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criticalbennifer · 2 years ago

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How Jennifer Lopez Found Happily Ever After

By: Rob Haskell

November 8, 2022

On a disquietingly hot and windy October day at the outer edges of the San Fernando Valley, Jennifer Lopez—who has never been accused of lacking ambition—is saving the world. Not this world, though it surely also needs saving, but an imagined dystopia some century ahead in which robots, according to their frustrating custom, threaten the human race.

“To me, it’s a love story,” says Lopez, and she laughs.

She laughs because of course she would see it thus, because love is her big project in this world, her messy, public, decades-long, sometimes glamorous, sometimes treacherous, often thwarted project, the lens that when it comes down over her eyes can’t help but turn everything as pink as the six-carat diamond with which Ben Affleck proposed to her the first time, in 2002. But Atlas—the movie she is shooting today, part of a new deal between her film company, Nuyorican Productions, and Netflix—isn’t most people’s idea of a love story. In fact, it’s a straight-up sci-fi action thriller, in which Lopez plays a military intelligence analyst assigned to reconfigure a potentially lethal form of artificial intelligence. Though the costumery is more Mad Max than Wedding Planner, scholars of the Jennifer Lopez catalog will find in Atlas’s protagonist a familiar character: the headstrong careerist with little time for life’s mushier feelings until the right man (or droid) comes along.

“Closed off. Totally obsessed with her work. Dealing with a lot of pain and sadness from her childhood,” Lopez continues, making an explicit allusion to the porousness that has characterized the relationship between her life and her art over the last three decades. “She has to learn how to let him in so that they can be stronger together.”

We are sitting between takes in her tent on the soundstage, where great efforts have been made to create an oasis on a hectic, buzzing set. Her favorite candle flickers on a cream-colored faux-shagreen desk, and a black Hermès blanket is draped over the massage table. In the little living room, a marble chess set rests on a marble coffee table, and above it hangs a green neon sign whose soft cursive reads “Mrs. Affleck.” It was a gift from the crew.

Lopez, her hair matted, her neck and temple caked with fake blood, is surprised to learn that a few days after her marriage this July, The New York Times published an opinion piece expressing disappointment that at a moment when feminist ideals felt imperiled in America, Lopez had taken her husband’s name. (She shared this news, along with a few photos of the family jaunt to Vegas, in her free, subscription-based “On the JLo” newsletter, where her biggest fans get a not overly filtered but nevertheless highly curated monthly update about her life.)

“What? Really?” she asks. “People are still going to call me Jennifer Lopez. But my legal name will be Mrs. Affleck because we’re joined together. We’re husband and wife. I’m proud of that. I don’t think that’s a problem.” You mean there’s no part of you that might want Ben to be Mr. Lopez? She laughs. “No! It’s not traditional. It doesn’t have any romance to it. It feels like it’s a power move, you know what I mean? I’m very much in control of my own life and destiny and feel empowered as a woman and as a person. I can understand that people have their feelings about it, and that’s okay, too. But if you want to know how I feel about it, I just feel like it’s romantic. It still carries tradition and romance to me, and maybe I’m just that kind of girl.”

That Lopez has pursued love across four marriages, two broken engagements, and assorted misbegotten alliances over 25 years should be news to almost no one. Neither is the fact that her great romantic experiment has coincided with a relentless professional momentum, an enormously productive and still expanding career (more than 30 movies, eight studio albums, a dizzying array of branding endeavors), and now, at the age of 53, an untouchable aura that somehow contains glamour, grit, and goodness all at once. While it sometimes seems as if Beyoncé might live on a small, satin-upholstered space station, Lopez, despite her aura, has remained accessible, real, gears exposed, Jenny from the block and all that. Though she possesses an unusually deft touch with the press, dusting the trail with crumbs and remaining an object of extreme media fascination for a quarter century, Lopez has also built more walls around her over the years.

“In the beginning I was of the mind that I could say or do anything,” she recalls. “I was from the Bronx, and who didn’t say what they thought there?” Her early relationship with Affleck offered a cruel lesson, as the tabloid press denigrated her with racist and classist dog whistles; South Park parodied her viciously, and Conan O’Brien told his audience that the show’s “cleaning lady” would be playing Lopez in a sketch. “We were so young and so in love at that time, really very carefree, with no kids, no attachments. And we were just living our lives, being happy and out there. It didn’t feel like we needed to hide from anybody or be real discreet. We were just living out loud, and it turned out to really bite us. There was a lot underneath the surface there, people not wanting us to be together, people thinking I wasn’t the right person for him.” Over the ensuing years Lopez has seemed to gather a force field around her, as if weaponized against derisive scrutiny. “I became very guarded because I realized that they will fillet you. I really wish I could say more. I used to be like that. I am like that. But I’ve also learned.”

Lopez would like especially to say more about the journey back to Ben Affleck, which, really, has been a journey of self-discovery that began around 12 years ago, when she was newly separated from the singer-actor Marc Anthony and suddenly a single mother of twin babies. It was the professional and emotional low point of her career: A couple of albums had sputtered, and she no longer seemed to be getting the movie offers that had flowed in in previous years. Financially strained and somewhat aimless, in 2011 she accepted a job as a judge on American Idol, which, to her great surprise, reinvigorated her career. It turned out that the human touch was what her audience, and the industry, needed from her.

“It was like, Oh! That’s all I had to do this whole time was be myself? Although it was a competition, it was a reality show,” she explains, “and I had never done one. Up until then we only had what the media was telling you about me. I loved meeting the kids because I so identified with their dreams—I just loved it. There were a lot of things that people saw through that show, but more than anything I think they saw my heart, that I was a cool, funny person, that I was a nice person. No matter how many awards shows you do or late-night talk show couches you sit on, people feel like you’re putting something on. With a reality show, you can’t hide behind a script or a four-minute interview. You’re out there.”

At the same time, Lopez was privately beginning a process of self-reflection and self-improvement that emanated from the experience of motherhood. Motifs had emerged in her unsuccessful romantic relationships, which she felt ready to disrupt. “I just didn’t understand what it was to care for myself, to not put somebody else’s feelings and needs—and your need for them to love you—in front of taking care of yourself,” she says. “You turn yourself into a pretzel for people and think that that’s a noble thing, to put yourself second. And it’s not. Those patterns become deep patterns that you carry with you, and then at a certain point you go, Wait, this doesn’t feel good. Why am I never happy? I really felt that way for a long time. And finally I was just like, Ugh! It’s time to figure me out because I need to be good for these babies. And even from there, with all the willingness I had, it took years and years to really put the pieces together, like, Oh, this thing I do because of this, that thing I do because that happened to me at this age.”

Lopez grew up in the Castle Hill neighborhood of the Bronx, in what she describes as a typical working-class Puerto Rican household. Though her background has been overmined for clues to future greatness—the strict upbringing, church every Sunday, early exposure by her mother to musicals, an impressive high school athletic career—two details stand out. Guadalupe Rodríguez was a young mother, fun and performative but tough as nails and sometimes overwhelmed with her three daughters, not above resorting to corporal punishment with them, which Jennifer has tried to understand as the custom of the time and place. “We respected her, but we also feared her,” she recalls. “She did what she needed to keep us in line.” And David Lopez, her father, worked nights and wasn’t always available to his family. When they divorced, after 33 years of marriage, Jennifer recalls, it came as a shock, though perhaps it shouldn’t have.

Over the course of our discussions, Lopez alludes to encounters with self-help texts, meditation, psychotherapy, psychiatry, and life coaching. She appears to have attacked the project of working through her childhood trauma, and its present-day reverberations in the form of unhealthy attachments, with the same intensity she has brought to her career pursuits. “My parents taught me the value of hard work and the importance of being a good person,” she explains. “But the combination of them was what I’ve had to figure out. It shaped what I liked as far as my personal life was concerned. Without infringing on their privacy, that was it: Who your mom is and who your dad is and how they love you and teach you to love become the positive and negative patterns that you have to overcome in life.”

Lopez and I meet for breakfast at the Polo Lounge at the Beverly Hills Hotel, at a table in the very back of the garden, in front of which a large potted privet creates the safety of vagueness. The restaurant is a sort of default meeting place for the residents of high-hedged neighboring enclaves such as Bel Air and Holmby Hills, and she arrives without security. Privacy is important to her, but it’s also important that people understand that she is not asking for anyone’s sympathy for the tariffs of fame. “The other day,” she recalls, “one of my kids said, ‘I want to go to the flea market.’ I was like, ‘Oh, you want me and Ben to come?’ They said, ‘You know, it’s such a thing when you go, Mom.’ It hurt my feelings. I get it. They want time with their friends when they aren’t being watched and followed and photographed. It’s a thing. Nobody’s complaining, but it’s a thing.”

She eats a bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon and sugar, a popular Puerto Rican breakfast, as her mother made it, and drinks a decaf cappuccino (she gave up caffeine years ago). She wears a black denim jacket with the collar turned up, her hair is pulled into a tight bun, her skin is preternaturally youthful—perhaps the twin effect of DNA and the olive oil–rich tinctures in her JLo Beauty line. (To answer a question that many people asked me after we met, yes. She is absolutely as beautiful in person.)

“I’m not one of these tortured artists,” Lopez says. “Yes, I’ve lived with tremendous sadness, like anybody else, many, many times in my life, and pain. But when I make my best music or my best art is when I’m happy and full and feel lots of love.” Such was the mood that surrounded the writing and recording of her forthcoming album, which will be her first in nearly a decade. I’m not allowed to reveal the title, but suffice it to say that it serves as a kind of bookend to This Is Me…Then, the album she released 20 years ago in the heady early days of her relationship with Affleck.

Lopez’s longtime manager, Benny Medina, told me that Lopez has a way of falling in love with whatever she is immersed in at the moment. While she has several films out in the coming months, including the rom-com-with-a-twist Shotgun Wedding this winter and The Mother, in which she stars as an ex-assassin, in the middle of next year, it is this album that pulls Lopez’s enthusiasm at the moment. She says that it will be the most honest work she has ever done, “kind of a culmination of who I am as a person and an artist. People think they know things about what happened to me along the way, the men I was with—but they really have no idea, and a lot of times they get it so wrong. There’s a part of me that was hiding a side of myself from everyone. And I feel like I’m at a place in my life, finally, where I have something to say about it.” She lends me her AirPods so that I can listen to a few rough cuts from the record. There are plaintive, confessional songs, reflections on the trials of her past, upbeat jams celebrating love and sex. As I’m listening, I notice that she has closed her eyes, and she is dancing in her chair and singing along to her own voice. For a moment it occurs to me that she might be treating me to a little performance, but no, she is just so into it.

You might say that Lopez has been in a kind zone since 2019–2020, the period that she regards as her career’s peak so far. She delivered a critically heralded performance in Hustlers, her most successful movie to date; she completed a 38-show, international concert tour, also her most successful to date; she walked the runway for Versace in a reincarnation of her iconic green jungle-print Grammys dress on the occasion of its 20th anniversary (and held her own, she thought, in a sea of 19-year-old models); she co-headlined the Super Bowl halftime show; and she turned 50. “It was like, fashion! movies! music! It was all coming together,” she recalls. She also felt emboldened to take a public political stand, adding a segment to her Super Bowl set in which Latinx children, among them her own child, Emme, sang her hit “Let’s Get Loud” from inside cages—a rebuke against the Trump administration’s injustices at the border. According to Lopez, the NFL initially wanted to cut the act from her program, but she held firm.

“Early in my career people would ask about politics, but I always felt like people didn’t really want to hear from an actor or somebody who sang pop songs,” she remembers. “Like a shut-up-and-dance kind of situation. I didn’t have the confidence, and I didn’t want to make a mistake. But you get to a point in your life where you realize, if something’s wrong, you say it. If you’re not doing something about it then you’re kind of complicit. Whether it was kids in cages, or kids getting shot in the street by police—all these things where it was just like, What the hell is going on around here? When did we lose our way? There were so many awful, ugly attitudes coming to light. It was really sad because it didn’t need to be political. It was about being a good person, loving your neighbor, all the things that people say they stand for but then they don’t practice because somebody’s not the same as them or somebody has a different sexual orientation or gender identity or a different race. It’s like, Really? You can’t just do you? You can’t just be you and be happy and let somebody else be happy too?”

She says the Affleck-Lopez home in Los Angeles is a place where this newly blended family (her 14-year-old twins, his three children from his marriage to Jennifer Garner, ranging in age from 10 to 17) is passionate and vocal about a range of political and social issues. “This generation is beautifully aware and involved and brave,” she says, “and they will call bullshit on stuff really quick. I want my kids to stand up for themselves and the things they care about. I want all the little girls in the world to get loud. Get loud! Say it when it’s wrong. Don’t be afraid. I was afraid for a long time: afraid to not get the job, to piss people off, afraid that people wouldn’t like me. No.”

Lopez’s intimates know that she has always held a candle for Affleck. Shortly after she and the retired baseball great Alex Rodriguez called off their engagement in early 2021, she got an email from the actor-director, who had just come out of a relationship with the actress Ana de Armas. A magazine had asked Affleck for a comment about Lopez, and he wanted her to know that he had provided a rave. They kept talking. They started visiting each other at home. “Obviously we weren’t trying to go out in public,” she explains. “But I never shied away from the fact that for me, I always felt like there was a real love there, a true love there. People in my life know that he was a very, very special person in my life. When we reconnected, those feelings for me were still very real.”

She says that she and Affleck are as stunned as anyone else to have managed to recapture an early, important love, and the fairy-tale ending-ness of it all continues to amuse them. (This is not to say that she is rolling her eyes. Lopez believes in the fairy tale. A plaque displayed at their wedding, held at Affleck’s home in Savannah, Georgia, this August, a month after they were legally married, read, Love always hopes and always perseveres.) “I don’t know that I recommend this for everybody,” she says. “Sometimes you outgrow each other, or you just grow differently. The two of us, we lost each other and found each other. Not to discredit anything in between that happened, because all those things were real too. All we’ve ever wanted was to kind of come to a place of peace in our lives where we really felt that type of love that you feel when you’re very young and wonder if you can have that again. Does it exist? Is it real? All those questions that I think everyone has. You go through all these relationships, and you’re searching and you’re connecting and you’re disconnecting with people, and you’re like, God, is this just what life is? Like a carousel, roller coaster, carnival ride? And then it settles. But the journey to that is the mystery for everybody.”

Though she did not use this word, my sense is that Lopez and Affleck are both in a kind of recovery, in their separate ways. Affleck has struggled with alcoholism for more than 20 years and more recently worked hard toward building a lasting sobriety. If Lopez has had a parallel compulsion, it is in the domain of love, and she has done her work, too. “I have to forgive myself for the things that I did that I’m not proud of, the choices that I made that worked against me,” she explains. “Self-love is really about boundaries. Learning what you’re comfortable with and putting up the boundaries, not being afraid of the consequences. Knowing that in taking care of yourself, everything will turn out okay, that people will treat you the way you want to be treated and your life will feel good to you. For a long time, I was just like, Yes, do whatever you want! I can take it, I’ll be here, because I’m really strong, and I’ll be fine. Little by little it chips away at your self-worth, your self-esteem, your soul.”

The couple has brought a lot of thought to the project of integrating their households, and they are learning about parenting from each other. Affleck’s ex-wife is, Lopez says, “an amazing co-parent, and they work really well together.” Lopez does not have the benefit of such a relationship with her ex-husband, who lives on the East Coast. “The transition is a process that needs to be handled with so much care,” she says. “They have so many feelings. They’re teens. But it’s going really well so far. What I hope to cultivate with our family is that his kids have a new ally in me and my kids have a new ally in him, someone who really loves and cares about them but can have a different perspective and help me see things that I can’t see with my kids because I’m so emotionally tied up.”

Of course, Lopez is raising children with a great deal more privilege than she enjoyed at their age, and she hopes that her own model for hard work goes some way toward keeping them grounded. “It’s hard, in its own way, when you don’t have to fight for things, because then you don’t learn how to be a fighter,” she says, boxing at the air with her fists. “I had to learn how to be a fighter. I wanted to give them a life that I didn’t have, but they don’t get to have the experience of something that is also helpful, which is developing that survivalist mentality.” She has made a point of stepping out of her mother’s shadow as a parent, trying not to raise her voice, keeping her temper, not matching her children when they rev up. “I really wanted to find a better way than having to put the fear in them. It’s like, I can hold a boundary with you but also be your ally. That’s the balance, where they respect you enough because you act in a way that they can look up to. It’s what I feel like I want to do because when I was young that wasn’t what it was.”

