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echantedtoon · 6 months

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Demon Bride Ch18 Curiouser And Curiouser

Well ...This day had gotten much more awkward .

This day had already been eventful with meeting Akaza and saying a sudden good bye to the small children you'd been reading too so quickly. Then Kyogai had been so kind to offer you both another book to read during your stay and a delicious lunch. It was actually pretty peaceful and honestly one of the best meals you'd ever had! You weren't sure what spices Kyogai's chef used to cook the chicken meat in but it was delicious. But what you weren't expecting was for Kaigaku to come back with a vengeance. Or...what you thought was vengeance at first- Just a few hours later.

"Don't these hurt?"

"...Huh?"

You both might've lost track of time before Eri had awkwardly suggested she gets you back to bed as it had gotten late. Kyogai seemed ..strangely reluctant, but agreed that it would be best for your health to get some early sleep. However something had eventually caught your eye and it just so happened to be the drums that was sticking out from his body. They were half way embedded within his flesh and looked to be one with him. You couldn't help but stare and ask which caught him off guard, more so when you suddenly reached out and touched the drum embedded within his right shoulder. It didn't feel like it was flesh. It was made of leather and wood like a regular tsuzumi drum. Your fingertips grazed across the smooth leather one would be at for a drum. It seemed he used them to get around the mansion like a ghost. Did it hurt when he moved and shifted them around? Did it hurt when he placed them in his body? Does it hurt when he hits them?

"I-I...W-W-What are you-" His gaze fell silent when your other hand gently reached for the other.

"Your drums. Do they hurt your body embedded in like this?"

Her purple eyes gently looked up at him making his face light up a bright red. Too close! Too ..pretty- "I-I-IM FINE!" Her eyes blinked as he suddenly backed away from her clearing his throat. "T-They do not cause me pain. Although your concern is a-appreciated. *AHEM!*" With a hand wave to Eri, he dismissed you both. His other hand shakily reaching up to grab the drum your hand touched. "P-Please escort Lady Y/n to her room. I-I have to finish settling some paperwork."

..You looked to Eri who seemed to be both knowing of something you didn't see and almost dying of second hand embarrassment. You were going to ask her what was up with all of that but the four armed demon only forcibly turned you around by the shoulders and pushed you down the hall back towards your room.

"Haven't you ever heard of keeping your hands to yourself? You embarrassed him! And why would you run through the halls after Lord Akaza!? You're supposed to be taking it easy until Lord Enmu comes back! Are you trying to get the both of us in trouble? I'm supposed to be taking care of you!"

"Sorry. I couldn't just let Kaigaku get hurt because of something I said."

"Hmph! He would've been fine considering he's survived Lord Akaza 's punishments before, YOU however are more squishy than a sponge! You need to be more careful around the Lords. You're very lucky the few you've encountered aren't interested in harming anyone without a better reason than just 'she annoyed me'. If you did that to someone like Lady Daki or Lord Gyokko, then your life would've been forfeit! From now on, you need to be more careful until you can safely leave."

"I know. I know. And I apologize for that. I promise I'll try not to do anything else that'll worry you but now that you mention the other Lords just how many are there?" Eri hummed as you turned to look at her. "It's just that I've lived on the other side of the mountain all my life and never even believed you all actually existed until three weeks ago. Why do to you all have Lords? Is your Master more of a king? I'm very confused."

"Oh. I keep forgetting you're not from here so you wouldn't know." She looked at you know with a smile. "I guess you'll have to know if you stay here. That way if any more Lords show up, you'll be more careful."

"Thanks. I guess.,"

"You'll thank me later when I save your life. But since you asked, our Master is I guess our equivalent to an Emperor to you humans although he doesn't like being called that or so I've heard. He's one of the oldest and most powerful demons besides a few handfuls of ancient families. He is in rule without question over all demons and the humans who live in his territories. His family are the most wealthy and prominent of all of us. Under himself are the Twelve Kizuki or the twelve Lords as you probably have an easier time remembering."

"Are they all relatives of his?" Was that why they had such high positions compared to the millions of other demons living around you? But you thought Eri said Kaigaku and Kyogai weren't related?

"Only a few of the Lords are related to each other since they're siblings but otherwise no. No Lord is related to the Master. There's always six of them and each of them has a very important job assigned from the Master to keep our kind from running rapid and wild."

"What kind of jobs?"

"Well it depends. The twelve Lords are decided into two groups of six. The Upper and Lower Moons. The Upper Moons are the most powerful demons under the Master and are given the most important jobs. The strongest of them is Lord Kokushibo who holds the place of Upper Moon One. He's the delegate between humans and demons as well as in charge of the other Upper Moons. Lord Kokushibo is also Lord Kaigaku's sensai. He teaches him sword fighting." A grimace suddenly appeared on her face. "And just under him is Upper Moon Two Lord Douma."

"That was the man you mentioned before!"

She glumly nodded. "Yes. He's also the human recruiter." You gave her a look. "By that I mean he's in charge of attracting more humans to live in the Master's territories. He's also in charge of managing the..." She hesitated for a moment. "Managing the shipment of certain..'goods' for all demons. But he's rumoured to be a womanizer and constant flirt with many humans and demon consorts however I don't know if that's true."

"Well doesn't he sound like a great ray of sunshine."

"Well they say he's also very beautiful and can't feel emotions. But I've never even seen him so I don't know if any of those things are true. But none sound pleasant. Not like Lord Akaza!"

Your eyes lit up. "That's right. He said he was an Upper Moon."

"Number three to be exact. He's security for humans. You can say he makes sure no human is harmed by any demon unless ordered by the Master or Lord Kokushibo. He's the kindest of all the Twelve Kizuki besides Lord Kyogai. Directly below him is...Or should I say WAS Lord Hantengu, but since he retired from the position earlier this year the title of Upper Moon Four is shared between his five sons."

You blinked. "So... Upper Moon Four is shared by five people then?"

Eri nodded. "Lords Sekido, Karaku, Aizetsu, Urogi, and Zohakuten. They're all brothers and sons of Former Lord Hantengu. They are all Upper Moon Four and the newest Lords. However they haven't had their initiation ceremony yet so for now they are just placeholders of said title. They are the punishers and collectors. They're in charge of chasing down any traitors or law breakers whether they are human or demon and enacting righteous punishments, they are also in charge of collecting any owed debts to our Master whether it be money, land, or even blo-.. Goods. You'd be surprised exactly how many there actually is ."

"They sound scary."

"I wouldn't know. Never met them. However to keep on track is Lady Nakime as Upper Five. I don't exactly know much of her other than she's the communicator between all the twelve kizuki. No one I've talked to knows that much about her, I just know she's been Upper Five since Lord Gyokko retired over a hundred years ago. Under her is the last of the Upper Moons. Upper Moon Six Lord Gyutaro and Lady Daki. The brother and sister. They're informants and work underground, whatever that means. They both live and work in the entertainment district however they're well known because of their...habits."

"What...Kind of habits?"

"Well...It's rumoured that Lady Daki is very beautiful. I don't know if that's true or not, but even the rumor is enough to make desperate men go and look around mating season. Many men go but ...no one I've heard that went has ever come back. At least not in one piece. Lord Gyutaro's very protective of his sister you see. That's what brings on much of the carnage from desperate suitors. "

You didn't know what to say about that. All these demons, other than Akaza, sounded scary. You wouldn't want to meet them without protection either

"And what of the Lower Moons? What do they do?"

"Oh! Well you already met three of them! Lower Moon One is Lord Enmu! He's in charge of all travel within Masters provinces and transports most of the goods in and out of his domains, also responsible for helping Lord Douma bring in other humans by train. And Lower Moon Two is Lord Kaigaku. He's the guardian of the Eastern Mountain Border and Lord Kokushibo's apprentice. Lower Moon Three is a mystery however...I heard someone new is getting the role but it's unconfirmed."

"And the last moons?"

"Those would be Lord Yahaba at Lower Moon Four and Lady Susamaru at Lower Moon Five. They both work together and are the personal guards of the Master's family. And last but CERTAINLY not least is Lord Kyogai in the last position. He's the record keeper. Documents any important event in our history, any information Master would want or need, and he's also in charge of documenting many laws, deaths, births, and marriages."

You stared semi in awe at her as you both passed other servants approaching your room. "That sounds like a lot of work and pressure for one person. " And you were kinda glad you didn't have any drama in your life-

Eri only shrugged and reached a hand out to grab the sliding door. "Well they're all perfectly capable of handling themselves. Besides you don't have to worry about anything they do."

The door was slid back in one motion and both of you turned to the room...Only to pause at exactly who was inside waiting for you.

"It's about dam time you showed up! I've been waiting here for hours!"

You blinked as blue and black eyes glared up at you from the floor as Kaigaku sat there cris crossed, tail curled by his legs, and with one hand tapping the floor while the other held his frowning face. He continued to stare at the two of you just dumbly staring back at him.

"...Why are you in my room?, " You eventually asked raising a brow. Did he mix up rooms? His was right across from yours, so you pointed behind you. "Your room is right across the hall from mine."

"I KNOW THAT!! I'm not stupid! I've been waiting for you to show up!", He countered back which made you blink, "Hey, Eri. Go get us that food I mentioned to you earlier !" Eri blinked. "Well what are you waiting for? Go get it!"

Eri blinked as Kaigaku waved a shooing hand at her making her blink at him then turned to you with a half worried look before sighing and bowing to Kaigaku. "Yes, Lord Kaigaku. As you wish?"

You made to call Eri back as she turned to walk away- "And you!" You turned back to him as he motioned for you to come inside. "Come in and close the door. I want to talk to you."

...You scowled at him before stepping in and grabbing the door. "You know you're really making it hard for me to like you!"

His face perked up slightly. "Oh. So you DO want to like me?"

You closed the door a little harder than maybe you should've. "Well you're not making it easy! You're really rude you know."

"I've been told. Would you sit down?" ...Your brow rose. "What?"

"It couldn't hurt you to say please?"

He inhaled like he was trying to compose himself to not get angry, but his eyes narrowed at you. "MAY I be able to get you to sit down and talk with me?"

Well...he didn't say please but you supposed that was as close as a please you'd get from someone like him. So you went over and with about a yard between the two of you, went to sit-... purple eyes blinked at the floor.

"What now?"

"Did...Did you bring me a pillow to sit on?" The small pillow looked like the one you'd seen in that one dining room when you first got here

"Does it matter? I'm here to talk, not discuss furniture."...Well you guessed it probably didn't matter but it was still strange he brought it here. Perhaps he wanted to get on your good side, which only made you give him a suspicious look before slowly sitting down. "Hmph. What took you so long? I've been waiting for you long enough."

"Well excuse me if I promised Kyogai I'd talk with him." He was starting to get on your nerves again.

Kaigaku flashed his eyes and gripped his face harder. "Oh yes. And just WHAT exactly were you both talking about?"

Tch. Why did he want to know? Y/n's face deadpanned. "He just wanted his book back is all. I don't see how that concerns you."

"It does concern me thank you very much considering what happened between us!! First Akaza and now Kyogai's budding in where they don't belong!"

What was he talking about now? What did those two do to Kaigaku to make him mad this time? And how did that concern you?...Oh no. You groaned annoyed. Was this because you got between their fighting? Was he really that annoyed by a girl stopping him from getting flattened like a plank of wood?

"Is this about what happened earlier today with Akaza?"

"And Kyogai now! Yes!"

So it was because you embarrassed him. You groaned again reaching up a hand to rub your face. "You can't be mad about that-"

"The hell I can't!'' he pointed at you. "Don't think I didn't see how you were gripping his arm!"

TO SAVE YOU!! You wanted to yell but instead sighed. "Alright. So just so I get what you're trying to say... You're angry about what I did today?"

"And the parts they played."

"Right, right. *Sigh* Alright. Just to make you happy, what if I promise to never do that again?"

That sure made him perk up in interest. Making him raise a brow and eye you carefully. "... You're serious?"

"I promise you. I'll never try anything like that again if it bothers you. And I always keep my word, but in return can I ask something from you?" Perhaps you out could use this moment to bring some kind of peace.

He only looked more suspicious now crossing his arms. "Yeah? And what's that?"

"Would you please tone it down with the attitude for me?" It surprised him enough to raise both brows, your hands gestured around. "If we're going to be living together then we can at least show each other some courtesy can't we?"

To your surprise your words seemed to actually make him think because Kaigaku hummed and looked off in thought. "...Yes..If we're going to be together." He then nodded. "Very well. Just stop doing things to annoy me-"

"And I have a name. I'd like it if you used it more."

"Ugh. Fine if it'll make you less annoying about it."

Wow. You were honestly surprised! The last thing you were expecting was for Kaigaku of all demons to somewhat apologize and somewhat be polite-ish. To be honest this was something you didn't think he could do but it still make a suspicious feeling bubble up in the back of your mind that he was doing this for some other reason besides wanting you to stay out of his business, which fair enough you guessed. But it still begged the question.

"So was this it?" He hummed at you in question. "What you wanted to talk about. Was that all? It's odd you'd want to stay for dinner and be so nice to me if there wasn't something else."

He frowned again and huffed before rolling his eyes. "Can't do anything without you being antsy. But now that you brought it up, yes I do. And it's something I would've done before if I knew them what I know now."

What was he talking about now? Was he talking about kicking you out again? Oh no. Was he about to lecture you about how you should be kicked out again? You thought he was done ranting about that. Instead purple eyes watched as he lifted his right arm up, and with his other reached towards his wrist. The confusion in your eyes diminished some when the hand went to the blue charm dangling from his wrist. That's right. He wore three of them all the time. Two were secured around his neck in some kind of necklace, and the third was wrapped around his wrist. Sharp black claws gently tugged and pulled at the thick string keeping the third blue charm stuck around his wrist until it all fell away, the now lose charm harmlessly falling into his grey palm. With a final stare at it, he exhaled and turned back to you.

"This is a magatama charm," he said holding it up to you. Now closer, it seemed to be made out of some kind of polished smooth stone. "I figured out a way to get out of the trouble you caused me by coming in here and also our little problem with others budding into things they shouldn't, I'm planning on making a statement about exactly what I think of you."

...Your brow rose deadpanned between him and the charm. "And what exactly does that have to do with me or your jewelry?' your hand pointed at the admittedly lovely piece.

"You gifted me a dowry so I'm simply gifting you one in return as is customary and to show that there isn't anymore hard feelings about losing my last peach from your blunder."

"...So you're trying to make peace with me so Akaza doesn't try to flatten you again?"

He squawked and you saw him instantly scowl. So that was a yes then- "IM DOING THIS TO SEND A MESSAGE TO THOSE ASSHOLES TO BACK OFF AND MIND THEIR OWN BUSINESS!!"

So that WAS a YES. Nice. But you'd play along if it meant Kaigaku would be 'nicer' to you, and so the other two would stop arguing with him. So rolling your eyes and sighing, you nodded.

"Alright. You win." You blunt response got him to shut up in the middle of calling Akaza a woman stealing something whatever he meant by that. "I accept your apology. And your promise. And your terms of the deal from before as long as you accept my terms. I also accept your generosity of the gift, but I can't take your jewelry."

"WHAT?!", He yelled but not in anger, he looked more..lost. Sputtering he blinked back to the charm in his hand before holding it up to his face and twisting it this way and that as if to check for even the slightest imperfections on the beautiful blue surface. "...Well what's wrong with this?!"

"Absolutely nothing. It's perfectly beautiful."

"Then take it!," He thrusted it back at you firmer, "If there's nothing wrong with it, then accept it! If you don't like this one, I have two others if you'd prefer one of them!" Already his other hand made grabbing motions at his neck. "Just name which one you want and it's yours."

"I wouldn't want those either-"

"Then tell me what you want and I'll get it for you! Whaddya want?! Gold? Dresses? Food? I can provide most anything."

"Kaigaku it's not about the gift! I just don't want to take something that might mean so much for you, and it's not fair for me to accept something so expensive from you when I just gave you mere peaches!" He paused. "Despite what you might think, I'm not a greedy or materialistic woman. I wouldn't want to accept such a thing unless I earn it or have enough money to buy such a thing."

"... You've already earned it from me. I wouldn't give such a thing like this to anyone unless I want to go through this. And I decided I wanted to with YOU. Although I never thought I would or with a human of all women. Y/n. Take it. I refuse to gift you anything less than this. If I want a new one!," He spoke louder interrupting whatever you were about to say when you opened your mouth, "I know where I can get another easily to replace this one. It's a perk of being a powerful man. Now will you accept this or I'll find you something else."

God's above! Just how stubborn was he?! ...sigh. He wasn't going to stop unless you accepted it was he? Ok. New plan. You'd accept it for now, and then 'accidentally' leave the charm in Kaigaku's room when you left. That way he'd stop bothering you with it and you'd be too far away by the time he found it to make you take it back. Yeah. That sounded like a good idea.

"Alright, Kaigaku. I'll accept your magatama." For now.

His face lit up in a smug, satisfied glee. "Heh. I knew you'd love it." Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you held out a hand- ?! You jumped when he literally leaned forward quickly towering over your body. "Hold still so I can put it on you!" You never even got to argue with him before he was on you, hands going around your head and something like thick string touching your neck. "Hold still!"

"Kaigaku, get off!"

"Stop being a spoiled child and hold still like I said!"The string was wrapped twice around your neck and a knot was tied to the left side of your neck before the hands finally backed off with a happy look from Kaigaku. "There....It's perfect."

