end as far as he could see was tied up.

And now she was all his. 

He brushed the hair away from Y/N’s face where it had fallen over her eyes.  With gloved hands he manoeuvred her undone, black woollen coat off her body, leaving her in the bottle green turtle neck sweater dress and thick tights she was wearing before he tossed it over the chair in the corner of the room and then undid the zips on her brown suede knee high boots. He dropped them to the floor, kicking them towards the same corner with the equal carelessness he’d shown her coat. With a final meticulous movement he rearranged her on the bed, so he’d appear more comfortable and just before he left the room, he wrapped the cool, metallic cuff around the ankle. It locked in place with a clink and with a final glance at her still unconscious form, he turned and exited the room, the door latching shut and with the snap of the deadbolt he locked her in.

*****

Your head pounded, your nose burned and your mouth felt dry with the faintest taste of something foul lingering as you swallowed. The light was low but still your eyes ached. You tried to decipher exactly what the hell had happened to you while you got your bearings. You tried to sit up but your body felt heavy, the soft bed you now realized you were lying on was not your own. Your breathing rapidly increased as you started to move in fear but a clink caused a screech to escape your throat. You felt the weight of the cuff around your ankle and a full panic set it.

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

You remembered getting the email from the Haunted Mansion supposedly hosted by Lucas Lee. You had arrived and were sent on what you thought was a fun and exhilarating maze littered with clues and riddles and then you remembered the last piece of the puzzle. You gasped as you remembered how his breath felt hot on your skin and how his voice registered in your mind.

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!" 

The door to your room, now coming into focus around you, flew open and there he stood, smug smirk, raging ocean blue eyes, hair neatly in place, dismantling frame clothed in a black sweater and dark denim, heavy footfalls sounding against the thick carpet under his feet. 

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away. 

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask. 

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"I...I'm not, don't call me that," you spat defiantly as he moved closer, taking you in, his predatory eyes moving over your body. This was it, you were going to die all because some trust fund prick was a hurt baby about an article (that you forcibly apologized for) revealing the sick and sadistic truth about him, his family, money and the justice system. 

"Are you gonna kill me?” You watched him carefully as he crossed the room towards you, trying to keep your voice calm so as not to betray the utter fear that was coursing through your veins at the fact you were trapped, fuck knows where, shackled to a bed with a murderer being your captor. “That's what this is about, right? My apology wasn't enough?"

"Your apology was forced bullshit.” He responded, his voice carried a hint of amusement, because of course, this was all a game to him. “You smeared my name, dragged my reputation though the mud and you expected an apology like that, half assed and full of more crap than your original hatchet piece, to be enough?" He was standing damn near over you now, a hand moving up your leg that was held by the cuff, your body frozen in a confused silent argument of fight or flight.

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

"No. I. Didn't." He lied and you had to hand it to him, a lesser person might have bought the garbage he was talking, because he was good at it. Lying must have been enough of a second nature for him that he actually believed everything he said himself. But then again, it wasn't actually a lie was it? Sure, he'd planned on indirectly killing Harlan and that plan had backfired and Harlan had actually slit his own throat. So at most he was indirectly responsible for his death, but none of that had stuck with the prosecution and so now here he was, a free man.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked. 

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow. 

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

"Try me, you son of a...." You didn't expect his lips to cover yours but they did. Unexpectedly warm and soft, despite the painfully harsh kiss. You managed to pull away but his hand still gripped at your throat and you felt the fear constricting your chest. But you were damned if you were going to show him a shred of weakness.

“You’re an asshole, Hugh…” It was all you had, the only thing you could use in your arsenal given your situation. You still had your voice. And you’d noticed that for whatever reason he appeared to hate that name.

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

“Or what? You'll kill me?” your voice rose in both volume and pitch as your desperation began to show. “We both know you're gonna do that once you've fulfilled whatever sick, twisted little fantasy this is. What are you waiting for, Hugh? Huh?”

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

You stayed stock still as large and surprisingly gentle hands trailed your curves up the outside of your thighs to your hips. As he reached the hem of your sweater dress he paused as you wrapped your hands around his wrists.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“This will be much easier if you just play-along, sweetheart” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. You let go of his wrists and raised your hands, laying them over the wool of his cable knit, palms flat against the plain of muscle as you attempted to push him off.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand. His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He ground out, his lips inches from your ear as he nipped at your skin. He was impressively strong and balanced, his weight even through his body as he kept his knees between your legs, a hand against your breast and the other stroking your sides and up your thigh. All the while, his lips sucked at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point as you turned your head away, tears filling your eyes

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

“I told you not to call me that.” He growled against your skin and pulled back, his eyes blazing as they locked on to yours. In sheer desperation, you managed to wrench a free hand from between you and gave him a slap, nails biting at his skin. Instantly you knew you’d pissed him off. His nostrils flared, his jaw set and as his eyes filled with fire and rage.

And you knew then, you were in for it.

“Bitch…” he snarled as he raised his left hand to his face where you had struck him, and then both his hands grabbed yours, yanking your arms up, pinning them above your head. You bucked upwards, violently in an attempt to shake him off, but it was futile. He was far too strong. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and despite yourself you let out a small whimper of fear.

In one hand he had the ability to cuff both of your wrists and he did so while his other grabbed at your dress, shoving it further up your body, fingers curling over the waist of your tights and panties, a handful of the material fisted in his palm. They wouldn't slide down quick enough and you felt your body lift away from the mattress slightly as he ripped away the material, the snap burning your skin. You fought, boy did you fight. You had no control of your hands or arms as he had them easily pinned, but your legs and the rest of your body gave as good as they could. You thrashed from side to side all the time screaming your objections. You drew your knees up to your chest in an attempt to buck him off. You screamed protests, threw every insult you had at him, but it was no use. He was simply too strong.

He didn't even bother with his belt or button, he just unzipped the flies on his jeans, pulled his solid cock free and slid in. You were wetter than you expected to be, but it still burned with friction and ached from the thick stretch against your tight walls. It hurt, definitely hurt.

"You know you want this. I know you want this." He rasped as he pulled out before thrusting back in, his face twisted in a look that was halfway between being smug and satisfied. Just looking at him made you feel sick but for some reason you were unable to look away as he continued his slow assault, before he picked up the pace slightly, his groans of satisfaction filling the room as he bottomed out, balls deep and it was at that point you closed your eyes and tried to block out what he was doing to you. But try as you might to remain mentally detached from the situation, your body was anything but. And the more he moved in and out of you, the more you could feel your physical reactions. You were powerless to stop them and the heat between your legs and in between your belly was spiking with each thrust into you.

It felt good. And you knew it shouldn’t. So you fought it, but eventually, you couldn't fight it anymore, not with  the way his thick cock filled you, velvety smooth skin sliding in and out of your defiant core. You didn't want to cum, but your body told your brain it was going to and Ransom nearly puffed his chest as he fucked you into your body's submission. 

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you, Sweetheart? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck, yeah…see…” Ransom’s hips began to move faster, and then with a sudden movement he pulled out of you, making you wince involuntarily at the sting. He shot his load all over your thighs, a growl bubbling from his throat, the warmth of his release trickling down your leg made you feel even more dirty than you already did. 

“Not so fucking smart are we now, huh, miss Investigative Reporter…” his snap was snide, and childish, but you knew he couldn’t help himself. Your head remained defiantly in its position on the pillow, turned to the right, eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. “Look at me, bitch.”

When you didn’t do as he asked, he grabbed your chin bruisingly, making you wince as he pulled your face round so he could see you. You knew he would be able to see the tears on your face, and you hated that. Hated that he would see how much he’d hurt you, scared you even, 

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat.

"That's all you got? You're a fucking child, Drysdale. It's why you’re doing this." You said, your voice trembling and croaking from the fear and exertion of what he had just put you through and you shook your head. “You’re a fucking man child with mommy and daddy issues. A spoilt, little whiney brat who can’t bear to be told no.”

That struck a nerve, you could tell, as his jaw clenched tight and his fists clenched around the sheets by your side to the point they were shaking. He grabbed your chin once more with his right hand and pinned your face still, forcing your eyes to look back at his 

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

As you looked at him, you felt your anger starting to simmer. This fucking ass hole had just raped you, and he had the gall to be saying you were going to tell him that you were sorry. No chance in hell. You knew you were screwed, literally and figuratively. Whilst he had you captive behind a bolted door, shackled to a bed you had nowhere to go, he knew that you knew that too and you could see it in his face as a smug smirk flickered on his lips. Well fuck this, if you were going down it was with a fight. With a sudden movement, that caught him off guard you moved your head slightly as much as you could in his painful grip, and spat right in his face.

