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stranger-marauders · 1 year

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i could never let you go

two: dancing queen mamma mia! au

chapter summary: Lena finds quite a surprise while covering the check-in desk. After a drink with Robin and Nancy, you make a discovery you never wanted to make.

chapter warnings: language probably, use of y/n, single-mom struggles, mentions of cheating, mentions of previous pregnancy, absent father

word count: 5.2k

series masterlist | masterlist

Whenever she heard three men in the courtyard, Lena had immediately gone to go and investigate.

At the sight of the three men and their bags, she knew that they must have been looking for the check-in desk. With that, she immediately snapped herself into her customer service persona.

“Good afternoon,” she started. “Can I help you three out?”

When they turned around, her heart stopped. She could’ve recognized their faces any sooner.

“Sure, we’re here for the wedding.”

“I’m Jonathan Byers,” one of them said. “You have a room for me?”

Lena swallowed the lump in her throat, flustered. “Jonathan Byers?”

“I’m Munson. Eddie Munson.”

Lena, of course, quickly became even more flustered. “Eddie!” She looked over to the last man. “So you must be…”

“Steve Harrington, yeah,” he said.

Lena didn’t know what to think. Her three potential fathers were all standing right in front of her with no clue in the world of who she was.

The first man, Jonathan Byers, had shorter brown hair. While he was somewhat handsome, he certainly also looked professional. With the research she’d done on him, Lena had been able to determine that Jonathan was now a successful photographer who had taken jobs with all types of newspapers, magazines, and practically any company that needed a picture of some kind.

The second man, Eddie Munson, had been much easier to find on the internet. Eddie Munson, the lead guitarist of the band Corroded Coffin, which, as of last year, was Grammy award-winning, was very popular. Not only was he an amazing guitarist, as she’d seen via Twitter, but he had also been rumored to be in a relationship with their lead singer. He was an absolute heartbreaker, even after all these years, as he’d never been in a confirmed relationship. Nonetheless, in all of the pictures she’d found of him over the years, he somehow looked almost exactly the same, having the same long hair and leather jacket that he’d had before.

Steve, however, had been the most difficult to find anything about. While he wasn’t a famous photographer or an even more famous musician, he was, without question, a millionaire. His father and his father before him had owned a contracting company that had been passed down to him, also leaving him with the millions that it had generated over the years. She hadn’t been able to find a picture of him, so she hadn’t known what to imagine about him. Lena wasn’t quite expecting him to be so handsome with his medium-length hair and his dark brown eyes, his slightly tanned skin. He, just like the other two men, was attractive.

It seemed her mother had had a type in her youth: rich brunet boys.

“Were you, uh… expecting us?” Steve asked, seeming confused.

“Yes,” Lena said, trying to pull herself together. “Yes, of course!”

“You’re not Y/N’s daughter, are you?” he asked. “You look just like her.”

“I thought you looked familiar.”

“Darlene, is it, sweetheart?” Eddie suggested, almost like he’d heard of her before.

“Oh, everyone calls me Lena,” she said quickly. “I am named after a Darlene, though.”

“Lena’s pretty,” Jonathan said. “I had a great aunt Darlene who lived right off the mainland here.”

“Would you mind taking us to our rooms so we could freshen up, maybe?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Lena said. “Uh… right this way!”

Lena didn’t know what she was doing, exactly. She didn’t know how she was supposed to hide them in the hotel from you. Now that she was thinking about it, she definitely should have thought that out before she had invited the three of your former lovers to her wedding. For now, putting them in the old and abandoned barn on the property would be good enough. At least that way you’d be able to buy some time and get another room put together for them, hopefully one that your mother wouldn’t be able to find out about.

Whenever they reached the old structure, Lena opened the door for them. “All right, just in here.”

“Where’s your mom?” Steve asked, almost anxious. “I wanna see her. I wanna thank her for the invitation.”

“It’s very kind of her to remember us after all this time,” Jonathan said.

“Can I see my room now?”

“Don’t hold your breath, Eddie, but I think this is your room.”

“Can we see Y/N, please?”

Lena had very quickly found herself extremely overwhelmed. She now understood why her mother had always gotten onto her for asking a thousand questions at once whenever she was younger. It was too much to handle.

Because of her overstimulation, Lena spat out the first thing that came into her head. “I sent the invites. My mom doesn’t know anything.”

Immediately, all three men seemed alarmed.

“She’s done so much for me, and she’s always talking about you guys and the good old days, and I thought… I just thought it would be such an amazing surprise for her that you’re all gonna be at my wedding.”

“Hang on, Lena,” Steve said, putting his hand against his head like he was having a million thoughts at once. “I–I can’t be here, okay? The last time I saw your mother, she said she never wanted to see me again.”

“That was years ago!” Lena exclaimed. “Please stay. It would mean so much if you did.”

She didn’t want to think about the three of them leaving yet. Lena had just met them. She couldn’t tolerate her potential fathers leaving and then possibly never hearing from them again. Lena couldn’t do it.

“Listen, I can see that you’ve been through a great deal of trouble,” Jonathan said, trying to ease the tension. “Might I suggest that we all reconvene on the boat?”

“Good idea.”

“Nope,” Eddie said.

Both Steve and Jonathan looked at him like he was crazy.

“Why not?”

“It’s an adventure, Jonny boy! It’s good for you!”

“Ah.”

Lena sighed. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she had to think of something quick to get them to stay. That was when it hit her.

“Okay, when I sent the invites, it was a long shot that you’d even reply, and now you’ve come all this way for a wedding. Surely there must have been some special reason for you to be here.”

“You’re just like your mother,” Steve said, shaking his head. “I’m glad my boys haven’t met you. They’d never recover.”

“You have sons?” Lena asked. Could she have siblings?

“Yeah, two,” he replied, not thinking much of the question. “Someday, I’d like to bring them here.”

“Like you used to bring my mother?”

Steve sighed. “No, not like—”

“Wait, do you hear that?” Jonathan said, listening closely. “That sounds like her right outside.”

Whenever everyone stopped arguing and your faint hum could be heard from outside, they all three tried to leave the structure. Lena, of course, blocked the entrance.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Listen, listen, she can’t know. Okay? I’m going to go. Please stay.” She paused. “Promise me that you won't tell anybody that I invited you.” Whenever the three men didn’t answer her, she restated herself. “Okay? Promise?”

“You got it, sweetheart,” Eddie said, flashing a grin at her.

“It’s a promise.”

“Fine.”

Lena, for the first time since she’d met her three possible fathers, sighed with relief. “Okay.”

Whenever she left the barn, climbing out of a window in order to avoid being spotted by you, Lena knew it was only a matter of time before you found out that your former three lovers were on Pinestead Island.

For the past few hours, you had been running around the island to try and at least make the place look put together. Of course, that was after the hour that you’d wasted drinking wine coolers with Nancy and Robin in their room.

You didn’t know why they had talked you into drinking with them. Quite frankly, you didn’t know how they had either. You hadn’t intended on drinking during the day, maybe that night whenever the three of you were alone, but you now hated the decision you’d made. It was only supposed to be one drink. One drink, apparently, was all it took to feel the effects of alcohol anymore.

Getting older sucked.

Running around tipsily on Pinestead Island wasn’t something you ever would have thought you would do. Now, though, you felt even more emotional than you had earlier that day.

While you loved Leo and you knew that your daughter was in good hands, you felt like she was much too young to get married. You wished that she would’ve gotten to experience more of the world before she got settled down and married, especially to the first serious boyfriend that she’d ever had.

Lena had very quickly fallen for Leo when he’d come to Pinestead Island about three years ago. Even though he was a year older than her, it didn’t matter. They had very quickly fallen in love, ready to leave everything behind for one another.

You were glad that Lena had found someone to take care of her if something ever happened to you. That didn’t mean, however, that you were ready to see your baby get married. In your opinion, twenty was much too young to be a bride. Twenty-two had been much too young to become a mother on your own. You didn’t want Lena to have to grow up too quickly, similarly to what you had had to do.

That thought, however, came to an abrupt halt whenever she heard something come from the barn.

You immediately thought that was odd. There wasn’t supposed to be anything inside of that barn, nor had there been anything in the structure that was of value for a long time. You assumed something must have finally fallen over, or maybe an old shelf had finally rotted away and had given out with the weight of the objects resting on top of it. You also wouldn’t have put it past any of the kids that currently worked for you, however, to be inside of the barn smoking or drinking and trying to avoid doing any more work for the day.

With your mind running at a thousand miles an hour, you decided that you wouldn’t be able to focus until you checked the inside of the barn.

It couldn’t have been anything too bad, you thought. Whenever you walked inside the barn, however, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers, and Eddie Munson standing together in front of you.

Your head started to hurt: it had been nearly twenty-one years since the last time you’d seen any of them.

Truthfully, you hadn’t left things so terribly with Eddie. Even though you’d been a well-sought-after groupie, and that was the glorified version, that was all there truly was to that relationship. It was a short-lived fling, and both of you knew that. There weren’t any hard feelings or anything. You and Eddie were simply a one-night thing, and what a night it was. That didn’t exactly mean that you wanted him in your barn, though.

Jonathan wasn’t so bad, either. The only reason you had the hotel on the island was because of him and his great aunt, to be honest, and you never would’ve been happy again without him. If it wasn’t for him, your life would’ve been completely different, and while that reality might have been nice to dream about, you knew that that wasn’t what you wanted. Once again, that didn’t mean that you wanted him in that hotel or anywhere near the property.

Steve, however, was a different story. He had completely enamored you all those years ago. You had never felt anything quite like what you had during that month with him in the old house on the island, and you still didn’t think you would ever quite feel anything like that again. Steve Harrington had shown you the world and then had completely shattered it at your feet. You didn’t know if you would ever quite feel love like that again. That was why, out of the three men, you definitely didn’t want him anywhere near you, your property, and the entire island if you could help it.

The three men could only stare at you, and you back at them. All of them had aged somewhat well. While Eddie looked exactly the same, other than a few wrinkles here and there, Jonathan and Steve looked different. Jonathan looked much more put together than he did the last time you saw him, his hair much shorter and his skill less pale. Steve, however, almost looked like a different man entirely. While he, of course, still looked like himself, he still looked older. Steve, much to your dismay, was one of those guys that only got more attractive with age. While his hair wasn’t the same as it was the last time you saw him, it was still a medium length, still similar enough that he still resembled his younger self. All three of them looked good. Probably great compared to how you looked right now.

You didn’t need to look at yourself in a mirror to know that you looked terrible. Not only were you a bit tipsy, but you’d been working around the island and the hotel all day, meaning your hair was probably messy and you smelled gross. You weren’t even wearing a cute outfit. Besides, the last time they’d seen you, that was before you’d had Lena.

Lena.

The three of them couldn’t be on Pinestead. You didn’t know what you would do if they happened to run into your daughter and talked to her for just a few moments. Steve, Jonathan, and Eddie weren’t stupid. It wouldn’t take long for at least one of them to realize that Lena had to be one of theirs.

You didn’t want to think about all of the things that had happened with the three of those boys that were now men. Now, though, as you stood in front of them, almost as if you were frozen to stone, you didn’t quite know what to do.

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” you finally asked. “You’re not really here.”

“Would you like me to pinch you or something?” Steve asked.

“You keep your hands to yourself.”

“That’s not what you said last time.”

You didn’t quite know how to respond to him. The audacity he had to joke about their relationship after everything he’d done.

“What the hell are you doing here, Steve? Why are any of you here, actually?”

“I’m taking pictures for an article in a magazine,” Jonathan replied.

“And I’m here on a spontaneous trip,” Eddie said.

“And I thought I’d just drop in. Say hi,” Steve added.

“And that’s why you’re in my old barn?” you asked, somewhat annoyed with the three of them.

All three men clamored to explain why they were there, but, unsurprisingly, were not actually able to come up with a reason for their presence. Shocker.

“Hm. It’s a shame we don’t have any rooms right now,” you lied, knowing damn good and well that you definitely still had more than enough space. “It’s that time of year, you know?”

“That’s why I made the decision to book ahead,” Steve said as-a-matter-of-factly. “You know, for your convenience.”

Of course he did. You hated him. You hated that he’d planned a spontaneous visit twenty-one years after you’d seen him at such a time as this. It was like he knew that today and tomorrow were the most inconvenient times for you to deal with the repercussions of him being on the island.

“It’s… not a good time.”

“Why?” Jonathan asked.

“Because…”

You didn’t know how to tell them about Lena’s wedding tomorrow without telling them about Lena’s existence. They couldn’t know about her. Then they would want to stay even more.

“One of the local girls is getting married here tomorrow, and I… I just don’t have the staff to take care of everyone. You’d be so much more comfortable on the mainland. All three of you.”

“Oh, no. Not at all. Jonathan’s used to roughing it, and Eddie likes staying in places that are much, much worse.”

“And what about you?” you asked him, somewhat bitterly. “Seems like you left that part out.”

“Uh, me?” Steve asked, somewhat taken by surprise. “I, uh… I–I just came back to see the island, you know, and I, uh—”

“Listen, I’d love to stop and chat to, uh… reminisce about the good old days, but I have to go, uh… go clean one of the rooms, or something like that.”

Whenever you left the room, the three men all exchanged glances: even though you had aged twenty years, you still had not learned the subtle art of lying.

“Age has certainly done her well,” Jonathan finally said, breaking the silence.

“To be honest, I was expecting her to be stout and scary,” Eddie replied. “Like a crazy mom or something.”

“Nope,” Steve said, shaking his head. “She’s, uh… She’s still Y/N.”

With that, Jonathan, Steve, and Eddie made the decision to finally enter the villa and hopefully get sent to a real room.

As you walked back to the villa, you thought you were going to have a mental breakdown.

Nothing could have ever prepared you to ever see any of them again. Especially Steve. You hadn’t thought about seeing them in twenty years, so why would they—

That was a lie. You knew that. Even if you never wanted to talk to your daughter about it, you thought about that summer all the time.

It had started with Steve. You remembered meeting him clear as day, even now. That was back in your performing days, back when you secretly wanted to be just like your mother. You were singing in one of the bars back on the mainland and Steve was sitting at the bar. You finally noticed him after he didn’t leave for hours, only watching you as you sang a mix of covers and originals with your acoustic guitar. That night, Steve had taken you back to Pinestead Island, showing you the big and abandoned farmhouse where he’d been staying.

He’d given you the most thrilling month of your life. Steve had made sure that you felt loved every single night, and that you did. You didn’t think you would ever experience something so magical ever again. He had loved every single part of you and supported you every night at the bar, making sure you went back to your place with some type of money. He’d shown you that he could have had you anywhere: your bed, the kitchen table, the beach… it didn’t matter as long as he had you.

That was until Steve had gone home to get married. You remembered whenever he told you he had to go back home to Indiana and you had told him that you needed him to stay. You remembered that you didn’t understand. That was when he had told you that he had a fiancée, Amy, and he was supposed to marry her in four days. With that, you promptly told him with tears in your eyes to leave the island and that you never wanted to see him again, so long as you still lived.

You didn’t know if you would ever experience such heartbreak again. Steve Harrington had been enough to scare you out of ever truly loving anyone again for the rest of your life, and you were certain of that.

Shortly after that, you’d met Jonathan. He had come to the mainland to take pictures of the area for some travel magazine and had stopped by the bar for a drink. Of course, just like most of the men that walked into the bar, he was completely enamored with you and the Dynamos. The next day, you and Jonathan rented a motorboat and took it out to the island, mostly so you could show him what the place was like. Maybe he could have used it for your magazine, you told yourself. Whenever it had started raining and you had both gone inside the big house, the same one that you and Steve had shared together, something within you sank. Because of that, Jonathan had tried to make it all better for you, showing you that someone could love you again. After a night together, however, Jonathan’s contract was up—he had to go home, too.

That was when Eddie came into the picture. He and the band had a couple of gigs booked at the same bar you’d been working at all summer, but now you were opening for them. Eddie had talked to you before you’d gone on stage, making sure you were okay before you performed. After your set and Corroded Coffin’s set were over, Eddie offered to get you a couple of drinks, and you both got drunk enough that you brought him back to your place on the island. After having one of the craziest nights of your life sex-wise, Eddie hadn’t had any choice but to leave you on Pinestead Island so he could continue touring with his band.

With that, you had been left all alone.

You found out around three weeks after Eddie had left that you were pregnant. You had been about two weeks late on your period, so you took a test to confirm what you’d already known to be true. Your jeans and bras had already started to fit tighter, and you’d already started getting sick in the mornings, which you had just attributed to eating bar food every night.

After panicking because you were currently carrying a child in your stomach, you panicked even more. You couldn’t begin to think about who the father was. You hadn’t been thinking about it, mostly because you’d been partying all summer, but you couldn’t remember when your last period was. It had to have been some time before Steve had left, meaning that it could have been any of them.

Whenever you told your mother what had happened, she told you not to come home. She said that you had been stupid enough to run away to Michigan and to get knocked up, and even dumber for not even knowing who the father was. Because of that, she wanted nothing to do with you or the baby that you were still planning to keep.

That was when you had met Darlene. She had actually owned the abandoned farmhouse that you had been staying in, and she asked you if you wanted to stay with her. Of course, you had obliged. You didn’t really have a home to go back to now that your mother had disowned you, and you certainly didn’t want to be alone. In your opinion, that woman had saved your’s and Lena’s life. That was the reason you’d named your daughter after her, even if you didn’t truly know if Jonathan was the father or not.

Even if you’d had some wonderful times that summer, that didn’t mean that you ever wanted to see them again. Truly, you hadn’t ever prepared to see them again. You’d imagined for a long time what you would say to each of them if you did see them again, but most of it was for Steve. For the longest time, you’d thought that if you ever saw him again that you wouldn’t have been able to stop yourself from yelling at him, telling him how unfair it had been that he had spent that summer with you only to leave you alone on Pinestead to get married to some girl he was engaged to back home.

It was cruel. All of it. Whatever had brought them back to Pinstead now the day before Lena’s wedding was cruel, and you didn’t know what you had done to deserve such treatment from the world.

Your stress didn’t let up whenever you walked into your room and Robin and Nancy were trying on your old Y/N & the Dynamos costumes. At first, you chose to ignore them, simply asking the first question you needed to know. You would assess the Dynamos situation whenever you had the mental ability to do such a thing.

“Where’s Lena?” you asked, your voice tense.

