#i am tired of this app all the time because the hatred on here can be so full of vitriol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hansolmates · 4 years ago

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here comes the bride, all dressed in pride

summary; You and your cousin Doyeon have had beef with each other since the sandbox. When she plucks the last straw, you decide to end your long-simmering fight by claiming that you and her ex—Jeon Jungkook, are now boyfriend and girlfriend pairing; jungkook x reader (f) genre/warnings; fake dating!au, fluff, crack, mentions of cheating, lang, alcohol, mc eats meat, tw sexual harassment, toxic family, dick talk, making out, if u have that one family member that pulls bs on you constantly this is it, this fic is for all the people who have a huge ass family who wont leave them alone w.c; 17.3k a/n: my second fic for gcn’s 23 birthday project! the fact that wedding szn zoomed by us like that... and so bc im sad that so many weddings had to be postponed this fic was born! a huge thank u to vivi @eerieedits / @chillingtae for creating this BEAUTIFUL fic banner and separator pls check vivi out to make your fics all purty

prompts used: “You’ve always been beautiful to me, don’t you know that?” and “I never knew love could be like this, feel like this.”

if you enjoyed this pls consider giving a like and a share💕💕

Doyeon likes to call Jungkook, “the one who got away.”

You like to call Doyeon, “the one who drove him away.”

In secret, of course. In fact, the only person who knows how much you loathe Doyeon and her behavior is your father. And all your co-workers. And your boss. And your boss’ ex-husband.

And Jeon Jungkook, but of course you haven’t seen the man in two years and back then he was far too polite to address his concerns of your hatred of his then-girlfriend.

Okay, so everyone and their mother knows how much you don’t like your cousin. Kim Doyeon and you have had beef since the sandbox, and for whatever reason is always out to one-up you. A strange competitive nature in everything, academics, family, and even boys. The sick, twisted part of you has come to enjoy it. While you’re not a fighter as devout as Doyeon is, you have your own callous tendencies farmed from the seeds Doyeon has planted in your brain. She gives you a comment? You can’t help but throw one back. Since you’re a painfully mature soul you don’t have any mortal enemies as far as you know, Doyeon is the perfect amount of hot water to keep you on your toes.

“I’m really sorry that you couldn’t be a bridesmaid,” Doyeon cooes next to you, swirling her champagne glass with a too-jutted pout, “but if I did there’d be an odd number of pairings and you’re a little too old to be walking as a bridesmaid, am I right?”

Your nails. Are digging. Through your dress. Alas, you’re in public and you have class. Doyeon smiles at you with all teeth, reminding you of the Beldam from Coraline. Aside from that she looks absolutely stunning in that Lirika Matoshi strawberry dress that has her Instagram aching with likes and love from her baseless followers.

“I don’t know,” you reply lightly, leaning back in your seat, “I mean, if Yoojung and Rena can be bridesmaids and they’re three years older than me, wouldn’t I make the cut? It’s okay to be honest and say you just didn’t want me in the bridal party.”

Doyeon laughs, slaps your thigh like you told her the most hilarious joke in the world. Anyone passing by would think you’re best friends. You laugh too, incredulous at the amount of power she thinks she holds.

“Nice party,” you tack on, surveying the room. It’s filled with pastels and beiges, bright and airy. It’s Parisian themed, and while you’re not a fan of theming cultures, you can’t deny that you’re loving the infinite supply of macarons.

“Oh, yes. This is just a taste of the real wedding,” she laces her fingers together, as if she thinks she’s living an Elizibethean love story, “speaking of, you put on your RSVP that you’re bringing a plus one. Am I allowed to know who’s the unlucky date?”

“As if you care.”

“I care if you’re bringing Jimin. That tiny thing nearly gave Aunt Lillian a heart attack when he gave a striptease at Yoongi’s graduation party.”

You smirk softly at the bold memory. That was the plan.

Doyeon sighs dramatically, crossing her legs and popping out a cherry red heel. She plays with the back on the balls of her feet, letting the little pearly rhinestones glisten in the candlelight, “I should really commend you, cousin,” she drawls, “I mean, how kind of you to be so charitable and give your dopey friends a chance to have fun. After all, I’m sure it is difficult for someone like you to find a date.”

It’s no surprise as to how you end up with a date at any family formal gathering. You say you bring a plus one, and then between Jimin, Taehyung and Hoseok. The three of them draw straws as to who gets to gorge on free alcohol and food for that night.

“Difficult?” you arch a brow, “I get plenty of dates.”

Doyeon giggles. She must be feeling extra vindictive today, high on her impending marriage and the taste of bubbly champagne. “By taking turns with those three? You gotta be kidding me,” she snorts, tipping back her crystal, “please y/n. Don’t get so defensive because I’m getting married first. Your time will come. That is, if you stop dicking around with your friends.”

Normally you’d smother any attempt at Doyeon to call out your friends, but now she’s just done that and insulted your ability to get some, and you are livid.

“Actually,” you quip sharply, “I’ve been dating someone. It’s been a couple months, actually.”

“Oh?” Doyeon’s genuinely interested, face falling slightly, “you’ve never mentioned anyone, I don’t see anyone on your social media.”

“Yeah well,” you feign sympathy, pressing your lips together and tilting your head accordingly, “I’ve had to keep it private for a couple of reasons.”

“What, is he ugly or something?” she chuckles, “but really, who’s the person who has the misfortune of being in a committed relationship with you?”

Maybe it’s because Doyeon’s right, the both of you are too old. The two of you have been running around each other for years, with no end in sight. Maybe, the words that linger on the tip of your tongue will be the final nail in the coffin.

“Jeon Jungkook,” you state proudly, clear as day. “Jungkook and I have been dating for three months.”

And you pick up the vanilla macaron that sits innocently on your plate, ravishing it up like it contained all the tension in your table. Between you and Doyeon’s bubble, you could hear a pin drop.

“Jungkook?” her smile is concrete-solid, “my Jungkook?”

“My Jungkook,” you correct, giving her a puppy-eyed look, “I’m really sorry I never told you. I mean, is there ever a right time to tell your cousin they’re dating their ex-boyfriend?” you laugh, either to lighten the mood or because you love the way Doyeon pinches her face, you don’t know.

“How did you two even meet?”

“We reconnected through Seokjin. You know how the two of them play Starcraft together, I just ended up joining the call and he was so funny and nice. We just sorta… felt it.” Doyeon nods like a slow bobblehead, still comprehending in her pea-sized brain, “I just hope it isn’t too awkward. I know it’s been awhile but, if you really don’t want Jungkook to come I can always take Hoseok or something.”

“No, it’s fine,” Doyeon says a little too quickly, masking on her picture-perfect smile. “I’m with Namjoon now, and I’m totally happy. Water under the bridge, it’ll be totally fine.”

“Really?” your eyes practically sparkle, thankful for the amount of glitter and highlighter you’ve dumped on your face today, “I really appreciate it, Yeonie.”

And she quickly downs her champagne glass, and gets up from her seat. It’s haunting, the way she gets up, pink tulle billowing around her ankles. “I have to attend to the other guests,” she says.

“Of course,” you raise your glass.

“But, be careful,” she gives you a little smile, one filled with a last-ditch attempt at a jab, “Jungkook, he’s a little hard to deal with.”

“Oh don’t worry. I know how to deal with Jungkook’s hardness,” you wink, and Doyeon’s face falls like a ton of bricks.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” you shrug loftily, “that’s what I meant, though.”

And you don’t bother watching Doyeon stomp off the metaphorical stage, double fisting two new glasses of champagne from an awaiting butler as she finds some other poor guest to pick on. Now, the matter of securing your date. Conveniently so, the most important man in the room is walking your way, and you manage to snag his tie just as he passes your table.

“Ow—ow! I’m choking!” Seokjin grabs, nearly throwing his tall body onto your lap, hands grappling to release the tension on his neck. “Leave me alone, woman! I just wanted to get some chicken tenders!”

“Jin,” you say sweetly, opening his blazer to retrieve his phone, “I need Jeon’s number, now.”

“Jungkook?” your favorite cousin pales, eyes widening as you take out your phone of your own, copying down the digits, “what did you do?”

“Don’t ask questions.”

Seokjin says your name again, firmer. “You’re playing with fire.”

“It’ll be fine, it’s the last time,” you quell, already knowing how much Seokjin hates being in the middle of your fights. Once you’ve secured the phone number, you place Seokjin’s phone back into his pocket, patting his breast. “Thank you. You know you’re my favorite cousin, you know that?”

He grumbles a “damn right I am” before stomping away, resuming his race for his chicken tenders.

You: hey jeon it’s y/n. I see you’re doing great, i saw on instagram that you released your first app w/yoongi! Totally amazing, been playing for weeks, really upset that i can’t get past the flaming frog boss :((

You: Feel free to ignore this, i won’t blame you if you do. Im at doyeon’s rehearsal dinner, and she basically snubbed my friends and said i couldn’t get some prime dick even though im?? Me??? Anyway, im tired of her shit so im gonna throw it back at her, one last time before she ties the knot. I told her you and i have been dating, and im bringing you as my date to her wedding. Really sorry, the demons took over my brain and made the worst and best comeback of my life. So… if you’re up for being the hottest couple on the floor in three weeks and showing how madly in love we are, please text me back? Or not. You might think this family is crazy and i accept partial responsibility.

You: I’ll buy u every meal for every practice date we have if u agree.💕💕💕

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: thanks, i appreciate that. To defeat the frog boss, go back to the coconut cave and find the garnet garter. It absorbs his fire and u can easily defeat froggo w any level 15 weapon

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: and as for the real reason u texted me. Im in. let’s get pork belly tomorrow.

Two years ago, you were surprised that Doyeon could manage to snag a man as fine as Jeon Jungkook. Also unsurprised, because Doyeon is gorgeous and could snag any man she wanted, and has snagged every man she wanted.

Jungkook was different though. He had an air of innocence to him. He loved her, a little too much to be safe. Your heart would betray you every time you would find him at a family gathering, making her plate and counting the calories she so meticulously measured. How can someone so sweet be with someone like Doyeon?

Your heart ached for Jungkook when they broke up a year later. From what you heard, Doyeon was Jungkook’s first serious girlfriend. And then you wanted to rip your heart out a week later when you caught Doyeon smooching with her favorite graduate professor Kim Namjoon, wanting to erase any possibility you’d have at love. At that time, you never wanted to feel the pain you imagined Jungkook was going through.

“Y/n! Over here!” you’re a little taken aback at how much has not changed in Jungkook. His eyes still sparkle like fresh dew, his smile is still pearly white and infectious. He’s even early, snagging a table at his favorite barbeque place and waiting for you as if he is the one organizing your first date.

At the same time, there’s so much that’s changed about him. He’s confident, even going so far as to walk over to you and slip your jacket and purse in his grasp like a gentleman. He leads you by putting a hand lightly at the small of your back, making you feel impossibly small in comparison to his Dorito-shaped body, broad shoulders and a deliciously trim waist.

“How was the walk over?”

“Not too bad,” the conversation is casual, easy. You wipe the sweat off your forehead with a napkin. “Could use a little exercise now and again. I did eat a whole tray of macarons at that rehearsal dinner.”

Jungkook laughs from his belly, causing you to smile. “Nonsense. You look great, by the way,” you don’t mind it, actually, you enjoy it when his eyes rake over your body. After all, he’s now your boyfriend and he needs to get familiar with all the important bits. He leans his arms forward, bracing him against the wooden table so his face is closer to yours.

“You’re not doing too bad yourself,” your eyes gloss over the veins and intricate tattoos that paint his muscled upper half. Your smile morphs into a smirk, letting him know you’re enjoying the view just as well as he is.

And as soon as the tension sparks, it ends just as fast when your waiter comes up to light your grill.

“So,” Jungkook wastes no time in decorating your stove, making sure to add all the appropriate aromatics and infusions to season your lunch, “do you know why Doyeon and I broke up?”

“Cheated on you with Namjoon, I assume,” you keep your eyes trained on the darkening meat.

Jungkook slips a piece of meat in his mouth. Any expression of pain (whether it be from Doyeon or the barely cooked meat) doesn’t reveal itself as he stops to take a sip of water. “Who else knows?”

“Just me and Seokjin. The family loved you too much and Doyeon made up some sob story about how you two were going different life paths.”

He chuckles to himself, taking great care in flipping the meat. “I really was a fool in love, wasn’t I?”

“It… was mildly cute.”

“Tell me the truth, you have no reason not to.”

“Okay, you made me want to vomit rainbows and glitter every time I saw you.”

The two of you laugh, faces crinkling shamelessly as the two of you busy yourselves with setting up the table. Most of the food is done and the aroma of fresh onions wafts around your grill. As you place chopsticks on his side of the table, you think about all the times Jungkook made it abundantly clear how much he loved Doyeon: the love letters tucked into her purse, 100 day anniversaries, even just a simple Americano for her in the morning.

“Is that why you never hung out with us?”

“No,” you reply lightly, “Doyeon made it clear that I shouldn’t talk to you.”

Jungkook frowns, “You really don’t like each other, do you.”

You shrug, “Just always been like that,” you quirk a smile when Jungkook places the freshly cooked meat on top of your rice before serving himself.

“So what’s the plan?”

“We go to the wedding, make out a little, get Doyeon boiling. Even if she’s not interested in you, she’d still be upset knowing we are together.”

“And why is that?”

“Because it’s me,” you grin into your glass, staring at a water-stained Jungkook through the blue tinted glass. “And all you have to do, is enjoy your night and look pretty.”

His eyes crinkle, chopsticks pressing between his lips. “You think I look pretty?”

With a roll of eyes you don’t respond, preferring to dig your chopsticks in your rice. No need to inflate Jungkook’s ego too soon.

Pinning the main theme of your hangout to the side, the both of you dig into your meal. You throw conversation back and forth like pebbles, grains of sand that build and build until you’re caught up with each other’s lives. It feels so strange to admit it’s been two years since you’ve spoken to the man, and all of a sudden the once luscious meat feels dry in your mouth.

“Jeon,” you put your chopsticks down, “are you sure you want to do this with me? I mean, I know it’s all my fault and I dragged you into it. Don’t feel obligated to agree to this.”

“I’m a hundred-percent sure,” he doesn’t stop eating, shoving two spoonfuls of rice in his mouth. His cheeks puff up considerably, and your eyes trail down to his neck as he swallows, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t wanna.”

“Right,” you don’t need a big explanation or a personal confession from Jungkook, just his consent. “Partners, Jeon?” you hold up your glass.

“Partners,” he agrees easily. The smile on his face disarms you, a full-fledged grin decked with pearly whites. Clicking his glass to yours he adds, “And it’s Jungkook, babe.”

Oh, this is going to be interesting.

Seokjin thinks the two of you are the most boring fake-couple.

His eyes dart back and forth between your spot on the couch and his desk, where Jungkook is currently seated. Seokjin is hovered over Jungkook, who’s typing and clicking furiously over his PC game. You’re on your phone, feet pulled up to the coffee table while some old Netflix movie plays in the background. To top it all off both of you didn’t even try to dress like it’s daytime, nearly matching in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. It doesn’t look like a couple coming to visit Seokin, it looks like Jungkook is playing video games with Seokjin while his cousin hangs around like she owns the place.

“Shouldn’t you guys like, I don’t know, go on dates or something?” Seokjin feels like he’s talking to the air. “Maybe get to know each other before the big day?”

Pulling your phone down to your lap and Jungkook taking off his headphones, the two of you shrug at each other, “No, we’re good.” Jungkook says.

“We know enough,” you agree cooly, “Jungkook likes Valorant.”

“I do like Valorant.”

“He likes pork belly.”

“I do like pork belly.”

“He’s ripped as hell.”

“I am ripped as hell.”

“Okay but have you guys kissed yet?” Seokjin interjects, probably compensating for the nonchalance in the room with his own brand of freaking out. You two only see each other when you’re hanging out at Seokjin’s apartment, and while he’s happy that you two aren’t doing the whole 9-yards and creating an elaborate scheme, the both of you are almost too relaxed. His anxiety is spiking.

“Yes,” Jungkook answers, “at the barbeque place we went to.”

“It was nice," you tack on, "Jin, we got this. Don't worry."

"How can I not worry when you're trying to upset our cousin on her wedding day?" he's sweating in his fully air-conditioned apartment. “I get that she’s the devil’s spawn and everything, but she’s still a human being.”

“In second grade she pushed me on the treadmill because I was going too slow. I got caught on the roller and got a bald spot for two months.”

“Okay yes one bad example—”

“And in senior year she accused me of plagiarizing her essay just because we chose the same topic. I almost didn’t get into college!” Seokjin sighs, crossing his arms. All valid points, and arguing with you isn’t a route he wants to take. “Jin, the point is that she’s constantly pushing my buttons. I’ve always been the bigger person and now that I’m old and confident I just want one jab.”

“That’s valid,” Jungkook pipes up, pressing the spacebar a few times, “I want a jab too, she cheated on me.”

“See? It’s a mutual decision.”

Seokjin asks, “Why aren’t you more worried about this?”

"Because Doyeon isn't going to chew me out on her wedding day," you checked your aunt's seating chart last week and you are far, far away from the bridal table. "We're just going to show off a little bit. Get drunk, eat some bomb steak. Break up in three months or less.”

"You don't have to just convince Doyeon, it's your entire family! Not to mention you also have to go to the bachelor party!"

"Oh I almost forgot," you reach under the couch for your laptop, "Jungkook, in two weekends from now we're flying to Las Vegas for the bachelor party and wedding. I'll buy your ticket now."

"Thanks, babe!” Jungkook sends a cheeky grin to Seokjin, who is unimpressed. “See? I remember to call her babe.”

“Alright, get out of my house,” Seokjin tugs Jungkook away from his computer, causing the younger man to swivel around in his plush gaming chair.

Jungkook frowns at the monitor, “But I’m still bronze one. I’m aiming for silver one by this weekend.”

“Don’t care. As much as I don’t like this plan, I’m not letting you two slip-up.” Seokjin pulls out his phone, revealing Doyeon’s Instagram story, “Doyeon and Namjoon are at the mall buying swimsuits for Vegas. Go to the mall and ‘accidentally’ run into them.”

You sit up straight, tilting your head to the side. “That’s not a bad idea, actually,” you bound over to grab your jacket, giving Seokjin a big fat kiss on his cheek, “Thanks Jinnie, do you know you’re—”

“I’m your favorite cousin. Yeah whatever, bye.” He waves you off, plopping in his own chair so he can enjoy his games in peace.

“I’m driving,” Jungkook declares, swiping your keys from Seokjin’s opal dish.

“Oh, hell no,” you jump on your tippy toes to reach Jungkook’s grasp on your keys, but he’s so freakishly tall there’s no way you can reach. “I drive my car!”

“I’ve always wanted to drive your car back then,” Jungkook cooes, leaning in so your noses touch. “C’mon, you can trust me.”

“You two are gross already,” Seokjin admonishes from the other side of the room, “see, it’s working!”

Poking his cheek so he gives you some space, you whip your head to hide the flush that burns on your cheeks. “Fine, but if you crash you’re buying me a new one.”

“They’re over there,” you hiss between the racks, shuffling between the plastic hangers to point to Doyeon and Namjoon at the women’s section of the store. They look disgustingly adorable together, with Doyeon pointedly telling Namjoon which swimsuit suits his stature better while Namjoon nods along and goes with whatever she says. You crouch down lower, fearing Namjoon’s tall frame would catch you. “Now we just gotta act all couple-y and they’ll notice us. Or maybe we can walk over to them? What do you wanna do?”

“Do you think we should get matching swimsuits?” Jungkook pays no mind to your sleuthing, holding up a red pair of swim trunks to his thighs, “we could pretend to be sexy lifeguards.”

You tilt your head away from the pair, only because Jungkook has been genuinely interested in this store since you’ve arrived. Putting a hand under your chin, you scrutinize the dark red cutoff shorts. “They’re cute,” you nod appreciatively, “It’ll make your thighs look thick.”

Jungkook’s grip on his hanger lowers, and he regards you with dark eyes. “You think my thighs look thick?” he asks, leaning in and putting one hand on the curve of your waist. His fingers dance on the surface of bare skin between your top and jeans, and while you’ve agreed beforehand that you two could touch each other wherever in public, it still surprises you when gooseflesh rises to the surface.

“Easy there, tiger,” you chuckle, putting a hand on his chest to stop his sudden bout of flirting. “I’m just stating the facts, we get it. You lift.”

“You’re so cute when you try to put your guard up,” he’s brushing noses with you now, and you feel the plastic of the hanger crumple pathetically between you two as the gap closes further. “But you can’t hide from me.”

And just as his lips move to press against yours, a shrill “Jungkook!” echoes throughout the large store.

You nearly flop over the boardshorts rack if not for Jungkook’s arms secured around your waist. Oh right, you think dumbly, this is all for show. Doyeon and Namjoon are right in front of you, purchases already made and looking at you two in curiosity. Well, Namjoon is definitely curious, because you know for a fact that Doyeon speaks very little of you to him and you’ve only conversed with him a handful of times. Doyeon on the other hand, looks a little stiff in the grin.

“Hello to you too,” you remark to Doyeon, who’s barely acknowledged you. You reach over to squeeze Namjoon’s arm, “Hi Joonie,” you crinkle your eyes, and you fight back a squeal when he smiles back with dimples. Doyeon has such a cute fiancé, and if you’re keeping score he’s way too good for her.

Doyeon’s eyes glaze over to where you’ve touched Namjoon, and she links her arms with his. “What a coincidence, you two are buying swimsuits where we’re buying swimsuits.”

“Well, there’s only one mall in this town and we’re going on the same trip in two weeks,” you reply blandly, and you feel Jungkook pinch your side. “Oh, Namjoon. Have you met my boyfriend Jungkook?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Namjoon reaches over to clasp Jungkook’s hand, “nice to meet you, man.”

While Namjoon and Jungkook exchange small talk, you pointedly ignore the waves of negativity Doyeon sends your way in favor of observing the two large men. Namjoon just said it was nice to meet him, therefore he has no clue who Jungkook is. Interesting, considering Doyeon two-timed in favor of Namjoon. It gets you a little antsy, and you wonder if Namjoon is faking this whole interaction or if Doyeon is hiding something.

“Baby,” Jungkook rests a hand on your shoulder, regarding you with concern, “you spaced out there, are you okay?”

“She’s like that, Jungkookie,” Jungkook gently presses your shoulders down, blocking your view of Doyeon as she regards your not-boyfriend as Jungkookie. “My cousin’s a bit of an airhead,” her tone is sweet and jesting, the backhanded jab going right above Namjoon’s head.

“I’m just hungry,” you say, forcing a tight-lipped smile.

“Well, that’s perfect,” Namjoon clasps his hands together, “Yeonie and I were just about to go grab some dinner. Why don’t you join us?”

Doyeon and you both reply immediately, “That really isn’t necessary—”

“Nonsense,” you don’t even have the heart to be upset at Namjoon because he looks so damn genuine, “It’s been two years and I haven’t even bought you a meal, y/n. After all, we’re going to be family at the end of the month.”

“Right,” you answer reluctantly.

“We’re gonna make reservations at the Cheesecake Factory,” he pulls out his phone, ready to make a call, “but you and Jungkook can finish shopping, okay? The wait will be a little long but by the time you’re done our table should be ready.”

You and Jungkook wave off Doyeon and Namjoon as they make their way to the restaurant. Your hand is caught in the air by Jungkook, who regards you with worry in his eyes. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you looked spaced out,” he says, “tell me what you were really thinking.”

Subconsciously, you squeeze his palm for comfort. “I don’t know, it just feels weird knowing Namjoon doesn’t seem to know you at all. Normally Doyeon loves to talk shit about her exes.”

Jungkook scoffs easily, “I mean, if she’s marrying the guy I’m sure she doesn’t want to let him know the details of how they ended up together.”

“True,” you decide to let it go, and follow Jungkook to the register to pay for his swim trunks.

“So,” the little ‘ding’ of the register opens up the money box, and Jungkook quickly hands the clerk his cash, “we’re having dinner with them after this?”

“Only if you want to.”

“We need to, right?” Jungkook thanks the clerk, holding the bag in one hand and threading his fingers through yours as you head out the store.

“Well, do you want to?” you ask again. Jungkook stops the two of you on the sidewalk. It isn’t a fast stop, but a slow down that makes his walk a little more thicker, more deliberate as he trudges you down the lane. You move in front of him, clutching your hands between his. “Are you okay? You barely even acknowledged Doyeon.”

“I’m fine,” you flinch at his harsh tone, and he immediately moves to remedy it by squeezing your hand back. “I’m sorry. It’s just been awhile and I’m definitely over her but,” he bows his head, feeling embarrassed, “she hurt me, you know?”

Going into this is definitely one of the more selfish plans you’ve put your mind to. Your heart pangs thinking about what must be going through everytime he sees her. If he’s reminded about all the good times they shared, or how much he’s over thought every single conversation he’s had with her up until this point.

“Of course,” you completely understand, knowing from the beginning that this whole mess would end up with some dicey feelings someway or another. “I’m just thankful you chose to stick by me. And we can talk about it if you’re comfortable,” both of you being victims of Doyeon’s brand of torture, you hope the two of you can at least be friends after all of this is over, “we don’t have to go have dinner with them.”

“But, Namjoon got us a table—”

“Namjoon will be fine. We can always have dinner with him another time,” you smile softly, “what matters is that you’re okay.”

His gaze melts, and you feel his grip loosen in your hold. He regards you with weak eyes, betraying the confidence he held himself to moments before. “Thanks, y/n,” he says, “I really appreciate that.”

“Anytime,” you reply honestly. “We can go to Cheesecake and order to-go. I can make some excuse about how my stomach hurts and that we should do a raincheck.”

“Sounds good.”

“Do you wanna eat at one of our places or eat at the park or something?” you’re already pulling up your phone, checking out the menu. “We could invite Jin too.”

“The park sounds nice,” neither of you acknowledge the fact that you’re not inviting Seokjin, and for some reason that’s okay.