You shoved his body away from yours with a frown. "I could've put it on myself." You glared at his smug face, and let you hand reach up to touch the necklace wrapped around your throat. It was some thick string, and soon your skin grazed the smooth surface of the charm hung off it. "...*sigh* But thank you. It's beautiful."

"I know. It's why I chose to present you with that instead of those cheap human items."

You rolled your eyes but didn't have anytime to say anything before the door slide back open and both of you turned to Eri who looked almost annoyed to be ordered to bring food a second time today. But paused when she spotted that shimmering charm on your neck all four eyes widening-

A rapid clicking came from Kaigaku's throat. "If you tell her ANYTHING I'll make sure you have a decade attached to your working years here." Eri snapped her mouth shut as you looked at him. "Now leave the food and wait for us to call you back in -"

"Eri stays." His head snapped back to you. "Eri is assigned to me, which makes her my servant, and she's supposed to take care of me. If something happens while she's not here, we'll all going to be in trouble. And I say she stays so she stays. That's FINAL, Kaigaku."

"....UGH! FINE! I can already tell you're going to be a hard one to live with."

"That goes for you too. Now shall we eat? It's been a long day."

"Tch. Fine. I've already done what I came here for anyways."

At least dinner was more peaceful. Kaigaku scarfed down what Eri had brought before abruptly leaving and leaving you with Eri for the rest of the night. Once he was safely out of earshot you turned back to Eri who had gone back to staring at the necklace around your neck with a half worried half deadpanned face.

"Hey. Are you alright?"

She slowly nodded. "Yes...So, what did you and my Lord speak about?"

You groaned. "Oh nothing much. Kaigaku wanted to...'apologize' because Akaza must've threatened him."

Her brows rose. "Oh. Is that all?"

"He also told me to stay out of his business and gave me this-" You pointed at the necklace. "-in order to get on my good side. But I plan on returning it to him later before I leave."

Her face perked up. "Oh...So you DIDN'T accept it?"

"No not really." Eri breathed a sigh of relief placing a hand to her chest, your brow rose. "..Why do you ask?"

"No reason. But a word of caution, try not to accept any gifts from any men while you're here. Don't ask why as I'm not allowed to tell you but it'll just save us all a massive headache later."

You weren't sure what she meant about that but it must've been a demon secret so you'd keep in mind to do what Eri said and keep yourself out of trouble. Another half week passed by with yourself doing the same routine as before with Eri. You would read to her and both of you would be entertained by the many poems and stories unfolding within the pages. You were surprised more when Kaigaku seemed to keep his word about toning it down with his attitude. Whenever you saw him in the halls, he'd smirk proudly at himself and the fact you were wearing the necklace he'd given you. You only continued to wear it to appease him before you left, but the strange reactions you were getting from everyone was also suspicious. Many servants would stare at your neck or give glances at you before quickly turning away. You supposed it had something to do with it being a gift from one of their nobles. However you were not ready for the reaction from Kyogai when he saw you wearing it. It was when Kaigaku left to go back to his duties along the Eastern Mountain Border and you and Eri were passing by him in the hallway. Kyogai had lit up upon first seeing you approaching but it was completely wiped away when he looked lowered to your neck and saw a very familiar blue charm.

"WHERE DID YOU GET T H A T?!"

You were taken quite aback at the sudden yell and pointing at you in such sudden anger. It had Eri peddling back behind you, head instantly bowing on instinct in face of her main Lord's anger.

"Oh...You mean this necklace?"

"I WOULD V E R Y MUCH LIKE TO KNOW HOW IT HAD GOTTEN AROUND YOUR NECK!!," He strained his voice eyes narrowing at the necklace.

"Kyogai be calm," you said holding up your hands to try and calm the strange anger, "It's just something Kaigaku gave me to try and apologize. I'm only wearing it to keep peace, but I'm giving it back to him later."

That last sentence had him looking directly at your face for a solid ten seconds of silence. "...So you aren't accepting that?!"

"No! I only took it to not hurt his feelings but I never to told him I would be keeping it." With every word the largest demon relaxed little by little. "I'm just going to give it back later when he's not around."

"HA! So he doesn't know yet?'

"No. And I'd appreciate if you kept your mouth shut about it since if he knew I'm planning on giving it back he'd just throw another fit about it."

A big smile broke across Kyogai's face as he hummed in thought staring at the necklace. "…..Very well. I will respect your wishes, but if he thinks this is going to change anything then he has another thing coming! He doesn't seem to understand the laws don't apply to this situation!"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing. ...Hmm. But perhaps he has a good idea for once. If the law doesn't apply here then it seems I might still get ahead."

Did he want to do this though? Marriage seemed like a big step especially with someone he just met a few weeks ago-

"Kyogai?" A hand softly grabbed his with a worried cute face beaming at him and the smell of roses hitting his senses. "Are you alright? You're worrying me here."

YEP! IT WAS WORTH IT!!

"I am fine. Perfectly fine. Do not worry. However I must leave. There's a special task I must prepare if I want to present it. Excuse me. Eri, let me know if Kaigaku returns immediately."

And he left just like that. Leaving you to stare at Eri who only groaned and shook her head, so you didn't bother to ask. It just seemed that the two demons really didn't get along. However Eri's strange behavior seemed to get more and more noticeable. You'd catch her staring off into space not paying attention to even the stories as you caught back her attention to which shed apologize and ask you to repeat yourself. Or sometimes she'd take glances out the window with a longing look. Or she'd give glances at your necklace with envy like she almost pictured herself in it-

"Alright. What's gotten into you?'' You finally asked her about it two days later when she stared off for the fifth time in the last hour.

Her many eyes blinked at you as you caught her attention back. "Uh...What ever do you mean?"

"This is the fifth time I caught you staring off, and you're starting to see worry me. Why have you been acting so strange?"

"Oh. Well..You shouldn't concern yourself with that.?" A nervous hand combed through her hair nervously. "It's not that big of a deal."

"It is if you're acting like this," you assured her, "You can tell me. I promise I won't judge you for it."

She hummed nervously wringing one pair of her hands together before sighing. "Well...Do you remember how I mentioned I was engaged?" You nodded. "W-Well it's February already. Usually I'd be permitted to visit him once a year, I haven't seen him since last last summer, and with a few ...'others' falling in love around here.. It's just reminding me a lot of him lately."

"Aren't you going to be marrying him soon?"

"When I agreed to work for my Lord, I agreed to work for him for a certain amount of time. I can't leave until next year when it becomes March, which is still a year away. I also can't ask to visit him now, not when I was ordered to watch over you. I'll have to wait until you're free to go before I can see him again."

You looked at her for a long moment. "Eri, exactly where does your fiance live?"

"He lives in a small series of ponds and water bodies five miles south from here. Usually I can go and be back within a single day. Why?"

"Well mating season is over right? That means it's safe for me to be outside for a while. If I explain to Kyogai how you're feeling then I'm sure he'd allow me to go with you."

"Mistress Y/n! No. You're still recovering and I couldn't ask that of you-"

"Eri, if I spend one more day cooped up in here without stepping out once I'll go crazy! And I already decided I'm going to ask so there's no getting around it if he says yes."

"IF he says yes being the key words here," she pointed out, "My Lord is very worried about your health and safety. Even if you ask him in the politest way on earth and give the most reasonable of reasonable reasons back, how are you so sure he'll say yes to this entire thing?"

"By using a simple trick I've learnt from growing up with a grandmother like mine." You smiled very slyly making Eri raise a brow. "When would you say he's going to be the busiest?"

"Tomorrow when he'll be processing some treaty negotiations into the archives. Why?"

"Perfect."

Eri didn't say anything but the very next day she seemed both anxious and curious to be seeing what you'd be coming up with when you had her follow you very early in the morning towards Kyogai's study. And it was EARLY. The sun had barely even risen out of the sky when you tugged a half asleep Eri behind you. Kyogai as always woke up before the sun even did to work, and combined with his workload would make for a perfect time to ask him. A few servants seemed surprised to see you walking around so early but most didn't pay attention to you just walking around doing their own chores, and Kaigaku still wouldn't be back for a few days so it'll all work out fine! The main study was the one he usually worked from so you went right up to the door and paused for a moment. Eri and yourself exchanging a look before your hands grabbed onto the door and slide it just open enough to pop your head in. Indeed Kyogai was there already working. The sounds of furious quill scribbling filled the air as the large demon sat down in his usual spot, a two foot stack of papers to the left of him on the desk. Yikes. He really was going to be busy wasn't he? Whelp. You came here all the way to ask so you might as well ask.

"Hey, Kyogai?"

He hummed not paying attention and not looking up from his papers.

"Can I go with Eri to meet her fiance?"

"Yes,yes. Whatever you need."

"Thank you."

You then popped your head back out, slid the door back shut, and turned back to Eri who had her haw dropped and all four eyes wide. "Well you heard him! Let's go! We can be back before nightfall."

".... I'm very much starting to think you have a death wish."

"And Ill take that as a compliment."

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lavenderwhore444 · 3 years

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God Im pretty sure I’m going to hell ANYWAYS ok so this is a hybrid cat shigaraki, u end up adopting shigaraki from a very abuses owner so our little kitten is traumatized and terrified of everything, it took u a bit of time until he was comfortable with u , he doesn’t trust u in the beginning and thinks ur gonna do the same as his previous owner did but ur different u were so patient, sweet and soft not to mention he LOVED getting head pets from u ( he would never admit it tho) once shigaraki found out that he was in love with u he was stuck to ur hip ( he was super clingy) shigaraki’s heat was closer then expected, shigaraki didn’t want to ruin his chances with u but he couldn’t stop himself from humping everything so he hid in his room , you absolutely loved shigaraki since the day u saw him u knew u wanted him, when u first met him he scratched and hissed at u he was terrified, it honestly made u sick knowing the person who did this to him is still alive, u both got much closer he even started cuddling with u!!!! U soon fell in love with shiggy but u didn’t want to ruin what u guys have so u kept it to ur self , u noticed shigaraki was acting weird and hid in his room for two days at first u thought u might give him some space but u started getting worried u wanted to check on him before u came in u heard some little moans and whines, it just hit u that ur little kitten has there heat, u decided to help out 👀

Kinks pet-play of course dom reader and sub shigaraki maybe some pegging that’s all I can think of so feel free to add any kinks. I was listening to hello kitty by Avril Lavigne there was part where she says “ come come kitty kitty your so pretty pretty” that was inspired me to write this lmaooo

-🤡

HELLO KITTY

If you want to use interactive fics, it's easy and makes reading fics SO much better. First, you download the Google Chrome extension. You'll see it in the top right corner of your screen. Next, you enter your name in the first box. If you want to change something other than y/n, please click on the text that says “want to change something other than y/n?” here, you can change any word you want to a different word. When I talk about your quirk I will use y/q.

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Samesies, but it's ok, we’ll go to hell together 😫

Now you might be wondering, Claire, why did this take you literal MONTHS? Well, I wanted to perfect it. I love this concept so much that I just HAD to spend so much time on it to make it perfect. And let me just say, it's pretty good 😏

Warnings: vaginal sex, overstimulation (male), anal sex with strapon, heat, pillow humping, marking mating, whatever you want to call it.

I've decided I'm obsessed with making cat shiggy meow ☺️

‘Where the fuck am I?’ Is shigaraki’s first thought of the day.

He’s never been on a bed this soft or a house this warm. Where is he? The blankets are all fuzz. The bed is littered with stuffed animals and pillows, and sweet-smelling candles, are burning somewhere. Is he being sacrificed?

“Hey, you're awake, ” a soft voice says, coming from the end of the bed.

He recoils in fear but, upon second glance, he sees that you aren't who he thinks you are. A girl replaces the scary form of his “master.” he looks you up and down. He has to admit you are quite pretty. The sight of someone other than the large man who used to own him excites him. Maybe this is a fresh start? But perhaps you're just like him...

“Get the fuck away from me, ” he snaps, scrambling into a corner.

“It's okay, sweetie, ” you say, “I'm not gonna hurt you, ”

“Everyone says that, meow ” Shigaraki retorts, “get the fuck away before I scratch your eyes out, ”

You bite your lip, “ok, Tomura, I'm gonna sit with you for a while, though. I'll be right across the room if you need anything, ”

“I don't need shit from you, ” he says, hissing making a show of his claws.

You laughed a little, more than a bit sad at his fear, “alright, but I’ll still be here, ”

He sits in silence for a moment, surveying his surroundings. He notices fresh clothes in the dresser, and there are some game consoles set up for him. How do you know he likes video games? Fucking creep. There aren't really any escape routes but escaping is complicated when he doesn't know where he is.

“Where am I meow?” he asks, sounding meeker than intended.

“I guess I kind of adopted you, ” you explain, “we’re at our house, ”

“Why did you do that?” he asks, the edge coming back to his voice.

“You just seemed so sweet, and the man who owned you was so mean. I couldn't just leave you there; he was hurting you, ” you say, frowning a little at the thought of Tomura getting hurt.

"Why do you care?" he snaps.

You sit closer to him, making him tense.

"I already told you, I think you're sweet Tomura," you repeat, "I just can't explain it. I'd really like it if we could become friends,"

'Or maybe more,' you think to yourself.

You can't deny he is very attractive.

"How do I know you're not lying meow?" He asks.

"I think you'll just have to trust me. Do you want to play some games with me?" you ask.

"Fine," he says, "only cause I'm bored,"

You grin, "awesome. What should we play?"

Shigaraki stands up and walks over to the games, tail swaying.

"This," he says, holding up animal crossing, "you probably like it cause it's dumb. What's your name anyway?" he asks.

"I'm y/n," you answer.

"I guess your names not awful, meow”, he mutters.

Truthfully, he already thinks you're beautiful, and you seem so kind. Shigaraki sits unusually close to you on the bed as the two of you play. You play late into the night; he makes a good bit of progress. Eventually, you feel his head rest on your shoulder, and he falls asleep on you.

You ease Tomura into your lap.

"There we go," you whisper, "you're safe now,"

Little did you know he's wide awake, smiling to himself and nuzzling his head closer to you. The sound of soft purring fills your ears as he drifts off into the most peaceful sleep.

He's pretty disgruntled when he wakes up alone. Where have you gone? Shigaraki doesn't have to wonder for long when you come back with a plate of food.

"Hey, are you hungry?" you ask, setting a plate of food on the table next to him.

He nods, digging in right away. You watch him eat like a man starved. Honestly, he might have been. He puts the plate down and moves closer to you. He's beginning to trust you more and more.

"Tomura, ” you say, “I have to put a collar on you now, just in case you get lost, ok?” you push some hair out of his face, “id be so sad if I lost you, ”

“fine, meow” he mumbles.

Truthfully his heart is melting at the thought. That you aren’t embarrassed by him, that you want to keep him safe and close to you. When you click the collar into place he hugs you, tugging at your shirt.

It’s shocking how fast he’s becoming comfortable with you but definitely pleasing. The next few days are calm, spent lounging around the house. He‘s getting so trusting with you. He occasionally pushes his head beneath your hand so you scratch his head. He always denies it, though; he has a tough-guy exterior to keep up.

However, something changes within him. He feels a strange warmth, not a necessarily bad feeling, around you. Tomura knows what cats were supposed to do. They are supposed to cuddle and play with their owners. Should he be doing that? Should he act like a “normal cat”? He concludes that you don’t want that at all. The lack of cat toys, a cat tree, and you allowing him to eat at the table solidify that.

However, he does want to cuddle. He tries to cuddle like all the time. But you have work, and you get tired, and you run errands, and he becomes sad. Tomura knows you have a life outside of him, but you really shouldn't. He should be your only priority. When Christmas break finally rolls around, and you start spending more time at the house, he's elated.

He has internet access, of course. He needs it to play his video games! But it was restricted. You don’t want your little kitty to see things he’s not supposed to. He starts to like watching movies too. At first, they‘re action movies with lots of blood and fighting, which you don’t necessarily agree with, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. He slowly gets bored with them and stumbles across a romance movie.

Tomura becomes engrossed in them. He loves watching the couple fall in love and be happy. One movie, in particular, weirds him out. It looks like they were taking off their clothes. They start kissing and making strange noises. He doesn't like it one bit, it makes his cheeks feel hot, and his cock gets semi-hard. He turns it off immediately.

It doesn’t take long for him to forget about it and keep watching different ones. Soon he finds some similarities between him and the main character. The way they feels around their love interest is the same way he feels around you. Is he in love with you?! It seems so and you have just recently come to the same conclusion as him.

Soon he’s all over you, following you everywhere. Tomura pushes open your door every night and snuggling up to you. He’ll purr and nuzzle into you, happy sighs escaping him. Whenever he “accidentally” wakes you up, you never get mad at him. You just cuddle him and talk all night, giggling and talking until you both fall asleep.

Oddly enough, you‘re oblivious to his feelings for you. Whenever he cuddles with you, you hold back the urge to kiss him on the lips. You don’t want him to feel awkward around you. Soon he starts acting strange without any change in behavior from you. He stops coming in your room at night and wont come out of his room.

You don't want to be overbearing, so you give him space...for a while. Meanwhile, in his room, Tomura is lying naked on the bed, panting and sweating. He feels strange, just like he did when he was watching that movie. He doesn't understand what‘s happening to his body but when he humps his pillow it feels like an itch is being scratched. The first time he cums he‘s terrified and lets out a scared “meow!”