“I haven’t seen her. Why?” Nancy asked.

“I have to find her right now—”

“Here it is!” Robin shouted, holding a large object in hand.

Whenever you saw what Robin was holding, you thought you were going to lose your mind. Under normal circumstances, seeing one of the old posters you three had made back in your partying days would’ve made you happy. Right now, though, it only made your head hurt.

“Now why was this piece of art hiding in that trunk?” Robin asked.

“That is the last thing I wanna see right now.”

“You should hang it in the bar,” Nancy said jokingly. “Show Lena what a cool mom she has.”

“Absolutely not! Give that here.” Whenever Robin handed it to you, you crumpled up the paper, throwing it on the ground. “I never wanna see that damn thing again.”

“What’s going on?” Nancy asked, her voice immediately lacing with concern.

“Yeah, what happened?”

“This has to be a joke,” you said, not even beginning to explain yourself. “Any minute I’m gonna wake up from this nightmare and they’ll all be gone.”

Before Nancy or Robin could say another word, you dove into your bed and buried your face into your pillow. It was the only thing that was stopping you from crying.

“What’s wrong?” “Nothing. Just leave me alone.” You took a shaky breath. “I knew this would happen one day. Of course it had to happen right now. Why was I such an idiot?”

“Come on,” Nancy said, moving to sit next to you on the bed. “Just tell us what’s wrong.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this torn up over anything,” Robin said. “It’s just depressing.”

“Just… Just tell us what’s going on,” Nancy said, putting her hand on your back.

You tried to think about what your options currently were. You could’ve simply told them that they didn’t need to know what was wrong, but that wouldn’t have ended well. Nancy and Robin wouldn’t have left you alone until you told them something. You could also lie, but you knew that they knew you were a bad liar. No matter what, you still ended up looking like an idiot: you might as well have just been honest with your two best friends.

You finally sighed, your voice broken as you sat up. “It’s her dad.”

“Whose dad?” Nancy asked, her eyes wide with concern.

“Lena’s!” you said, but your daughter’s name in your voice was much harsher than you intended it to sound. You sighed again. “You know how I always said it was Steve? Steve, the millionaire who ran home to get married?”

“Typical man,” Robin said, somewhat spitefully.

“Here’s the problem with that. I’m not quite sure it’s really him.”

Nancy and Robin both gave you confused looks. “What do you mean?”

You hesitated. “There might’ve been… a couple others.”

Robin shouted your name in response, almost as if she was about to scold you. “You’re telling us that you weren’t completely sure of who Lena’s dad was and you didn’t tell us!”

“I… I didn’t think I’d ever have to, to be honest with you. I didn’t think all three of them would be hiding out in my old barn the day before their potential daughter’s wedding.”

“They’re here?” Robin asked, rushing to the window. “Where’s the barn?”

Nancy shook her head. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” you said. “What, do you think I’d forget my daughter’s possible fathers or something?”

Nancy nor Robin truly knew what to say. It was too bad that there wasn’t an instruction manual about how to comfort one of your best friends about their three possible baby daddies accidentally showing up to their daughter’s wedding, except they don’t actually know that she’s potentially a daughter of one of them. Such a shame.

“Who are the other two?”

“Jonathan and Eddie,” you explained. “I just don’t understand why they’ve all three turned up now. It’s like some horrible curse or something.”

“Very Greek if you ask me,” Robin said. “Dare I say Shakespearean?”

“No. I can’t take any more drama this weekend.”

“Do they know?” Nancy asked.

“No, I never told anyone. That’s why I’m confused about why they’re here. It can’t just be a coincidence that Lena’s getting married tomorrow.”

“I thought you didn’t want this wedding to happen,” Robin asked, somewhat confused.

“Even if I don’t agree with it, she’s my daughter. They have no right to turn up like this. I mean, what have they done for Lena?”

“Be more fair than that. They don’t even know she exists!” Nancy said.

“They don’t need to know. I’ve done a good job at raising Lena all by myself and now… I–I’m not gonna let them ruin her day. I won’t.”

“Okay, then let’s make a plan. Tonight’s already a male-free zone at the bachelorette party, and then tomorrow Robin and I’ll, uh… t–take them fishing, or something. I don’t know. We’ll figure it out.”

“Fishing? Gross,” Robin replied, turning her nose up in disgust.

“I said or something.” Nancy sighed, shaking her head. “You should’ve told us. We could’ve helped more if we would’ve known.”

“No, you couldn’t have.”

“We could’ve tried.”

“I guess this serves me right after everything I’ve done,” you said, shaking your head. “I deserve this.”

“Oh my God, you sound just like your mother,” Nancy said.

You gasped, offended at the thought. “I do not!”

“You do!” Nancy replied, trying not to laugh. “Whatever happened to Y/N: the life and soul of the party?”

“Rock chick and sex symbol for all?” Robin added.

“Oh, she grew up, that’s all.”

You knew the real answer to that question. The old you was stupid is what she was. She had been stupid enough to get with all of those men, then not even do it with protection. You didn’t even think you now and your past self was near the same person anymore.

“Grow back down again, then. You’ve done nothing to be ashamed of,” Robin said. “We wanna see you have the time of your life again.”

“And maybe finally find someone,” Nancy said, smirking.

You sighed.

After everything you’d gone through in your life, you knew that a happy ending wasn’t in the cards for you. The only hope you had was that Lena and Leo would find their happy ending and that this marriage would be a huge waste of money and time.

For the sake of Nancy, though, you knew that you had to play along.

next chapter

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington series #steve harrington stranger things #mamma mia! au #eddie munson #jonathan byers

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notstilinski · 1 year

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One Last Stop Starters !

Taken from the 2021 novel by Casey McQuinston, One Last Stop Some of these have already been edited. You can change them however you see fit!

“(Name), stop telling people about frog ghosts.”

“They’re on (Name)‘s sleep schedule, though. So, a ghost in the night.”

“It gave us nine great years. And carpet can hide a multitude of sins.”

“If they’re gonna kill you, get their DNA under your fingernails.”

“That little twink contains multitudes.”

“They love me as much as they love anyone else.”

“You like jokes. I don’t.”

“Do you realize you just say words in any random order like they’re supposed to mean something?”

“I can’t decide if I’m impressed or horrified?”

“Definitely brought me back from the dead more than once, so, thank you.”

“Really out here smashing pussy, (Name).”

“We get about a hundred hot lesbians through here a week. You’ll find another one.”

“Sorry, like, it’s your life and all, but do you not hear how badass that sounds?”

“That sucks. I’m your mom now. The rules are, no Tarantino movies and bedtime is never.”

“You’re a bullshitter.”

“Because you have, like, the energy of someone who knows things.”

“A frontal lobotomy to forget the night I had?”

“Never thought I’d see a vampire I didn’t want to fuck.”

“We’ve kissed, like, three times, but they have that thing where they’re terrified of being loved and refuses to believe they’ve deserved it. It’s so tedious.”

“Does it ever, like… I don’t know. Make you lonely? To love somebody who can’t meet you there?”

“I hadn’t pegged you for a scammer.”

“I’m mysterious by nature, (Name).”

“Jesus. What did ya’ll do this time?”

“Hey, what’s up with you? Who hurt your feelings?”

“Who do we have to frame for murder?”

“A gift from (Name)? What god have I pleased?”

“Oh, I’m loving this already. What kind of creatures?”

“Cute. Maybe a poltergeist. A cute poltergeist. Can I meet them?”

“So, you’ve gathered us here to tell us you’re boned up for a ghost.”

“What? Pick the lock? What kind of feral child are you? Are you Jessica Jones?”

“You know, I thought you were a little spicy when I met you.”

“I swear to God, if a ghost kills me, I’ll haunt the shower.”

“Your friend is weird.”

“I told you, I think, I’m. Something’s wrong with me.”

“Honestly? The day I met you.”

“Yeah, guess I don’t have the whole magical soulmate bond you have with them.”

“(Name). Can we maybe not treat them like a creature of the week?”

“Like you’re their Pop-Tart angel. Like you shit sunshine. Like you invented love as a concept.”

“I think I should kiss you.”

“I’m repressing it! Let me repress it!”

“You’re so mean to me.”

“So many questions for someone who does not come to work.”

“Yeah, exactly. Forever. As in, it’s the only thing I know how to do.”

“I know logistically how to perform some tasks.“

“Go where? I’m trying to have a nervous breakdown here.”

“Can you turn that brain of yours off for a second and trust?”

“It makes me feel like I’m going to die!”

“You trusted me, right? Now trust yourself.”

“Big dick energy is gender neutral.”

“I mean, it’s as if you like to be emotionally tortured.”

“God, you are the most useless bisexual I’ve ever met in my entire goddam life.”

“I’d disappoint them. They don’t deserve to be disappointed.”

“Loving the sacrilege.”

“Wow, holy shit, you figured it out. You’re gonna win a Peabody Award for reporting.”

“As fun as it is to break your brain, no one at work knows. Tell them and I break your arm.”

“Is your family horny for Jesus too?”

“I’m not cute. I’m-I’m tough. Like a cactus.”

“Where does that disembodied voice keep coming from?”

“They’re always wearing the exact same thing. That’s ghost behavior if you ask me.”

“And I left them. That’s… Fuck. I forgot how that felt. I left them.”

“Yes, thank you. I invite you to eat a dick. Goodbye.”

“Maybe no good timing means there’s no bad timing either.”

“You’re a normal person. Under un-normal circumstances.”

“That’s new for you, huh? Being able to get drunk?”

“Is this a date? Am I on a date right now?”

“(Name). Any way you want to kiss me is the way I wanna be kissed, okay?”

“You’re like—like a fucking painting or something stupid like that, what the fuck. You just walk around like this all the time.”

“Sorry, was I skulking? Sometimes I skulk without realizing.”

“Okay, still, let me be a mom for a second.”

“(Name), we’re adults, just say you got your back blown out.”

“I guess criminal behavior isn’t as much of a turn-on for me.”

“Never go to a second location with someone unless you’ve checked their trunk for weapons first.”

“Let go of me. I deserve to be free.”

“They’re not gonna leave us if they get married, (Name).”

“How did this become a roast of me? (Name) is the one under the table.”

“I’m wearing a shirt and no pants. I’m Winnie the Pooh-ing it.”

“What do you mean? Why would they leave me something? I’m the shameful family secret.”

“No. I hit him. The lip is from when someone else pulled me off of him.”

“It’s like I died. I died, except I have to feel it. And on top of that, I have to feel everything else I’ve ever felt all over again. I have to get the bad news again every day, I have to deal with the choices I made, and I can’t fix it. I can’t even run from it. It’s miserable.”

“No, you didn’t. But you made me realize it. You made me remember. And maybe that’s worse.”

“Just because you can’t run doesn’t mean you can make me do it for you.”

“Uh-huh, and this wouldn’t have anything to do with the way you reflexively ice out anyone who even appears to have rejected or wronged you?”

“Oh, so they… they thought I just left without saying goodbye?”

“It’s not a heist. It’s… an elaborate, planned crime.”

“Okay…hmm… oh, I’ve made friends with a subway rat.”

“Judge all you want, but I’m the only one who will be spared in the inevitable Great Rat Uprising.”

“No, it’s cute! You’re such a nerd. It’s endearing!”

“What can I say? I’m the one that got away.”

“I have to say, I’m impressed. This is definitely the most organized crime I’ve ever been involved in.”

“Sometimes the point is to be sad, (Name). Sometimes you just have to feel it because it deserves to be felt.”

“For what it’s worth, you’ve never disappointed me once since I’ve met you.”

“Is there anything else you want, before tomorrow?”

“I just did it because I thought you were hot.”

“I was really lonely before I met you.”

“I like when you’re in crime boss mode.”

“They have to kill him. It’s the only way.”

“I can think later. Right now I just want to be here, okay?”

“I’m here. I’m not leaving.”

“You’re the most important person I’ve ever met. And I never should have met you at all.”

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence starters #sentence meme #starter sentences #ask prompts #ask meme #inbox memes #inbox prompts #novel sentence starters #my eyes are so tired from reading all day Jesus #gotta admit that it took me like 100 or so pages to get into this book & then i was in it for the long haul

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mrs-johansson · 2 years

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Strangers in the night - Scarlett Johansson x Fem!Reader

Part 10:

“What does it say?” I looked through the mirror at my agent Ester who had just found an article about Scarlett and me.

“The title is, Valentine’s Day meeting for Jojo Rabbit.” She read it out loud and I immediately rolled my eyes. “The pair met up on a very odd day, that being Valentine’s Day. Lady Bird actress Y/n Cole and pal Scarlett Johansson enjoyed dinner at Pablo’s Jazz Bar in Manhattan on the day of lovers. Sources say, the pair were having a great time, cozy with each other and they left together. It is known that Cole is directing her first movie Jojo Rabbit later this year, with Johansson as the starring actress.” “I feel like I can’t meet up with anyone anymore without having tabloids everywhere,” I murmured while looking at the first dress. Melanie, my stylist, held the dress’s skirt part as I turned around, facing Eater. “What do you think?” I asked, smoothing over the material. “Did you have to go out on Valentine’s Day?” She spread her arms.

Letting out a sigh I stepped back up to the podium in front of the mirror. “Let’s look at the next one,” I told Melanie and once we took the dress off and she left the room, I reached for my robe.

“It was just a friendly dinner. We’ve been talking a lot lately and we thought we should meet up before filming, getting to know each other. It was just a coincidence that it was Valentine’s Day.” “And how was it?”

How was it? It was amazing. I had the most fun of my life, and I’m just mesmerized by this woman.

“Great. We had fun.”

***

Scarlett🌷: how was the fitting?

me: it was fine, got the dress and the accessories so everything’s done

Scarlett🌷: can I get a sneak peek?😏

me: hmm… I promised didn’t I?😌

me: (let’s pretend it’s a picture)

Scarlett🌷: god if they don’t give you the award in this dress then I’ll be very upset

Scarlett🌷: you look stunning y/n

me: thank you❤️ but I don’t think I’m going to win

Scarlett🌷: why wouldn’t you? You did amazing

me: there’s meryl who even though has a 100 of them, she still gets them every single time

me: Margot who played a real person and let’s not even mention the rest

Scarlett🌷: and still you’re there because you did a spectacular job at such young age

me: I don’t know

Scarlett🌷: whatever happens, I’m proud of you and I think you should win💛

me: it means a lot Scar❤️

***

It’s been a week since our date and honestly I kind of miss her. Yes, we talk almost every day, but Rose got home this week and of course, I understand that she has less time for me, but we’re gonna meet this weekend.

And today my dad is staying till we go to Los Angeles and I told him I’ll pick him up from the airport. Usually, he says that he’ll just catch a taxi, but I wouldn’t want him to suffer through an hour drive with a stranger.

Mom doesn’t have time to visit, as usual, honestly, I’m not even disappointed anymore.

Waiting for dad at the parking lot I was just reading the Bombshell script trying to memorize my lines then the text from dad popped up, that he was here.

Stepping out of the car I looked around the parking lot, hoping to catch his tall figure.

Even though I made sure to put glasses and a baseball cap on, some people still let their eyes linger and two younger girls even came up to me. But they seemed nice.

“Hi, we wouldn’t want to bother you but we’re big fans of you, is there any chance we can take a picture?” The girl on the left asked with hopeful eyes, she was shy but the other one seemed more anxious.

I couldn’t say no, they were polite and respectful. “Of course, what’s your name?” I took my glasses off, so I don’t look like an asshole in the pictures, no offense, but I don’t like when famous people do that.

“I’m Ava and this is my sister Nora,” the same girl said and her sister smiled shyly, picking on her nails.

We took a couple of pictures and the girls asked me about Red Sparrow a little bit but I couldn’t tell them much of course. Mostly Ava was the one who was talking

“And you Nora? What’s your favorite movie?” I looked at her and her eyes widened, cheeks got tinted with color. She shifted in her place and uncrossed her arms. “I like Lady Bird. I just relate to her a lot and I think you’re amazing in it. I hope you get the Oscar,” she said and I smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

After a couple of minutes, my phone started ringing and I said goodbye to the girls and then took the call. “Hi honey, I just got out. Where are you?” Dad spoke. “I’m in the parking lot, you should see me if you come out on the A exit,” I kept looking that way then a couple of minutes later I saw his gray hair and waved to him which he thankfully saw.

***

“How was your flight?” “It was great, I got some work done,” dad said. “That’s great, what do you want for dinner?” “We can have takeout, you don’t have to cook.” “Are you sure?” I glanced at him and he nodded. “How’s mom?” I looked back at the road, watching the light turn green.

“She’s good, she says hi,” he said awkwardly. “Great.” “How are you? What have you been up to lately?” He quickly changed the topic.

“I’m good. I spend a lot of time with my friends a lot. Actually, this weekend, not sure if it's Saturday or Sunday, but I’ll have a friend coming over and it’s kind of new and I’m not sure if it’s time for you guys to meet yet…” “I’ll be gone for the day, don’t worry. Is it a guy or a girl?” I saw from the corner of my eyes that he was looking at me with a smirk. I glanced at him carefully then turned back. “A woman.” “Oh a woman, okay. Do I know her?” Dad asked with a teasing voice. “Probably,” I cleared my throat, already nervous about the whole conversation. “So she’s famous?” “Yeah, but it’s like really new. We only had one date so far,” I smiled shyly, trying to control my joy. “That's great, kid. And how was it?” “The best date I ever had. I don’t know, I feel like it’s already serious you know. And I really like her so I hope everything goes great.” Really hope it will, honest to God. She’s one of the best things that happened to me in the past couple of months.

“I’m glad Y/n. What’s she like?” “Well… She’s like a ray of sunshine, to be honest. She’s really funny and flirty and she makes me blush like all the time. She is uhm divorced and she has a daughter. She’s amazing really.” “A daughter?” The surprise in his voice. “Yeah, she’s three and she’s really cute.” “So she is older than you?” “Yeah, a little but it doesn’t bother me. She’s very intelligent and doesn’t really care about other people’s opinions, so she’s just… I don’t know, open-minded I guess.” “Maybe that’s what you need. I mean someone mature and seen the world.” “Okay, she’s not that much older, only by 8 years.” Furrowing my eyebrows, I pulled up to the driveway. “Oh, that’s not much. Will you tell me who it is?” Dad asked as we got out of the car.