Ransom blinked, his anger morphing to shock, then back to fury once more as he released your face and with a flash of his hand he back handed you straight across the face. The blow to your right cheek snapped your head to the left, sucking the breath from your lungs and leaving you a little dazed.

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

***** Ransom stormed up the steps to the kitchen of the house, slamming the top door behind him and bolting that one shut too. He was furious that little bitch had scratched him and no doubt marked his face. He strode over the marble tiles of the room and walked into the large hallway and across into the den. He made his way straight to the bar, poured himself a healthy measure of good scotch, slopping a little on the dark wooden counter, before he glanced up at the large mirrored surface of the bar behind the shelves.

He could make out three vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby. 

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end. 

The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his. 

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought. 

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** Part 2

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (part 9): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: nothing is the way it was before. there is no future; there is no past. all there is... is nothing. 

wc: 2.1k

tw: light gore

masterlist

“She’s not gonna eat; I already told you that.” 

The sounds of Kaori and Toji fighting just outside of your door leak into your room, but you’re beyond caring. Megumi sits beside you in the sun-lit room, eyes scanning the outdoors, looking for any sign of an animal. You’re tucked underneath a warm, thick blanket, despite the temperature outside being warm enough to cause a little sweat. No, things were better this way. 

When you had come to after blacking out, Toji, Kaori, and Megumi were hovering over you, trying to figure out what to do about the General’s untimely passing. But in the two months since, no one had quite figured out how to bring you back to life. The only thing they could do is watch you slowly waste away and become a shell of your former self. 

Your parents suspect it’s because your princely husband had not sent for you since the war had ended, and you’re grieving a supposed loss. But neither Kaori nor Toji had the heart to admit that this loss wasn’t supposed. It was real. 

Your days are spent in your bed or in the garden behind the house, mind empty as Megumi attempts to watch over you and possibly even cheer you up by play-fighting with his father. But more often than not, you’re reduced to tears, and Toji fetches Kaori because he “can’t deal with crying women”. 

“My lady?” The head maid enters into your room with an orange and onigiri in her hands. “I brought you some fresh fruit from the market. Hamai sends her regards as well.” Hamai - Yuta’s sister and wife of Yuko - had also attempted to visit you, but her grief motivated her to knock on your door, and you couldn’t bear to think of Yuta or Nanami or--

“Thank you,” you croak, and she nods, handing Megumi the two onigiri. 

“Your father said you’d better eat these or he’ll never--”

“‘Feed me again’. I know,” Megumi chants monotonously and takes the rice balls from her hands. “Thank you, Kaori-san.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want any visitors?” Kaori asks for the third time. You cut your eyes to her, attempting a glare. “Hamai would love to come and--” 

“Listen, the lady said no visitors,” Toji gripes, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. “I’ve been fighting off a ton of measly looking men who have nothing to say except ‘I’ve come to see Lady y/n’ and honestly, if you invite another person to this damn place, I’ll kill them on the spot.”

You roll away from the two people and look out of the window, remaining silent as Megumi eats his onigiri and stares at the bears and tigers in his book. Kaori and Toji retreat, restarting their squabble as soon as the door closes, leaving you to think about nothing and no one. 

_______________________________________________________________________

You’re in the garden when Megumi runs up to you, holding a light pashmina to cover your shoulders in the chill of fall. 

“Careful, you might get sick,” he warns, and you accept the article with a smile. 

“Thank you, sweet one.” The child climbs onto the bench you’re seated on, swinging his legs while you stare at the shishi-odoshi in silence. You’re suddenly reminded of the three other sweet children you left back at the camp, and before you can begin to sob out loud, your hand flies to your mouth. 

“Hey,” Toji appears from the house, hands deep in his pockets as he surveys the area. “You alright?” 

“Just fine,” you whisper, pushing back tears and grief all at once. “I just needed some peace and quiet.” 

“Yeah, gardens will give you that.” Toji stands beside the fountain and stares into the water for a moment before turning to Megumi. “There’s a frog out by the lake if you’re interested in--” Megumi hops down from the bench and disappears around the corner in a flash, abandoning you without a worry in the world. You sigh, watching him fade into the distance, and then turn to Toji, who is already staring at you with some unreadable expression. 

“What is it?” you grumble, blinking slowly. 

“Nothing, just…” Toji presses his lips together and looks sky-ward, thinking about his next words carefully. “I know you feel like everyone in the whole world can fuck off since Geto died… but have you ever considered moving on?” You tilt your head to the side, wondering if Toji really ever listened to himself talk. “I mean, yeah this shit is painful, but…” Toji rubs his neck and looks away from you and back to the fountain. “You have to move on at some point.” 

“He told me to wait for him,” you explain, wrapping the pashmina a little tighter and squinting at the shapes in the pool. “I’m going to do just that.”

“Y/n, he’s dead… what good will waiting do? Will you wait your whole life?” 

Your head snaps to Toji and you curl your lip up in disgust. 

“You’ve never loved anyone in this world but yourself and your money,” you spit, standing from your seated position so fast that Toji takes a half-step back. “I don’t imagine that you’d know what I’m talking about.” 

“That’s not true,” he retorts, frowning. “I’m trying to help you, that’s all. I’d hate to see you waste away over a man who can’t even survi--” The pashmina falls from your shoulders as your hand makes contact with his face, the echo of the slap scaring a flock of birds from the surrounding trees into the sky. 

“Speak ill of Geto again, and I’ll make sure those words are your last.” Toji doesn’t touch his bruised cheek as you stomp off, watching you retreat back into the house as he realizes that he let you slap him. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Screams haunt your sleep, fire burns the camp, and you’re running away, holding hands with the children as you dash into the forest. Geto is behind you, fighting off some unknown assailant, but you instinctively know how the dream is going to end.

You trip and fall over a root of a tree, but you yell at the children to escape. They continue running, not sparing you a second glance, but you turn around just as Geto is stabbed through the chest by a spear and falls with his back to the ground.  His head tilts back and he makes eye contact with you, blood pouring out of his mouth as he chokes:

“Wait for me.”

You shoot up in the bed and stumble out of your room through the sliding door that leads to the garden, sweat pouring down your neck and back as you sink to your knees. Your stomach heaves once, twice, depositing yellow bile into the bushes beside the house. The sun is barely up, and as you dry heave, you hear another door sliding open, Toji then Kaori tumbling out of your back door. 

“Poison,” Toji grunts, but Kaori pushes him aside before he can get to you. 

“No, she didn’t even eat anything before bed,” she states, rubbing your back with her cool hands. Your skin clams up as a breeze rolls across the garden, and you shudder violently before your teeth begin to chatter. “Toji, a blanket.” 

“Isn’t that your job?” he gripes, but walks into the house to grab a blanket anyways. When the cloth resta against your back, you feel a little better, but the feeling in your stomach won’t go away. 

“My Lady… talk to me. What’s the matter?” 

“Go,” you shake Kaori off, not wanting to repeat the events of your dream. 

“It’s probably because she didn’t eat,” Toji groans, the stairs squeaking under his weight. “I’ll get her a --” 

“Both of you. Go.” You look up at Toji, mustering your sternest look, and aiming the same expression at Kaori, who walks away from you, head hung low. 

You stay in the garden as true morning crests over the sky, lying on the bench under the bare cherry blossom tree while the skies turn into pinks and yellows, and reds. The image of Geto’s bloodied face wouldn’t depart from your memory and you feel the ache even deeper than before. The ache intensifies until it feels like all of you is just one large hole, throbbing with need and grief.

Nothing could save you. 

No one was coming back for you. 

They were all dead, and there was nothing left of the people you had grown to love and care for. 

It isn’t until your mother walks into the garden that you realize you might have missed your breakfast of an orange and water, but she comes bearing the fruit and you’re set back at ease. You wordlessly allow your mother to sit beside you, lifting your head so it rests in her lap snugly. She pats your hair gently, then inhales deeply, speaking in her normal soft tones. 

“Kaori told me you were sick last night,” she begins, and you nod as if she had asked a question and not stated a fact. “Ever since Geto Suguru died, you’ve been awfully sullen. One might think you had been with him the whole time and not at the Imperial Palace.” You glance up at your mother, and she winks at you. “Don’t worry; I won’t tell your father.” 

“How did you know?” you wonder, and she smiles, wrinkles forming at the edges of her mouth. 

“Well first, whoever the General gets to write his letters needs to brush up on their penmanship,” she laughs, then shrugs. “But it was your face the day that the General was announced dead that I saw you change. It only took me a few days to realize that you were in mourning, not upset that your prince hadn’t sent for you.” 

“Mother, I--” 

“You had every right to keep it a secret, although I wish you hadn’t. It would’ve made my interrogation of Toji much easier.” You imagine your own mother - all of five-foot-four, standing up to the massive Fushiguro with a finger to his chest - and you can’t help but chuckle. “Whatever the General did, I haven’t seen you glowing like you did when you returned since you were a little girl. I’ll have to find a way to thank him for that.” 