And yet Guadalupe Rodríguez worked hard to teach her daughters to be good as well as great. It’s a lesson Lopez is keen to pass on. “I’ll stress to them, like, I want you to do well in school,” she adds (her twins started high school this fall), “and then my son always finishes the sentence. He goes, ‘But you care more that we’re good people.’ I say, ‘That’s right. I do.’ The beauty of being a parent is that you think you’re going to teach them all these things, and you do. You pass on all the things that you know, all the knowledge you have. But at the end of the day they wind up teaching you so much and reminding you of the things you need to know about life and how to love somebody and how to care for people, that in your 20s and 30s, as you’re doing your own thing, you can lose sight of. We get so self-centered at certain points in our lives when we have our goals and our things.”

Affleck, for his part, is glad that his wife tolerates his singing in the shower. To him, the big draw all these years later was not the ways Lopez has changed but the ways she has not. “There is something innately, magically kind and good and full of love at the heart of who Jennifer is,” he explains. “That’s exactly the person I remember from 20 years ago. Maybe she sees all the changes she’s made, whereas when I see her, mostly I just see someone who has retained, against the odds, the thing about her that always made her the most incredible to me: a heart that seems boundless with love. She is my idea of the kind of person I want to be.”

Lopez has grand, multimedia plans for her current musical project. She wants to create a musical odyssey in the manner of Pink Floyd’s The Wall, she says—but with a message about hope and love. Perhaps the most poignant moment in Halftime, the documentary about her Super Bowl year released on Netflix last June, occurs when Lopez is reading out loud from an article about herself in Glamour. “It’s thrilling to see a criminally underrated performer”—here she pauses, and tears well in her eyes—“get her due from prestige film outlets.” In fact Lopez did not quite get her due, having been denied an Academy Award nomination, which some in the industry viewed as a snub. A Grammy continues to elude her, too. Despite her stardom, she has spent years fighting for credibility, and for all her artistic accomplishment, to some people she is, simply, Jennifer Lopez for a living. This hurts less than it once did.

“I’ve always felt like an outsider, in the fashion world, the music world, the movie world,” she explains. “I feel like everybody knows each other and all the artists talk, and you go to the Met ball and all the girls are hanging out together, and I’m not in that group. Maybe that’s just insecurity. It’s not because I’m antisocial or I don’t want to make friends. I’ve always been kind of a march-to-the-beat-of-my-own-drum, loner-type person. I’m like, I’ll just stay focused on my thing. I’ve always kind of felt like that. I still do. But I try! It used to be about the idea of validation in other people’s eyes. It really used to be. Because I wanted to be part of the club. But I don’t anymore. There’s something bigger that I’m after. It’s about touching people’s lives and being touched.”

Twenty years ago, in an era that has sometimes been referred to as Bennifer 1.0, Affleck gave Lopez the nickname “Little.” At six foot four, he is nearly a foot taller. When they reunited, he told her that he wasn’t sure if that old moniker still applied, that she seemed somehow too fully realized to be called “Little” even affectionately. But the pet name has returned, even as Lopez has come to seem like the dewy-skinned den mother of us all, a force for good on a sometimes dark planet. Growing up, getting there, has been her life’s work, on top of all that…work. “You come out the other side, and you’re better, you’re stronger, you’re good on your own,” she says. “But there’s a little piece of that former self that was totally open, innocent, and unafraid, that is gone. Sometimes I mourn that, because I’m such a romantic.” Her voice has softened to a whisper. “And because I loved that person so much.

“My whole life, my whole music career was just about love: every movie I picked, every album I made. Even though I’m super proud of who I am today, and I wouldn’t change a fucking thing—and I can finally say that, as a human being, as a woman, as a partner, as a wife, as a coworker, as a mother and stepmom—there’s just that little piece where you feel like, That old me? She was sweet.”

#jennifer lopez #us vogue #press/article #2022

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whatisbraincells · 3 years ago

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people wanted it(so did I) so here is my therapy au for NWH(SPOILERS)

I called it The Spider-Men AU or alternatively Spider-Bros

They are brothers

The spider really likes the Parker boys, since it bit all three

Tom is Peter, Tobey and Andrew are Tobey and Andrew because fuck creative naming

Peter’s trans, all three are bi

Peter is 15, Andrew is 17 and Tobey is 19

Tobey’s doing online college

They have bunkbeds and fouton in their room

They fight over the top bunk a lot

Peter’s dating MJ, Tobey’s dating Wade and Andrew is dating Harry

Their suits are very similar, Pete’s has black, Andrew’s has Navy and Tobey’s has blue but otherwise the same

They tell the public they’re “the Spider Men”

The public refers to them as “the small one”(Pete) “the lanky one”(Andrew) and “the responsible one”(Tobey) or more offically “Navy” “Blue” and “Black”

They call each other “little shit”(Pete) “bitch face”(Andrew) “mother fucker”(Tobey) when on the job

Aunt May knows and approves, though she gets worried about her boys

She’s very supportive

Tobey and Andrew wear their suits under their clothes, but it’s quite hard for Peter to piss in so he has to change

This leads to a lot of “PETE HURRY UP” “THIS IS CIS PRIVLAGE”

They are pure chaos

“MOTHER FUCKER WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT” “YOU’RE NOT MY MOM BITCH FACE”

*Pete misses a swing after being chased and falls in front of Andy* “nice of you to join us”

*goon gets sent rolling in the other direction* “they see me rollin’ the hatin’”

*Tobey and Peter talking about math and science and how it will help the situation, Andy knowing full well he is of the same intelligence* “y’all are nerds”

*electro does something* *all three boys sarcastically at the same time* “Gasp, shocking”

They quote vines a lot

Many people have theorized that the group are teenagers

Lots of hair fussing

When Andy sees Pete in the hall, he punches his shoulder then fusses his hair.

If there’s some kind of problem, he fusses his hair first, then punches his shoulder

They have an unspoken agreement with the old ladies that live above them not say anything when they see the boys sneak back in through the window

Tobey is the least sneaky, he makes a lot of noise

Tobey’s organic webs are an anomaly in the family

They develop the web fluid for Andy and Pete from his webs

Toxic masculinity? Never heard of her

I really wanna put Miles in this somehow but that would be few years into the spidermaning tm and I wanna start this around a few months in

Peter’s spidey isn’t openly trans because it’s nobody’s business but they agree to do an interview and the interviewer says something transphobic and the other boys are like “oh she had it coming” and Peter just laughs and looks at the camera and says, “I’m trans dumbass”

For pride month, they spider man with bi flags as capes

Pete and Andy walk to school together every day because it gives them a bit of normality

Tobey on the other hand has unlimited webbing and swings wherever he wants

None of them will admit they are hurt so they always drag each other to the hospital where they have an agreement with Dr Cristine Palmer on behalf of Dr Stephen Strange to patch them up and not say anything

They’re about to go into a big battle and Andy just grabs his brothers shoulders and says “I love you guys”

(They say it back)

Tobey refers to them as his baby brothers and Peter refers to them as his big brothers. Andrew calls them each respectively

When Pete first brings MJ home Andy gets all fake offended when he doesn’t introduce them

“Peter where are your manners young man”

“UGH MJ these are my brothers, Andrew and Tobey”

“Thank you.”

Tobey chaprones homecoming much to his brothers’ dismay

A convo that absolutely happened

Pete: “Is it still ok to kill spiders now?”

Andy: “yeah… wait”

Tobey: “OH MY GOD IS IT”

Matt Murdock is a family friend and he stops by for dinner every once and a while(very often May’s microwave dinners and taste in takeout is very good)

They throw his laundry in with theirs because he doesn’t have that much clothes(usually it’s in the same wash as the spidersuits so all the blood gets out together)

They also groccery shop for him sometimes because the stores don’t have brail

He knows about the boys being spidermen and Daredevil is seen teaming up with them on a regular basis

I like to think he has a cordinated high five with all three of them

He comes over for Christmas dinner

Along with the Moraleses(I snuck my boy in there) because they are also family friends

Wade joins the year that he starts dating Tobey ‘cause he has no family

Tobey wraps all presents that aren’t for him because Andy and Pete suck at it and Aunt May gets overwhelmed

I’ll add more when I come up with it and add the ao3 link when I write it

Request to be @ed when I post and I will try my best to

#nwh spoilers #spider man no way home #andrew garfield #tom holland #tobey maguire #spider man #spider men au #matt murdock #spideychelle #parksborn #spideypool #vyas stupid hyper specific rants

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

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crush

pov. you have a crush on your brother’s best friend

request. Hi! Congrats on 2.4k!!🤩 For the event, may I request an au where reader is Yuuta’s sister? Can be gn/fem reader anything is fine. And they fall in love with Toge? Fluff fluff fluff please

notes. awww i love this request, i have a fat crush on toge so i enjoyed writing this! i made this a modern high school au, by the way!

You stare disappointedly at the black wrappings of your bento, sighing because your brother took the wrong one again. Waving goodbye to your friend, you made your way to your brother’s classroom, knocking on the door to get his attention. However, it isn’t your brother who’d stopped laughing mid-conversation. Instead, it’s a familiar-looking platinum haired guy, his purple eyes glimmering with mischief as he slapped your brother’s arm.

“Yo, Yuta, I think someone’s looking for you,” you heard him say.

Meanwhile, you just stood there blankly, your throat growing dry because he was cute – like actually handsome boy-next-door cute.

You’ve met lots of cute guys before, but they were all very immature that you found no interest in others. He, on the other hand, was nothing less of polite, shooting up from his seat because your stupid brother was too invested in his video games. The guy flashed you a bright smile, the beauty of his face up close enhanced that you felt your heart squealing.

Not that you’d ever show that, of course, so you just reciprocated with a polite smile to hide your frantic nerves.

“Hi! You here for Yuta-kun?”

“Y-yes.”

Before he could speak, an arm had shoved him aside. Yuta stood before you, his frown apparent while his friend stayed at the side, a smile still playing on his lips. It took all your energy to not stare at him too much in fear he’d easily read through you.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“You swapped lunches with me,” you shoved the black bento box to his chest, stepping closer to your brother to whisper in his ear. “Is that a friend of yours?”

“Yeah, he’s Toge. He used to play with us a lot before he moved away, but his family’s back in town. Don’t you remember him?”

“No…”

“Toge, come here!” he called out to his retreating friend, the guy freezing in his tracks before he jogged up to where you were quickly. Oh crap, you kept gushing, he really was cute. He placed an arm around your brother’s shoulder, nodding at you as a greeting. “Remember my sister? You used to play with her a lot when we were kids. You kept stealing her Barbies, remember?”

“I did?” Toge looked shocked, his back bending into a fake bow. “I’m very sorry for that, but don’t worry, I don’t do that anymore.”

“I don’t play with Barbies at this age!” you defended, heat spreading all over your skin when he winked at you. Both of them laughed at your flushed face, and you crossed your arms on your chest, glaring at your brother. Really though, you were just trying to hide the fact you were very attracted to his friend, even more so now that he was actually familiar. “Stupid Yuta-nii.”

“You’re cute,” Toge randomly piped in.

If you were feeling shy before, you couldn’t speak now.

“Dude, don’t talk about my sister like that,” Yuta gagged, slapping his friend on the chest who effortlessly ducked away, his laughter like music in your ears. You stared at him for who knew how long, his happiness absorbed in your body as you found yourself giggling back. Yuta, on the other hand, wasn’t as impressed, rolling his eyes at his friend before turning to you. “You should go back to class. The bell will ring soon.”

“Okay,” you nodded quietly, hesitating for a moment. Surely it wouldn’t be too weird, right? Deciding to heck with it though, you balled your hands into fists, mustering the courage to look him in the eye as you said, “See you, Toge-senpai.”

He simply shrugged his brows up as a farewell, and just like that, you dashed down the hall so fast you put Quicksilver to shame.

Great. Out of all the days it had to storm, it had to be on the rare moment you forgot your umbrella. Unsurprisingly enough, it was Yuta’s fault for making you forget it. Both of you had slept in too much, but instead of being the responsible older brother, he left you to prepare the meals all by yourself while he spent half an hour fixing his hair. In your haste to arrive on school on time, you’d forgotten to pick up your umbrella, and now the misfortune of it slapped you right on the face.

“Tch, how can I go home?” you glared at no one in particular.

Yuta had to stay behind for baseball practice in the covered court, leaving you all alone to take the bus by yourself. Well, not that it mattered, going home alone was way better than listening to your brother rant about video games and girls he wanted to talk to in class.

Shifting your weight from one foot to another, brows pinched as you mulled on the different ways you could come back home, you came up with two options.

One, run like hell and risk getting sick from this weather, or two, wait for the rain to subside.

But ugh, you wanted to go home already. Before you knew it, you’d unknowingly pouted, arms hugged to yourself while you cursed your stupid brother a hundred times over in your head. Too lost in your own thoughts, you failed to hear humming from behind you, a scream nearly ripping from your lips when someone planted himself beside you.

“Hey, you’re here!”

You gazed up at him wide-eyed, subconsciously stepping away to keep your beating heart at bay. “H-hello, Toge-senpai.”

“Please, just call me Toge,” he offered, opening his umbrella before his eyes landed on you. Probably realizing you were quite helpless, Toge smiled, nudging you to come closer to him. “Hey, I’ll walk you home. You guys still live in the same block?”

“Yeah.”

And so there you were, debating that maybe Yuta’s carelessness wasn’t such a bad thing. After all, if it would lead to your crush taking you home, then you weren’t complaining. Funny how the weather seemed so gloomy, a huge contrast to the sunshine you radiated at the sheer happiness of living out your most romantic fantasies. It was silly, actually, to crush on your brother’s best friend of all people, but Toge was so nice and handsome – it was kind of impossible not to like him.

In the span of two weeks that you’d known him, he’d been nothing but friendly. And no, you weren’t going to admit you started visiting their classroom more often than before, simply because you wanted to get a glimpse of him.

Toge pulled you out of your lovesick trance, his arm landing on your waist before he shifted you beside him. You noticed he was now closer to the road while you were on the safer side of the sidewalk, and god, did he just step closer? He was close enough that your arms brushed with each step, sending a wave of heat that you bit back by tugging your lips with your teeth.

“For warmth,” he explained as if reading your mind, arm raised lazily in a shrug. “Wouldn’t want you to get cold.”

“Thank you,” you muttered, hiding your face under your scarf.

You and Toge were silent the whole time, but it was a silence you adored. Very rarely that you found comfort in silence with others, but with Toge, it felt so easy – so natural. You hadn’t even realized you were already at home, Toge chuckling at your spaced out self. He bid his farewell then, his back facing yours as he walked away when you blurted, “Oh, my parents aren’t home. I think you should stay first to let the rain calm down a bit. You live a little far from school, right?”

Toge looked a little surprised, his eyes shooting up to the sky with a sigh. Inwardly, you were screaming because you just invited him inside, but Toge was already waddling back to you before you could regret it.

“Yeah, thanks for the invitation. I don’t think I should go home in this weather too,” he said, following you across the threshold. He looked around in awe, his shoes left in the front door before he crossed the living room with you, his eyes shining with nostalgia and happiness. “Wow, your place hasn’t changed one bit. I missed being here.”

You flashed him a smile. Turns out it wasn’t that bad – Toge being comfortable made you comfortable. Aside from the nervousness partnered with shyness from having a crush, you applauded yourself for being able to look him in the eye as you asked, “Do you want tea, coffee…?”

“Water is fine. Thanks,” he shrugged off his jacket and placed it behind a chair, chuckling when you nodded too fast. Toge, much to your dismay (or delight?!) trailed behind you in the kitchen, having no business looking that handsome as he leaned against the counter. Him being unaware of his effect on you was even worse, and you bit the inside of your cheeks, trembling as you poured him a glass of water.

From behind you, Toge snickered, “Why are you so jittery? Do I make you nervous?”

“A-a little.”

“Why? Am I intimidating?” he appeared beside you out of nowhere, so close that you could count his lashes. You leaned back with a muffled squeal, eyes wide at the proximity. Toge, as always, seemed completely unaware of it, taking his time to assess your features with a hand on his chin as if all the answers he was looking for was written all over your face. “Yuta told me I was very easy to approach though.”