“Hmm…” “Oh come on, you told me basically who she is, just not her name.” He got his suitcase from the back and I walked up to the door, unlocking the house. “You swear not to tell anyone though,” I watched as dad rolled the suitcase in, closed the door behind himself, and looked at me with big eyes.

“Swear on my mother’s grave,” he put his hand over his heart. “Especially not mom,” I took my coat off alongside my shoes. “Why can’t you just tell me? You know, you can trust me,” he spread his arms. He's right though.

“Okay… uhm,” nervously walking around the living room, I finally sat on the armrest of the couch. Dad stood at the living room door, on the edge for sure. “She’s a friend of Chris’s,” I started. “Okay…” I saw the wheels turning in his head. “It’s Scarlett Johansson…” I mumbled quietly, looking everywhere but at him. “Who?” Dad pushed his head forward, since I was so quiet. “Scarlett Johansson.”

He leaned to the door frame, crossing his arms. “Didn’t I raise you right?” “Oh my god…” I closed my eyes, hanging my head low. “What? She’s a very good-looking woman and she’s very successful. And from what you told me, she’s an amazing person. I’m proud of you, kid.” He walked up to me, wrapping me up in a big hug. “Thank you? I guess… but we’re not dating, you know?” “Yet! It seems like she’s got you wrapped around her finger pretty bad.” I smiled at his words and nodded. “She really does.”

***

In the next couple of days, we were at home mostly. Once or twice we went out to dinner or lunch or just walked around town for a while.

It was Friday night, Dad thought it was the perfect time to watch a movie after we had dinner. Opened a bottle of wine and settled down on the couch, watching a film of his choice.

“I don’t even like this guy,” I murmured as I watched Matt Damon on the screen. “Why not?” “Because he has an asshole face. I’ve never met him though.”

I’m not mean I swear, I just have people who I look at and I don’t like them, does that make sense?

My phone started buzzing next to me and I quickly reached for it to see that it was Scarlett. “I’ll be back,” I said as I was getting up from the couch, taking the call.

“Hi,” I said swiftly, really nervous about the call. Gosh, I felt my Palma being sweaty and I swear my heart was racing. “Hey, I just wanted to check if we’re still on for the weekend,” Scarlett spoke and I smiled like an idiot as soon as I heard her voice. “Yes, of course. Which day is better for you?” I fidgeted with my fingers anxiously, waiting for her answer. “Tomorrow is great if that’s alright for you.” “It is, yeah…” I felt the nerves linger through the phone call, neither of us knowing what to say.

Taking a sharp breath in, I had to break the silence. “I uhm… I miss you,” I bluntly stated and I felt like someone knocked all the air out of my lungs. I was so nervous and scared about how she was going to react but then she spoke. “I miss you too, darling. I honestly can’t wait to see you. It’s a shame you’ll leave for three months, I hope you won’t forget about me,” she said and I could imagine that smirk on her face that drives me oh so crazy. “Of you? Never. On the other hand, I hope you won’t forget about me, there are a lot of people who would like to get their hands on you…” I smirked, hoping to hear a good reaction. “Oh Y/n, no one compares to you. I met you for a reason and I’m throwing that away,” okay my heart just burst out of happiness and joy. “You’re making my ego so much bigger with this,” I chuckled shyly, feeling the heat creeping up my neck right to my cheeks. “You started this when you were screaming my name, don’t you remember?” Now, I was definitely blushing at that sentence and how she lowered her voice… god this woman. “Isn’t Rose there with you?” I cleared my throat. “No, she wanted to sleep over at my mom’s.” Oh wow, she’s so much. Of course, she’s doing this on purpose. “You’re something else, aren’t you?” I asked, walking up to my bedroom. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it,” yeah she’s just really good at this. Talks her way into my head then somewhere else… “I did not say that. Don’t put words in my mouth,” I grabbed some jeans from the wardrobe and started to get dressed. “I thought you liked having things in your mouth, but I guess I was wrong,” she sighed dramatically. “You’re hooked already wow… so desperate,” I murmured with a smirk. “You’re the one who’s already getting dressed, who’s desperate now?” How proud is she… but she’s right, I was almost out of the house. “This was your plan all along, don’t pretend it wasn’t,” I grabbed a leather jacket and walked downstairs. “Oh, it was.” “I know, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” “Can’t wait.”

#gxg #scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson x female reader #scarlett johansson imagines

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gaycorner101 · 1 year

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Speak now (or forever hold your peace) ❤️🤍💙

Summary: just as Henry and Alex were finally figuring out their relationship and what it meant for both of them, Henry was forced to engage in a fake marriage with a girl chosen by the king to uphold their reputation and legacy. What will this mean for the two of them and will the wedding go on or will Alex have the courage to stop it and save their love?

Warnings: cussing, angst, mentions of smut, arguing/fighting

I had so much fun writing this. My friend and I wrote and read through each paragraph together. Some of this isn’t proofread so ignore any grammatical mistakes lol. But I hope y’all love it as much as I did. And please send me requests. I do Alex and Henry, Charlie and nick, Simon and willie.

PART 2 COMING SOON! (The wedding)

💜🤍

I am not the kind of boy who should be rudely barging on a white-veil occasion. But you are not the kind of boy who should be marrying the wrong girl.

August 5th, 2015

Curtains closed, slight sun-slight shining through the cracks of the velvet material just enough to light up the darkness of the room but also enough to conceal their privacy. Alex and Henry were on Henry’s bed in England, just shortly after Alex’s mom won her second 4 year term as president of the United states.

They had all celebrated and Alex had brought Henry to his childhood home in Austin where Ellen had gone to give her speech to try to win over Texas, their hometown. He had shown Henry all the photos, height indentures in the wall, awards he had won while he lived as a middle class citizen, and especially his bedroom where they had made love, which was probably the most meaningful place they had ever done so.

It had been a beautiful night of laughing, cuddling, and deep conversations where they really opened up and shared things that had made them even closer somehow. Alex showing Henry something as sentimental as his home growing up had really broke another part of Henry’s wall down, making it easier for Alex to slip through.

Now they lay there in London , in the comfort of silk sheets and warm skin, fingers slightly grazing over one another, tired eyes meeting and kisses being placed over and over again. Henry deeply sighed but not one of uncomfortableness or stress, but a sigh of content and satisfaction. Alex who had his legs intertwined with Henry’s, looked up at him and smiled slightly. “What?” He said, voice gruff and deep. Henry bit his lip and shook his head, shifting his body a little to face towards him. “I’m just-I’ve accepted this. Not that I haven’t already before but truly accepted this is my life. This is who I am and you’re apart of that.” Alex smirked and placed a kiss on his neck. “Henry being lovey? Who even are you?”

Henry scoffed and feigned hurt, hand going over his heart. “I’m offended that you think I’m not lovey…I happen to be a hopeless romantic so screw you, darling.” Alex’s laughter filled the room and he wrapped his arms around Henry and pulled him closer. “I’m just messing with you baby. You’re very romantic and also good in bed.” Henry raised his eyebrows and absent mindedly drew circles into Alex’s back. “Good in bed huh? And here I thought that you loved me for more than my body.” Alex scoffed and shoved him lightly before pulling him in for a soft kiss. “Don’t you even go there. You know I love you, all of you.” He said after pulling away from him.

Henry raised his lips into a genuine smile and went back into the kiss, this time a deeper, sensual kiss. One that left both of them humming for more. The moment was pulled from them when they heard a knock at the door and the rattling of a door knob. Phillips obnoxious voice rung through the hardwood sending both of them into a panic. “Why in the world is your door locked, Henry?” Alex shot up and pulled on his clothes before throwing himself onto a chair a couple feet away from the bed. Henry quickly put on sweatshirt before yelling back. “Uh-coming. One second!” He stood up and walked towards the door, giving one quick glance at Alex before unlocking it and opening it up seeing Phillip stand there all proper and professional, so basically an asshole.

They still hadn’t come out to anyone. The only people who knew was bea, June, zhara, and Ellen. They were both scared of what coming out would bring them considering they were both in high levels of power in two different countries. The press, friends, family, citizens, fans….it would all be so chaotic. And as much as Alex was worried about it all, Henry was more terrified of the situation given his royal status. So they decided to keep quiet and stay in their own little world just for a while longer.

“What’s up?” Henry said, hoping that Philip would say what he needed to say and move on, leaving them alone for the night. Phillip cleared his throat and shot his eyes over to Alex who was sitting in the chair, arms crossed and focused on the conversation. Alex shifted uncomfortably noticing the daggers coming his way. Henry cleared his throat which brought back his attention and Phillip nodded once. “The king has requested both you and Alex in his office, now. Said it was a pressing matter.” Henry scrunched his eyebrows, nerves already starting to bunch up at the ominous sentence as alex stood up from the chair and made his way over to the two brothers. “Why Alex?”

Phillip rolled his eyes, clear annoyance at the question presented. “I’m not at liberty to say. I was given instructions and I’m simply following them. So I would suggest you do the same, Henry.” He walked away, hands at his sides.

Henry’s breathing had faltered and hand curled up into a ball. Alex shut the door and grabbed his balled up fist, prying his fingers apart to replace them with his own. “Hey I’m sure everything is fine. Just breathe. Phillip is an ass and probably making it sound worse than it is.” Henry pulled away and walked across the room to his closet. “If it wasn’t serious, he wouldn’t have asked for you too, Alex. Something is wrong and I’m sure he knows and we’re going to be royally fucked and no I’m not trying to make a joke about any of this and-“ Alex cut him off by standing in front of him and placing both hands on either sides of his face. “Hey hey…baby.” He said softly, eyes searching Henry’s face for any sign of nerves or fear which was evident in all his features.

Henry’s eyes had filled with tears, hands starting to shake. “Hey whatever it is…we will handle it. We always do. I love you. I love you.” He emphasized the phrase. Henry hugged him tightly, gripping his shirt. Alex held his head to his chest and kissed his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. Get dressed and we’ll go and figure this out.” Henry nodded and after pulling away, collected himself and put on the first suit he had hanging up.

💜🤍

Henry and Alex reached the kings office. The door was closed shut, leaving room for more nerve wracking thoughts. As much as Alex wanted to reach for his boyfriends hand, he knew the gesture would be a waste of effort. So he stood there and looked over at Alex, waiting for him to make a call on what to do. Just as he was about to ask, Henry reached forwards and knocked on the door then stepped back and placed both hands behind his back. Something Alex noticed was a royal movement.

Both doors were opened and there stood Phillip once again, looking like he knew what was coming and couldn’t wait to be apart of the reveal. Thankfully, bea was also in the room which eased some of Henry’s discomfort but only a little. The king stood by the open windows, not even a sliver of darkness covered the room which was ironic given the circumstances of everything happening at the moment.

“You know. When I was young,” the king started to say. “I used to sneak around with this girl. She was a citizen while I was just learning how to be a prince. I thought it would make me feel normal and maybe a little bit rebellious. I did think at the time I would be with her for the rest of my life. But it was just a dumb teenagers brain talking. A stupid phase in life. Until I learned the lessons of being a prince and changed my life around.” He looked over at Henry, no real expression on his face, just focus. Like he was hinting at what he was really wanting to say. “What are you getting at, sir?”

King James gestured towards the couch that was placed in the middle of the room, surrounded by a couple other chairs and couches. “Have a seat. We have a lot to discuss.” Everyone in the room sat down. Henry and Alex on one couch, king James on the opposite facing them, bea and Phillip in chairs that also sat opposite of the other. “Is there a reason Phillip and bea are here?” Henry stated. “Yes, Henry. This is a family matter and they deserve to apart of the conversation that is being discussed.”

Alex could see a slight smirk from Phillip out of the corner of his eye and wanted nothing more than to cross the room and punch it off his face. How could a person have this much disdain and hatred for his own brother that he would find joy in his pain and fear?

“And what exactly is being discussed? Why were we- why was I pulled away from my room just to beat around the bush? What is going on?” The king cleared his throat and gave a very pointed look at his grandson, a look that would terrify anyone who didn’t know him, one that said ‘you won’t interrupt me or speak to me that way.’ Although Henry wasn’t afraid, he still clamped his mouth shut and let him continue.

“I received a very concerning and unexpected email today and to say I’m surprised and disappointed would be an understatement.” Henry’s anxiety started creeping up once again, hands shaking slightly but not enough for anyone to notice. He had a feeling he knew where this going and had no way to prepare for it. Alex noticed Henry’s mannerisms and his heart broke at not being able to console him but he also wanted his own comfort at the way this interaction was heading.

“The emails consisted of pictures with the two of you….together in a way that was clear that there was more than friendship. I will not go into detail because quite frankly I’m disturbed and concerned for the well-being of this country.” Henry gulped and cleared his throat. “I-I can explain. I can- there’s a-a logical reasoning for-“ Phillip laughed sharply and stood up. “Logical reasoning? Really Henry? You’re going to come up with some magical way to explain being a homo?” Bea gasped and raised her hand up to cut him off, hand slicing through the tension almost. “Watch yourself Phillip.”

Alex clenched his fists at his sides, sitting in silence because he knew he could not speak unless spoken to especially in presence of the king. So he kept his mouth shut and just waited until they were alone in their own darkness again.

King James raised his own hand up to silence the room which clearly had an affect because everyone went quiet and Phillip sat down again. “You have to understand the seriousness of it all. I am not trying to make you feel unwelcome or hated but this will affect our Legacy tremendously if actions aren’t taken immediately.” Henry gaped, eyes wide in disbelief. “Not trying to make me feel hated yet starting off with ‘disgusted’ and ‘disturbed’. Is this why you told me your story about the girl you snuck around with? To tell me I’m making a mistake. Except replace a girl with a guy and then tell me I’m sinning, correct? Well sorry to tell you, your royal highness but I’m in love with Alex and I will not have you tell me what I feel or how I should act.”

“Henry! I will not have you disrespect me in any way, especially in my own home. I could not care less how you feel in this situation. This is me protecting the royal status and the country. So as of next week a news article will be released headlining your engagement to lady Delilah. A very respecting and presentable young woman.” Henry could very much at that moment hear his heart beating loudly in his chest and it was as if everything in him was shattering.

Bea stood up immediately and raised her voice, not caring how rude she sounded. “No. You can’t do that! That’s so wrong and cruel. They’re in love grandpa. Can’t you see that!? Can’t you see past the legacy and look at how much you’re hurting Henry?” King James looked up at bea with disbelief but before he could respond, Phillip opened his mouth once again. “Can’t you see how selfish Henry is being towards this country? Don’t you see if Henry, the prince of wales came out as gay, how badly that would affect all of us? Open your fucking eyes, Beatrice.” She scoffed and licked her lips which is what she did when she was about shut someone down with her compelling arguments.

“No you open yours, you twat! How is he being selfish? By being in love with a man? If it was a woman, no one would even think about this conversation. In fact they would congratulate him and ask him how he was gonna propose it if it was even serious.” He rolled his eyes and chuckled, zero humor in his tone. “Yeah because our legacy is a guy or girl marrying the opposite sex to continue the line of royalty. To have children and keep it going because that’s what has happened for centuries and I’ll be damned if he ruins that just to have a sliver of whatever the fuck this even is.”

“Silence!” The kings voice boomed throughout the wide room, echoing off the walls. Everyone looked at him, waiting for his next words. “No matter what anyone says about this…situation. My words are final and this discussion is over. Henry and Alex, I’m giving you one last night to say goodbye and then Alex,” Alex looked up after staring at his lap the entire time, heart beating and an overwhelming feeling taking over his entire body. “You will be escorted back to America on the first plane back to Washington tomorrow morning. Your family will be invited to the wedding to keep the peace aligned but as of tomorrow, your communication will cut off. So spend your last night however you please, truthfully I don’t care.” Phillip gawked at him and shook his head. “You can’t be serious. You’re gonna let them-“

“I do not remember speaking to you. It is my decision and final say of the matter. All of you are dismissed. And Henry, I will see you tomorrow to discuss the more prominent details in private.”

Henry’s eyes welled up with tears and he rushed out of the room, Alex quickly on his heels. “Henry. Henry slow down. Baby please.” He grabbed his arm and yanked him towards him but Henry shoved him away. “Stop Alex! You heard what he said! I can’t-I can’t do this. I can’t live without you. I-I. You’re my boyfriend. You’re my life. My happiness and now I’m going to be forced to marry someone I don’t even know. I won’t be able to see you for we-weeks.” He choked on the last word and grasped his chest. “I can’t-I can’t breathe.” His breathing became erratic and heavy, knees buckling. “Woah hey.” Alex caught him in the moment he was falling to the ground and just held him in the middle of the gigantic hallway, not a soul to be found. “Sweetheart you’ve having a panic attack. Listen to my voice, focus on your breathing, my love. I’ve got you. I always have. Just me and you. Me and you baby.” Although his own heart was breaking and he was on the verge of breaking down, he needed to be there for Henry.

Henry just sobbed into Alex’s shirt and held into him but started to take deep breaths and calm himself down slowly. “There you go. Just breathe.”

After a couple of minutes, Henry went silent and just laid their in Alex’s lap. The silence was needed even for just a moment to truly process everything that happened. “Alex I can’t lose you. You’re the only person who’s made me feel real.” Alex played with his hair and sniffled, a few tears of his own dropping. “I know…I feel the same about you. But I promise we will figure this out. I’ll talk to my mom and-and zhara tomorrow. We’ll fix this.” Henry sat up and wiped at his eyes before making eye contact with Alex. “How? How are you gonna fix this? This isn’t even your country.” Alex shrugged and looked away from him, not wanting Henry to see his red rimmed eyes. “I-I don’t know but I will.”

Henry placed his hand on Alex’s chin and forced him to look at him. “Oh darling.” He hugged him and they just held each other in silence. It was like that for a long time again before Henry spoke up again, this time a different tone overtook his voice. “If this is our last night together before we come up with a plan, can I ask one thing?” Alex pulled back to look at him and nodded. “Anything.” Henry shifted his eyes back and fourth across his face and placed a hand on his leg. “Make love to me.”

Alex stood up as soon as Henry finished the sentence and grabbed his hand to help him up. “I thought you’d never ask.” They practically ran back to Henry’s room and as soon as the door was locked and closed, their lips smashed together and hands moving all across each other. They backed up towards the bed and as soon as their clothes were off, alex pushed Henry onto to the bed and began lavishing his neck.