“Yeah,” you agree simply, “the weather’s beautiful.”

Under any normal circumstances, you would’ve been friends with someone like Jeon Jungkook, easily. A little part of you wishes that you could’ve met Jungkook first, but Doyeon has better connections than you and always had a good crowd around despite her inner motivations. No awkward exchange happens when you suggest to Jungkook to eat together. Even though you’re not technically dating, the two of you know that eating together is better than eating alone.

And you have to admit Jungkook’s great company. The two of you drive to a reserve nearby, overlooking a tiny lake. Instead of a fancy Italian tablecloth the two of you move your car seats down and set a spare picnic blanket in the trunk. Instead of a candlelit dinner the two of you find some emergency electric tealights in the glove compartment, lighting it up between you two as you dig into your to-go boxes.

You’re a little envious that so much time has passed by. You could’ve been a little sneakier and made a better effort to communicate with Jungkook when you saw him regularly at family parties, and maybe you two would have a better friendship today. Nevertheless, the two of you mesh like peanut butter and jelly, exchanging conversation that has your cheeks sore from smiling too hard.

By the time you get to dessert, the moon is out and the stars are floating above your heads. The two of you are at war, fighting with your forks over the last strawberry in your cheesecake slice. After some careful stabbing Jungkook manages to nab it with his fork.

He almost puts it in his mouth, but instead swipes up some whipped cream to press the last strawberry to your lips.

“I think it’s working,” Jungkook says randomly as you chew the sweet fruit, “you could see it on Doyeon’s face today. She’s unsettled.”

“Yeah,” you agree, lying down on the lavender gingham picnic blanket.

“Do you know why she fights with you all the time?”

“That’s a question I’ve been asking myself since the dawn of time.”

“I think I know why.” Jungkook looks down at you with his large doe eyes, licking innocently on a spoon of whipped cream.

“Pray tell.”

“She’s jealous of you.”

“No,” you disagree easily, “she’s jealous that I have you.”

“Bzzt! Wrong,” Jungkook puts his empty container in your makeshift trash can, falling beside you and knitting his hands under his head. You have a little window on the roof of your car, so both of you are able to stare at the navy sky, “she’s always been jealous of you. Think about it. The two of you have similar lifestyles: same career path, confidence, taste, education. But even after all of that? People still like you more.”

You scoff, hands immediately reaching to fiddle with the frayed corner of fabric next to your fingers. “I don’t think so.”

“I’ve met all of Doyeon’s friends,” he informs you, “they’re weird. Like yeah, they care about each other on the surface level. But they’re nothing of substance. They’re not like your friends.”

“Please, Doyeon has everything she could ever want,” you don’t know what kind of complex you have supporting Doyeon’s life, but something deep and insecure wants to separate you two as far away from each other as possible. “Like… she’s Malibu Barbie and I’m Polly Pocket.”

Jungkook turns to face you, resting his head between his palm and leaning on his elbow. “Do you not think you’re beautiful?”

“Yeah, but compared to Doyeon—”

“You’ve always been beautiful to me, don’t you know that?”

You choke on your saliva, feeling small and skittish at the implication behind his words. It’s been two years. You’ve only been friends for two weeks. How can he possibly say that?

“I uh, saw you once,” Jungkook coughs, and you watch the way his pale cheeks unmatch the moon and instead flit to a crimson hue, “we were at some party and you were wearing this really cute black dress with a white bow in the middle. Doesn’t even matter what party because it was random, y’know? I was gonna go talk to you but Doyeon got to me first and well, the rest is history.” He breaks eye contact with you, unable to handle it.

You remember that party, vaguely. It was random, some sort of poetry slam in a shady part of town. Doyeon and you didn’t even go with each other, you were with Taehyung and she just happened to stumble in there from another nearby party. You didn’t even know Jungkook was there that night, or how you were a hair's breadth away from meeting him before Doyeon.

“Don’t ever think you’re lesser than her just because out of all the people she chose to pick on, she chose you. It’s why she never lets you get to know her boyfriends. She’s threatened by you because you’re just as special,” something low sparks in your chest at his words, “and now that you’ve finally decided to stoop to her level and fight back with a taste of her own medicine, she doesn’t know what to do.”

Feeling like your body is on a beach and you’re sinking in sand, you soften over your picnic blanket, mulling it over. “Did I make the right choice? Stooping down to her level.” Your voice is quiet, comparable to the chirping birds and buzzing gnats outside.

“We won’t know until after the wedding,” Jungkook answers honestly, “but I do know I’m sticking with you until the end. We’re friends now, got that? You have no excuse to ignore me anymore.”

You don’t want to ignore Jungkook, never in a million years. Now you know that you are envious of Doyeon, for having an opportunity to love and care for an amazing person like him. So in a sudden bout of emotion, you roll over to straddle Jungkook’s waist.

He’s shocked, hands flying to your waist to make sure you don’t wobble off. But you’re determined, and lean down to press your lips against his. He tastes like cheesecake and strawberries, the taste melding with your own as you relish in the feeling of his soft lips against yours. You melt a little when he squeaks, breaking into a soft moan as he reciprocates the gesture. He’s warm and large and he makes you feel safe. Once your brain returns to your body, you break for air. You only pull back a few centimeters, and there’s no way for you to get off because Jungkook has locked you in place.

“What was that for?” he asks breathlessly.

“Don’t know,” you’re whispering against his lips, unable to pull away, “just felt like we needed a little more practice.”

He blinks, before relaxing in a silly smile. “I agree,” he says simply, dipping you on your back so he can be on top the second time around.

“We’re in Vegas, baby!”

Every single terrible comedy movie set in Las Vegas has brought you to this very moment. You’ve always wanted to say that line. Dumping your luggage next to Jungkook’s, you flop on the nearest mattress. Thank goodness you only wore leggings and a t-shirt on the flight, it’s the optimal sleeping outfit after a long day. Feeling something hard and plastic dig into your brain, you hold up the culprit and squeal excitedly. “Look, Kook!” you wave the crinkly confection in your hands, “they put mints on the pillows!”

Despite your room being a square with two queen beds, the hotel does not skimp on quality. The decor is ornate, the white and gold trim on the doorknobs and metal appliances shimmering beautifully. The beds feel like clouds, as you try to imagine what a cloud could possibly feel like, this is it.

Jungkook immediately follows suit, ripping off his outer clothes until he’s left in his undershirt and boxers, flopping next to you on the mattress. He immediately opens his mouth when you shoot a mint, catching it easily. “I feel like we’re in a deleted scene of Crazy Rich Asians,” he says, letting the hard mint clink around his teeth, “is this the part where you tell me your family comes from old money and I’m gonna be your sugar baby?”

“Don’t be so hopeful,” you narrow your eyes, booping his button nose with your finger.

“I’m just saying, the first class flight threw me off.”

You giggle, slapping his chest, “No. If that was true, we wouldn’t be sharing a room with my cousin. Sorry you have to share the bed with me, I got the hotel with Jin and he doesn’t want to sleep with you.”

“S’okay,” Jungkook replies softly, leaning closer to make grabby hands at you, “you’re softer.”

Tentatively, you scooch over so you can lean on Jungkook’s chest. You two have a little time before Doyeon and Namjoon’s combined bachelor and bachelorette party. The past two weeks have been nice—scratch that, the past two weeks with Jungkook have been wonderful. You never cared to measure how much time passed before meeting him, but now that you’ve begun fake-dating, time is the only thing you regard. You’re already beginning to miss him, knowing that in a week, this whole arrangement will be over.

Well, not exactly over. Jungkook says you’ll remain friends after this, but you don’t really want that. You want more, and it scares you to think he may not feel the same.

But right now you’re snuggling like an old couple, sleeping comfortably between pillow-like sheets and minty breath. Your pretend boyfriend, now your pretend boyfriend with benefits, looks soft and huggable and you want to bottle up this moment forever. You say benefits because, well, the cuddling is an added bonus. Practice practice practice, Jungkook sing songs the words you used that one night under the stars, excuses to seal his lips to your lips. You’ll never argue with that. So when Jungkook’s hand tightens around your waist and pulls you closer, you relent.

One second, you’re closing your eyes and the next, you’re waking up to Seokin’s wide eyes staring back at you.

“Eep, you creepo!” you shriek, scrambling away from him. That’s when you realize Jungkook’s missing from bed, the scent of his laundry detergent lingering between the eggshell Egyptian cotton.

“Jungkook’s in the shower,” Seokjin immediately reads your mind, pulling away so he can unpack his luggage. “My flight just got in two hours ago, you both were out like a light when I arrived.”

“Ugh, I’m really not ready to party.”

“Doyeon just texted the family group chat. She reserved the rooftop, the party starts in an hour,” he talks mindlessly, rifling through his stuff. Seokjin is fiddling with his clothes, despite the fact that you know Seokjin prepares his outfits days in advance so he doesn’t have to choose. He looks concerned, pulling out a flamingo pink boardshort and setting it down on his mattress. Finally he says, “I’m worried about you.”

“Why?”

“Because. It’s clear that you’re starting to fall for Jungkook.”

The words strike you straight in the place you’re trying to avoid. You’ve been living in a fantasy these past two weeks, thinly veiled by the whole reason you two are together in the first place. Doyeon’s wedding is just around the corner, and what then?

“I’m not saying that he doesn’t feel anything for you either,” that gets your heart skipping a beat, and you secretly hold a hand to your chest under the blankets, “but do you really want to start off a relationship like this? A relationship all messy and morally objective because it’s built on revenge?”

“Don’t worry about me,” the words easily fall from your lips, “I can take care of this.”

“I hate it when you say that,” the words are curt and harsh against Seokjin’s plush lips, “I’m allowed to worry about you, y/n. You know why? Because, because you’re my favorite cousin too,” he bites his lip, walking over so he sits on your side of the bed. “So don’t tell me what I can and can’t worry about. I want you to be happy, I want you to stop holding in this anger you have for Doyeon and move on.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, leaning over to press your cheek against Seokjin’s shoulder. “You’re right.”

“For the first time in a long time, you’ve finally decided to lean on someone,” and both of you know who that someone is. “I don’t want you to lose him over some petty family issue. You should tell him how you feel.”

“I will,” you wrap your arms around your cousin’s slim waist in a silent thanks.

“Am I interrupting a tender family moment?”

The two of you pull away to stare at Jungkook, leaning against the doorframe that leads to the bathroom. He’s in a plain white t-shirt and the red board shorts that you bought at the mall, cutting off mid-thigh and revealing the bulky muscle underneath. You were right, the shorts do make his thighs look thick.

Seokjin groans exaggeratedly. “Yes, yes you did.”

Jungkook immediately goes to replace Seokjin’s spot, and some stray droplets fall fresh from the shower due to his slicked-back hair. “Do you wanna get ready? First party’s soon.”

“Not really,” you admit, “you’re gonna meet the family all over again.”

“Second time’s the charm,” he winked, “I’ve already met your parents and everything. Not feeling nervous at all.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really,” and the facade cools down a little, “well, maybe a little nervous for your Aunt Lillian. Her stares give me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from Aunt Lillian.”

“God the two of you get worse every day,” Seokjin has magically changed into his shorts, tucking himself into the bed, “don’t wake me up until we pre-game.”

Doyeon and Namjoon don’t skimp on the festivities, although in taste the ideas are Doyeon’s in its entirety. It’s lavish and colorful, with a beautiful infinity pool in the middle decorated with lavender and pink headlights. There’s a buffet table overflowing with tasty food. There’s petal pink champagne overflowing from fountains, decorated with fresh strawberries bobbing around the fizzy drink.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon and Jungkook have been talking for well over an hour, and it’s clear how well they mesh together. Heck, you’ve accepted that Jungkook may like Namjoon more than he likes you. Jungkook’s eyes sparkle as Namjoon discusses the various genres of rap and hip-hop music, explaining the potency of mature themes in a young community, “but I will say music is like another language, knows no boundaries when it comes to sending their messages to others.”

You fight the urge to chuckle when Jungkook sighs dreamily at the music theory professor. “Wow, that’s so deep.”

Getting up from your cabana, you nudge Seokjin, who��s currently flirting it up with one of Doyeon’s bridesmaids. “Hey, wanna get a drink?” you ask, throwing your wrap on the cushions to reveal your strappy red bikini.

“And chicken tenders,” Seokjin presses a kiss to the bridesmaid’s cheek, bidding her goodbye as he follows you out of the shaded area.

“Do you two lovebirds want anything?” you stare pointedly at Namjoon and Jungkook. While Namjoon’s eyes stay in contact with you, you can’t help but smile a little more when Jungkook has a hard time keeping his gaze in one place.

“I think we’re fine,” Namjoon answers for both of them, swirling his beer bottle. “I’ll meet you two at the bar once I’m done.”

“Sure thing,” Seokjin puts a hand on your back to lead you to one of the open bars. As much as you like being in a handsome hotel with money to burn, nothing beats the fact that your entire family is here to celebrate. The elders have corroborated two cabanas for poker and other games, while your younger cousins are playing ping pong and air hockey on the other side.

“Namjoon sure is a dreamboat,” Seokjin bemoans, handing you an electric orange drink. You take a sip of it, and bug out when you realize it tastes nothing like alcohol. You’re definitely in for a night. “Like I can hear him wax music thingamajib any day.”

“I thought you were into that bridesmaid.”

“A mere diversion,” he sighs, leaning his tanned arms against the bar, “can’t ignore the deep voice Namjoon has, it’s intoxicating.”

“I’m sure Jungkook would agree,” you egg on.

“What are you two talking about?” you straighten up when the man of the hour shows up at the bar, absolutely glowing under the sunset. He orders a round for the three of you, and you immediately chug your own drink to get to the next one.

“Talking about how you’re stealing Jungkook away from me,” you joke, accepting another fruity drink from Namjoon. Damn, this stuff tastes like candy.

“Oh, never,” Namjoon replies brightly, waving the thought away, “do you see the way he looks at you? Hopelessly in love.”

Maybe it’s the copious amounts of alcohol, but you feel your stomach flip-flop at the thought of love. You’ve always known what love felt like, the warmth of Namjoon’s cheeks whenever he sees Doyeon, when your mom takes care of you when you’re sick, when Seokjin makes sure you’re not emotionally constipated 24/7. But the thought of Jungkook and you in love? It’s a feeling you secretly yearn for.

“Right? It’s disgusting,” Seokjin groans with an eye roll, “like, Jungkook wasn’t like that with Doyeon at all when they were together.”

The slip up has the three of you choking on your own thoughts, staring at each other like the three have just been told you’re on a prank show. But it is no prank, and you look at Seokjin who’s absolutely horrified.

“Oh shit,” he squeaks, looking at Namjoon guiltily, “did I say something I shouldn’t have said?”

“I don’t know,” Namjoon replies coolly, “did you?”

The ominous response gets you going, and you quickly place a hand on Namjoon’s arm, placating him. “They dated, yes. But it was only for a short time and we’ve sorted everything out. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Oh,” Namjoon quirks his head, and regards you two with pursed lips. “I’m not one of those guys who freak out over other people’s exes. I’m just surprised that I’ve only heard this now,” Namjoon takes a slow sip of his drink, and despite your drink also being cold and refreshing, you’re absolutely sweating.

“Well, I’m sure Doyeon didn’t want to worry you.”

At the mention of his future wife, he beams. “You’re right, she’s considerate like that,” and the conversation ends just like that. He holds up his drink to the two of you, and you and Seokjin do the same. With a sharp clink he leaves you two to mull, happily conversing with the next round of guests he needs to entertain for the week.

“That guy is too nice for his own good,” you shake your head, asking the bartender for your third drink within ten minutes.

Seokjin leans over you and warbles, “So you’re telling me that Namjoon has no idea that Doyeon cheated on Jungkook in order to date him?” he’s sweating just like you are, following suit to your actions and asking to make his drink a double.

“I don’t know,” you bite your lip, your teeth worrying the dark skin, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while though. I just don’t want to get involved, you know?”

“But this is different!”

“But Doyeon’s family!”

“And all of a sudden you care about Doyeon’s feelings?” Seokjin gripes back, “it’s not about Doyeon, it’s about the both of them. And if we know something that Namjoon doesn’t, wouldn’t it be in our best interests to warn him before he seals a marriage deal that costs him over a zillion dollars?” he gestures to the extravagant wedding party.

“But we don’t even have any proof that’s the case,” you frown, “Doyeon could have changed—a little, not a lot—since meeting Namjoon, maybe she thinks it’s best to reveal as little as possible.”

Seokjin wonders what kind of family he has. One as chaotic as his takes a lot to stomach, and Seokjin likes to pride himself in his strong appetite. “Fine, let’s just keep a close eye on both of them this week. And if anything remotely fishy happens, we strike.”

“Deal.”

You return to the cabana alone, with a plate of fries for both you and Jungkook. Jungkook is also alone, laying on the lounge chair with his eyes closed. It gives you a chance to ogle your fake-boyfriend a little bit, reveling in the sight of his toned body.

Setting down your plate with a sharp rap of the glass, Jungkook opens one eye. “Hey,” he smiles, drinking in your muted expression, “you okay?”

Damn Jungkook for being able to read you so well. “I think so. It’s nothing, really.”

“Well, will you tell me if it’s something?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“So, I do have something to tell you though.” Jungkook sits up, regarding you wearily. “Can you… stand in front of me?” Confused, you shove a fry in your mouth and walk up to him as directed, your back blocking the entrance as you stand in front of him. “Okay, come closer. Now bend down,” you bend your back 90 degrees, and he presses a hand to your shoulder to stop you, “no, no. With your breasts out, just a little—there! Arch your back. Like you’re doing the Sorority Squat.”

“Excuse me—”

“The music isn’t even that loud,” he mutters to himself, “no one would need to push their boobs in my face to hear me.”

“Jungkook, is someone pressing boobs to your face?”

“Why,” he breaks into a playful grin, “jealous?”

“Not if it’s Aunt Lillian.”

“Unfortunately it wasn’t,” he twiddles with the drawstrings of his shorts. “It was Doyeon.”

Doyeon? She didn’t walk by your cabana all day. Heck, she barely greeted you when you arrived with Jungkook. But when Jungkook’s alone is when she decides to pounce? And with what motive?

“I don’t know,” he’s rambling to himself, “maybe I’m overthinking it. It was only half a second.”

“Jungkook, I have something to tell you,” you say instead, panic in your features.

“Is it something urgent?”

“Well, no but—”

“Then tell me when we get back to the room,” Jungkook easily pulls you onto his lap, and you instantly heat up when you feel your bare butt press against Jungkook’s golden thighs. “Like you said, we’re in Vegas. Let’s have fun while we can.”

“Okay,” you tuck your head between his neck and collarbone, reaching to press a kiss to his smooth jawline.

Relaxing against the plush lounge chair Jungkook feeds you fries while talking about the things he wants to do this week. It’s his first time in Vegas and he wants to make the most of it. He wants to visit all the buffets he sees on Buzzfeed compilations, relax at the pool, maybe catch a show. The thought of spending all week with him and your family is nice, and suddenly you don’t feel so awkward sitting on his lap, and eventually he pulls you between his thighs so you can lay on his chest.

“And between you and me,” he fake whispers against the shell of your ear, as if he’s telling you the biggest secret, “we’re the hottest couple here.”

The next three days leading up to the wedding are relatively uninteresting.

Uninteresting in the best way possible. On Monday you and Jungkook spend time with your little cousins, taking them to The Adventuredome, one of the resort's indoor theme parks. On Tuesday you and Jungkook go shopping at the outlet malls with your parents, blowing hundreds of dollars on cheap Levis that have your luggage bursting with a new wardrobe. In between all of that Seokjin and occasionally Namjoon joins you two in your buffet journey, hitting up the top spots and filling your tummies to the brim with delicious food.

On Wednesday, Jungkook brandishes two gold-foiled tickets in front of you, waving them around like a fan. With one finger, he pushes away your Pokémon battle, “I got us tickets to Cirque du Soleil,” he announces proudly, “waited in line for an hour.”

You gape, scrambling off of your bed and throwing your Nintendo Switch to the side. “Jungkook,” you marvel, “these are so expensive. How’d you manage to get a show for tonight?”

He shrugs, “Looked around.”

“You’ve been impulse buying a lot this week,” you tease, “like really, you don’t need three pairs of the same ripped jeans.”

“This wasn’t an impulse buy,” he says, “I’ve been looking around for shows. Just managed to pick them up today, so go get dressed for our date.”

Did Jungkook just call it a date? Giddy with excitement you throw the covers off, running into the bathroom to get ready. What a surprise, you didn’t think Jungkook would be into spontaneous things like this.

Seokjin left the bathroom open, so when you walk in the room it is steamy and warm. Your dear cousin is still in the shower, probably waiting for his conditioner to pass three minutes of set-in time.

“What are you getting ready for?” Seokjin asks over the rain shower.

“Kook got us tickets to Cirque du Soleil,” you chirp happily, looking through your skin care products.

“I wanna come!”

“Nope! Jungkook called it a date.”

“Oh, a date,” Seokjin drawls, putting his head under the water to rinse his hair clean. “Well then, should I vacate the room for tonight?”

“What, no!” you’ve closed the door, so thankfully Jungkook can’t hear you talking about him. “We’re not doing anything. We’re just two friends who are fake-dating going on a date.”

“Sounds like a real date, though,” Seokjin wraps a towel around himself to cover all his important bits before getting out of the shower, bumping elbows with you so he can brush his teeth. “Either way, I’ll be gone tonight. It’s my turn to watch the baby cousins. Don’t have too much fun while I'm in their room watching Despicable Me for the millionth time.”

“We’ll be sure to stop by with some pizza or something,” you tease, a little wiggle in your hips when you vacate the bathroom.

By the time you and Jungkook are ready, you two are dressed impeccably. Jungkook is wearing one of the ripped black jeans he bought on Tuesday, combined with a white button up and black blazer. A classic outfit with a little bit of Jungkook-themed flair. And to Jungkook’s surprise, you’re wearing the dress that he first saw you in, all those years ago. You’ve gained a little weight since college, but you still fill out the little black dress beautifully, the little white bow in the middle adding a simple yet adorable touch. It took a little sleuthing and searching through your old college clothes, but you were determined to find it when Jungkook reminded you how much you love the design.

Clearly from the way Jungkook is currently gaping at you like a bloated fish, he loves it too.

The show is beautiful and colorful, leaving you speechless and in tears by the end of it. Jungkook lets you hold his hand the entire time, feeling a bout of anxiety anytime the acrobats fall gracefully despite the large height.

Overall, it was a wonderful show, paired with your equally enamouring date. It’s getting harder and harder to distinguish what’s fake and what’s real in your heart, and throughout the night you’re sorely reminded that you should tell Jungkook how you feel.

But by the time you get to the room your parents are calling you, asking to get their suit and dresses out of the car so hotel service can do a last minute press and dry clean.

“I’ll be back,” you say to Jungkook, “I need to go get their clothes out of the car. They’re always so forgetful.”

“Want me to come?” he offers, hand shying away from inserting the keycard in.

“No, I’ll only be fifteen minutes, tops.”

“So I guess this is this the part where I get a goodnight kiss?” he asks cheekily, leaning on his heels so his tall frame reaches yours. You don’t hesitate to give a short peck to his pretty pink lips. He pouts at the brevity, “that was too quick.”

“Go inside,” you insist, “the sooner you get ready for bed the sooner I can get ready for bed.”

“Then more kisses?”

“Then more kisses.”

Jungkook breaks into an all-teeth smile, unable to control himself when he dips down and steals a longer, more lingering kiss to your lips. “I had a great time tonight,” he says, mimicking every single teenage rom-com protagonist who’s deeply in love with the popular jock. “Don’t take too long, okay?”

You nod, pushing him inside, “C’mon, if you stopped talking I’d be back by now!”

Once the door closes shut, you let yourself do a little dance in the hallway, wiggling your butt and giving yourself a mini-celebration. You quickly text your group chat that you just came back from the Cirque show.

Jimin: what, a date with your fake date?

Hobi: jeon jungcock? 👀👀

Jimin: whaaaaaattttt. U’ve gotta have sat in his lap at least. 3 times since you’ve started this ting

Hobi: i’ve heard things in college…

Taehyung: u are all gross and i hate u

Taehyung: but so am i bc im very curious

Just as you’re about to send a heated reply, the elevator dings, revealing a pissed off Doyeon. She’s bare-faced, in a fluffy lilac bath robe and matching puff ball slippers. You slip in right beside her, making sure there’s a comfortable amount of space between you two.

“You’re going to the parking garage too?” you ask, eyes lingering on the lit button.

“Yeah,” she’s looking at her phone, a few stray hairs from her mahogany bun falling onto her forehead, “Aunt Lillian left her medication in the car. I don’t know why she has to send me, I’m busy getting married.”

“My parents left their formal clothes in the car,” you shrug, “you know, my parents and Aunt Lillian share the same brain cell. Gotta help them out once in a while.”

The icy silence in the elevator is probably the calmest you and Doyeon have been since you’ve announced your relationship status with Jungkook. You fight the sigh, opting to take out your phone and open some unread messages.

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: hurry up, the bed’s cold without u

You: lool, why do u look constipated

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: because i am, hurry up. Im bringing ur switch to the toilet and playing on your profile

You: JEON WAIT YAMPERS AT 5HP GO TO THE POKEMON CENTER U HEATHEN

You tilt your head a centimeter, feeling Doyeon breathing down your neck like Puff the Magic Dragon. You look at her with wide eyes. Her long, slender neck manages to snake its way next to your head, “Can I help you?” you ask amusedly, clutching your phone to your chest.

“Are you two really together?” she asks, batting her lashes. All this week she’s left you alone, and you’ve been wondering when she’s going to make herself known. It’s a little self-absorbed you have to admit, but ever since Namjoon’s ignorance to Doyeon’s previous relationship, you’ve been on edge.

“Of course we are,” you spit back, “I love him.”

And you must be very convincing, because Doyeon’s gaze falters just a fraction. You glare at her, staking your claim. Ever since Jungkook told you the reason Doyeon hates you is because she’s jealous, you’ve started to feel a bit of sympathy for her. Doyeon is beautiful and smart, she has no reason to feel this way. But the brain holds fickle thoughts sometimes, bringing darkness to the mind.