But it feels so good. The feeling doesn't go away, so he decides the only solution is to keep humping. Soon he‘s limp but still grinding his hips on the poor pillow. He takes deep whiffs of your sweater, huffing it like a drug. His tongue is lolling out of his mouth and his eyes are rolling back in his head. He‘s starting to hurt down there but he just can't stop cumming.

Oh, why can't he reach the phone you left in his room? Why is his voice too hoarse to call out to you? Tomura is scared. He can’t eat or sleep. Sweat has soaked into the mattress and his poor little cock is starting to hurt. You‘re getting worried too so you wander up to his room and callout to him, pressing your ear to the door.

“y/n meow,” he calls out hoarsely, almost a whisper.

All you can hear are desperate whines and moans. Is Tomura...in heat? Oh, your poor kitty is probably in so much pain! You have to help him, so you open the door and see him. It is a pathetic (yet erotic) sight. He looks so desperate. He‘s crying and looks so scared. Tomura just whines and reaches out to you even though he‘s far away.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you whisper.

You walk over to him and scoop him up, sitting him on your lap. He continues to try and hump you, but you can tell how much his poor dick hurts. You hug him tightly, feeling guilty that you took so long to check on him.

Tomura tugs at your shirt, he can't figure out why he wants you to take off your clothes, but he does. You oblige, ready to do anything your sweet kitten wants. When he sees your top half naked, he feels his cock beg for you. He starts to tug aimlessly at your pants, and you take them off, once again, all too eager to please.

He doesn't have any sexual knowledge, but he has instincts, pure carnal instincts that tell him just how to breed his mate’s tight pussy. Tomura grabs your hips, his claws accidentally puncturing the skin. You yelp as he pulls you on top of him. When he slams you down onto his long fat cock he doesn't get the rush of pleasure he expected.

He's hit with an extreme amount of pain and lets out a panicked meow. You lift yourself off of him quickly, and Tomura misses the feeling of your cunt even though it caused him so much pain. He paws at you, but you keep him from shoving himself in you again.

“Tomura,” you say softly, “you need to calm down; you're hurting yourself,”

“Meow! need!” he cries.

“So needy,” you mutter, “youre just gonna hurt yourself,”

“Don’t care! Need!” he begs.

“Hold on,” you say, getting up and ignoring the insistent pawing at your shirt as he whines.

You rifle through your drawers until you find the dildo you got and the free strap-on attachment that came with it. You smile and gran some lube; this is exactly what you need for your pretty kitty. He watches with curious eyes and blown out pupils due to pure lust.

“Let's give your poor cock a break,” you say.

He nods, but where are you going to put that? You climb onto the bed with him, and he hugs you, sucking on your tit. He feels so at peace. Your boobs are so soft and pretty. He wants to stay like this forever. But when Tomura feels those nimble fingers of yours start to trail across his lower back just above his ass he shivers.

He leaves open-mouthed kisses across your chest; he lets them get sloppy and wet as you rub his back.

“Need,” he whispers again, eyes half-lidded.

You tilt Tomura’s head up and give him his first proper kiss. He's seen this in movies and knows you're supposed to say “I love you” after...right? He doesn't know the full meaning of the three little words he's about to say.

“I love you y/n,” he says when you pull away.

“I love you too,” you say, taken aback just a bit.

He gives you a love-drunk smile and tries to rut against your thigh but yelps again, remembering how sensitive he is.

“C’mere pretty kitty,” you coo, “lay on your back for me,”

He nods and lays on his back, painfully aware of how exposed he is to your careful, calculating eyes. He starts purring when you muzzle your head into his neck. Are you going to mark him?! Do you really want him to be your mate?! Oh, he hopes so! He smiles, and his breathing picks up, but his ears flatten on his head when you pull away.

“No mate meow?” Tomura asks, face falling.

For the first time all day, he feels his cock soften sadly. He doesn't understand the look of confusion on your face and tears up a bit.

“I'm not sure I understand,” you say, brushing some hair out of his face and feeling guilty when you see his teary eyes.

“I want you to mark me,” he says, bottom lip quivering, “please meow?”

Your eyes widen, “oh,” maybe you did learn something useful in school, “of course honey,”

You lean down again, unsure of how hard to bite his neck. You can tell exactly where you're supposed to bite. A strong musky smell radiates from the side of his neck and you decide to sink your teeth in until you break skin. When you do, he sighs happily at the feeling of your admittedly dull teeth (in comparison to his) in his neck.

“Mate,” he purrs.

You pull away when you can tell he's satisfied. He pulls you in for another kiss, tasting some of his blood on your tongue. He doesn't notice your fingers traveling to the bottle of lube on the bed and pumping some onto your fingers. He does notice when you start to rub around where you're not supposed to.

“Hey! What are you doing, meow?!” Tomura says, squirming at the strange new sensation.

When you find your mark and circle his asshole, any objections he just made the in the past. When he feels your finger begin to sink into his tight hole, he sighs happily. He isn't supposed to be the one getting penetrated, but he can't help how much he loves the feeling of your finger wiggling around inside of him.

When you add in another finger, he meows happily, grinding on your fingers. All this pleasure without the pain, what has he done to deserve this? To deserve you? Tomura’s back arches as he moves his hips; he can feel himself coming to a different kind of climax, but you pull away right when he's on the edge.

He looks up at you with pleading eyes and trembling thighs. He sees you putting that strange liquid on something much larger and gulps. He feels his asshole gape around nothing, waiting for something to fill it up.

“Is that going inside me, meow?” he asks nervously.

“It won't hurt,” you say, cupping his face, “i promise,”

Tomura gulps but nods. He trusts you. When the head of the dildo pushes into him he's tense and panting already.

“You have to relax,” you whisper in his ear, “be a good boy and relax,”

He tries, letting the nervous knot in his stomach untangle. His breathing slows as you push in more of the dildo. It starts to feel good, having you in some of him, and it's even better when the head of the dildo hits a spot that makes him mewl. He wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you down to him, causing you to poke his prostate again.

He moans and buries his face in your neck, purring loudly. You start to move your hips at an agonizingly slow pace. You worm your arms under him and hold him close while you help him adjust. He's planting and mewling happily.

“Love you,” he moans, “I love you so much y/n,”

“I love you too, Tomura,” you whisper, kissing the shell of his ear.

“It's so good,” he groans, “you're amazing meow. The perfect mate,”

“Yeah?” you say, too focused to respond.

He nods, “the best ever,”

You keep thrusting, speeding up just a bit. That makes Tomura yelp happily. His tongue lolls out as he smiles. There's not one thought behind those beautiful red eyes—just pure pleasure. It's taking over his entire body and he can't help but meow happily.

He likes to think of himself as more refined than most hybrids. More human, but all he can think of now is how wonderful being your little kitty is.

“I'm gonna cum,” he whimpers, “gonna cum, meow”

His dick quivers, and his asshole clenches as cum spurts out of him, but it's still not enough. To satiate his desires, he needs to be inside of you when he cums. When you pull out of him slowly and remove the strap on, he bites the bullet and plunges into you, ignoring the pain that makes him sob and absolutely hammers into you.

You're helpless underneath him as he has his way with you. You can't deny how good he feels inside of you. Tomura hates how long he's lasting. He needs to get this over with, although having you cum on his cock would be pretty nice. When he feels you worm your fingers down to your clit he starts to be thankful he hasn't lost his mind and cum yet.

That look on your face makes him so happy. He wants you to be happy. He wants you to cum, so he holds out until you milk his cock with your cunt. And when he lets go it's heavenly. The itch has been scratched, and he collapses on top of you, purring as his tail twitches. You scratch behind his ears to help him get some much-needed rest.

It works nearly immediately, and your sweet kitty is asleep in mere minutes. You love Tomura more than you can put into words, and he loves his pretty little mate. His adorable little y/n.

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

Text

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comforting sleep deprived s/o | bnha

➳ incld ;; bakugo and kirishima

➳ warnings ;; none, just fluff, pro-hero!au

➳ wc ;; 1.8k overall.

➳ a/n ;; i haven’t slept properly in days. running on empty so this is how im coping. i love them.

»» — {♡} —— { ♡ } —— {♡} — ««

i. bakugo katsuki

- doesn’t like napping cause he insists on keeping his sleep schedule tight. not that you can really get mad at him over that - hero work is busy and he doesn’t like being tired cause it makes him more aggravated than usual.

- so he avoids naps almost at all costs and rarely gets tired. his sleep schedule is really, really good.

- not so much the same for you though.

- bakugo accepted pretty early on that you were something of a night-owl. bad sleep anxiety and just generally having too much energy at night made it so that he rarely ever saw you go to bed. you were at least lagging a few hours behind him like. at all times.

- he didn’t really mind at first, but at some point he realized just how little sleep you actually got. one time he woke up at 7am, surprised to see you also awake - only to find out you hadn’t slept the entire night.

- he was pissed. after almost blowing up your kitchen, he sighed and basically told you that if you need helping sleeping to just “fucking ask him” or else.

- needless to say, it didn’t get that much better. you two compromised by setting a time that you had to be in bed by, even if you weren’t asleep. whenever bakugo has time, he’s always trying to get you to rest but sometimes his schedule doesn’t really allow him to check up on you how he likes.

- he’s coming home from a long mission. not super tired but just tedious work. he just wanted to relax. it was late, 3:37am on the clock when he finally walks in.

- to his surprise - there’s a light on in the kitchen. when he walks in, very confused, he sees you sliding cookies off of a sheetpan into a little plastic tupperware. he stops. he stares.

- why the hell were you baking at three in the fucking morning

- “what the fuck are you doing awake?”

- you jump back with a hand over your chest, barely catching your breath. you blink a few times before sighing.

- “baking. i didn’t think you’d be home so soon”

- he hears it before he sees it. your voice is absolutely tattered - he can literally hear how exhausted you are. he pumps the breaks, walking towards you swiftly before staring down at you hard.

- “when was the last time you slept,”

- you press your lips into a tight smile, and he sees the dark purple under your eyes. he feel his heart hurt a little. his hands come up to your face as he brushes his thumb every so slightly against your lashes.

- “it’s uh.. hard to sleep without you. more than usual, you know”

- “Y/N”

- “i don’t know. maybe two or three days ago properly? i mean i got some sleep in between but -,”

- he stops you before you can start. he shuts the cookie container and leaves the tray in the sink before grabbing your hand a little forcefully and tugs you to the bathroom - lifting you up onto the counter. you know to stay put.

- when he comes back it’s with a fresh change of clothes for the both of you. you blink at him owlishly as he strips himself off of his clothes - grateful he took time to shower at the agency.

- he takes his shirt off and then takes yours off too, before pulling you right towards him. your arms instantly are around his neck, the warmth of his body pressed against your figure with his chin tucked over your shoulder.

- and god - he’s so comforting you kind of want to cry. he smells like clean soap and deodorant and a little like smoke. feeling his skin against yours makes you feel instant relief. just hugging in the bathroom has you falling half asleep. you were just so tired.

- when he pulls back, his whole face looks so damn worried it makes you want to cry. you put your own hands on his face and cheek, brushing your thumb on his cheek bone as he rests his forehead on yours.

- “dumbasss. i can leave something with you if it’s that bad - fuck, you could’ve called me, you know?”

- and you sigh and smile and kiss him a bit before pulling away again. man, you’re tired. you’re so, so tired.

- “yeah.. i know,”

- he helps you get undressed and freshened up, even rubs your facewash into your skin and rubs all your skincare in before hauling you off the bed. he turns the lights dim and just holds you, rubbing circles into your back as he holds you right to his chest.

- “go to fucking sleep,” “love you katsuki” “..love you too”

- he doesn’t sleep until you do, and wakes up the next morning to call in sick for you while you sleep against his chest. he should probably wake up but.. sleeping a bit longer won’t kill him.

{♡} —— { ♡ } —— {♡}

ii. kirishima eijirou

- kirishima likes to wake up pretty early so he can workout and do his cardio at the start of his day and his weightlifting later on. sleeping well is important to him cause his workout routine is super unforgiving if he’s not resting properly on rest days and the like. building muscles absolutely requires sleep!

- that being said - he doesn’t mind not sleeping early if he has something to do. drinking especially normally keeps him up on weekends. overall, it was good but he doesn’t limit himself.

- overall, it’s not something he paid a ton of attention too. life is all about balance so kiri goes with the flow. his rule of thumb is trying to get at least 8 hours a night tho.

- but because kirishima is so go with the flow - it took him a long time to figure out that you were a night owl and something of an insomniac. he assumed that when he wished you goodnight everday, you fell asleep around the same time as him.

- but one drunken even, he finds himself stumbling to your apartment. knocking on your and barely standing upright - he immediately is planning on apologizing for disturbing your sleep.

- but then you.. open the door and you’re literally wide awake. you look tired but you’re clearly not sleepy. kirishima, once gain, blasted - pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind and grins toothily. he’s just excited to see you at that point and forgets about the whole ordeal until a few weeks later.

- he ends up texting you about it a couple weeks later, assuming it’d be a once off thing that you’d explain to him.

- ... is upset and shocked to learn that you rarely, if ever fall asleep before two am like on a good day. poor man is in shock for the rest of the day and proceeds to ask you about why you have a hard time to sleeping to try and see what he can do.

- he wants to help but you just keep brushing it off and it honestly made him so upset he didn’t know what to do with himself. he couldn’t sleep a wink that night because the whole thing is bothering him so damn much.

- what really sets him off is when he finally has a chance to see you after a few weeks. you were busy with uni and didn’t really have a ton of time to see him so the two of you couldn’t see each other properly for a few weeks.

- he’s elated to see you. he’s missed his baby so much and he’s pulling all the stops out when he’s getting dressed. jeans cuffed, his best cologne, fresh shaved, brand new sneakers. he really wants to impress.

- he’s wrapping you up into the tightest hug when he see’s you. your dressed comfortably but he still thinks you look so beautiful and he’s complimenting you, giving you kisses and overall just doting on you. he wraps your hand in his yours and just talks.

- in fact, he’s so excited to see you, he doesn’t notice how..deflated you are. not at first anyways.

- but as the date goes on, it becomes more and more obvious you don’t share his enthusiasm in the same way.

- sure, he’s talkative but you haven’t said a word about how your week has been. all of his jokes have been met with mere huffs and forced chuckles and your eyes seem really distant.

- it hits him all at once at the end of your date when you just seem so... out of it. he’s about to take you somewhere else but you stopped listening a while ago. kirishima stops dead in his tracks and holds your hand nervously, calling you a few times to get your attention.

- “Y/N.. are you mad at me? is something wrong?”

- your eyes go wide, flailing your hands to reassure him. you knew you were acting strange but to see kirishima this upset makes you feel awful.

- “oh kiri - god no, it’s not you. sorry for being so.. distant - it’s not you,”

- “well then.. what’s wrong?”

- kirishima feels his heart get pierced when he sees you laugh. you look... so exhausted. your eyes are so heavy and the makeup on your skin is only barely concealing your dark circles. why did it take him so long to notice?

- before he can even reply, he remembers that little tidbit about your sleep schedule. his heart so genuinely aches.

- “Y/N.. when was the last time you got any proper sleep?”

- you flinch, visibly at the question. with an awkward laugh you inform him that it had been at least a week since you’ve had the time to actually sleep.

- “why didn’t you sleep today? on your day off?”

- “i uhm.. wanted to see you. i know you had a date planned and i was excited to see you. sorry for.. ruining your plans”

- he’s devastated by how cute you are. hugs you so damn tight.

- “baby, you can see me whenever. im happy being with you even if all we’re doing is napping together”

- when you mumble a soft “oh” in his chest, he can’t help but melt into a sigh. before you can protest, he’s dragging you back to his car and driving you home ignores your protests and buckles you, covering you with his jacket before kissing the crown of your head and telling you to sleep on the way back to his place.

- he watches you like a hawk the whole time until he arrives at his place. he wakes you up and carries you on his back until he gets inside. all he does is kick his shoes off before pulling the full weight of you down on his body, kissing your whole face.

- “sleep well baby. ill wake you up in a few”

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#bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou imagines #kirishima imagines #bnha imagines #writing tag #bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #kirishima x you #kirishima x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #this is SO self indulgent im embarassed #bye i rlly wrote this in an hour

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yesimwriting · 3 years

Note

Would you write a Kaz Brekker request where the reader is a bookworm and a crow and basically Kaz asks the reader to read to him as his way of apologizing after a argument that was his fault?

it a/n i did something kinda similar in a 'promise of rain' blurb,, but this concept is so cute to me:)) love it sm i moved it up my request cue lol

also IM IN COLLEGE NOW!! WHAT?? AND IVE BEEN TO A PARTY! AND IM JOINING A SORORITY AND I DID DRAMA AUDITIONS AND AHH !! SO DIFFERENT! I MISS MY MOM AND SISTER AND DOG AND EVEN MY DAD BUT IM HAPPY HERE!!

also im a little worried this might not portray kaz superrrrr accurately bc it's been awhile so just let me know,, feedback leads to improvement:)) also kinda set this up for a part 2 bc...well youll see

They've always said a lot of things about him, and I've always heard them. But I've never quite believed them. Sure, I get why the dark things that have flourished in the poisoned soil that is Ketterdam consider Kaz Brekker the darkest thing of all. I understand the nickname 'Dirtyhands' for the gloved criminal who has fooled each crime boss at least once. I understand each terrible thing they've said about him.

But I've never agreed with them. I've never even considered agreeing with them. Until today.