Moans and grunts filled the room as they made the most sensual love, knowing that tomorrow they wouldn’t be able to see or contact each other for weeks and possibly ever again. It was a blissful night and after going several rounds, they eventually fell next to each other, breathing heavily and skin glistening with sweat. “God that was amazing.” Alex said, intertwining their bodies together not caring how hot they were in the bed together, under the sheets. “Yeah it was.” Henry said in an almost whisper as if he was too afraid to even speak.

Alex looked over and saw tears streaming from his eyes. “Henry….” He shook his head and sobbed. “Don’t. Just please hold me. Don’t say anything.” Alex’s lip quivered and immediately he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him as close as possible, refusing to let go for even a moment. “Okay.” He said softly. Not another word was spoken for the rest of the night as they fell asleep crying and holding each other.

💜🤍

As the sun rose and shined through the velvet curtains once again, Henry and Alex were wrapped up in each other. Both awake but silent. They were just staring at each other, no a word to be spoken. There were no words needed as they knew what was going to happen soon. Alex would be put onto a plane and yanked away from henry, forced to stay on the sidelines while he watched his lover being forcefully wedded to a different person, from a different country.

None of it was fair and it was clear in the air the animosity that was building up as they waited. Small touches, soft kisses, and yet never any words. For there are many ways to say I love you to someone without so much as a peep. Love wasn’t always something that had to be said out loud. The best type of love was one that was obvious and never needing to be proven or talked about. It was just there. And that’s what they felt in that moment even though their lives were about to be turned upside down, ruined.

The knock on the door cause them to both jerk. Not out of being startled but because they both knew what that meant. The only thing they didn’t know is who would be standing on the other side. It could either be Phillip with a smirk on his face just ecstatic to send Alex back off to America and to torture and bully his brother into submission and into a life he never wanted. Or it would be bea, a sad look on her face not wanting this for either of them and not wanting to be the one to escort her brothers only source of true happiness of the premises. Thankfully when Henry went up to answer the door, it was bea. And although it didn’t make him feel better about any of it, she would at least show compassion and kindness throughout the whole process and for that he was thankful.

“Hey.” She said softly, a sadness in her voice that made him feel bad for her when he was the one who was hurting. “The plane is waiting. The king says it’s time to go…he insists that Alex leaves now so he can make plans with you. I’m so sorry Henry. None of this is fair. I tried to talk to him after you guys left but he wouldn’t hear it. I really tried.” He smiled a sad smile and hugged her tightly. “Thank you bea. I really appreciate that but it isn’t your fault. We’re gonna do everything we can to stop this. There has to be a way. I can’t lose him. Not now. Not after we just figured everything out.” Beatrice pulled back and rested her hands on his shoulders. “My dear brother, I swear on everything I will do everything to help you stop this. You’re not going to lose him. I know it’s gonna be hard to not see him or talk to him but it’ll all be worth it in the end.”

He nodded and sighed when he felt a pair of strong arms envelope him. Alex rested his head on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. “She’s right baby. We will get through this.” Henry grabbed Alex’s hands that were crossed over his chest and brought them up to his lips to place a kiss. “I know.” He turned around to face Alex and bea stepped out to give them privacy.

“I love you.” Henry said, grazing his thumb over Alex’s cheek. Alex leaned into his touch and closed his eyes. “I love you so much.” When Alex opened his eyes again, Henry pulled away and with tears in his eyes, stepped out of the way of the doorway. “If you don’t leave now, I won’t be able to let you go.” Alex wanted to just post on his instagram right now but he knew he couldn’t, not without Henry being ready. He just wish he was because this could be solved but he understood the fear he felt and would never betray that.

He bit his lip to stop himself from crying and left the room, following bea out to where they had their private plane, of course they did. It was better than a public plane though, much safer without all those people. The loud engine was making it all too real and his nerves were screaming at him and he wanted to puke right in front of everybody but he composed himself. Before he reached the steps of the plane, he hugged bea and whispered in her ear. “Thank you for everything. Tell Henry not to give up and that I’m coming up with a plan. Tell him to wait for me and I’ll be here as soon as I can.” He felt bea nod and grip him tightly, a strength he didn’t know she had. “I will. I promise.” He pulled away and wiped a tear off of her face and smiled before he kissed her cheek and walked into the plane. He turned around to see if Henry was there but he wasn’t. He didn’t blame him though. It was hard enough to say goodbye already, watching him leave would be too hard.

He disappeared and sat at the back of plane, farthest away from prying ears and picked up his phone. He dialed the one person who he knew could fix any problem he had no matter how long it could. As it rang he thought of how he was going to go about explaining everything and how important this was to him that it be done as soon as possible. He heard the click of someone answering, a shuffle, a curse word, and then “alex? You okay?” He sighed and looked out the window as the plane took off back to America. “Zhara. I need your help.”

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #alex x henry #alex diaz #prince henry rwrb #princehenry #prince henry george edward james hanover stuart fox #henry and alex #taylor swift #speak now #taylors version #lgbtq #alex claremont diaz #firstprince #nicholas galitzine #taylor zakhar perez #fucking eyelashes

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mybookplacenet · 2 months

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Author Interview: Haley Cavanagh

Tell us about yourself.: I am an award-winning YA sci-fi/fantasy and self-help book author, a military veteran, a wife of 20+ years, and a mom to two teens. Where did you grow up, and how did this influence your writing?: I was a scrappy apartment kid who joined the military right after high school. I was fortunate enough to have some amazing teachers and adults influence my life along the way. My writing reflects this from the characters to their surroundings. I love to write about a normal person who goes through extraordinary circumstances. Do you have any unusual writing habits? I can't write without my dog. My dog loves to cuddle my ankles while I write. I don't know who started it, but to this day, I can't really focus on anything unless I have my furry cuddle buddy. What authors have influenced you? I was a scrappy apartment kid who joined the military right after high school. I was fortunate enough to have some amazing teachers and adults influence my life along the way. My writing reflects this from the characters to their surroundings. I love to write about a normal person who goes through extraordinary circumstances. Do you have any advice for new authors? Don't ever give up. Believe in yourself and in your potential, and no matter what, keep writing. What is the best advice you have ever been given? "From here on out, it's sink or swim. Decide what YOU'RE going to do." What are you reading now? Ikigai What's your biggest weakness? Charcuterie! And chocolate. All the chocolate. What is your favorite book of all time? The Stand by Stephen King The Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins Intensity by Dean Koontz When you're not writing, how do you like to spend your time? Spending time with my family and doing fun things together. Do you remember the first story you ever read, and the impact it had on you? I remember reading Little Women by Louisa May Alcott when I was six or seven. It was my first full-blown book, and it catapulted me into a love of literature. I wanted to be Jo, she was so cool! What has inspired you and your writing style? My military experience and growing up the way I did. What are you working on now? I am writing a second book in the Evol-Human Chronicles world - a 2nd book after Shadowed Skies. It takes place both on land and in an underwater village. I'm having fun with it. What is your favorite method for promoting your work? Instagram and blog tours are the easiest. When it comes to marketing I much prefer to just write my head off, but I like being able to interact with readers, so if it's not an in-person book signing or a workshop, I love seeing everyone's comments and hearing what they have to say. What's next for you as a writer? I plan to continue writing YA books for the foreseeable future. How well do you work under pressure? One of my strengths is I deal very well with stress. I try to help others in stressful situations. I'm grateful for my military experience for that. How do you decide what tone to use with a particular piece of writing? I ask myself if the emotional actions are honest and gauge the age, self-awareness, and environment of the characters. If the action or tone is appropriate for their situation, then that's what I go with. If not, there's always the old editing cutting board! If you could share one thing with your fans, what would that be? Nothing you ever do with your imagination is wasted. Adulting: The Ultimate Cheat Sheet began as a few lines scrawled onto a Post-It Note. So if you've got a dream, no matter how ridiculous or weird or small it might seem, believe in yourself and pursue it with all your heart. Haley Cavanagh's Author Websites and Profiles Website Amazon Profile Goodreads Profile Smashwords Profile BookBub Profile Haley Cavanagh's Social Media Links Facebook Page Twitter Instagram LinkedIn Pinterest YouTube Account Read the full article

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throwawayshorts · 2 years

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Guess who’s at it again~

Another test sequence for the actual story

[Tw: Implied trauma, physical abuse, self-destructive behavior, sorry if I missed any lmk plz]

“It was nice of Garrett to clear up his schedule so we could visit. I know how busy he gets,” Farida commented idly as they sat at a red light.

“Yeah. Very…very nice of him…” Gabriel was not as excited. He hadn’t seen Garrett in months. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he could imagine his uncle wouldn’t be too happy to see him again.

“You alright? You look pale…”

“Probably just something I ate. I don’t think I was imagining when I saw the ‘chicken patty’ move…” If nothing else, school lunch was definitely a good scapegoat. His nerves were through the roof.

Farida hummed. “I should talk to the principal about putting something more…edible on you kids’ plates…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just start packing a lunch.”

“Alright. Just let me know if we need to turn around, okay?”

Absolutely not. “Okay, mom.” She’d been talking about visiting Garrett the whole plane ride back from Russia. He wanted to get it over with.

In that moment, he almost considered telling his mom about what had been going on for the past nine years. But he quickly dismissed the thought. She felt guilty enough for having been gone so long. She didn’t need him to add to it. Besides, it’s not like Garrett could do anything while she was there…right?

His gut twisted a little tighter. He hoped nothing would happen. That Garrett wouldn’t say anything.

Too soon, they were pulling in to the parking garage.

Farida beamed. “This’ll be nice. Do you think he’d mind if we stayed here a while longer while I look for an apartment?”

It was that moment that Gabriel realized he was going to have to eventually break to her that he was no longer living with his uncle…and come up with a very good reason why that didn’t involve adding more guilt.

His phone dinged. He pulled it out to look.

Alex: You’re sure this is a good idea? I’m sure it wouldn’t be so bad if you just told her…

He quickly typed out a response.

Gabriel: I’m sure. She feels bad enough. I can do this for her.

Alex: You know she’s only going to feel more guilty when she finds out.

Gabriel shoved his phone back into his pocket. Alex was right. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell Farida at the moment. She was so excited to see everyone.

I’ll tell her later, he told himself, knowing damn well it was a lie.

He led her to the elevator, then up to the penthouse. He instinctively stiffened as the elevator doors slid open. Garrett sat in his chair, reading a book. He stood when he heard the elevator open.

“Farida! It’s so good to see you alive and well!” he greeted, striding over and pulling her into a hug.

“I’m glad to see you’ve taken good care of Gabriel while I was gone,” she replied. “Sorry it was…longer than expected.”

“Think nothing of it. He’s grown into a fine young man.” Garrett smiled, putting a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. The boy resisted the urge to flinch away.

Was that…genuine? Gabriel couldn’t remember the last time his uncle had said something nice about him.

“I know this is really last-minute, but would you mind if we stayed here a little longer while I look for an apartment and get things in order?” Farida asked.

Garrett’s award-winning smile returned. “Of course! I’ve actually been pretty busy, so I don’t stay here as much anymore. You can take the master bedroom if you like. I have other accomodations.”

Farida beamed. “Thank you so much.”

“Think nothing of it. It’ll give us a little time to catch up.”

Of course he’d be all for it. But then…maybe…it wouldn’t be so bad. Garrett seemed happy to have Farida back. Maybe things could be like they were before now that she was home.

Despite his anxiety about being around his uncle, Gabriel found himself smiling and laughing as he, Farida, and Garrett made a point of making supper together. It was…nice. Gabriel realized how much he’d been hoping for this. Maybe his uncle had just been bitter. Gabriel hadn’t exactly been a top-notch nephew, but…maybe it was okay now?

He even cautiously slipped in a question to Garrett without calling him “sir”.

Nothing bad happened.

His uncle just smiled and answered.

Gabriel found himself relaxing more and more as the night wore on.

Finally, everyone said good night, and made their way to their rooms. Garrett said he’d just sleep in the study for the night since it was a bit late to head out. The couch in there was comfortable enough.

That night, Gabriel found he wasn’t as afraid of going to sleep with his uncle present in the penthouse.

But he’d hoped for too much.

He only realized when he woke in the middle of the night with a hand wrapped around his throat and a very familiar scowl hovering above him.

“You’ve forgotten your lessons, boy,” Garrett growled. “Do not think for a moment that just because your mother has returned that we are a happy family. I’ll do the courteousy of keeping up the charade you started, but you are going to regret the choices you made tonight.” The hand squeezed tighter, and Gabriel brought his own hands up, trying to loosen the grip to no avail.

“Make a noise, and you’ll break down the fantasy you’ve let her have. You don’t want that, do you?”

Tears forming in his eyes, Gabriel shook his head “no” as best he could.

“Good.” And with that, Garrett began carving into his nephew’s skin.

Tears streaked down Gabriel’s face as pain flared on his legs and torso, but he kept quiet.

“Don’t make the same mistakes again,” Garrett warned. “Or I won’t be keeping up the act.” He stalked out of the room.

Gabriel slowly got up, wincing as his undamaged clothes rubbed against the freshly opened injuries.

The first aid kit in his bathroom wasn’t as well-stocked as he would’ve liked, but he made do with what he had. He then changed out of his now-bloody clothes. Not sure what to do with them, he left them in the bathtub. He’d figure it out later.

Unable to go back to sleep, Gabriel settled for going through various attacks Oliver had taught him. He was sore all over, but he pushed through it just like he always had.

The sun rose and he didn’t notice until he heard people up and walking around.

Gabriel took a deep breath and stepped out to greet his mom and uncle.

The first week was rough, but he somehow managed to get through it. Garrett was present much more often than he had been when it was just Gabriel living there. Thankfully, the man didn’t continue to live with them in the penthouse. He did, however, insist Gabriel resumed his training with Oliver. She put the boy through the ringer. Probably for having missed so much time after he moved out.

When Friday evening came and went, and Farida turned in for the night, Gabriel snuck out to go to the fight ring with Judd and Jim. He was still sore and tired, but he needed to let off some steam.

The door guy let the boy right in, recognizing him as one of the fighters. Gabriel sent a text to his friends. Judd responded, already there. Jim was on his way. That’s fine. Gabriel found Judd.

“Hey. Woah. You alright? You’re not looking so good…” the bigger boy commented.

Gabriel brushed it off. “Yeah. I just need something that’s the good kind of familiar tonight.”

Judd hesitated. “Okay. Hey, if you need to talk, you know we’re here, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Judd.” Gabriel went up and picked up a spot in the fights.

“Is that a good idea…?” Judd asked.

Just like Alex had. Gabriel was a bit tired of people asking him if his ideas were good. He was a bit tired in general. He ignored Judd.

Jim found them not too long before Gabriel’s fight.

“You’re sure about this? You just got shot like what…a week ago?” Jim asked.

“I’ve had worse. I’m fine,” Gabriel argued back.

“The hell do you mean you’ve had worse?” Jim was practically squeaking, trying to keep his voice low.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m only doing one fight anyway.”

“Okay, just…be careful.” He didn’t seem entirely convinced.

Gabriel heard his name called. He stepped up to the ring, staring down his opponent.

“Fight!” The announcer called, backing out.

Gabriel approached his opponent, and started the fight.

His opponent was small, but still bigger than him. The man ducked and dodged around Gabriel’s attacks. But he, like many others, didn’t know how to fight someone with two extra appendages. He took a bit longer than normal to size the boy up.

Usually, this would be to Gabriel’s benefit. But this time, his vision started going fuzzy. He shook his head to clear it, but it didn’t do much.

The man noticed, and took the opening, landing a hit to Gabriel’s stomach. Right on top of one of the gashes Garrett had given him at the start of the week.

Gabriel doubled over. A pair of fists came down in between his shoulder blades. Right on top of another freshly opened wound. This guy had very lucky placement. It knocked the boy to the ground. He only just managed to catch himself and roll out of the way before a kick knocked him out.

He pushed himself up, and caught a glimpse of his shirt. There were a couple fresh red spots. Not good.

The man confidently strode up, ready to keep going, but Gabriel was suddenly desprate to end the fight quickly. He swung, causing his opponent’s arms to fly up to defend his head, then feinted and kicked out, knocking the man to the ground. Another well-placed hit took the stunned man out.

The crowd cheered. Gabriel stood unsteadily. Everything was spinning. Wait…was it tilting? Muffled voices shouted something he didn’t quite catch, and he found himself being carried. Wait. When did that become a thing?

He was sore all over, but more so where his opponent had landed blows directly on top of the gashes.

Then, Gabriel blacked out.

When he woke up, he was in a hospital bed. He felt like crap.

From the feel of it, someone had redressed his injuries. Where he’d just put bandage pads, there was now actual gauze pad and medical tape.

Gabriel sat up slowly. He hissed at the sudden pain in his abdomen. Between the two injuries, it was still pretty sore. Something moved in his peripheral vision. He flinched away.

“Hey, it’s just me,” Alex soothed. “How do you feel?”

“I’ve had worse…” he answered quietly.

“Do you want me to ask for more painkillers or anything?”

“No. I’m fine.” He carefully relaxed against the bed.

“You don’t look it.”

He didn’t answer for a minute. “I’m…sorry I didn’t listen to you. You’re right. This was a bad idea.”

“It’s okay. I understand why you wanted to try. And you know we’re here for you if you need us. Just don’t strain yourself, okay?” Alex smiled softly.

Gabriel nodded.

“What do you want to do now? Do you want us to take you back?”

His hands clenched into fists. “…no. I…don’t think I can…”

Alex nodded. “Okay. Should we go get your mom?”

Gabriel nodded again.

“Alright. I’ll go let everyone know.”

“Everyone?”

“Jim and Judd left to get some breakfast. They’ve been here all night. Only left because I told them I’d keep an eye on you and call when you woke up.”

“Oh.” Gabriel was still tired. He laid back down on his side. Then remembered he would have to mentally prepare to tell his mom what had been going on while she was away. He curled in on himself. It stung a little, but he didn’t care. The whole situation was so messed up…

“Gabriel?” Alex said gently. “I’m going to step out and call Jim and Judd real quick, but I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”

He nodded.

“Get some rest. You’re safe here.”

“…thank you, Alex.”

She smiled and left the room.

Gabriel laid awake with his thoughts. They closed in on him like a pack of dogs, barking and biting and tearing. The room began to feel smaller and smaller, and his thoughts became louder. He curled up into a ball, ignoring the stinging of his wounds. His mind would quiet eventually. He just had to wait it out.

This time, he didn’t have to wait long.