“He loved me first,” she bites back, lifting her chin.

“And why do you care?” you laugh tonelessly. The elevator dings open, and you’re met with the open air and concrete of the parking garage. “He may have loved you first, but he’ll love me last.”

You leave the elevator first, a little pep in your step as you make your way to the rental car to gather your parent’s things. While the words you uttered are white in nature and may not hold any sort of weight to them, it manages to bring Doyeon to her knees, absolutely quaking in the elevator.

You’re tasting revenge, and it’s sweet.

“Okay, you need to leave,” Seokjin pulls away the shot glass from your lips, “I didn’t spend days planning the itinerary for you to mess it up. Bridal party in Doyeon’s suite and the groom’s party in Namjoon’s parents suite.”

“That’s dumb,” you chastise, crossing your arms, “we’re all meeting at the same club at 10. Why can’t we pre-party together?”

“Because it’s tradition!”

“Screw tradition,” you stumble on your heels as you purse your lips at Jungkook, “Kook, when we get married I don’t wanna do a whole boy-and-girl party. We’re equals, right?”

“Of course, baby,” he cooes, being careful not to smudge your makeup when he presses his lips to the crown of your head. “But for the sake of Seokjin’s sanity, you should probably go to Doyeon’s. It’ll only be an hour or two.”

You gasp exaggeratedly at the blatant betrayal. He only grins cheekily in response, dipping down to press a wet kiss to your cheek. “Fine,” you cross your arms, snatching back your drink from Seokjin’s grasp to knock it down.

Leaving the bachelor pre-party pains you considerably. They’re having such a good time joking around the suite, telling each other fun stories and relaxing in chairs as they watch TV. This is your kind of crowd, not to mention that you can peacefully check out Jungkook’s ass in those tight dress pants without any crazy club lights distorting your vision.

From past family party experience you already have a feeling what’s coming for you in the ladies’ suite.

Loud music pours from Doyeon’s suite, and it’s completely unlocked. The bridal party is raving, ten seconds away from being completely drunk and immobile. The lights are being manually shut on and off like some sort of cheap rager, and you have to tell Yoojung to tone it down before you get a seizure.

The stench of acidic drinks and the tang of alcoholic air is palpable, and instead of a shot you opt for a glass of peach champagne to slow you down.

As you walk deeper into the suite, you notice a crowd forming by the balcony. Tapping your cousin Nari on the shoulder, you regard her with a hug and kiss. “What’s going on over there?” you ask, heels not helping you see any better.

Nari’s all blushy and pink, hiccuping as she gestures to the balcony. “Her maid of honor got Doyeon a very special gift!”

Managing to weave through the women blocking your view, you fight the urge to gag when you have a clear view of the scene in front of you.

You really don’t understand the purpose of bachelor and bachelorette parties. “One night to be single all over again!” they all say, even though they’re not actually single? Like why does the couple suddenly get one night of forgiveness when you’ve already spent years being in a committed relationship?

Why is it okay that Doyeon’s dry humping a stripper on the balcony? Her white silk dress is ruched dangerously high, soon close to flashing her family. Aunties and friends and the like are cheering her on, and she flips her head perfectly to all the phones shoved in their faces, making sure to get the perfect angle.

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you turn back in the hopes that your other family members would be willing to have a good old-fashioned tip back with you.

You squeal when your hands accidentally land on a bare, oiled chest. You look up, mortified at the large man covered in black harnesses. “Hey babe, I’m Wonho,” he says, faking a sultry gaze as he looks at you up and down, “you’re part of the bridal party too? Wanna dance?”

Feeling naked, you push past him, careful not to get anything on your dress. Wonho? Wonno.

Jungkook loves your family.

(Except Doyeon.)

As much as he told you not to worry about him, and he’ll be completely fine when he meets your family, he couldn’t help be a little wary on the flight over. After all, it’s been two years and he didn’t know how things would be different.

Chaoticism and all, your family is a thing to be cherished. Even though Yoongi has been on mood swings that make Jungkook question his sanity from time to time, and Seokjin is secretly breathing down Jungkook’s back every time he so glances at you, he thinks things are right where they should be.

But despite all that they regarded him with familiarity, hugged and kissed him like old friends, something is different. They’ve turned over a new page for him. They don’t bring up Doyeon. They ask about his family, his job, his life in the city. They ask about how you and Jungkook met, and how happy they are for you. How happy they are for him.

Oh, how he wishes everything could be different. In another world, you two would already be together.

He wasn’t lying back at the cabana when he said you two are the hottest couple at the resort, including the bridal party (but don’t tell Namjoon). You look absolutely stunning in your sparkly red dress, accentuating all the right parts and lighting up the whole room.

When he finds you in the club you’re sitting down with your Aunties, keeping the elders company while the younger ones are flagging down the bartenders. He thinks it’s cute, how well you fit in between them, coddling you like you’re still a child in their eyes.

“Dear, your boyfriend is here!” your one Aunt yells over the loud EDM.

You lift your head up quickly, giving him the prettiest smile. Your teeth glow purple under the neon lights, and he fights the urge to laugh when he holds out a hand. “Mind if I steal her from you?”

“Of course, she’s gotta live a little!”

You pout, a little wobbly but nevertheless still in the right mind as you shuffle out of the booth to meet his awaiting arms. “Hey handsome,” your voice is thick and sweet-smelling, “come here often?”

“Only when my girlfriend does,” he replies cheekily, hands immediately coming to your butt to smooth out your dress. He shys a bit when your Aunties hoot and holler at his public display of affection, but all he wants to do was pull the hem down a little bit. No way is he going to let anyone get a flash of your goods.

“Let’s dance!” you take your hand in his, leading him to a comfortable corner of the dance floor.

Clubs aren’t really your scene, aligning with Jungkook’s sentiments towards the loud generic music and terrible smell. But you’re in Vegas, and he feels that it’s all part of the package to experience the nightlife at least once. He puts his hands on your waist and you giggle like you’re in prom, hands coming to rest on the collar of his button down.

“Hey,” he says with a lopsided smirk, “wanna make out?”

“Sure,” he notices that you don’t even check if anyone’s seeing, and it makes his heart flutter when you don’t hesitate to get on your tiptoes to meet him halfway.

He’s always hoped for a moment like this, a moment where the room stops spinning and both your minds click into place. It’s almost comical, how he distinctly notes that the music fades once his lips touch yours. The kiss is hot, yet intimate. Even though he makes excuses to kiss you all the time because of practice, it goes to show that you two definitely never needed it. Your tiny hands grip the collar of his button down, bringing you two impossibly close despite the hot air. His larger hands grip at the strings that hold your measly dress together, grappling at any excuse to get to your soft skin. The two of you are a natural when it comes to each other’s intimacy.

The two of you pull away, mesmerized. You haven’t kissed like that before. He melts under your stare, his thumb reaching to nick off any lip gloss that’s moved in the process.

Seokjin comes down the floor to haul you both by the shoulders, “C’mon lovebirds, they’re taking wedding shots!”

The two of you follow your cousin to the crowd of people that is your family, already with their own drinks in hand. Doyeon and Namjoon are sitting atop the bar, making a very loud toast that consisted of a quick “thank you!” and “we love you!” before downing their drinks with their arms linked together. The room is thrumming with excitement for tomorrow’s festivities, and surprisingly, you and Jungkook included. He tucks himself in your body like a puzzle piece, hugging you from behind while he watches Namjoon’s eyes sparkle with love under the neons.

The nightclub gets a little blurry after that, with the copious amounts of alcohol and shameless actions from your family and friends. By the time it’s twelve Jungkook notices you swaying at a rate that you can’t handle. He knows your limits and knows when you have to urge to pee every five minutes, it’s time to go. With a chaste kiss you leave him at the bar, deciding to make a pitstop to the bathroom before telling Jungkook you want to head up.

You’re locked in a stall when you hear Yoojung’s voice.

“Ugh,” she groans, voice echoing through the tiny room. “Jungkook is so sexy. Do you see the way he’s dancing out there? He’s a literal babe magnet, I can’t believe he ended up with someone like y/n.”

You don’t move a muscle, pressing your ear against the door that hides you. The silly slander isn’t news to you, Doyeon has been feeding her friends all sorts of bullcrap so they wouldn’t bother talking to you.

“Yeah, Jungkook’s a real treat but he dated Doyeon first. Sounds like she’s into sloppy seconds,” Elly replies, another bridesmaid you’ve met in passing. “But I don’t know, they do look happy together.”

“Please, I’m sure Jungkook’s just using her so he can get one more chance at Doyeon before she ties the knot,” you bristle, the thought of Jungkook still having feelings for Doyeon makes your heart thud painfully against your chest, “like, what a downgrade. Namjoon and Doyeon do not deserve this drama. If Jungkook ever liked Doyeon at all, he wouldn’t have come. Period.”

You slam the door open, causing Elly to squeal and Yoojung’s YSL lipstick to fall onto the sink. You’re the epitome of relaxation, walking towards the sink to wash your hands. The bridesmaids simply stare at you, unable to formulate a comeback. When you finally dry your hands, you say your next words.

“Jungkook is here because he loves me,” an act act act. This is all an act. You shouldn’t be this offended because you know it’s all false. “And you’re wrong. It’s not Jungkook that doesn’t deserve Doyeon. Jungkook was too good for Doyeon.”

And you slam your heels against the tile, stilettos pounding to the beat of the music. Your exit is full of anger and frustration as you ignore the burn in your step and the ache in your heart, flagging the first bartender you see to get you a double.

Shot for shot, that anger soon melts into guilt as Yoojung’s words sink in. The thought of Jungkook using you to get to Doyeon is terrible, you can barely stomach the thought. But that’s exactly what you’re doing, right? You’re using Jungkook to get back at Doyeon.

Why did you even want to get back at Doyeon anymore? Why do you have to prove anything to her? If she just continues to push you around, isn’t that more on her than it is on you?

Jungkook soon finds you after you’ve nursed a few drinks, leaning unceremoniously against a barstool. His eyes widen at your state, and he immediately sheds his jacket to wrap it around your waist.

“Why did you drink so much?” he chastises, “it’s the night before the wedding.”

“Jungkookie,” you warble, clutching your stomach, “I don’t feel so good.”

He sighs, bending down. “Get on my back. Make sure the jacket covers you up, okay?”

He doesn’t even grunt when you put all your weight on him, feeling like a ragdoll as he hoists you up. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, letting him carry you to your room. Most of the older family already went upstairs to sleep, so none of your cousins could care less when they see you get hauled away by Jungkook.

You inhale, he smells like sweat and cologne. “I like putting my head between your neck,” you babble, and you feel Jungkook chuckle through his chest, “you smell so nice there. It’s the bestset! Comfiest place ever, ‘specially when m’sleepy.”

“Are you sleepy now, baby?” You love how smooth the petname falls from his lips.

“I will be when we get upstairs,” you reply, happy to see the elevator is empty. “I’m just all up in my head.”

“Is that why you were drinking so much? You said you were gonna stop earlier.”

“Yeah, but,” you shamefully tuck your head in his shoulder, “I was frustrated.”

“Frustrated? At who?” concern laces his tone as he struggles to hold you with one hand and fumble for his key in the other. You tighten your legs around his slim waist until the door clicks open, and he immediately walks over to your bed to plop you down. “Babe, are you crying?” he finally has a good look at your face, horrified to see the streaks of tears mixed with mascara running down your face.

“I wa-was jealous,” you confess tearily, clutching your face in your hands, “some girls in the bathroom were calling you sexy and that you were only here so you could try to win over Doyeon. I know it sounds ridiculous and you would never do that but. The thought of you getting back with her makes me so jealous and I hate it! I’m starting to feel so guilty about this, all of this. I put all of this on ourselves and I’m ruining it.”

“Ruining what? You’re not making any sense.” Jungkook places a hand on your knee, crouching down so he can look up at you.

“I’m ruining us,” you gush despondently, “I’m ruining any potential of us before we even start.”

Jungkook freezes, hand clutching your knee like a lifeline. The potential of you two together? You’ve thought of that? Jungkook didn’t drink much tonight, so his mind is definitely running on all cogs.

Coming to a conclusion, he rubs slow, soothing circles on your knee, his other hand reaching up to wipe the tears from your face. “You’re not ruining anything,” he declares firmly, “that’s impossible. I may have agreed to fake-date you because of Doyeon, but I stayed because of you.”

His heart aches seeing you so upset, and he decides to take initiative to get you out of your clothing and ready for bed. You don’t have any words, opting to let Jungkook take care of you as you try to calm yourself down. He finds a spare t-shirt, a long one so you’ll be comfortable. He doesn’t bat an eye when he unzips your dress, in favor of balling up the shirt and getting you clothed as fast as possible. He rifles through the bathroom to find your makeup wipes, and he’s gentle when he scrubs up the once pretty makeup you spent half an hour doing. Barefaced and fresh, you look sleepy and ready to crash.

But before Jungkook can tuck you in, you clutch his arm.

“Jungkook,” you murmur sleepily, “I think I lo—”

“I know, baby,” he doesn’t want a confession like this, and he’s sure you wouldn’t want it either. You still look a little green and you’re not sober, so he makes the executive decision to pin these feelings for later. “I’m not trying to invalidate you, I promise. I want you to tell me this, all of this in the morning. We’ll talk then.”

“Okay,” you melt in the sheets, pulling the blankets up to your chest. When you see Jungkook move away from the bed, you jolt, “Where are you going?”

Jungkook smiles, reaching over to tuck you back in, “I left my blazer in Namjoon’s room. I’ll be right back, okay?”

He walks out of your room as quietly as he can, making sure to close the door slowly. Once it’s sealed shut, he leaps up, giving himself a silent cheer as he bounds down the hall. You like him back!

The smile on his face is tired but full of fervor as he makes his way to Namjoon and Doyeon’s suite. He doesn’t even care that he probably has to talk to Doyeon to get his jacket back, thoughts filled with the excitement of his requited feelings and going back to his room to cuddle up with you.

He doesn’t even have to knock when the large double doors swing open. Dumbfounded, he looks down at Doyeon, wearing a tiny black nightie and dangling his jacket with one finger. It’s an outfit that leaves nothing to the imagination, and he feels his neck heat up at the feeling he’s encroaching on an intimate moment.

“You left this,” she says slowly, a tiny smirk on her lips.

“Uh, thanks,” he says, making sure not to touch her when he grabs his blazer.

In her other hand she holds up her room’s designated ice bucket. “Could you also get me some ice, please? Namjoon’s fast asleep and I really don’t want to walk out all… exposed.”

He swallows his sigh, knowing it’s going to take significantly longer to get back to you when Doyeon drawls like this. “Of course,” he replies tersely, “after all, you are the bride.”

“Thanks, Jungkookie.”

He makes quick work of getting Doyeon the ice, pumping his long legs down the hall. The ice room is cold and cramped, barely enough for his tall frame to fit in. He jabs the container in the holder, pressing the button ten times per second to get as much ice out as possible.

As soon as he turns around with the ice, he drops the whole bucket.

Like glass, it shatters onto the ground, hundreds of little clear pebbles skimming across the floor like marbles. Doyeon’s pushing Jungkook against the ice machine, freshly manicured hands splayed across his chest. Her body is flush against his, making sure that he feels all of her with her thin silk gown.

“What the fuck, Doyeon get off of me!” a little part of him hopes she’ll come to her senses on her own so he doesn’t have to put his hands on her.

“C’mon, Kookie,” her voice is a sickly candy sweet, her eyes wide with hunger as she takes in his form, “just one more night, you and me. Like old times. One more night before I tie the knot.”

“You’re crazy,” he balks, running his hand through his hair, “this is sexual harassment, do you know that?”

“You don’t mean that, Kookie,” Doyeon dips a red-tipped nail down his chest, “why settle for someone like y/n when I’m right here?”

He grabs her wrists, firm. She winces at the contact, but doesn’t say anything when Jungkook delivers her a scary glare. It gets her quiet, fearful of this version of Jungkook. Doyeon’s never seen Jungkook like this before, so unwilling to bend at her whim and emanating all his power against her.

“Why settle for your cousin?” he whispers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “because, I love her.”

Her lip curls in disgust, nails digging into the palm of his hand. “But you loved me first.”

“And I’ll love her last,” he spits pack, letting go of her. His anger splits for a brief second, regarding Doyeon with sorrow, “this is low, even for you.”

Jungkook pushes past the ice, wobbling out of the ice room. He doesn’t look back, he just knows that he needs you right now. He needs to tell you everything, figure out a plan to cancel the wedding or something.

But when he crashes inside the room, you’re dead asleep. He can’t find the courage to wake up Seokjin as well, who returned and is sleeping in his club outfit. He groans, feeling useless as he stares at the two of you, ignorant of what just conspired ten minutes ago.

And Namjoon, what is he going to tell Namjoon? Poor guy doesn’t deserve any of this.

Walking up to your side of the bed, he tucks your loose hair behind your ear. You look so peaceful now, so beautiful.

It’s just going to have to wait until the morning.

The morning of the wedding, you wake up alone.

The first thought that runs through your head is that Jungkook has rejected you. The little, insecure bug that will never go away in your brain fills you with rash thoughts. He’s on a flight half way back home and he regrets this whole week.

But after that exaggeration, you notice two aspirin and a bottle of water on your nightstand, along with your phone that’s fully charged.

You pull up the screen to check the dozens of messages that flood your app.

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: morning babe, im sorry i had to leave early. Namjoon showed up at our door freaking out that his suit is the wrong fit and shade. Now im running around vegas trying to find a replacement that doesn’t look like an elvis presley extra

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: but i didn’t forget what you said last night, i promise! Just go get ready and i’ll meet u at the chapel outside the resort.

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: i also have something to say to you

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: wow i didn’t realize how ominous that sounds. Dw, everything will be fine

When someone tells you something will be fine, it’s a universal agreement that no, things will not be fine.

So you get dressed, and put on your makeup mindlessly. You don’t really know what to make of Jungkook’s cryptic message, but you decide to leave those thoughts in the back of your mind as you go to the other rooms to help your family get ready.

Seokjin is busy tying the ring bearer’s tie, looking handsome with his slicked back hair and polished grey suit. “Morning, cousin,” he sing-songs, “you look beautiful today!”

You smooth out your dress, a cascading silver number with starry sparkles. You feel like you’re living out your magical girl fantasies, wrapped up in layers of tulle and a sparkly sweetheart bodice.

“Right back at you. Say, you didn’t see Jungkook this morning, did you?”

“No, but I heard he’s with Namjoon hunting for a new suit. Why?”

“Nothing,” you lean against the guest table, “he just said something really ominous over text.”

“I will never get a peaceful day so long as I’m in this family,” he says this directly to the ring bearer, a toddler who’s obviously confused at his uncle’s weird sayings.

Your phone beeps conveniently, displaying Jungkook’s name.

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: just got his suit. We’ll be there in fifteen. Meet me at the garden behind the chapel, please. It’s urgent

Now you’re just worried. So you tell Seokjin your sentiments, and that he should have his phone on hand in case you needed him. With a confused nod, you leave him to go down to the garden.

The groomsmen and bridesmaids are already at the chapel taking pictures. Only the wedding party is really allowed at this time, but you manage your way through the gardens virtually undetected. Jungkook’s already waiting for you, hiding under a white gazebo overlooking the hotel’s fountain.

He looks gorgeous in his all black pinstripe suit, hair pushed back and pants fitted perfectly around his waist and thighs. When he sees you he gets up, full of skittish energy. You note that his hair isn’t even styled, only washed and curling slightly at the ends, as if he’s in a rush.

“W-wow,” he marvels when you rush up to him, “you look gorgeous.”

You drop the handful of silver tulle, letting it fall to the floor. “Jungkook,” you clasp his hand in both of his, guilt flooding your eyes. You’ve been thinking about this all morning, and you need to cut to the chase. Jungkook tries to open his mouth but you silence him with a finger on his lips. “I can’t—I can’t do this. I know this sounds really stupid and you probably don’t want anything to do with me after this, but I shouldn’t have made this elaborate scheme,” you bite your lip, feeling even more antsy as Jungkook squirms in his grip. He however, is trying very hard to focus with his eyes, confused at your sudden confession. “I like you, Jungkook. I don’t want to parade you around like a revenge plot anymore, it isn’t fair and it’s wrong in so many ways—”

“That’s great,” he says simply, brown eyes swirling with thoughts, “um, ditto. But—”

“Wow,” you frown, “I pour my heart out to you and this is what I get?”

“It’s great that you want to be selfless right now,” Jungkook takes your hand, firm and tight, “but without this elaborate scheme, we wouldn’t be saving asses like we are right now.”

“What are you talking about?” You thought Jungkook rushed you down here so you could talk about each other’s feelings before the wedding.

“Doyeon just threw herself on me last night. I got her ice and she took that as an invitation to seduce me like an episode of Sex and the City. Namjoon needs to divorce her, like yesterday.”

Your face then morphs into something dark and ugly, and you fling your whole confession out the window. The thought of Doyeon going as far as throwing herself on Jungkook as a last ditch attempt to get back at you, has you seeing blood red. “What? Why didn’t you tell me this sooner!”

“You were asleep!” he shoots back, putting his hands on your shoulders. He rubs warm strokes up and down your bare arms, “please relax. You’re shaking.”

“And why didn’t you tell Namjoon when you were driving around all morning?”

“I tried to!” he retorts, hands swinging in the air. You huff when his hands land back on your shoulders, preventing you from running to the chapel to extract Doyeon out yourself, “but he just kept talking shit about how much he loves Doyeon and he can’t imagine being together with anyone but her and I felt so bad! I’m sorry I chickened out. I really don’t wanna be the one to break Namjoon’s heart. I’m just the plus one!”

You pinch your brows, mulling it over. “Fuck it, let’s crash a wedding,” you declare, “where’s Namjoon and how can we get him alone?”

Jungkook exhales, a hand carding up to loosen his thin silver tie. “He’s taking pictures with the groomsmen right now. It’s gonna be awhile before we get a chance to talk.”

“Fuck,” you curse, sitting down on the white bench. Jungkook presses soothing circles on your back. “We have no choice, we have to get to him before the ceremony starts.”

“You’ll have to get through me, first.”

Doyeon’s not even in her wedding dress when she strides up to the two of you. She’s in ballet flats with her hair and makeup done, but the only thing she’s wearing is the thin underdress of her actual ball gown, a simple silk negligee that reaches her ankles. You don’t even know how she’s managed to escape the bridal party, especially without her dress.

Feeling protective, you step in front of Jungkook. “Before you say anything,” you murmur, “I’m not ruining your wedding, and I never wanted to. You’re ruining it because of your mistakes.”

“Oh, boo-hoo,” Doyeon rolls her eyes, playing with her nails, “I didn’t even do anything wrong, everyone knows that on the bachelorette’s night she can do whatever she wants. Namjoon could’ve fucked whoever too if he wasn’t so faithful.”

“Namjoon is ten times the partner you are and would never do that,” You’re seeing red, unable to comprehend the complete garbage spilling from Doyeon’s lips. “You touched my boyfriend without his consent, and I will never forgive you for that,” your voice is scarlet, angry and thin.

“It’s not like he isn’t used to it, I—”

“NO!” the sound that comes out of your mouth has all three of you flinching, and you’re thankful the gazebo is far enough so that the rest of the wedding party is oblivious to your actions. “You’re not allowed to justify yourself anymore, Doyeon. What you did was fucked up, what you’ve done to all of us is fucked up!” You realize now that you didn’t need to get back at Doyeon with a fake date, what you needed was this. You needed a reprieve, a chance to lay down your law. “Jungkook was right all along. You are jealous. You’re jealous and selfish and have no shame. You think you own whatever you set your eyes on, but you’re wrong. We’re not objects, we’re people.”

You walk up to Doyeon, eye to eye. You jab a hand at her chest, pushing her back slightly. You soak up your cousin’s expression, and you watch as Doyeon’s eyes pop out in surprise at your act of boldness. “So you have a choice here. You can either swallow your pride and leave Namjoon at the aisle quietly and save whatever dignity you have left. Take your pathetic ass on the next flight back home and pack up your apartment. Or, we can start a big scene at your ceremony,” you probably look manic, filled with freshly injected power, “I know Seokin’s always wanted to yell ‘I object!’ at a wedding.”

“You have no proof,” Doyeon glares right back, taking a step closer to you. Your noses are practically touching, but you dig your heels in the white-stained wood, puffing up your chest and standing your ground.

“Doesn’t matter,” you bite back, “what matters is that Namjoon will doubt you. Namjoon knows we’d never do anything to sabotage a wedding without a valid reason. Even if you do get married tonight, we have Jungkook’s word and proof of a relationship that overlaps with his. I find this option to be far worse because it’s prolonging the inevitable,” you shrug, “I hope you two didn’t sign a prenup.”

Hot, angry tears mess up her meticulously done makeup. Black rivers carve through her porcelain skin, showing the feelings that have been dormant since been hidden under a facade. Doyeon’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of you. She’s practically vibrating in combined fear and rage, seeing blurry images and memories and regrets of what could’ve been if not for her self-absorption. And finally, your cousin comes to a decision.

“I hate you,” she emphasizes each word with the most concentrated of venoms in her tone. WIth one last look at the two of you, she stomps away. Instead of going to the direction of the chapel however, she takes the shortcut back to the hotel.

Her grave words are unsurprising, but nevertheless disappointing. A thinly veiled smile grazes your lips, sadder than ever as you watch your cousin go. “And I pity you.”

As soon as she’s gone Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up, hugging you tightly as you fight the urge to cry again. “Oh babe, that was really hot. The way you stood your ground? That was amazing!” Jungkook takes out his silver pocket square to wipe the stray tears that threaten to ruin your makeup. “You’re so strong, don’t you know that? You did it and I’m so proud of you.”

As much as you want to revel in the affection, go back and bed and fall asleep until noon, you can’t. Grasping Jungkook by the hand, you tug him to the chapel. “C’mon,” you say, “we have to corner Namjoon.”