The thought that maybe everything people say about him is correct in a simple context struck me worse than the silence after our argument. It made me feel like both a fool and hypocrite. Kaz and I have had our fair share of spats over the relatively short time we've known each other, but never like this. Never so badly he stormed out of the room before I could. I squeeze the book in my lap even harder, desperate to focus on the words on the pages.

You didn't hurt him. He walked away because he decided you weren't worth the cost of his expensive time. I repeat those thoughts in my mind over and over again, letting them bitter me further. It's a lot easier to be mad than hurt. A lot easier to fuel your pain than try to understand your mistakes. Besides, tiredness is already dredging around in my chest and if I don't calm down a little I won't be able to fall asleep.

I had escalated the fight more than I should have. Knowing Kaz is like performing in a tightrope act. One must always be aware of where they're going. Watching what's in front of them without ever thinking too much about what's beneath or behind them. Today though, when I needed my balance most I chose to fall. I chose to dive, and apparently there was no net.

"Oh, you're doing that thing."

I roll my eyes at Jesper's voice as I fight down a yawn. I wipe my face with the back of my palm before turning. The burning behind my eyes never resulted in full tears, but I feel better after doing so. "What thing?"

"That terribly noble thing where you find it in yourself to take full blame for every single conflict you and boss man fall into." The slight humor in his voice is enough for me to roll my eyes again. "Between you and me, I'm sure the reason he's so angry now is because you didn't do that for once."

I press my lips together as my chin angles itself upwards slightly. "I never do that." He raises an eyebrow. The slight sympathy that colors the look is more offensive than his accusation. "If I pick and choose my battles, it's for good reason."

"Clearly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs once before further entering my room. I say nothing when he sits at the foot of my bed. "Oh, you know," Jesper stretches back casually, resting his back against the wall and extending his legs, "You and Kaz--Kaz and you."

Has he been drinking? Perhaps he's not here because of my unusual absence from downstairs after my fight with Kaz but because he's already too tipsy to think right. "What?"

At my confused look he grins, flashing all of his teeth with an arrogance that outshines the whiteness of them. He taps the still open book in my lap. "Let me put it in terms you'll understand." Jesper sits up a little further, amusement clear in his features. "You two make a shameful Elizabeth and Darcy--"

"Oh, shut up," I groan, glaring at him, "This isn't Pride and Prejudice. And Kaz and I," Jesper's smugness returns when I can't quite think of what I want to say, "We're barely friends--we're barely anything, let alone what you're implying."

Jesper pulls his legs up and shoves me gently. "Dearest, y/n," he ignores my glare, "You should know better than anyone that 'barely friends, barely anything' with Kaz is more than it is with anyone else?"

"That doesn't mea--"

"You two say goodnight to each other." Once. Kaz and I said good night to each other in front of Jesper once. How dare he assume it happens regularly? He's right, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with it. "You play cards with him. Not for money, not for skill--"

"It's for practice." The look Jesper gives me is enough to tell me that my defense didn't land.

Damn him for ever finding Kaz and I on one of those strange nights. One of those nights in which he lurks at the stairwell...the one that divides my room and his attic. One of those nights in which it feels like he's a phantom and I'm the only one that can really see him. A night in which we both silently find each other.

I couldn't quite believe it the first time it happened. I'm not exactly a Crow--I don't feel enough a connection to the Dregs to join them without some kind of guarantee--but I was needed for some obscure job. but I was needed for some obscure job. The Crows needed an insider who could blend into high society, and I needed a place to stay away from my father.

It worked. I worked. And with each passing day I found myself enjoying the Crows more and more. That's why I stayed. That's why I started checking the stairwell practically every night, a set of playing cards in my hand.

The first time had been awkward. I couldn't sleep and my room felt too quiet, but the rambunctious club felt too loud and a little unsafe considering the hour. So I settled for the only space in between. When Kaz found me sitting on the steps and playing a solitary card game I had been so stunned by embarrassment I just offered to deal him in. I had been more shocked when he silently accepted my offer.

"Practice?" Jesper repeats. "You were laughing, I heard you."

"That was one time--how do you know we didn't just happen to play cards together the one time you saw it?"

"Because you laughed about a play you considered 'predictable'."

Sighing, I sit up a little straighter. "I'm not having this conversation. Occasionally saying 'goodnight' to someone who lives in the same space I live in and sometimes playing cards with said person because we both happen to be up at a certain time doesn't mean anything."

"And the way he looked at the contact that was flirting with you?"

Oh...this conversation again. "For the last time, the contact wasn't flirting with me. We had to dance to blend in and when he leaned towards me to whisper in my ear...it was to tell me the intel Kaz just had to have."

"And when he tucked that strand of hair behind your ear?"

"He just wanted to sell our cove--"

"Y/n, he kissed your cheek and I'm fairly certain he would have kissed you if Kaz and I hadn't made it to the corridor at that second."

Why is everyone so obsessed with what would have never happened? The contact had been attractive, tall with fair eyes and hair. But it's not like I feel anything for him, nor would I have been so foolish during a job. A fact that Kaz refuses to believe. I'm tired of this argument...I'm just tired. This job required me to start getting ready early in the morning and lasted long into the night.

"I wouldn't have kissed him and even if I had, the fact that Kaz is so mad about feels...sexist." A stupid argument, considering that Kaz couldn't care less if the person he's working with is female, male, or anything in between because the only thing he cares about is profit. "It's a stupid thing to be mad about, but you hit on anything with a pulse at any time and--"

"I resent that--"

"For the first two weeks I was here I thought you might've been a prostitute."

I can feel him holding in a laugh. "Did you at least think I was a good prostitute?" When I glare again, he finally actually laughs. "Not the point--got it."

"Then what is the point? You're bored and obsessed with gossip so now you're shaking me for information you don't need."

"The point is you're oblivious." Rude...I move my leg in a weak attempt to push him off my bed. Jesper catches my ankle easily, ignoring my attempt at a fight. "You thought the contact was only doing his job and you don't know the real reason that Kaz blew up at you for the first time the way he blows up at everyone."

"Okay, well since you know everything, tell me why he's mad."

He lets out a sigh like he can't believe I even needed to ask that. "It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy."

...Maybe he is drunk? "Don't be so cryptic. I don't like you enough to put up with that."

Jesper half-sighs again before pushing himself off my bed. "I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that."

"Asshole," I mumble instinctually as he walks towards my door. "Are you not telling me because I tried to push you off the bed?"

He turns when he reaches my door in order to lean against my door frame. "It's not not because of that." I should throw my book at his head. "In all seriousness, think about it. If you don't you'll either kill each other or kill me."

Ugh...he's so confusing. This time, I let him go. He leaves he door open, which is beyond annoying. I stand up to close it, promising myself I will focus on my book the second it's in my hands again. As I walk back towards my bed, my eyes land on the deck of cards on my nightstand.

Does it send a signal I don't want to send if I don't go the stairwell tonight? Do I want to send a signal? I don't know...actually, the only thing I know is that I don't want to think about this a second longer. I don't ease as I read, but my eyelids become heavier with each word they cross. I feel the weight of them as my focus slips, farther and farther away until I can no longer focus. When my eyes fall shut I can't bring myself to think or force them open.

I notice my surprised before I register that I've just woken up. Falling asleep feels so far and yet the crick in my neck confirms the obvious. Rubbing the eyes with the back of my hand, I push my book from my lap and sit up. The only indication of how much time has passed is how much my bedside candle has melted.

How long have I been asleep? How did I manage to fall asleep? I thought I was too mad at Kaz to manage anything but pouting in my room. I hadn't even decided if I wanted to talk to him.

I stand even though I haven't decided anything. I should at least change if I want to go to bed. But is leaving this alone for even longer a bad idea? I think Jesper thought so...though my conversation with him is far from clear. It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy. I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that. What does he want me to do with that?

Maybe he was partially intoxicated and felt the need to play the role of a good friend. Or maybe this is his idea of a joke.

Whatever--regardless of Jesper, I have a choice to make. A tiny part of me hopes it's insignificant, but I know Kaz enough to know that nothing is insignificant to him. He holds onto things the way he holds onto his kruge. Perhaps I'll seek out Inej, she seems to be the best at rationalizing. Though she might be asleep by now, or on a job or...I don't even know.

How late is it? Is it late enough to be one of the few hours Kaz claims to reserve for sleep? Maybe my bad luck is still around and he's already in bed for once. Does that mean his anger will extend to tomorrow?

I shouldn't care. It's not like I'm in the wrong. Did I escalate things? Maybe a little...but I won't apologize for defending myself. Even though that makes everything a little easier. I feel stuck, like in some kind of place of half sleep. A single knock at my door is enough to make me want to jump. I rub my eyes a little more firmly in hopes of waking up more before someone sees me.

I approach the door without worry. Maybe it's not as late as I assumed. Or maybe it's really early? I open the door while still fighting against my slight disorientation. I'm so focused on acting normal, I almost don’t register the person standing at my door.

I don’t know who I expected, or what--maybe Jesper, much more tipsy than he was before, slumped against the doorframe, only knocking because he’s too tired to push the door open. Maybe even Inej, on her way here to deliver some kind of job or notice of dismissal. But it’s nothing I could expect. It’s...Kaz.

The Dirtyhands stands at my door, expression as hard as ever yet something behind his eyes that burns the sleep away from me. “Uh--hi.” I bite my tongue to avoid cringing at that very awkward beginning. “Are you here to kick me out yourself?” The only response I get is the slightest shift of his gaze off of my face. “No? Well then I think I’m going to bed. It’s late.”

My tone and words are clear. Get out of my doorway, I’m in no mood to go back to arguing. When he still doesn’t say anything, I’m emboldened by my nerves. I push the door between us without breaking eye contact.

Before the wood can meet the doorframe, he moves his cane, wedging it between us. “Y/n.” I don’t understand the way he says my name, but I’m certain he’s never said it like that. “I...” When he’s not prompted by the uncomfortableness of silence, I raise an eyebrow, my grip on the door tightening. “What I said shouldn’t have been said.” Wait--is he admitting fault? I’m so thrown I almost melt entirely. “Not to you.”

The addition leaves him so lowly a part of me wonders if I’ve imagined it. I’m so thrown by it I don’t even think to reply until a long second has passed. “You seemed to believe the opposite a few hours ago.”

His lips press together for a moment. “You didn’t ask me to play cards tonight.” He took that as intentional? At least that got me some kind of apology? I keep my mouth shut, greed making me want more information. I guess he must sense my silent tugging because he head inclines slightly. “Don’t push.”

I fight down a grin. “Push what?” His only response to stiffen further. “I’m going to tell you something as a peace offering.” That seems to intrigue him in some way. I can’t tell if it’s a good kind of interested, but I note the slight raise of his eyebrows and his intentional silence. “I didn’t chose not to ask you to play cards.” He gives me no indication of anything, which is fair...considering my vagueness. “I was mad, obviously, and in the middle of deciding on a course of action...and then I fell asleep.”

A long pause of silence. “You fell asleep?”

I’m not sure if his incredulous tone should offend me or not. If I wanted to lie, I’d like to think he knows me well enough to know that I’d have thought of a better excuse than that. Or at least a less embarrassing one. “Yes, it’s not that difficult to believe. Today had been long and all I wanted to do was read, but then Jesper came in to say the oddest things and then leave me to...”

Oh--oh. I guess there’s a reason people say to ‘sleep on’ something. Because now, actively remembering Jesper’s words for the first time since I fell asleep...I understand what Jesper was implying in the oddest way possible. He meant that Kaz and I...that perhaps there is a Kaz and I in a context that’s more than just grammatical. Wow. I really had to realize this with Kaz right in front of me.

My face feels warmer than it did before, an irrational bout of anxiety forcing me to consider that me might be able to read impossible, embarrassing thoughts from my expression alone.

“What did Jesper say?” I’m too lost in my own spiral of confusion and panic and some feeling I can’t recognize to register how Kaz asks his question. There’s an edge to it, an odd one, but that could easily just be Kaz.

This is most definitely the last conversation we need to be having. I’m still mad at him for his earlier dramatics. So I just shake my head, feigning an exhaustion I could lose myself in. “Nothing and everything all at once.” I resist the urge to rub my eyes again. “I’m pretty sure he was drinking, and I wasn’t really listening. I was just trying to read.”

Kaz’s expression hardens briefly as he takes in my words, and then he exhales, nodding once with the breath. “What were you reading?”

My lips part instinctually, ready to spew off details about the latest novel that’s captured my attention. But before I can let myself take off, the reality of the situation strikes me directly in the chest. This is not Nina, or Inej, or even Jesper after what he considers a ‘good night’. This is Kaz Brekker, the man believed to not have a soul. I’ve spoken to him before about casual things, though most of the nights in which we end up playing cards or just sitting near each other are spent in silence. But he’s never prompted me before. Not in the one topic he knows is guaranteed to turn me into an overenthusiastic, gushing fountain of poor summaries and character analysis.

I guess this is his peace offering. This shouldn’t warm the way it does. He was still unbelievably dramatic and treated me like I’m some kind of unreliable fool. “It’s late, and you know how I can be. I’d hate to keep you for nothing more than a poor summary and honestly, an embarrassing rant about plot or characters, because there’s just nothing as frustrating as when two people so clearly care about each other and both are too stubborn and oblivious to acknowledge it.”

Kaz’s eyebrows draw together just enough for me to be able to make out a shift of expression in the poor light. Perhaps his lingering irritation is preparing to rear its ugly head. The corner of his mouth seems to threaten to tilt upwards as Kaz angles his head to the side slightly. “I can’t imagine that position.”

No kidding. I bite my tongue to keep the sarcastic comment and awkward laugh that would sure follow it away. “Who can? That’s like half the point of reading.”

How can interaction feel so over and just at its beginning all at once? I press my lips together to avoid filling the silence with things I’d no doubt instantly regret. It’s easy to be mad at Kaz in the moment. Too easy. But to stay mad at him when his temper has passed and he returns with some kind of begrudging and admittedly awkward and uncertain truce is another task entirely.

“I’ve never understood your attachment to written words.”

“It’s not about understanding, it’s about everything else.”

“And you say I’m cryptic.” Is he...kinda almost joking? I straighten my spine, too tired to fight and too wounded to forgive. “There’s understanding in everything, nothing can survive on sentiment alone.”

“If you read the way I did, you’d understand.”

His lips press together as his expression remains unwavering in its hardness. “Read to me.”

...Interacting with Kaz in any way often leaves me feeling like I’m wandering through unknown territory. But this, this is undeniably different. So different I can’t even think of a way to react. I watch his expression as cautiously as possible. He’s purely reserved, no distinction from the look he wears during business propositions. Except there’s a tightness I can’t quite understand.

Maybe it’s because I don’t want to fight anymore. Maybe it’s because exhaustion is leaving me partially delirious. Or maybe it’s the weird feeling in my chest that I can’t quite place. That I don’t want to place. “Okay.” I shift carefully. “If for no other reason then to prove you wrong.”

Never did I think I’d end up in the position of sitting in my bed, book in hand, with Kaz Brekker sitting next to me. But here we are. I’m so tired, I almost let out a nervous laugh when he first walked in. So brooding and tall, gripping the head of his head cane as he sits at the foot of my bed, on my pastel quilt.

I’m glad for the excuse to keep my gaze away from him and on the words in front of me. I read out loud, feeling more and more comfortable with each page I finish. But as my inhibitions slip away, so dos my hold on consciousness. My eyelids seem to grow heavier with each word that I read.

“You’re falling asleep.”

I straighten my spine on instinct. “Am not.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to deny something so simple.

“You’re impossible.”

From him, that statement is laugh worthy. “I’m impossible? Do you not remember earlier today?”

From the way his jaw locks, I realize that he’s in no mood to be light about this topic. I don’t understand why. It’s not like I’m the one that wronged him. “I remember your lack of focus.”

Keeping my hands at my side to avoid rubbing my eyes, I frown. “If you want to have this argument again, fine. Jesper is more ‘distracted’ than me half the time and you’re much more lenient on him. It’s not like I was flirting with someone or gambling or doing anything but having a two second conversation. One that I needed to have to get information that you wanted.”

The last time we fought, I had more energy to restrain myself. This could be atomic. I hold my breath, waiting for Kaz’s retaliation. He exhales, eyes not meeting mine. “Arguing with you when you’re present is exhausting enough. It’s not worth it when you’re half asleep.”

This angers me further. I hate that he’s right. “I’m not half asleep.” He leaves it at that. I glare even harder at him, slumping further into my bed. “But for the sake of argument, I’ll drop it. Something you’re incapable of doing.”

At that, his eyes meet mine. I try to hold his gaze, but the harder I think about not seeming tired the more exhaustion slips in. A yawn escapes me before he looks away. Great. “I know when to lie in the grass in wait.”

Rolling my eyes, I shift back slightly. He’s incapable of being less dramatic than this. Still, I can’t imagine the effort it’s taking on his part to not start an argument. Maybe this is why Jesper spent so long implying that there may be a Kaz and I in any capacity beyond a vague kind of friendship. “I’ll admit you’re tactful.”

“Resourceful people recognize that trait in other people.”

Blinking twice, I lower my book slightly. Am I truly exhausted, or did he just compliment me in a way? “Careful, I may start to think you find me tolerable.”

“Let’s not exaggerate.” Okay, now I know I’m exhausted because I think he might have just attempted a joke. Rolling my eyes, I decide not to acknowledge this lightness in fear that I’ll scare it away. “Y/n?”

I press my lips together, worried about the destruction of our peace. “Yes?”