A hand touched his arm, causing him to flinch. The hurricane in his brain quieted. He looked up.

Alex stood beside him, smiling softly. “Sorry. You seemed like you needed an interruption.”

He blinked. The light from the room’s window hit her in just a way…

He’d never considered describing anything, or anyone, as angelic before that moment.

“Thanks, Alex.” He allowed the tension to slowly start leaving his body. The bed was far more comfortable than it had been only minutes ago.

“‘Course.” Alex pulled her hand back.

Gabriel hesitated. “…why do you help me so much? I know it’s not easy.”

She sat back down in the chair she’d been occupying earlier, smiling. “You’re my friend. You may not make all the right decisions, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be there for you when you need someone.”

“…thanks, Alex.”

“‘Course!” Her smile was radiant. The room almost seemed brighter.

The door opened, and two people stepped in.

“Heeeeey, buddy. How’re you feeling?” Jim sounded like he was approaching a cornered animal. It was actually kind of hillarious.

Gabriel laughed. It hurt, but he couldn’t help it.

“…Little too much morphine?”

“He ain’t a rabid dog,” Judd was smiling in amusement.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t want to scare him. I felt like I kinda slammed the door open…” Jim flushed a little in embarassment.

“You’re fine,” Gabriel assured, still smiling. “I think I needed that.”

“Oh, hey we picked up some blueberry pancakes for ya while we were out. They’re a little warm.” Judd took out a to-go box from one of the nearby fast food places and put it on the table.

“Thanks. You didn’t have to.” Gabriel accepted the box, taking out one of the pancakes and taking a bite. After the week he’d had, it tasted a lot better than normal.

Judd shrugged. “Figured you’d be hungry. And I’ve heard hospital food ain’t great.”

“Thank you. And…thank you for getting me here. I know I’ve been stubborn lately. I’ll try to be more careful.” Gabriel’s wings shifted awkwardly.

“Don’t worry about it.” Judd grinned.

“We’re just glad you’re okay,” Jim assured. “But yeah, please be more careful.”

Alex perked up as if listening. “Your mom’s here. You want us to stay?”

Gabriel shook his head. “I’ll be alright. Thank you for staying as long as you did.”

“Sure thing.” Judd nodded, then turned to head out the door. He and Jim almost ran into Farida on their way out.

The woman paused. “Oh! Are you more of Gabriel’s friends?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m Judd. Nice to finally meet you.” He held out a hand, which Farida shook.

“Jim. Pleasure to meet you.” He shook her hand as well.

“We were just on our way out,” Alex said as she approached the door. “Gotta get homework done yet.”

“Don’t let me stop you. Thank you for taking care of Gabriel.” Farida smiled.

“Sure thing. We’ll leave ya be,” Judd answered. With that, the trio left.

“You’ve got some good friends.” Farida sat in the chair Alex had been occupying. “Now, can you please tell me what happened? They said you were pretty cut up…”

Gabriel’s stomach twisted into a knot. “I…” he sighed. “I need to be honest with you. I actually moved out of the penthouse a while ago. I’ve been living with Elaina and Seb.”

His mom blinked. “What? Why?”

“Garrett…he…he was nice for the first year, but…I-I don’t know what happened. My healing developed and he was suddenly a lot colder.”

“Oh, I think I know why…” the tone of voice was not promising. “I was going to tell you eventually, but your father had the same kind of ability. Only, the way he used it…I don’t know exactly what happened, but it wasn’t good. And he was going to use it on me. But when your uncle found out I was pregnant with you, he…killed your father. So he couldn’t hurt anyone else.”

Gabriel blinked. There was…a lot to unpack there. “You…knew? That this kind of thing could happen?”

“Not really. I didn’t know how bad it was. But…it’s not surprising.” She sighed. “I’m sorry I’ve been making you stay there this last week. I didn’t realize it was bad…”

He suddenly didn’t feel guilty about needing to have the conversation anymore. “Bad? Mom it’s not just him ignoring me. They said I’m cut up? He did that the first night we were back.”

Farida looked away, unable to look him in the eyes.

“Did you know he runs the city? He’s the head of the underground. He’s had me doing some of his dirty work for years. And if I don’t meet his standards in something, this is what happens. I…” he froze, reeling it in again. He couldn’t go off. It wasn’t her fault. “I’m sorry, mom. I know it’s not your fault. I just…even just this week…pretending everything was fine the whole time…I didn’t want to just dump everything on you like that…”

Farida was quiet a moment. “I’m so sorry…I knew it was possible you could develop your father’s ability. I just didn’t know…or I guess…I didn’t want to believe that your uncle would react that way.” She shook her head. “I didn’t have anyone else I felt I could trust with you. But all these years…I’m glad I have such a strong son.” She smiled softly.

Gabriel couldn’t help it. A knot rose in his throat and his eyes watered. “I’m glad you’re back, mom.”

Farida gently pulled him into a hug. He buried his face in her shoulder, clinging to her shirt.

“Do you think Elaina has room for one more?” she asked.

“Doesn’t hurt to ask.”

#oc stuff #whump #whumpee #whump community #whump writing #i may be too mean to him

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coldtonki · 2 years

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rowanaelinn · 2 years

Text

Illicit Affairs - Chapter Fourty

Masterlist

Chapter fourty…. WHAT THE FUCK??? Thank you so much to everyone who is reading, you guys mean so much to me❤️

Warnings: angst, tears, lots of curse words, physical violence, very dark thoughts | Word Count: 7,000

Time stopped, so did her mind as Aelin felt as if she was falling from her chair. Both her parents’ gazes were on Rowan, Rowan who didn’t look away, who stared at her father with no signs of apparent fear. His back was straight, chin high.

She felt a heavy gaze settle on her, and when Aelin looked away from her boyfriend, it was to find her uncle with his eyes on her. What was he doing here? If her parents wanted to settle this matter, if they truly know… Why would they allow someone else to witness that?

She tried to look at any hint in his eyes, trying to look for what he was feeling or thinking, but she couldn’t read him. She looked away, her uncle wasn’t the man she should focus on. No matter that she had seen a hint of shame on his features.

Aelin laughed. A loud, amused sound escaped her lips as she laughed. It sounded all shades of wrong, the anxiety gripping her stomach enough to almost make her sick. But, Aelin laughed. And as she did, everyone’s eyes snapped to hers.

Under the table, Rowan’s leg found hers. It was as if he was screaming down that shared bond, I am here. Don’t worry, I am here.

But she was here, too. This was her parents, her mess. Why would he have to be the one to deal with it? She could also protect him.

“You should have been a writer, dad,” Aelin said, her laughter fading and yet, she still kept a smile on her face. “With such a wild imagination, you would have sold millions of books.”

His gaze snapped to her and her spine straightened, her chin a little higher. He cocked his head to the side, “Are you going to deny it?”

“Of course,” she said as fast as she could. “As if I’d ever—”

“Stay out of this,” her mother interrupted, edge to her voice. “We have proofs.”

Proof. Proof. Proof. Could she be bluffing? Tricking Aelin and Rowan into admitting when in reality they had nothing. It was what Aelin would have done, and she had been somewhat raised by these people. But at the same time… Her mother never acted without anything backing her up.

Aelin cocked her head to the side, shifting into her seat as she looked into her mother’s eyes. She found no warmth there, and if she thought her uncle was the perfect portrayal of disappointment… She was wrong. Her mother was. “How about you stay out of business that don’t concern you?”

“That doesn’t concern us?” She hissed. “One of our doctor and professor is a predator and to make things even better, our daughter threw herself into his bed.”

“A predator?” Aelin spat. “Damn, mom. We all knew you certainly wouldn’t win an award for the best mom of the year, but just a small reminder that your daughter has been an adult for six years now.”

Anything on her, Aelin could take. If her parents wanted to believe she was a slut, that she was easy and if they wanted to be disappointed in her… Whatever they thought of her, she could take it.

But calling Rowan a predator… Aelin wouldn’t let anyone get away with that.

“Aelin,” her father’s deep voice cut in, “We are not—”

“No,” Rowan spoke for the first time. “I think you sat by enough times for the past years as your wife emotionally abused Aelin. So, maybe you should do what you are good at and let Aelin deal with it the way she wishes to.”

“You have no right to speak to me this way,” her father grilled though his teeth, grabbing the arm of his chair, knuckles turning white. “You have no rights to comment on my family while you are shattering it.”

“Emotionally abuse?” Her mother snarled, her eyes wide as if she had no idea what Rowan was talking about. “I think you are speaking a bit too freely when your life if at stake, Dr. Whitethorn.”

“And I think you’re hiding too much behind your ranks.”

“Doctor,” Aelin breathed. He couldn’t pick up a fight with them now, hadn’t he heard her mother? This was an indirect threat to fire him.

“Doctor?” Her mother repeated, she chuckled. “Don’t feel shy, Aelin. You can call him Rowan; you have nothing left to hide.” She said, taunting and completely butchering Rowan’s name on her venomous tongue.

“Shut up, mom,” she snapped. Aelin didn’t want to pick up fights tonight, it didn’t mean it was truly tempting.

“Don’t talk to me this way.”

“Then learn how to respect me first.”

“Respect you?” She sneered. “In what world are you living to think I have anything but respect for my own daughter?”

Aelin laughed again, and this time she didn’t fake it. She slapped a hand over her mouth, her laugh uncontrollable. “I’m sorry,” she managed to say between two laughs.

“Aelin,” her father reprimanded her. “This is a serious matter we are trying to discuss.”

She let out a breath, managing to calm down. “Sure, I know that. This was a very serious laugh.”

Aelin didn’t look down when her mother glared at her. She squared her shoulder up and gave back everything her mother sent her way. “How did you know?”

“Does it matter?” Her father asked, edge to his voice. His gaze stayed on Rowan. With a voice as cold as death he said, “I trusted you with my daughter. When people started voicing their concern, I shut them off. Rowan wouldn’t do that, I thought. Aelin is a better girl than that, all that bullshit. And now, here we are.”

Aelin swallowed, “Sometimes you end up disappointed by people. It sucks, right?”

She looked at Rowan, and it was so hard not to reach out to him. To not grab his hand and pull him into her arms. I’m sorry.

He hasn’t punched me yet, he seemed to answer. Do you think I’m lucky?

And I’m the menace? She could see the corner of his lips tip up, but he schooled his expression quick enough for no one else to see it. Do you want us to leave?

He looked at her father for a second before turning his gaze back on her. I don’t think it would do any good.

“You could be fired,” her mother said, breaking whatever bubble Rowan and Aelin and put themselves into. Aelin’s head snapped to her left, while Rowan went utterly still.

“No.”

“Ael-“

“I said no,” she snapped. She looked at her father, he had to hear her out. “If you fire him, you will lose the only alive child you have.”

Aelin felt as if she had dropped a bomb in the room. The air was chill, everyone’s bodies stiffened.

Her mother slowly turned her gaze onto her, “Are you blackmailing us into accepting your irresponsibly?”

“I am not being irresponsible! I am living for myself for the first time in years, I am making my own damn choices, and I’m not sorry if you don’t like it. I will not change back to the carbon copy of a dead girl.”

“Aelin!” Her mother hissed; Aelin barely flinched. She could hurt people, if it meant getting what she wanted in the end.

“You are ruining the perfect life we have built for you,” her father said.

“Have you ever thought that I didn’t want that so-called perfect life?”

“Those are the words of a child who throws herself on alcohol, parties and men at the slightest opportunity,” Evalin spat with years of hidden disgust finally surfacing. “Should I remind you that not so long ago you had a drink spiked because you went out to cope.”

“Evalin…” Her uncle warned, talking for the first time since her father dropped the vocal bomb earlier.

She turned to her uncle, “Gavriel, tell them. You’re the one family member at this table who have always cared. You saw me these last few months, tell them how much progress I have made lately. It’s all thanks to him!”

He took a deep breath, his chest rising and stilling for a few seconds. “I can’t, Aelin, I’m sorry.”

What… Why the hell. She looked around the room, it had to be a nightmare. Gavriel, out of everyone, always had her back. He was her uncle, the side of the family that had been there for her.

“Why the hell not?”

“Because he is not here as your uncle,” Rowan said, voice deep and laced with anger. “Am I wrong?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

Uncle Gavriel pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, you are correct. I am here as both the hospital and school’s attorney.”

“Why?” She snapped.

“To fire me,” Rowan answered, and the silence that followed him was louder than anything she had heard before.

To fire him.

To fire Rowan.

Her bottom lip was quivering as she turned her gaze on her parents, her lips parted as she fought the tears. “You did it on purpose?”

Her mother raised a blonde eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“You specifically asked for Gavriel here because of me.”

She let out a forced chuckle, “We asked Gavriel to be here because he is family and knows how to deal with you.”

“No. You did it because it would hurt me.”

“And why would I do that, Aelin?”

“Because you’re a miserable bitc—”

Aelin hadn’t finished her thought before her head snapped to the side, her left cheek tingling and burning. She could feel the handprint on her skin, and if she looked into a mirror her cheek would be red.

A loud creaking noise was head through the room, and a second later there was a warm hand on her shoulder. Her head was still thrown to the side, more shocked than anything else.

“Evalin!” Aelin’s father hissed, and when she looked at him to was to find him standing, so was Gavriel. The hand on her shoulder squeezed it, and she looked up to find Rowan behind her. “What is wrong with you?”

She stood by his side, and he gently grabbed her chin, turning her head to the side. “Are you okay?” He breathed the question, she found it in herself to nod. He glared at her mother, “Every time I think you cannot become a worse mother, you blow my expectations away.”

Aelin couldn’t say anything. She… She hadn’t been expecting it. She hadn’t expected what she had said either, but it felt good to say it. Just not the slap.

Her mother had slapped her. Maybe Aelin shouldn’t be so surprised, maybe she had deserved it for the word she used, and yet her entire body was still frozen.

“Do not talk to me about raising children when you are a single fath—”

And this time, it was her mother’s face that was snapped to the side, a loud slapping sound echoing through the room. Aelin’s hand tingled, a red mark left on her mother’s cheek.

Oh. Gods.

Had she just hit her mother?

“Do not say a word about his daughter. Don’t even think about her.”

“Can we take a step back?” Gavriel asked, putting himself between her and her mother. Her father was the perfect portrayal of shock and surprise, he kept looking between her mother and her, as if there was anything to figure out. If he was wondering when his family went to hell, Aelin would tell him that he is twenty-four years too late.

“Oh, fuck you,” Aelin spat her venom at her uncle. He wasn’t in her corner, in her agenda tonight it marked him almost as an enemy.

Her mother didn’t listen to her uncle, she chuckled darkly, “Grew attached, Aelin?”

“Take away my job,” Rowan said, still standing behind her. Still providing comfort without allowing her space to hide behind her. He was pushing her into settling this matter on her own, when he could do it himself. “Pull any string that make you feel powerful, but if you ever put a hand on Aelin or mention my child again, I will destroy you.”

Aelin had no doubts he would. If only for Helia, Rowan would do anything. He might not be married to the chief of the hospital, might not have a place on the school board, but he would find a way.

“Tonight was to avoid further complications,” her father said. “Not to create them.”

“Your wife hit me, and you call it a complication?”

He glared at his wife, “Right now, I am trying to protect you. Then I will deal with it.”

Aelin let out a sour, dead laugh. “The only threat here is you. The two of you.”

He looked taken aback by that, as if he didn’t expect it. They had talks about his involvement in her life, how hurt she had been by it. He had tried to mend the bridges, and yet… Maybe he hadn’t understood how much she resented him and her mother deep inside.

There was this rotten, shameful part of her that hated them. And today, today this part of her was coming out of its shell.

“I am deeply sorry you are feeling this way, darling,” he said, and Aelin could almost believe him. Almost. “I want to fix it, but first, my job is to protect you.”

“There is nothing to protect me from! How many times do I need to repeat it until you finally listen to me?”

“Aelin,” he took a deep breath, probably losing his patience. “Leave this room.”

“Excuse me?” She hissed. “No.”

“I am going to deal with this mess and then we will fix whatever happened to this goddamn family. But in the meanwhile, I need you to stay away so I can deal with this mess.”

Aelin snorted, “Are you really questioning what happened to us?”

He sighed, a sad look in his eyes. “No. No, I don’t.”

Fuck him. Fuck everyone in this room, except Rowan. She hated them. If he was truly worried for her, if he truly wanted to protect her, he would allow Rowan to stay in her life. He would stay away from her and the new family she made.

He took a step in Rowan’s direction, standing face to face. Rowan stood a little taller, but not from much. Rowan threw a glance in her direction, one that was unreadable. He hadn’t talked much tonight, and she couldn’t know what he was thinking. He was leaving her space, but it was hard to deal with this situation, she wouldn’t say no to a little bit of help.

“I am going to talk to you from a father to another, not as the chief,” her father started. “Make your daughter your priority.”

Before he could keep going, Rowan growled, “Don’t speak a word about my daughter.”

“She is a sweet kid, make her your priority,” her father kept going, barely flinching at Rowan’s tone. “And while you work on your child, you leave mine alone. Whatever weird, twisted fantasy you had, this ends tonight. This is going to be your only warning, Whitethorn, and it only exists because I respect your work as a doctor. But if you don’t listen… If you don’t, then it is not only your job in Doranelle you are losing. It’s the chance to get another one anywhere else on the planet. I will ruin you, Whitethorn, and I will enjoy it.”

This couldn’t be her passive father talking, surely, a demon had possessed him. Maybe it was all a nightmare, and she would wake up soon.

“All of that based on what?” Aelin asked. “You have nothing except people having concerns. It doesn’t work as proof.”

“Except when one of these numerous people provide us with evidence,” her mother answered. “Your father received an anonymous email a week ago; someone didn’t want to stand for your debauchery. We have enough photos and videos to ruin three lives tonight, so Dr. Whitethorn better make the good choice,” she added with a bitter smile.

Three lives.

Rowan’s.

Aelin’s.

And Helia’s.

Because as pure as her love with Rowan was, it was easy to change the details. Everything about their relationship screamed dirty, it screamed unappropriated. Doranelle wasn’t a big city, rumors ran. If this relationship came out under the wrong light, it could impact Helia’s life.

Rowan would have to move. Away from her grandparents, from her uncles and from her cousin. This was unfair, unfair that her future was being talked about in this room while the little girl wasn’t even aware that such a conversation was taking place.