“No, it’s not that, I just…” you stuttered, giving in with weak knees and turning your head to the side. Your heart, your poor heart! “Crap, I hate myself.”

“You were saying something?”

“I, uhm, it’s just,” you panicked, mind failing to function now of all times. “I think…I have a crush on you?”

The room fell silent.

Realization dawning on you, you flattened your palms together in a begging motion. Toge merely blinked back at you, and you were so close to just kneeling to the gods to rid yourself of this moment forever. “Please forget everything I said, I’m so sorry! Gosh, Yuta’s going to kill me, forget I said anything, I didn’t mean to be weird.”

“Hey, chill, it’s fine!” he laughed, helping you get up just before you fell in exasperation. Then, he smirked at you, wiggling his brows in the process. “I kind of knew that anyway, to be honest.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I mean, you asked me to marry you when we were kids,” he informed you, but the memory never played back in your mind. It wasn’t a lie though, you really did ask him that when you were kids. Embarrassment taking hold of you, you groaned behind your palms, feeling like your heart was going to explode every now and then.

“Oh my gosh…”

“It’s okay,” Toge peeled your arms away from your face, his grin nothing less of teasing the moment he’s greeted by your shyness. “I did say yes – let’s just wait after high school, yeah?”

#inumaki toge x reader #toge x reader #inumaki to/ge x reader #inumaki to/ge fluff #inumaki to/ge x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen romance #inumaki x reader #inumaki to/ge imagines #inumaki to/ge x reader imagines #inumaki to/ge romance #inumaki to/ge x reader romance #inumaki toge x reader romance #inumaki toge x reader fluff #inumaki toge imagines #PLEASEEE I LIKE HIM SO MUCH BRRRRR #suki: 2.4k milestone event

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bucephaly · 6 months ago

Note

I have what might be a dumb question. One of the things in the list of 'reasons why we don't show up on the Rolls' you posted is 'my ancestors pretended to be Romani'. Is this why my friend who is both a claimed, actual member of the Cherokee Nation and Romani on his mom's side gets called a liar online so much? He's kind of learned to just say one and not the other because people think this is an impossible combo or what a white person pretending to be Native would say and my whole life, I've never understood why. I'm Arab and Chinese and no one ever accuses me of faking anything, even though there's a lot more distance between my parents' home countries than there is between places Cherokee and Romani people live. Is this, like, a lie multiple people have told? Is that why my best friend gets such side-eye?

Who is calling them a fake? Natives, or nonnatives?

I'm gunna be honest, some nonnatives will call anyone a fake because they don't fit the stereotype. I've had people on Facebook argue with me because I have an anglo American name, even though cherokees with anglo / European type names are very common. Our chief during Removal was named John Ross haha. Sometimes settlers don't like to accept that natives still exist and so will call anyone a fake.

I'm not sure though. I've not heard many people claim their ancestors pretended to be Romani, way more often you hear stuff like melungeon or black Dutch [both of which are words for mixed black / white i think, not native]

Not sure in what contexts he's being called fake though. There are lots of different scenarios where someone with legit connections will be called fake or at least asked for proof. Sometimes some natives can be really weird towards mixed people, and it's really standard for cherokees to sorta ask about family / whether someone is enrolled but that isn't calling people fake so I'm assuming that's not what you mean.

Maybe someone who knows more about it can chime in, I've not been reconnecting for that long so maybe I just haven't seen it ? But mostly I havent really seen anything about mixed native Romani or people claiming their ancestors pretended to be Romani outside of that one post.

#asks

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soulmate-game · 4 years ago

Text

Maribat March 2021 @maribatmarch-2k21

Day 1: Found Family

“Ah! Bonjour!” A cheery voice called, as a short Eurasian girl bound over to the unfairly intimidating mob of tall people with sharp eyes. Chloe had called in a favor. “My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Chloe told me that your tour guide cancelled at the last minute, so she blackmail—sorry, begged me to fill in for them. You are the Wayne’s, non?”

The one at the front of the group, clearly Bruce Wayne since Marinette didn’t live under a rock and had seen the man on several American news broadcasts before, nodded and cleared his throat. Man, was he intimidating. Even when he shot her a dazzling smile that was sure to blind Paparazzi with fake cheer. It was a nice smile, Marinette wasn’t about to deny. But it was empty. Distant. And Marinette wasn’t going to buy it for a second.

“Yes, that’s us. Mademoiselle Bourgeois mentioned she had asked a close friend of hers to take care of our tour.”

Marinette nodded again, clasping her hands behind her back. “I guarantee, you won’t miss anything the tour guide would have shown you. In fact, Chloe mentioned that you all were very curious about the now retired Parisian heroes, right? My former best friend ran the Ladyblog back when they were active. I am more than confident that I can answer any questions you have while we go through the city.”

A boy with a white streak in his hair rose his hand, as if he was in a class and needed to wait to be called on. Which, considering the sheer size of their family, Marinette was actually grateful for. But damn, this was another imposing figure. Slightly taller than even the six-foot-three-inches that Bruce Wayne owned, he was solidly built and rocked a brown leather jacket and ripped black jeans. Marinette smiled and nodded for him to speak.

“How old are you? Because I don’t know if twelve year olds are allowed to do guided tours,” there was an obvious tease in his voice, but there was also legitimate concern in his blue-green eyes. Marinette almost missed that concern amid her quickly building annoyance. She even felt her eyes twitch.

“I’m turning eighteen in a few months if you need to know, Monsieur,” she evened out the bite in her voice with an overly sweet smile. “And if you want to get lost and possibly pickpocketed in the busy streets of Paris, then please continue to make comments on my height. If not, we can begin our tour and you might even enjoy it.”

Several Wayne’s snickered at her comeback, one man in particular elbowing the white haired gentleman with a little too much glee. Even the stoic Bruce laughed softly, and a boy with enough bags under his eyes to make the airport jealous nearly fell over himself with his suppressed laughter.

The man himself just snorted, sending her a lopsided smirk that oddly radiated approval. It was almost as if she had passed some sort of test.

“My name’s Jason, Pixie. You already know B. The guy trying to break my ribs,” he pointedly shoved off the one who had elbowed him, “is Dick. He’s Bruce’s first adoptive casualty. The one that looks like a zombie is Tim, we might need to take a break to get him more coffee before he passes out halfway through. The one who hasn’t stopped glaring at you is Damian, the badass redhead is Barbara but we all call her Babs. The annoying blonde is Stephany, the other cool badass over there is Cass. She doesn’t talk much. And the one trying to pretend he doesn’t know us is Duke.”

Each member he introduced gave her a little wave or nod. Even Damian managed a short nod of acknowledgement before resuming his glare. He looked to be a couple years younger than her, so she just brushed it off as teenage drama.

“Alright then! It is very nice to meet you all. Now, Chloe did inform me that you guys are very multilingual, which is another reason she asked me instead of one of our other friends. If you ever need it, I obviously am fluent in both French and English. But added to that, I am fluent in Cantonese, Mandarin, Italian, and I know basic survival Japanese. I also know French Sign Language, though I’m not sure if that’s very useful for you unfortunately. If you ever need to communicate non-verbally, I will do my best to accommodate that. Now, I believe you guys were scheduled to start the tour with a visit to the Louvre, non? Right this way.”

As Marinette led the large group out of the Grand Paris, they didn’t bother taking time to admire the sights before asking questions.

“Have you ever met one of the heroes?” Dick, who might have been shorter than Jason and Bruce but was muscular enough to still inspire caution (and admiration), asked. His blue eyes seemingly stared right through Marinette as he continued; “If you’re almost eighteen, then they must have been active through a lot of your school career.”

Marinette smiled. “They did only retire last year,” she agreed with a nod. “Yes, I have met all of the Parisian heroes at least once,” she snorted at a stray thought. “In fact, I met Chat Noir quite a lot. You see, my old College was basically ground zero for a lot of akuma attacks. And by a lot, I mean a majority of them,” she shook her head before pausing to get everyone to cross a street. “After a while, Chat Noir started calling me ‘princess’ to make fun of how often he had to save me. He’s an annoying ass.”

Despite her words, everyone behind her could easily hear the fondness there. They all traded glances. What if this was a Lois and SuperMan situation? Regardless, they all had a suspicion that Marinette knew more about the heroes than she let on. Or, at least more about Chat Noir.

“When you say that your school was a hotspot for Akuma attacks,” Bruce spoke up cautiously, his Dad Senses going haywire. He didn’t like how nonchalantly she had said it— she was far too casual. Sure enough, he watched as the muscles between her shoulders stiffened slightly at the conversation change. “What do you mean? Surely it couldn’t have been that bad if the school is still around.”

Marinette sucked her teeth, grimacing. “The school is still there, yeah, but only because of Ladybug’s ability. You’ve heard about the Cure, right?” It was Tim who answered her;

“Yeah. It fixed the damage done during a fight, right?” He asked, tilting his head a little. Marinette ignored her brief thought that the gesture made him look like a curious puppy. She sighed.

“Yeah. But when they say damage, they mean everything. Injuries, collateral. Death,” she said the last example darkly, far too much weight behind the word for it to be meaningless. She heard Jason hiss in sympathy. “But there are good things. The Cure also erased anyone’s memories of dying besides the vague knowledge that it did happen, so there isn’t much trauma there to unpack. Not as much as there could have been anyway,” she assured them. “And I’m one of the lucky ones. I never died, and I was never Akumatized.”

“Hmph,” Damian’s voice cut through the brief silence that followed her admission. She looked back at him to see his sharp green eyes staring right into her. “You don’t honestly believe that’s lucky.” It wasn’t a question. Marinette clenched her jaw, turning around and ignoring him.

Because, no. It wasn’t luck. It wasn’t lucky that she was the only one that remembered everything— all of the deaths, all of the Akumatizations, everything that others mercifully forgot. Since she lived through all of it, she remembered all of it. And survivor’s guilt is nothing to scoff at.

But she wasn’t about to reveal her trauma, or at the very least the full scope of it, to people she had just met and was leading on a tour.

“If you look to the left, you’ll see a statue that was made depicting Ladybug and Chat Noir back during the first years of their activity,” she suddenly told them, gesturing to the still-standing statue. Nobody missed the obvious topic change, but nobody commented on it either. Turns out the statue was something they had been looking forward to seeing in person, Tim even went up to take a few photos with his camera. Barbara took a few circles around the statue, easily pivoting her wheelchair around it as if she was trying to see every angle and imperfection possible. Marinette couldn’t help but chuckle fondly at the sight.

“Your family are pretty big fans, huh?” She asked Cass and Duke, the only ones that had stayed back with her. Duke snorted, and Cass gave her a small grin.

“They like to keep up to date with all the heroes,” Duke answered with a shrug. “Since we’re so high profile, it isn’t weird for us to be saved by one here or there even when we’re away from Gotham.”

Marinette just gave him an odd look, furrowing her brows. “But the Miraculous team has been disbanded since HawkMoth was defeated,” she reminded them. “There’s no need for them to save anybody anymore.”

“Old habits,” Cass spoke up softly, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes locked with Marinette’s. “Not easy to break.”

The smaller woman had a feeling that Cass wasn’t talking about her family’s habit of keeping up to date on heroes.

“Alright! We need to head to the next stop or we might not have time to see everything!”

The tour went pretty similarly. The walks between stops were pleasant, and filled with questions about the period of time where HawkMoth was active. Marinette wasn’t even the least bit surprised nor put off; everyone was curious about those years now that the tourism restriction was lifted and people could ask freely about it. Besides the many questions about the Heroes, Marinette found the group to be very pleasant company. They were polite, but also rowdy in a very endearing way. She caught a lot of inside jokes they had with each other, and a lot of good natured teasing and fighting. They even managed to rope her into it somehow, and she found herself snidely teasing Damian or casually threatening Tim with not allowing them a coffee break. She even got to ride on Jason’s shoulders for a bit after he made another comment on her height that she Did Not Appreciate. But the ride she got made it worth it.

But soon the sun was high in the sky, and it was about time for them to take a lunch break. They had all been walking for hours with only a few chances to rest, and honestly Marinette was impressed that none of them seemed too tired out by it.

“Alright,” she put her hands on her hips proudly. “Since some of you won’t stop whining about needing coffee or being hungry— Dick, don’t you dare buy anything from that vendor! I’m gonna lead you all to my parent’s bakery so we can have lunch and caffeinate all of you. And conveniently enough,” she smiled widely. “The bakery is right across the street from my old College! So you’ll be able to get a look at where the majority of Akuma attacks happened, and maybe I can tell you a few specific stories if you want,” she offered. There were a couple cheers (Tim and Dick) from the crowd and everyone seemed pretty pleased with the next step in their tour. Smiling, Marinette turned and began to lead them in the direction of her home.

Sirens blared, a fire truck zooming down the street next to them.

Headed in the same direction.

Marinette frowned, watching it go. “That’s weird. I hope everyone’s okay, whatever happened,” she mused idly. But as they kept going forward, the sirens didn’t get any softer. If anything, they started getting louder again after a while. Marinette was visibly concerned by then, her pace picking up. “This is my neighborhood,” she told the solemn group behind her. “I know everyone on this street—“ they rounded the corner, and Marinette stopped in her tracks. Her world ground to a halt.

There was the fire truck, stopped right in front of her bakery.

Which was completely ablaze.

A string of curses flew out of her mouth, the little Eurasian wasting no more time before sprinting towards the building. She could hear people yelling at her to wait, slow down, stop! But she ignored them. The only thing on her mind was that her home was on fire.

“Marinette! Wait!” Dick reached out to grab her arm, but like a snake Marinette easily slipped out of his grip and continued forward. Steph was next, deciding to just tackle Marinette— to no avail. The Parisian just shouldered the bigger woman off of her with pure adrenaline fueling her muscles, and everyone else knew by then that they could not stop her. The Wayne’s decided all they could do was jog behind Marinette, keeping her in sight as they tried to gauge the damage.

“The top floors don’t look like they have even been touched by the fire yet,” Tim whispered, though his eyes flew between the building and their tour guide. Marinette was speaking rapidly with a firefighter that wasn’t immediately busy, trying to get information. But before anyone could decipher what was said, Marinette tore a large strip off the bottom of her shirt and tied it in a hasty mask around her mouth.

“Wait!” Bruce was the first to realize what was happening, with his years of experience with self sacrificing children and their stupid stunts. But Marinette managed to kick him away before he could grab her, dashing into the inferno without paying any heed to the many protests that followed her.

The group of Gothamites could do nothing but watch the flaming building, then. If they went inside, it would only overcrowd a hazardous area. Minutes passed, and there was movement in the fire. Out of the doorway came Marinette and a firefighter, both having to work together to carry the body of a large man outside. The sight of the man made the Gotham family blink— he was as big as Bane! And that was nothing to scoff at. But despite his unusual size and muscle mass, the man had all the signs of being a normal civilian.

Marinette didn’t stop there. She ran back in. Coming out a lot more quickly this time with a barely conscious Asian woman— everyone saw the resemblance between her and this new woman immediately.

It had to be her mother.

“Shit,” Duke hissed. Nobody else could say a word. It wasn’t looking good, and this wasn’t a situation where random vigilantes showing up out of nowhere could actually help. Not this late into the fire. Bruce’s hands curled into fists.

The woman that everyone guessed was Marinette’s mother was suddenly struck by lucidity; she gasped and grabbed at Marinette’s hand without seeming to see who she was even talking to. A single word that none of the Waynes could hear left her throat, and judging by Marinette’s returning panic it hadn’t been good.

She rushed right back into the building, and came back out with the last firefighter who had been searching inside.

Marinette carried a child. She screamed out in panicked French;

“She’s not breathing! I need first aid now!”

That was their cue. The firefighters started their hoses, focusing on getting rid of the flames now that nobody was left inside the building. Bruce and Damian got to Marinette first, and this time she listened as they instructed her to set the child down. Damian, being smaller and having more hands-on medical knowledge, took charge of the resuscitation. Marinette sat there silently, eyes riveted to the small child— a girl.

But Marinette wasn’t reacting like a normal civilian to tragedy. She was eerily calm, eyes focused and barely concealing a terrible rage. She took over chest compressions when Damian started to lose momentum, not giving up.