The groomsmen photos are done by the time you get there. Thankfully, the to-be-groom doesn’t look too occupied. His eyes widen upon seeing you two stumble from the garden of all places.

“Oh, y/n. Jungkook,” Namjoon tilts his head curiously at how winded you two look, equally flushed and out of breath. From your state, Namjoon muses that it must've taken a lot of effort to finally get to the groom unattended, save for a few random family members he’s making small talk with, “The wedding isn’t for another hour but I must say, you two look radiant together. Doyeon always thought you’d end up an old spinster-catlady, but I always told her that you’re too beautiful to be single for long,” he pauses to send the aforementioned man a wink, “Jungkook’s a lucky guy. What were you two doing back there?”

“Uh, things?” Jungkook scratches the back of his head, not wanting to reiterate the fiasco between Doyeon moments before.

Namjoon smirks at the ebony-haired man, “Couple things?”

You can’t take this needless small talk anymore. With a teary groan, you throw yourself at Namjoon. You hug him tight, and you don’t even care when you feel a slosh of his water bottle sprinkle your hairstyle.

“Joonie,” you bemoan, “please, please don’t leave me. You’re the best not-cousin ever. I know it’ll be a pain to face Doyeon after today but you’re a strong independent man and when you’re ready Jin is single and ready to mingle—ow! Jungkook! Did you just pinch my ass?”

“Do you really think setting him up with the next cousin is the best idea right now?”

“I figured a little humor would lighten the blow,” you sulk.

“I’m sorry what—what blow?” Namjoon frowns, pushing you away from him. “Y/n, have you been crying?”

The tears resurface at that moment, like a kettle on overboil. Namjoon’s face is knitted together, unable to grasp at any conclusion. Namjoon feels something grave is upon the sky as he tenderly brushes away your tears with his thumbs before releasing you. Instantly Jungkook pulls you to his chest, patting you soothingly. As much as you two do not want to be the bearer of bad news, the time is now.

“Namjoon,” Jungkook says, finding the strength that was previously stuck in his throat, “we have to tell you something.”

Needless to say, Las Vegas is very forgiving when it comes to last minute wedding cancellations.

The whole wedding party, both Namjoon and yours, collectively feels like a whole ice bucket has been dumped upon your families. You would like to say that the whole issue was handled mess free, but that would be a bald-faced lie.

There was screaming, crying, hysterical laughter from all sides. Doyeon’s parents were of course furious, embarrassed, unable to calm down a hysterical Doyeon as they haul her on the next flight home. You have a feeling they won’t be showing up to family events anytime soon.

Namjoon’s family leaves quietly, frustrated, but classy. After all, they know at the back of their heads they dodged a bullet. Everyone leaves except Namjoon however, who isn’t quite ready to go back to his and Doyeon’s apartment. Namjoon invites Seokjin and some other close cousins to stay in his suite until their flight tomorrow afternoon, wanting to be surrounded by close friends and (almost) family.

As for your family, they decide to find the silver lining. While the chapel was able to cancel the wedding, the reception wasn’t as easy to sway. At the very last second, your grandparents decided to make use of the reception and renew their Golden Anniversary vows instead. The ceremony will be a quick, sweet affair. At this very moment, your cousin Yoongi is getting officiated online.

And for you? You’re in the place where you’ve wanted to remain all week. A fluffy hotel bed wrapped up with your not-boyfriend.

Or?

Would a not-boyfriend be snuggling against your chest like you’re the softest teddy bear in the toy shop? Would a not-boyfriend be hooking your leg atop his lap, forcing you to latch onto him so his hands can roam freely against your soft thighs?

“We have to get ready for the wedding,” you whine against his hold, to no avail when he only holds you tighter.

“But your grandparents are already married,” Jungkook whines right back, nuzzling his nose in your head. “This is like an afterparty fifty years later.”

“I wanna get dressed,” you insist, pushing yourself up, “and we still need to talk.”

Without Seokjin staying with you, the hotel room feels much bigger and freer for the two of you. Your clothes are scattered on the floor, uncaring of any wrinkles or smears that would get on the delicate fabric.

All that matters is that Jungkook is still here with you. Doyeon’s wedding is called off, but he’s still lying in bed with you. You want to burn this image to memory, and keep it forever. Jungkook laying in only his white undershirt and boxers, looking at you dreamily as if he’s still in nap-mode. Hair that was previously windswept and exposing his forehead is now out of place, fluffy and sticking out in all directions. His cheeks are flushed with coral-colored warmth, and a little puffy because you two have been sleeping most of the afternoon.

“Right, talk,” he repeats, letting you hand him his black button up so he can clothe himself.

You throw off your shirt somewhere behind you, not wanting to face him as you walk to the full-length mirror. “So, I think my feelings for you are pretty clear and out in the open…”

“Same, I think I made it pretty clear as well.”

“What? You turn around, looking at where he’s still half-covered in bed. “You did not. I distinctly remember almost confessing my love to you last night. And then this morning, only for you to cut me off and say ‘that’s great’.”

“Oh,” he stares at the white sheets that cover his lower half. “I guess I didn’t then.”

You smile wryly, turning back to face the mirror so you can slip into your dress that’s been pooled around your ankles like a silver halo. “Maybe you thought it in your mind and forgot to tell me.”

That seems about right. Jungkook has a tendency to be a little too passionate for his own good, windswept in thoughts and feelings until they consume him. He hops out of bed, walking only in his dress shirt and socks as he makes his way to the mirror. “Then let me do all the talking,” he says softly against your neck, hands on your hips.

You shiver when you feel the cold silver of the zipper whirr up your body, Jungkook’s large hands splaying across your back to smooth out the waistline.

“You of all people would know that being with Doyeon is a trip,” he chuckles into the crook of your neck, “I thought that was what love felt like. Being codependent, jumping through hurdles, trying so hard to please someone who can’t be pleased.”

Jungkook’s hands wrap around your waist, hugging you tightly. He squeezes you and holds you like the most precious thing in the entire world. Through the mirror, you two are quite a pair.

“But with you, I never knew love could be like this, feel like this.”

“So… are you saying you love me?” you fight the urge to bounce around in his grip, the biggest smile on your face.

“You really just want me to say ‘I love you’ and be done with it, huh?”

Within seconds he’s pulling you from behind, whirling you around to the edge of the bed. He manages to flouce up your skirts to billow around his lap, sitting you down on his bare thighs.

“You look like a cupcake, all sprawled up like this,” Jungkook says cutely, peppering kisses in a trail from your chest all the way to your lips. “You look like a huge, silvery cupcake and I love you. It’s so easy to love you.”

Maybe it was kismet that Jungkook didn’t get to you first all those years ago. Maybe the right time is right here, right now.

“I love you, too,” you say happily, dipping down to press a long, passionate kiss to his lips. He tastes like love and a happy future. When you pull away, you encapsulate his face in both your palms, regarding him like the sun and stars. “But you know, if we date you’ll never get away from my crazy family.”

Jungkook snorts, pressing his forehead to yours, “And miss Yoongi re-marrying off your grandparents tonight, the next year of Seokjin and Namjoon running circles around each other, and a lifetime of happiness?” his hands snake under your dress, finding purchase in your soft skin, “not a chance.”

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

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imaginationofacrazyfangirl · 4 years ago

Text

{Metanoia}

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader, Older brother! Jimin x Reader, Hoseok x reader

*8k- ongoing

Genre: Enemies to lovers, childhood friends, major misunderstandings

Warnings: Thigh riding, Fingering, Oral (male receiving)

Summary: The first time you meet Jungkook, he pushes you off the slide. Second time he calls you ugly. After that things continue spiraling downwards: he cuts your dolls’ heads off, tells everyone you’re a freak at school, spreads malicious rumors; Jungkook’s sole purpose in life is tormenting you. So why five years later is he insisting you two belong together?

Based on a prompt request by @bangtaened-army turned fic. Sorry bangtaened-army for the wait, and the fact that I still haven’t touched the original requested prompt..

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"I can't believe you would do this to me, Jiminie. After everything I have ever done for you. " you hiss into the phone. Your low voice does little not to garner the nosy looks of other people awaiting their luggage. Despite it being two am at an airport people never tired of drama, and you plotting the murder of your older brother could feed a whole TV show. See Jimin was supposed to pick you at the baggage claim. Keywords supposed to. However, instead of being greeted by your annoying yet lovable sibling you were greeted by someone just plain annoying.

"You're being dramatic, (Y/N). I sent Jungkook to pick you up, not Ted Bundy." Jimin replies dryly. Even through the phone you can tell he is rolling his eyes at you. He never understood your hatred towards Jungkook. To him, the dark haired boy is a sweet innocent boy who could do no wrong but you know better. The devil lives inside Jungkook.

"I would've preferred the serial killer. At least he'd be less of an ass-" Jungkook grabs the phone from your hand purposely shifting away so you can't take it back. Not that it makes much difference. Even if he was facing you, you would have to jump to reach him. "Hey man, it's me. Yeah, I know she's a pain but I'll bring her home. No don't worry about it I'm used to it by now. "

You roll your eyes at this. "Used to it by now," once again everyone sees you as the problem, not Jungkook. Forget the fact he tortured you all throughout childhood. Or that he's the reason everyone bullied you throughout high school. "Here, you going to behave now or throw another tantrum?" Jungkook asks, hanging back your phone.

Immediately you snatch it from his hands clutching it close to your chest. "Never take my phone out of my hand again. You hear me, Jeon?!"

"Then stop acting like a child and we won't have a problem." Jungkook snarks, arms folded over his chest as he looked down upon you as a parent would.

"Fuck you, Jeon! I'll find my own way home." You snap spinning around on your heels.

However before you can even take a step, caveman Jungkook throws you over his shoulders. He smacks your ass undoubtedly grinning as he does so. "Alright princess, enough playing. I promised your family to drive you home safely and I'm going to do just that. "

"You heathen! Let me down!" You pound against his back to no avail. He merely hits your butt again continuing to walk through the airport without a care. Seriously where did airport security go? Aren't they supposed to be on alert for kidnappers or something?

Apparently not because Jungkook strolls straight past a guard twiddling his thumbs. "Seriously?! Way to keep Korea safe man. I'm being kidnapped before your eyes here, dumbass."

The guard shoots Jungkook and you a questioning look, clearly unamused by you calling him ‘dumbass.’ Jungkook lets out a nervous laugh, bowing apologetically towards the guard. His grip on you not slipping for even a second. "Sorry she's drunk. Please ignore her."

The guard nods. "Best get her out of here or I'll have to detain her for drunken disorder."

"Will do. Thanks."

"I am not drunk-" you start only Jungkook to hit you yet again hard. You yelp face turning red as the guard laughs. "I swear to God I will murder you. "

"Do you want security to detain you? Because I'm pretty sure you'll be flagged as a flight hazard and stuck in Korea forever. "

Just the mere thought sends shivers down your spine. "No, thank you. "

"Didn't think so. " Jungkook replies. He carries you all the way to his car parked in the visitors' center. Not even letting you go as he climbed the three flights of stairs to get there. Undoubtedly he guessed-and correctly so- you'd run the second he let his guard down. Even when he sets you down to open his car door one hand remains firmly wrapped around your wrist.

You sigh loudly. "Isn't this a little overkill? We're at your car now."

"Sit." He merely says, pointing at the seat.

Tossing him a glare you do as told. Despite your previous bravado you know full well Jungkook is right, he is your only way home. Taxis are too expensive, and the rideshare apps went nowhere near your home. As much as you don’t want to admit it, Jungkook’s won this round. Still that doesn’t warrant the victorious grin on Jungkook’s face or the added salt of him reaching over to buckle your belt. "Overkill. Utter overkill. "

"Got to keep the princess safe don't I?" he says sweetly.

You cringe. "Enough with the princess stuff. You know I hate that. "

“You didn’t hate it when you were riding my dick last time you came home.” Jungkook mentions, sliding into the driver’s seat beside you. Heat rises to your cheeks at the memory of your last visit: Jungkook’s large hands gripping your waist as you fucked him in the backseat of his car. His hot breath against your ear whispering dirty things that would make a porn star blush. That feeling of your toes curling as he hits the right spot-

You shake the memory away. Fucking Jungkook was a mistake. It should’ve never happened. “That was a one time thing, Jeon. I was vulnerable last time. I just got out of a three year relationship-”

“And you just happened to fall on my dick several times.” Jungkook snorts. His tone stays calm but you can see how his knuckles whitened gripping the steering wheel. “Look you can make all the excuses you want, but it doesn’t change what happened between us. We had sex. Good sex if I might add.”

“Great sex.” You admit. “But that’s all.”

As great as Jungkook and you were together, you couldn’t let yourself fall into his trap again. The dark haired boy bullied you for years. He made you cry countless times. Great sex didn’t change anything. Not when you know Jungkook would hurt you in the end. Neither of you speak as Jungkook pulls out of the parking lot. Whatever conversation you have ends like it always does in harsh words. So for the next hour and a half you stare out the window contemplating your life until your eyes close shut.

It’s not until a door slams that you open them again. Half awake you can barely make out the familiar street lights of your neighborhood hanging above, or the equally memorable

houses of it surrounding you. Your car door opens to reveal a haggard Jungkook. He leans over unbuckling you without a word. His soft lush hair tickles your skin as he struggles to get you free. You reach out to comb your fingers through it.

“Are we here?” you mumble, entranced by the silky feel of his hair. “Do we need to get out?”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, we’re here. Go back to sleep princess. I got it.”

You yawn barely comprehending as an arm slides underneath your knees. “Okay, but only if you’re sure.”

Closing your eyes again you miss Jungkook’s soft whisper of, ‘I’m sure.’

-----

Sunlight hits your face chasing away your dreamless sleep. Your eyes open slowly, greeted by the harshness of lavender colored walls filled with high school photos and cringey boy band posters from way back in the day. Nothing about your bedroom has changed moving out all those years ago. Everything stayed exactly the same from when you were a teenager. Dreadfully so unfortunately.

Groaning you stretch trying to remember how you got into bed. Last thing you remember is asking Jungkook if you were home as he unclipped your seatbelt, so you had to have gotten up. You must’ve been so tired nothing really processed. A thirteen hour flight would do that to you after all. “Look what the cat dragged in. I see you survived the car ride with Jungkook alright.” Jimin grins, standing in the doorway of your room.

You toss a pillow at him only to miss. “Barely. Seriously what were you thinking having him pick me up? You know how I feel about him.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “I was thinking I have work the next day, and that Jungkook is the only guy I trust to pick up my little sister. Because not only would he keep her safe, but he’s the type of guy to carry her inside when she’s passed out.”

Your mouth dried. “What?”

“I said Jungkook carried your ungrateful ass inside.”

Suddenly the memory of Jungkook carrying you in comes to mind. His strong arms wrapped around you as your fingers buried themselves into his shirt. You were only half awake, but you remember everything from the way his cologne smelt to the soft beat of his heart lulling you back to sleep. ‘Sweet dreams princess.’

“No way. He hates me-besides I’m wearing pajamas!” You protest.

Jimin sighs. “Yeah. That I may have punched him for doing, but (Y/N), Kook doesn’t hate you. Trust me, that boy couldn’t hate you if he tried.”

“I don’t believe you.” How could you? The first day you ever met Jungkook he kicked you off the slide causing you to scrape your knees. Second time you two met he called you ugly before running off to play with Jimin. After that things got worse, from destroying your barbies, putting kick me signs on you, spreading rumors about you in high school, to telling your crush you were a slut. If those weren’t the actions of a boy who hates you, then you don’t know what is.

Jimin murmurs something about ‘misunderstandings’ under his breath, but doesn’t clarify. Instead he simply says. “Look, think what you want, but Jungkook spent the night yesterday since he was too tired to drive home. So be nice okay?”

“Whatever.” you reply, not mentioning the fact he lives down the road. Just this once you’d behave. After all, he did carry you home.

Jimin smiles, tossing the pillow back. Naturally it hits you right square in the face. "Good girl. Now get dressed. The last thing I need to see is my best friend eyeing up my little sister. "

You let out a silent curse, but do as told. Honestly it really didn't matter. When you lived at home you walked around in yoga pants while braless all the time, Jungkook be damned. This was your house and you refused to give up comfort because your brother's friend came over. It drove Jimin insane. To the point he'd throw random items until you either changed or returned to your room. However that was ages ago before Jungkook ever saw you naked or bent you over the counter of his kitchen.

“Stop it.” You slap yourself. “Thinking about it will do you no good.”

Unfortunately the pep talk does little to stop the wanting ache between your legs. Jungkook is the last person you slept with since breaking up with your ex. After you returned to America the last time you simply threw yourself into work, barely sparing a glance at the opposite gender. “Fuck. You need to get laid, (Y/N). Preferably not by Jeon this time.” you whispers.

-----

Breakfast is an interesting affair. Like always your parents and brother treat Jungkook as if he's part of the family, your mother piles food onto his plate while your father and Jimin discuss the latest sports and news trends with him. Occasionally one of your parents will praise Jungkook on something he did, mentioning how proud they are of him to which Jungkook eats up like a starving man at a feast.

Meanwhile you play around with your rice ignoring the sour feeling of getting ignored by your own family. After all, it's not like you lived out of the country and only came home once in a blue moon. So what did it matter if your childhood enemy ate up all your attention? "Thank you again, Jungkook, for bringing (Y/N) home. I know how much of a pain she can be to you. " your mother says.

Jungkook grins, the sun practically illuminating him from behind as he tactfully shrugs off the gratitude with a, 'It's no problem, Mom.' His butter wouldn't melt in my mouth routine sickens you to the point you want to vomit.

"I would've been perfectly fine finding my own ride home. " You mumble indignantly.

The comment earns you a sharp whack on the head by your mother's slipper. "The words are, 'thank you, Jungkook. ' I swear I don't know how I raised such an ungrateful daughter. "

You roll your eyes, swallowing the comment about her shitty parenting skills. "I mean how are you ever going to find a husband with that bad attitude of yours?" She laments, projecting into her usual rant of marriage and grandchildren.

Like always you ignore it taking the few blows to the head she gave whenever ranting about your marital future. Besides you, Jimin snickers enjoying your torment, having been born a boy he's safe from your mother's wrath since 'no girl is good enough for my precious Jimmie.' Thankfully your father has an ounce of sympathy left for you. "She's doing fine, hunny. (Y/N) has a good home and a steady job-"

"You're too soft on her! That's why she's like this. " your mother dismisses. "I mean what man would fall for a woman with such an ugly personality?"

Your heart gives a painful squeeze at her words, while such speech is common with your mother that doesn't make it hurt any less. "Actually I know someone who'd be interested in going out with (Y/N)." Jungkook pipes up, a big grin stretching across his face.

You shoot him a warning glare to which he shrugs off. A surprise gasp- that is way too exaggerated in your opinion- escapes your mom, she looks at Jungkook as if he hung the moon. "Oh Jungkook, that would be wonderful. But we ask you to risk your friendship like that."

"I promise you're not. This guy has loved- liked (Y/N) for a long time. He knows what she's like. " Jungkook waves off.

"Really? Who?" your dad asks, causing you to frown. Why does everyone think you are so unlovable? Seriously you are starting to get insulted, although you also question Jungkook and his 'friend. '

Jimin snorts, giving Jungkook a weird look. "Yes Jungkook, who is this mysterious guy madly in love with my sister?"

The tips of Jungkook's ears turn red and he ducks his head sheepishly, probably not expecting Jimin to call him out on his bluff. "What does it matter? A man is interested in our (Y/N)! All my prayers are answered!" Your mom cries, saving Jungkook from whatever bullshit he is about to spout. "Oh Jungkook, you're so wonderful. Any mother would be lucky to have you."

"Hey!" Jimin protests, earning a string of reassurances and praises from your mother. For a man who prided himself on his cool nature, Jimin was a mama's boy.

"I'm going to get started on the dishes. " you sigh, collecting the empty plates. As much as you love your family there's only so much one can take of them, hence moving to America.

"I'll help." Jungkook says, quickly gathering the dishes from your hand. Without another word he disappears into the kitchen like a little boy eager to impress his mom or in this case your mom; it adds to your rising irritation. You don't know what his game is, but if Jungkook thinks he can pull a fast one on you, he'll be sorely surprised.

You enter the kitchen to find Jungkook already washing the dishes, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up displaying his smooth muscular arms. Your eyes roam over them taking in the tattoos littered on his tan skin; he had gotten more since you last saw him, practically a full sleeve now. They look good on him not that you would ever admit it. "Hey, I wash, you dry?" Jungkook offers, throwing a towel your way.

You frown. "I got it. Go back to the table."

Jungkook scoffs. "Seriously? You would rather do dishes- which you hate doing- then spend five minutes with me?"

"Oh don't try to guilt trip me, Jeon. That whole 'I know someone who likes (Y/N),' what utter bullshit. " you snap. "Tell me, were you going to laugh when I arrived at some restaurant only and no one comes?"

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “You really need to see someone about this paranoia issue of yours, because this is beginning to get ridiculous.”

“Excuse me? Paranoid? You bullied me all my life-"

"I pushed down the slide when we were four. Get over it."

"You cut off my barbies' head! Repeatedly called me ugly. Spread rumors about me in high school, and to top the cherry off you told Hoseok, I was a slut. So no I won't get over it." You stomp your foot.

Jungkook clenches his jaw, the cup in his hand practically cracking under his grip. He says nothing, dropping the cup and sponge into the sink, before storming out like a madman.From the living room your parents call out Jungkook's name only for him to ignore them. The front door slams shut shaking the house so hard that the dishes tremble in their drying rack.

"What happened to being nice to Jungkook?" Jimin's voice surprises you from behind. Disappointment is written all over his face, and the way his body positions itself (arms crossed, legs parted) tells you, you're in for a lecture.

You turn away not in the mood to be parented by someone two years your senior. Especially not when he allots Jungkook to bully you without a single reprimand. "He started it. Telling mom he'd set me up with some imaginary guy only to laugh when I get 'stood up."

Jimin groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You two are killing me. Look I can't spell it out for you, that is Jungkook's business, so I am just going to say this...I destroyed your barbies not Jungkook. "

You froze. "What?"

"I cut off Minnie's, Hana's and Lany's heads. You pissed me off by eating my snack. I wanted revenge." Jimin shrugged.

"B-but I caught Jungkook red handed! I saw him with Minnie's head!"

A sheepish look grew on his face. He tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, a habit he did whenever nervous. "Yeah, he was trying to fix her. "

The dish in your hands drops shattering against the kitchen floor. Your mouth opens but no words come out; funny seeing how thousands of thoughts run through your head. "You asshole!"

Jimin winces. "Sorry. It was a dick move- but my point is you thought Jungkook did it and he didn't. So isn't it possible you are wrong about everything else?”

------

You spend the next few days wandering around town bored. While you feel grateful to be home and see everyone you love, the list of things to do in your town is actually quite small compared to home ( perks of living in a small town). Outside of grocery shopping with your mom, reading on the veranda with your father, and bugging Jimin whenever possible, there’s not much to do. Things are especially boring since Jungkook disappeared after that morning. The bunny looking boy normally makes it his personal mission to bother you as much as possible. Disregarding the few hours he has to work, Jungkook always was there first thing in the morning to laugh at your ridiculous bed head. Yet for the last few days he’s been nowhere in sight. When asked about it Jimin merely shrugged saying he was busy, before smirking and stating unnecessarily, “If you miss him that much, why don’t you call him yourself?”

It isn’t that you miss Jungkook, despite what Jimin said about your Barbie dolls, you still believe deep down he hates you. After all just because you were wrong about one thing didn’t mean you were wrong about everything else. No, you asked Jimin, because it’s unusual given that the boy practically lived at your home. It’s not like you actually miss his stupid face over something. Perhaps if you had more friends this boredom wouldn’t be an issue. Sadly you weren’t much of a social butterfly back in high school; unlike Jimin who was part of the “popular” crowd, you were an outcast. As much as you tried, the only people who would hangout with you were Jimin’s friends.

At first you thought it was something you did, but later you found out Jungkook told everyone you were a ‘freak of nature,’ and it was only because he and the others felt bad that they hung around you. Hearing what he said devastated you. It was the first time you realized how much Jungkook hated you. Moreover his words stopped you from ever really trusting anyone who wanted to be friends.

“Isn’t it possible you are wrong about everything else?”

Pushing the thought back you try to ignore the nagging feeling growing inside birthed by your brother’s words. You fucking doubt it. How could something like that be so easily explained away? “I think this is your fifth lap around town.” a familiar voice calls out, snapping you back to reality. “People are beginning to think you’re a weirdo.”

You don’t even have to look up to tell who it is. On this planet only one person owns a voice so annoying it instantaneously grates on your nerves. “Get lost, Jeon. I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

He snorts, continuing to follow you in his car. “You know it’s supposed to storm today right? You should head home before it pours.”

“Like I said: No One Asked You, Jeon.” you reply, promptly turning on your heels to head in the opposite direction. He’s the last person you want to see given your current thoughts. Whatever longing you might’ve previously had for him disappeared the moment you remembered why Jungkook was your enemy. Thankfully he doesn’t follow most likely finding something more interesting to waste his time on.

You continue walking onwards too infuriated by the past to notice the dark clouds starting to form above. It’s not until something wet hits your skin that you take notice of the sudden drop in temperature and gathering winds. “Fuck.” you hiss feeling another raindrop.

Of course Jungkook would be right. The universe just fucking loved him like everyone else did. You get stuck with the short end though: running in the rain searching for shelter, only for you to naturally find yourself in the part of town empty of all businesses. “Perhaps I can stand under a tree until it calms down.”

Lightning flashes across the sky followed by a loud BOOM of thunder making you jump. A small sob escapes your lips as you subconsciously curl yourself into a ball. Thunder always scares you no matter how old you get. “I’m not here. I’m not here.” you whisper, rocking on balls of your feet.

However the deafening sounds of thunder destroys any hopes of pretending to be elsewhere. So you curl tighter into a ball praying for it all to stop. Overwhelmed with fear you don’t process the feel of someone’s jacket draping over you or the angry voice of Jungkook saying, “I told you to go home.”