Not that Aelin wanted Helia anywhere near her parents of the chaos that this evening turned into. She would have taken the little girl away from this mess minutes ago, when it all started going to hell.

She tried to catch Rowan’s gaze but he never looked away. But the longer he was silent, the longer he stayed still, Aelin’s worry grew.

To whatever end, he had told her when his friends found out about them, surely tonight was an end he considered when making such claim. Surely, he was just finding it in himself to not use violence on her father.

“You will lose me,” Aelin threatened. “If Rowan walks out of that door without a job, you will officially childless.”

She meant it, too. It wouldn’t be too different than before, she always felt parentless. Things wouldn’t change for her, only for them. They couldn’t claim her as their own anymore, couldn’t talk about her to the social events they loved so much…

“I will leave med school,” she said, she needed them to change their mind about firing Rowan. Even if there was nothing in his contract that forbade him to sleep with his boss’s daughter, it was in the rules of the school that all student and teacher fraternization were prohibited. As for his place as a doctor, she was sure the traitor in this room could find a legal loophole to fire him without causing any damage to the hospital. “You will lose everything you have left. And don’t pretend you are doing this for me, you aren’t. If it was a question of protection, Rowan would have been fired a week ago, you just want to control.”

“You are making a fool of yourself, Aelin, you are—”

“Evalin,” Rhoe growled. “Stop this. Aelin, this is not control, I am doing you a favor.”

“A favor?” She spat. “Do you have any—”

“Stop fighting, this is useless,” Rowan said. Well, sure, bird boy. He does know how to stop Aelin in her tracks. His fists were clenched at his side, breathing uneven and his voice was rougher than she was used to hear it. It pushed her on an uneven footing, unsure of what to expect. “I’m leaving. Thank you, chief, for the opportunity to keep my place at the hospital.”

“What?” Aelin breathed, her shoulder sagging. Was he leaving because this conversation wasn’t going anywhere?

His gaze turned on her, and Aelin’s heart missed a beat at the determination and devastation in his eyes, though his walls built back up a second later, leaving his face perfectly unreadable.

“Ro,” she whispered, grabbing his hand.

Their skin had barely touched for a second before he shot back his hands away from her, the action leaving her cold. She looked won for a second, he had rejected her touch. He hadn’t done that since… Since the first time they kissed.

Even in fights, Rowan always touched a part of her.

But not tonight.

“It’s over,” he said, his voice fierce and strong, with no hesitation. No signs of lies.

Over.

As in… They were over? He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. They were Rowan and Aelin; they would always stay together. They had to, because what else would she do?

He promised… He promised he wouldn’t leave her.

That he would be the one to stay.

“No,” she shook her head. “No, it’s not.”

He nodded, “It is.” Rowan turned to her parents, and it seemed to take him a lot of efforts to say, “Thank you for the invitation.”

Why was he doing this? This… This was a nightmare. It had to be.

“You made the good choice,” her father said, not offering to guide Rowan to the door. “For everyone involved.”

“Fuck you!” Aelin spat. This was his fault; this entire evening was his fault as much as it was the woman’s beside him. And Aelin hated them both.

Rowan grabbed his vest that was on the couch and turned to her. She could see nothing of the lover she had learned to love these past few months, she only saw coldness and the distance he was putting between them.

She didn’t think it really registered in her mind.

Rowan hadn’t chosen her. He walked away, the same way everyone had.

Rowan was not the exception; he was just a hypocrite who followed the rule. All these late-night talks, all the kisses and promises, they meant nothing to him.

She meant nothing to him.

“Don’t complicate things,” he told her, “What’s done is done.”

And then, he was leaving. All she could do was see him walk away, with every step he took, Aelin was falling more and more.

Leaving, he was leaving. He didn’t even look back, there was nothing in his eyes that reminded her of the man she loved.

An illusion, that was what it was.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and jerked away from the touch, disgusted to feel her uncle’s hand on her.

Aelin couldn’t cry, she didn’t find it in herself. No, she was… she was angry. Angry at herself for believing the sweet words of a man. Angry at the man she loved for being no different than the rest of the world. Angry at the entire world.

“Stay away from me,” she hissed. “All these years ago, you should have stayed away from mine and Aedion’s life. We never asked you to step in.”

It was so, so unfair to say. She saw the way he recoiled at her words, and she felt nothing.

Good thing if he hurt. He had betrayed her, too.

“Aelin,” her father breathed, and she turned her hateful gaze on both her parents.

She wanted to snort at that. They weren’t parents, they were parasites.

“I am happy Celaena is dead,” she said, her voice cold as death. Her uncle took a sharp intake of breath while her parents were still as dead. “She is the lucky one, she’d finally gotten rid of the parents she despised. Yeah, mommy. She hated you, she had her bag ready to run away, you know?” Her mother’s lips quivered; a hand laid over her heart as tears pooled in her eyes. “She stayed because I was stupid enough to love you. I hope that, in your rotten insides, you are hurting. I hope that when you finally have the decency to grieve the daughter you left alone in a grave thousands of miles away from here, you will find no consolation or absolution. I hope that until the day you finally die, you will be in pain and find no happiness. You deserve none of it.”

She was crying then. Her mother was crying for the first time in nine years. Aelin laughed; it wasn’t in amusement. No, it tasted sour on her tongue. She did have a perfect timing.

“Get out of my house,” she said, her voice shaking as she held herself with a chair. Aelin had half a mind to push her, just so she could visually see her mother lay as low as Aelin had felt her entire life.

But she had better things to do.

“Gladly, Evalin. Don’t bother calling, you are dead to me.”

Aelin turned around and didn’t look back, rushing for the outside. Her hells clicking the cobblestone, her ankles unstable as she rushed to the parking behind the house.

She had half a mind to be relieved when she saw Rowan, hands holding him against his black sports car. His breathing was heavy, and she almost stopped in her tracks as she watched him. He hadn’t heard her coming, probably too lost in his own thoughts.

He hadn’t left. He was still there, was he waiting for her? Had it been a ploy to deceive her family? So they could keep their secret going? Her anger faded, hope blooming in her chest.

Of course, Rowan wouldn’t leave. She was stupid to even think it possible.

“Ro?” She asked, voice barely loud enough for him to hear.

But he did. His back stiffened, his hands falling back against his body. He didn’t turn around, still looked in the opposite direction. She swallowed her anxiety before repeating his name.

He looked back, then. She did stop when she saw how dark his eyes were, when she saw no warmth on his face, it was as if her heart broke. Again. “Baby?” She asked.

“Don’t call me that,” he said, voice short. “Stay away, Aelin. Whatever this was between us, it’s over.”

“Whatever it was?” She hissed. “Are you serious? I hope you are fucking joking, Whitethorn, because—”

“Because what?” he snapped, opening the door of his car. “The way I call it doesn’t matter. We are done, Aelin, be mature about it.”

“Don’t treat me like a kid!” she grilled through her teeth. “Don’t you fucking dare after everything.”

He looked at her, not opening his mouth once.

This was real. Rowan, he was throwing her away. And maybe it would hurt less if she didn’t see the way the corner of his lips quivered, the sign that he was locking his emotions deep, deep inside.

But Aelin was too angry, too angry to really see that. She was hurting, and she wanted the world to hurt too.

“Helia deserves a better father than the miserable bastard you are,” she said, her tone too even and calm for the things she was saying. “I hope the moment she leaves your house you will be alone. No one would even want to be involved with someone as pathetic as you are.”

Two seconds. He looked at her for two more seconds before he closed his door and started his car, driving away.

Gone. He was gone, her happiness and hopes with him.

She was no more than a dark, empty shell now.

—

“Get out of my car,” she said, her voice lacking the bite she wished for. She couldn’t stop the tears from steaming down her face, though she should be celebrating the fact that she wasn’t sobbing.

She wanted to, though.

“You are not in the good state of mind to drive,” her father’s kind voice echoed through the car. “Spend the night.”

“Never.”

He sighed, “Then let me drive you to your apartment. I don’t want you to drive when you are this way.”

“This is your fault,” she said, finally looking his way. “If I’m this way, it is your fault.”

She was talking about tonight, but not only.

“I was protecting you tonight,” he said. “Maybe one day you will see it, but I only want you to be safe. If you hate me for it, so be it. But I will sleep better at night knowing that my daughter is safe.”

“There was nothing to protect me from!” she yelled, a newfound energy spreading through her. “There was nothing malicious between us, only pure, unconditional love. There was no abuse of power or shits like that. He was there for me when no one was. He fixed what you broke.”

He let out a shaky breath, looking ahead. “I know more than you think I do.”

She snorted, “If you did, you wouldn’t have just ruined my life.”

“There were records, too, in that email,” he said. “In one of them, I had to listen to you calling him professor during sexual intercourse and him telling you to do it again. I cut the audio off the moment I realized what it what, but I still heard that. So, don’t bullshit me with this no power imbalance.”

She couldn’t even find it in herself to blush at it, she felt so, so humiliated. Her lips parted, quivering and tears gathering faster into her eyes. “This was not taken with anyone’s fucking consent, dad. I am sure it was clear, isn’t it supposed to be your fucking priority?”

“You think I don’t know that?” he snapped. “I already have someone on it, and the moment I find the person who has done that, they are done for. But it doesn’t mean I cannot also focus on the creep that turned around my child.”

“If you truly thought he was a creep, he would have been gone from your hospital a week ago. You just hate that I live my own life with my own choices. You hate that I’m not her.”

“I don’t,” he said. “I always loved you for who you are, Aelin, and if you finally found your own identity, I am proud and happy for you. I might not be a good father, but I have never wanted you to replace Celaena. I have no right to be, but I’m still am. Tonight, even if it led you to cutting me off the moment I step out of that car, it was worth it. Because at least at the end of the day, my girl is protected.”

She had the urge to pull out the hair on her head, she needed the pain inside to stop. “I. Am. Not. In. Danger.” She hissed through her teeth. “What you heard, I was the one starting it. I was the one turned out by it, as embarrassing as it is to tell you this. I met Rowan when he wasn’t even my professor, dad! There is no weird powerplay, and you would know that if you bothered listening to me!”

“Then when, Aelin?” He raised an eyebrow. He looked exhausted, or maybe heartbroken. She didn’t want to wonder about his feelings. “Because you were with living thousands of miles away from here before the semester began, and before that you started dating Chaol when you were sixteen. So, tell me, when did you meet him? Was it before you were legal?”

“At my twentieth’s birthday,” she said, this day still as clear as water in her mind. “In this very house, I was so deep in pain and then I met him. Dad, I hate my birthday. But that day, I didn’t. I felt something for him from the moment he made me laugh on the day I spent crying. Yes, we didn’t start something until he became my professor, but our story started long before that.” Her voice was laced with pain, every word struggling to come out. “Not that it matters now.”

Her father was quiet for a moment before saying, “He was married back then, Aelin. With a baby on the way, do you think it helps his case? He shouldn’t have given you any attention that day.”

“His marriage was unhappy, dad! His wife she was… She was awful to him, what should have he done? Look away from someone he clearly liked because of someone who didn’t respect him?”

“Who told you about his wife? Him? Because if so, you cannot trust him. Men would—”

“He never spoke ill of her,” Aelin stopped him. “He always blamed himself for things that were never his fault. I am the one who came to the conclusion that she was not a good wife.”

“Aelin…” He breathed, looking away for a second before looking at him again. “This is such a messy situation.”

Her voice was tearing and biting as she said, “Which is why you should have spoken to me first. You should have talked to me about this instead of cornering me and breaking what I loved the most.”

“You’re impossible to talk to, Aelin,” he said. “I know you always trusted Gavriel more, so I went to him for his help the moment I got the email. He said you have been lying for months, that you got into fights with Aedion you didn’t even try to fix. He said your roommates barely ever saw you, that you entirely closed yourself around Rowan. Even Aedion, who would support you for everything, you lied to him. I am hearing you when you say this relationship was not as problematic as I thought at first, but even if it was and I had talked to you about it, you wouldn’t have let me help. You never do, and I know this is my fault. I was only trying to fix this entire mess I created in the first place.”

“Fuck you,” Aelin said, but it lacked any heat. Her hands were gripping the steering wheel, her head falling onto it as she finally let out the sobs she’d been holding on.

He pretended to love her, he pretended to know her, when he didn’t.

She felt ashamed, and wronged, and angry and sad. She felt horrible.

“I know you hate me, the same way your sister did maybe even worse,” he said, and there was no mistaking the hint of sadness laced though his words. “But I need you to know that I love you. There is nothing I can do to redeem myself, but I still want to try. I will be divorcing your mother, this was decided the moment she hit you. I’m late, I know, but if one day you want me around, I’ll be there.”

“Get out,” she managed to let out between her sobs. “Get out of my car.”

Yes, he was too late. He had needed the physical violence to decide himself, as if her mother hadn’t made Aelin feel lower than hell for years. As if it erased his own absence from her life.

“Aelin?”

“What?”

“He only kept his job because I saw how happy you looked with him and his daughter. Otherwise, you are right, he would have been gone a week ago. But I wanted to let him a chance for his daughter, because you seemed to love her very much.”

Helia.

Aelin would never see Helia again, would never hold her in her arms anymore. There would be no princess movies, no crying in the car when they saw a stray dog in the street, no more bedside stories.

And just as Aelin started to feel as if Helia was her own, her daughter, she’d been ripped away from her.

She didn’t only mourn her boyfriend, the man she thought she would marry. She also had to mourn the little girl Aelin fell for in another way. A purer kind of way.

It was so, so ironic knowing how bad Aelin was at grieving.

“Leave, please,” she begged, voice breaking. She didn’t want him around. Now that it was there, her hate persisted.

She was grateful for the protection he allowed Helia; she truly was. But she wouldn’t kiss his feet for it or thank him. And if he was waiting for that, he could wait a long, long while.

“Don’t stay alone,” he told her before looking at her one last time for a long while, and then he was gone.

As were everyone else.

Nine years ago, Aelin lost her sister.

That same day, she lost what she had left of the parents she made up in her mind.

For years, she lost herself. Only to then lose her hopes of a family of her own a week ago.

And just now, Aelin lost the love of her life.

Was keeping going still even worth it?

The scream, laced with a broken cry, she let out was enough to have her throat burning. Her sobs wouldn’t slow down, not as she was free-falling into the unknown.

Maybe nothing was worth fighting for anymore, maybe she wasn’t made to live this life, because she wasn’t strong enough for it. She couldn’t fight it, couldn’t control it.

Shame curled in her guts as she found herself, for one short second, feeling jealous of Celaena.

Celaena wasn’t suffering now, no, she was at peace. Resting.

Aelin would give anything for that feeling, if only for a few seconds. She wanted this crushing weight to be lifted off her shoulders.

“Oh, gods,” she cried. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t be jealous of Celaena, she couldn’t. This was not right.

She took a deep breath; she refused thinking that way. She refused. This wasn’t her anymore. She could fall low, but never this low. Not again.

With shaky hands and eyes full of tears, Aelin started driving. She shouldn’t, she knew that. She wasn’t in the right state of mind for this, and yet she still drove. At first, she had no idea where to go.

She couldn’t go to her apartment, not when she felt as if someone was watching her every move.

Somehow, someone had gotten an access to Rowan’s office. And many, other places if Helia was in these pictures. Oh, gods. As if things weren’t already as bad as they could be.

She didn’t want anyone’s pity, didn’t know if she could bear it. There was only one place she was sure to find someone like that. Her tear flow barely slowed by the time she parked in front of the house, one she had been to only a handful of times.

If she didn’t get out of her car now, she knew she would leave. She knew she would stay alone, and she knew she wasn’t going to do anything good for herself.

For a second, it was tempting.

The next second, Aelin was out of the car. Her fist was shaking as she knocked on the door three times. There was no answer.

Was he working tonight? She didn’t see his car, but he had a garage. She knocked louder on the door, praying every god that existed to let him be home. She didn’t know what she could do to herself if he wasn’t.

The door opened, and she barely notice how he was dressed in nightwear and his long black hair was tied in a bun, his eyes tired. She’d interrupted his sleep. Her sobs rushed back as soon as he opened the door, as soon as he laid eyes on her. “I’m sorry, I needed—”

“Come in,” he said, opening his door wider. Aelin did, the warmth of the room so at odds with how cold she felt, how shaky her limbs were. He closed the door behind her, and she startled.

“Has anyone you don’t trust been here?” She asked, she couldn’t help it. She needed to know.

Thankfully, he didn’t ask any questions. “No.”

She nodded, crossing her arms to get some warmth into her veins. Good, that was good.

“Do you want me to call Rowan?”

“No,” she snapped, faster than she thought possible. “Please, don’t.”

Lorcan reached out for a sweater hanging on the other side of his door and handed it to her, she rushed to put it over her thin dress. She used the sleeves to wipe away her tears, before remembering she had worn make-up. His grey sleeves were stained with black now. “Shit, I’m so—”

“Stop apologizing.”

“Aelin?” A faint voice asked from behind. She turned around, finding Elide walking down the stairs in a rush. She was only wearing a shirt, though it covered her knees. It probably was one of Lorcan’s. “What happened?”

Aelin couldn’t stay silent, not as Elide didn’t let her a choice and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a warm hug. Aelin cried then, her arms around Elide’s shoulders as she sobbed. “Someone’s been stalking us, now my parents know about Ro and I,” she said, out of breath. Her voice broke as she said, “Rowan broke up with me.”

For a long moment Elide said nothing, neither did Lorcan. They stayed silent, Aelin crying in Elide’s arms. She had no idea what else to do, what she would do now.

“I will make some tea.”

She felt Elide nod, and she asked, “What can we do for you, Ae?”

It didn’t take long for Aelin to come up with an answer, “I need it to stop, Elide. It’s too much right now.”

“It’s going to be okay,” she breathed, her arms tightening around her. She only let go of her when tea was ready, Aelin wasn’t thirsty, but she was so cold she would take anything else.

There were three cups of tea ready on the kitchen island, one with two pills next to it. Lorcan nodded, “If you want, these can make you sleep a few hours.”

She had asked for things to stop, after all. She didn’t voice it, but Aelin was thankful. She took the two pills and swallowed them dry. Better be sleeping than think of everything that had just happened.