You choke out a deep sob, closing your eyes as you think of the lack of tribute, the lack of a funeral, the missing images of him that won’t return to your memory. 

“Though Toji takes good care of you. I haven’t seen that man slack off on his job once since after the announcement. He’s also been very helpful with your father. You know, he would ma--” 

“Lady y/n!” Kaori sprints out of the home, and you both look up to see her flustered expression, wondering what would have her so worked up this early in the morning. “There was a messenger from the Imperial Palace in the square!” she stops in front of you, panting heavily. “The Emperor… has fallen… ill.” When she catches her breath, the head maid can finally finish her statement, and she exhales deeply. “As is custom, his eldest son will be taking a tour of the country. And he’s named this village as his final stop, with your house as his resting place for the time he is here. He’ll be in the village in a fortnight.” You sit up, eyeing the maid carefully. 

Pieces of a puzzle begin to click together in your mind.

“His eldest son is Prince Naoya, correct?” 

“Yes, my lady.” As if sensing your premature plan, Kaori looks you dead in the eyes, daring you to do what she imagines you are already thinking of. 

“And you said a fortnight?” Your mother butts in, squinting her eyes.

“Yes.” 

“Fourteen days to prepare.” you whisper, lifting your head out of your mother’s lap and retreating to the house to find the eldest Fushiguro. Kaori enters behind you, grabbing your elbow before you can open his guest room door.

“What you’re thinking of is suicide,” she hisses, but you shrug. 

“What better way to rejoin Geto than to kill his murderer and then die myself?” you retort, but she slaps a hand over the gap between the wall and the door, blocking you from entering. 

“This isn’t what he would want,” Kaori pleads. “Please, think about what he said.”

“I cannot wait for a dead man, Kaori. Now, let me go.” You yank free from her grasp and enter the guest room, eyeing a lazy Toji lounging by the window. “I need your help.” 

He rolls his head around to look at you and raises a brow. “With what, my lady?” 

“I need to kill a prince in two weeks. Think you can help me with that?” 

“You mean treason?” Toji sits up, letting the book he held in his hands drop to his bed, and hums thoughtfully. “Killing a prince as revenge… putting the Imperial Court into chaos… yeah, I think I can help you with that.”

_______________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @kamisamaundercover @jotazinha @just4readingfics @mxhi @sammytamaki @brownskinnedgirll @keelyshayee @leanne-tamashi @vabybizzle @amaris9 @fuegy-fuegy @ambiguous-something​

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Grant You a Universe | Luke Patterson

Requested: Yes/No

wait because here me out, Luke as a quarterback AU like— imagine that, yeah imma request that, a luke quarterback au pls 🥺BUT HES THE COCKY GET ALL THE GIRLS QUARTERBACK YEAH YEAH AND READER IS POPULAR BUT THEY DON’T DATE BUT EVERYONE WANTS THEM TO BE THE POPULAR COUPLE CLICHÉ OMG

A/N: This is the longest I ever worked on a fic, I think? I hope you like it! 

Pairing: 90′s!Luke x Reader

Song(s) used: None (WHAT?! Yeah, I know, shocking!)

Warnings: Cheating, implied abuse, party, drinking, someone is drunk, aggression

Words:  6,868

The first time he saw her was Freshman year during football tryouts. While he was on the field, trying to pay attention to whatever the coach was blabbing about, she was running around it. Her ponytail whipping around her head as her feet pounded against the red gravel of the race rink. She was a flash of pink and brown hair, but it was enough for Luke to become infatuated with her. He didn’t even care when he became the quarterback that year. All he cared about was her. He needed to know who she was and ask her on a date, even if it were the last thing he did.  

The first time he ever spoke to her was a few days later, after their first game in Freshman year. She was sitting in the bleachers, cheering on the team, and Luke couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter as this beautiful girl cheered him on with every touchdown he scored. 

After the game, she came down to say hi to Bobby, the team’s Running Back and the girl’s best friend. Luke knew this. He had seen the two of them together a lot during lunches and in the hallways, but never dared to ask the boy that became a friend of his too, what this girl’s name was or what her deal was. 

But the fact that she came to say hi to him, gave Luke an opportunity to talk to her, too. “Hey, Bobbers, nice touchdowns,” the girl teased her best friend, who hadn’t scored any today. He did assist on some of Luke’s touchdowns. 

“Oh, shut it, y/n,” Bobby muttered and shoved her in the shoulder. He turned when Luke patted him on the back as he joined the group. “Good game, Patterson,” he said to the floppy haired boy next to him. The boy who couldn’t keep his eyes off his best friend for one second. 

“You too, Bobbers,” he repeated y/n’s nickname for her best friend, earning an eyebrow raise from the girl he’s been crushing for a week straight now. Even her eyes were captivating. The dark brown reflected gold in the setting sun.    

“You making fun of my nicknames, Patterson?” she asked, one corner of her mouth tugging up into a smirk. The boy became a stuttering mess at the teasing tone in her voice. 

“No, I uhm… I-I…” he scratched the back of his neck at a loss for words. “I’m Luke, by the way.” Y/N giggle reached his ears like a sweet lullaby. She shook her head at the boy. 

“Oh, I know.” 

Her straightforward reply haunted his brain for years to follow. He never knew what it meant but it became the thing that started a blossoming friendship. A friendship that made them the infamous ‘it-couple-that-wasn’t-a-couple’ by junior year. A title neither of you wanted, being in the ‘popular’ clique was already too much. 

“Chicaaaas!” Luke called out as he and Bobby walked into the student lounge where y/n and Lydia, her best friend and captain of the cheerleading team, were having some tea and chatting about girl stuff -- as Luke himself liked to say. “Party tonight at Alexis Bryan’s place, are we going or?” he rubbed his hands together as if he’d just concocted the greatest scheme of all time. 

Y/N smiled up at both boys and said, “Lyds and I were actually talking about having a sleepover tonight and making a puzzle together.” The two boys groaned and rolled their eyes at her answer. “What?” she asked. 

“You sound like two grandmas!” Bobby exclaimed and ran his hand through his dark hair. 

“Hey! No hate against grandmas!” Lydia exclaimed with a scowl on her face. Bobby raised his hands in defense before everyone turned to Luke, who was looking down at y/n. 

“I don’t know, Luke… I really don’t feel like running into Matt tonight.” 

“Come on, y/n. I’m literally nothing with my party partner in crime!” His eyes begged and pleaded, which was something y/n hadn’t quite learned how to resist yet. She’d tried to. Many a time. But she always had to give in eventually. 

Even now. “Fine,” she said. “But you’re gonna have to promise to dance with me!” Luke rolled his eyes at the compromise, but couldn’t help the smile finding its way to his cheeks. No matter how hard it was for y/n to say no to Luke, it was twice as hard for him to say no to her. 

“Fine,” he grumbled. 

That night, as y/n took her scalding hot shower in preparation for the party, she reminisced over the past few years and how much her life changed since she started high school. Her mind wandered over the first day, when she clung to Bobby’s bicep because she was so scared of all the new things around her. She remembered how tiny and scared she felt, but all of that washed away when Bobby reassured her he wouldn’t leave her side. Only when he went to try out for football and she tried out for the running team. Then her mind jumped to the day she met Luke at the football game and how he immediately caught her attention. Ever since that day, her life had become this big-ass chaos. If it weren’t for Luke, she would probably just be part of the sprint relay team. But thanks to being so close to the quarterback, y/n was popular by association. Though, she wouldn’t change it for the world. What she would change was how all her dates had always been scared of Luke. All except for one. Matthew. He somehow managed to get through Luke’s and Bobby’s shield of brotherly protection -- as they called it. The two had been together for a few months until the whispers started. Whispers about Matthew cheating on y/n, or y/n cheating on Matthew with Luke. None of which was very healthy for the relationship, so they broke it off. 

It would’ve been friendly if she didn’t see Matthew the day after their break up kissing one of her teammates. That’s when she knew the whispers about him weren’t just rumors. Even up until this day, she wondered if her sister ever had a thing with him, like the whispers suggested. 

As her Ace of Base CD played on her stereo, she started to make a move-on with her outfit and makeup. She opted for a black body con dress with spaghetti straps that accentuated her curves in just the right places. For her makeup, she decided on a neutral look and swiped the light browny color across her eyelids. 

By the time she started applying her mascara, there was a light tapping on her window. She turned around to find Luke on the small balcony at your window. He was wearing his Screams from The Attic band tee with the sleeves cut off and his trusty black jeans, decorated with the infamous chains and blue rabbit’s foot. 