It’s not until he yet again scoops you into his arms that you snap from your trance. You watch shocked as he carries you to the car. Through the rain and lightning he looks nothing like the boy you remember. Instead...he looks like a man you could very well fall in love with.

“Jung...Jungkook” You mumble, gripping his shirt as he sets you down into the passenger seat. He looks up at you in a mixture of curiosity and surprise. Neither of you can remember the last time you called him by his first name. It’s always been Jeon never Jungkook. “Thank you....”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jungkook replies, shutting the car door. He walks over to the driver’s side sliding easily into it.

Now clear from the rain you can make out how drench he really is: hair soaked, clothes sticking to his skin, it makes you all too aware of the jacket covering you. Reluctantly you shrug it from your shoulders missing the comforting weight of it almost immediately. “Here. This is yours. You should wear it.”

Jungkook glares. “Keep it.

“No. It’s yours. You must be freezing without it-”

“I said keep it! God damn it, (Y/N). Why can’t you listen for once?” he snaps, hitting the steering wheel. You recoil taken back by his outburst. Never have you seen Jungkook so angry. At most Jungkook stormed off or glared whenever mad at you, never did he raise his voice at you. "I told you to go home. I told you it was going to storm but you didn’t listen."

"I'm sorry…"

"You don't get it. You could've gotten sick if I didn't find you in time. Or worse you could have gotten hurt…"

"Oh." You reply, unsure what to say. Worrying about you wasn't something you expected from Jungkook, but it strikes a painful chord within you. Your heart should be warmed by the thought instead a painful sinking feeling fills it. Suddenly you want nothing more than to burst into tears. “You were worried?”

Jungkook lets out a long tired sigh. "Of course I was worried. You’ve been terrified of thunder storms since we were five, why wouldn’t I worry about you being out in one?”

‘Trust me, that boy couldn’t hate you if he tried.’ Jimin’s words ring in your ears. ‘My point is you thought Jungkook did it and he didn't. So isn't it possible you are wrong about everything else?’

Could Jimin be right? Is everything you thought one big misunderstanding? You were so sure of Jungkook’s guilt previously, but now...you couldn’t picture him as the sinister bully you’ve known all your life. “I’m sorry. I should’ve listened and turned around.” you admit, “I’m so used to chalkin everything you say off as meaningless teasing, I didn’t consider you actually meant well.”

“You never do.” Jungkook huffs. For a second you swear you can see pain fill his dark bambi eyes as he looks at you. It is an expression you’ve never seen on his face before, a look of hurt and dejection. Again your heart twists painfully in your chest. “You always assume I’m out to get you, when really I’m just trying to be nice. I mean sure I tease and joke around with you, but (Y/N), I would never purposefully hurt you. I know you don’t believe me-”

“Okay. I believe you.”

Jungkook’s foot slips hitting the break. The car lurches forward causing you both to nearly hit your heads on the dashboard. His head snaps in your direction so fast it practically gives you whiplash. “What? What did you say?”

Around you, cars honk aggravated by the standstill in the middle of traffic; you don’t care though. All you care about right now is the look of disbelief, shock, and hope marring Jungkook’s beautiful face. In that moment you realize how little you care about the truth. It’s unexplainable the sudden urge to move on from your prior hate, but you want to...you want to believe Jungkook is a good guy. “I believe you, Jungkook.” you swallow hard. “And I’m sorry for being such a bitch to you. So please forgive me.”

You don’t know what you expected Jungkook’s reaction to be, however it certainly wasn’t this. “I’ll think about it.”

If not for the sudden smirk pulling at his lips, you would’ve felt horrible. Instead you feel infuriated. “You asshole. I take it back. I’m not sorry. You hear me?! Not sorry!”

Jungkook merely laughs, shaking his head. “No backsies remember, (Y/N)? You can’t take it back.”

You glower remembering the childish rule Jimin, Jungkook and you made up in elementary school. It was to keep each other from ducking out of any dares or promises made, and apparently apologies now. “I hate you.”

Jungkook laughs harder. “I’m sure you do. Let’s go home, huh? I’ll make you hot chocolate if you behave.”

“I always behave.” You mutter, rolling your eyes. A second passes. “There better be whipped cream and marshmallows with that.”

“Anything you want princess. Anything you want.”

----------------------------------------------

You wonder if it’s creepy to find Jungkook so attractive while wearing your brother’s clothings. On Jimin, this grey sweatpants and hoodie combo makes him look like a homeless man, but on Jungkook, it has your mouth practically watering. The normally baggy material conforms perfectly to his body hiding nothing to the imagination. You see every curve, groove, muscle and bone (especially a certain large one in the middle of his sweats) in this boy’s body, and then to make things even worse you catch a sliver of tan skin anytime Jungkook raises his arms. Beautiful tan skin whose tantalizing taste and feel plagues your mind.

Suddenly you regret not putting up a fight about Jungkook coming over. Sure he was soaking wet from giving you his jacket, however Jungkook also lived down the street from you-he didn’t have to change into Jimin’s clothes. “Do you know if the dryer’s free?” Jungkook asks, lifting up said bundle of drenched clothes.

“Ummm, yeah I believe so. You want me to put them up for you?” you offer, trying not to stare. Although things are technically supposed to be cool between you guys now, they’re not. Years of mistrust and hatred don’t simply vanish after an apology or sudden decision to forgive, instead the emotions built between you two need to be sorted through and really only time could do that. Which is why you try super hard not to let lust takeover and destroy the fragile truce recently made.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Thanks, but I can manage."

You nod not knowing what else to say. Again his lips twist in that disgusting smirk you so despise, this time paired with a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon enough for your ogling pleasure.”

Quickly you look away, “Who’s ogling who, Jeon? Cause it’s certainly not me.”

“Oh really?” Jungkook says, cocking an eyebrow. He steps forward caging you against the wall. Something dangerous gleams within those large eyes of his as Jungkook stares down at you with a ravenous look. Shivers run down your spine sending a delicious shock through your body. “That’s too bad, because I was definitely ogling you, princess. Seeing you wear this oversized shirt gives me sooo many ideas.”

You swallow hard, licking your suddenly dry lips. “Stop joking around. You and I know there’s nothing sexy about this shirt.”

“I disagree. Believe it or not, I find girls sexiest when they’re comfortable with themselves. All that lace and lingerie is nice, but nothing is hotter than a girl wearing my shirt and nothing else.” Jungkook admits. “It brings out the territorial side in me.”

Your brows crease. “That makes sense I guess, but this isn’t your shirt. It’s Jimin’s-”

“Mine. I left it here one night after sleeping over Junior year. “ he explains. “You stole it from Jimin’s drawer thinking it was his.”

“Oh….sorry. I’ll give it back.” Despair fills you at the thought. This is your favorite shirt regardless of it being a plain white t-shirt, it always makes you feel safe and comfy when wearing it as odd as it sounds. However you can’t afford to disrupt the newfound civialty between Jungkook and you.

Jungkook snorts. “Keep it. Not like it will fit me anymore. Besides like I said, nothing turns me on more than a woman in my shirt. Why do you think I never asked for it back, princess?”

He reaches out to toy with the hem of the shirt, his fingers drawing soft circles against your hip bone. "Although I think I'd prefer you without it on, or rather anything on at all."

"Jungkook…" you barely managed to get out as he lifts the material upwards. Cold air hits instantly pebbling your nipples despite the rush of warmth growing below. Instinctively you move to cover yourself only for Jungkook to grab your wrist.

"Please (Y/N). I've been dying to touch you since day one of your return." He begs, bringing your hand down.

"Okay." You whisper.

"Okay. " he smiles, pressing his lips to yours. Those large hands clutch your shoulders as he presses further against you. All those curves and muscles you admired previously push up against your bare skin. Through the sweatpants you can feel how hard he is.

A gasp escapes you as Jungkook's hands move towards your breasts caressing the underbelly of them. His fingers circle the outer edges of your nipples tracing them, before finally moving to touch them. He treats you like glass, a vast difference from your previous encounters and it's starting to annoy you . "I'm not made of glass you know?" You remind, stopping his hands. "You can be rough with me. "

"Trust me, I know. If memory serves correct you prefer it when I do something like this-" Jungkook snorts, grinding into you. The friction of his length against your clothed heat is exactly what you need. Moaning loudly you grip onto his arms trying to steady yourself.

"That's it. Such a slut for friction. You honestly thought I'd forget how you made yourself cum on my thigh that night?" Jungkook smirks, fingers grazing along the edges of exposed skin. Goosebumps rise along wherever he touches and you squirm like underneath him. His smirk widens as he plays along the hem of your booty shorts. "I had to wash my jeans afterwards, they were so drenched from you. "

"I didn't hear you complaining." You shoot back, pressing your hips against him in efforts to regain that delicious friction. "If I remember correctly you had fun flexing your leg underneath me."

"Never said I didn't. In fact I would very much like a repeat of that night." Jungkook grins, shifting so his thigh is between your legs. The muscle in his leg flexes teasing your core; in a commanding tone he whispers, "Go crazy, princess. Ride me. Right here, right now, I promise I'll take care of ya. "

That's all you need to hear to descend into madness. Almost instinctively you latch onto Jungkook digging your nails into his firm shoulders as you wantonly thrust against his leg. Moans escape your lips in wild abandon as his muscles rub against your clit at the perfect angle. Jungkook is right you are a whore for thigh riding.

Just when you think it can't get any better Jungkook's hand slips under your panties, fingers immediately finding that hard pearl between your legs. He brushes it softly causing you to hiss as your knees close in unwillingly to give up such feeling. Now this is more like it.

"You like that?" He teases, forefinger circling your clit slowly.

"Mmhmm…" you nodd, grinding harder in an attempt to pick up his pace.

"Words princess. Tell me exactly what you want. "

"More. " you cry out. "Kook. More please. I need you. "

Oddly the nickname spurs him on if the harsh whisper of, 'fuck' says anything. If not then certainly the desperate opened mouth pressed to your lips does. Silently you make a mental note to use the nickname again but it's momentarily lost as his fingers pick up speed. This time it's you uttering curses as Jungkook brings you right to the edge of cumming.

"Please, please, I'm so close." You want him so badly it's ridiculous. The smirk widens on his face, Junkook decides to reward you by slipping two of his fingers into your core. "Fuck Kook!"

"That's it, princess. Come for me. Show me how good you feel." Jungkook pumps his fingers into you. All words leave you as a haze of ecstacy falls over you, all you can is moan rocking deliberately against his hand. With every thrust his fingers somehow hit that special spot inside you.

Jungkook's an expert at knowing all your spots and kinks, almost as if he memorized everything about you, last time he and you were together. Either way impressed doesn't even begin to describe how you feel about his abilities. You moan his name, holding onto to him tightly as you orgasm onto his thigh. It lasts longer than expected small waves of pleasure still coming despite the relaxed posture of your body resting on his.

Gently Jungkook strokes your hair in a manner similar to what lovers do after such an event. Alarm bells ring out at the action, but you make no move to stop him. "Was that a good enough reenactment for you?" You mention, half teasing.

Jungkook grins. "Better than good. You got me so hard, princess, I don't know how I can last."

This time it's you who smirks. Sliding off of his thigh, you get on your knees anxious for the next act. "Well then, I better make what little time you do have as great as possible. "

Before Jungkook can say a word you reach under the waistband of his sweats gripping his length tenderly in your hand. The groan uttered from Jungkook's lips at the slightest touch of your hand ignites another fire within you. Smirk widening you pull out your prize, taking a second to admire the gorgeous cock. Despite having seen it before you can never quite get its length or the beautiful curve of it.

Running a finger along the thick veins you see a bit of pre-cum at its tip. "You weren't joking when you said that last act turned you on." You tease, swiping over his head with your thumb.

Staring into his eyes, you put your thumb into your mouth sucking off the cum. The salty taste makes your mouth water, with an exaggerated pop take your thumb out. "Fuck, (Y/N). Don't tease, I'll go insane if you do." Jungkook pleads.

"So needy." You say, taking him into your mouth. Thankfully your last boyfriend was somewhat of a blow job junkie, and while Jungkook is twice as large as he was, you have no problem taking his length into your mouth. The tip touches the back of your throat, instinctively you hollow your cheeks sucking in a slow teasing manner.

You swirl your tongue about his base enjoying the beautiful noises Jungkook made under your tongue. Soon a hand buries itself into your hair, gripping tightly in an attempt to control the pace. Normally you wouldn't allow such behavior preferring your lover to suffer under you, however there's something about Jungkook's desperation to get off using your mouth that sends heat pooling to your core. It doesn't take long until he's spilling into your mouth, hands pulling on your hair he thrusts his hips forward pushing himself further into your mouth.

“Shit, princess. That was great. Almost as good as cumming inside you." Jungkook sighs running a hand through his messy hair.

You smile wiping the corners of your mouth clean. "Unfortunately you're going to have to miss out. Jimin will be home soon."

Again his hands make their way to your hips, already you can tell he's angling for another kiss. "We'll have to be quick then. "

Jungkook leans forward, but this time you pull away. "The last thing Jimin needs is to walk in on us….besides we need to wash these sweats before he gets home. "

His lips curl into a smile practically relishing in your embarrassment, "Fair enough princess, but don't think we are done yet. I plan on making your toes curl as much as possible until the plane ride home. "

You cock an eyebrow. “Those are big words coming from a man who just begged me to cum. What makes you think I’m going to let you?”

“Easy, because you like it as much as I do.” Jungkook replies, grinding himself once more against you. A sharp hiss escapes you; almost uncontrollably you push back desperate for that sweet friction, however Jungkook moves away denying any sensation. “ Nuh uh, Jimin’s going to be home soon. Wouldn’t want him catching us, now would we (Y/N)? You’ll have to wait until next.”

“You, son of a bitch!” You snap, glaring daggers at his retreating form. As much as you hate to admit it, something tells you this newfound friendship with Jungkook is going to be more than you bargained for.

--------

Despite what your parents may think, your summer vacation home isn’t an excuse to be lazy. While it is true that Korea’s summer vacations are shorter than American's, as a teacher you still have plenty of work left to do during the student’s time off. One such thing happens to be reading over the posts written by your honor’s literature course throughout the break. Normally you graded them at night when everyone was asleep, but as your class delves deeper into the context of Frankenstein, you find yourself unable to keep your nightly routine with the density of the topic. Hence why you now sit in a cafe hunched over your laptop rereading Joni’s obviously copyrighted post.

“You look lost in thought.” A cheery voice teases.

For a second your brain tricks into thinking it’s Jungkook talking, after all he’s been bothering you extra since the two of you made the transition from enemies to fuck buddies. So it wouldn’t be unusual if the dark haired boy stalked you to the cafe to annoy you. However when you look up it’s not tattooed arms or a dopey bunny looking face you see, instead a pair of smiling almond shaped eyes stare down at you, their owner a very familiar reddish brunette.

“Hoseok!” you cry, leaping up only to hit your knee on the table. It throbs causing a sharp expletive to escape your lips. Embarrass you try to shake it off as if it never happened. Last thing you need is to make a fool of yourself in front of him. “Hi, I didn’t see you there.”

“I can tell.” he laughs gesturing towards your knee. “I didn’t mean to startle you, (Y/N). It’s just been ages since I last saw you.”

Your heart skips a beat. Nervously you tuck a strand of hair behind your ears in attempts to play cool. Logically you know you have no reason to get nervous, especially not when Hoseok ditched you at a restaurant after getting told you were a slut by Jungkook. Yet, for whatever reason that small high school girl who idolized him still remains inside you.

“Almost six years. “ You smile. “Time has sure flown by hasn’t it?”

“Maybe but you haven’t changed much.” Hoseok winks, causing your brows to furrow. Haven’t changed much? What was he talking about? Did he not see your clear evolution from loner geek into potential adult? “You’re still as pretty as you were back in high school.”

This time you are pretty sure your heart stops. It takes everything in your power not to gap like a wide-mouth fish out of water. Time seems to slow down in the small coffee shop as you work to come up with a response. Suddenly all the previous noises of chatter, whistling kettles and clanking plates become overwhelming rather than peaceful. Unfortunately even after being in a committed relationship for two years, your flirtation skills are still rusty. “You obviously need glasses then, because I looked like a hobo back then.”

You can slap yourself. Literally-actually slap yourself for that stupid ass comment. Thankfully Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind only laughing even harder than before. “Nah, you were the prettiest girl on campus. Everyone was just afraid of you, because Jimin and Jungkook always hung around you-speaking of which, I want to apologize for how I acted back then. I shouldn’t have ditched you over such a stupid thing like that.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Water under the bridge trust me.” you lie, ignoring the pang in your chest. Just remembering that day brings a new fire of hostility towards Jungkook. No matter how many years pass you still remember the day clearly. You were waiting for Hoseok at a local dinner, anxiously checking your phone for any messages or calls. A full hour passed with you insisting multiple times to the kind waitress that your date was arriving soon, however Hoseok never showed up.

You tried contacting him, worried that something terrible happened only to never get a response. Once home, you even bug Jimin who was friends with Hoseok then about the cheery boy, only to be brushed off. It’s not until you went to school the next day and confronted Hoseok in the hallway that you found out the truth. Jungkook let it loose that you were a slut and Hoseok being the knight in shining armor he was, fought him. They were equally matched with both of them garnering bruises and bumps because of it, but ultimately they were tied.

“Look (Y/N), you seem like a nice girl, ” Hoseok said, brushing you off. “And what Jungkook said about you being a slut probably isn’t true, but I really can’t handle all this drama between you two.”

That day your heart broke in two as dramatic as it sounds. Moreover from that moment you vowed to hate Jeon Jungkook for the rest of your life. “No, it’s really not and I might be overstepping my boundaries, but I would like another chance to get to know you.” Hoseok asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Okay. " the word slips through your lips before you even have a chance to think it over.

His face lights up and any doubt you once had shatters completely. People change, Jungkook did so maybe Hoseok matured too. Either way it wouldn't hurt to try again. "Great. It'll be fun, I promise. "

"I'm going to hold you to that Hoseok. " you tease. Inside you the giddiness grows, it feels as if you walked into some sort of dream or something. Didn't every girl dream of her high school crush finally realizing what a catch she is?

"You won't regret it." Hoseok swears. "Anyway I should let you get back to work, but first can I get your number?"

You rattle it off to him, doing your best to appear stoic, unfortunately the aching in your smiling cheeks suggests utter failure. Afterwards your students' work feels like less frustrating or maybe you're feeling a little generous seeing how Trisha totally bullshited her review yet you still gave a ⅘ on it. Whatever the reason you finish up faster than expected, leaving the cafe with an extra hour of free time. "Well if it isn't a princess set free from her tower!" Someone whistles.

Unlike earlier you have no issue distinguishing the playful voice of Jungkook. Turning towards the noise, you unsurprisingly find him propped up against his car in a cool uncaring fashion. His work clothes only help amplify the appearance; the black suit jacket paired perfectly with his white dress shirt and pants ensemble make him look like a Chaebol rather than plain Jungkook. All in all he looks absolutely mouth watering, but you'd die before ever admitting it. "If it isn't the ogre coming out of his swamp to play. " you tease, pinching his arm.

He chuckles, opening the passenger's door of his black Lexus. "I think you forget the ogre got his princess in the end. "

You wrinkle your nose in faux disgust. "Good luck, finding one. I don't know how many people can put up with your ugly mug. "

"Don't need to. I already captured you. " Jungkook replies, closing the car door.

You blink registering what he said. "That's the cheesiest line I've ever heard."

He shrugs slipping on a pair of faux Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses. Paired with the rest of his outfit, the glasses shattered the image of the rich Chaebol man. Their paint chipped arms and scratched off logo scream 'fake' and you wonder why Jungkook kept such hideous knock offs. "You should get rid of those. They make you look cheap. "

Jungkook scrunches his nose. "No way, they were a gift. "

"A gift purposefully bought from some shady street vendor, because my mother insisted I buy you a college graduation gift." You say, reaching out to grab them.

Naturally Jungkook only needs to lean away to thwart your efforts. "So? I like them. "

"You look like one of those wannabe entrepreneurs on Instagram. "

"How dare you! I have over five hundred followers, I'm legendary!"

"Did Jimin make five hundred accounts? Because he's the only who would follow your ass!" You say, attempting one more shot at retrieving those vile glasses.

Once more Jungkook merely tilts his head blocking your stubby little arms from reaching. "Whatever you say princess, we both know you're the one following my ass around here. "

"I'm following you? How laughable. I didn't know you were a comedian, Jungkook…" the two of you continue bantering the rest of the car ride home.

--------------

Author’s note: Special thanks to @dreamsfromthesandman for editing and putting up with my craziness even if she’s not army.

#bts #BTS jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #sunny writes #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook smut

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passivenovember · 4 years ago

Text

If Snow Loves the Trees and Fields.

Billy's job at Willowbrook Elementary is the only reason he puts up with this weather at all.

His hatred for winter, a season which hardly existed when he taught in the Valley, morphs and becomes something violent on the first Monday after Christmas break.

He wakes up feeling like his toes have gone missing, frozen black and blue with the cold, and after his phone tells him it's below zero outside, with wind-chill, his heart stops beating.

Hawkins is -10 degrees, to be precise.

And it leaves him feeling like that's gotta be illegal, or. He could for sure call all the scientists on Earth and have a law passed that clarifies: those born and raised in a Southern climate get a free pass on days when Hell is actively freezing over.

But it's not snowing today. And all the ice on the street has been scraped into terrible, disgusting drifts that block his driveway, and Hopper would immediately call bullshit. All, gonna have to suck it up if you wanna live here, buttercup.

So Billy decides to be an adult, or whatever. He spends another five minutes on his phone definitely not stalking his ex Instagram before rolling out of bed to get dressed.

And, like.

Even his underwear drawer is stiff from the cold so Billy decides to bundle the fuck up--a trick he learned from Max last fall, during the coldest year Indiana had ever seen. He manages to stack five layers in total; one pretty pink thermal set just brushing his his skin and a button down shirt to stave off the goosebumps. A sweater and jeans for professionalism. One Grateful Dead hoodie, because it makes him feel like he's not a total sell out, and a thick winter coat, sent special from the snow capped mountains of California this Christmas.

It still smells like his mom's pikake lei perfume.

Billy tries not to think about that, of home, on a day when he'd give his left nut for a ray of sunshine.

Instead, he spends ten minutes filling his thermos with coffee. Boiling the rice milk more than once so it'll stay warm on the ride across town. He sticks his pinky under the lip after his third go, and fuck that shit is so hot it will burn his mouth tomorrow, before checking the weather app again for closures.

Hoping against hope that something has changed in the last five minutes.

Of course, nothing has.

The superintendent believes that everyone in Hawkins is somehow used to temperatures that makes their eyelids freeze shut in the thirty second walk to the car in the morning. Billy jams a knit cap on his head and seriously considers calling in.

A last ditch effort to quell the rising fury in his veins, that like.

He's gonna have to scrape his windows, and freeze his dick off, and deal with the neighbor.

The one who looks like he doesn't mind the cold so much because he carries the sun with him, fucking asshole.

People shouldn't be wandering the streets when their eyelids could freeze shut, right?

Billy checks his phone one more time, frowning at a text from Joyce to pick up some coffee on your way in, and tosses his bag over his shoulder before he can change his mind.

It's so much worse than expected.

Billy's lungs seize up on his second intake of fresh air because no one should be huffing sulfur or gaseous ice or whatever the fuck this shit is first thing in the morning. On a Monday. The first one after Christmas break, and.

"God damn, holy shit, holy shit," Billy bounces the whole way to the Camaro, breath coming in short, comical bursts of steam that make his nose run. He swipes dramatically at his face, struggling to get his keys into the lock while balancing his thermos on one arm and his messenger bag on the other.

Billy's in the middle of forcing the door open, its hinges are frozen solid with ice goddammit, when Steve fucking Harrington appears like a cloud on the wind.

"Howdy neighbor," Steve says. Like they're cowboys in a shitty film from the 1970s. The wind kicks a lock of brown hair into Harrington's face and he shivers. "Wow, it's really blowing out here, huh?"

Midwesterner's love doing that.

Pointing out the obvious.

Billy grumbles a response, flinging his car door open and jamming the keys into the ignition.

Steve's saying something.

Talking like always, about his cat or maybe the beer they keep saying they'll have together, and generally Billy puts up with it but not today. He isn't going to freeze to death for a pair of legs.

The Camaro roars to life, clearly pissed at having to work on such a disgusting day, and. Alright. Letting your car "warm up," is something so Midwestern Billy can't even talk about it.

It takes him all of two minutes to scrape his windows, electing to carve holes in each wall of ice rather than clear the whole thing. The metal handle of the scraper Max got him feels like the ninth circle of hell against the peachy skin of his fingers.

He should've bought some mittens.

Joyce is always saying he needs mittens, he should've asked for some--

Billy tosses the scraper into his back seat and climbs in, slamming the door shut behind him and cranking the heat up to high. Steve's watching from next to the fence in a fucking pea coat, and a scarf with care bears on it and.

Nothing else.

Fucking asshole.

Steve waves at him, like; hey I'm talking to you. Frantically, like the mouse Mr. Bane caught last week is important.

But Billy's too busy trying to back out of the driveway with five layers of shit restricting his movement. He cranks the music up and cautiously pulls onto the street. Nice and smooth like he's seen Steve do effortlessly, even with three inches of ice on the ground. Fucking asshole.

Billy makes it halfway before he hits something.

The wind kicks hair into his face as he assesses the damage.

"You should've scraped your driveway last night." Steve says helpfully.

He's got a cigarette hanging from his lips, stark in contrast to the weird home made scarf he's got folded around his neck. Billy tries not to think about Steve's lips as he makes his way to the back of the Camaro to see that, yup.

Of course.

His baby is stuck in the snow. Billy kicks the tire. Like that'll fix anything.

"That's not gonna fix anything." Steve says, leaning against the fence.