••••••

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @elentiyawhitethorn // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @danibutterr // @endlessdaydream // @thegreyj // @gracie-rosee // @acreativelydifferentlove // @cretaceous-therapod // @louphantomdragon // @mis-lil-red // @backtobl4ck // @whoever-you-choose-to-love // @lemonade-coolattas // @mad-madeline-ace // @the-introverted-bibliophile // @leiawritesstories // @emilyoftheshadows // @anniesbookshelf // @rainbowcheetah512 // @astra-ad-mare // @story-scribbler // @superspiritfestival // @wordsafterhours // @rowaelinrambling // @black-daisy-water // @fireheart-violet // @livsdriverslicense // @charlizeed // @ladykreads // @mariamuses // @autumnbabylon // @justreadertings

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin galathynius #illicit affairs

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princehrry-writings · 3 years

Text

Who's Chris Evans?

hey guys!! i've had this in my drafts for ages and i just finished it so here you go!!!!!

warnings: maybe a swear? revealing a relationship... idk. it's just fluffy

wordcount: 1284

masterlist

you're on the late late show and you're also married to chris.

“When did you and Chris first meet?”

James Corden leaned in a little as you thought back to the first time you ever met the man in question.

“Y/n, Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan are here to see the show tonight. Do you want me to bring them backstage?” Your tour manager asked, walking with you as you went to take your mark.

“Sebastian Stan is here?” You stopped walking, eyes blown wide. Sebastian Stan as in… you’re favorite character from Gossip Girl… was here? At your show?

“And Chris Evans, yes.” He said.

“Who’s Chris Evans?” You asked, continuing on your way backstage so you could walk up the stairs onto the stage.

“You know that new comic book movie, Captain America? He’s playing Captain America.” He explained and it clicked. You had seen the advertisements about the new movie and the preview clip at the end of the Iron Man movie.

Wow, they were here? That’s crazy.

“Yeah, bring them back!” You said right as you were running out onto the stage, your first song beginning.

* .

Once the show was over, you came backstage, prepared to sit down and chill out. Walking into your dressing room where your mom, manager, and a few crew members where, you flopped on the couch, completely exhausted.

The door opening didn’t catch your attention. Your tour manager walking in didn’t catch your attention. But hearing him clear his throat and introduce the two people he brought with him certainly did.

“Y/n, this is Chris and Sebastian!” He said and you shot up out of your seat, extending your hand to shake. A smile graced your face as you looked at the two very attractive men standing before you.

“Hi! I’m Y/n, it’s really nice to meet you guys!” You said, feeling your heart skip a couple beats.

Introductions were made and you all sat down, having a conversation, laughing at jokes and becoming closer than you thought possible for one night.

“Oh, I should take this…” Sebastian trailed off. Before he left, you caught sight of the name on his screen and saw it was Leighton Meester. You tried not to freak out because she is your absolute favorite character on Gossip Girl.

It was just you and Chris left. He moved a little closer to you but you didn’t think anything of it. All night, you had felt a spark between the two of you but you didn’t think he would feel the same way so you kind of just brushed it off. That is until he speaks up after a moment of silence.

“You know, Y/n… I’m gonna kick myself if I don’t do this. I think you’re really cool and I was wondering if maybe you’d want to grab dinner sometime or something?”

“Yeah, he asked me out and honestly the rest is history. We’ve been together ever since!” You finished your story, hearing the crowd begin to cheer.

“That was how long ago now?” He followed up.

“That was uh… that was 11 years ago. Damn.”

“So, you’ve been tied down for 11 years now and nobody’s known?” You giggle as the crowd gasps and laughs, nodding your head. You look over to the wings of the set and see Chris with a beaming smile on his face, waiting for his cue to come out.

“Yeah! It hasn’t been easy but it’s been nice to have a place I could escape to. I’ve seen so many great things be torn apart by the media and I didn’t want my relationship to be added to that list, so we just chose not to make it public knowledge.”

“How did you manage that?”

“There was a lot of going in through back doors and leaving the house in different cars just to go to the same place. A lot of “no pictures please” and “don’t post any of this.” Like I said, it hasn’t been easy.” You sighed, spinning the ring on your finger as a comfort tactic.

“We actually have Chris here, if he would like to come on out and join Y/n on the couch!” The man announced, crowd erupting into loud cheers and screams. He comes out from behind the curtain with that same smile on his face, waving to the crowd and the cameras.

You stood up to greet him with a smile and a kiss.

“Hi baby,” He smiled at you, pulling you into him tightly, pressing a tender kiss to your lips before releasing you to sit back down. He shakes James' hand before sitting as close to you as he can and resting his hand on your thigh, resting your hand over his. His other arm curls around the back of the couch over your shoulder. You hear a collective awe from the crowd and smile, looking over at him and catching his gaze.

He sends a wink your way, loving the way your face heats up even after all this time.

“You two are just the cutest!” James cries, pulling you out of your daze and you look back over to him, seeing a gleaming grin on his face. He was very happy the two of you had finally decided to come out with your relationship. He'd been a friend of yours for a few years and was excited you chose his show to be the platform you broadcasted the news on.

Chris giggled and leaned over to peck your cheek a few times, causing your face to burn even more than it already was.

“So, Y/n is it true that Chris is actually a co-writer on your latest album? Under a pseudonym?” James asks, moving on from fawning over the two of you.

“Yeah, actually! Uh, with the lockdown, I didn’t want to go into it saying “Alright, it’s time to make the next album.” I kind of just sat back and said whatever happens will happen and one day I walked into the music room we have in our house and Chris was playing the guitar and humming this tune and I immediately heard what would end up being the finished version of Slow Burn.” I explained, looking over to see if Chris wanted to add anything.

“I had never done anything in the songwriting realm before that. I had always wanted to leave that to her and let it be her thing, so when she asked me to write the song with her it was kind of nerve wracking. Cause there I was, writing a song with a Grammy Award winning songwriter. It was very intimidating!” He said, bragging about your accomplishments like he always did. He’s a very proud husband.

“Well now, Chris, you are also a Grammy Award winning songwriter! Golden Hour won Album Of The Year, didn’t it?” James looks between the two of you with a small smile.

“It did, yeah!” He smiled, looking over at you.

“How many is that for you now Y/n?”

“Uh… that’s a good question.” The crowd laughed, causing a giggle to erupt from you. “11 I think… Yeah, 11.”

“11 Grammy Awards?!” James’ eyes bugged out. You nodded, a blush blooming on your skin. Chris giggled as you hid your face in his neck and the audience followed suit, giggling at how adorable the two of you were.

“Chris, you've got yourself a very talented lady here!” Chris looked over at you with a look you saw often in his eyes. You saw it every day actually, he was telling you he loved you without really having to say it because after all this time the two of you just knew.

“I do, I really do!”

#chris evans x reader #chris evans x singer!reader #chris evans #chris evans x you #cevans #chris evans fluff #husband!chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans one shot #x reader #chris evans imagine #marvel #steve rogers x reader #curtis everett x reader #jake jensen x reader #ari levinson x reader #ransom drysdale x reader

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lovenona · 3 years

Text

ON THE SACRED BONDS OF BROTHERHOOD.

synopsis; choso may be their beloved frat brother, but he’ll always be your brother first. (for the frat au collab.)

pairing; frat boy! choso x f! reader

contains; stepcest, dubcon (reader is under the influence but having a good time), extensive descriptions of knife play and blood play, marking (choso carves his name into you), oral (f! receiving), borderline yandere/possessive choso (he loves you A Lot), choso goes from mean to Soft, consumption and romanticization of drugs and alcohol, (1) use of ‘angel’, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, this is essentially all foreplay and ends before the fucking because i got tired, minors do not interact or perish

word count; 6.5k

the yard outside is clean, well-kept. there’s talk that the house’s landlord is a retired gardener who receives great joy from keeping up the hydrangeas and peonies along the sidewalk. it’s certainly award-winning, that front yard, with its colorful blossoms and plush bees circling the mailbox.

they’re so lucky, students bemoan on their way to and from class. i can’t believe the frat boys get to live there. i bet they don’t even know how lucky they are.

it’s a seemingly kind house from the outside – recently renovated with navy blue paint and white trimming, a large front porch and a few inviting windows. the place that omega lambda now calls home is, simply put, a dream. it sits just a few minutes from campus and it tells the street proudly, fondly, that there is no better place to be than here.

it’s true, in some respects, that omega lambda likes to see themselves as above the sweat and grime of their fellow frat brothers. they don’t spend their weekends “fucking and drinking” and tracking dirt across the carpet like animals. their fun is calm, refined: to be invited to a night with omega lambda means a night of smoke curling into the air, of gossip over olive-colored couches, of pills under tongues, of ease and relaxation.

it’s slower than the others, they say in the back of monday morning lectures, but no less extreme, no matter what those boys try and tell you.

i think i was tripping for days, the girl from psychology 101 boasted. whatever the fuck yuuji gets is strong.

such stories amaze you: and even as you stand on the sidewalk outside the perfect blue house, petunias curling inward with the evening breeze, you cannot believe they are real. it’s hard to imagine the face of your beloved stepbrother tied to these antics. it’s hard to imagine that the boy who used to come home every winter and summer with bloodshot eyes and a beat-up skateboard also swore a loyal, unbreakable oath of brotherhood to a band of boys you’ve never met.

it’s hard to imagine that your own stepbrother, choso, the one who taught you how to ride a bike and how to apply eyeliner and how to kiss without teeth, quite literally runs what has been dubbed the chillest fraternity on campus.

but yet, here you are, new to university, fresh-faced and eager, cowering outside the door of the omega lambda residence. your favorite skirt hovers around your thighs and you tug at the collar of your shirt, fiddle with the charm of the necklace choso gave you for your birthday a few years ago.

he’d invited you here almost immediately after learning that you and your roommate had tried your hand at partying with beta pi epsilon. naoya is trash, choso’s fervent texts read the next morning. absolute dick – don’t trust him. come hang out with us instead. he’d attached the address of the blue house along with a reminder to have a snack and take some medicine for your godforsaken hangover.

the message had taken you a little by surprise. choso’s always been sweet to you – doting, even, if you wanted a better word for it – but you hadn’t been sure how he’d handle attending the same university. your other friends all complain that they’d rather die than see their families; twins separate after orientation, brothers and sisters look the other way if they pass each other in the quad. you feared choso would be the same, that the omnipotent attention he gave you at home would completely dissipate the moment you moved into your dorm.

but his text reaffirms you, if anything. and although your roommate had opted to be wined and dined by the boy from calculus this evening, you don’t mind attending alone. her absence from your side only means you will be able to see your stepbrother without a distraction.

the music buzzes through the door as you knock and wring your fingers on the doorstep. should you just walk in? should you text choso and wait for him to fetch you? the ins-and-outs of frat etiquette cloud your mind until the door swings open and you’re met, face-to-face, with a young pink-haired man dangling a blunt from one hand and his phone, opened to his spotify playlist, from the other.

“hi,” you say, words foreign in your throat. “choso invited me?”

“oh, cool,” itadori yuuji says, shrugging his shoulders like he never would have questioned it. “come on in. you can put your shoes over there.”

while omega lambda is not packed from wall to wall as your night at beta pi epsilon had been, the various couches propped against the walls and surrounding the living room coffee table are nearly packed to the brim with the frat brothers and their guests. the air, hazy with smoke and desire and drinking, shifts and swirls as it curls around purple LED lights before fogging up the windows and disappearing up the stairs. it is warm here, easy, like dropping into the depths of a pleasurable dream.

“there’s drinks in the kitchen,” yuuji is saying, voice thick with his high, “and we’ve got some other stuff on the table, although you’ll have to pay yuuta for those–”

yuuji’s narration is cut off as a familiar figure crashes into yours, sweeping you into a hug so tight you fear your bones will snap from the pressure. choso smells like the cologne you bought him for his birthday, like fresh laundry and comfort; you breathe him in, deeply, and let yourself relax into the soft cotton of his black t-shirt.

“glad you could make it,” choso mumbles into your skin. he draws back slightly, drinks you in, your little skirt and your dainty socks that he’s always been partial to. he looks from you to yuuji, still vibing to the side with his playlist, and his eyes crinkle in what must be mirth.

“it’s good to see you,” you say.

“you saw me at lunch with mom last week.” choso smiles, the black line across his nose crinkling when his eyes light up.

“you get what i mean.” you tap his shoulder, lightly, as emphasis. the anxiety dissolves; it’s you, and him, like it’s always been. it’s your stepbrother choso who watches your shadow and wraps you up to keep the rest of the world at bay.

but the tender moment is broken when someone, a tall blonde girl with the aura of a lioness, calls out to choso to ask him for assistance. he looks at you, a bit forlorn, before telling yuuji to help you get settled in and making his way to the other end of the living room.

“yes, this way!” yuuji grabs your arm and drags you across the floor like you’ve known each other forever. “i make some fucking good drinks if i do say so myself.”

which, consequently enough, is how you find yourself losing your mind within the walls of omega lambda.

it’s not that you’re a virgin to the world of cocktails and lime and pills: it’s that you’re too sweet to know when to stop. it’s hard to tell yuuji no more, thanks when his face is so bright, when he and the strange, blue-haired frat brother mahito are asking you to try this and try that and to let us know what you think.

so you let yourself sway through the house, from couch to couch, listening to this mahito boy tell you about his latest philosophy courses as he dances cold fingers across your shoulders, listening to yuuji explain the very serious business of pulling an all-nighter without coffee, watching the LED lights shift from purple to blue and back again.

(you’re not sure where choso is. perhaps, in your altered state, he’s sitting just across from you and you don’t even know it. but you don’t mind, because his brothers get along with you just as well. you don’t mind, because you’re too drunk or too high to know any better.)

“and how are you doing?” a dark-haired man slides into the empty couch space next to you. arms littered with various tattoos and dark hair pulled back into a casual half-bun, he could have been your beloved choso had he not exuded such finesse, such arrogance, which choso could never be capable of doing.

“i’m alright,” you say, but you’re more than alright. the room is so warm and your brain is so fuzzy that you might melt into the couch if someone looked away for even a minute. “i don’t think we’ve met before? i’m choso’s stepsister.”

he simpers, a humid thing, one that coils around your eyelids and sets your insides alight. “ah! i’ve heard a lot about you. it’s nice to meet you.” he holds out a manicured hand; black nail polish glimmers in the dim light. “geto. i’m one of choso’s frat brothers.”

his handshake might take your soul with it. his hands are smooth, refined. you swear he can feel your quickening pulse as you introduce yourself. he watches you like you might be the only person in the room, like you might be the sweetest thing to have ever crossed the threshold. and filled with rum and liqueur and confidence you take it, gladly, because you’re young and the thought of university still puts stars in your eyes.

“so what are you studying?” geto is saying, prying you apart, picking through your history. he’s in his final year and you’re in your first and he knows all there is to know while you still have nothing. you latch onto him because he gets it, because he’s handsome, because you’re silly and desperate and drunk. somewhere along the way your thighs touch and his hand greets your shoulder and you think that you finally made it into his lap because mahito complained that the couch was too full.

geto smells like expensive cologne. you smell vaguely of lemons and shampoo. yuuji jokes with you from across the table and you like it, the way these brothers’ eyes fall on you.

so you spiral, further and further, into a daze you cannot escape from. you barely react to geto’s firm hand snaking up your bare thigh because you are too busy trying yuuji’s latest creation and asking mahito for more of whatever he gave you. it’s fun, it’s weightless; you feel beautiful, supreme, like the kind of college girl you’re supposed to be. you’re desirable, cute. you’re the girl to be in love with, the one who sets the scene.

those rumors were right. the party is certainly slower than the other frats you’ve visited, with more emphasis on sitting and vibing than on dancing and drinking games, but no less extreme. you’re so far out of your brain that you wonder briefly if it will ever be possible to come back down. maybe you’ll be her, on monday morning, the girl who’s still tripping.

“you know,” geto is saying, his breath eerily close to your pulse, a moment away from pressing a kiss to your cheek, your neck, “you should stop by more often.”

“yeah?” you hope you sound sexier than you are. “i’d love to–”

“excuse me,” choso’s voice cuts through your lazy fantasy like the sharp fall of a guillotine. “i’d prefer if you didn’t hit on my sister, geto.”

geto’s laugh reverberates against your back, your ears. his grip on you lightens immediately, and whatever words he’d saved for you die away. “i’m not,” he says, but his voice is too easy to be honest. “just keeping her company. right, sweetheart?”

you’re finding it hard to see straight. caught in this game of cat and mouse you find you can do nothing but sit lamely in geto’s lap and watch choso’s favorite necklace reflect the purple light. it’s only after a revolution around the sun you realize you haven’t spoken, that you’ve done nothing but hover, a lot of drunk and a little high and a little nervous, between one man and the other. you mumble a yes in affirmation but it’s clear from the tension that choso doesn’t believe it.

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” choso sighs. “come on, then. you’ve had enough for one night.” familiar arms lift you off the couch and you stumble, much like a baby gazelle, into the safety of choso’s chest. the room spins with the sudden change; you cling to him like a lifeline as you abandon the party to head upstairs.

of course, bedazzled out of your mind, you do not question when choso leads you to the end of the hallway and over the threshold of his bedroom. it feels expected in a way, safe, as if the party had always been meaning to end here. as if there was no other place you should be.

“so?” choso asks, casually, shutting the door behind him with a damning click. “did you enjoy being a little whore with my brothers?”

his words take a long moment to settle in your ears. you’re caught in the swirl of euphoria in your brain, the black t-shirts scattered across the floor, the small houseplant you once bought him seated on the windowsill. it warms your heart to see it there, after all this time.

“well?” choso demands your attention. he takes your jaw in his hand and lifts your eyes to meet his gaze. his silver rings, imposing and cool on slender fingers, burn into your heated flesh like embers. his eyes swim with distaste and you know it’s your fault, somehow, but when the walls tilt and your rationality fogs over, you can’t quite pinpoint why.

“i–” your words catch in your throat. it’s clear, from the darkness in his eyes, from the way his nails dig into the soft flesh of your jawline, that anything you say to defend yourself will be futile. it’s choso’s world, you’ve always known, and even now, you’re merely living in it.

“i invite my sister to see me, because i miss her,” choso’s words nestle themselves deep into your bloodstream, settling amongst the brandy and wine, “and she chooses to spend the night bending over for my brothers. how do you think that makes me feel?”

it’s a look you know: a look that has haunted you for hours and days, a look that you know better than any other. it’s the look that guides the hand between your legs at night and the look you recreate in your mind’s eye when your vibrator just isn’t enough. you’re crumbling already, like sand beneath his touch.