But then the EMTs arrived, and it was only five minutes with the child hooked onto oxygen that the news arrived—

Marinette heard the monitors on the ambulance flatline before she even registered what people were trying to tell her. Manon. Manon was—

Marinette didn’t register Nadya Chammack at first. She was just another body in the quickly growing sea of them. That is, until she heard Nadya’s pained shriek. A mother who had just lost her baby girl.

“Perhaps we should head back,” Bruce offered softly, giving Marinette space but keeping a keen eye on her. He saw her begin to tremble, then shake. He was pretty sure he could hear the grinding of her teeth for a second before she went still. Just… all movement stopped, the tears that had been building just falling silently for a second before they ended.

And he recognized that carefully practiced emptiness in her bluebell eyes. The same emptiness he had seen in Damian’s eyes when he had first arrived at the Manor. The same emptiness he saw in Dick’s eyes in the days following his parent’s deaths.

The same emptiness he saw in the mirror, every time he had another nightmare about the day Jason had been taken from him, years ago.

Suddenly he could imagine all too well exactly what kind of strength she had to have, to avoid her negative emotions ever being used against her during Hawkmoth’s reign. Especially if she had constantly been dealing with her friends and family being Akumatized and/or dying on multiple occasions.

She didn’t even seem to have heard him. Bruce sighed.

“I called Chloe,” Barbara informed everyone solemnly, holding up her phone for emphasis. “She’ll be here in five.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Chloe hadn’t come alone. With her had been Adrien Agreste, former model when his father hadn’t been… well, in prison. Nowadays he was just a normal student who occasionally gave lectures on neglect and child abuse, and how to help children in those situations.

And, apparently, he was also Marinette’s closest friend. Even more so than Chloe. As soon as they arrived back at the Grand Paris, Chloe herded everyone up into her suite and she and Adrien surrounded Marinette with pillows and blankets. Adrien curled around Marinette like an affectionate cat, and Damien even swore he heard the guy purr at some point

“We should probably leave,” Bruce whispered to their hostess, who looked inbetween him and her friends for a moment before jerking her head towards the door.

“I wanna talk to you first,” Chloe whispered back. Once they all filed out into the hallway and the door was safely closed, Chloe took a breath. “First, I want to tell you that I got a call from the hospital. Marinette’s father is stable, but in a coma right now.”

“Is that the man who looked like he could bench press a car for fun?” Dick asked, earning a weak grin from the Bourgeois heiress.

“Yeah, that’s him. But…” Chloe’s face fell, and she looked around as if to double check nobody was eavesdropping. She still lowered her voice anyway. “Her mother, Sabine. She…” Chloe swallowed a lump in her throat, images of the extremely kind Chinese woman flashing through her mind without permission. “She didn’t make it.”

Several people took a sharp breath, acknowledging everything that had gone so wrong for Marinette on a day that had started so perfectly.

“The smoke?” Cass asked gently, but Chloe winced and shifted on her feet.

“No. They… there were rope marks on Sabine’s neck,” Chloe clenched her eyes shut at the admission. “Marinette’s dad might be big, but he’s not a fighter. Sabine, though… Sabine was. She was raised in a martial arts family back in China. I’ve seen Sabine take down five men at once, all twice her size,” Chloe kicked her lips, shaking her head in disbelief. “Somebody knew… somebody knew that the little Chinese woman was a threat but the big baker with tons of muscle was harmless.”

Nobody took that well. Not only had Marinette just lost her home and half of her family, but her father was in a coma and it had all been foul play.

“Okay,” Bruce nodded once the news had time to sink in. They could help with this; this was their specialty. They might have only known Marinette for six hours, but she had made a big impression. It wasn’t just anybody that could mesh with his family so seamlessly in that short span of time. “Is there anything else?”

“I want you to get temporary custody of her,” Chloe said it the way only Chloe Bourgeois could. With her back straight, chin high, and the tone of a woman who expected to be listened to or else she’d make life Hell for the person that didn’t take her seriously. Bruce could only blink.

“Can I ask for your reasoning?”

“Marinette has been closing herself off more and more over the years,” Chloe admitted. “Hawkmoth’s reign was hard on her. Only Adrien really knows everything she went through during those years. But even after the disbanding of the team, she hasn’t… she hasn’t allowed herself to get close to anybody new. That’s why I tricked her into doing your tour. She needed to socialize with new people, and if she wouldn’t do it herself then I had to pull some strings.”

A few eyebrows raised at the admission that Chloe had fully planned for Marinette to be their tour guide the whole time. It honestly seemed like the kind of well meaning manipulation that one of them would try to pull off.

“She likes you,” Chloe’s voice went soft again, showing how uncharacteristically serious she was about that fact. “She was comfortable enough to let you guys carry her back here. To let you try to help Manon. That might not seem like a big deal to you, but it says a lot to me and Adrien. And… getting her away from Paris for a while is probably a good idea. She was planning to go to Gotham for university anyway.”

The Waynes traded glances before Bruce crosses his arms and asked some more questions first. Doesn’t Marinette have other family? Answer; only her grandmother, who travels all the time and nobody ever knows where she is until she shows up. Bruce agreed that Gina Dupain didn’t exactly seem like a good candidate for Marinette’s new guardian with that description. But finally, to none of his children's surprise, he did end up agreeing.

“But,” he held up a single finger. “We’ll Wait here in Paris for a week, so that she can try to salvage everything she can from her house and so we can get an idea on how her father is doing. There’s still a chance he’ll come out of his coma fairly quickly. And of course, we will only go through with this if Marinette agrees when we ask her tomorrow.”

Chloe agreed to those terms, looking like a weight had been lifted off of her.

Chloe never cut corners when taking care of her hive. And if that meant making sure that her brave soldier bee could move on to start a new hive, one that was better equipped to take care of her, then Chloe would do everything she could to help that move. And really; Chloe was far more resourceful and observant than people gave her credit for. The butts definitely matched, and Bruce Wayne was her last hope to get Marinette the support she needed. Outside of Adrien, anyway.

Chloe took a breath, watching the Waynes trickle off into their own rooms. Marinette was like the little sister she never wanted, but grew to love more than anything. Though, Chloe knew she really chose Marinette as her sister the same way they both chose Adrien as their brother. She just didn’t want to admit she was sentimental like that. But Chloe knew that someone like Marinette needed a bigger family. More support.

She could only hope that Marinette and the Waynes grew to become family for her like she and Adrien had. Kwami knew that Marinette needed all the help she could get for the foreseeable future.

“You did good, my Queen.”

“I know, Pollen. Now we just have to find out who dared hurt my hive.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Dude this took so long to write, but I’m actually really proud of it. Probably gonna take this Maribat March a little differently than last year, and make a few longer stories by connecting some of the prompts together. Maybe each week will be a full story? Idk I’ll figure it out. I know I’m behind but I’m working on it.

I tried to keep the angst out, but it found it’s way in here anyway. Oh well!

#mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat #maribat march 2021 #Maribat March 2k21 #platonic brucinette #found family #day 1 #Maribat March #day 1 found family #I was a little late but oh well

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years ago

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Kisses Like Wine

The Thief x Reader

Warnings: None

Reader is blank canvass female. Age gap, maybe ten years?

Inspired by the new wine commercial, of course. I am not sure if the next installment will be during the next teaser or what.

Do you like legends? Well. Here is one for you.

Imagine a maid, seduced by a powerful man. Imagine a stormy night…yes, a dark and stormy night, I know, I know. But it was. Imagine a frightened, naive young woman pushing a baby out into the world, laying on the paving of the wine cellar because that as the only place they could think to hide her. Several glorious and expensive floors above, another woman is laboring, drawing her last breath. My father, my brother, my sister all sitting in a half circle as the power flickers out, as the staff hasten to light candles.

The maid, my mother, takes money, some silver, and leaves me.

I wonder what was going through my father’s mind, as he looked at me that first time. I wonder if his wife hadn’t just died he would have kept me at all.

But he did. And that, I thought, would be as interesting as things got.

I was wrong. Of course. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be a story worth telling.

Once a year, the family gathers into the vault. My siblings enjoy it, after all, this is their once a year visit of the treasures they will inherit.

Now, you will think, that my siblings hate me. They don’t. They are mostly indifferent, modeling after my father, warming up when he’s not around, or when they need me. So their going over the wealth I will never touch in my presence does not smack of cruelty, just carelessness.

As long as I behave myself, I will always have a roof. Always be fed. Have a stipend. My education was paid for, I have a nice, plain little car I picked for myself. So, I ignore a lot of things. I live in a castle, after all. Really, what more could I want? I remind myself of these things more and more often, recently.

My interest picks up when he gets to the jewel cask. A crown said to be worn by King Alfred the Great sits over it, and he moved it aside reverently to open a plain, silver oval of a box.

“And here it is,” he croons. “The Star of the North.” It is beautiful. Even in the florescent light of the vault, the pale blue sapphire, large as a hen’s egg, sparkles with a galaxy of stars. It is the only piece that moves me. I could stare at it forever, lost in the depths. Looking at the stars.

If you were to ask me, later, why I risked my life to go after it, I don’t know what I’d tell you. Was it for the jewel? Was it to impress my family and maybe have my father actually look at me?

Or was it because of him?

The night that changed my life, I was standing in the corner of the third floor ballroom, humming “Masquerade” under my breath. It was an accurate song – A masked ball, people wearing dazzling costumes. I was dressed in a costume I’d seen once on the cover of a book – fake iridescent black swan feathers showed tones of blue and purple. I didn’t want to fool with actual wings, so I had hennaed butterfly wings, jeweled and sparkling, across my bare back. I thought I looked nifty, but it was not the warmest costume choice. “You can fool any friend who ever knew you…” I whispered under my breath.

A flash of bottle green attracted my eye despite my best attempts. I was drawn to a man in a satin green jacket. His mask was a fox’s face made out of green leaves. His eyes were dark, his hair dark, as well, with a slight curl. Our eyes would meet, over glasses, over shoulders, and I kept moving away from him, away from the danger he represented.

Away from the wanting that was curling, slowly, softly inside. Want stirred by the way he held the delicate crystal stem of a wine glass. By the way his eyes traveled over my figure. The knowing smirk, as if he was a mind reader. I went and got a drink of my own, determined to not look at him again, and as if hearing my wishes, he disappeared.

I pretended not to look for him as I eventually settled in another corner. A hand, large, graceful despite that, holding a bunch of fanned playing cards appeared before my face. I barely kept from shrieking. “Pick a card,” a voice purred in my ear.

I didn’t want to admit he startled me, though it had probably been obvious. I turned enough to see it was him, the green fox mask. “You’ll see what I pick.”

He laughed. “Just choose with your eyes, keep it in your head.”

I looked at his hand. The ace of spades. Queen of Hearts. A mix of number cards. I picked the Jack of Clubs.

“Done.” I said, turning to look up into his eyes.

The alarms started ringing. “Forgive me,” he said, “That’s my cue.” He pulled me to him, and spun me onto the dance floor, among confused and worried guests. I felt the strength of him, as he moved, the assuredness, the grace, He turned me and gently pushed me into the arms of a man standing on the side of the dance floor, and in the chaos I lost track of him.

I recovered and ran towards the vault.

“It’s locked. The security are inside…” I heard my brother say. I backtracked, and ran down another hall, trying to think.

If the guards were inside, he could just waltz out the front door. So going up would be stupid.

But the lower floor was on lock down. Probably. I didn’t really know what the thief had managed to accomplish.

A breeze across my back. The tower room behind me – the door was partly open. I ran through it without thinking.

And there he was. The mask and jacket were gone. He had a pack on his back and he was lowering a rope out the arched window of the tower.

“Whatever it was you took, give it back.” I told him. “Give it back and I won’t tell them where you went, or what you look like.”

He was on me in a second, arm wrapped around me, my body pressed against the stone. His free hand was around my throat, pressing gently. “Why should I?”

I am ashamed to admit, I was very aware of his body pressed hard against mine. That strength. He could hurt me, but I was not afraid. Not of him. His hand on my throat was more of a lover’s touch than a threat, and I could see his eyes in the light from the hall. He was not angry. He was…pleased.

“I know who you are,” I whisper. “And you never kill.”

He shrugs awkwardly. “I only took a few trinkets. Your family has so much left, but it seems to me their greatest treasure they ignore completely.” He brushes his lower lip against mine, and I shiver. I can feel a slight smile before he claims my lips.

“Come find me yourself,” he whispers in my ear, and he is gone, out the window.

I slide down the wall and stare out the window, wondering at myself. At the urge to follow him down, though he takes the rope with him, leaving only a metal spike with a loop in the wall.

Later, we find that he managed to trick the security guards into going into the vault, then, while they were in there, triggered the alarm.

We don’t know when he stole the crown or the Star of the North. We just knew they were gone. His plan was neat, meticulous, and hard to figure out.

When I undressed that night, I found a card in the corsetry of my bodice. The Jack of Clubs. The back? The face of the devil. My guess had been right – I knew who visited us that night. One of the greatest thieves of all time. No name. Some called him The Thief, some called him the devil.

I pressed the card to my lips. Come find me.

Alright.

I will.

#pedro pascal #The Wine Commercial of Awesome #The Theif

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allwaswell16 · 3 years ago

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This is a fic rec of One Direction fic writers who both appreciate positive, long comments and enjoy replying back to these comments! This was made in honor of an enthusiastic friend who had a few bad experiences commenting in our fandom and receiving less than kind replies. Instead of just fuming about it, I decided to do something about it. I knew that most writers would absolutely love to receive comments like the ones she leaves, so I made a post asking for writers who fit this to recommend their fics to us. And wow did you all come through for us!

Below the cut are 54 writers, each with one of their fics to recommend to us! But please be sure to check out all their other fics as well! I’ll put the fics in order of wordcount and I’ll list pairing, rating, and wordcount along with the summaries.

(Please note that there are really lovely writers out there who also very much appreciate each and every one of their comments, but are too overwhelmed or anxious to reply. I am not at all saying that writers who don’t reply are unappreciative!)

Love After the End of the World by @mercurial-madhouse / writing_practice [Louis/Harry, E, 162k]

“Wait. Just so I’m clear in me fucking noggin,” Niall says. “An international worldwide takeover is well under way and the only thing standing between having hot showers and a second end of the world is us five fuckers?”

-----

Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda.

When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

Hold You Now by @solvetheminourdreams [Louis/Harry, M, 131k]

The string within Harry's own sweatpants is now dangling outside of his pocket, stretched so far out that the seams of his pants have tightened. His eyes remain hyper focused on Louis, how oblivious he is—scrolling through his phone without a care in the world, while Harry feels his tilt on its axis.

Three years ago, Harry Styles said goodbye to communications consultancy firm McQuiston Worldwide, leaving a life of travel and agency PR behind. When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

forever is in your eyes by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same [Louis/Harry, M, 125k]

Harry looks fragile in the moonlight, and Louis stands there, pondering, not even sure what it is that he’s thinking of. It’s all just noise in his head, a mix of melancholy and desire, of longing for something that he doesn’t even have a name for.

He wants-

He wants love. He wants to be held and cherished and have a home. Not just a place to lay his head down at night. He wants to be loved the way that Louis had loved creating Harry. He wants his perfect man, but he wants him to be real. He wants Harry to be real-

His lips press against marble, against something cold and unforgiving, and it’s not until his hand comes up to rest against a sculpted neck that his eyes fly open and he stumbles backwards, nearly falling off the stepladder that he’d stood on.

“Jesus Christ.” He whispers, shaking his head and resisting the urge to brush the back of his hand against his lips, erase evidence that isn’t even visible to the naked eye. Harry stands there, as though nothing’s changed, and of course he does, because he’s a statue.

A statue that Louis has just kissed.

don’t want to fight you by @lt2soon / starryharry [Louis/Harry, M, 124k]

Louis hates that it’s familiar. He hates that sparring Harry is familiar because they train together. He hates that he even has to spar Harry at all, because Harry is good.

Louis wonders what his life would be like if him and Harry didn’t hate each other. He can’t picture it, really. The incessant bickering that often turns into real arguing, the nasty looks, the eye rolls, the middle fingers. It all feels very necessary at this point.

Or, the one where two fighters can also be lovers because routines are never permanent.

Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo [Louis/Harry, E, 114k]

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

promise your whispers are mine by @lightwoodsmagic / lightswoodmagic [Louis/Harry, E, 94k]

"Where did I say it’s been easy for you, or,” he paused, staring at Harry’s lowered head and willing him to look up, “where have you ever gotten the idea that it’s been easy for me either?” When a few beats had passed and Louis was sure the conversation was done, Harry looked up, straight into Louis’ eyes like he was trying to physically pin him in place. “Our situations are completely different and you know it, please stop trying to - .” “Then let me help you fix it, Harry,” Louis interrupted, desperate to reach out and cover his hand with one of his own. “Let me help, please.”

Harry’s the head chef at Azoff’s Catering, and he loves his job; the opportunity has always been more than he could dream of and he’s proud of the food he creates. Until he meets Louis, an event coordinator rising through the ranks with his own company, and who reminds him of the dreams he once had for his own career. While their easy friendship initially thrives in an industry known for chaos and betrayal, they soon discover they both have their secrets, and maybe it’s too late for either of them to try to find happiness outside of their work. Especially when they realise that their happiness might rely on each other.

Playin’ It Safe and Breakin’ The Rules by @local-troubled-writer / local_troubled _writer [Louis/Harry, M, 90k]

In his life, Louis Tomlinson set out to do three things: find a way to make art that he loves, make his mum proud, and have as much fun as he could reasonably fit into one lifetime.

“Hello?” Harry’s deep voice calls.

“Hi,” Louis pops his head out of his doorway, motioning Harry back. “Louis,” he holds his hand out for Harry to shake and a small grin takes over the popstar’s face. He’s taller than he seems in photographs, but his smile is just the same as the ones that used to wallpaper his sisters’ walls.

“Harry.” He seems to have just gotten off stage, still sweating in a pair of skin-tight black jeans but a soft-looking blue vest. A beige headscarf holds his long curls off his face and he has all the easy confidence of a world-famous pop sensation, but still slouches in a way that isn't unfamiliar to Louis’ own posture.

“Yeah, I know who you are, popstar.” Louis teases, pulling his hand away and jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “Shall we?”

or the One Where Maybe this Fake Relationship Gets a Little Too Real.

Consequences by @allwaswell16 [Louis/Harry, E, 78k]

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

An amnesia au

The Sound The Leaves Make In The Heat Of The August Sun by @sleepwalk-living / anderscones [Louis/Harry, T, 76k]

Louis is an elf who lives in the Kingdom’s forest, as far away from the pompous Castle Court as he can get while staying within city limits. He’s a thief out of necessity and is happy enough to steal from the rich when they’re not looking. He notices something mysteriously dangerous happening in his forest one morning and begs for an investigation from the Court, who of course tells him he’s seeing things.

Intro a shamed knight, a runaway prince, a blacksmith, and a mage with fae blood who figure something is better than nothing. The King is all too happy to make criminals out of them and run them thinner than they already are just to prove a point to his son. With the combined powers of Captain Pla- One Direction, they figure it out.

adjudication by @bottomlinsons [Louis/Harry, T, 75k]

Harry's been engaged to Princess Charlotte of Ryde for as long as he can remember. He's come to know her, to love her, through the letters she's sent him over the past three years.

But when the wedding finally arrives, Harry quickly learns that nothing is as it seems. With his crown and country at stake, Harry must decide who to trust in this strange new land. And the sly Crown Prince of Ryde doesn't seem inclined to make things easy.

The Ground Below is Above My Feet by @zanniscaramouche / zanni_scaramouche [Louis/Harry, E, 63k]

“-ouis, are you awake?”

“M’ff,” Louis manages. Slowly he remembers where he is. Who he is. His nerve endings take stock of his body, the soft sheets twisted around his legs and the warm rush of breath on his face. Harry.

“You were sleeping like the dead,” Harry muses, calloused fingers delicately brushing through Louis’ fringe. “Could barely tell if you were breathing.”

Louis' heart stutters, his throat working hard to swallow the lump of ugly truth. Blinks until Harry’s bright eyes come into focus across the pillow.

He holds back the obvious joke.

Plant New Seeds in the Melody by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers [Harry/Louis, E, 58k]

After losing his husband in a tragic car accident, the last thing Louis needs is to keep running into popstar Harry Styles, who David was quite fond of.

Obviously, that’s exactly what keeps happening.

But as their unlikely friendship blossoms, Louis realizes that, maybe, having Harry in his life was the only good thing that came out of his adverse circumstances. Harry could be just the right person to help Louis find trust and intimacy in someone new.

Live a Thousand Lifetimes by @laynefaire / Layne Faire [Zayn/Liam, E, 57k]

It’s 2025.

After secretly writing and producing their first album in ten years, One Direction is weeks away from releasing their first new single and announcing a world tour.

With the whirlwind about to begin again, Liam re-evaluates the last ten years - the fame, the money, the people who changed his life forever - and the person who walked away.

just a flicker in the dark by @falsegoodnight [Harry/Louis, E, 57k]

Harry Styles is his case partner. High and mighty, annoyingly smug Harry Styles who’s known him for years and has fucking seen him naked for fuck’s sake.

He glances at Venus who’s blinking up at him with curious eyes, no doubt sensing the agitation sparking in his magic.

“This is not happening,” Louis says loudly. “This is not fucking happening. I am going to kill Liam, oh my god.” He doesn’t even know if Liam is responsible for this but it feels like something he’d do to drive Louis absolutely insane - exes don’t just show up to your assigned haunted house out of nowhere. “Fucking fuck!”

He nearly jumps when Harry knocks again, his muffled voice carrying through the wood. “I can hear you, you know,” he drawls, sounding frustratingly amused.

Louis exhales, resisting the urge to scream.

Or, Louis is a struggling witch desperate to prove himself after yet another magic disaster and finds a calling in the haunted house of client Niall Horan. Things get more complicated when he’s assigned a case partner: acclaimed medium and ex-boyfriend, Harry Styles.

I'm On the Hunt Now (I'm After You) by @afangirlfantasy [Louis/Harry, M, 56k]

Omegas haven’t been able to shift into their wolves for two hundred years. That is, until Louis Tomlinson changes everything.

Or...an AU where Alpha Harry and Omega Louis have a lot more than falling in love to deal with after The Mating Ceremony.

That Smile and That Midnight Laugh by @uhoh-but-yeah-alright / yeah_alright [Louis/Harry, T, 50k]

Harry’s never noticed how lovely Louis really is. Maybe it’s just that she’s usually so guarded – a little tense, a little irritated, a little put out. At least when she’s at school, and also usually when she’s around Nick, which are the only times Harry has really seen her. Until tonight. Tonight Harry’s seen her with her guard completely down. Too busy laughing and enjoying herself to remember to be prickly, maybe. She seems different.

It feels different.

A Ferris Bueller's Day Off AU that picks up right where the movie leaves off, and imagines what might happen if Ferris' girlfriend and sister become friends. And maybe something more, too.

Baby, Won’t You Look My Way? by @peachbootylouis / PeachBootyLou [Louis/Harry, E, 50k]

Louis tiptoed to the door and opened it, looking over his shoulder for a moment. Harry looked absolutely gorgeous, almost enough to make him strip back down and give it another go. But that wasn’t who Louis was. So he sighed and stepped outside, leaving back to his flat. And for the first time in years, he felt alive.

Or the where Louis’ routine centered life runs like clockwork until a chance hook up throws a wrench named Harry into it all. But as it may turn out a change in plans could be what Louis has needed all along.

dirty laundry looks good on you by @tomlinvelvetfics / tomlinvelvet [Louis/Harry, E, 50k]

When Louis Tomlinson finds his clothes lying in a sad soapy mess on top of the washing machine in which they are supposed to be, he acts upon his anger and retaliates. What he doesn’t expect is having to deal with a six-feet tall, curly-haired and dimpled man in return, who seems to arouse confusing feelings within him and to make his life take an unexpected turn for the better (or worse?).

OR; the utility room is a great place to fall in love.

Passing By by @larryyouknow / Larry_you_know [Louis/Harry, E, 48k]

Sometimes, people are in each other's lives just for the briefest of moments. They meet and then go their separate ways because being vulnerable is scary and it might be easier to not let anybody else in. But some people aren’t meant to be just passing by. Maybe when they open their eyes, they can learn things about themselves they haven’t known before. If they let their hearts speak they will find a way to be together.

Or the one where Harry doesn't even know he's into guys until he meets Louis on a boat trip. There's something more to their friendship but it ain't gonna be smooth sailing.

i kiss you (across hundreds of separating years) by @milkcurls / loveroflou [Louis/Harry, M, 44k]

He reminds Louis of the day he met him, the first day of Harry’s first year and Louis’ second, when he stood on wobbly legs beside Zayn, his cheeks flushed and hair parted to the side and tucked neatly behind his ear. He’s all dainty and soft – he’s pretty, Louis can admit that.

He’s also a rich frat boy who fucks every omega that will throw themselves at him – and they all do – so instead of pretending to be a precious little doll Louis thinks he should spend more time learning how to be a decent human being.

or, the stars and two amused boys are playing cupid, and there are one too many coded love letters and a duck plushie that smells like home

don’t want no other shade of blue by @louisisworthit / padfootyoudog [Louis/Harry, E, 43k]

“I know you’re putting on an act,” says Harry after a moment, and Louis scowls when he realises the prince is actually amused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Louis.

“All I’ve heard over the past couple of years are rumours of Prince Louis’ kindness, and generosity, and oh, he’s so handsome I can barely pour his tea without shaking!” says Harry, putting on a silly, high-pitched voice for the last bit. Louis’ scowl deepens. “I would already know if you were just another selfish, bratty omega prince. You can’t fool me, darling, but I admire your efforts.”

“As you said,” Louis grits out, “those are only rumours. I assure you, I’m a terrible person.”

prompt 339: it was foretold that Alpha Prince Harry would be mated to a beautiful male omega with eyes that could rival the stone amethyst, but Omega Prince Louis refuses to believe it.

A Thousand More by @travelingwinchester / Ot5aresoulmates [Louis/Harry, NR, 42k]

Harry wakes up one morning during the separation of April 2015 missing Louis fiercely. He wonders if they had never been on the X-Factor would they have met. Cue the weirdest "dream" he's ever had in which lessons about the course of true love are learned.

fondre ton absence by @scrunchyharry [Louis/Harry, T, 41k]

Harry had never really given much thought to the future. He preferred to let life steer him forward and to follow in the footsteps of Louis, his best friend from as far as his memory went, his lover, his everything. Louis knew better than he did what was good for him.

It changed drastically when Louis was ripped away from him, drafted and sent to the front to fight in a war that Harry had always been sure would never reach him. Too young and too sickly to follow, Harry was left on his own for the first time in his life.

When he thought things could not possibly get worse, Louis went missing at the Somme and was declared dead. While everyone buried and mourned him, Harry never moved on. If Louis were dead, he was sure that he would know it. Their lives were too entwined, he would know if half of his heart had died.

Determined to find Louis, Harry did everything he could in his quest to be reunited with him, except prepare for the state Louis might be in.

He did not prepare for the harsh truth he would have to face: was love possible without memories?

I’ve Been Hoping You’d Be Somewhere Better Than This by @runaway-train-works / runaway _train [Harry/Louis, E, 40k]

“Does she know who it is then, from the New York office?” Louis enquires.

“Yeah, some guy Henry? Henry Styles I think she said?"

“Harry.”

“What?"

“Harry. His name is Harry Styles.” His heart sank. Louis hadn’t met him, they had only shared a couple of emails back and forth, but he knew exactly who he was. And Harry hadn’t just been killing it in the Big Apple, he’s been ripping the place to absolute shreds, nailing some of the most lucrative accounts in the business.

Louis is so fucked.

The one where Louis is up for a promotion, he just has one tiny, little problem standing in his way.

Without you it’s a season I ain’t needing by @whatevertearsyou / perfectdagger [Louis/Harry, M, 38k]

Spring was everything in '17, now I'm just cold Summer fell to fall after all November froze Without you it's a season I ain't needing, I want to go come back home The reds and all the greens don't mean a thing when you're gone Winter means nothing to me now without you.

A long distance relationship au in which Harry is away for a year and Louis is left to pick up the pieces.

take my hand, wreck my plans by @daggerandrose / amomentoflove [Harry/Louis, T, 38k,]

Louis meets the man in the center of the room, feeling every eye on him.

“Mr. H,” he whispers.

The man smiles brightly and laughs as if he can’t believe his eyes. “It’s you,” he says breathlessly. “I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Nor I you, especially under these circumstances.”

“Even so,” Mr H says, his eyes bouncing from Louis’ eyes to his lips. “Will you do me a great honor and join me in leading the first … um…”

“Dance?”

Mr. H laughs and nods. “Yes, that’s the one.”

Louis bites his lips and doesn’t hesitate before whispering, “Yes.”

Mr. H beams and reaches for Louis’ hand. Sparks fly at the touch and a zing of excitement shoots through Louis’ body. His face heats up as he’s afraid his scent would give away his feelings towards the other man.

I Wish, I Found Love by @slytherinzouis / friendofhayley [Louis/Harry, E, 37k]

A fandom retelling of the Maiden Without Hands.

Solace is a land of religious hypocrisy, demons, and two ostracized families. When prophets from every denomination foretell a boy of unknown origin who might change the tide of the magical world, is any place safe for him?

Harry and Louis grew up together, two pariahs among their peers. Will their love be able to overcome distance, prophecies, and the trials of finding out who you truly become under pressure?

You Try To Be Everything (I Need) by @lululawrence [Harry/Louis, NR, 36k]

Wars, and rumours of wars, were nothing new for the world in the twenty-fourth century. The fighting had evolved over the years, and rarely did it involve traditional weapons. A group most widely known as the Southern Powers gained strength amongst portions of the western European continent and spread quickly.

There was a fight the Southern Powers didn’t expect coming from the north of England, though. Resistance came in the form of an organised underground; a group comprised of people with the Touch that did the best they could to enforce a line that would not be crossed. Slowly, that line was moved from the Channel to boundaries further and further north. It seemed only a matter of time before the Southern Powers took over everywhere.

Until that time, people did the best they could to live their lives in some semblance of normality. For Louis Tomlinson, that sense of normality was about to change when his best friend, Harry Styles, goes missing.

Louis embarks on the journey of a lifetime where he uses his newly developed abilities to search for his friend, even when it takes him to places he never thought he would see while surmounting trials he never could have imagined.

Your Wonder Under Summer Skies by @emilee1421 / Emilee_1421 [Louis/Harry, NR, 34+, wip]

Needing an escape after a particularly hectic year, Louis decides to join Harry in Italy where Harry is working on his next Gucci campaign. While in Italy the two decide to join an old friend at her county home to enjoy a much deserved break from their usually busy lives. Louis and Harry begin to see their friend in a different light and all three are forced to confront the possibility that their friendship may actually be something much deeper.

Work of Magic by @justalarryblog / Bekita [Louis/Harry, NR, 34k]

"C’mon Liam, are you really going to use this against me now? You know the kind of humans his kind is! You know very well why we hunt them!" Louis said, done with the conversation and walking down the hall.

"No! We hunt people who don’t care about others, and neither Harry nor anyone in his family is like that!” Liam exasperated, following behind. “Louis, it's been two weeks, don’t you wanna know how Harry is? Has this hatred taken over so fast?" Liam inquired, knowing the hit a nerve.

"You know what, Liam? I'm not going to have this conversation with you." Louis said decisively, turning his back to his friend ready to go to his class.

But life is never fair, is it? When he turned around he was face to face with Harry in the middle of the hallway. The two stared at each other. Do I hate him? Louis wondered as he watched Harry's eyes fill with tears and seem to be begging for something. He preferred to ignore the pang in his chest and the urge to comfort the boy in front of him. He lowered his head and continued on his way.

Or the one that Louis is a WitchHunter and Harry is a Witch and they keep it as a secret, but they fall in love.