"Jesus, fuck. I know, Steve." Billy scrubs a hand across his face, gesturing to the Care Bear scarf. "Why the hell are you wearing that thing, you look like a fruit."

"I am a fruit."

"Well you look like the whole goddamn bowl, pretty boy." Billy digs around for a cigarette. "My kindergarteners don't even fuck with the Care Bears enough to own scarves." Billy squints, assessing Steve from head to toe, delighting in the awkward squirm of his limbs. He clicks his tongue, disappointed. "Couldn't look any fruiter if you tried."

Steve shrugs his shoulders, like. Don't yell at me, this isn't my fault.

And okay.

He's cute.

Billy gets struck by that every time he sees the guy, all over again, like. His profile is perfect. Sharp nose, pretty eyes. Thick lips.

Steve holds out a cigarette.

Billy takes it.

"One of my residents made it for me. He's learning how to flat pattern." Harrington says shyly. "Well, he made it for his grand daughter, but. It turned out worse than he expected so I offered to take it."

Billy squints. "The fuck does that mean?"

"Just means I was trying to be nice--"

"No, the." Billy grins in spite of himself. "The flat patterning, what's that?"

Steve shrugs again. "I'm not sure, I think it's like. A sewing term. Or something." A pretty blush the color of Steve's scarf spreads across the bridge of his nose. It looks like strawberry ice cream and Billy.

Has to look away.

"My mom sews," Billy says gruffy. "I've never heard her say that."

"Well, maybe she drapes?"

Billy squints again. "What?"

"Draping. That's another thing people do--"

Billy stamps the cigarette out and kicks his tire again. Steve jolts, like. Billy tried to kick him or something, which just makes the situation worse.

"God, they should've cancelled classes." Billy states. Well, screams, to no one in particular. "Who wants to go to work in the snow, who fucking. Likes this white bullshit?"

Steve leans against the fence and looks thoughtful. "I love the snow."

"You're not helping."

"You asked."

"No, I didn't." Billy shoots back. He digs his cellphone out and shakes his head. "Why are you still here, Harrington? Don't you have old people to take care of?"

Steve chuckles again. Light, like Christmas bells. "Don't you have screaming brats to teach?"

"My car's kinda stuck in the snow, you fucking dick." Billy's so focused on trying to order a lyft that he doesn't waste time on pleasantries. He expects that to be the end of it, when the wind picks up and he swears again, but. Steve just moves closer.

"Let me drive you." Steve says.

And.

The moment sort of hangs there.

In the two years that Billy's lived next to the guy, they've never hung out. Never house sat for each other, never spoken outside the occasional could you make sure your idiot friends don't block my driveway, and empty promises to grab a beer sometime.

So the offer catches him off guard.

Billy glances up from his phone, confused, to find Steve looking everywhere but at him. Harrington's shifting his weight, like. He's fucking nervous, or something.

Or maybe hoping Billy will say no because he's just being polite.

Billy glares.

Of course he's just being neighborly. Charitable. That's what Midwestern assholes do.

Billy waves his phone in the air, like, "I'm ordering a lyft." And it comes out sharper. More aggressive than he means it too, but Steve doesn't seem to notice.

"Just ride with me, it's on the way."

Billy points at the screen. "Jason will be here in ten minutes."

"What's Jason got that I don't have?" Harington quips, and.

Billy just wants shit to go back to normal. He shakes his head again, "Nah, 's okay, pretty boy. Thanks anyway." Before turning back to his phone like he's got important shit to worry about.

Steve stands.

Stares.

Waits, for longer than is necessary, before clearing his throat. "Okay, well. Happy first day back." He says.

And if Billy didn’t know any better he'd say Steve sounds almost.

Disappointed.

When Billy gets off of work that night the snow is gone from his driveway.

Billy still has bad days.

They always start before dawn. With the claws of his nightmare leaving scratches down the lining of his throat. It's like Billy's carrying an anchor around his neck, or his veins are filled with playdough the color of the sun on those afternoons. He feels lazy and sluggish and like if someone looks at him for too long he'll break. Snap and crackle, like an open flame against fresh skin.

Billy still has bad days but they don't come unless he's been slipping for a while. Like forgetting to take his medication, or not writing his letter every night before bed.

The one to Neil, that his therapist says will help him work through the last of the road blocks that stand in the way of, "ultimate healing."

Billy used to think it was horseshit.

But Neil. Everything that happened, everything that still happens--when Billy goes home for Christmas, or when Susan calls and he can hear the slur of hate on the other end of the line--is standing in the way of something.

There are so many letters.

So much he wants to say.

Written on anything Billy can find, like. Napkins and the backs of take out menus--old drawings that the kids send home with him after Art class on Fridays.

The pages are kept in a binder.

His therapist says it's important to decorate the binder with, like. Stuff that makes him feel good. Words and phrases, stickers, pictures of the people he loves and drawings of all his favorite things. The folder is supposed to act as a visual reminder of the blanket of love that surrounds him, or something.

Melvalds only had brown folders when he went to pick his up, so.

The folder is brown. Disgusting.

And so far the only decorations he's been able to stomach are one of those fancy stickers from Redbubble that depicts his favorite episode of Daria, and a picture of him and Maxine with underwear on their heads.

Billy thinks it could be sad to some people.

That a poor, little abused boy only has two things in life that protect him from the shadow which falls with the setting sun, but it's the truth. Life is hard and fucked up. Billy has trouble letting people close, letting people in, so he sticks with the basics. The tried and true.

Maxine and his gravity bong.

Billy Hargrove is a simple man.

So it's two weeks after Steve shovels his driveway and Billy tells his therapist, like. "This fucking guy just. Did something nice for me."

And she clearly wonders what's wrong with him. "Did you say thank you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because," Billy tries not to get defensive about shit these days, because. It's only a hop-skip-and a jump from defensiveness to downright aggression and Megan, his well meaning shrink, doesn't deserve that even on her most annoying days.

His leg bounces under the table, thwacking against its mahogany edge loud enough that Megan can hear it over the fucking phone, so she says, "Billy. Stop."

Because they have a deal about nervous ticks.

Billy is supposed to say his safe word when he starts to feel anxious, but.

He fucking hates that shit. Hates being babied. Hates feeling like he's a goddamn basket case that needs to be rooted in reality when his trauma rears its ugly head. Billy smiles, the whole thing falling flat against his face. "I'm stopping."

Megan sighs. "Why haven't you thanked Steve for his act of kindness?"

"Because, like." Billy's shaking his leg again. Softer this time; it's a secret. "How do I know he isn't trying to, fucking. Get information out of me. Or out me to the community, or. Make fun of the way I'm a grown man who can't shovel his own driveway after a snowstorm--"

"I think you're internalizing your fears, Billy."

"Yeah, no shit." He snaps. Billy feels bad for half a second but then she's giggling, like she always does, which makes him feel less like the big bad wolf and more like one of the three little pigs. The guy with the straw, maybe?

Billy sighs, scrubbing at his face. "What does that even mean?"

Megan makes a noise on the other end of the line, like. In the six months that Billy's been in therapy he should've learned this by now.

Dude's got a short attention span, sue him.

And, sure enough. "Twice a week we meet over the phone and you don't know that internalizing your fears means you're trying to write the ending to a story you haven't even read yet?"

"Like, uh," Billy says intelligently. "What's that shit you're always saying? About seeing a book on the shelf and--"

"Guessing the ending. Yup, that's right." Megan sounds pleased. Billy ignores the bloom of happiness in his chest, because like. He doesn't really deserve it. She doesn't give him time to dwell, though. "Steve did something nice for you. Maybe he has suspicious intent--"

Billy sucks in a breath, like.

Dramatic. Loud enough that Megan snorts and says, "Hold on, you're jumping to conclusions again."

Billy really fucking.

Hates how perceptive she can be.

Megan keeps talking and Billy listens, because he pays her after all. "If you're really worried that his intentions are cloudy, do something nice for him in return."

"Something nice," Billy repeats. Like he's never heard of such a concept. "Something nice, like. Buy him flowers?"

Megan snorts. "Do you want to buy him flowers?"

"No, why would you think that?"

"Because you--" His therapist sighs. Billy embraces the feeling it gives him, yanking her chain a little bit. "Listen. I don't know this Steve person, and I've never heard you talk about him beyond this beer you're supposed to have together, like. Never. But has he ever given you a reason to think he's out to hurt you?"

Billy thinks back over two years and a million one-dimensional interactions.

Steve never loses his temper.

Not when Billy calls to have the cars that block his driveway towed, not when Billy bitches about the daisy bushes shedding into his yard in the fall, and Steve always picks up Mr. Bane's cat shit from Billy's front porch when the Gremlin actually goes outside.

Always with a smile and a sweet little, I think Mr. B likes you.

And, like.

It was pretty nice of Steve to offer Billy a ride that morning.

And shovel his driveway after work, just because he knew Billy probably wouldn't do it.

The whole thing, it. Fills Billy with something he can't quite express, a warmth he only ever feels when Max calls a dozen times to remind him to eat dinner when he sends a few intense messages.

Megan takes his silence, as always, like a breakthrough.

"So," She says, clearly satisfied. "Same time next week?"

Billy spends three days waiting for Steve to make it easy for him.

Because Harrington's a home owner, and there's always something, right? A problem he needs help with, like. A leaky pipe that needs fixed, a cup of sugar for a recipe that he didn't account for, ghosts in the attic. Typical HOA bullshit.

Billy stares out his window at the lovely split level next door and decides he'll take anything, do anything, to get this fucking anchor of guilt off his back for the whole driveway situation. The opportunity never presents itself.

The ducks never fall in a row.

Steve just leaves the house every morning, same time as Billy, same as always, with a gentle Howdy neighbor. And a smile tugging at his pretty pink lips, hair perfect and windswept because he's a fucking asshole and it only takes two days.

Forty-eight hours before Billy's hatching a plan to pay Harrington back and inventing problems to solve, like some sort of demonic Bob the Builder.

He calls Max on Thursday and comes up with a list. Something tangible, like breaking Steve's garage window with a ski ball. Or trapping Mr. Bane in a sweater and pretending like he's gone missing so Steve will have to round up a search party, but.

Billy knows Megan would call that instigating, antagonizing, and causing trouble, which Billy's trying not to do anymore.

So he brings up flowers again, because.

Fuck it--maybe he's wanted to see Steve behind a bouquet of Lilies of the Valley for months now.

And Max goes all soft.

And quiet, too, before whispering, "I'm really proud of you, you know? For getting better."

Then suddenly Billy can't breathe because there's a lump in his throat.

Because he is trying to get better. To live honestly, to lead with love--whatever hippie-dippie bullshit Megan is always spoon feeding him, so.

With Max's blessing, Billy's about to, like. Knock on Steve's door with a plate of pot brownies and a shitty thanks for being a decent human card when Mr. Bane leaves a dead bird on Billy's porch, the third one in a month, and Billy hatches an idea.

Steve's front door is yellow.

Like. Sunshine yellow. Valley girl yellow.

Which Billy used to think was charming but now thinks is kind of annoying, when coupled with Steve's perpetually sunny disposition. And okay. Maybe it sort of pokes and prods at that piece of him that's always missing home.

Maybe it makes him a little bit sad, like. He'll never really feel at peace anywhere else.

But before Billy can dwell on it, or raise his fist to knock on the door, Steve's opening it and preparing to step through. He's using his foot to stop Mr. Bane from running out into the yard so he doesn't see Billy right away, which.

Also means he's going somewhere.

Which inherently means Billy's caught him at a bad time. Billy holds the paper bag closer to his chest and feels the words bubbling up before he can practice his breathing, or. Stop them. Because this is his third biggest fear after arguments and spiders.

"I've caught you at a bad time, I'm sorry, I'll just come back la--"

Steve breaks out into a grin so big. So bright, that it rivals anything Billy's ever seen before.

"Howdy, neighbor!" Steve says.

And Billy shifts nervously from one foot to the other, like. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, it's not a--"

"Because I can come back later." Billy nods, already turning on his heel to escape, and like. Fly into the sun. "Or not at all. I can just mail it to you, that's. Yeah, I'll just stick it in the post or something."

Steve grabs his elbow.

Billy looks at the hand on his elbow, and down at Steve’s feet. There aren’t any shoes or anything, so.

Billy's overreacting.

Fuck. He swallows, raising his eyes with caution to see Steve smiling again. Even wider than before, if that's possible.

Harrington licks his lips. "Whatcha got there?" He says, nodding to the bag, and Steve.

He's wearing glasses today.

Billy feels like someone hit him on the back of the head with a ski ball. Steve looks so soft, in white stripped overalls and a green sweater, that Billy doesn't know whether to fluff him like a pillow or fucking.

Punch him in the face.

Billy holds out the paper bag. "It's for you."

Steve looks at him strangely but he's still smiling, which.

Is good.

Billy thinks it's good but then he knows its good when Steve giggles. "I gathered that. What is it?"

"It's a, uh. You know." Billy tries. "You know one of those things? Where it's, like, a thing but you aren't supposed to know what it is?"

Steve blinks at him, cheeks turning pink like they always do. "A surprise?"

"That's the one." Billy snaps his fingers, like. Ah-ha. Except it isn't a surprise, it's just. "It's a way to say thanks. For the whole," Billy concludes, gesturing vaguely to their front lawns, to. "The driveway."

Steve blushes even harder. "You didn't have to get me a present--"

"It's not a present."

"That was just me trying to be nice." Steve leans against the door jam, eyes searching. "It doesn't call for a--"

"It's not a present." Billy says again. Steve doesn't look like he believes him, so Billy, like. Shoves the paper bag to his chest. "Look, open it now or don't. Fucking, throw it away for all I care, it's fine."

Billy turns on his heel because fuck this.

Fuck trying to pay back nice with nice and fuck Steve for starting this whole debacle to begin with. Billy makes it down one step and then Steve is laughing so hard he can't stand up straight.

Which just makes Billy feel worse, because.

"You're laughing." Billy gapes. "I bring you a present to say thanks for not being an asshole, and you're laughing."

Steve doesn't answer, he just.

Keeps on laughing, and okay.

This is Billy's third greatest fear. After abandonment and fighting. Fists covered in blood--his or someone else's, it doesn't matter. He frowns, turning to leave again when Steve straightens and coughs once into the palm of his hand.

"Thought it wasn't a present," Steve quips, and he's looking at Billy with, like. Sparkly eyes. He shrugs. "I'm not sure what it means."

Billy doesn't get it. "It doesn't have to mean anything--"

"No, like." Steve peers into the bag again, clearly holding back tears. "Why did you get me a bag of dead mice?"

"You can get them at the pet store." Billy says, because. You can, alright? He fiddles with the sleeves of his winter coat. "They're for Mr. Bane."

Steve just stares at him, eyes twinkling like two polished diamonds in his head.

And he's not saying anything, or. Laughing anymore, he's just. Watching Billy fall to pieces on his walkway as he tries to defend himself.

Billy focuses on the clouds that inch across the sky. "Mr. Bane, he's. He's always catching shit, like. Dead shit and leaving it on my porch. I just thought if he wants to eat dead things I can just. Buy him a pack or whatever. Like a normal person."

Steve grins. "You know they do that because they think you can't feed yourself."

Billy wrinkles his nose. "Well I fucking appreciate it, but I don't want to eat dead mice and birds and shit."

Steve chuckles once before staring again.

Like he's memorizing Billy's face, or like. They're having a competition that Billy doesn't know about.

Billy gestures to the bag again. "Would you just accept it, Steve? Please?"

Harrington looks down at the mice in his hands and nods slowly, like the decision is really requiring some thought.

Billy feels stupid.

This was so fucking stupid--

"Sure, Billy." Harrington says. Soft, and. Sweet. "No one's ever given me such a thoughtful gift before, so. Thank you."

And Billy feels like the tin man getting oil on his joints after a year of rusting in the forest, when Steve accepts his weird ass gesture. He nods, mouth lapsing into a thin, unamused line. "Okay, then. See ya 'round," Billy says.

And then he's turning, and.

Leaving.

Before Steve can say anything else.

The clouds inch like caterpillars across the bright winter sky and Steve's walkway seems so much longer on the journey home.

#harringrove #i'm sorry aaaaah #I wanted to post the first chapter here too #because I'm fucking proud of this one alright #and I feel like I need a little fluff #and maybe you need a lil fluff too #cmon man #let me fluff you like a pillow bro

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prettygirlcore · 4 years ago

Text

fall - hwang hyunjin

a/n: i think i’m gonna start putting summaries on my posts, but don’t expect them to be good because i suck at that.

i also used like a million pet names because i find them really sweet and endearing. hyunjin’s a boy i want to protect, ya know?

warnings: fainting, hyunjin overworking himself :(((, and just overall sad vibes.

summary: hyunjin’s worried about being good enough, so he starts to work harder; that doesn’t end well.

hyunjin’s rarely late. being on time is usually something he holds himself to and when he knows he’ll be late, he’ll text you and let you know. but you haven’t heard anything from him since morning and he’s an hour late to your scheduled date. admittedly, you were just going to eat dinosaur chicken nuggets in your pajamas and watch tv, but all your stay-at-home dates are memories that you really cherish and value.

so you call him. and he doesn’t answer. at this point you’re more worried than annoyed, so your next resort is to call chan. hopefully you didn’t have to resort to calling jyp themselves.

“y/n? what is it? is everything okay?”

“chan, thank god you picked up, do you know where hyunjin is?”

“he’s still in the practice room. we told him he should get home to you, but he said that you’d be gone so he doesn’t have anything better to do but run through his sets a few more times,”

“Uhm no? i’m at home?? waiting for him???”

“maybe he forgot?”

“hyunjin’s capable of forgetting many things, our weekly dates isn’t one of them,”

“do you want me to get him for you?”

“no, just… let him be, i guess. whatever he’s doing is important to him, anyway,”

“y/n-”

“bye chris,”

you said before hanging up the phone, not giving chan a chance to finish. it was so incredibly embarrassing to think that hyunjin probably knew you were waiting for him, but didn’t care. maybe he was with someone else, since he was in a position where he’d be alone for a few hours. god you felt so dumb. chan felt pity for you and your stupid, dumb idea that hyunjin actually cared to make it to your stupid date.

you sit there, scrolling through a bunch of different apps, trying to distract yourself from how horrible you felt for a good twenty minutes, when...

your phone is ringing again.

chan is calling you again.

you watch his face light up your phone, you can hear the ringtone, and yet, you don’t pick up. maybe it was the underlying rage you felt towards hyunjin, or the absolute hatred you felt at chan’s pitiful voice when you almost broke down crying during the first call.

chan’s call fades out as you officially ignore his call and send him to voicemail, but he calls again.

you still don’t answer.

he calls you again.

once again, you can’t find it in you to answer.

he calls you a good five more times, maybe more, you don’t remember. all you know is that this ringtone is starting to annoy you. you move to put your phone on do not disturb, but before you can hit the button, you were getting another call.

guess who it was?

wrong.

you think to yourself if minho, of all people, is calling me, maybe i should answer it.

so you do.

“minho-”

“yah! what the hell? why weren’t you answering chan’s calls?”

“minho i don’t want to talk about it right now-”

“oh my god y/n for one minute stop thinking about you and your feelings! for just once in your life! hyunjin’s at the hospital!”

hospital?

hyunjin was at the hospital??

you were shocked, stunned into silence that you completely disregarded minho on the other line until he brought you back to reality.

“y/n?”

“a-ah, i’m sorry, why is he at the hospital?”

“they think he fainted from a combination of a lack of sleep and dehydration. he’s not awake right now, but the doctors assume he will be soon. he took a pretty bad fall when he fainted, and because he was all alone, nobody knew anything had happened to him until you called chan about him,”

“did he break anything when he fainted?”

“no, he just has a pretty nasty bruise on his side. agh, why am i explaining all of this to you? just get over here, okay? he’ll want to see you when he wakes up,”

completely disregarding all the irritation you had felt a second before, you thanked minho and grabbed your car keys, heading over to the hospital. you were driving faster than was safe, but it didn’t matter. hyunjin has fainted when you assumed he was cheating. what an asshole you were.

seeing him in that bed, all pale and weak-looking, truly made you think. had you paid any attention to hyunjin these past few days? you were sure he was fine just the other day, if a bit tired looking. he did also seem weaker. but you just took that as something sleep could fix.

maybe the last time you had seen him was yesterday, but you haven’t really seen him since maybe a week ago, your last date. he’s been so busy, you just assumed he was sleeping at the dorms when he wasn't sleeping next to you. was he really not sleeping at all?

you were pulled from your thoughts when his hand started to squeeze yours, a telltale sign he was waking up. you looked over at him, and his eyes were closed but you could tell he was drifting out of sleep.

“don’t try to get up, sweetie, you’re a bit weak right now,”

“y-y/n…? where am i?”

“you’re okay, you’re just at the hospital,”

“o-oh, um, look i’m really sorry for causing so much trouble and for missing our date, i didn’t mean to i just got caught up in practicing-”

“practicing doesn’t come before your health, jinnie, you know that,”

“i know but i was so worried about this past comeback and i feel like i didn’t do my best and you know jyp never gives us a break and i just have to be better-,”

“hyunjin,”

“y/n i have to be more than just a pretty face. i can’t be remembered as just a visual, i have other talents! i promise that i’m just working harder so i can show that there’s more to me than my looks,”

“stop, please, just stop,”

“y/n-”

“do you think i’m okay with seeing you like this? do you think the boys are okay with seeing you like this? what about stay? do you think they could fully enjoy anything you’re making knowing that you had to resort to unhealthy habits like not sleeping and forgetting to drink water?”

“i mean no i guess not, but this wasn’t supposed to happen-”

“what was supposed to happen, hyunjin? were you just going to keep carrying on practicing day and night, destroying your body, all while not talking to me about this?”

“you shouldn’t have to deal with-”

“that’s not up to you to decide what i should or shouldn’t deal with! because i’m here now, dealing with the aftermath of what you did,”

“... you’re right, i’m sorry, y/n,”

you suddenly realize that you’ve stood up from the chair you were sitting in. you’re also towering over him, since he’s laying in a hospital bed, and your angry expression and pointed finger in his direction probably didn’t help. he does look kind of scared of you.

“ah, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you. i was just really worried, i felt really helpless when i first saw you laying there, so i’m sorry if that was too much. i’ll check in with you doctor and see when we can get you home, sweetie,”

you say with a kiss on his forehead, and suddenly he’s alone again. like he was in the practice room. he didn’t like to be alone, more specifically, he didn’t like to be without you.

the doctors do plenty of tests to make sure there wasn’t anything else that contributed to his faint, but hyunjin is soon in the comforts of your arms and bed finally. he cuddles up close to you, resting his head against your chest. he feels safe when he heard your heartbeat.

“jinnie?”

“hmmm?”

“can we talk?”

“y-yes, sure,”

he looks like he doesn’t want to move, so you don’t force him to. his voice is slightly muffled but you can still make out what he says, so it’s not a big deal.

“you said you started practicing more because you were worried that you didn’t do good enough,”

“uhm, y-yeah, that’s why,”

“jinnie, darling, what made you feel that way?”

he looked at you like a deer in headlights, before resting his head in your lap. you run your fingers through his long hair, but it’s not enough to calm him.

“i… i see the things they say. i know it shouldn’t get to me, that i shouldn’t let it get to me, but it does. i can’t just tell myself to stop thinking about their criticisms like you want me to, it doesn’t work that way,”

you were almost taken aback by his slightly aggressive attitude, but you let it go. he’s not in the state of mind to care to watch what he says. with all that he’s feeling, it would be selfish to put the spotlight on you.

“i’m sorry, jinnie. i can tell it’s hard, so much more than i know. i can empathize and try to help you but i’ll never know what it truly feels like,”

it’s silent for another minute or two, the silence isn’t unbearable, but it’s awkward.

“how can i help you, jinnie? what would make your life easier right now?”

he’s quick to dismiss you, say you don’t need to do anything, but you speak up again before he can respond.

“and don’t tell me i don’t need to do anything. i want to help you,”

he smiles, somewhat sadly as he looks down to avoid looking you in the eye.

“just…”

“yeah?”

“...please be there for me,”

he looks up at you with watery eyes, and before you crush him in another hug, he speaks once more,

“please be there to catch me if i fall,”

#stray kids #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #stray kids writing #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst

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crewhonk · 5 years ago

Text

Only Happy Accidents (12)

AN: I’m actually really sorry about this

Warnings: *deep breath* scared Steve, labour, Ms. YLN prays over YN and Steve and baby (its Christian prayer), swearing, incorrect medicine, lots of blood, childbirth complications, dying wishes, trauma, very angry Steve, hatred against newborns, Steve is a dick, Steve is scared, Helen cho has a good poker face, Helen cho is badass and isn't afraid of anything

Only Happy Accidents (master list)

____________________

July 3rd, labour day 1

“Say You Love Me”— Jessie Ware

8:00pm

“You were in labour and you didn’t tell me?!” Steve hissed as he stormed around the room, shoving things in a backpack— YN wasn’t sure what he was doing, since everything was already in the med bay but she stayed silent, letting him do his thing.

“You deserved to have a day that was about you! Everything these past few months has been about me, and I wanted you to have some time where you were the star, okay!” YN snapped back, frustrated. She had thrown on her dress again since he’d passed out, but he had woken up quickly enough, eyes wild and searching for YN.

“I understand that, but this is my kid too, YN! I deserved to know that he was on his way!” Steve pointed a finger, and YN bared her teeth.

“Don’t you dare point a fucking finger in my face, Steven!” YN barked, irritation spiking when she could feel another contraction go through her body. Steve had almost immediately downloaded a timing app on her phone after waking up, and she clicked it, hunching over her stomach almost protectively. Noticing she was going through a contraction, he rushed over, but stopped when she put up one finger. The contraction subsided and YN looked up at Steve, eyes on fire.

“Look. I’m sorry I wanted you to be the star of the day. I’m sorry I wanted to take a step back after you doting on me every second of every day and just have some fucking time with your friends for once! I was practically a stranger a few months ago, and then I’m the centre of your world for nine consecutive months and you don’t get any time for yourself and it’s not fair!” YN explained, tears in her eyes and Steve softened slightly, falling to his knees in front of her and holding her hips.