She opened the window door to let him in and turned to grab her shoes. “Hey, you re--wowza!” he cut himself off when his eyes took in every inch of the girl in front of him. A blush crept to y/n’ cheeks as she strapped the black heels on. “That’s a fly outfit, girl.” 

“Thanks, Patterson. Let’s bounce, yeah?” 

Luke climbed over the stone enclosure of the balcony and carefully let himself hang down from the bottom before letting go and landing gracefully on his feet. He whispered a ‘yes’ under his breath before looking up to find y/n climbing over as elegantly as she could. Though, with that dress on, she was about to flash someone and the lucky recipient of the little sneak peek was of course Luke. 

“Is today a special occasion?” he asked. Y/N turned her head to look down at Luke while hanging onto the balcony for dear life. “You only wear red lingerie on special occasions.” 

“Why are you looking down my dress, you creep?” The giggle that followed the words reassured Luke that she wasn’t offended by it. It was a typical thing to bicker about in their friendship. 

“You flashed your knickers at me, Peaches, don’t blame me.” He held his hands up in defense, shooting her a sheepish look. Y/N scoffed at that and rolled her eyes before dropping down to hang from the balcony the same way Luke had done. 

“You are so lucky I love you,” she mumbled and then screamed, “Patterson, think fast!” She let go, and hoped Luke would be fast enough to catch her since she wasn’t going to stick the landing on her heels quite as much as Luke did. Thankfully though, Luke’s fast reflexes made him move underneath her just in time to catch her, bridal style. 

Their eyes locked for a moment, both of them suddenly realizing how close they really were. A smile made its way to y/n’s features and she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek before flicking her legs out of his grasp and patting his chest twice. 

“Thanks, buddy. That was like a crazy trust fall.” 

Leaving Luke behind to reflect on whatever just happened, y/n skipped towards Bobby’s car and got into the passenger’s seat. She planted a kiss on Bobby's cheek and then turned around as Luke got in the back, finding two other boys she knew all too well. 

 “‘sup homies?” she grinned cheesily at the blonde and brunette she knew as Alex and Reggie. The two other members of Sunset Curve, the band Bobby and Luke formed when they met in freshman year. 

The two boys smiled back at y/n while Luke gave her a glare, probably because she stole his seat in the front. However, y/n didn’t care or notice, for that matter. Her mind was wrapped up in something else instead. 

“So, Alex…” she started, capturing the blond guy’s attention. “How was your date with Driss?” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and it sent a scarlet color up to Alex’s cheeks. Even though his parents didn’t care for his sexual orientation, he was glad his friends supported him, even if that meant y/n’s curiosity in his dating life. 

“It was okay…” he replied humbly, but y/n wasn’t y/n if she let this slide. 

“Where did he take you? What did you do? What did you wear?” she gasped, “Did you kiss?” The boys collectively chuckled at y/n’s antics. All of them had endured her searching for cute date stories. 

“He took me to this really pretty lake where we had a picnic and we screamed into the dark,” he reminisced dreamily with a tender smile on his face. Y/N’s heart melted at the sight of Alex’s happiness. It was about time he got a happy ending too. 

“Did you kiss?” she repeated her question. 

Alex exhaled, a pout forming on his face as he said, “No… But! He did ask me for a second date tomorrow!” Y/N’s face lit up entirely as she clapped her hands giddily, making Alex laugh. 

“I am so happy for you, Alex.” She reached out her hand between the two front seats, and Alex grabbed it, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

The car abruptly came to a stop, causing y/n to lose her balance a little. “The hell, dude?” she asked Bobby, glaring at the driver. 

“We’re here, so unless you wanna continue this little tea party, get out of my car!” Y/N glanced at the other boys, who were equally as confused about the boy’s sudden behavior. 

“Someone needs to get laid tonight,” y/n muttered while she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of Bobby’s jeep, the boys following suit. She came to a halt in front of the house, looking up at the castle of a house. Music was thumping through the white brick walls and people were bustling about on the front lawn, smoking, drinking and talking. 

“You ready?” Reggie asked, placing a hand on y/n’s left shoulder while another hand grabbed her right one. Looking up, she found Alex smiling down at her with that reassuring smile of his. When she felt another hand on her right shoulder and a kiss to the back of her head, she knew she was good to go. She had all her best friends with her. She would be fine, even if she ran into the devil’s spawn. 

“If you wanna dip, just give us the sign and we’ll bounce,” Luke told her as he stood behind her. Slowly, but surely, y/n began to nod her head, mentally preparing herself for what’s about to come. 

She'd made up a million of scenes where she’d confront Matthew, coming up with the wittiest comebacks she could possibly think of. The perfect monologue that would forever be stuck in her head since she was too much of a shy girl to actually say those out loud. She might seem like a clever, obnoxious popular girl, but deep down, she was still the little geek from Middle School at heart. 

“Good to go,” she mumbled and started her way up to the house with Alex’s hand still in hers and the other boys safely surrounding her. 

As they walked into the house, they turned a few heads and with it began the rumor mill, like it always did. There was always something to spill about the group, it seemed. 

“Y/N!” a loud shriek brought y/n back out of her thoughts. When she looked up, she found Lydia walking up to them with arms wide open. As she hugged her best friend, y/n could smell the alcohol on her. 

“Hey, Lyds,” y/n chuckled, “Been here long?” She pushed the strawberry blonde hair off her and took in her presence. She was wearing her lucky red dress with the plunging neckline, which was enough information for y/n to know her best friend was drinking for some courage to get a boy into her bed. 

“About an hour,” she slurred, and then her eyes fell on the boys behind y/n. Another shriek deafened y/n as the girl stumbled into Reggie’s arms for a hug. The boy giggled, steadying the tipsy girl. Each on their turn, the boys handed the drunk girl off to the next, knowing she wouldn’t stop until she had hugged every single one of them. “So, what are we thinking, shots?” she asked as she leaned on Bobby’s shoulder for balance. 

“I think you need some soda,” Bobby replied before grumpily grabbing Lydia’s hand and leading her towards the kitchen. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as she watched the two walk off. Something wasn’t quite right with her best friend, she just couldn’t place a finger on what it was. 

“What’s gotten his panties in a twist?” she asked the others, who all simply shrugged. 

Within the first ten minutes, the group was split up. While y/n was talking to her running team, Alex was occupied with Driss, Reggie was playing beer pong with some people and Luke was, unsurprisingly flirting with some girl.   

Luke was notorious for his flirting with girls, so it didn’t surprise y/n too much when her eyes fell on the popular quarterback, surrounded by a bunch of cheerleaders. Though she had to admit, she loved it most when the flirting was directed at her instead of other girls. 

When their eyes locked, Luke shot her a wink with that overconfident smirk on his face that made y/n roll her eyes. After blowing him a kiss, y/n walked back into the kitchen for a refill of her beer. If she was going to survive this party, she was going to need some more party fuel. 

“Hey, y/n!” a familiar voice sounded from the other side of the kitchen. When she looked up, she found Astrid and Alexis Bryan, hostesses of tonight’s soiree. It was Astrid who’d called her name. Y/N raised her red cup at the girl as she made her way over to her, leaving her sister by herself. “How you doing?” 

“Pretty good. Nice party you got going on here,” she answered, nodding her head to the dancing students in her living room. Astrid chuckled and sipped from her own beer while leaning against the counter. 

“Yeah, it is pretty rad,” Astrid mumbled, “Though, we have to thank Alexis for that. Could never have done this myself, but she did, so…” A snicker left y/n’s body as she softly tapped her foot to the beat of the music and her eyes scanned the party. 

“Let’s go dance, hm?” Astrid held out her hand for y/n to take, which she gladly did, and let the girl lead her towards the dance floor while sipping her beer. 

It’s about time y/n let loose for once. She always used to get so worked up at parties, knowing Matthew was going to be there and she’d tell the boys she wanted to leave before it ever got any fun. But this time, she wasn’t going to let a boy ruin her fun. She was here now, she looked bomb and was having fun with some of the girls from her class. 

“Y/N!” Lydia’s voice shrieked once more as she joined y/n on the dance floor with a red cup in her hand while the other landed on the back of y/n’s neck, pulling her in to kiss her on the cheek. “You know I love you, right?” 

Y/N glanced over at Bobby, who was keeping an eye out for Lydia from a few feet away. 

“I tried to give her soda,” he shrugged. Y/N rolled her eyes as an amused smile made its way to her cheeks. “It’s your best friend,” he added with his hands raised in defense. 

Y/N reached out and grabbed Bobby’s wrist, pulling him into the group to dance. He was hesitant at first, but eventually gave in and sang along to the song at the top of his lungs while supporting Lydia in a dance. 

Soon, Reggie and Alex had joined the group too, and y/n just knew tonight would be amazing. All she ever needed were her friends, some good music and booze. 