“What did Jesper say to you? Earlier?” I pause, slightly unsure why we’re moving backwards.

We’re in a decent place now, and I’d hate to ruin it. I’m too half asleep to lie eloquently. And it’s not like he’s an easily convinced man. “Oh, he said it so cryptically it took me longer than it should have to understand. And it didn’t help that it was something so...well, you might find it funny. As funny as you find anything, anyways.” Wow...I’ve spent such a long time talking. Rubbing the back of my eyes, I avoid his gaze. Exhaustion and awkwardness mix in my stomach oddly. “It seemed like he was trying to imply that you and I...me and you...” Why is this a difficult thing to say? It’s not like I was implying it and Jesper’s known for his oddness. “I think Jesper was implying that there was a you and I, or at least that there could be.” I’m too lost in a haze of almost sleep to watch his reaction. I let my head rest against my headboard even further. “Isn’t that odd?”

He’s quiet for a long second, and then he finally speaks again. “Odd, even for Jesper.” The response doesn’t satiate me...what’s that about? I exhale, deciding that feeling is tomorrow’s problem. When I blink, I decide to let my eyes stay closed. Just for a moment. The sound of something shifting is what makes my eyes squint open. Kaz is standing, his expression unreadable as he straightens. “Goodnight, y/n.”

At that, I sit up slightly, ignoring the exhaustion behind my eyes. “I haven’t finished the chapter.”

“You’ve convinced me of enough.” A concession? How exhausted do I seem? My lips press together as I think of my next argument. Before I can get it out, Kaz leans forward. He grabs the quilt at the end of my bed and tosses it onto my legs casually. “Goodnight, y/n.” The meaning of his repetition is clear. His word is final.

I find enough energy to manage a glare, but I pull the quilt over my legs anyways. “Goodnight, Kaz.”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x you #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone imagines #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows show #shadow and bone show #six of crows netflix

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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

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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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

The Last Semester – Part 19

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,192

Warning: Pregnancy Mentioned

Prior Parts: https://queenshelby.tumblr.com/post/659848352665600000/pairing-cillian-murphy-x-reader-words

After you received the somewhat strange message from Cillian and nothing else, you decided to drive over to his house not knowing that his boys were staying with him for the weekend.

You were sad, upset and angry about the way he behaved and, of course, you didn’t know that it wasn’t him who sent the message to you.

After you pulled into his driveway and rang the doorbell, he opened the door and stepped outside.

‘I can’t talk now Y/N, the boys are inside’ Cillian said almost surprised that you came to his place unannounced.

‘Why are you doing this to me?’ you asked, upset and angry.

‘Come on, not here’ Cillian said, grabbing the key from the sideboard inside the hallway and closing the door behind him before walking around the back of the house with you into his studio.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you? Sending me this message after you haven’t bothered to make contact with me for two weeks. Are you delusional?’ you shouted with anger as he closed the door behind you.

‘I am sorry Y/N. I don’t know what had gotten into me’ Cillian said, not wanting to tell you the truth about his son getting hold of his phone.

‘I just needed to think about this, about us’ he then said, somewhat confused and unsure whether he should be saying anything at all.

‘I am not doing this anymore Cillian. I am through with this, with you. I honestly am. You are 45 years old and are acting like a child’ you huffed out.

‘Exactly, I am 45. I am fucking 20 years older than you Y/N. How do you think this is going to work out, eh? I can guarantee you that, in about five years, you will be sick of this. I can’t risk that regardless of the feelings that I have for you’ Cillian responded somewhat frustrated.

‘Do you really trust me that little, thinking that I can’t commit to our relationship?’ you then asked somewhat saddened.

‘Y/N, I just think you need to be with someone your own age. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with you to start off with. It was a mistake’ Cillian then said, thinking back at your father’s words and even what his mother had told him after reading the article.

‘I was a mistake. Yeah, thanks’ you said before turning around, tears running down your face.

‘That’s not what I meant’ Cillian said, taking hold of your arms, realising what he had just said to you.

‘Don’t touch me. Fuck’ you growled, hormonal and full of anger.

‘Y/N, I love you. It just isn’t going to work’ Cillian then said and you were quick to shut him off once again, knowing that this wasn’t going anywhere until Cillian became to realise that the social perceptions about your relationship and the obstacles you were facing didn’t matter if your bond was strong.

‘I need to go’ you then quickly huffed out and Cillian gave you a quick nod, his eyes teary and his mind struggling with the thought of letting go of you once and for all, thinking that it was the right thing to do.

***

When you arrived back home, you were in tears and your father was quick to ask you what had happened.

‘Well, you got what you wanted all along. Cillian realised that getting involved with me was a mistake’ you huffed out, at which point your stepmother looked at you rather concerned.

‘Y/N, he is right though. It was never going to work out. You are at two different stages of your lives’ your father said almost relieved in a way. Yet, you could tell that his mind was elsewhere.

‘Yeah, perhaps one of your other friends is more suitable’ you said sarcastically, knowing that your father’s argument with Cillian had something to do with Cillian’s change of mind. But of course, you didn’t know all of the reasons behind it. You didn’t know about Cillian’s agent having been in his ear for months nor did you know about Cillian’s ex wife’s numerous stunts since she found out about you.

Instead of responding to your somewhat inappropriate comment, your father bit his tongue. He didn’t say anything. In fact, he spoke neither to you nor to your stepmother Lorraine for the remainder of the evening.

***

The following day, at around 8 o’clock, when you spent the first night in your new apartment in Dublin, you got a call from your stepmother asking whether you knew where your father was.

‘A few weeks ago, before everything turned to shit, Cillian mentioned that his friend Enda was visiting Dublin for a few days this month. Maybe he is having a drink with him at the pub?’ you said, unsure where else he could be.

‘Well, usually he tells me if he goes out and doesn’t come home for dinner’ she said somewhat worried, but you didn’t know what to tell her.

***

Around the same time when your stepmother called you to enquire about your father’s whereabouts, Cillian heard a loud knock on the door.

‘Hey’ your father said, slightly drunk as Cillian opened the door and their friend Enda, who was staying at Cillian’s house for a few days, walked through the hallway.

‘Hold on, I will get my camera before you start beating each other up. I am going to cash in at the Courier Mail if I get a good picture’ Enda chuckled as Cillian was lost for words, surprised to see your father at the door.

‘I am not here to pick a fight. I am here because I want to have some drinks with my friends’ your father said and, just as he did, Cillian asked him to come inside and handed him a beer.

‘Are you alright? You don’t look so good man’ Cillian said as the three of them sat down in the living room.

‘I am fine. You?’ your father asked politely, but already knowing the answer to his question.

‘Fine’ Cillian said following which there was an awkward silence between the three of them.

‘How are the boys?’ your father then asked.

‘Fine. I can see them again, at least’ Cillian said.

‘Of course, your ex withheld contact again when you and Y/N were seeing each other’ your father said, knowing that it wasn’t the first time that this has happened.

‘Let’s not talk about Y/N please. I have a media engagement tomorrow and need my face intact’ Cillian chuckled.

‘Sorry about that man. I was angry’ your father said, causing Cillian to nod.

‘I deserved it’ Cillian said briefly before Enda quickly changed the topic.

‘So, how is Lorraine? How are your boys?’ Enda then asked.

‘Lorraine, my fucking wife, I think she is cheating’ your father huffed out causing Enda and Cillian to look at him with surprise.

‘What makes you think that?’ Cillian then asked.

‘I fucking found this in the trash. She is fucking pregnant’ your father then said as he pulled the pregnancy test out of his jacket and put it onto the living room table.

‘You lost me there, man. Couldn’t the baby be yours?’ Enda asked somewhat flustered.

‘I had a vasectomy four years ago man’ your father said.

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#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy imagine

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mizunetzu · 3 years

Note

YOURE DOPE ASS SHIT HOMIE <3333 can i get uuHHHhh mutha fuckin tanaka x femboy reader ?

HAHAHA SAY LESS I NEVER EXPECTED TO GET A TANAKA REQUEST IM-

——————

Tanaka x reader - one date wonder

⚠️ warnings - reader is referred to as a girl unintentionally, by Nishinoya in the beginning. Don’t worry, I assure you this is a Male Fic. Ta-ho.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

If there was one thing Tanaka hated, it was pretty boys.

They were so over hyped. Just because they have a handsome face, all of a sudden they’re the talk of the town. Especially if they had a skirt on and whatnot. What happened to personality?

“Oi oi Ryu!”

Tanaka didn’t notice Nishinoya shoving a phone towards his face. He continued skimming through the Miyagi volleyball weekly magazine. “If I see one more article about that prick Oikawa I’m gonna-“

“Ryu!” Nishinoya practically slapped Tanaka’s head with his phone. Tanaka yelped.

“Hell was that for?!”

Nishinoya wordlessly held up his phone uncomfortably close to Tanaka’s face.

A girl with (h/l), boyish hair and a pretty pink skirt stood tall on Nishinoya’s small phone screen. The girl had cute (h/c) hair, framing her face as she posed with her hand flexed into a peace sign.

She was totally his type.

“Apparently she goes to our school.” Noya giddily scrolled through the girls feed, careful not to accidentally like anything as to not be caught stalking her page. Tanaka exhaled.

“Dude...if I ever see her I think I’m boutta simp.”

“Riiiight?” Nishinoya held down his phone screen to let Tanaka in on the girls social media page.

———

Walking into class the next day, he ran into a horde of girls surrounding someone in the middle of the room. There seemed to be someone in the center, awkwardly chuckling and trying to say something, but it was drowned out but the vociferous squeals or questions thrown at them. Tanaka couldn’t quite make out the person’s face.

Stalking closer, trying to subtly peek from over the heads of the girls, the person’s eyes slowly panned over to him. They locked eyes. Something seemed oddly familiar about that person. He couldn’t quite place it, though.

The person’s eyes lit up and they wadded their way out of the horde and made their way to him. Upon closer inspection, the person was handsome, and wearing the boy’s gakuran. It made sense, he was being crowded around a bunch of girls gawking at his pretty face. He immediately puffed out his chest and scowled.

“Oi oi! Got a problem, pretty boy?”

“P-pre...” The person, who he now knew was a boy, flushed and shook his head. “A-anyways! Tanaka-kun, can...”

“C-Can you meet me in the school courtyard after class!”

The boy bowed suddenly, making Tanaka falter and step back. He awkwardly coughed. “Uh-sorry man, do I know you?”

Of course he knew him. He was that one popular second year in class 2-4 that every girl was throwing their panties at. He found it weird that he wanted to talk to him out of everyone.

“My name is (L/n) (Y/n)! I’m-im in class 4 but I...don’t think we‘ve ever spoken before...”

“Then why do you wanna meet up later? Do you needa tell me sumthin’? Can’t you just tell me now?”

“No!” (Y/n) puffed out his cheeks. For such a high strung popular pretty boy, he was acting pretty fumbly and flustered. “I can’t say it here-!”

“Uh...ok...see you there...?”

“Thank you!” (Y/n) smiled, walking through the eavesdropping girls and out the door.

Tanaka wondered why he looked so familiar. Oh well, it’s probably nothing.

———

Tanaka picked at his unbuttoned school uniform, standing under a cherry tree in the school courtyard. It took him every single ounce of his body not to just up and leave.

His ears perked up at the sound of rapid footsteps approaching him. There stood this boy from before, doubled over and heaving in front of him. Tanaka shoved his hands in his pockets.

“So-what’ja need, dude?” Tanaka tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. (Y/n’s) head snapped up, and he stiffly straightened upright.

“This is for you-!” He averted his gaze as he outstretched a pristine white envelope to Tanaka with both hands, a cute little heart sticker sealing the opening flap shut. Tanaka blinked once. Twice.

Did a girl ask him to give this to him? Wait, why would this pretty boy who probably thought he was some ruffian scum randomly be giving him this love letter? Was he trying to make fun of him? Did he think that he didn’t get love confessions because he wasn’t a popular pretty boy like him?

“Oi, you tryna mock me or something? Tryna make fun of me pretending a girl wanted you to give this to me?” Tanaka puffed out his chest, tilting his chin up. (Y/n) paled.

“No! No! This-“ (Y/n’s) grip on the letter tightened, crumpling the smooth paper ever so slightly at the corners. “This i-is a real letter...f-from me to you, Tanaka-kun...!”

Tanaka blinked again. Huh? Huh?!

“I like you, Tanaka-kun! I know it’s weird because you don’t know me and I’m really popular and ‘wow why is this popular dude talking to me haha and why is he so awkward’ but I really wanted to tell you and-“

(Y/n’s) phone buzzed. He stopped in his tracks, and fished his phone out of his black school pants. Tanaka, even though he knew he shouldn’t, peeked over his head a bit, trying to see what was on his phone.

Powering it on, a picture of a girl with boyish hair and pink overall-skirt popped up on screen, holding up a peace sign near her eyes. That girl looked familiar.

Oh! That was the girl that him and Noya were fawning over the other day! Now that he thought about it, the girl and (Y/n) looked very similar. Like, very, very, similar. Same hair, same eyes, same everything...

That’s when something clicked in Tanaka’s head.

(Y/n) clicked out of his Home Screen and shot a quick text to someone on his phone. He pocketed it once more.

“A-anyways, sorry Ta-“

“Are you a crossdresser?!”

“Cr...” (Y/n) sputtered. Tanaka pointed bluntly at (Y/n), eyes widened in disbelief.

“No! No I’m not! I...why can’t I wear feminine clothes without being called a crossdresser...”

(Y/n’s) shoulders slumped over. Stagnant air surrounded them as (Y/n’s) nimble fingers dropped the letter carelessly, letting it flutter towards the ground gracefully.

‘Fuck. Fuuuuck. Me and my big mouth...’

Tanaka awkwardly cleared his throat. “I-I didn’t mean it like that! I’m sorry, man! There’s no harm in um...wearing that-! Shit, uh. How can I make it up to you?”

(Y/n) smirked. He slowly raised his head up. He held out his pointer finger.

“You can make it up to me by going out on a date with me.”

Tanaka deadpanned. Treacherous pretty boy snake. “Wh-“

(Y/n) clasped his hands together. “Please! Just one! And we don’t even have to hold hands or anything! After that it’s done! It’s just-“

“F-fine.”

(Y/n) looked up. “Really...?”

“I mean, it wasn’t cool of me to call you a crossdresser, so if it’s just one...”

“All right!”

———

The date went by like a dream. Even if Tanaka didn’t harbor much feelings for (Y/n), he still enjoyed eating free food.

Though, he couldn’t help himself from occasionally staring at (Y/n). Not because he had something on his face of anything,

But because he was wearing a a high-waisted black plaid skirt with a belt secured snuggly on his waist, with a slightly baggy baby pink sweater that looked comfortable enough to sleep in. And to top it all off, a small kitty hair clip pinning some loose strands of hair behind his ear.

He looked exactly like he did on his social media. Tanaka gulped.

Even if he was a guy, he couldn’t help but notice how his skin seemed to glow off the fabric of his sweater, or how his skirt complimented his body perfectly.

“U-uh, (L/n)-san?” Tanaka was trying to be as respectable as he could. (Y/n) stopped eating mid bite and waiting for him to go on.

“Why do you uh, pose as a girl on social media if you don’t want people thinking your a girl..? No offense, I mean? Just wonderin’, y’know.” Tanaka took a huge bite out of his food to occupy his running mouth.

“Oh.” (Y/n) pulled up his phone and booted up his profile on social media. “It says in my bio that I’m a dude. So, it’s kind of the persons fault if they mistook me as a girl, but I don’t mind if they do...! I think I look pretty...”

Tanaka flushed. Yeah, he definitely wouldn’t deny it. He was kinda cute when he tried hiding his blushing face behind his chopsticks. But he wouldn’t say it out loud. It’s like he liked him or anything, no. Definitely not!

———

Next day at school, Tanaka felt a strange sort of emptiness in his chest. It felt hollow, like he was coming off a high and dealing with the consequences. And he had no fucking clue why.

“Dude...I feel so depressed...” Tanaka slumped over a box in the club room, sighing dramatically. Nishinoya hummed while scrolling through (Y/n’s) profile, once again.

There was a sour taste in his mouth. Tanaka glared holes into Noya’s side, until Noya finally looked up from his phone.

“Dude, why’re you glaring at me-“

“Help me with my baggage I’m feelin’ depressed and I don’t know why!” Nishinoya sighed, before smiling widely and standing up with his chest out.

“Ok. Doctor Nishinoya here. What seems to be the problem, good sir.”

Tanaka snickered. It was Nishinoya’s turn to glare at him.

“So, I went on a date with this gu-, um, girl, and I only went because I promised, so now I don’t know why I’m feeling so sad.”

“Liaaar. Siiiiimp.”

“Shut up!” Tanaka barked at Nishinoya. “I’m tellin’ the truth here!”

“Well,” Tanaka gave Nishinoya a look to go on. Noya clicked a pen he found on the club room floor and adjusted his non-existent glasses. “Sounds like you caught feelings, dude.”

Tanaka sputtered. “I-I couldn’t have!”

“You totally could.”

“Could not!”

“You could”

“Not!”

“Why not, then?” Nishinoya crossed his arms.

“Because the person I went on a date with is a dude!”

Nishinoya choked on air. Tanaka covered his mouth. Noya sighed.

“Well, maybe you’re just a lil’ gay then.”

“I’M NOT!”

——

Ok, maybe he was. Just a little bit. A teeny weeny bit.