“YN, I want you to be the centre of my world. I want you to be my priority, and I don’t want to be the centre of attention— I’ve had that since Erskine talked to me. Trust me when I say I’ve had enough attention to last me countless lifetimes.” Steve said, voice low but strong. YN nodded, and leaned her forehead against his.

“I just don’t want you to fall out of love with me because I’m not carrying your baby.” She admitted and Steve made a sound that broke YN’s heart.

“Baby. Sweetheart. My beautiful, sexy, funny wife believe me when I say, that the next morning after Halloween, I decided you were going to be my wife at one point or another. Believe me when I say that I knew it from the first moment that you were it for me. Sexy pirate, baby mama, wife, future museum curator, all of it— the second I met you I knew I was done.” Steve gushed, and when he was finished, he wiped the tears streaming from YN’s eyes.

“I feel like I’m in a love story, Steve— this doesn’t happen to people in real life.” YN cried and Steve offered a wet smile.

“It happened to us, Ma. Now, how about we go have a little baby, huh?” He asked, pulling her to her feet. She took a few seconds to steady herself and looked up at him sharply, suddenly overcome with dread.

“Steve.”

“What.”

“We don’t have a name.”

________________________

9:00 PM

The hospital gown, no matter how YN tied it, wasn’t cute. Sure, it was soft, but it didn’t tie all the way in the back and it showed off the adult diaper she had to wear to catch the fluids leaking from her, which was odd considering her water had yet to actually break.

“This is awful. This is the worst thing I’ve ever worn.” YN pouted, looking in the mirror and frowning at how… round she looked. Sure, she’d had bad body days before this, but she couldn’t look like this today. Her baby was coming and YN just really wanted to make a good impression.

“I think you’re sexy.” Steve piped up from across the room and YN snorted, enjoying the chorus of laughter that joined her. Bucky, Nat and Sam were all in the room, having pulled in couches from the living room to accommodate everyone.

“Very funny, Rogers.”

“Seriously. Sexiest diaper I’ve ever seen.” He joked, winking at you through the mirror and you scoffed, throwing a nearby chapstick at him.

“Don’t make it weird.”

“Too late.” Sam said, and YN rolled her eyes, a friendly smile on her face.

“People have called mom, right?” YN looked around the room and Natasha nodded.

“Moms on her way.” She informed and YN nodded, wringing her hands and walking towards the window. The sun as setting now, deep oranges and purples painting the sky and somehow settling YN’s anxious heart. She was hooked up to portable monitors, now and the steady beep of heart heart beat echoes around the room. Steve had taken YN directly to Cho following their fight, and after a sweep of YN’s cervix, Cho had informed that YN was 5 centimetres dilated and was since checked in— she was officially in active labour.

“Steve.” YN called and he was by her side in an instant. YN grabbed his hands and tucked herself into his chest, groaning into his shirt as another, stronger contraction rock her. She felt it not only in her lower belly, but shattering up her spine and stealing her breath.

“Breathe, Mama.” He cooed, letting her dig her fingernails into his skin, rocking her and kissing her hairline. “Doin’ so good, Ma. You got this.” He whispered, acting quickly and picking her up and onto his lap as he knees gave out. He angled her to straddle him, thinking that it would be good for her legs to keep open. He continued rubbing her back and speaking sweet nothings into her ear as she curled into him as close as she could, shaking with aftershocks even after the contraction had gone.

“Holy fuck.” YN berthed into his neck and he chuckled.

“That was a good one, YN. You killed it.” He reassured and YN sat up, rubbing her eyes and stretching her neck, trying her best to keep her muscles from bunching up too much.

“Your kid is a pain in my ass.” She cursed and put her hands on his pecs, glaring down at him with swollen eyes. Instead of responding, Steve tilted his chin towards her and she leaned in, kissing him quickly before letting him help her to her feet so she could continue her pacing. She glanced over at the group of people on the couch, and flushed lightly at the thought of them seeing her like that— so vulnerable.

Sam and Bucky looked horrified, but impressed and Natasha looked proud, and almost a little sad. This was all interrupted by Cho walking in with a handful of long, metal tools.

“Hey, Mom.” She greeted YN and YN smiled weakly, eyeing to tools suspiciously. “So, I think we could progress this a little quicker if I broke your water, since it hasn’t broken yet. It should encourage the process.” She smiled and YN looked nervously as Steve before nodding. She was helped immediately up on the bed and after Steve kicked out Sam and Bucky for obvious reasons, sat by YN’s head as she put her feet into the stirrups.

“Scared you’re gonna pass out again?” YN teased and he blushed, grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles.

“I’m never living that down, am I.”

“Never.”

Cho made quick work of the water, and Steve watched as YN felt it. It felt less dramatic than she had imagined it, but still felt about five pounds lighter than she had mere seconds ago.

“Woah.” Yn whispered and Steve chuckled, kissing her forehead softly and praising her once more.

________________________

“Breathe (2AM)”— Anna Nalick

10:15 PM

The pain got worse for YN after the water had been broken. The contractions were hitting harder and faster, and YN felt as if her whole body was on fire. There was a constant leaking from YN’s vagina that made her feel gross and unnattractive, but the way Steve held her and kissed her and made her feel like she was a damn superhero made it almost worth it.

After another body-trembling contraction passed, YN reached towards Steve who took her hand.

“Can we shower. I need a shower, maybe it’ll help to have hot water.” YN slurred, pain making her a little bleary of the world. Steve nodded and made quick work of her gown— the diaper having been long gone, and pulled her into the bathroom and standing shower. He took of his pants and shirt, and leaving his underwear on, stepped under the hot stream of water. He took the second detachable shower head and angled it at YN’s core and she sighed, nodding into his shoulder at the small bit of relief it gave her.

The relief disappeared quickly, however, when another course fo pain rocketed through her body, making her knees tremble. Steve held her in his arms, shushing her and holding her as she short of screamed into his shoulder, sinking her teeth into the muscle and growling.

“Steve, Steve I can’t— this— I hurts.” YN whimpered, cutting herself off with a scream that tore his heart into two. “I need— mom. Where’s my mom.” She sobbed and Steve looked back towards the door at Nat who was hovering worriedly.

“She’s just pulling in, Sweets. She’ll be here in a minute okay?” Natasha said and YN nodded, clutching Steve and shaking— chills and jitters cutting through the hot water of the shower. It wasn’t long until her mom came into the bathroom and YN sobbed with relief.

“Mommy, you came I wasn’t sure—“

“Of course I would come for you, my love. You’re my baby girl and always will be no matter what anyone thinks, okay?” The older lady reassured and Steve mouthed a quick thank you o her which she smiled softly at.

“Mama, I know that I haven’t been to church in years, but can you— can you pray for me and Steve and baby? Please, I just need to know that He’s watching out for us.” YN cried, pain making her tired and emotional— hell, if Steve had been labouring for fourteen hours, he’d probably be dead in the street somewhere. Steve made room for Ms. YLN as she leaned into the shower, placing one hand on Steve’s shoulder and the other on YN’s. She bowed her head, and waited for the lump in her throat to pass before she spoke.

“Dear Heavenly Father, watch over this new family. Allow for the reprieve and mercy of pain, and allow for YN to have as safe a labour as possible. Allow for Steve to stay strong and resilient by her side as YN pushes her body to its limits— those same limits You set for her. Allow her a healthy, strong baby, and I call for Your blessing over this labour and the baby’s life. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.” She finished and Steve sniffed as he held his sobbing wife body. Her own wet hand had come to clutch her mothers bicep and her lips trembled as she thanked her.

“Thank you, Mommy. That meant so, so much.” YN said, and Ms. YLN nodded, leaning in and kissing YN’s wet forehead.

“It meant so much to me too, Bear.”

_________________________

July 4th, Steve and baby’s birthday

12:00 AM

“The Middle”— Mree / “The Funeral”— Band of Horses

Steve liked to think he was brave. He’d done a lot of really cool things in his life that required a lot of bravery, but right now Steve had never been more afraid in his life. YN had been in labour for an ongoing sixteen hours and the four hours YN had been in active labour had so far been the worst of his life. Sure, he was over the moon over the fact that he was going to meet his baby soon, but seeing YN in this much pain, begging for him to help her stop the pain and not having any sense of control was scary, and Steve didn’t feel very brave if he was going to be honest.

Especially when YN was shutting down on him after hearing Dr. Cho telling her that her cervix hadn’t dilated any further since she��d entered active labour. She stared forlornly out of the window, eyes on the stars as Steve held her opposite hand, kissing her knuckles and watching her, silently begging for her to look at him. Natasha had brought in electric candles and a speaker to help YN relax and create a comfortable atmosphere. Maybe it was working, Steve wasn’t sure. Any sort of contraction that shattered YN to her bones was only felt through Steve’s hand. YN’s body remained limp against the sheets as she continued to stare— the only indication of her being alive still was the heart monitor and the death grip on his hand every three minutes.

“Baby.” He whispered as she loosened her grip, panting slightly as another contraction finished. Finally, she lolled her head towards him, and Steve wants to cry when she saw how puffy and dark her eyes had gotten. She looked so damn tired and hopeless and Steve would have given anything to take her pain from her. Anything.

“Sweetheart, please.” He whispered and YN closed her eyes, frown tugging at her lips.

“What, Steve?” Her voice was hard, but it shook with frustration and grief.

“I don’t— I don’t know.” He admitted, and YN opened his eyes. “I’m scared. And I want you to look at me.”

“I’m scared too, if that helps.” YN tried to smile, shrugging her shoulders and looking back up at the roof.

“I’m sorry I did this to you, baby.” He murmured and YN looked at him sharply. Her vision swam with the quick movement and she squinted her eyes at her husband.

“I’m not. Steve Rogers, don’t you ever apologize for giving me a normal life. Never apologize for you giving me a baby, and marrying me, and taking all of this responsibility even though we were complete strangers when we met. Don’t you dare apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for, my love.” YN said, voice strong and Steve nodded, unfurling her fist in his hands and kissing her clammy palm. The salt on his lips was still there when she wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him close, kissing him softly. She kissed him until a low moan rumbled from her throat, and she pressed her forehead against his as she rocked her body through the pain. Eventually her familiar, warm eyes met his and he nodded.

“Good girl, baby.” He praised and she smiled, nodding and falling back to her pillows. There was a stretch of silence as the song switched, a familiar song coming through the speaker Nat had brought.

“Love this song.” YN hummed, lolling her head from one side to another, and Steve stood, making her look at him. He held out his hands to her and wiggled his fingers, beckoning for her to take them. “What?”

“Dance with me. Maybe it’ll help.” He tried, and YN blushed lightly.

“I’m sweaty.” She whispered and he rolled his eyes, making ‘gimme’ motions with his hands.

“You’re beautiful.” He smiled and YN couldn’t help but smile and bite her bottom lip, rolling to sit up straight and letting Steve pull her to her feet. He lead her to the middle of the room after slipping her slippers on her feet, pulling her into his arms and just swaying. They had tried to dance like they used to in the ‘good ol’ days’, but Steve had two left feet when he tried, so swaying would have to suffice.

YN wrapped her hands around his waist, tucking her fingers into the back pockets of his jeans as his hot hands rubbed her back, soothing her and pressing lightly into the muscles he knew bugged her when she was stressed. They spun in circles for what could have been an hour or a year or three seconds, but the contractions that came seemed manageable in his arms. They seemed manageable when he could pepper words of praises and kisses across her sweating hairline.

“I love you, YN Rogers, and I’m in awe of how damn powerful you are, okay?” He whispered and YN shook in his arms, nodding into his shoulder as he continued to sway her. “How’s the dancing?”

“Dancing helps.” There was a period of silence before YN popped her head up quickly. “What time is it?”

Steve glanced at the clock on the wall and squinted, his eyes dry from exhaustion.

“Midnight.”

YN jumped up on her toes as eagerly as she could, cupping Steve’s face in her hands and kissing him quickly all over his face before wrapping her arms around his neck and giggling as she was spun in the air slowly.

“What was that for?” Steve laughed as he set her gently on her feet again, stars shining in his eyes as he looked down at his best girl.

“It’s your birthday, Steve. Happy birthday.” She whispered against his lips and he smiled, wrapping his arms around her and feeling her belly press hard against his own.

“Best birthday ever, honestly.”

___________________________

3:00 AM

Six hours into active labour, Dr. Cho did a sweep of YN’s cervix, and upon new that she’d dilated from five centimetres to six centimetres.

“That’s good, right? Progress.” Steve asked, hopefully and Cho gave her best ‘yes and no’ patient smile.

“Well, progress is progress, but with the water having been broken for more than six hours with such slow progress, there’s more and more of a risk of infection for mom. YN, your cervix is also getting a little swollen, so that may impede your progress just a little bit.” Cho said, grimly and YN dropped Steves hand, curling them around her belly.

“So what do we do?”

“I know we said we weren’t going to do an epidural, but it could help the muscles in your abdomen and the cervix itself relax.” Cho tried and YN sank back, looking at her cuticles and trying her damn best not to cry. She’d always imagined herself being one of those badass moms in the birthing vlogs she watched on youtube— catching their own babies in a tub and doing it at home and without epidural, but they hadn’t told her about the pain— the raw, genuine, awful pain that she was feeling currently as well as how damn disheartening it was to make such little progress. She looked at Steve who nodded, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

“I want you to be safe, and seeing you in this much pain is the worst thing I’ve experienced. I can’t make you do anything, but I think it could be a good idea.” He tried, treading lightly. YN, if she was in less pain, she would have told Steve that she felt as if she had some sort of control over her body without it, but the exhaustion in her bones and the twitching of her muscles screamed for relief.

“Let’s do it, please.” YN begged and Steve relaxed, leaning forward towards YN and pressing his head against her stomach.

“Thank you.” He murmured.

So, this is how YN found herself tied down with wires and three catheters, stuck to the bed until Steve’s child decided to enter the world. Steve watched as she slept, contractions coming and going as mere pressure when they came.

YN cracked an eye open, and Steve smiled tiredly at her. She ran he palm down the side fo his face and he rested his head in her hand, sighing and shutting his burning eyes.

“Steve, get up here, please.” She whispered, and he lifted his head, shaking it slightly.

“Gotta make sure, you’re okay.” He whispered, knowing that if he got into bed with his wife he would sleep like a god damn rock.

“We’re okay. Come sleep, we’re not going to be getting any more sleep for a while so let’s catch up while we still can.” YN smiled, pulling at his arm and cheering when he conceded, pulling the heavy quilt that Ms. YLN had brought them. Steve, careful of the wires and tubes, pulled YN into his arms, holding her jittery body in his arms and closing his eyes, the weight of his wife and unborn child lulling him into the most comforting nap he’d ever had.

_____________________________

“Pretty Things”— Big Thief

6:15 AM

Someone was screaming. Loudly, somewhere very close to his ear. Steve woke with a jolt, and upon immediately waking up and looking down at his wife, found the something was very, very wrong. YN was screaming, yelling for Dr. Cho and her mother, but she was not yelling from the pain— the epidural, thankfully, allowed her to not feel whatever was making her bleed.

Maybe bleeding was an understatement, considering that the lower half of the quilt was warm and red and sticky, and Steve hands were covered in it.

“Steve! Steve, what’s going on?!” YN cried, clutching her stomach and shaking. Steve looked down at the blood in shock, and he complied easily when four hands pulled him off of the bed. The quilt was torn from the bed by Cho, and Steve felt a wave of nausea tear through his body.

There was so much blood.

“Steve! Help me!” YN sobbed, and Steve remained frozen. He did not feel very brave at all.

“It must have not shown up on the scans. Damn it!” Cho cursed, pressing a button attached to the bed and flattening it, throwing the pillows across the room and barking orders at her nurses. YN continued to cry, looking up at Steve, who upon realizing that this was not just a really, really bad dream, snapped out of his fog and rushed to YN, grabbing her hand and walking with the bed as it began to roll out of the room and towards the small operating room at the back of the small clinic.

“Baby, you’re going to be okay, I promise.” Steve ignored Cho’s sharp look as she pushed the bed faster, eyeing the blood nervously. “You’re going to come out of this, okay?”

YN cried, and cupped his cheek.

“Sarah. You name the baby Sarah if it’s a girl after your mom and Charlie if it’s a boy— after my dad. They go to a good public school— enough to get a solid education but do NOT send them to a private school they’ll turn into a bitch. They get to go on all their high school trips. It’s something that I wish I did, and you retire, okay? If I’m not there they need someone to raise them with everything they need. And Steve, you tell them the good things. You tell them that we were happy and that we loved each other and that this was the best nine months I’ve ever had because I had the family I always dreamed of having. You tell them the good parts.” YN demanded, and Steve felt his eyes well up with tears, his face becoming wet within seconds.

“You’re not dying. You can’t die.” Steve whimpered, sounding a broken man.

“Wow, no pressure.” YN said, voice now weak. Her skin was the palest and most translucent Steve had ever seen, and her lips were blue. Her grip on his hand was weak, and her eyes grew glossy soon enough.

“I’m serious, YN.” He called out as she was rolled into the OR, the nurses working quickly to prep her for surgery. Just as Cho made to step in, Steve grabbed her arm tightly and stared her down with all the emotion he could muster.

“If it comes down to her or the baby, you save her. I will not survive without her do you hear me?” He snarled, face contorting with fear and anger. Cho jerked her arm from Steve’s grip and glared harder, straightening her posture and staring Steve down.

“How about you let me do my damn job.” Cho demanded, and walked into the room, shutting the door and leaving Steve alone in the hallway. Unaware of Natasha, Sam and Bucky staring at him, he pressed himself against the wall beside the door, slid down it, wrapped his arms around his knees, and for the first time in eighty years, sobbed like he had never sobbed before.

____________________________

6:40 AM

Steve had been coaxed to the waiting room chairs and his hands were cleaned of YN’s blood, and he was given new clothes which he was helped into in the middle of the waiting room. Once changed, he resumed his curled up position and stared at the trail of blood leading from the room where YN was last okay to the room where he didn’t know if she was alive or not. Steve watched as the custodian mopped the trail, leaving the acrid smell of bleach behind. Steve stared at the polished floor, not feeling Bucky’s and on his shoulder, and not feeling Natasha’s hand on his knee.

Steve continued to stare at the floor as a nurse walked up, afraid to see the expression on her face. The words she spoke were muffled and far away, but he heard them.

“Steve, you have a beautiful baby boy. He’s healthy and crying and all of his tests have passed with flying colours. Would you like to see him?” Steve blinked slowly, body swaying as Bucky and Sam clapped his shoulders. He moved slowly, looking up at the nurse who as beaming down a him and he squinted. He felt as if his body was not his own, moving both too fast and too slow to feel like it.

“Where’s— YN. Is she..” He trailed off, heart feeling frozen in his chest— that is if it was even there any more.

“There was another complication, she’s still in surgery, and it could be a while.” The nurse said, and Steve’s lips and chin wobbled. He felt more tears dance down his cheekbones and into his beard. “You can see your son, though.”

Steve blinked and sank back into his chair.

“No.”

______________________________

“Toronto”— Tusks

8:00 AM

Exactly one day ago, YN Rogers was staring out over the compound grounds from Steve Rogers window, smiling at the touch of the warm July breeze and kissing Steve happily. Her body was warm and soft and tangible in his hands, and Steve squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to remember the last time he was alone and happy and carefree with the woman he loved. The memory already felt like it happened a while ago— it was grey and distant and the images in his mind were fuzzy. Her face was blurry, and her laugh wasn’t quite right, no matter how much he squeezed his eyes and thought about it. He tried to remember how she smelled, and how she jolted when his fingers danced over her ribs or how they would spend hours in bed before either of them even thought about getting up. But the happy— the good things he was supposed to try to tell the kid about were marred but he sound of her screams and her hands gripping him and the trail of blood that was bleached hours ago.

He had a kid. A son, he was supposed to name Charlie. A beautiful, innocent son that didn’t deserve the black spot he had in Steve’s heart. Natasha had come back after meeting him, and she had said that Charlie had Steve’s nose, and YN’s lips and eyes and hair and cried like a banshee which was a good thing apparently, since it meant the kid had good lungs.

“He needs you, Steve. He should be in your arms and hearing your voice.” Natasha whispered and Steve’s eyes, dark and angry snapped up to her.

“That kid could have killed the woman I loved. As far as I care, until YN comes out of that OR alive, that’s no kid of mine.” Steve snarled, standing suddenly and making Natasha jump back. She had never seen her best friend this angry before— not fighting, not as Nomad. She had never seen Steve this dark, and as he slammed his shoulder against her own as he stormed out of the med bay, her knees gave out and she fell, shaking into one of the chairs.

____________________________

“Rescue”— Lauren Daigle

9:19 AM

Steve was sitting on a roll of grass not far from the entrance to the compound, resting his chin against his arms and staring sightlessly at the recruits training far away. Imagine being that carefree, he thought. To have woken up today and pressed snooze. To have rushed a shower and breakfast to make it to the gym in time. To have smiled at a friend and felt excitement when you completed the ‘Captains Circuit’ for the first time successfully.

Steve remained still as he heard someone walk up behind him. He stayed still as Bucky cleared his throat and groaned slightly as he joined Steve on the grass. Steve stayed still when Bucky cleared his throat and opened his mouth.

“He’s gorgeous, Steve. He has your spunk, I think— he spit up on Nat when she made a bad joke. He’s fat, too. Really chubby and soft and he’s really alert and he keeps looking around the room for someone he finds familiar. Someone who talked to him when he was cookin’ and his Ma was sleepin’. Someone who left the house at four in the morning to go to the Bronx for the right Pizza cause his Ma was craving it. Someone who painted him a beautiful room and who made sure his development was as safe as possible. He’s looking for his father, but all he’s getting is uncles and aunts and nurses and—“

“Shut up.” Steve mumbled and Bucky glared hard at him.

“No I will not—“

“Shut the fuck up, James Barnes.” Steve snarled, and Bucky stood to his feet, walking in front of Steve and kicking his foot hard enough to make Steve flinch.

“You listen—“

“SHUT UP!” Steve roared, and he could hear the grounds fall quiet. He could hear the training stop and the word quiet and he swore the Earth stopped turning just for one second.

“NO!” Bucky screamed back, not backing down when Steve rose to his feet and got in his face. “You’re scared I get that! But if YN lives and finds out that you weren’t there for your baby boy in his first few hours how will she fucking feel about that, huh? How will she feel about how her husband and the man she loves screamed at his best friends and ignored the fact that his son hasn’t stopped crying because he’s scared and there’s not one familiar thing around him. How will she feel when she finds out that you fucking failed her?” Bucky snarled, and Steve shrank back and blinked.

“And if she doesn’t come out of this? You’re dishonouring her memory and her dying wish that this kid should have a good life. You’re a coward, Steve Rogers.” Bucky spat and Steve stumbled back at his best friends words, the first wave of aggression telling him to hit Bucky until he was unrecognizable and bleeding on the ground— to spit on his body and get in a car and drive far and fast away from this god damn place. However, the second wave— the love he felt for the woman he swore he would breathe for stopped him. The second wave made his eyes grow hot and wet, and his bottom lip tremble. The second wave made his back slouch and shoulders slump and start to fall to his knees, and upon the sight of seeing his best friend shrink in on himself, Bucky Barnes caught his elbows and pulled him tight, supporting all of Steve weight as he sobbed, without restraint, into Bucky’s shoulder.

“How about we go introduce you to your son, huh?”

_________________________

“Love Like This”— Lauren Daigle

9:30 AM

“I should have shaved. I look like a fuckin’ slob.” Steve cursed, running his hand over his chin as he passed a window. Bucky rolled his eyes next to him, but continued to walk beside him in case Steve’s knees gave out again.

“You’ll be fine.” Bucky reassured and Steve wrung his hands.

“I’ve already been a shit dad, what if he doesn’t like me? What if I continue being a shit dad?” Steve worried, fear gripping his heart at the idea. God, if YN didn’t make it and if he was a bad father, what the hell was he supposed to do? He didn’t even know how to be a good dad— how the fuck was he supposed to do it as a widow?

“Steven.” Bucky shushed and Steve nodded, coming up to the door where his son was. Bucky, upon waiting long enough for Steve to not open the door, opened it himself and pushed it open.

The room was open and airy— it smelled clean and the blankets looked soft and welcoming— YN would have loved them, maybe even convinced Steve to steal some of them for their own house. The room had a good, calming atmosphere— except for the screaming.

Natasha was bouncing lightly on her feet, a blue bundle in her arm as she tried but failed to angle a bottle at it properly. The bundle was the thing making the noise, and Steve felt his heart jump into his throat. He shoved the image of YN’s screams aside and focussed very hard on the bundle.

“Nat.” Bucky’s voice sounded far away, and when Natasha turned towards it, Steve’s breath stopped in his chest.

Charlie was crying, his small, tiny face was as red as a tomato, and it was twisted around the screams coming from his little mouth. Steve stumbled forward, and upon closer inspection, Steve recognized YN’s nose, and his own chin and brow bone. As he got closer, Steve’s heart ached— in fact, his whole body ached and he looked nervously from Natasha to the baby.

“Charlie— look who it is.” Natasha said over his cries, walking over to Steve and coaching him on how to wrap his arms around him. Steve felt stupidly big as he took Charlie in his arms— his head was no larger than the size of his palm for gods sake. Upon feeling the overwhelming heat from Steve’s body, the screams softened into sobs and he looked up, scared.

“What’s going on?” Steve worried as the baby got quieter and quieter. “Why’s he stopping?”

“He hears your voice and feels you— it’s familiar.” Natasha nodded, patting his shoulder and looking down at Charlie. Natasha pulled Buky from the room, having the two persons alone together, and Steve’s entire universe seemed to shift— just the slightest, as Charlie stopped crying, wrinkled face smoothing out as Steve continued to rock him.