Swear I’ve Known You Since Forever by @louinlavender / abaddxns [Louis/Harry, T, 33k]

Harry then pats around his trouser pockets only to remember that Gemma has his phone in her bag so he can’t even call her, and he’s far too intimidated to ask a stranger if he can borrow theirs. She has his wallet, too, so all he has on his person are the stick of gum in his back pocket and his muddy wellies and a too-long scarf he’s ready to ball up and throw the ground, because he’s only sixteen and he’s just a shopboy in a bakery and he’s about to cry twenty minutes into his first music festival that he had to beg to attend, all because he lost his big sister and her uni friends, who didn’t even want him to come in the first place, and—

“Oi, y’alright, mate?” a bright voice asks, just as his eyes start to water.

Or: Harry attends his first music festival and promptly gets lost. Little does he know that the first friendly face he encounters is bound to change his life forever.

Part one of three of 'And The Sun Came Out'—a series detailing the growth of Harry and Louis' relationship through the years after meeting at Leeds Fest as teenagers.

i’m gonna keep this love, if you let me by @tomlinbuns / pixies [Louis/Harry, E, 26k]

Louis makes Harry pretend to be his boyfriend one night out. The rest is history.

Dear Diary (series) by @alwayslarry-vol28 / kikiberosski16 [Louis/Harry, E, 20k]

Life in quarantine is hard, especially if you're an arrogant son of a bitch and your husband is a stubborn little shit. Harry and Louis argue a lot, so much it affects their daily routines. Harry tries to write his feelings down in a diary, but will this cause more trouble for the couple?

The Golden Prince by @behappyhl [Harry/Louis, E, 19k]

When He arrives in London, he’s speechless.

It’s so different from his little hometown, he can’t help the feeling that it is an unknown planet. Everything is bigger; The streets, the buildings, the stores. The people are always running somewhere, always in a hurry. Harry instantly feels out of place.

Or, Harry lives a perfectly normal life until he gets a life changing job opportunity.

The Boy with the Tin Chest and a Glass Heart by @louloubabys1992 / louloubaby92 [Louis/Harry, M, 17k]

Alpha Harry Styles, world-renowned author of fairy-tales, is being persuaded by the Beta, Liam Payne to hire a new illustrator. Since Harry’s own illustrations are too graphic for what is supposed to be children’s stories, Liam feels the need is dire. Omega Louis does not agree with Liam since he believes that Harry’s stories are fine just the way they are. Of course this has nothing to do with Louis being totally biased or totally head over heels for Harry. It certainly has nothing to do with being jealous of the mysterious omega illustrator Liam has in mind to team Harry up with. Seriously, it has nothing to do with that at all. Nothing, absolutely nothing, zilch, nada. Yeah...

Sweet Heart by @bluecolouredlou [Niall/Louis, G, 16k]

Designing clothes, not falling in love.

That was what Niall had in mind when he first met up with Louis. He couldn't be falling in love with the other omega. Not while work as one of the few omegas at the company was getting more stressful. Not when he was supposed to find an alpha and settle down.

just one look (and i fell so hard) by @disgruntledkittenface [Harry/Louis, M, 15k]

Louis takes a small step back, breaking the moment first. “Well, I should–”

“Do you want to come up?”

The words are out of Harry’s mouth before he’d even planned them, and he bites his lip.

“Oh, thank god,” Louis laughs, stepping back into Harry’s space. “I wasn’t, um…”

“Wasn’t ready to let go of you yet,” Harry finishes quietly, glancing up at Louis.

“Yeah,” Louis nods, reaching up and twirling one of Harry’s curls in his fingers. “Yeah, exactly.”

Harry has wanted to go to the Shubert Theatre ever since he moved to New York and lucked into a rent-controlled apartment just outside of the Theatre District. When he finally gets his chance, he hopes the night can meet his sky-high expectations. But the last thing he could have expected was the man seated next to him.

wasting my time when it was always you by @hometothecanyonmoon / sunflower_lwt [Harry/Louis, T, 15k+, wip]

A "Married To The Maverick Millionaire" AU. Louis is the captain of Manchester United, Harry's the heir of the richest charity organization in the country as well as his best friend and they have to fake being married to save both of them from impending doom.

Sounds like love to me by @neondiamond [Louis/Harry, G, 14k]

“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?”

Louis watches as Harry’s face falls with the realization that this is one of those things he won’t be able to experience. For a second, Louis considers saying no, to show Harry they’re truly on the same boat through all of this. But he nods in the end, reaching over for Harry’s hand as the doctor flips a switch. Noise fills the room then, and it takes a few seconds for the sound to become clear enough for Louis to make out the baby’s fast heartbeat.

“It’s really fast,” he voices his thoughts out loud as he uses his thumb to tap against the back of Harry’s hand, replicating the rapid rhythm of the baby’s heartbeat. It takes the younger man a little while to figure out what Louis’ doing, but a huge grin breaks out on his face as soon as he does.

“Is that them?” He signs with the other hand, his own eyes starting to tear up when Louis nods.

OR: Harry is deaf, Louis is pregnant. They figure it out.

The Prince and the Youtuber by @haztobegood [Louis/Harry, E, 12k]

The Annual Rosendal Spring Gala hosted by the Royal Family is the most prestigious fundraiser in the country. When a problem with the honorary foundation arises, Crown Prince Louis Tomlinson must pick a new worthy foundation on short notice. He discovers the perfect replacement in an unlikely place, while watching his favorite YouTuber, Harrysparkles.

One Way Road To Something Better by @femstyles [Harry/Louis, T, 12k]

Four years ago when Louis and Harry moved in together, Louis promised Anne that he’d take care of Harry no matter what. But things don’t always go as planned, and sometimes risky choices have to be made.

Inspired by Don't Let It Break Your Heart

stop the world ('cause i wanna get off with you) by @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain [Harry/Louis, E, 12k]

Five times Louis and Harry get walked in on at the worst time, and one time Louis makes sure they don't.

my solitude ain’t the same no more by @dryourtearsaway / louisnights [Harry/Louis, M, 10k]

Louis is a traveling homicide detective who goes to the small town of Holmes Chapel to investigate the murder of a young woman.

somewhere only we know by @quelsentiment / wordsnnotes [Zayn/Louis, T, 9k]

Their eyes meet again, and the man suddenly frowns, asking: “Do we know each other?” Oh. So maybe that’s why Zayn is so intrigued with him. He’s always been pretty bad at remembering people’s faces, but there is some kind of vague familiarity to the man’s appearance. “Might help if you told me your name”, he points out. “Right. Sorry, I’m an idiot”, the man chuckles. “I’m Louis. Louis Tomlinson.” And of course. With this voice, Zayn should have known. He’s actually surprised he didn’t recognize it right away. “Lou”, he says, his own voice caught in his throat. “It’s me, Zayn.” Or: Zayn and Louis grew up together, but haven’t seen each other in over a decade. Now they're both in their twenties and meet again on a flight from LA to London, with ten hours in front of them to catch up, and maybe start something new.

I'm Asking You Please, Don't Talk Dirty to Me by @larry-hiatus / larry_hiatus [Harry/Louis, E, 9k]

Prompt #68: Harry’s best friend Louis is a nice, well-mannered omega, at least when it comes to sex talk. He has always been closed off and quiet... until Harry hears how Louis talks during his heat. Now, it's all Harry can think about before his upcoming rut... (Original prompt wording edited for clarity)

making me sweat by honey_beeing [Harry/Louis, E, 9k]

A not-exactly University AU where Harry and Louis meet at an orgy where the both of them don't intend to have sex at.

Twist the Knife by @snowjosh / jishler [Harry/Louis, E, 6k]

Infuriating, but Louis missed it. Louis missed him. His thighs and his chest and breath and warmth and toothbrush next to Louis’. He missed sex with Harry but he missed his presence more: Louis would settle for watching Harry get himself off if it meant he got to see him; hear the voice that was like a soothing balm over all his wounds.

Two weeks after their breakup, Harry wants his toys back.

the stars are coming home by @harrystinyshorts / lsforever [Harry/Louis, G, 5k]

For years Harry has been waiting for their schedules to click just right. Finding a day where he’ll not only be available but also is the only visitor on the premises has been near impossible.

After three years together and nearly a full year of marriage, Harry has finally been permitted to sit in for one of the team’s practices. They get more than they bargained for.

My True Love Gave to Me by @ponymom-stuff / ponymom [Louis/Harry, NR, 5k]

After puzzling over a Christmas gift for Louis, Harry comes to what he believes is the ultimate gift for his true love.

Fistiana by @louandhazaf / YesIsAWorld [Zayn/Louis, NR, 2k]

They met in the center of the ring and bumped their bare knuckles together.

Strawberries and Cigarettes by @hlhome28 / ThoseFookin_Avacados [Louis/Harry, T, 2k]

strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you

"Need help there, love?" "Oh god, yes-" Harry turned around to look at the source of the voice and his heart dropped to his stomach as they caught each other's eyes.

Or on a very lonely valentines day, Harry's car breaks down in an unknown alleyway, where he bumps into a blue-eyed boy who takes him back seven years ago on the same day.

Safe Like Springtime by @beelou / cherrylarry [Louis/Harry, G, 1k]

On the way out of the park, Gabriel gasps suddenly and points across the grassy area. He starts running.

When Harry catches up to Gabe, - that boy runs fast - he's with a man and his dog and Gabe is petting the dog.

"Gabriel James. You know better than to run off like that! Did you ask to pet the dog?" Harry scolds.

"I'm sorry Uncle Harry. I saw a dog and I just wanted to see the fluffy dog! Look how fluffy!" Gabe exclaims.

Harry rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the dog owner. The very attractive dog owner.

Or, the one where Harry takes his nephew to the park and runs into Louis and his Labradoodle Clifford.

best hangover cure by @loulovehome [Louis/Harry, E, 1k]

"A wank will miraculously cure your hangover, honey."

Stay Till The A.M. by @flexible-racoon / goneforbooks [Harry/Louis, G, 1k]

It's 23rd July and Louis reminisces.

#fic rec #1dsource #tracksintheam #trackinghome #larry fan fic #let me know if any of the links are messed up #i've checked and double checked but who knows when its tumblr lol

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littlemisskookie · 5 years ago

Text

Piss Off Your Parents

Piss Off Your Parents Ship: BadBoy!Jungkook | RichGirl!Reader Description: Roommates!AU | BadBoy!AU | FakeDating!AU | In an effort to piss off your parents you move in with their worst nightmare- a boy with tattoos, a rock band, and an irresistible charm. Warnings: Dom!JK, Daddy Kink, D/S Themes, Spanking, Pussy Spanking, Intercourse, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Creampie, Fingering, Oral, Multiple Orgasms, Squirting, Size Kink, Hair Pulling, Praise Kink, Lots of Pet Names, Angst, Fluff, Drug Use (it’s just weed) Word Count: 16,411 A/N: Based on the song 18 by Anarbor! This ends my hiatus! I’ve been writing this for literal months so I hope you guys like it. Happy Early 3rd Year Anniversary!

"Oh, you must visit us in Morocco! We got a summer home there not too long ago, and it's absolutely divine!"

"You don't say? We were thinking about visiting there! It was between there and Budapest."

"I went to Budapest not too long ago, actually. Remember when I was telling you about Belgium?"

"Belgium? I remember Prague..."

"Oh yes! Prague, that's it. Well, it was the trip after-"

You rolled your eyes, internally groaning as you listened to your mother speak with the Senator's wife. You hated going to these. The senator loved to host "intimate" parties, which mainly compromised of the 1%. Everyone knew it was because the next election was coming up, and he wanted to raise funding. As if he needed it, you mused to yourself, admiring the interior of the mansion. Spilling wine on a nearby couch would cost as much as some student loans.

Still, you were the daughter of a wealthy family, trust fund baby among other things. Your college was paid for, not including the bribing, and you were the darling among many. Daddy's little jewel, and one of the few brats who wasn't forced under the scapel at 16.

You couldn't stand the boys in that circle. They were all the same, figuring that a man of their "status" should have a trophy equally worthy. Or perhaps they wanted an arranged marriage, no bullshit, simply in hopes of linking the family businesses together and gaining your father's support. Often times they were just men who had never heard the word "no", and didn't like hearing it, wealth be damned.

You feel sick to your stomach, seeing one of your "suitors" eyeing you when he enters. He's different from the others, no suit adorning his figure. Instead of a suit and tie, he wears all black, leather jacket and combat boots. The graphic tee is tucked into his ripped jeans, accentuating his tiny waist. You peak at the tattoos on his hands, and the jewelry he wears. Lots of rings, some earrings, and a chain necklace, with a matching one on his pants. He had long hair that hung around his ears, making it where he had to flip his hair to see what was in front of him.

You felt as though the world had stopped, holding your breath as you simply stare at him. He gives you a charming smile, surprisingly cute dimples showing up on either cheek. It felt as though the breath had been knocked out of your lungs, and your stomach was doing flips.

"Oh, that boy! I told him to dress for the occasion," the Senator's wife scowled. She smiles towards you and your mother. "If you'll excuse me."

As soon as she scurries away, you turn to your mother, eyes wide with wonder. "Who's that?"

Your mother gives a judgemental stare to the boy as he's approached. "The Senator's son- Jungkook. You grew up with him when you were about toddlers."

"The Jeons created that?" You couldn't believe it. Those two had sticks shoved so far up their asses you were sure you could see the end whenever they opened their mouths. You would've remembered growing up with a specimen like that. "How come I haven't seen him until now?"

"His parents sent him off to boarding school in Switzerland, hoping it would whip him into shape. It didn't. After he got his degree in college he decided to make some rock band. Apparently he's back in town to work with this new record label- or was it to own his own guitar shop?"

"So he's some baddie rock star?"

"Dear, I told you to speak properly. Like a lady." Your mother sighs. "But in other words, yes. Figures the Senator would make the living embodiment of teenage rebellion- though I'm surprised it's lasted this long."

"I'll say." You hadn't been able to do anything of the sort. Your parents were strict to whip you into the shape, not allowing any form of rebellion, though you have your tiny ways. You learned to appreciate the little things. So when you looked at the Senator's son, in all his indie-rock glory, you couldn't help but admire him.

"I'll see you in a bit, Mother. I do believe I have to acquaint myself," you say, sliding away with ease.

"Y/N!"

You're long gone, though, the lecture Jungkook was surely hearing now over as his mother stomps away, shaking her head. You combed your fingers through your hair, hoping you looked good. You wore a tight red dress, though it wasn't too revealing, as well as a matching set of diamond earrings. Don't even mention the carats on your necklace.

"Hey," you say, giving the coy smile you had mastered so long ago. "Jungkook, right?"

"That's me," he says, taking your hand to bring it up to his lips, winking at you. "And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

"Meeting?" You feign slight offense. "Don't you remember me? Y/N. We grew up together as toddlers." Before he has time to take it seriously, you let your expressions melt back into a smile. "Though I wouldn't worry too much about it- it was long ago."

"I don't think I'll be forgetting you again any time soon," he says, a smirk on his lips.

You giggle at that. "So what brings you here? Doesn't seem to be your kind of scene."

He shrugged. "My dad's the senator, as I'm sure you already know. He figured I'd be able to bring in a few dollars with promoting to our 'friends', along with getting me on the 'right track'. AKA his track. Y'know, politics and that sort of stuff."

"I get that," you nod. "My parents have been pushing me most of tonight to find myself some new boyfriend here."

"And why haven't you? I'd figure a gorgeous girl such as yourself would have no problem."

"The problem isn't with me, mind you," you say, sighing. "Let's just say that most of these guys aren't exactly my-" You nod to the suitor who had been eyeing you the entire time, though he now glares at Jungkook. "-type."

"They aren't my type either," Jungkook jokes, waving in acknowledgment to the man. He leans in close to whisper in your ear, and you can't help but feel your knees go weak at his scent. Was that cologne or did he naturally smell good? "What exactly is your type then, hm?"

"I'm talking to him."

He smiles at that. "Good move, princess."

"Who do you think you're calling princess?"

"Oh? What would you like to be called, then?"

"Wouldn't you like to know? You already have too much power over me. That would just be my one-way ticket to doom." You let your fingers twirl around a lock of his hair, admiring how soft it was. "My name will do for now."

"Fair enough," he chuckles. "Do you want to get some fresh air on the balcony? It's just that wonderbread over there seems like he wants to pick a fight, and I'd rather not get blood on that white shirt of his."

"Is that why you're wearing black? So the blood won't show up?"

"You're wearing red- it'll do just as well."

"Touché. No fighting tonight, though. Wonderbread can't even handle a nosebleed."

"Lead the way then, Y/N."