“Having fun, sweetheart?” Y/N’s skin crawled upon hearing the voice and feeling the familiar hands on her waist. That amazing night did not include him. 

She stopped moving all together and stepped away from him, only for him to pull her closer. 

“Let go, Matt!” she yelled and tried to step away again. He twirled her around, leaving his hands firmly on her waist. His bright blue eyes looked down at her with that familiar smile of his playing at his lips. A smile that used to make her heart swell now felt like a violation. 

“Ah, you still remember the sound of my voice,” he cooed. One hand came up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I’ve missed you, y/n. I know we broke up, but I realize now that it was a mistake. We’re perfect for each other…” 

Y/N almost melted as the words reached her ears until she was reminded by the past they shared. Until she was reminded of what he’d done to her and how much it  had hurt. All the pain and sadness suddenly came back to her. She was feeling all of it again. 

She took a step back, finally freeing herself from his claws. She said, “Don’t.” Her eyes were dark and angry, her face stoic. A whole new side of y/n Matthew had never seen before. As he muttered her name, he took a step closer, wanting to hold her in his arms again. “Don’t take another step in my direction,” she said, now a lot firmer than before. “Don’t ever think you can apologize your way back into my arms, Matt.” 

The commotion had grabbed everyone’s attention so much so that even the music had stopped abruptly. Luke got up from leaning against the wall with a girl pinned against it, when he heard y/n’s voice raise, while her other friends perked up too. 

“Please, y/n… You’re the only person I ever loved. You’re the only person I still love.” 

Y/N scoffed at this and shook her head in disbelief while kissing her teeth. “Do you think I’m naive, Matt?” Matt looked up at her, pleadingly. “You really think I’d fall for your lies? After everything we’ve been through? After everything you’ve done to me?” She didn’t care who was watching, she needed to get the monologue she’d thought of in the shower out of her system. It’s now or never. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, y/n… I thought we broke up as friends?” 

A collective gasp fell over the whole entire room, followed by the usual whispers. 

“Yeah, we did. Until I found out you already had your tongue down Sam’s throat the day after. The day after, Matt! I know you were seeing her and so many other girls while we were dating. I hear the whispers too, you know? And I thought, I really thought you were speaking the truth when you told me none of the whispers were true.” Her voice wavered, but she took a deep breath and bit back the tears. She had to stay strong. 

“Fine, the rumors were true, but so what, y/n?! The whispers about you were true, too!” The volume of his voice grows, his tone sharper, firmer. Back when they were dating, y/n got scared whenever the volume of his voice rose, but not this time.   

Y/N shook her head, her tongue gliding over her teeth. “You hear whispers from people around you, saying I slept with Luke when you know damn well that Luke’s like my brother and we don’t look at each other that way. When you hear whispers, you have to scream and you’re screaming at me for being disloyal when the only one who was ever loyal in our relationship was me. I know about whispers, Matt. I saw the way you looked at my sister. At Alexis. At Amber. At Sam. So don’t you dare say I was ever the only one you loved. Because you, Matthew, don’t love anyone or care about anyone but yourself.”

Luke jammed his hands into his pockets as he listened to y/n’s words. Even though they hurt, he couldn’t help but feel proud of her for standing up to her oppressor. He watched as y/n said her final words before running up the stairs, leaving everyone confused and in a humble of even more rumors and whispers. Shaking his head, he followed y/n upstairs, finding her on the balcony at the end of the hallway. 

“So, you finally did it, huh?” His voice made her jump slightly, but she calmed down straight away when realizing it was just him. “Your monologuing in the mirror paid off.” He went to stand next to her, leaning against the concrete enclosure. 

Y/N wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, chuckling. Of course Luke would know she’d been practicing in her mirror. This had been brewing for a while and now that it was finally out in the open, lingering in the air in that living room down there, she didn’t know if she should feel relieved or scared. 

“Hey,” Luke nudged her with his shoulder, shooting a small smile, “I’m proud of you.” 

Her lips curled up into a smile before she wrapped both arms around his bicep, her head resting against his shoulder as she took a deep breath. “I can’t believe I said all of that in there,” she chuckled. 

“Yeah, me neither,” said Luke and he pressed a kiss to her hair before laying his head down on hers. “Did you see Matt’s face though? He was genuinely scared of you just then.”

Y/N scoffed and let go of him, making her way to the small bench in the corner of the small terrace. “I doubt he was scared of me. What he was, was shocked because I never talked back to him whenever we fought.” 

Luke turned around, but kept leaning against the fence, crossing his arms. “I’m glad you finally did. That asshole needed to know that what he was doing wasn’t cool. He needed to know that that’s not how you treat a woman.” 

Y/N raised her eyebrow at him, leaning back on her hands. “And you know how to treat a woman.” Luke wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, so he didn’t answer straight away. He mulled over a good answer as he walked up to her, taking a seat next to her on the bench, their shoulders touching. 

"You know how I’d treat a woman?” he asked. 

“Please, enlighten me,” she replied. 

Luke inhaled deeply before the words poured out of him like he’d been the one monologuing this in front of his mirror. “I would treat her like a goddess. I would build her temples out of words and love and affection. I would make sure she was happy and satisfied before my own needs were fulfilled. I’d write songs to her and she’d be my muse for my music. I would build empires of paragraphs, castles of melodies inspired by her. I would flood her senses with words and make sure she knew all of that was for her. I would build her a whole new world. I’d grant her a universe filled with words and music of love.”    

Y/N let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Woah, Patterson…” Luke shrugged and offered her a shy smile before looking out into the dark night in front of them. “Careful or you’ll make me fall in love with you.” 

“That’s the intention,” he muttered, but his words were overpowered by Lydia’s shrieking. 

“Here you are!” she yelled, then turned her head to someone inside. “Bobbers! I found our love birds!” She turned her head to the two on the bench and smiled. “Come on, you guys! There’s a party downstairs! We need to celebrate y/n’s greatest victory ever!” 

“We can dip if you don’t wanna go back out there,” Luke told her as she stood up. 

“I think I’ll be okay,” she smiled thankfully at him before reaching out her hand for him to take. “Come on, let’s get jiggy!” Luke smirked before gently placing his hand in hers and letting her pull him up to his feet. 

Together, the two of them followed Lydia and Bobby back downstairs to the party, their fingers laced together as they made their way through the crowd. As if on cue, the people started to whisper again as they passed, but y/n didn’t care. She had her best friends with her, she just stood up to her ex-boyfriend, and she found out her best friend was a feminist. There’s no better night than that. She was not going to let it get ruined by a few whispers. 

For the rest of the night, y/n danced and partied with her friends until the sun came up again and it was time to head home. Like every other party night, the six of them ended up in Bobby’s garage. Luke and y/n snuggled up on his couch, Bobby and Lydia in a sleeping bag together, and Reggie and Alex spooning on an air mattress. 

Can’t get more perfect than that.   

 New week, fresh start, people always said. Y/N used to think of it as bullshit, but this time around, she could actually feel it. She felt refreshed, as if a whole new world opened up to her. As if she’d started a new chapter, nay, a new book. One with a happy continuation. One without Matt. 

Monday also meant practice after school. For all of them. The football team had practice out on the field while the sprint relay team ran around it and the cheerleaders practiced on the sidelines. It was the one extracurricular they did together without actually doing it together. 

“Hey, y/n…” a voice she recognized as Sam’s made her look away from the boys on the football field. Her voice sounded ambivalent, which confused y/n as the girl would normally be chirpy and cheery. 

“Hey, Sam. ‘Sup?” y/n gathered her long hair in both hands and tied it up at the top of her head with a bright pink scrunchie. 

“I just--I wanted to apologize for what I did…” she mumbled, her eyes cast on her fidgeting finger. Y/N had never seen her teammate like this. The otherwise lively sport nut now sounded guilty and like the light had been snuffed out of her. “I knew you and Matt were together and I still let him…” she trailed off as though saying the words would make them true. 

Y/N flinched at the mention of the boy’s name. She had hoped it wouldn’t have been brought up and besides the occasional whisper she’d caught during lunch, the objective had been quite successful. Until now. 

“I really don’t wanna talk about him right now, Sam,” y/n muttered, and when she looked up at Sam, she knew she had to say something to ease the girl’s mind. “But this wasn’t your fault. Matt should’ve not tried anything with you. He was the disloyal one, he was the one that cheated on me, not you.” A teasing grin played at y/n’s lips when she continued, “You know, unless you’re gonna tell me now you doped yourself up for practice and are gonna make me lose.” 

Sam worriedly looked up, but when she noticed the grin on y/n’s face, she immediately calmed down and couldn’t help but laugh. 

She shook her head, “No, I’m no cheater.” 