Tanaka found himself standing outside the 2-4 classroom, and he frankly didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he was so nervous too. He was really, really scared to go inside. But he wouldn’t show it.

Which is why he was leaning on the wall across from the door, with a scowl on his face and a suffocating, intimidating aura around him. Ennoshita walked out of the 2-4 classroom, before immediately being drowned in Tanaka’s scary presence.

“Jesus Christ Tanaka-kun, you scared the hell out of me!” Ennoshita rubbed his eyes. “Anyways, did you need something? Were you waiting for me or something?”

Tanaka’s face relaxed. “Uh! Actually I-I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here, so I’m just gonna-“

“Tanaka-kun?”

Shit.

Tanaka slowly turned around. Standing in the classroom door frame was (Y/n), holding a bento and looking directly at Tanaka.

“Oh-! Sorry, sorry, please give me a second-ah-!” (Y/n) excused himself from his growing horde of female classmates, worming his way out of the classroom.

“What are you doing here?”

Tanaka’s mouth ran dry. Nishinoya’s voice rang in his ear.

‘Well, maybe you’re just a lil’ gay then.’

Fuck! Maybe he was. But fuck.

“U-uh...” A million thought went through Tanaka’s head, and went blank at the same time. It was the same feeling he gets whenever he looked at Kiyoko. The same tingly, warm, simp-y feeling.

Ennoshita looked between the two, before gasping in realization. “Oh. Oh! So-uh, I’m gonna...head to practice-Daichi said he needed me for something bye-!”

Ennoshita whispered a “Tell him.” in Tanaka’s ear as he walked by, then promptly disappeared behind a wall. Tanaka looked back at (Y/n).

“Um...h-hi...”

‘Fuck! Stop stuttering!’

Tanaka leaned against the wall, trying to seem as cool and suave as he could. (Y/n) put his hands in his pockets.

“Did’ya need something from me?”

‘Tell him. Tell him. Tell him.’

Shut up, Ennoshita! Tell him what, exactly? He didn’t know if he was even sure about his feelings or not.

“So...about our um...date a few days ago..” Tanaka also shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Ah! You’re here to tell me it was weird going out with a guy! Or that it was weird going out with a guy in a skirt! I’m-“

“No! No! Not at all!” Tanaka blurted out. (Y/n) let his mouth fall shut.

“I just...” Tanaka pursed his lips. “...Maybe we could, I dunno, go out on...another date.”

“Really?!”

Tanaka flushed and furrowed his brows. “Y-Yeah! You got a problem with that-!”

“Yeah! I mean no! I mean I’d love to go!” (Y/n) grasped onto Tanaka’s hands, squeezing them tightly. “Are you free this Friday at around 8?”

“‘Course I am!”

“It’s a date, then, Tanaka-kun.”

——————

Epilogue:

“No way your going out with her.”

“Him.” Tanaka corrected, pointing at Nishinoya’s phone. An image of (Y/n) holding up a cat he found on the street in an oversized sweater was on screen. “It’s a dude. And he’s my boyfriend.”

Nishinoya stopped walking. Tanaka raised his eyebrows.

“You’re such a liar, dude-“

“Tanaka-kun!”

A voice rang out, with growing footsteps approaching behind them. Both Tanaka and Nishinoya turned around, though with the dark moonlight it was hard to see who it was.

Someone wearing a skirt, tucked in shirt, and Karasuno jacket stopped behind the two. Tanaka smirked triumphantly what Nishinoya gawked, looking between his phone and the person.

(Y/n) smiled. “Are we still on for our date today? I know it’s kinda late...”

“Course we are, babe.” Tanaka smugly wrapped his arm around (Y/n), making sure Nishinoya saw. Noya’s mouth fell open.

“HOLY-WHAT THE FUCK! RYU, HOW’D YOU-“

“To be honest I don’t really know either.”

——————

#haikyuu tanaka #tanaka ryuunosuke #hq tanaka #tanaka x reader #tanaka x male reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x male reader #hq x male reader #haikyu x male reader #haikyuu boys

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seungmvnnie · 3 years

Text

Flipped

pairing; Chenle x reader

genre; enemies to lovers au, ‘American high school’ au, angst, fluff

word count; 10.8k

summary; ‘The moment you laid eyes on Zhong Chenle, you had flipped.’ You had known that you were in love with Chenle, your next door neighbor, since you were 7 years old. Chenle wanted nothing to do with you. Until of course, ten years later he starts to realize that perhaps there’s more to you that meets the eye, unluckily just as you began to realize, perhaps Chenle was less than you had chalked him up to be.

warnings; insensitive language regarding illness, death, female reader, heavily inspired by the movie flipped, some scenes are near word for word from the movie, so credits to the movie for those parts, although parts of the main narrative differ, as well as scenes. A large majority of the characters are not similar to their real life counterpart.

tag list; @sunflowerhae @byunbaekby @mikasrecs(if you asked to be on the tag list and i didn’t tag you, i’m very sorry, i was terrible at tracking who was on it cause im an idiot)

a/n; Started making it. Had a breakdown. Bon Appetit.

It all began in the Summer before second grade. In Zhong Chenle’s eyes, it was the beginning of a decade of strategic avoidance, awkward encounters, and a lifetime worth of what he deemed to be, discomfort.

For you, it was true love.

The moment you laid eyes on Zhong Chenle, you had flipped. It was something in those eyes, those dazzling brown eyes which bore into you. Or maybe it was something about his smile. There was something about him which made you realize that at 7 years old, you had met your soul mate. His family had just moved into your neighborhood, a long cul-de-sac of identical, modern two-story houses, the majority of which had the same identical clean cut lawns and typical nuclear well off family who owned the house and prided themselves on how their petunias were better than the house across the streets. That was except for yours, of course. Deemed the ‘embarrassment of the neighborhood,’ the yellow paint on your house was flaking off, the grass dry and grey and the fence encasing the yard, which had at one point been white was now a dull grey, not to mention falling apart in some places. This was attributed to the fact that your father simply did not have the time. As a painter, he had to work extra hard to provide for his family, especially considering your mother’s situation.

It was a hot summer’s day, the day Chenle moved in. You could remember the feeling of the sun on your face as you basked in its warmth, the pavement on which you sat almost boiling as the moving van pulled up to the house opposite yours. You had recalled that your father had told you to always be kind and helpful, which is why you had thought it appropriate to skip across the road to the nice looking family and offer a helping hand.

Little did you know, your help was unwanted. Chenle remembered watching the girl skip – skip? As if anyone had done that since kindergarten – from the odd-looking house across the way and when she confidently stated,

“Hi, I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Need any help?” He looked to his father for confirmation that this girl was strange. He noticed the judgmental look which was written on his father’s face as he surveyed the girl with the messy hair and grubby clothes, no doubt from playing in the unpleasant yard which she came from that juxtaposed with their clean, green yard. He recognized the exact moment that his father deemed them better than her, a switch in his face where he knew where she stood on the social ladder. Acting according, he too looked at the girl with disdain.

“There’s some valuable things in those boxes. Don’t touch them.” His father had scolded as you reached for one of the boxes that were stacked on their lawn.

“What about this one?” You suggested, reaching for another one. This was the moment that Chenle had realized that this girl could not take a hint. His father had pushed the box away with his foot before you could even touch it.

“Maybe you should run home? Your moms probably worried about you.” He sneered, staring down his nose on you. Resilient, you stared back.

“My dad knows I’m here.” You had replied simply, before turning to Chenle.

“Want to push one together?” You asked, pointing at one of the heavier ones. Chenle scrunched his face up at you, looking to his father for answers.

“I think your mom wants your help in the house, Chenle.” His dad had replied, not so subtly winking at him, as if to say, ‘escape from the crazy girl while you can.’

He seized the opportunity, turning on his heel and running towards the house, where his mother stood in the doorway, when the most ridiculous thing happened. Not only did (Y/N) (Y/L/N) follow him, but you grabbed his hand.

“Oh, hello! I see you’ve met my son.” His mother had called out, a small smile growing on her face as she observed the sight of the two 7-year olds connected by their hands.

Chenle, having no clue how to escape the situation, did the most mature thing a 7-year-old boy could do. He hid behind his mother.

Who did you think you were? He had been here for less than 10 minutes and he had some crazy girl trying to hold his hand.

Of course, for you, you really had thought you were being kind. The boxes on the lawn did look intimidatingly heavy but you were sure with the help of the cute boy stood next to them, you could help get them into the house. You hadn’t picked up on the fact that it had taken Mr. Zhong all of 10 seconds to determine that you weren’t worthy of their time and when he had sent his son inside to help unpack, you thought maybe it would be a good idea to chase after him, see if he wanted to play for a bit before he was stuck unpacking boring boxes. You had grabbed his arm to stop him from running into his house, when he turned around and moved his arm out of your clasp, grabbing your hand instead.

You could remember vividly, the way your stomach had flipped as he stared at you with those deep brown eyes, and you had been so sure he was going to kiss you. He had held your hand! At 7, you had basically considered that a marriage proposal. If his mother had not have called out to you, you were sure you were going to have had your first kiss at 7 years old. The way he blushed and hid behind his mother was adorable, he was so shy.

That night you lay awake, thinking of the boy who was walking around with your first kiss.

If only he wasn’t so shy, maybe he would have. That was the moment you decided, you were going to do everything in your power to ensure that Chenle would not have to ever feel shy around you. He needed to know; he had a friend in you.

While sweet in theory, the reality of the situation was, Chenle believed he did not need the help of, what his father had referred to the evening after you, your two older brothers and your father brought over homemade pies, ‘trash like them.’ He especially did not need the help of the girl who embarrassed him on the first day of school. Yes, you had thought it appropriate, upon seeing Chenle enter the classroom of Mr. Lee on the very first day of school, to run up to him and give him a huge hug, which he of course, had struggled against. That’s what had earned him the reputation of being (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s boyfriend, a reputation he did not manage to shrug off until freshman year of high school, and he only got rid of through dating Lee Chaeryong for an incredibly brief period of time, who was perfectly sweet, but he didn’t find her particularly interesting.

For a while, he found dealing with Chaeryong’s insistence yammering about nothing he cared about a lot easier to endure than the lovesick eyes you gave him. The plan was, he would walk her to class a few times, sit with her at lunch and eventually, you would lose interest, he could break up with her. It was all going smoothly, until his best friend, Park Jisung, suddenly decided to get a moral backbone for once and tell Chaeryong what Chenle was doing. Chenle reckoned it was just because of Jisung’s own crush on her, but either way, it had resulted in a very public breakup. A week later, you were back to obsessing over him, and once again he became, (Y/N)’s boyfriend.

3 years later, their senior year, brought a lot of changes, the main change of which being Chenle’s grandfather had permanently moved in with their family. Chenle did not know much of his grandfather. An old surly man, he spent his days sat in the armchair beside their front window, staring blankly out into the empty street. Chenle’s mom said he did that because he missed grandma, although Chenle would not know as much he had very little conversations with him. The second change in Chenle’s life was more superficial as everyone was talking about how much (Y/N) had grown between the summer of junior and senior year – your face had thinned out, and you had a much more of a mature air about you and for a brief moment of, what Chenle had deemed insanity, he may have mistaken you as pretty. Of course, the second you had sent him the same goofy smile which graced your face every time you looked at him, and murmured the same,

“Hi, Chenle,” the pit in his stomach from the tired repetition of ten years returned.

“Hi, (Y/N).” He had replied, a tight-lipped smile sent your way.

It is imperative to the justification of your side of the story that you understand that Chenle had never once openly rejected you, or even treated you rudely. You would talk to him when you could, and he would reply perfectly politely, which would only reinforce the idea that it’s not that he did not like you, he was just shy. On top of that, it was not as if you actively pursued him. You spoke to him like one would a friend as, how you saw it, everyone knew you liked Chenle, no doubt, including him. If he wanted to, he would ask you out. Other than that, you were content talking to him when you could.

Other than your looks, a lot more had changed in your life. For almost as long as you could remember, your mother had been sick. There had been a time, a very long time ago, where you could recall how the same scalic motif would echo from the piano which now lay dormant, the thick layer of dust that had blanketed it over the years rendering it inoperable. Your life had been filled with hospital visits to a woman you had never really gotten the opportunity to know and who no longer knew you. You often grazed your hand over the ivory piano keys, and tried to flick through the penciled sheet music which hadn’t been touched since the last time your mom had last scribbled on them but to you it was a foreign language you could only hope to understand.

About a week into September, you had been ignoring your English teacher’s in-depth analysis of some Shakespeare scene and letting your thoughts and eyes wander to where Chenle sat two seats in front of you. His black hair had seemed even darker that day, contrasting with the white t-shirt and denim jacket he was wearing. You were so focused on the way his head would duck down to take notes, that you barely noticed the teacher who had slid into the classroom and leaned to whisper something in your teacher’s ear. It wasn’t until your teacher had called your name and Chenle had spun to stare at you alongside the rest of the class, his brown eyes meeting yours, that you had snapped back into reality, the heat of your embarrassment at getting caught by Chenle warming your face. Funnily enough, you had forgotten about your embarrassment when your teacher had called you out into the hallway, where your tearful father stood. He didn’t have to say anything. You knew.

The next week all blurred together into a flurry of emotions which you purposefully tried your best to forget. The funeral was huge, groups of people from your school coming to show solidarity, as well as the entire neighborhood, including Chenle and his family. You could not bring yourself to glance at him, not with your father crying quietly next to you. You did not know whether to cry for the woman you had never met before.

Your school allowed you the next few months off school, but you had returned after only one month and that month was the quietest your house had ever been. Your father locked himself in his room for the first two weeks, and your brothers oversaw making dinner for the family, which essentially meant the whole family was living off frozen pizza for two weeks. Your dad eventually emerged from his bedroom, but when he did, he was like a man crazed. He insisted that you did a spring clean (it was September) of the house and get rid of the clutter which had gathered from the many years of neglect. You were in charge of sorting through all of the things your dad wanted to give to charity, and you had invited your friend Shin Ryujin over to help. More like she insisted. Ryujin had been new to town in freshmen year and had befriended you before she had known of your reputation as ‘Chenle’s stalker,’ and she had been a fierce friend ever since. You had both been folding a pile of old clothes when your eyes fell on your mom’s old music stand accompanied with that oh so familiar stack of written sheet music under a pile of old toys.

You didn’t want your mom’s handwritten sheet music to end up in a charity shop but your dad had insisted that no one was using it, and, unless you could think of someone else to give it to, it was going to charity. That was when, luckily, you remembered Chenle. He was a skilled piano player and singer, so much so, the whole school anticipated his performance in the Christmas Talent Show, which he had won for the past 3 years. Upon gaining your father’s permission, but against the wishes of Ryujin who had spent the past three years explaining how Chenle was terrible for you and you needed to, in her words, ‘Hoe it up,’ you made the journey across the road and knocked on Chenle’s door, clutching the music stand and sheet music to your chest. Luckily, he had been the one to open the door instead of his father whom you didn’t personally mind, but felt as though he may have disliked you.

It had been early before school one morning, when you had knocked on his door. He was barely awake, the sweatpants and loose t-shirt he had worn for his pajamas still clung to his body. He hadn’t expected to be opening the door to someone from school, let alone you, awake and bright eyed. On a normal day, your chirpiness would have bothered him to no end, but today was different. He hadn’t seen you since your mom’s funeral, and he found that he had wounded up missing your ever-present annoyance. He didn’t know how reassuring that lovesick, “Hi, Chenle,” could be. He couldn’t understand how, in your absence, he found his eyes straying to your empty seat, or when he sat at his desk which lay in front of his window, his eyes would wander to where he knew your bedroom window sat. He had realized, in the few weeks that you were off, that your presence was more comforting that your absence.

His dad hadn’t wanted to go the funeral. Apparently, he didn’t see the point. It was his mother who had pushed them to go, saying how bad they would have looked if they didn’t show their faces. His dad had argued that he didn’t care how he looked to a poor dreamer and the ‘crazies he calls family.’ The only reason they ended up going was because his mom had said she was going with or without him and apparently that would look bad to everyone else in the neighborhood. Chenle didn’t see the harm; sure he didn’t like you, but you were always nice to him and it was only respectful.

“Uh- Hi, (Y/N).” He said, eyes wandering down your body to where you clutched the sheet music and back up to your face. Your heart had flipped, a sensation you were now old friends with and usually attributed to Chenle’s warm brown eyes which traversed your face, his morning voice only making him more attractive. Little did you know, Chenle’s biggest concern at this moment was less checking you out and more checking if you were okay, and judging by the tired bags under your eyes despite your outwardly cheery appearance, you didn’t look okay.

“Hi, Chenle.” For once, those two words didn’t make him want to rip his own hair out.

“Uh, these are my mom’s. My dad wanted to give them to charity but, I don’t know, I thought they’d be better with someone I know... and well, you’re kind of the only musician I know.” His eyes flickered down to the sheet music you clutched in your arms.

“Oh- Thanks?” The music stand looked to Chenle to be at least 30 years old and the yellowing sheet music did not look too enticing, but he reached out his arms for them anyways.

“She wrote the music herself. You don’t have to play it but, I don’t know, I just really didn’t want to see it end up in the back of some charity shop. At least I know, with your talent, it’s in good hands.”

“Oh, well thanks.” You sent him an awkward closed mouth smile before turning on your heel but before you could make the short walk across the road, he called out to you.

“Wait-”

You spun around again.

“Yeah?”

He had stood up from where he had previously been leaning against the door frame, his brow now furrowed.