“i’m sorry,” you say to him, but the words are soft and whispered things, shy beneath the weight of your own guilt and disappointment. “i didn’t mean to–”

“no,” choso admonishes. he steps closer, guiding you backwards until his bedsheets brush the backs of your knees. “of course you didn’t. you’re still too dumb to know what you’re doing.” his voice, evenly condescending, hardly matches the gentle brush of his fingers as he moves to cup your cheeks. you close your eyes against it, savoring the shivers he sends across you body with every heartbeat, every movement. “still need your big brother to keep you in check.”

you do not respond: he does not intend for you too. instead choso presses you back until you fall onto his bed, crawling over you to cage your body beneath him like a predator and its prey. your brain falters with the sudden movement, with the lateness of the hour and the depravity of your position, but you can do nothing but look at him with your helpless doe-eyes while something saccharine pools in your belly.

“look at you,” choso says. “high out of your damn mind. good thing i caught you when i did. who knows what would have happened.”

you believe him, you do, especially when choso dips his head to kiss you and demands your subservience. his tongue licks the aftermath of your cocktails from your lips and claims the expanse of your mouth, your teeth, your sanity. you let him take you, body and soul, even when you’re clamoring for air and freedom. there is no safety but choso’s lips, flavored with his cinnamon chapstick, no sacred home but the warmth of his mouth.

“there’s my girl,” choso breathes, nose brushing against yours as he pulls back for air. “going to be good for me now? going to make it up to your big brother?”

he doesn’t wait for a response; fingers dance along the silk of your blouse as he undoes each button, one by one, letting his fingers dip slyly against the newly exposed expanse of your collarbone and your chest and your stomach. you make no move to stop him, caught somewhere between choso’s aura and reality and time.

(and maybe in another life you would have stopped him. maybe in another life you would have been ashamed. but it’s choso, your sworn protector and god among men, and you would be a fool to try and stop the one who knows best. he is safety, protection. who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t taken you away when he did.)

“is this new?” choso asks, studying the curve of your bra as he rests against your hips. “who are you trying to impress?”

it’s thin lavender lace, choso’s favorite. your face warms at the observation and you turn your head away, nestling among the sheets, as if you could escape choso’s eyes: but his fingers still trace the material and you can still hear him breathing and you know he will never look away.

“i just got it,” you answer, humbled and mildly humiliated and certainly a little fucked up. the words are slow and imprecise as you stumble over your own tongue. “i wanted to…treat myself.”

choso’s exploratory hands move from your bra to the waistband of your skirt. “could’ve just asked me,” he says earnestly, intently. “i would’ve gotten it for you.”

your affirmative hum is lost when choso mindfully pulls your skirt down your legs and discards it somewhere in the shadows of the room. he says nothing of it, of the thin fabric or the way it flattered you just right. perhaps he is jealous of it. perhaps he does not want to remember the way his brothers looked at you when you wore it, the way geto’s hands caressed the places no other man should go.

“they match, i see,” choso gestures towards your underwear. terrified and knowing and aware that you’re growing damper with each passing minute, you press your thighs together. “they’re cute.”

“t-thank you,” you whisper. “i… i got them for you. your favorite color.”

he smiles, a precious and glorious thing, a smile that causes flowers to grow and birds to sing. you electrify at the sight of it, blissful only when he is.

“i’d hope so,” choso says, “because i don’t think i could take it if this was meant for someone else.”

he reaches over to the nightstand while his words claw through you. choso smells like cinnamon and safety and pleasure; your heartbeat quickens as his t-shirt brushes against you, as your world collapses into nothing but choso’s profile, his butterfly hair-clips and his glowing skin and his power.

when choso settles back over you, resting against your thighs until you think you might die of it, something silver and shiny rests in his palm. you’d recognize it even if your eyes were closed, if the room were so dark that you couldn’t see if you tried. a searing and insatiable sensation lodges itself in your veins; it is fear personified, it is anticipation of a behavior you cannot even name.

choso twirls his beloved switchblade deftly between his well-manicured fingertips. it reflects the low-light of the room. it calls out to you, the beautiful and dangerous thing, a siren’s song that promises both your misery and your fortune. choso’s face is relaxed, serene, as the envy and the fury seemingly melts away from him and leaves only a disinterested vessel behind.

he lets you study it, lets you study him, and you know he’s pleased when he can feel your thighs tense, when you try so damn hard not to let choso know just how affected you really are. he shifts, grinding gently against your pelvis as he moves, causing you to bite your lip in a desperate attempt to surpress the gentlest of moans.

“well,” choso says, disregarding the state he’s slowly working you into. he shifts down your body and runs a lackluster hand across the lacy expanse of your underwear. shivers pierce your navel, silver rings poison your skin. it’s all you can do to watch him, his heartless eyes and his casual form, as his thumb prods at the place where you underwear crosses your hip. “let’s get these off. i’d hate to have anyone else see you in them.”

you feel the blade before you see it. cold, unfriendly, it rests against the gentle skin of your hip, a killer ready to take a life. a humiliatingly choked whine is out of your mouth before you can swallow it; your gasp reverberates throughout the room, the sound of one who knows they’ve lost a fight.

“choso–” you breathe, but you don’t know quite what it is you’re asking him for.

he doesn’t answer immediately, opting instead to tease you further with the blade as he presses it against you until goosebumps rise in chorus. your fingers curl in on themselves, desperate for purchase, while fear and longing hum everywhere in your being.

“don’t worry,” choso says. “i’ll buy you more. now be good and stay still.”

you want to writhe, to lash out and squirm beneath the intensity of the moment, but you fear choso’s disappointment more than you crave such release. your big brother choso has never been afraid to hurt you: to pierce the skin where it hurts, to draw blood where he means it. if you move, the blade will move with you. you know this as you know every scar choso has left behind.

it’s agonizing, this pace. choso’s tongue peeks out from between his teeth as he works with the ease of a great master. it’s like watching paint dry, like waiting for grass to grow or continents to shift. he cuts away at the expensive lingerie you bought just last weekend like he has all the time in the world, like he does not care if the sun rises and you are still crying beneath him.

(and he does it, you know, because you’ve never been one to be patient.)

“choso,” you whine, drawing his name out, long and frustrated, as if in song. “go faster.” your legs twitch in protest and the blade comes ever closer.

“no.” choso does not even spare the kindness to look at you, his beloved little sister. “stop whining.”

the rest of your complaints lodge in your throat. you fear disobeying him, so you grip the comforter like a lifeline, exasperated tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as the blade cuts through your clothes and ghosts across the bare skin beneath. it’s embarrassing, really, the way you can feel yourself becoming more and more desperate the further choso drifts away from you, the more he refuses to indulge.

you wonder if he can sense the arousal on you, feel it, smell it, even, like you’re nothing but his own little plaything in heat.

after an eternity, the blade finally cuts through your panties with a satisfying rip. the torn fabric sits pitifully against your hips, a reminder of your own subservience, until choso peels it away from you with enough condescension to move you to tears. the cool air of the room hits your thighs, your cunt, like a ghost who’s taken up residence beside you.

blissfully unaware of your feelings, choso studies the remains of your ruined underwear, the thin fabric and the obvious stain of your arousal. locking eyes with you, he bring it to his nose for a brief and pleasurable inhale before he discards it somewhere on the other side of the room.

“there we are,” he says, as if he hadn’t just smelled yourself in front of you. “now no one will ever know about it but me.”

“choso,” you whimper, hot. it’s a gift and a humiliation to be beneath him like this, to shake with need and yet to be denied it, to ask for something, for anything, in a voice so unabashedly loud that anyone who passes by the door might hear it.

he ignores you, again, and turns his attention to your bra as it flutters against your fervent chest. you watch with wide eyes as the blade comes closer, closer, dancing against your ribcage and sending ice into your lungs until it slices through the front of your bra, down the center of your chest, like the thin fabric was made of nothing but water.

“get rid of this,” he says; you listen. with quick and quivering fingertips you shimmy your way out of the delicate material and toss it over the side of the bed faster than the speed of sound. choso, pleased with your obedience, intently traces the curve of your breasts, thumbing your nipples until you find yourself arching into his touch.

(choso, you mumble, eyes falling shut at the feeling. still, as always, he does not listen. he draws his hands away.)

it kills you, the way choso’s eyes possess you, own you, dictate the movement in your bloodstream. it’s akin to being pulled along on marionette strings, a puppet of choso’s own design, made to dance for him and him alone.

it’s the prize he deserves, your big brother, to own you and protect you, body and soul.

it’s that very intensity which moves you to misty tears, which causes your hands to fly out to meet him against your better judgement. choso lets you pleasure yourself for a moment with the texture of his t-shirt and the outline of his shoulders before brushing your hands away like unnecessary flies.

“did you whore yourself out like this when you went to naoya’s?” choso prods. the patronization lies beneath feigned and genuine curiosity. there are no inflections, no signs of anger. this is how your big brother gets you, every time: it’s the neglect, the disinterest, that breeds your guilt. “are you really so easy for every boy that comes your way?”

you shake your head and wish you could bury yourself further into the bedsheets. no, never. try as you might the first-year college boys here just haven’t been enough, the older ones too preoccupied with better cunts to look your way.

“just because those guys are my brothers,” choso continues, shifting further and further down your body, spreading your legs until he can fit himself comfortably between them, “doesn’t mean i have to share everything with them.”

“i’m sorry, choso,” you try again, “i’m sorry. i don’t want anyone else–”

“that’s right,” choso interrupts. “you don’t need anyone else. no one is ever going to love you the way i do.”

the way your big brother does, his eyes say, but he doesn’t have to voice it. you already know. it’s true that no one knows you better than choso does. no one understands your limits and your desires the way your brother has for as long as you’ve known him. no one knows how to caress you when you cry, how to run their tongue across your lips to silence you when you’re too eager. it’s always choso. it’s always been choso; but sometimes you’re just too much of a fool to see it.

the blade, cool and demanding, presses against the soft flesh of your thigh, just below the hip. you twitch in surprise at the sensation and curl your toes to quell the ache in your cunt. it’s slick, weeping; you can feel it, the arousal, as it pools and pools and drips quietly onto the comforter.

“choso, what are you–” you ask, breathily, pitifully, but choso’s quick glare reduces you into obedient silence.

he licks the cinnamon chapstick on his lips. a stray hair falls across his eyes and kisses the dark line across his nose. he is love and danger, a cocktail of possession and surrender. “i think,” choso says, the words slow and thoughtful, “you need a reminder of who loves you the most.”

a strangled cry escapes your lips when the blade pierces your skin just enough to draw blood. the sting travels up through your spine and fogs up your senses, causes your cunt to weep in horrible anticipation. it hurts, it does, the first cut, but still you find yourself waiting for more of it, more, in terror and lust and love.

“choso–” you cry, a misty tear escaping out of the corner of your eye, but the call is met by another stroke, longer this time, drawn out, until your knuckles clutch the bedsheets so tensely they might as well turn to stone.

“stay still,” choso admonishes amidst the burn of it. “you’ll hurt yourself.”

as if you were the one in control. but you listen, obediently as always, and the alcohol from earlier combined with the need in your chest mixes together until your body is as taut as a desperate wire, until you no longer have control of yourself or your limbs. the knife cuts easily, choso’s hands as steady and precise as ever. you can feel the blood dripping onto his sheets like a series of hot tears.

it’s too much, all at once. it is a fire which destroys you, which renders every coherent thought into ash and causes you to sob nothing but drawn-out cries and pleads of choso’s name into the dark bedroom. he has you just where he wants you: pliant, dumb, obedient. if he asked you to fetch him a star, you would have asked him which one he needed.

choso’s tongue darts between his teeth as a steady hand continues its masterpiece. you sob unabashedly in reply with every stroke, with every flex of his fingers as he works his blade against your tender skin. and yet, as the pain grows, so does your need for something, for anything, for release; with every aching minute your cunt grows hotter and lonelier and emptier between your thighs.

you crave something, anything, choso, perhaps even more than you wish for air.

“there you go,” choso says, just as you release another cry so piercing there’s no way even yuuji wouldn’t have heard it. “all done.”

you sit up on your elbows to peer down at the masterpiece below your hip. smeared with blood, aching and raw from the blade, the word CHOSO spreads across your upper thigh in an uneven but heartfelt script. it makes you dizzy, this marking, this sign that no one owns you better than your sacred brother does. you wonder if it will leave a scar, if it will heal; and even more so, you wonder if choso will merely rewrite it, again and again, until every cell in your body knows that you are nothing without him.

you say nothing; a whine escapes your lips as your eyes flit from the mark to choso’s eyes, dark and possessive, as he looks back at you.

“you like it?” he asks, once again the sweet thing, the doting one.

“yes,” you whisper back, never one to lie to your perfect big brother.

but you cannot hide the insatiability. choso notices the way your thighs twitch from the intensity, the way your cunt drools and your eyebrows furrow because you cannot relieve this ache on your own. you’re helpless, entirely at his mercy. choso tilts his head with a soft and unreadable simper at the sight.

“you’re really worked up, huh?” he pretends your distress is not blatantly obvious. he twirls the bloodstained knife between his fingertips for a moment before bringing the flat edge of the blade against his lips in a somber kiss. “this little thing’s got you down bad, i see.” he flashes the switchblade at you like a diamond. you watch, entranced, as choso slides his tongue across the metal until any traces of your blood disappear into his mouth.

your belly’s on fire. the switchblade shines with choso’s spit and he smiles, your blood on his tongue, while he prods your legs apart, further, until you’re entirely open for him with nothing to hide. you whine lowly as choso’s eyes flicker between your eyes, dazed and helpless, and the slick on the bedsheets.

“choso,” you repeat. “please, help me.” your eyes are wide and your voice is small and you crumble beneath the weight of your own needing, of your own body working of its own volition, of the high that collapses all over you.

perhaps it’s the way you call for him, your big brother, in your time of need. perhaps it’s the way choso can never really deny you, even when he feigns disappointment or rage or neglect. he’s bound to you, your protector, and you can see in the way his eyes soften ever so slightly that choso will not deny you this request.

“sure thing, angel. let me clean this up for you.” choso’s voice is generous as he bows his face towards your hips with the reverence of one before the altar. he leaves no room for your answer. an eager tongue swipes across your thigh and laps at the blood which pools there. his movements are indulgent, refined, as he holds your legs open with intimidating palms and drinks you in like medicine.

“choso–” you gasp, unable to look away. his eyes flit back to meet yours in reply but he continues his ministrations, slow, teasing, as he ignores your cunt entirely and licks at the fresh wound until it’s finally, sacredly, clean. your newly beloved CHOSO glimmers with his spit when he pulls away. he smiles at you then, praying over your hips, lips stained red with your blood, with your being.

“i may be their brother,” choso gestures towards the door, to the party which must still rage below, “but i’m your brother first, and now you’ll never forget it.”

the words are followed by his tongue on your inner thigh, fervent this time, as he travels downwards, downwards from his name on your leg until his nose is a breath away from your clit. you thrust your hips towards him impatiently and he accepts it, gratefully, burying his face deep into your cunt like he’s searching for gold. choso lavishes your clit with plump lips and an eager tongue, drawing the bud into his mouth and kissing it until you cry, until your legs tremble as they ensnare him in your garden.

“choso–” you’re crying, voice transcendent throughout the frat house, his favorite song. there’s a tongue prodding against your hole and a silver ring on your clit and you lose yourself within it, within choso’s breath on your folds and the fire which erupts into chaos.

when it comes to pleasing you, choso does not require air. he refuses to resurface as his tongue explores every inch, as he laps away at you with the passionate abandon only an older brother can provide. what you need, he needs, and what you desire most, choso is always willing to provide. he holds you steady as he works so you cannot escape him. he forces you into stillness as he abuses every sacred inch of your cunt, as he works you into a frenzy with his fingers and his tongue until you can think of nothing but wanting to cum.

and then, then, at the precipice of pleasure, choso pulls away. you pause as you catch your breath, heartbeat like an earthquake, and recollect your shock. why has he stopped? where has he gone? you’re about to sit up, to feign sobriety, to demand what the matter is, when something cool and smooth presses against your clit.

choso’s cheek rests against your inner thigh as he presses the flat edge of the switchblade against your cunt. it’s cold and dangerous and sublime and you cannot help but think of the way it could ruin you, that if you shifted or choso wanted it everything could end here, now, forever. and it is this fear, coupled with the coolness of the blade suffocating your clit, with the alcohol in your bloodstream, that sends you into a place from which you may never return.

the orgasm is as violent as a hurricane. the moment you tense and begin to quake with a strangled sob choso replaces the blade with his tongue and rides you through it, coating his lips with your cum and swallowing the vibrations and heightening the sensation until you are tortured by it, by the sting of pleasure and overstimulation and want.

(“that’s it,” you think he says into your skin, but your ears ring too loudly to know. “cum for me, just like that.”)

it takes some time for the waves to recede and for your body to become still again. with a head comprised of of jelly and limbs made of water you lie still, panting, as choso nonchalantly licks your slick from the switchblade with a hum and gingerly sets it back down on his dresser. you watch as he slides the belt out of his jeans and tosses it into the dark room, as he hovers above you like an angel and its lover.

“better now?” he asks against your parted lips. you nod. he kisses you, deeply, a kiss made of iron and cum and blood, tongue swiping across your teeth before he draws the air from your lungs. your vision swims when he plants a kiss on the tip of your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, between your eyebrows. he plants his love until there is nowhere left untouched, until you are buzzing with the security only your brother choso can give you.

“yeah,” you mumble back to him, content, satisfied. even the sting of his name on your body is a pleasantry now.

“good.” choso wipes the perspiration from your brow. his jeans scratch against your pelvis, and it is only then that you finally register his cock, hard and eager, waiting patiently for its turn. it is only then that you realize choso’s lesson is not yet over, that your brother’s desperate need has only begun.

“now,” he purrs, gently, lovingly, “can you show me how much you love me?”

(as always, forever, you do. you show him your love, endlessly, even when the party ends and the house falls eerily silent. you show choso everything, all of it, loyally, just as he asks, with an only you, choso, and a no one else loves me like you.

because although choso offers his love to the brothers downstairs, he will always, forever, be your brother first, til death do you part.)

#tw incest #tw dubcon #tw knife play #tw blood play #tw marking #tw yandere #choso smut #choso.#it's dark in here #it's hot in here

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1kook · 4 years

Text

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?”

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence.

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

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