Y/N’s lips curled up into a smile as she grabbed Sam’s hand and squeezed it, letting her know the two are on good terms. Nothing should ever break up the team, especially not a boy. 

“She's talking about you, y/n?” 

Speak of the devil… 

Y/N turned around to where the voice came from, finding a tense Matt in front of her. She should’ve known there was no way of avoiding him all day today. 

“I knew you were lying to me. I knew you and Patterson were a thing and you cheated on me with him.” His voice resounded across the entire area, attracting everyone’s attention with the sudden commotion. 

The football team stopped their exercise half-way, much to the coach’s dismay, and the cheerleaders broke up their human pyramid to find out what was going on. Luke, Bobby and Lydia were the only ones of each team to give incentive to the rest of the team to walk up to the ex-couple fighting. 

“And you just kept on guilting me because I was the only one to be disloyal,” Matt grunted, shaking his head in disbelief. “I heard the whispers, y/n. I heard what happened the other night!” 

Y/N’s eyebrows rose, unimpressed at his outburst. “What did you hear this time, Matthew?” 

“You and Patterson getting dirty on the balcony at Bryan’s party!” he spat, and drops of saliva actually found their way to y/n’s face. She kissed her teeth before wiping her cheek with one forceful finger. 

“Have you learned nothing, asshole?!” y/n shouted. She wasn’t going to keep her cool anymore. Ever since Friday, she learned that she was able to stand up to herself, no matter how scary Matt could get. 

She stepped forward, erasing the space between the two as they stood chest-to-chest. Seeing this, Luke halted and averted his eyes. He thought this situation would actually give him a hand at finally asking y/n out for real, but it seemed like the two were about to make up. 

“Didn’t you learn about whispers being just that, whispers? Nothing happened between Luke and me. Not when we were dating, not at Alexis’ party. And the fact that you even dare to insinuate I would be capable of cheating just shows once more that you don’t know me and you don’t care about me.” She pressed her index finger to his chest harshly. “You are a selfish, self-indulgent prick who doesn’t deserve all the wonderful women that have thrown themselves at you. You don’t deserve anything and--” y/n flinched as she watched his hand come up and two hands pulled her away from Matt. 

“Patterson, stay out of this,” Matt growled. Y/N opened her eyes at the mention of her best friend’s name, finding him between her and her ex now. As she turned her head, Bobby was standing behind her, his hands on her shoulder. 

Matt turned back to Y/N, the growl persistent on his face. “No,” Luke said, capturing Matt’s attention once more. 

“No?” His voice was abrasive, a tone y/n had gotten used to over the years. 

“No,” Luke repeated. He glanced back at y/n before jamming his hands into his trousers and looking at Matt again. Though Luke was a lot smaller than the broad, tall teenager in front of him, his confidence was twice the size of the other footballer. “Technically, you’re pinning me down as a home wrecker, so you pretty much pulled me into this yourself.” 

Y/N raised her eyebrows at the new-found confidence. Luke was cocky and flirty around girls, but he’d never been this overly confident version of himself towards his teammates. It was refreshing to see this entirely different side from her best friend. 

“Well, yeah, because she clearly did cheat on me with you. Why else would you guys be fooling around after her little outburst to me?” The overconfidence Matt normally carried had now washed away. He hadn’t seen this side of the quarterback yet either. 

Luke let out an airy laugh, and retorted, “Yeah, well, see, that’s where you’re wrong.” He tilted his head ever so slightly, his green eyes looking up at the big, burly footballer. “There’s this misconception about our relationship, you see? Y/N and I are the best of friends, and I get it we’d look super hot together as a couple, but the sad truth is -- well, sad for me -- that Y/N has always been too busy being loyal to an asshole like you to see that. So, despite popular belief, y/n and I are just the best of friends and she deserves the world, more even, she deserves a whole-ass new universe. Which is something you can’t give her.” 

Y/N stared at her best friend in awe. She had never seen this side of him but she couldn’t say she disliked it. In fact, there was this attractiveness about an overconfident Luke defending her against her ex-boyfriend. And reciting the words in her mind, she realized something she hadn’t seen before. Luke was in love with her and he’d tried to tell her so many times before, but she took it as harmless flirting. 

Moreover, y/n realized she was in love with her best friend too. 

“But you, Matthew McSomething,” y/n chuckled at Luke’s name dig at the Scottish boy, especially with the added bonus of an attempt at a Scottish accent, “You are too self-indulgent to even give her a fraction of a world. So, unless you can actually give her more than that, stay away from her…” 

“Or what?” Matt snarled. 

“I’ll put you on the bench for the rest of the season. And we all know you can only get the girls when you’re on the field, don’t we?” 

Matt’s eyes widened at Luke’s words as the panic set in. Matthew McGregor was nothing on the bench. Even worse, he was less than nothing. On the bench, he’d get associated with Bruce Frederickson, coach’s nephew who was just there because he was family and not because he was actually good at football. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Luke murmured and then turned to the coach, who, too, had joined in the drama. “I think we can hit the showers now, can’t we, coach?” The tall man nodded his head slowly, unsure about what had just happened to his star player. He’d only ever got this confident on the field, never off. Even the coach knew that. 

As all teams dispersed, y/n grabbed a hold of her favorite cheerleader’s arm, pulling her aside while Luke and Bobby walked away. They didn’t even notice y/n’s panicked rush. 

“Lyds, I think I’m in love with my best friend,” she whispered. Her eyes were wide, her tone hurried and filled with panic. The strawberry blonde’s lips curled up into a grin as she patted her best friend’s hair. 

“Oh, we know, sweetie…” she said, confusing y/n even more, “It’s about time you admitted it.” Y/N rolled her eyes and shook her head as she anxiously played around with the friendship bracelet around Lydia’s wrist. 

“I’ve been dreaming about my knight in shining armour since I was ten, Lyds. I never thought I would find it in my best friend. My best friend, Lydia!” The girl let out an endeared laugh as she tucked a flyaway behind the other girl’s ear. 

“I know, sweetie.” Her hand landed on y/n’s cheek and her thumb gently swiped across the skin. “Now, go! Tell him!” 

“Yeah! Right! Right!” she vigorously nodded her head, but she didn’t move a muscle. 

“Y/N… You’re gonna have to move if you wanna go and talk to him.” 

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out, so she shut it again. “Right, yeah…” she swallowed a lump as the fear sank in. She had never had to tell her best friend she had feelings for him. All of this was new to her. How does one even confess that? 

“Sweetie, you can do this, okay? Just follow your gut.” Lydia’s tone was stern, but it was exactly what y/n needed to hear. “Like how you don’t calculate your moves on the track, but you just go! Like Gail Devers!” The mention of y/n’s absolute favorite athlete made her look up. 

“Gail Devers was actually very meticulous,” she corrected her best friend’s metaphor.

Lydia deadpanned, “Not the point, y/l/n.” She placed  her hands on y/n’s shoulders and turned her around, pushing her towards the field. “Now go! Shoo!” She waved her hands in a dismissive manner, and after one more hurried look, y/n sprinted across the field. “Atta girl!” she heard Lydia yell before making her way into the school, through corridors until she reached the boy’s locker room where Bobby had just walked out of.  

The boy glanced at her, and when he realized what she was there for, he nodded his head towards the closed door, giving her permission to go inside. He said, “He’s the last one in.” 

Y/N kissed Bobby on the cheek before opening the door. She was met with the stench of sweat and deodorant, but it didn’t phase her. Not today. The girl was on a mission. 

She weaved through the rows of lockers until she found him standing near a bench, zipping up his trusty black jeans, shirtless. Her eyes scanned his entire physique from head to to toe until she realized she was actually checking out her best friend in a way she hadn’t done before.

“Y/N?”  

For a second, she tried to calculate her next move, but then decided to throw it all overboard, and instead marched up to him. She grabbed his face with both hands and brought him down to meet her lips. His breath hitched in his throat before melting into the kiss and bringing his hands up to her waist, pulling her closer into him. 

“Give me that whole-ass universe,” she muttered as they pulled away to come up for air. Luke huffed, a relieved smile pulling at his lips. This was what he’d been dreaming of for so long; kissing her, holding her, cherishing her. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” he replied before kissing her again. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for ages,” he added, his words disappearing into her mouth.  

“Oh, I know.” 

With the same words their friendship started, started a whole new chapter in their lives and their relationship. Everything would change now, but neither of them cared. They were granted a whole new universe. 

*

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[backtothefanfiction]

WHAT BENNY DOESN'T KNOW | Chapter 6

A TRIPLE FRONTIER STORY

Summary: Things get heated on the mountainside then five months later Santiago knocks on your door asking for a favour.