“Are you- are you coming back to school anytime soon?” He almost cringed as he uttered the words. He always felt bad being nice to you, it felt as if he was giving you false hope. However, for the first time, it came naturally to him as opposed to the fake smile he would give you.

“I’m allowed off until January but I’m coming back next week. It’s just so... quiet at my house. I’m kind of sick of it at this point.” His eyes scanned your face again, in the way that felt as though he could stare into your very soul if he looked hard enough.

“Well, I hope you’re okay.” The sincerity in his voice echoed the sympathetic look on his face.

“Thanks. I’ll see you next week, I guess.”

“See you at school.” He closed the door and looked at the music stand he had left leaning against the wall, which, unfortunately, became the topic of discussion that night at the dinner table.

“I think it was very nice of her to give you that stuff, Chenle.” His Mom had said, the clinking sounds of cutlery against plates underlying the conversation.

“I’m not using them,” He replied simply, as he moved the vegetables his mom had forcibly placed on his plate around with his fork.

“Oh, don’t be a dick, Chenle.” His sister nudged him, ignoring their parent shouts of, ‘language!’

“I’m not being a dick, they’re about 30 years old and I’m a piano player, I don’t use a music stand anyways.” He placed his fork down.

“Well, they’re not lying here and collecting dust. I’m honestly annoyed. Just because their house is all cluttered doesn’t mean our house has to be. You can go back and tell her you don’t want them.” His dad interjected, in that authoritarian manner he so loved.

“Dad, I can’t do that.”

“Eat your vegetables, Chenle.” His mom said, taking a sip from her way-too-expensive crystal wine glass. He rolled his eyes and picked up his fork again, purposely taking a bite out of the broccoli which adorned his plate.

“Why not? Are you scared of her?” His dad challenged, and Chenle couldn’t help but notice the broccoli which remained on his plate. Why did Chenle have to eat it but his dad didn’t?

“I’m not scared of her, it’s just- Her mom just died. I don’t want to be mean.” His fork stopped moving as his Father scoffed.

“Man up. You aren’t being rude, you’re being honest.”

“Chenle, vegetables.”

He groaned, shoveling as much of the vegetables into his mouth as he possibly could in one go before sinking down in his chair. He didn’t have a clue what to do. On one hand, the music equipment was of no use to him, so realistically, it would make the most sense to give them back. But on the other hand, if he gave them back they would just end up with charity and while Chenle didn’t necessarily like the girl, he didn’t think he could be that insensitive. Which was why he had deemed it an amazing idea to ask the paragon of good advice, his best friend, Park Jisung, at school the next day.

“Dude, just give it away yourself.” Jisung had answered assertively, from where he had perched himself atop his desk during their break, opening the cupcake that Chenle had given him. It had originally been a gift from Chaeryong who had long since forgiven him since the Freshmen incident, and every now and then when she got bored, would return to her phase of crushing on him.

“What do you mean?” Chenle asked, ignoring the way he could most definitely see Chaeryong staring at him from behind Jisung’s head, taking a sip of the strawberry milk he had bought from the school vending machine. Jisung rolled his eyes.

“I mean, if you give it away to some thrift shop first, she’ll never know, and you can tell your family that you told her. Boom, both people are happy.” Chenle chewed at the straw of his milk carton. He wasn’t necessarily wrong; in giving the stuff away himself, no one got hurt and he wouldn’t get called a coward by his family.

“Jisung, you’re a genius. Come with me after school? We’ll drop by my house and I’ll drive us into town.” Jisung nodded, cringing as he picked the love heart candy off the cupcake.

Unfortunately for Chenle, he hadn’t seemed to realize that, sat with her back to him was Ryujin, who had overheard the whole conversation, mostly because Chaeryong had insisted they eavesdropped on them to see if they talked about her. Ryujin had let Chenle away with a lot over the years; he had ignored you, laughed at you with his friends, talked about you behind his back and while she would discuss how much of a prick she thought he was with you, you never believed her, or blamed yourself, or make excuses for him. Which was why she deemed it a necessary evil to send you a text saying, ‘Want to go thrift shopping after school? I’ll buy you coffee?’

She knew you would never turn down free coffee. And it actually had turned out you had multiple boxes to donate anyways, although shopping with Ryujin was always an experience. You liked clothes shopping as much as anyone, but Ryujin was crazy. She could take 3 hours to go through one tiny shop.

“Ryujin? Are you done yet?” You had whined, the cardboard coffee cup in your hand had been emptied at least half an hour ago, and you had finished looking for clothes an hour ago. She was especially taking her time today, deliberating every item of clothing she saw and the dark lighting was starting to hurt your eyes, the musky smell of cedar wood and laundry detergent was inviting at first, but now made you feel woozy.

“My feet hurt.” You complained again, only pouting at the joke glare she shot your way. The bell which jingled every time someone entered the shop that you had learned to zone out the past two hours rang again, but this time, Ryujin’s eyes flickered up and rested on the person standing at the door. You furrowed your brow and spun to see who she was staring at, and there stood Chenle and Jisung, both looking positively ill.

“Oh- Hi, Chenle!” You waved, a small smile gracing your face. You cocked your head slightly to look at the two boys who had lost all color to their faces. Chenle still looked as good as ever, and the smell of his citrusy shampoo paired with his expensive smelling cologne cut through the woody scent of the shop, his chestnut brown eyes which lay beneath his messy mop of dark hair bringing butterflies to your stomach the way they always did.

“What’s wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a-,” you didn’t get to finish your sentence as your eyes had fallen down to where he clutched the oh so familiar sheet music and music stand. Your smile dropped, the butterflies in your stomach mutating into lead.

“What are you doing with those?” You asked, quietly, ignoring the way Jisung almost ran back out of the shop.

“I- uh- well...” He looked down, staring guiltily at his hands and the rusty music stand he clutched.

“If you didn’t want them you could have said, you know. You didn’t have to go behind my back to give them away.” You snapped, and for the first time in your whole life, looking at Chenle made your heart sink instead of flip.

“It wasn’t me! My dad said that he didn’t-” He stopped, as if he had caught himself.

“Didn’t what?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. He sighed, and glance to the side, almost as though he was refusing to meet your eyes.

“He said he didn’t understand why our house had to be cluttered just because you only started cleaning up your house and yard now.” He mumbled, and your eyes widened, and you put out an arm to stop Ryujin, who you could sense was about to jump on the boy.

“I didn’t think a bunch of sheet music was going to destroy your house that much.” You replied, letting out a huff and gulping away the lump in your throat, refusing to cry in front of him.

“I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” He mumbled, staring at his hands in shame. He had never wished that the ground would swallow him whole more in his entire life.

“You should have told me. Give them to the shop, honestly. I don’t care anymore.” You pushed past him, resisting the urge to throw the empty cardboard coffee cup at him.

“(Y/N)!” He called after you and you turned again, blinking back the tears which were gathering in your eyes, the constant chanting of, ‘don’t cry,’ becoming a sustained pedal in your head and realistically being the only thing stopping the tears from spilling.

“What?”

“I- I’m sorry.” His chestnut eyes you loved so much stared at you in that sincere way that felt as though he could stare into your soul if he tried hard enough, but for once, you could see a corruption in the honesty, a sort of rotten core to what you had previously thought was a pure center.

“No, you’re not.” You mumbled, before spinning back round and dragging Ryujin out by the wrist who had to drop the clothes she had clutched previously in a pile next to the door, having been given no opportunity to replace them tidily.

At first you had thought you were upset, the burning sensation in your chest was mistaken for sadness, but when you brought your hand up to your eyes to wipe away the tears which now fell, the downtrodden feeling switched into anger very quickly. Not only did Chenle lie and act as if he had cared about you and your family, but he had the audacity to talk about you all as if you were a group of hoarders who couldn’t keep your yard presentable.

You slammed your car door shut - while you had previously loved your run-down little jeep, you supposed perhaps the Zhong family liked to comment on that too - ignoring the comforting words Ryujin was uttering as she climbed into the passenger seat.

“Are you busy on Saturday?” You asked as you gripped the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white, turning the key in the ignition.

“Uh- I don’t think so. Why?” Ryujin replied, eyeing you warily.

“How do you feel about gardening?”

It didn’t take long for Chenle to realize he had traded in his old problems with (Y/N) (Y/L/N) for a whole set of new ones. You had returned to school the next week, and the way you constantly avoided him was simply a reminder of how much of a jerk he had been. Not to mention when he woke up on Saturday morning to discover you and Ryujin in your garden pulling up weeds, the guilt panging in his chest as he watched you toil away.

Then one day a week later or so, he was walking back from playing basketball from Jisung when things got weird.

His grandfather stood in your front yard, a pair of sheers in hand as he clipped at the hedges which had grown over your windows, conversing quietly with you as you worked.

He had only ever seen his grandfather in slippers - where the hell had those work boots come from? He didn’t even know his grandfather knew how to use sheers let alone would willingly help a random girl from across the street. The more he watched from his bedroom window, the madder he got. His grandfather had said more to you in the last hour than he had the whole time he had lived with them. Chenle wasn’t even sure if he had ever seen his grandfather laugh before, but there he was, laughing at something you said.

You had been struggling with hacking away the hedge when his grandfather had approached you. Ryujin had abandoned helping you a while ago, but you still appreciated the help she had given you originally. You knew gardening wasn’t necessarily her thing. You wanted to think that the reason you had decided to fix up your yard was not because of what Zhong Chenle thought of you, but to make your house better in this new pre-mom times, as your brothers had begun calling them. After what he had done with your mom’s sheet music, why were you meant to care about anything he thought? But sadly, you knew deep down you did.

“Are you pruning that Hedge or hacking it to death?” You heard someone call out, and you swung around to see a man whom you couldn’t help but recognize as being related to Chenle. They had the same smile.

You laughed awkwardly, clutching the sheers a little tighter.

“I’m Chenle’s grandfather. Sorry it’s taken me so long to come over and introduce myself.” He smiled again and outstretched a hand which you then shook.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Are you planning on cutting these all to the same height?” He gestured towards the hedges. You breathed in, looking at the hedges which you had previously been ruining.

“That was the plan, but I might have to take them out. I’m not very good at this, if you can’t tell.” You joked.

“Oh, these are Hicksii shrubs. They should prune up nicely.” He replied, pulling out a pair of gloves he had appeared to have brought with him, and reached out for the sheers you had been holding.

You eyed him wearily, as he cut at the hedge. “Listen, Mr. Zhong, if you’re here because of what Chenle said, I don’t need your help.”

He leaned back and looked at you sincerely.

“I don’t know what my little shit of a grandson said to you, but I’m just here because of the crime you were committing on these shrubs.”

The previous reluctance you had felt was immediately relieved as you let out a sincere laugh, not expecting his crude language.

You both worked together on the yard for weeks, and the whole time you worked, you talked. Mr. Zhong was incredibly kind, and it was honestly nice to know that there was someone in that house who wasn’t watching and waiting for your families next screw up. He told you how you had the same spirit as his wife who died a while ago; apparently you both had the same strong will. Although the conversation that stuck with you the most was a few days into working together and he had tentatively asked you about what was happened with you and Chenle. You had explained the situation while you painted the wood you had bought together to make a fence.

“Well, do you like Chenle?” He had asked, and your face warmed, your hand which held the paint brush stilling.

“I don’t know... It’s something about his eyes, I guess.” You looked down, embarrassed. It felt really weird discussing this with his grandfather.

“But what about him?” Mr. Zhong had asked, his hand still as well.

“What do you mean?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing as you turned your head.

“Well - I mean think of it like this. Your father’s a painter, isn’t he? Well, a painting is more than the sum of its parts. You have to look at the whole landscape. A cow by itself is just a cow, a tree is just a tree, a beam of light is just sunshine, but when you put it all together - it can be something magical. Do you think Chenle’s more than the sum of his parts?” If he had asked you a month ago you would have said absolutely. Chenle was entirely more than the sum of his parts, in every conceivable way. But now you weren’t so sure.

“I- I don’t know.”

Meanwhile, Chenle was still struggling to apologize to you. He had spent all week trying to approach you at school, but when it came to holding a grudge, you were truly impressive. You always found a way to duck him, either turning in the hallway to walk the other way or having Ryujin exit through doors first when he tried to block them to confront you. And every time you were out in your yard, his grandpa was always there. It wasn’t until one day, on a cold Saturday morning towards the end of October, when his grandpa had gone into town to buy cream for his hands because all the yard work was starting to get to him, that he found his opening.

“It looks really good.” He commented, grabbing your attention from where you were watering the grass with a hose. You looked up at the boy whom you had dedicated your life to, who stood awkwardly behind the fence you had put up with his grandfather. You wished you could say he looked bad, but in a flannel shirt, black t-shirt and jeans he had never looked better.

“Thanks.” You said quietly, turning your back to him to continue your work.

“I- I’m sorry for what I did.” He piped up and you sighed before switching off the hose and turning towards him again.

“I don’t get it, Chenle. You could have just told me you didn’t need them. You didn’t have to give them away behind my back.” You looked at him, and for once, you were the one looking into his soul, not the other way around. You looked into those eyes, those dazzling brown eyes which bore into you that belonged to the boy walking around with your first kiss and you thought that perhaps his Grandpa was right. Maybe Chenle wasn’t more than the sum of his parts.

“I don’t know - It was dumb. I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I shouldn’t have said anything about your yard either. It wasn’t right.” You let your eyes rest on his face again. You were sure - Chenle was definitely less than the sum of his parts. You shrugged.

“Maybe it was for the best.” You turned back towards the grass, turning the hose on again as if to signal, this was the end of the conversation.

“I- I guess I’ll see you around.” He said, hesitantly. You didn’t even turn to look at him this time.

“I guess.”

He spun to make the short trek back to his house, but not without turning back to look at you one last time before opening the bright red door of his house. Your acceptance of his apology was not all he had hoped for, but at least now he could watch TV with his family with a guilt free conscious. although the atmosphere between his grandpa and dad was nearly palpable, especially when his grandfather reached for the cream on the table beside them to rub into his hands.

“That girl working you too hard?” His dad slyly commented, ignoring the foul look his grandfather sent him in response as he rubbed cream into his hands.

“’That girl’s’ name is (Y/N). And no, she isn’t working me too hard.”

Chenle’s dad widened his eyes slightly, staring down into the brandy which he swirled in the glass he held.

“Do you not think it’s a bit, I don’t know, weird, that you have the time and energy to spend time with the girl next door but not with your own grandson?” He replied snippily, ignoring the way his mom interjected.

“-It’s okay, Dad-” Chenle began, but couldn’t finish as his father cut him off with a sharp, “No, it’s not.”

“Do you know why the (Y/L/N)’s hadn’t fixed up their yard until now?” His grandfather asked, more rhetorically than anything.

“Yeah. Because he’s too busy with his paint-by-numbers kit.” His dad answered, chortling to himself at his own joke, taking another sip of the brandy he was drinking.

“The illness Mrs. (Y/L/N) had was incredibly hard to treat, not to mention emotionally draining. Every penny they had went into hospital bills treating her, and even then, she had been in a coma for 8 years, and then unresponsive for another 5.” Chenle stared down at his hands, trying his best to zone out the argument, especially considering he had been the asshole who tried to give away this poor woman’s music.

“I don’t see what their vegetative mother has to do with their pride in ownership. Realistically, if she had looked after herself more, maybe they wouldn’t have been in this mess.” His dad had answered, once again laughing at his own joke.

“They don’t own that house, they rent it. It’s supposed to be the responsibility of the landlord, and it was nothing to do with how healthy that poor woman was, (Y/N)’s Mom had a blood condition that made her susceptible to strokes, and that’s what made her so ill.” Chenle’s mom sighed from where she sat next to him on the blue couch, before his father had the opportunity to reply and dig himself into a deeper hole.

“That poor family. We should have them over for dinner.” She announced, standing up, grabbing the still full glass from her husband’s hand as she moved into the kitchen.

“We are not having them over for dinner!” His father shouted from the living room.

“We should have them over for a sit down fancy dinner.” She replied, almost deliberately ignoring him.

“We are not - Hey!” He called out as he heard the buttons on the landline beep with each number his mother punched in.

“I’m sorry, I can’t here you over me inviting them over for- Oh hello, (Y/N), dear.” At the sound of your name, Chenle sank farther into the plush couch seats. He just wanted to watch television in peace.

“Shoot me now.” His dad mumbled.

“Careful what you wish for.” His Grandfather replied, not tearing his eyes from the tv and this time he was the one to ignore the evil look which was shot his way.

And so, dinner with the (Y/L/N)’s was in his imminent future, which only made things more uncomfortable at school. Much like when you had taken that month off in school, he found himself focused on the idea of you more than he had previously. He couldn’t get you out of his head, you and your poor mom. He thought he would apologize for the music thing, you would begrudgingly accept his apology, and you could live the rest of the senior year blissfully ignoring each other’s existents. While you had apparently stayed true to the plan, he couldn’t help the way his eyes drifted to find you in class. He had spent 10 years in the same class as you but he had never noticed how you automatically pulled your bottom lip into your mouth when you were focused on something or the way you smiled to stop yourself laughing when Ryujin mumbled some sort of snarky comment. In the same bout of insanity he had experienced at the beginning of the year, he may have mistaken your smile as being pretty. Except this time the insanity did not melt away into resentment, but instead grew into a roaring monster of butterflies anytime he saw you.