You're happy to do so but already find yourself cringing as Wonderbread catches up with you before you can leave. "Hey! Y/N! Where are you going off to? The party's just started"

"Jungkook and I are just going to get some fresh air," you assure him, trying to smother the rising feelings of annoyance as well as the urge to groan.

"Jungkook, huh?" Wonderbread looks him up and down, eyes squinted, glaring at his appearance. "The senator's son?"

"That's me," Jungkook says in response.

"You don't look like the type," Wonderbread mutters.

"You mean boring?" Jungkook snorts, giving his own dirty glance up and down Wonderbread's form.

"What are you insinuating?" Wonderbread's face was already getting red. It was always so easy to offend these sorts of guys. They could dish it, but not take it.

"I mean black is slimming. You should dress in a way that flatters you, y'know?" Jungkook plasters on a fake smile that could rival your own. He reaches for Wonderbread's tie, toying with it between his fingers for a few moments. "But judging from your choice of baby blue, I don't think you do."

"Why I oughta-"

"I think now's a good time to get that fresh air!" you say, pushing Jungkook off in the direction of the balcony. "Right, Jungkook?"

He simply shrugs, taking the hint before stalking off in that direction. You're about to follow him when Wonderbread yanks on your arm, a scowl on his face. "I thought you had better taste, Y/N. That you were smart."

"Let go of me, please."

His grip tightens. "Didn't your parents tell you to stay away from guys like that? He'll just get you into trouble- they always do. What with their piercings and tattoos and drugs- stay away from that. He had a choice and could've been like that, but it's clear he wants to be a rebel and get himself in jail."

"I said let go of me." You try to pull your arm back, but he stays firm.

"Why don't you just listen to me and stop for a second. Guys like that will just hurt you. They hurt everyone around them, including themselves. They're scum-"

"I said-"

"Don't be an idiot and stick with your own kind."

"If you don't let go of me right now, I'll scream. I don't care," you grit.

Wonderbread scowls again, muttering to himself as he finally lets go of you. You rub your sore arm, glaring at him. He simply scoffs. "You'll be the laughing stock when you go crying back to your parents."

"Have you ever considered I don't want to be like you people? Like us? Look around, Wonderbread. None of us are happy. You clearly aren't because you can't get laid, at least not by 'your own kind'. I haven't done anything with Jungkook, I just met him tonight and we're getting air, and even if I did, it'd be none of your business. So stop staring at my rack like you have been for the past hour and get a life."

You turn on your heel, marching over to the balcony, leaving Wonderbread far behind you. Jungkook's waiting for you, leaning on the railing.

"Are you ok? I saw some of that back there. I wanted to help, but I didn't want to go all 'Alpha Douchebag' like other guys. Besides you seemed to be able to handle yourself at the end."

You huff, brushing your hands through your hair. "I'm able to defend myself once in a while. I'm not some damsel in distress."

"Never said you were, princess. And trust me when I say I'm no white knight."

"That's why I'm here with you instead of Wonderbread."

"No one with a personality spicier than flour would want to stick around with Wonderbread," he responds.

"You've got a point," you huff. "Guys like him are hard to shake off."

"It's not hard to see why. You're gorgeous and rich, double whammy," Jungkook winks.

You groan. "God, not you too. Besides, you're one to talk. You waltz in here, dressing like sin, son of the senator no less, and you don't expect girls to fawn over you?"

"Who said I didn't expect it?"

"Plus, it's different for guys and girls. In this sort of society guys just want a trophy wife. The girls want a trophy too, though. The hottest guy, the richest guy- a provider," you state. "The gender roles of the high class still stay in the 50s, I'm afraid."

"So you followed me out here because you see me as a provider, huh?"

"Did you invite me out because you saw me as a trophy?"

"No." He shakes his head, his locks bouncing as he did so. It was strangely attractive.

"Well if I just wanted a provider I'd stick with Wonderbread. He'd be more than willing to 'provide' for me."

"The only thing softies like that can't provide is an orgasm," he bluntly says.

You burst out laughing at that. "Oh my god, don't-"

"I'm just saying," he chuckles. "Besides, it's not all that bad. So you're hot and rich- boohoo. First world problems, am I right?"

"I know, I know, I'm privileged but- God, it's annoying."

"It's just a few guys who want to marry you- what's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal?" You hold out your hand, tallying off the reasons. "My parents are pressuring me to marry young, wanting to trust their wealth to a man they don't even know rather than the daughter they raised. I'm constantly sexually harassed, and most of the time when I reject the guy he either doesn't take the hint or just says I was fat or ugly to ease his bruising ego. Everything I do is perceived as a ploy to get a man, and the other chicks go as far as to slut-shame me or say I think I'm better than everyone else because I'm some SJW who doesn't want to get boob surgery to please a man, despite the fact he'll probably be sleeping with an 18-year-old when we're 50 and hating ourselves."

"If it helps, I think your tits are great as they are."

"Did you listen to anything I said?"

"Of course I did, baby. But you have to keep in mind when a guy hears the words 'boob surgery' he tends to tune in more," he jokes. "But yes, I get your struggles. I grew up in the same environment, for the most part."

"Why aren't you out here trying to win a trophy, anyway?"

"Didn't you hear? I was sent off to boarding school. It's good to see an outside world that doesn't cater to your every need," he shrugs. "You know, a world where women are more than trophies and guys are more than the thickness of their wallets."

"Instead the thickness of their cocks?"

He winks. "Now you're thinking like me."

"So you got outside perspective and chose to follow that instead of a life that would've provided you with everything?"

"What can I say? I've got passion for things outside of elections and sexism."

"Let me guess- you're in a rock band, ride a motorcycle, and play guitar," you roll your eyes. "Color me impressed."

There's a moment of silence, and you turn to him, finding him bashfully stunned. "No shit! You're actually all of those things?"

"I'll have you know I own a guitar shop along with the band. Have to pay the bills somehow."

"Oh my god- you're like every teen girl's wet dream! The living embodiment of a Harry Styles fanfiction but without the toxicity!" You guffaw. "I can't believe this. I should've known. Leather jackets, long hair, tattoos- fuck!"

"Yeah yeah, you've made your point, princess."

"I mean, I thought I was a bit of a parent's worse nightmare when it came to youthful rebellion but you're the icing on the cake," you continue. "Fuck, you'd piss my parents off."

"Getting turned on by the thought of it, little girl?" he teases, trying to get you to back down, quirking a brow at your amusement.

"You know it," you flirt back, tugging at his belt, fueled further. "I love nothing more than showing them I'm more grown-up than they realize."

"Oh?" He starts to take you seriously, gulping. "I would've figured a Daddy's girl like you would've loved pleasing her parents."

"I guess you could say I'm a different kind of Daddy's girl," you wink. You laugh at his serious expression, knowing your little joke was in full effect. "Calm down, Jeon. I'm not going to fuck you on the balcony- despite how my type you are."

"I'm your type?"

"Haven't I made it obvious?" you snicker. "I told you I loved nothing more than to piss my parents off- and you're the embodiment of that. I could see my dad's face going red already! I mean, motorcycles, rock band, tattoos, leather, guitars- already my type, but it's the cherry on top."

"You're weird about that, huh? I knew some girls were into this whole look, but I wouldn't have figured it was for the same reason as you."

"All girls who are attracted to guys like you are attracted for the same reasons," you muse. "Daddy issues."

"Makes sense," he hums. "But I'm not all that dreamy, princess."

"Oh? Explain."

"I drink."

"Vodka I hope."

"I also smoke. Weed."

"Better than vaping like the 'cool kids'."

"I'm broke."

That's the one that takes you by surprise. "How's that? You're the senator's son."

He shrugs. "My parents cut me off after I came back from boarding school and told them I wanted to join a rock band and make a guitar shop. They hate my look as much as your parents would- though they brought me here in hopes that those my age could rub off on me in time for the election. I make enough to live in my apartment and provide for myself, but I don't think I'd be able to be the same kind of 'provider' as Wonderbread over there."

"Well, what do you think I'd use Daddy's card for?" you say. "It has been gathering dust..."

"God, you're serious about this," he laughs. "I'm on a fast track of getting a rich girlfriend and I didn't even have to lift a finger. I'll have to start calling off my other girls soon enough."

"Not quite," you say, pressing your finger against his lips. "There's one thing that'll prevent me from dating a guy like you- no matter how appealing you may seem."

His brows furrow in a state of confusion. "And what's that, princess?"

"There's one thing that's very consistent about men like you- what, with your 'bad boy with a heart of gold' persona," you say, tilting his chin up a bit. "Heart breakers. All of you. In all of the stories, fiction or reality, it ends the same. A broken heart one way or another, even temporarily. I'm guessing with you it'd be those other girls you mentioned. If not that, arguments because of how different we are. Or perhaps it'd be my parents saying enough's enough and taking me away or something- I don't know. It's the only thing that my parents and Wonderbread get right, though."

"So what does that boil down to?"

"It boils down to the fact that I wouldn't fall for someone like you."

"Charming?"

"Sleazy."

"Handsome?"

"Generic."

"Dangerous?"

"Extremely."

Jungkook chuckles at that. "I don't think you'd be able to choose whether or not you fall for someone, princess. I've been told I'm quite irresistible."

"I'm sure you are- but I made my choice the moment you stepped through those double doors," you smile, tapping his nose. "I'm not going to be another broken heart. That I guarantee."

"Oh, you read too much fanfiction. What Harry Styles fanfiction gave you this mindset? The Bad Boy's Rich Girl?" He laughs. "I see it now. I assure you, baby, I'm a lover, not a fighter."

"I can handle fighting. I was raised in it. A lover like you isn't what I need."

"Are you sure? I'm confident in my loving abilities."

"Ha," you flatly say. "Sure you are. Choke me, baby."

"Give me the safe word first, baby."

You roll your eyes. "You're no good for me."

"Poison."

"You'd break my heart."

"Like so many others'."

"You'll call me?"

"At 2 AM."

"God, you're sleazy."

"You love it, baby."

"Shut up and put your number in my phone so I can wait two days to text back."

You and Jungkook had been texting non-stop since the senator's party. Surprisingly enough, between the banter and flirting, he was a very genuine person. He was caring and sent the same memes, though you were considering unfollowing meme accounts so that you'd be pleasantly surprised. Damn him for having the same sense of humor as you.

You were in the middle of spamming the skull emoji when your mother called for you. You rolled your eyes, huffing as you put down your phone, checking your appearance once more in the mirror. Your parents told you to get dolled up for the evening, and you could only hope they were taking you to see the musical that was in town.

Once you glided down the stairs, however, you were supremely disappointed.

"Y/N," your mother beamed, "this is Jin. He's a doctor, and he's involved in-"

"Non-invasive surgery," Jin interrupted, already pissing you off. "Pleasure to meet you- your parents told me all about you."

"Pleasure's all mine," you say through gritted teeth, already absolutely pissed. You turn towards your mother. "May I talk to you for a moment?"

"Of course, sweetheart." You see her internally roll her eyes as she escorts you to the kitchen, where you immediately turn on your heel.

"This is the fifth boy you've brought home for me to date! How many more do you need to bring for you to realize I'm not interested in them?"

"Sweetheart, you have to understand-"

"Understand what? No means no. I don't like any of them. The fact you won't stop pressuring me into dating strangers isn't helping, either."

"We just want to see you settled down with a proper gentleman-"

"Settled down!? I'm in my young 20s! I'm nowhere near menopause, for your information. I've got my whole life ahead of me before I even have to think about marriage."

"Don't raise your voice at me, young lady," she fumes. "What, would you rather we bring... bring a Jeon Jungkook?!"

"Is that what this is about?"

"We know you've become affiliated with him, yes. We're trying to get you on the right path."

"To hell with that noise!" you burst. "Jungkook is no less- no, more of a man than those dweebs that walk in! You want to know why? Because he's honest! I know these guys better than you. They might act all nice and charming to you guys, but that's just because they're after your money. You can't seem to see that, however, because it's not your tits they're staring at! It's not you who's the trophy. It's not you who is sexually harassed and seen as a prize to be won!"

"Young lady, I won't stand for such behavior!"

"I'm a grown adult, and I'll date bastards like Jeon Jungkook if I so please," you huff, turning away. "Tell Jin it was so nice to meet him, but unfortunately another 'proper gentleman' is keeping me occupied."

You stomp away before she can grab you and force you on your date, and by the time you're in a secluded area, you burst into tears. You simply wish your parents could see you as an adult who is capable of making her own decisions. That you're allowed to live your life and you're different from them and that's ok. They couldn't seem to get it through their thick heads, however.

You were sick of it. Absolutely sick of it. Over 20 years of this bullshit, and now it was worse, what with them pressuring you to jump into marriage with someone 'respectable'.

There had to be some way to get back at them. To get it through to them. To get back at them for their bullshit or get them to see you're not some naive 16-year-old or something.

With a shaky hand, you pick up your phone, dialing the number to call your friend.

"Jungkook? Yeah... yeah, I've been crying. Can you, uh, do you think you could do me a massive favor?"

Jungkook had to admit, it came as a surprise when you asked to move in with him.

It really didn't register with him, however, until you pulled up in front of his building in your luxury convertible, boxes filling up every inch of space.

He had no problem with you becoming his roommate- after all, you promised you wouldn't bother interfering with his bachelor lifestyle. In fact, he was quite amused.

Fake dating. Your deep-rooted frustration for your parents was quite apparent, but he didn't think it'd go this far. You'd live with him for a while under the guise of boyfriend/girlfriend, at least to your parents. He didn't quite understand the revenge scheme or how it worked, but he understood enough. Between your choked up sobs, you had explained the plethora of men your parents have brought to your house under the guise of a date when in reality they were trying to pressure her into marriage.

Even if that hadn't been happening, Jungkook would've let you come in. You two were friends. You had insisted that you would pay your half of the rent and wouldn't become his actual girlfriend, and admittedly, Jungkook liked the thought of a roommate.

"What happens if your parents cut you off?" Jungkook had questioned you, knowing how rough it had been for him when it happened.

"Unbeknownst to my parents, I have a job," you explained.

"What? You said you just used your father's credit card when we first met!"

"I barely knew you! Now that I know you're not some creep I can tell you. If you must know, I'm the assistant to some chief executive for a fashion company."

"The Devil Wears Chanel?"

"It's The Devil Wears Prada, but close enough."

Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit worried for you, especially now that he saw you again. You lifted your designer sunglasses to reveal tired, worn eyes, a look only achieved through crying. He greeted you with a smile, however, hugging you once you stepped out of your car.

"How you holding up, princess?" he questioned, giving you a warm embrace.

"God, better now, thank you." You melted into his hug. "Thank you for doing this. It means a lot."

"Hey, I promised to piss off your parents, didn't I? I'm a man of my word," he chuckled. He stepped back, combing over your hair affectionately. "Now, here's the deal, oh precious fake girlfriend of mine. As roommates, we've got a few rules. Rule number one: No fucking after 3 AM. Despite my many escapades, I have a bedtime. Rule number two: when one person cooks, the other washes the dishes. Simple. Rule number three: Be honest. We're living together, so we've got to be honest. Lying, secrets- none of that. You've got something on your mind, you say it. We'll yell at each other for a few minutes and settle it. Sound good?"

You nod. "Sounds like a plan."

"Alright. And the fake dating rules, baby?"

"Nothing much. Drive with me once or twice to visit my parents, to show we're 'serious'. We can go into details about our story if need be. Keep up the act around rich brats."

"Sounds good," he chuckles. "Already turning into a Wattpad fanfiction, isn't it?"

You smile weakly, a light giggle escaping your lips. "Oh god, it really is, isn't it?"

"Hey, there's a reason they're popular. We've just got to do it better." He looks back towards your car filled with boxes. "Here, let me help you with your things, Your Highness."

"Why thank you, my humble servant," you say, getting a box yourself. "I sure do love a big strong man!"

"If only I weren't a peasant boy who worked at the stables."

"Indeed. You're filthy- I shouldn't even let you touch my valuables," you snicker, "but I suppose you'll have to do."

"You're right about the filthy part," Jungkook winks.

Being roommates with Jungkook wasn't what you expected.

Your work was getting more hectic, so you were arriving later than usual. It absolutely exhausted you, and you'd be stumbling in, kicking your heels off at the front door only to collapse into Jungkook's arms, who would wait for you. Every. Single. Night.