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 3997

A/N- Hey guys thank you so much for your love on this series, after the heaviness of the last chapter this one is more story development for how we ended up at chapter 1. It's split into three parts; the boys interaction on the side of the mountain, Santiago coming to your flat to ask for a favour and you meeting with Frankie in a diner to collect on that favour for Santi. This is the second to last chapter and I am currently working on the final chapter so we can end this story and Friday on a high! In the meantime I hope you enjoy.

PART SIX | TRIPLE FRONTIER

Without you, the mission had become a shit show. Five days full of reckless testosterone clouded decisions that had lead to them trekking across the Andes, millions of dollars literally being lost over the side of a cliff, three different gunshot wounds between the group and multiple dead bodies; including Tom's. The sun had almost fully set now, just a dull hazy glow on the horizon as Santiago, Will and Frankie lay back against the bags of money, waiting for the younger Miller to return. The tension was thick between them and not just because of the multiple fuck ups or the fact they had lost a friend.

Each one of them had brought up your name at some point during this trip, wondering if things would have been different if you had been there. A strong team of six instead of five. Santiago had watched Frankie subtly flinch, every time he heard your name and although he himself wished you had been there, he could clearly see now why you had said no. He still didn't completely know what had happened between you and Frankie other than what he found out that one night in Italy; but he knew if you had been on this mission with them right now, the team would be even weaker, not stronger.

“I'm gonna say something. Are you listening?” Frankie's voice said strongly, breaking the stoic silence that had befallen the three men since Benny had left their company.

“Yeah.” Santiago murmured, acknowledging the statement.

“We gotta get back on our game.” Frankie said. “Enough of this. It stops now. You Understand?”

“Copy that.” Santiago replied.

Frankie had ended up spending more time than he thought he would thinking about you these last few days. Even with everything that had happened between the two of you, it felt odd to him doing a job like this without you. Over the years and countless missions you had all worked together, you had become a partner to him. His co-pilot, the one who always had his six. The absence of you only served to remind him of how fucked up things were between you now. He felt himself tense anytime one of the boys said your name. He spoke with a venom, anytime he was dragged into a conversation about you. That was until he lost a mule over the side of the mountain.

The rocks had given way bellow the animals feet and he had watched helplessly as it fell to its death, bags of money exploding as they hit rocks. His own mortality truly hit him then. His mind raced to images of his daughter and Laura but then they turned to you and that's where they stayed. Tom's death a day later had only reinforced those thoughts more. If he died on this godforsaken mountain before he had a chance to talk to you and sort everything out, it would be the biggest regret of his life. He needed them all to get back on their A game. He needed to get back to you.

“Why did she say no to the job?” Will's question permeated the silence. It was a question that had been on his mind since the very beginning and one Santiago had tried to avoid and work around the whole mission. Santiago remained quiet, trying to work out the best way to respond.

“Because of me.” Frankie's confession rang out. Will sat up then, looking at Frankie confused, silently asking him to elaborate. Santiago's gaze had also turned to Frankie, but it was a soft look, one of pride that his friend wanted to face up to his demons instead of run from them. Frankie's look back to Santiago was a desperate cry for help. Although he knew they all needed to get this out in the open so they could work better as a team, he also was struggling with how to say it.

“He was sleeping with her.” Santiago tried to say as gently as he could. Although he knew the relationship between you and Frankie had been fucked up, he also knew you were both hopelessly in love with one another, which was what had made things between you so much more complicated.

“Wait. What?” Will stuttered out in shock. “When?”

“About 11 months ago.” Frankie quietly confessed. Will gave Frankie a hard look as he realised he was telling him he had cheated on his partner with you. “Look, I know.” Frankie said in response to the stare, “It wasn't exactly my finest moment.”

“How long for?” Will questioned.

“A couple of months. She broke things off when she found out Laura was pregnant. That's why she took that job in Italy.” Santiago's mind raced as he remembered back to the night he spent with you in Italy, his head dropping sheepishly. He thought if he kept his head low, he'd get away with not having the Italy conversation with Frankie but he was wrong. Frankie had recognised the look on Pope's face and the fact his was currently staring away from them at the rock in front of him, just told him how guilty his friend felt.

Will had watched the exchange, analysing the looks between the two men before him. “What happened in Italy?” he asked, suspecting there was something about your time over seas that they were both privy to and hiding from him.

“Why were you in Italy with her Pope?” Frankie doubled down.

“I went to her first to talk about the job.” Santiago said, only giving half the truth. Frankie fixed him with a hard look, forcing him to elaborate. He wanted to know how that fucking phone call had come about. “Look she wasn't answering my messages so I got on a plane, went over there and-” his sentence hung awkwardly in the air a moment as he tried to decide how to carry on. “Look, I thought that if I got rid of the guy she would be free to come back with me and do the job, but she got mad at me.” Frankie and Will listened intensely as Santiago continued to babble. “Look I did some things and she said some shit to get back at me. Look man I didn't know.” He looked desperately to Frankie.

“But even after you did find out you still fucked her, right?” Frankie's voice bit back. It was more of a statement than a question.

“I'm sorry man, but you should have seen her face.” Santiago felt his cock twitch just at the memory alone. “She freaking begged me Fish.” Santi's voice pleaded, trying to get his friend to understand. Will scoffed in disbelief over the conversation they were having. “Hey.” Santiago said rounding on him, “You would have done exactly the same thing if you were there. You're just bitter because you only got to fuck her the once.”

“HEY!” Frankie's voice cut across Pope.

“No, you don't get to act like you're her knight in shining armour right now and defend her honour, not when you used her like you did.” Santiago snapped back at Frankie.

“I didn't use her.” Frankie attempted to defend himself.

“You fucking snorted coke off her body, fucked her, then went back home to continue playing house with your actual girlfriend. If that's not using her-”

“I told her I fucking loved her and that I wanted to leave Laura, that I was gonna get clean for her and she fucking cut and run on me man.” There was silence as the weight of Frankie's statement hung in the air between them. When Frankie spoke again, breaking the silence, his voice was softer, curious. “Did you make her?” He didn't want to ask but he needed to know. The 60 second phone call had played continuously on a loop around his head ever since it had happened, the words haunting him.

“Yes.” Santiago's voice was timid and he struggled to look at his friend. “If it helps, she really tried to fight it man. I think she liked that it had been your thing.”

“What?” Will questioned, confused by the ambiguous conversation his friends were having in front of him. “What did you make her do?” His voice was worried, protective. Both Frankie and Santiago struggled to meet Will's eyes. “What did you make her do?” he asked again his voice demanding an answer.

“I'm sorry man.” Santiago said.

“He made her squirt.” Frankie said at the same time. Will's expression was one of reserved surprise.

“Wait you both?” Will asked, looking for clarity.

“Yeah.” Santiago said. There was a silence again as the information set in.

Something Santiago had said was weighing on Frankie. “What do you mean she begged you?” Frankie asked him timidly.

“She's been torturing herself man. She feels so guilty about everything that happened, she's just looking for a way she can live with herself.”

“What did you do?” Frankie asked, he was scared of the answer but wanted to know, his own form of punishment.

“Tied her to the bed and edged her to within an inch of her life.” Santiago's statement was slightly rushed and guilty. Will fought to remain silent as he began to picture the scene in his head.

“Did it help? Did it make her feel better afterwards?” Frankie continued to question.

“She's in love with you man.” Santiago said softly. “Those feelings aren't just gonna go away. She's gonna be carrying them around with her for the rest of her life. She's always gonna be stuck wondering what would have happened if things were different. Wondering if there ever would have been a way for you guys.” Santiago's statement left everyone silent once more. None of them brought it up again, but they couldn't stop thinking about it.

---------------------

It had been 5 months since you had come home from Italy. 5 months since the boys came back from their trip to South America. Will and Ben had escorted Tom's body back to the states and broken the news to Molly. They stayed with her as she broke the news to her girls and made a point of being there for them whenever they needed.

For 5 months, Will and Benny were the only company outside your family that you saw, but even then you didn't see them as often. None of you met up as a group again. You hadn't even heard from Santiago, that was until he showed up on your doorstep late one Saturday afternoon. “Hey Querida, I need your help.”

You reluctantly let him in, ushering him inside your small apartment. “What do you want Santi?” you asked as you continued to hover near the front door.

“I've got this job-”

“Nope, no way.” you quickly cut in. “After what happened in South America, I don't think so. Besides I thought that was supposed to be your last job. You said you were retiring.” you folded your arms across your chest defensively.

“I know, I know. But this isn't like that job.”

“Are you determined to burn every friendship you've ever had?” you spat at him, a warning to choose his next words very carefully. Will and Benny had told you everything when they got home. Both of them were shells of the men they once were, it almost pained you to be around.