He was starting to think he was sick or something. It was like his whole life had been flipped upside down; in what universe was he the one with the clammy hands and racing heart around (Y/N) (/L/N), and she was the one ignoring him? He needed to talk to someone - and who better than the lord of advice himself, Park Jisung.

Luckily for him, him and Jisung were the first people in their home room class the day of the dinner; usually you were in early, but today you conveniently hadn’t been. “Dude, I need your help.” Chenle emphatically exclaimed, sitting down in his seat next to Jisung before explaining the situation.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)? You hate her. You’ve hated her for 10 years.” Jisung blankly stated, and Chenle shook his head.

“That’s the thing, I don’t think I do. I can’t stop thinking about her.” Jisung rolled his eyes.

“You definitely hate her. Think about it, you just feel bad because of the mom thing. And you insulted her house, but I mean come on, it was a mess anyways.”

“It’s not her fault. Their family is in crazy amounts of debt because her mom had some sort of untreatable illness and she was sick for so long. Do you know apparently, she had been sick for like 13 years? It must have been torture on their family.” Chenle defended, the stubborn side of him which was declaring, it’s been a decade, why stop hating you now, losing out to this new need to defend you.

“Oh, God, really? Well then, there’s your answer.” Jisung replied, leaning back in his chair with confidence, as though he had just solved the world’s problems. Chenle’s eyebrows knotted together, cocking his head.

“What do you mean?”

Jisung scoffed, as if it was the most obvious thing since the last advice he had kindly bestowed on Chenle.

“You don’t want to be with someone with that in their family. Dude what if she infects you with it?”

Chenle wanted to hit him. He was certain, he had never before in his life been closer to punching someone and God did Jisung deserve it. How dare he say that? He wanted to tell him that it was much more complex than Jisung’s derogatory simplification of your mother’s illness, and just because Jisung was failing biology did not mean he had the right to be going around and saying things like that about you. He wanted to tell Jisung to keep his stupid opinion to himself, but despite this intense fury he felt searing up his chest, all he could manage was a stiff laugh.

“Oh. Yeah.” He mumbled, not looking at him in case the smug smile which had graced Jisung’s face flipped the switch which would erupt the burning anger in his chest.

You had been running late that day. You liked getting up earlier and beating the traffic to school, now more than ever, with the sullen mood your house had fallen into, although with the dinner with the Zhong family in your near future, the three boys of your house appeared cheerier. Your father was good friends with Mrs. Zhong and she had always been a good neighbor, and your two brothers were old friends with Chenle’s older sister. You were only one against the idea, but realistically, what harm could one dinner do? You had woken up and been ready on time, but when you climbed into your sturdy little jeep and turned the ignition keys, the engine made an unfortunate spluttering sound, that rather sounded like it was simply giving up.

You had taken a stab at fixing it, popping the hood and pretending as though you had a single clue about what to look for, but upon realizing there was no hope you started glancing worriedly back at your house. Surely one of the three people who all knew all to drive would know something about what was wrong with the engine. Biggest problem was, they were all asleep, and if you woke them up, you might have lost a hand. You were heavily considering risking the hand when, by some sort of divine intervention, a familiar voice called out to you.

“Need help?”

You started, spinning to see Mr. Zhong, the familiar and kind old face smiling at you. You hated how similar his smile was to Chenle’s; he was simply a reminder of who you thought Chenle used to be. Nonetheless, you smiled and nodded, gesturing to the hood and taking a step back.

“Please. It’s all yours.”

He worked in silence for a moment, pulling at the machinery inside the bonnet.

“How old is this car?” He asked, and his muffled voice could not disguise the astonishment in his voice.

“Uh, I think the last person to drive it was my Mom, so, that should tell you.” You half joked, awkwardly watching him work until he indicated to you to try again.

You climbed into the car and turned the ignition, and it spluttered again, but this time the spluttering graduated into the unhealthy purring sound you were used to.

You rolled your window down, and called a gracious, ‘thank you!’ out the window, but before you could proceed the short drive to school, the man stopped you, leaning against the side of your car.

“Wait a minute, I want to talk to you about something.” You uncomfortably clutched the steering wheel tighter, raising an eyebrow at him, as if to say, ‘go on.’

“You and Chenle? How’s that going?” He asked, an eyebrow raised in a similar fashion, although his was more teasing where yours was questioning. Your heart leapt as your face warmed.

“Oh - uh. I haven’t really spoken to him since.”

“Oh.” He sounded surprised.

“Why?” You asked, trying to discreetly gulp away your nervousness.

“Oh, he’s just been speaking about you a lot more, is all. Have fun at school.”

Your five-minute drive to school was the most anxiety ridden drive you had ever experienced. What did he mean speaking about you more? He was asking about your relationship so would that suggest Chenle was saying nice things? Did Chenle maybe like you? Of course, the idea of Chenle having any sort of romantic feelings towards you felt nearly laughable at this point, but this glimmer of hope that had remained from the past ten years that maybe, just maybe, you had finally grabbed the attention of those sweet brown eyes simmered in your chest before you could push it away. He had treated you badly, you reminded yourself. You didn’t need him.

You stormed into school that morning, affirming that you did not need Zhong Chenle in your life, and if he did finally notice you, that was not your problem. But the little girl in you who had walked up to the door of your classroom to overhear Chenle say your name insisted on eavesdropping. And who were you to say no to her?

“... That’s the thing, I don’t think I do. I can’t stop thinking about her.” You couldn’t stop instinctual fluttering of your heart. Chenle couldn’t stop thinking about you. Chenle couldn’t stop thinking about you. Your previous conclusion that he was not more than the sum of his parts was thrown out of the window and replaced with schoolgirl butterflies.

“You definitely hate her. Think about it, you just feel bad because of the mom thing. And you insulted her house, but I mean come on, it was a mess anyways.” You rolled your eyes. Park Jisung was a self-righteous dick.

“It’s not her fault. Their family is in crazy amounts of debt because her mom had some sort of untreatable illness and she was sick for so long. Do you know apparently she had been sick for like 13 years? It must have been torture on their family.” You had never heard him defend you before, and you couldn’t help the small smile which grew on your face.

“Oh, God, really? Well then, there’s your answer.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t want to be with someone with that in their family. Dude what if she infects you with it?” Your previously elated heart dropped to your stomach as your face fell. Chenle wasn’t going to let him away with that, was he?

“Oh. Yeah.” He was. Zhong Chenle had the perfect knack of getting your hopes up, and just when your heart had warmed to him again, crushing it, and you were sick of it. You spun on your heel, making your way back out to your car without even thinking about it. You didn’t want to have to look at him.

You thought about the situation as you got ready for dinner that night. You were sick of this stupid game of cat and mouse, where you inevitably always ended up hurt. And thinking back on the past ten years, Chenle had never been a good friend to you. Ever. He gave away your sheet music, he insulted you and now he was talking about you with his friends as if you were some sort of plague just waiting to infect him. You were sick of it and you were sick of him. Zhong Chenle meant nothing to you anymore.

You had half an idea to march out into the hallway where your father was calling you and tell him that you did not want to go, and he couldn’t make you. You drew together pieces of this declaration in your head before firmly making your way into the hall, entirely ready to tell him where the Zhong family could go, but then you saw his face. He had shaved for the first time in a month, the clothes he wore was ironed and smart, and you could have sworn he smelled better than he had in a while. Your previously parted lips closed again and instead of communicating your desire to be anywhere but the Zhong house, the corners turned slightly, mustering up the most sincere smile you could. You could suck up having to sit opposite Chenle for your family - They had gone through so much recently, you thought maybe you could deal with him for another night.

Your plans to snub him was momentarily interrupted when you realized, as he stomped down the stairs into the entry way of the house, where your family awkwardly hovered, exchanging greetings with the Zhong family, he had worn your favorite jean jacket, white t-shirt and black jeans combo that used to make you melt at the knees. Like always, it made his dark hair seem darker, but you pushed back the bubbling butterflies. What he had done was unforgiveable.

“Why don’t I show you guys my room?” His sister had emphatically exclaimed to your brothers who glanced to your dad. He gave a disinterested shrug, and the three stomped up past where Chenle came from. “Chenle, sweetie, why don’t you bring (Y/N) up to your room? The adults can talk down here.” His mom suggested.

“No, Mrs. Zhong, it’s okay-” You began, but you didn’t get to finish.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, I know you won’t want to be stuck with the adults. Just no funny business!” You ignored the sly comment which Chenle’s dad mumbled under his breath about, ‘that being unlikely,’ and hesitantly made your way up the stairs, following in Chenle’s footsteps. His house was the exact same as yours - sure his stairs didn’t creak from years of you and your brothers abuse , and it was much sleeker - the black and white modern décor juxtaposed greatly with the warm, yellow tones of your own house, plus the fact they obvious could afford to have their carpet replaced with hardwood floors, but other than that, there was nothing spectacularly upper class about their house that would suggest they had any right to look down on yours.

His room matched his personality to a tee. With grey-white walls plastered with posters of his favorite musicians and athletes whom you didn’t recognize, the room was small but clean and smelt like him. That familiar citrusy scent you associated with him filled the air, and past you would have been intoxicated by him, but current you knew better.

He sat down on top of the checked black and white duvet cover, (little did you know, he was secretly celebrating the fact he had happened to change the Stephen Curry bed sheets the day before) and gestured for you to sit down beside him. You remained standing.

“Uh- Hi.” He greeted, a softness to his voice you didn’t recognize but nearly succeeded in melting the barricade you had placed around your heart. Nearly. You didn’t respond, staring down at your shoes as if, suddenly your vans were the most interesting thing in the world.

“You look really pretty.” There he was again, trying to get your hopes up only to smash them again. You wouldn’t let him. Not this time.

“I know what you and Jisung were saying about my mom. And I’m done with you, okay? You can stop this act now.” You blurted out before you could even stop yourself.

Chenle’s face fell, and his head jerked to the side, almost as if you had genuinely slapped him in the face. He looked like a wounded puppy. Why was it so hard to stay angry at him?

“I- Look, (Y/N), it was wrong what Jisung said, I know. I wanted to hit him.” You raised an eyebrow, which sharpened your features and nearly made Chenle melt, both from the radiating heat of your anger and the sheer attractiveness of the action.

“You didn’t say anything to him. You just agreed and laughed. Like a coward.” You replied, simply.

“Yeah - I know. It was wrong of me. I’m sorry, but look, I’ve had a recent... self-discovery and I like you, (Y/N). If you could just give me a second chance.” He pleaded, standing up to look at you sincerely. His honest, chestnut eyes did not hold the same rotten core you had seen in them a month ago in the charity shop, but you held your ground nonetheless. “Third chance, you mean. Realistically, you don’t know me, and I don’t know you. We’ve lived next to each other for 10 years and we’ve had, what, two civil conversations?” Chenle was the one to look down at his feet now, focusing on the hardwood floors. You weren’t wrong - you didn’t really know each other. You relished in the silence as Chenle thought for a moment, before he mumbled,

“That doesn’t change how I feel about you, though.”

“Well it should.”

He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by his mother’s screaming for them to come to dinner. You had turned and left before he even had the opportunity to draw breath and he was left alone in his empty room, which grey walls that had previously been illuminated with the presence of you had dulled in the absence of your vivacity.

Dinner was a success for the most part, except for the torture of sitting across from you. He bore holes into the side of your head, but you were so skilled in acting as if he wasn’t there, he was starting to question his actual presence at the dinner table; if it were just you and him sitting there, he would have been convinced he was some sort of ghostly apparition.

“So, you paint, right?” His grandfather had directed toward your dad who nodded politely.

“Yeah, I always loved art and - well I couldn’t afford to go to college so I thought why not kill two birds with one stone and do something I love that I don’t need a college education for.” He replied, the bright look on his face when talking about something he loved was so similar to how you used to look at him that Chenle almost felt sick with guilt.

“And you make much money off of that?” His dad had commented, his knife and fork obnoxiously clinking against the plate. Chenle almost sunk down in his chair.

“I make enough.” Your dad replied, stiffly. He spoke how you spoke to him a mere 15 minutes ago.

“Didn’t you used to like art?” His grandfather had asked, turning to his Dad who shrugged, sipping from his expensive wine glass.

“I painted a little.” Chenle had never seen his dad so uncomfortable.

“No, I remember, you wanted to go to art school, right? But my daughter here talked you out of it.” His dad squirmed in his seat as his mother awkwardly laughed, avoiding the topic entirely and asking your dad another question about his job.

The more your dad discussed his ventures into the world of art, the quieter his dad got. He tried to plaster on a smile every now and then, but underneath, Chenle could tell he was sad. He thought about how his dad had always looked down on your family, and the countless times he had referred to your dad as being ridiculous, a low-life who needed to get a ‘proper job.’ He watched the man who had dwindled his life away and wondered, if he was simply angry at himself, as opposed to the kind family across the street. His father was a coward who didn’t chase what he wanted because he was too scared. Chenle swore to himself there and then, that he would not be a coward, like his father. He refused to become the bitter, jealous old man across the street. And so, late that night, after you had all left, he rifled through the papers on his desk and hatched a plan.

Patience and timing were key elements to Chenle’s plan - A month, to be precise. The day of the Christmas talent show. Everyone was excited to watch Chenle perform, especially now that it had been spread that he was dedicating his performance to someone in the audience. Pretty much everyone in the school who was attracted to boys were praying it was them. All except for you, who still hadn’t spoken to him since that fateful night in his bedroom and had resumed your strategic avoidance of him.

He nervously peaked from the side of the stage of the school theatre which had been transformed from it’s boring wood and red velvet into an explosion of tinsel and fairy lights, the excessive Christmas décor almost hurt his eyes. He stared into the audience past Chaeryong’s skillful dancing on stage, despite her optimistic glances towards him, as he clutched sheet music in his hands. He had enlisted Ryujin’s help to ensure that you were sitting in the very middle of the front row, despite her unwillingness. He had to promise her that if he broke your heart again, she had a free pass at kicking him in a very private place. His attention was only broken from the way you hid a laugh as Ryujin whispered into your ear, by Jisung frantically running up to him, whispering as to not to disturb Chaeryong’s performance.

“Dude! There’s a rumor going around that this mystery chick you’re playing for is (Y/N)?” Chenle simply blinked at him.

“And?”

“Is it true?”

“Yep.” Jisung threw his arms in the air incredulously, whispering as loud as their setting allowed him,

“What the hell is the matter with you! You have every single girl on campus wanting you and you want (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Chenle spun to stare out into the audience again, turning his back to Jisung. “Leave me alone, Jisung. You wouldn’t understand.” He whispered back, watching and clapping as Chaeryong took her bow, exiting at the other side of the stage.

“You’re right! I completely don’t understand! Have you flipped or something?” Chenle ignored him, breathing out slowly, trying to calm his nerves.

“This is it.” He mumbled, more to himself than Jisung, ignoring his friend who made a last minute attempt to grab him before he walked on stage.

The entire audience sat with bated breath, you included as he sat down at the piano, almost excruciatingly slowly. You stared at your hands, trying not to look up at the stage because you knew that he was probably about to sing some love song to Chaeryong, since his feelings for you had obviously dissipated since that night, and then they would kiss on stage and everyone would be happy for them. You included. Probably. If you were feeling in a particularly positive mood.

“Um, so I’m sure you all know, that I’m dedicating this performance to someone. Which I am, but I’m not going to say who. Yet. They’ll know who they are.” His smooth voice echoed throughout the entire auditorium, officially piquing your interest as you lifted your head up to look at him. He had already moved to face the piano, his fingers - which were unusually shaking - hovered over the keys as he examined the sheet music in front of him, pressing down the first chord.

Your stomach dropped, the familiarity of the scalic motif he played with his right hand causing you to audibly gasp. You hadn’t heard this piece since you were four. You raised a shaking hand to your mouth, ignoring the way Ryujin was almost definitely staring at you with concern. He had kept the sheet music. You had thought all the time, it was in the back of some shop, never to be played again. But here he was, playing your mother’s music in front of the entire school with pride, his skilful fingers dancing from note to note as if it were as simple as breathing, the music enveloping you in a blanket of comfort.

His playing ended too quickly, finishing with a short section you didn’t recognize and ending on a perfect and harmonious cadence. The audience tentatively applauded, the majority - as in everyone but you and Ryujin - more confused than anything, until he walked to the end of the stage, directly in front of you.

“My favorite color is red.” He stated, looking down at you in your chair.

“Wha - What?”

“I am the worst loser ever. Seriously, if you play a game with me and you win, I will find ways to blame you for making me lose.”

“Chenle, wha-” “You said you didn’t know me, right? I’m terrified of spiders. I love basketball more than football but I’m better at football. You couldn’t pay me to take science the second it isn’t mandatory anymore. I talk in my sleep. I’m crazy ticklish. I would literally die for Stephen Curry. I’ve been an idiotic dick, for lack of a better word, for the last ten years, and if you let me, I would love the chance to get to know you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face as you stared into those eyes - those once again dazzling eyes which bore into you, no evidence of corruption, the oh-so-familiar sensation of your heart warming to his words blooming in you once again, as if it had never left.

Your smile resonated within him and he questioned what the hell had he been doing the last ten years. How could anyone, ever want to run away from you?

“If you break my heart, Zhong Chenle, you have Ryujin to answer too.”

He chuckled, the sound of his laugh more musical than anything he could’ve produced on stage, and as you watched him, you came to the conclusion that Chenle was more than the sum of his parts, astronomically. You knew that Zhong Chenle was still walking around with your first kiss. But he wouldn’t be for long.

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