“H-hi.” Steve stuttered, and Charlie hiccupped. “I’m uhh— I’m your dad, I guess.” He tried, regretting that he sounded so damn lame. The baby made a small noise and Steve felt the dark place his heart was right now warm a little. “I’m sorry I’ve been a bad dad, pal. Your Ma— she’s not doing so well and I’m scared because I love her a lot. She was— is— my world, and I—“ Steve cut himself off, tightening his arms slightly. “I’m gonna try my best to make it up to you, baby. Treat you the way your Ma and I wanted to from the beginning.” He whispered, lips shaking with grief and fear and love.

Without looking from Charlie, he walked to a chair and sat, grabbing the bottle from the table beside him and angling it awkwardly to his lips— YN’s lips.

“We gotta eat, though okay? You Ma would kill me if you got hungry.” He whispered, pressing the nipple of the bottle to his lips, and he sucked in a breath when the little mouth opened, taking the nipple into his mouth and beginning to drink the formula. The little guy finished the bottle quickly— there wasn’t much in it to begin with. Steve, remembering the birthing classes we went to with YN, threw a small towel from the table beside him over his shoulder and lifted Charlie onto it, tapping his back as gently as he could until the smallest, quietest of burps sounded.

Steve lowered Charlie in his arms, too astounded at this… being he created to say anything. God, how he regretted his anger and fear and resentment to this perfect little human. Well, he thought he regret it until his eyes opened.

YN’s eyes stared back at him, surrounded by Steve’s eyelashes— large and slightly unfocussed and YN’s eyes. Steve felt his body clench around his rapidly warming heart and he let out a dry sob, tracing a huge finger down Charlie’s fat little cheek as he curled himself around him. No matter how the rest of the day panned out, Steve knew, with one look at Charlie, that YN would live within him forever. YN would be staring back at him from a crib, or a carseat, or from his arms as he tried his best to stay awake in that rocking chair because he’s be damned if he wasn’t watching over him one second of a day. YN’s eyes would be looking at him as Charlie took his first step or said his first word or as he looked back at Steve while he bravely walked into his first day of school. YN’s lips would frown and smile and laugh and yell, and Steve would brush YN’s hair, styling it properly and kissing it any damn chance he got.

“I love you.” Steve whispered, voice cracking as a tear dripped from the tip of his nose onto the soft blanket. “I love you, I love you, I love you, my Charlie. I love you.” He bent over and pressed his nose to Charlies tiny chest and sniffed as he felt Charlie’s hands curl into Steve’s beard. His grip was strong— strong enough anyways for such little hands. “I love you.”

Steve could have been there for days— he wasn’t too sure, but the bubble he had constructed around him and his beautiful, innocent son was burst when a polite cough sounded from the doorway. Steve looked up quickly, and his heart— now warm and bright with love for this little bundle hammered in his chest.

It was Helen Cho, and her face had no expression.

_______________________________

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watchmegetobsessed · 6 years ago

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Señorita - Shawn Mendes (pt 2)

yall went crazy for my senorita imagine, thank you for the love you showed it, now im bringing you part 2!! im having an amazing time writing about bad boy shawn, not sure how long this will turn out to be but i hope yall will stick with me during this journey! literally spent my last 24 hours writing it so i can bring the second part as soon as possible and im sooo excited about it!!

5k of angst, fluff and pure anxiety

ALSO for that nosy ass anon, i inserted a keep reading function, hope your life is happy now :)))))))))) (though its not showing on the app for me only on pc and this is why i dont fuck around with these kind of stuff)

part 1 - part 3

masterlist

Three days. It has been three day since you spent the night with Shawn. He promised to come by the diner the next day but he never showed up. By the end of your shift you were basically a nerve-wreck, hoping to find him leaning against his bike outside, but the parking lot was painfully empty.

You don’t even have his number. For fuck’s sake, you don’t even know if he has a phone! These three days just gave you a million opportunities to think about how stupid you were to fall for his games. He probably never thought of you as more than just a one night stand. It even crossed your mind that you might have just been a bet with his stupid friends and you willingly gave his victory to him. Anger, hatred, disappointment and regret fueled your body that night when he failed to show up as promised. You wanted to cry, scream and shout, but at the end you felt like it’s just… not worth it.

“Rosie, you know I love you, but I can’t keep up with my and your tables as well,” you tell your favorite co-worker once you are back in the kitchen and find her sitting on the counter top, scrolling through her phone.

“I’m sorry, but this is just blowing my mind,” she tells you, her eyes wide at the screen while you put the dirty dishes into the sink and start rinsing them off, something you always do to make the work of the kitchen staff easier.

“What’s so important that you can’t do your job?” you ask a little annoyed, but more curious.

“There was a huge scuffle downtown like an hour ago.”

“What?” you snap, your stomach immediately dropping. You squeeze yourself up to her side as she scrolls through the short news article. It doesn’t say much, only that the police was called because probably two rival gangs had a fight and someone heard a gunshot as well. Two guys were caught, but you know neither of them is Shawn because they would have already made sure everyone in town knows Shawn Mendes was caught.

“Damn it,” you mumble, your thoughts racing faster than ever.

You might be hating on the guy, but you definitely don’t want him to get hurt. That gunshot makes your stomach churn when you think that the bullet might have ended up in him for all you know.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?” Rob’s voice makes both of you jump as he stares at you in disbelief. His mouth in a disapproved grimace under his rather disgusting mustache, his hands on his hips. “I’m not paying you to chit-chat in the kitchen. Get out and do your job!”

Rosie and you rush out, leaving the steamy kitchen behind as you quickly start pretending like you are so busy with work, just until Rob disappears in his office again, not giving a flying fuck about what’s going outside.

You take some orders and bring out some drinks before going back to the kitchen to hide behind the fridge. Pressing your back to the wall you slide down and hug your knees to your chest, not able to get Shawn out of your mind. The painful inertia is just killing you, not even knowing where he is and if he is okay.

Your mind leaves your body by the end of your shift. You keep messing the orders up and you can’t stop apologizing, but you just couldn’t get Shawn off of your mind and you hate him for that. The thought of going to bed seems like heaven to you when you arrive to your house. You slide your key into the lock, but you notice the door is not locked and you freeze.

Can it be that you forgot to lock the door this morning? You were pretty tired, it would make sense, but it’s not something that has happened before.

Reaching into your bag you grab your pepper spray, ready to defend yourself against anything that’s waiting for you inside. You slowly open the door, walking inside as quiet as possible, holding the spray up as your eyes scan the room. Nothing seems to be odd, Gordon walks out of the bathroom so calmly that he almost convinces you there is no one else in the house, but you’re still not sure about that.

Brushing himself against your leg he purrs for you before moving to the couch and curling up on one of the pillows. You are just about to believe that the place is clear when you hear a noise coming from the bathroom.

You glance at Gordon as if he could tell you what it was, after all he just came out of there and didn’t seem to be bothered. You make your way towards the bathroom, still holding the spray up. Pushing the door open you step inside and suddenly a hand wraps around your wrist.

“Fuck!” you scream, your finger missing the top of the spray and you even drop it, almost pissing your pants.

“Hey, it’s just me!” you hear a familiar voice but it can’t stop your body from shaking like a leaf.

You finally make Shawn’s tall figure out in the dark, his large hands taking yours as he pulls you closer to him and you let him do so.

“Shit, Shawn!” you gasp on the verge of tears. You’ve never been more scared for your life. His arms wrap around your body as he holds you tight, your face pressed against the hot skin of his chest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispers gently stroking your hair as you slowly calm down, recovering from your heart-attack.

Once you are back, mind and body functioning again you firmly push him away from you, letting your frustration explode out of you.

“Where the fuck have you been?!” you snap at him, but your anger quickly disappears when you see his face turn into a painful grimace as his hands cover his ribs on his right side, close to where you just pushed him. “Oh my God, what’s wrong?” you panic, quickly reaching for the light switch.

You can’t believe your eyes when you see the huge bruise on his side. It’s as big as his hand twice and the colors are not too promising either as his skin is painted in blue, green, purple and red making up a galaxy-like patch on his torso.

“Shit, I think it’s broken,” you gasp taking a better look at it.

“It’s alright, I just need some ice on it,” he breathes out, trying his best to cover up his pain, but you see right through him.

“Come on.”

You pull him out of the small bathroom, making him sit on the couch. Gordon eyes him curiously as he holds his hand to his side while you jog to the fridge. You grab the icepack from freezer and return to him, kneeling down in front of him, gently peeling his hand off of his wound.

“How did you even get into my house?” you ask as you gently put the icepack to his side and he hisses from the sudden feeling.

“Keys under the flowerpot? Pretty predictable,” he smirks at you between two grimaces as his hand takes up your hand’s place on the pack and he holds it to his side. You mentally note to look for a better hiding spot for your spare key.

“And what were you doing in the bathroom in the dark?”

“I uh… I wanted to lay down in the bathtub, hoping it would feel nice and cold.”

“But I don’t have a bathtub.”

“Yeah, I figured it out right when you got home.”

Leaning back on the couch he keeps his eyes closed and you’re not sure what you should do now. Should you kick him out? Or ask what the fuck happened in the past few days? You realize you are not even in a real relationship to question him about his whereabouts.

Standing up you are about to go to the kitchen for some water maybe when his eyes pop open and grabbing your hand he pulls you down next to him.

“Where are you going?”

“To get some water?”

“No need for that,” he smiles at you tiredly as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, trying to make you cuddle to his side that’s not beaten up, but you move back. “What’s wrong?”

“Shawn, you can’t just appear after days and pretend like nothing really happened.”

“Are you mad because I disappeared?”

He tries to pull you back to him, but you need space. You hop to your feet and he follows you, putting the height difference to your list of anxieties. You can’t think straight when he is towering above you with his defined jawline and hazel eyes.

“You disappeared, got into a fight and then broke into my house bruised up, expecting me to just pretend like it’s normal. It’s not normal for me, Shawn.”

“I know,” he sighs and for the first time you see him anxious, though he is doing a good job hiding it. You almost missed it. “And I’m sorry. I really am.”

His fingers brush against your cheek, leaning closer his nose touches your forehead and you are determined to avoid looking into his eyes knowing well you’d just get weak.

“Shawn, I can’t do this,” you say, your voice barely more than just a whisper.

“Do what?”

“This. You and me. It’s just not working, okay?” Taking a step away from him you lose physical contact with him as he stands there, staring at you a bit confused.

“How do you know it’s not working if you don’t even give it a chance?”

“I gave it,” you snap, finally finding the courage to look at him. “That night when I was at your place, but it went to nothing when you disappeared for three days.”

“Y/N, I told you, that I’m sorry,” he repeats as if saying it again and again solves everything instantly. It’s obvious he has never had to work for anyone like this which kind of makes you proud of yourself, but you don’t let him know that.

“Saying that you’re sorry is not changing anything,” you tell him. “Not that anything should be changed, this whole thing was over before it could start.”

“Don’t say that!” he suddenly snaps, raising his voice. You’re quite taken aback from his reaction and it must be showing on your face because he quickly holds himself back, lowering his tone when he continues. “Don’t just give up on me so easily. Please.” Closing the distance between the two of you he throws the icepack to the side so both his hands are free to hold your face in them.

“Why don’t you give up on me?” you whisper feeling yourself reaching your breaking point. His forehead rests on yours, the physical contact is basically making you see sparkles.

“Because I know that I just can’t. I don’t know why. Please, just… give me one more chance.”

There is something in it when he starts begging. You don’t know if he is doing it on purpose or not, but it’s putting a spell on you whenever he says the magic word, please. Your brain wants to send him away, teach him a well-deserved lesson, but your heart takes over this time.

“Okay. But we need to lay out some rules.”

“Rules?” he asks, his face lighting up.

“Yes. And please, take them seriously,” you firmly say, wanting him to know that this is important for you.

“I will. Promise. Let’s talk about those rules, Señorita.”

You make them clear and easy.

One, he has to let you know by the end of every day that he is alright. For this you finally exchange numbers, which just feels ridiculous if you think about how this should have happened at the very beginning if it was a normal relationship. You don’t ask for much, just a text is enough, the best if he comes by the diner, but you can’t expect him to spend all his time around you.

Two, no more sneaking into your house. You just can’t risk attacking him because you think it’s an intruder.

And three… Be honest.

“I’m already honest with you, Y/N,” he says narrowing his eyes at you, not really understanding what you mean.

“Uhuh, like the other time when you said you didn’t know those guys who started the fight. They called you by name, I’m not stupid, you knew them.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh he presses his lips into a thin line. You push yourself up, looking down at his lying figure on your bed. His side still looks horrible, but he keeps telling it’s fine even though you are pretty sure his ribs are broken.

“There are some things that are best if you don’t know about.”

This uneasy, bitter feeling is back. You sit up, turning away from him. You were dumb enough to think that he wants to change for the better for you, but it seems like he is not willing to leave his lifestyle back anytime soon.

“What did I say this time?” he sighs pushing himself up, wincing a little at the movement.

“Nothing,” you mumble, making your way into the bathroom. You pray he doesn’t follow, but you are out of luck. As you grab your night shirt you see him in the mirror, appearing behind you.

“Y/N, honesty goes for both of us. What’s gotten you upset?”

You refuse to look at him, just take your shirt and pants off, acting like he is not even there. You sleep in an oversized t-shirt, so you just throw it on and then take your bra off from under it. You see the smirk on his lips from your little maneuver and you know he is aching to comment on how he has seen everything under that shirt, but you’re glad he keeps it to himself.

“Y/N, please answer!” He turns you by your chin to face you and you are just silently fuming, not wanting to give the words into his mouth. “Baby, what did I do wrong this time?”

Why does he has to be so persistent? You know he is not letting it go and it’s obvious you are not getting out of the bathroom until you tell him what he wants.

“I just thought that you are going to give up all that dangerous stuff.”

You expect him to laugh at you. You feel ridiculous, so you are sure he thinks the same of you, but instead, his eyes soften at you as his hands slide down your side and to your waist.

“It’s not that simple,” he sighs, his voice laced with guilt. “I’ve tried to leave it all behind. Many times, but it’s not that easy.”

“But you can try at least,” you growl at him crabbed, taking a step back from him as you lean your back against the cold wall.

He stands there, clearly torn between two worlds. You hate giving ultimatums to people, it’d piss you off if it would be you on the other end, but Shawn seems to be calmer than what you expected. You could almost see the little devil and angel on his shoulders, whispering into his ears and you realize you are putting too much pressure on him. You can’t redeem the world in one day and he already agreed to a lot of other small things. Change doesn’t come over night.

Pushing yourself away from the wall you step closer to him, your hands slide up his chest to the base of his neck, the silver necklace rolling under your touch.

“I’m sorry, I was being greedy,” you whisper as you rest your forehead against his. “I have to be more patient with you.” He closes his eyes, arms around your body and you swear he is sniffing you, but you let it pass.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to be better. For you,” he whispers, eyebrows furrowed. Your lips brush against his and he quickly kisses you before another word could be said.

You moan into his mouth once you feel his tongue against yours. His fingers tangle into your hair and he starts to push you slowly right until your back hits the wall again. When your hands wander down on his naked torso you make sure not to hurt him around his wounded side, but it’s a little hard to contain yourself when his lips are traveling down on your neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on your heated skin.

Desire is burning between your legs and you just want to forget about everything that happened today, but you both know Shawn is not fine enough physically to deal with your endless lust right now.

The kisses slow down, panting echoes in the small bathroom as you try to catch your breath.

“Let’s get you to bed, okay?” you whisper, barely finding your own voice. He nods and you tangle yourself out from him.

Lying on the bed you curl up to his healthy side as he wraps his strong arms around your figure, his thumb repetedly caressing your shoulder as you listen to his steady heartbeat.

“Shawn?” you speak up after a while hoping he is not asleep just yet.

“Mmm,” he hums as a reply.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

His fingers stop for a few moments before he holds you tighter to his body, kissing into your hair.

“I’ll try.”

“So, I haven’t seen Mr. Danger around here lately.” Rosie arches an eyebrow at you while you are counting the fat tip you just got, tugging it away into your apron’s pocket.

“Who?” you ask, pretending not to know who she is talking about, but Shawn’s handsome face immediately pops up in your mind, almost making you smile.

“You know who I’m talking about,” she gives you a look as she fills up three cups with lemonade, but she keeps looking out for Rob. Apparently, he told her that she is skating on thin ice with her working attitude and needs to put more effort into her work if she wants to keep receiving her paychecks.

“Why would he come here?” you keep up the act.

“Oh, cut the shit, Y/N. What’s up with him, have you talked lately?”

You sigh, giving in, not wanting to torture her any longer, but just when you open your mouth the door of the diner flies open, the small bell rings in warning and you both turn just in time to see Shawn walk in, his usual leather jacket on, hair perfectly messy from probably riding his bike and he unhurriedly takes his aviator sunglasses off, his eyes lazily looking around the place until they find you and a smug smile plasters across his face.

“Holy shit,” you hear Rosie mumbling under her breath and you show an elbow to her side, making her lose balance for a moment. She shoots you a look, but you shoot it back.

“Show your tongue back into your mouth,” you tell her as you walk out from behind the counter, meeting Shawn midway between the tables.

“Hey there, Señorita.”

His large hands immediately slide to your side, holding you firmly as you throw your arms around his neck, your fingers finding his soft curls at the back of his head.

“Hi,” you whisper as he leans down and kisses you softly, making you forget about everything else that’s around you in this moment.

“You hungry?” you ask as you lead him to his usual box.

“For you? Always.”

You roll your eyes at his comment, but you can’t push a smile down as you look down at him.

“Anything from the menu?” you ask, and quickly add: “I’m not on the menu.”

“What a pity,” he sighs. “Then scrambled eggs with bacon, please. When are you going on a break?”

“Um, in about twenty,” you say checking the clock across the wall.

“Perfect,” he grins at you as you turn around and go back to Rosie behind the counter.

You give the order to the kitchen stuff and face Rosie’s questioning and shocked face.

“What the fuck was that?”

“What do you mean?” you ask innocently.

“Um, you eyefucking with none other than Shawn Mendes, the Greek god of town.”

“Rosie, do you ever filter what you say?” you ask gasping. You definitely did not eyefuck him. Or… did you?

“Is this like an official thing now?” she asks following you into the kitchen as you grab a Corona from the fridge for table 4.

“Kind of,” you shrug, making it look like it’s not a big deal, but your inner self has been jumping up and down for days now, screaming in happiness.

“Okay, you are telling me everything on the way home,” she demands before disappearing from your sight, not even giving you the chance to protest.

Bliss. Utter bliss. This is how you can describe the past few days.

You can tell Shawn has been doing everything he can to make things work for you. He spent the night at your place a few times and when he couldn’t, he made sure to call you before you go to sleep, just asking you about how your day has been, genuinely interested in everything you had to say. You spent another day off with him yesterday, just lazily chilling in bed, watching movies and having some steamy and hot sex, which is kind of your favorite part every time he is over.

He refused to go to a doctor with his side though, said he has a cousin who’s a doctor and that he checked it out, gave him some pills and said it’ll be alright. You’re skeptical about that, but you didn’t want to start a fight about that. It’s starting to look better anyway and he is not wincing anymore when you accidentally touch it.

You still worry about him whenever he is away, not really knowing what he is doing and that’s just too troublesome for you, but you are learning to deal with your own dark thoughts.

You feel like a giddy teenage girl as you move around the diner, doing your job, but sneakily keep glancing at Shawn who has his eyes glued to you the whole time.

“I can’t work like this,” you sigh stopping at his table and he blinks up at you angelically, pretending to be the most innocent guy in the world.

“What? I’m not doing anything!”

“You are basically stripping me with your eyes,” you whisper leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. You can feel eyes on you, some local women have been eyeing you enviously after seeing you and Shawn kiss, but you’re kind of enjoying it.

Yeah, bitches, take that! The town’s sexiest guy is all over me! You think to yourself.

“I’m sorry, but this skirt is just… making me feel things,” he sighs taking a good look at your work clothes. It’s a typical, light pink waitress uniform, the skirt might be a little shorter than the average, but Rob thinks that’s just bringing the tips in, so you don’t have anything against it. Apparently, Shawn shares the same thoughts as Rob, enjoying the view.

“I’m off in two. Wanna go outside?” you ask checking the time.

“Sure.”

You go back to the kitchen and grab your phone from the dressing room. You pull out the elastic from your hair, gently massaging your scalp where your bun was before.

“I’m going on my break!” you tell Rosie who is behind the register this time.

“Don’t want to hear moaning from the back, oh wait, maybe it might be hot. I like it, do what you want,” she smirks at you and you just give her a disapproving look.

“Filter, Rosie. Think about what you say before saying it!” you tell her walking away.

Shawn is already at the door, he opens it for you as the two of you walk out to the back of the building for some alone time.

His bike is parked by the wall, not far from the little bench you have there for those who smoke on their breaks.

“I missed you,” he mumbles into your neck, pulling you close immediately when you are out of the sight of the people on the road that runs in front of the diner.

“You mean in the twenty minutes that I had to work while you were staring at me?” you giggle, hands on his broad shoulders as you try not to moan from the way he is kissing your neck.

“Yeah. Hardest twenty minutes of my life.”

He backs you until you bump against the wall and he locks you there with his hands on each sides of your head. You hide yours behind your back as you blink up at him, biting into your bottom lip. His eyes are so much darker this time, lust burning in them as he takes his time looking you up and down.

“You are so fucking sexy, Señorita. You have no idea what you are doing to me.”

Desire laces through his voice, making your lower part catch on fire. Oh, how bad you wish you weren’t behind this building but home, in your bed, with no clothes on.

You tilt your head, your lips gently brushing against his arm, he smells like some kind of sweet cologne that you like so much. Pressing your lips to the inside of his arm you lightly suck on the thin skin, earning a satisfied moan from him, but it also throws him off the edge, dropping his hands to your waist and pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

One of his hands travel up to the back of your head, holding you in place while the other wanders down to your butt, rolling your skirt up so his palm is touching your skin instead of the fabric of the dress. You blindly pray no one is around to see this, you wouldn’t want anyone else to see your almost bare butt but on the other hand you just don’t want him to stop.

The sound of a bike approaching makes you push him away, afraid it’s coming near you. You quickly roll your skirt back down, just in time. A redhead guy appears on a bike, similar to Shawn’s. You’ve seen him before, he is one of Shawn’s friends for sure, but his face is making your stomach churn, the expression is making you want to run because you are sure he has bad news.

“Brian, what are you doing here?” Shawn asks, one arm around you protectively. You hug his waist, eyeing the guy with suspicion.

“You need to come. Wade and his rats are at Connor’s, they are saying one of us beat Wade’s nephew up last night.”

“What?” Shawn snaps. “Everyone was at yours last night, it couldn’t be us.”

The mentioning of Wade Salazar makes you sick to the stomach. The guy is a walking criminal record, spent at least five years in prison by the time he turned twenty-five, the police has been trying to catch him for good for so long, but somehow he always slips out of their hands for the big stuff. The most serious thing they could convict him of is drug trading, but somehow he managed to get away with most of the stuff even in that case. You always knew Shawn is rivals with him, but you refused to think about him getting involved with such a monster as him.

“Yeah, try telling that to Wade,” Brian scoffs. “We need you, he wants to talk to you.”

“Don’t go!” you find yourself saying it before you could hold yourself back.

You feel Brian’s burning gaze on you, but you ignore it, only focusing on Shawn and his clenching jaw.

“Give us a sec,” he tells to the redhead and pulls you a bit farther from his friend.

“Shawn, please don’t go,” you beg, feeling the tears dwelling in your eyes. Something in you is just screaming to make you stop him.

“I have to. These guys are like my brothers. Wade wants to talk to me and if I don’t go he’ll rip off Connor’s place.”

You can see the guilt in his eyes and you know he would rather stay with you, but he is also too protective over his friends and there is nothing you can do about that.

“It’ll be alright, okay? I’ll smooth it out, no fight involved. I’ll be at your place by the time you get home.”

“You promise?” A hot tear runs down your cheek and his thumb catches it right before it could reach your jawline. He kisses you hard, holding your face between his palms as you grab a fistful of his shirt in your hands.

“I promise,” he whispers kissing your forehead before letting you go.

You watch him jog over to his bike, your knees are shaking as you see him get on it and start the engine. He glances in your direction one more time, giving you a promising smile as you try not to sob, before he and Brian roll out of the parking lot and disappear from your sight.

“Woah, you look like shit,” Rosie grimaces at you when you come back from your break.

“Thanks for the support,” you mumble. You managed make the signs of crying disappear from your face, but you are definitely not feeling better.

“What did the fucker do to you?” she asks, ready to go full tiger mode on anyone.

“Nothing. Can we just… work?” you request tiredly and probably for the first time ever, Rosie just nods without a word.

The rest of your shift feels like hell. You keep checking your phone if there is anything from Shawn and you find yourself staring at the door many times, hoping to see him walk in, but nothing happens. Thankfully Rosie decides not to question you about Shawn on the way home, she just hugs you goodbye, telling you to call her if you want company when she gets off the bus.

When you turn the corner and start walking down your street your stomach drops when there is no sight of Shawn or his bike anywhere near. As your last string of hope you pray he is inside, he just didn’t come with the bike this time though you know it’s impossible.

Opening the door the only thing you see is darkness. Gordon welcomes you with a lazy meow from the couch as he lifts his head up for your arrival. You can’t stop the tears from flowing as you shut the door behind you and collapse on the couch. Grabbing a pillow you bury your face into it, trying to suffocate your desperate sobs as Gordon sniffs you worriedly, not really knowing what you are doing. You reach to scratch his head gently as he stares down at you as if he is questioning if you are alright.

But you are not. Shawn promised to be here and he failed to show up again. It’s breaking your heart ten times harder than last time and you just don’t know what to do with the situation anymore.

Minutes pass by, your sobs come to a halt as you sit in the dark without moving, staring at the same spot on the floor. You know you won’t be able to sleep tonight not knowing where he is or if he is alright. Last time when he didn’t come you just gave up, but you don’t feel like you can do that again. You have to do something, you can’t just sit around and see if he ever shows up again.

You are going to find out where this Connor guy lives and go there yourself. Tonight.

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