Santiago collapsed onto the sofa, his head hung in his hands. “I know I fucked up.” he said slowly. “It was a shit job. I wanted to be able to just let it go and move on but I can't. I can't let that be the last job I did. The last thing that defines my career for me.” You softened at the broken man's words.

“What's the job?” you tentatively asked him.

“Corrupt cop.” he said, finally lifting his head from his hands.

“What?” you questioned slightly shocked. You had not been expecting that but you were immediately invested and Santiago knew it.

“He's based along the border between Columbia and Brazil. Been taking bribes and working with the cartels down there for years. With Lorea out of the way he's kind of stepped up to the plate behind the scenes, but he's nothing without his money.”

“So it's just getting the money, then getting back out.”

“Yes.”

“I'm assuming because he's a corrupt cop this is all gonna be done off the books.”

“That's why I need the team. The whole team.”

“They'll never go for it. Not if it's coming from you.” Santi looked at you then, his eyes pleading. You could read his mind without having him say it. “No.”

“They'll do it for you.” he said getting up.

“No, I'm not lying to them.”

“Please.” he said placing his hands on your arms. His eyes were desperate, “I need this.” You couldn't help but look at him with pity. He was far from the man who had teased you in Italy just a few months back. You could see the effects of his last failed mission clear on his face and his body. The dark circles under his eyes from nights of restless sleep. The extra patches of grey scattered amongst his dark curls. All he wanted was one last good job so he could rest in peace and think back on the glory days with fondness. He needed an excuse to make things right with his friends.

“Fine.” you reluctantly agreed. “But if they are gonna believe this is my job, you are gonna have to really let me take charge of this. You gotta give me everything you know.”

------------------

Getting Will and Benny to agree had been easy. You had brought it up over beers one Sunday afternoon. They hated corrupt cops as much as you and Santi and although they had been a little apprehensive when you told them Santiago was also going to be on the mission, they still agreed to go anyway for you. Frankie on the other hand was probably going to be a little trickier.

You asked him to meet you at a local diner on a Saturday morning. The sun was streaming through the windows onto your little booth. You couldn't tell if it was just the heat from the sun, shining through the glass making you feel like you were in a green house or just your anxiety at seeing Frankie for the first time since he had told you he loved you, but you felt like you were suffocating. You were contemplating abandoning this whole thing and bolting for the door when he finally walked in, the little bell ringing out, drawing your focus to him.

He looked good. He was wearing his favourite t-shirt, an unbuttoned shirt thrown over the top, the sleeves of which were rolled up, showing off his muscular arms. You became aware you were staring and quickly dropped your eyes to the half full cup of coffee, that now sat cold in your hands in front of you.

“Hey.” he said as he approached the table. You looked up at him, your nerves clear on your face.

“Hey.” your voice came out unsure. You wished you could just put on a fake smile and pretend like everything was okay, but the guilt monster that had grown attached to you since you last saw each other wouldn't let you.

He shuffled into the booth across from you as a waitress came over with a pot of coffee. You eagerly held out your own mug for a top up while Frankie flipped over the cup in front of him. “A stack of blueberry pancakes and a side of bacon?” the young girl questioned Frankie as she poured coffee into his cup.

“Actually no, I already ate.” he replied shooting her a forced half smile.

“Very well.” the younger girl said. “Anything for yourself sweetie?” she turned to ask you.

“Umm, no thank you, the coffee's fine.” you said, raising the cup in your hand as you said it.

“Very well then.” the waitress said with an exaggerated smile.

“Thanks Candace.” Frankie said as she walked away.

“Candace? Blueberry pancakes and bacon?” you questioned Frankie once she was out of earshot.

“Yeah. I got in the habit of coming in after early NA meetings.” he told you, his fingers twisting the mug of coffee in his hands as he waited on your response.

“You look good Frankie.” you said, finally being able to find a smile for him. His eyes met yours, they were hopeful, soft. It made you wonder what had happened to him in South America that had him come out of the trip looking far less scathed than the others. You assumed it had something to do with coming back alive for his little girl, a reminder to live the best life he could with her.

“Thank you.” he said. “You look good too.” you could tell by the way he said it that he meant it, even if you didn't feel like it. “So what was it you wanted to talk about?”

Frankie had smiled fondly when your name had popped up on his phone asking him to meet you. After everything that had happened in South America he had been eager to contact you but he had a few things he needed to deal with first.

He had broken things off with Laura as soon as he'd gotten home. They had sat down and had a long conversation, Frankie coming clean about all of it. He expected her to be furious, to scream the house down, throw all of his stuff out onto the front lawn and tell him he couldn't see their daughter ever again; but she surprised him when she told him she had known he was in love with you all along. He moved into the spare bedroom while he looked for a place of his own and made an effort to regularly talk and work out the situation. He was so grateful when she told him he could see Lilah as often as he wanted and he ended up spending a lot of his free time at the house with her, not wanting to miss a single moment as she continued to grow.

“I know after the shit show that was Santiago's job you'll probably want to say no, but I need your help on a job. They other guys are already in, I just need my pilot, my mission partner.” you said trying to lay it on thick.

“I'm in.”

He had said it without hesitation. He'd do anything for you, even if it meant trekking across the Andes again. “Wait, you don't want me to tell you what the job is?”

“It doesn't matter. You need me, I'm all in.” he said leaning back into the booth. “Besides if you've gotten the other guys to agree...” he left the statement open as he brought his coffee cup up to his lips. A silence fell between the two of you. Now you had gotten out all you had to say, you didn't know how to proceed in conversation.

“How old is she now?” you found yourself asking. It was more torturing yourself actually.

“Just over 7 months.” he replied. He held up a finger to you, instructing you to wait as he reached into his pocket for his wallet. He pulled out a small photo of her that was tucked into one of the slots, handing it across the table to you.

You tried to keep your fingers steady as you looked at the picture. She was beautiful and definitely Frankie's kid. “She has your eyes.” you found yourself saying, softening at the image of the little girl who had changed everything.

You couldn't help but wonder, if things had been different, if you and Frankie had gotten together all those years ago. Would you have your own baby by now? Would they have inherited his eyes like this little girl in the picture had, or would they have gotten yours? Then you wondered, if you hadn't run away when Frankie had told you about her, would you have been able to stick around and love her? To be her second mom and raise her with Frankie and Laura.

You quickly handed the photo back, no longer able to look at it or deal with the thoughts that were now swimming around your head. “Yeah, I'm just grateful she didn't get my nose.” Frankie said as he slotted the photo back into his wallet with a fond smile.

“Is she crawling yet?” you asked.

“Oh that girl is such an over achiever.” he chuckled fondly. “She was trying to stand at 3 months, even though her little legs were no where near ready for that. You'd have to fight to get her to relax them to feed.” You couldn't help but smile at the image of Frankie trying to wrestle a fussy baby to sit in his arms properly so he could feed her.

The way he looked at you changed then, like he was sad you hadn't been there, like he had really wanted you to be there with him. He had. There had been so many late nights he'd spent up with his little girl in his arms, wishing you were there. Wishing that she had been yours. He was about to open his mouth and try to tell you everything he had wanted to say since being on that mountain, but you became distracted when your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up, telling you both you had a text message from Santiago.

You reached for the phone and Frankie's chest sagged, it felt like a hole had just opened up in his chest and was suddenly being filled with all his self doubt. 'He'd waited too long. You and Santiago were probably a thing now.' were the main two thoughts that began echoing through his head. “I'm really sorry, I've got to head off.” you said, rooting around in your bag for your purse so you could pay for your coffee.

“Oh okay.” Frankie said back, slightly defeated.

“Umm, I'll send you over all the information for the job.” you said quickly as you climbed out of the booth while trying to send a quick reply to Santiago to let him know you were on your way.

“Yeah of course.” Frankie said also getting up, to see you off properly.

His action caught you off-guard and you almost walked into his chest as you looked up from the phone in your hand. You both froze. You softened as you looked up into his eyes, then slowly let them wander down to his lips. You really wished you could lean forward and kiss him right now. You came to your senses, clearing your throat and taking a step backwards, blushing.

“It was great to see you Frankie.” you quickly said. “Oh and thank you for saying yes to the job.”

“Uh yeah, no problem.” he said, hooking his fingers into his pockets. He wanted to touch you, to hug you or something, anything, but the way you had stepped back from him, made him feel like he couldn't. You both stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

You felt your phone buzz in your hand. You looked down at it, another message from Santiago. “Umm, I've got to go.” your voice was barely above a whisper. Before you realised you had done it, you leant forward and placed a light kiss on Frankie's cheek. You felt the corner of his mouth turn upwards as he began to smile, but you couldn't bring yourself to look. You knew that if you did look, it would remind you of everything you missed out on with him. Instead you did the same thing as you did last time you were with him, you walked away and you didn't look back.

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