You had told him that he didn't have to wait for you. His work ended at 6, and even the nights when he'd play with his band wouldn't go too late, as they play until midnight for their usual gigs.

Still, he had insisted. Something about not wanting you to feel alone. You'd never tell him how much you appreciated it. Instead of the vast, empty mansion, you lived in, where the only thing that would embrace you was dust, you lived in a small, messy apartment and collapsed into a pair of warm arms.

On the few days you were off you were able to properly spend time with your roommate. Every other Friday would be movie night, where one of you would pick the movie for the two of you to watch, all because you believed the other was "tasteless". Nevertheless, it was time you truly enjoyed, and you were genuinely disappointed whenever you had to miss it because of your job.

Living with him was domestic in a good way. It was a friendly face to come home to every day, a warm hug to embrace you whenever you kicked off your heels. It was burnt bacon on some mornings and lazy Sunday clothing to borrow whenever you felt like it.

Sure, it wasn't always the greatest. Often times you guys would bicker over some basic chores and neatness. Jungkook left his clothes everywhere in the living room, and you'd leave all your heels in a heap in front of the door. However, you thought it'd be worse.

You were suspecting people over every other night, all as tatted and pierced as he was. Weekly bong parties where they'd try to hotbox the apartment, maybe. Women draping themselves over him every other morning, wanting to stay for the day, glaring at you because they saw you as a threat.

There was some of that, but not really. Jungkook, when it came down to it, was just another ordinary guy. Human. He'd have some of his bandmates and friends come over once in a while, and they were just as handsome and tatted as he was. They were polite and friendly, though, and didn't even leave much of a mess behind. Jungkook would get weed for the two of you to smoke once in a while. As for the women? Well, there was only one woman you had encountered.

It was a Friday night and you were able to come home at the usual hour, kicking your heels off and letting out the high ponytail you had in your hair. You massaged your scalp, making eye contact with Jungkook from his position on the couch. You strut over, plopping yourself down by his side and positioning yourself where you can lay your head in his lap.

"How was your day at work, princess?"

"Exhausting," you groaned. You'd never admit it to Jungkook, but you had warmed up to the nickname as of late. It made you feel warm inside. Special. You weren't a princess. You were his princess.

His fingers start running through your hair, giving you a gentle massage as he hums in understanding. "Want to talk about it?"

"Just the same old shit, honestly. You'd figure I'd be used to it by now."

"You'd figure," he chuckles. "Well, I'm glad you're working hard. It might be difficult, and the boss may be a bitch, and the pay lower than it should be..."

"But?"

He smiles. "But... if it makes you happy, then I'll support you."

"God, I think you're halfway to fixing my daddy issues already," you grin. You look up at him, noticing his long hair was styled, and a leather jacket adorning him. Typically when he was in the apartment he'd simply lounge around with uncombed curls and glasses, one of his baggy white shirts revealing the tatted sleeves you loved. "Hey, what're you all dressed up for?"

"Oh? This? I've got a date tonight," he shrugs, eyes back up on the TV.

"Oh," was all you could manage to say. He had said it so bluntly like it wasn't a big deal. Well, it wasn't. He was your roommate. Why should you care whether or not he's got a date? It's not like you had feelings for him or anything. That would be ridiculous. It would only complicate things.

Jungkook was your friend. He let you move in with him and comforted you in your time of need. Sure, you guys flirted a lot, and there was a lot of physical affection, from combing through each other's hair, cuddling on the couch during movie night, or tight hugs on especially rough days. But none of those meant that he liked you. Maybe you just kept thinking back to the air of mutual attraction, the first night you met. Maybe you had lulled yourself in a false sense of comfort, thinking of him as a boyfriend.

But he wasn't. You guys didn't kiss. You guys didn't have sex. You guys didn't even say anything about liking one another. For all you knew, he saw you as a sister at this point. The two of you knew each other like the back of your hand at this point.

Besides, the worst thing you could do was fall for your roommate.

Not an option.

Still, there was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that made you squirm in discomfort. You felt... unsettled, by the thought of Jungkook with another girl.

Was she pretty? Was she like you? Or was she more like him? Was she covered in tattoos and a cute septum piercing to go along with it? Did she have brightly colored hair and like punk rock? Yeah, you could picture Jungkook with a girl like that. They'd make an aesthetically pleasing couple.

"So, tell me about her," you say, realizing the two of you had been silent since you got lost in thought.

He shrugged again. "Not much to say. She's nice. She's been visiting my shop a lot recently. She's got some old guitar that she refuses to let go of, so she visits me for repairs. She visits so often I started to think she was breaking it on purpose. Eventually, she asked for my number and... well, now I've got a date."

"Cool," you nod. "What time do you have to leave?"

"I'll probably leave to pick her up in about 15 minutes," Jungkook says, looking down at his phone. "Actually... I think I have to leave now. I lost track of time."

You raise your head to let him up, and he checks himself once more in the reflection of the microwave in the kitchen. You chuckle, walking up to him and straightening out his clothes, fixing his hair a bit.

"There we go, now you look... maybe presentable," you smile.

He laughs a bit at that, ruffling your hair. "I promise we can have movie night tomorrow. If not, you can pick. We can even watch that god awful Fifty Shades movie you've been bugging me to watch."

"It's for the irony! We'll be watching it to make fun of it!" you exclaim, part of your usual banter about the series.

"Uh-huh. Just don't get horny based on that garbage, or I'll have half the mind to kick you out," he jokes. He grabs the key to his motorcycle and grabs the extra hot pink helmet- the one the two of you had picked out together once you started riding with him. "Don't bother staying up for me, ok? You need your beauty sleep."

"Is that your way of saying I'm ugly?" you say, quirking a brow in a comical manner.

"Absolutely hideous," he grins, kissing the top of your forehead. "Sweet dreams, princess."

He shut the door behind him, and you felt your heart sink in your chest.

Maybe you did feel something for Jungkook.

She wasn't exactly what you were expecting.

To be fair though, there was no way for you to expect waking up to a nude woman in your kitchen.

Typically you would've ignored Jungkook's suggestion for you to go to sleep, instead opting to head to bed once he left. You had been completely wiped from the workday, and could barely keep your eyes open. Maybe your body simply had pity on you, choosing to put you in REM sleep before you had to hear the two of them having sex.

Maybe you thought Jungkook was the type to do it at the girl's place. Maybe you thought he was the type to kick the girl out as soon as the deed was done. However, he was neither.

You had woken up to go to the kitchen, prepared to make your morning cereal when you heard the sizzling of bacon on a pan. Ah, Jungkook must be making breakfast. No doubt he's burned it again by now- something about not liking the bacon to be too fatty. The two of you really knew it was because he couldn't cook anything other than ramen.

"Jungkook, are you- oh shit!"

Instead of your edgy roommate, you were greeted by a woman wearing nothing but an apron. Literally nothing. She had been turned away from you, and you had gotten a full view of her ass and sideboob through the apron.

Out of instinct, you cover your eyes, hearing her shriek.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't know someone else lived here. You're not his girlfriend, are you? He told me he was single!"

"What? No, no! I'm his roommate, Y/N," you say, slowly peaking through your fingers. She was facing you now, and though she couldn't change at that moment, the apron covered up everything. You let out a sigh, lowering your hands.

"Oh, well nice to meet you, Y/N!" She smiled brightly, offering an awkward hand. "I didn't know Jungkook had a female roommate."

You shake her hand, quirking a brow. "You didn't see all the shoes by the door?"

"I was a bit... preoccupied, so to say," she chuckled awkwardly. "I'm Solji."

"Nice to meet you, um, Solji," you say. "You're Jungkook's date from last night, right?"

"Yeah." Solji tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, and at that moment you completely get it. She's pretty in that natural kind of way. The kind of pretty that looks gorgeous without makeup, but would probably look good either way. Anything she did could be done with grace.

Jungkook walks into the kitchen in only a t-shirt and briefs. "What was that scream about- oh."

"Hi, Jungkook." Solji's voice is breathy, as though even seeing Jungkook again made her dizzy. You knew that feeling all too well. "I-I'm sorry. You were asleep and I couldn't bear to wake you up, but I thought it'd be rude to leave, so I thought I'd make breakfast! And then your roommate..."

"Y/N," you help, noticing she had forgotten your name already.

"Y/N! Right, sorry." She smiles apologetically. "And then Y/N walked in..."

"We're good now though, I think we were both just startled," you say. You look between the two awkwardly, an air of silence hanging over the three of you. "I, um, need to... pee."

You exit the situation as quickly as you could, holing yourself up in your room for the majority of the day. It isn't until later that day, when you lounge in the kitchen, stuffing your face with pop tarts after doing your best to avoid social interaction that you see Jungkook.

"Hey, Kook," you say, wiping the crumbs off your face. You probably looked like a mess right now, from lounging in your sweats. You couldn't care less, though. You were starving, and Jungkook had seen you worse. "Where's Solji?"

"Hm? Oh, she left."

"She left? But she seemed so happy to be here."

"Well, then I guess a more blunt way to put it is that I kicked her out," Jungkook shrugged.

You're stunned by his clarification.

As though sensing your shock or judgment, Jungkook quickly changes the topic. "So, movie night tonight? Since we missed it last night? I can make the ramen."

"I... yeah. Let's do it."

He grinned. "Great! I'll get alcohol too, and we can take a shot every time they say some cringy dirty talk."

You rolled your eyes, unable to hold back the smile that tugged at your lips. "You really want to destroy my liver, don't you?"

The two of you didn't speak of Solji again.

You still hug on tightly to Jungkook's waist as he rolls up to your parents' mansion, clinging even after his motorcycle comes to a complete halt.

"You know, I'm pretty sure your waist is smaller than mine," you note, finally loosening your grip. You had seen Jungkook shirtless plenty of times- the man child had a tendency to prance around the apartment half-naked. Still, his abs were rock hard- and you felt so squishy in comparison.

"That's just because I work out, baby," he chuckles, taking off his helmet and giving his locks a dramatic swoosh of freedom. He grins boyishly at you, helping you take your helmet off as well. "It wouldn't kill you to get out of the apartment for something other than work, you know."

"Excuse you! I work out plenty in the confines of my room," you fume.

"Sure- like those little girl weights do anything," he jokes.

"Well, I oughta-"

"Miss Y/N."

The two of you look up at the front door, the butler looking at you with that usual scornful expression of his. He glowers at you and your fake boyfriend, giving a sneer. You'd figure after all these years the man would show a little warmth towards you- but then you remembered it was your parents who were paying him, not you.

"I do believe your parents are expecting you and your... boyfriend, miss," he says, eyes scanning over Jungkook with clear disdain.

Jungkook only grins in response, putting the helmets up and helping you hop off, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "Lead the way, chump."

The butler scoffs at that, turning on his heel to follow Jungkook's orders as the younger man giggles. One of Jungkook's favorite hobbies, as it turns out, was pissing off rich people. Must be the socialist in him.

"Chump?" you question, raising a brow. "What century are you from?"

"Oh, don't say that. Besides, I highly doubt I would've been let in if I had called him a cuck."

"I'm surprised we even got this far."

Jungkook, determined to help you piss off your parents, had decided to wear a plain black t-shirt that revealed as many tattoos as possible, as well as chains and hoop earrings. His jeans were ripped, his sneakers were scuffed, and he was the most handsome man to walk the earth.

Your parents had insisted that you finally visit them. You had never been away from home for this long, and they had suspected you'd be on your knees groveling by the first week. Still, you held your own and seemed to be doing well for yourself. So naturally, they had to see the boy who agreed to take you in, who they were sure would break your heart by this point. Perhaps they'd beg for you back while they were at it.

They didn't do that, however, instead greeting you with a hug.

"Darling," your mother says, giving you that familiar tight embrace that left you unable to breathe. "We've missed you."

"Missed you too," you grunt. "How have you two been?"

"Fine, fine, the usual," she says. Her eyes glance over the two of you, and Jungkook quickly locks his hand with yours, fingers interlocked as he gives a tight squeeze of support. "And... you two?"

"Thriving," Jungkook interjects. "She really takes care of me. I don't know how I got along without her."

"I don't do much- he's the one who usually stays up to make sure I'm home safe, as well as help me with the dishes... Or at least tries." The two of you exchange a small smile at that.

"I see..." Your mother's mouth goes small, and at that moment you have a hard time reading her. Or maybe she was having a hard time reading you. Maybe she could sense something was off. That the two of you weren't real.

Your heart started racing in your chest, and you silently prayed to yourself that she wouldn't be able to see through your ruse.

Before you could overthink further, however, she smiled. "Lunch, then?"

Your father claps his hands in delight. "Dear, you'll be glad to know we have your favorite! We had the cooks make it especially for you."

The four of you walk to the dining room to eat, and Jungkook leans in. "Wait, what's your favorite?"

"It's literally just spaghetti."

Surprisingly, lunch went better than expected. Your parents asked you and Jungkook exactly how you two came to be, and you had your story under lock. Most of it was the truth- you had reunited at the Senator's party and gotten to know each other through becoming friends. Eventually, the two of you began to form feelings, dating a bit before you decided to leave your parents and move in with him. You explained a lot about the living arrangements between you two, aside from the fact you two were just roommates. You'd explain small things like movie night and how you'd leave your shoes by the door, or how he'd burn anything that wasn't ramen and how he'd wait for you to get home every night without fail.

Before you knew it the lunch was over and you had to leave. Jungkook was getting the motorcycle started, making sure everything was in order while you hung back to speak to your parents at the front door.

"So..." You trailed off, unable to start.

"So?" Your mother looked at you quizzically. "Dear, remember what I told you about finishing everything you start. That includes sentences."

You take a deep breath. "So you're not going to insist I move out of Jungkook's apartment?"

Your parents exchanged looks before turning back to you.

"That was our original plan, however," your father sighs, "it appears that this isn't a situation we can put in our own hands. We'll let you two stay together."

You furrow your brows, confused. "Wait, what? You're letting me stay with him?"

"Of course, darling. We know you may think of us as evil capitalists, or whatever the liberals try to convince you of-"

"Father."

"-but we aren't evil enough to stand in the way of love."

"...Love?"

"Yes, love," your mother sighs. "We were prepared to demand you move out the moment you got to the door, but you look at that boy the same way I look at your father, and the way he looks at me. I suppose you reminded me of how we were in the old days."

"Besides, you do seem very comfortable with the boy. More sure of yourself. Perhaps it is beneficial for you to be living away from your parents- after all, we won't be here forever," your father says.

"Don't say that," you say, frowning.

"It's true, dear. Not that we want it to happen any time soon, or to be morbid, but we're simply glad there's going to be someone to take care of you after we're gone." Your mother looks back to Jungkook, who is now looking at the three of you with curiosity. "He might not be the most dignified boy, despite the fact that he comes from such a prestigious family. However, he loves you, I can say that much. I don't think he'll break your heart any time soon."

"If he does though, I'll kill him," your father threatens.

"You won't be killing anyone," you assure him. "Jungkook treats me well."

"That's all we ask." Your mother gives you a kiss on the forehead. "Love like that can't be faked, my dear. Who are we to step in the way?"

You give the two of them a tight hug, tears springing in the corners of your eyes. You wipe them away quickly before looking back at Jungkook, who was still waiting for you patiently. "Well... I should get going."

"Remember we love you."

"Love you, too."

You put down the hot pink helmet, silent. You and Jungkook had just arrived back at the apartment, and neither of you had said a word about your parents.

"So..." Jungkook trails off. "What'd your parents say? Right before we left? It seemed pretty serious."

You were silent as Jungkook continued.

"Let me guess- 'You can't go out with that boy! He's a good for nothing, disgrace-'"

"They said they liked you- us." You cut his impression short. "They said love like ours couldn't be faked. They're letting me continue to live with you."

"...Oh." Jungkook clearly didn't know how to respond to that. He was stunned, a deer in the headlights.

The two of you are silent, awkwardness hanging between you two.

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" you say with a nervous chuckle.

Please say it isn't.

"Yeah, totally," Jungkook laughed along, his smile matching yours. "Must mean we did a good job of faking it, huh?"

I wasn't faking it.

"Maybe we should go into acting," you smiled. "Prepared to have me live with you forever?"

"Always, princess," he grins, ruffling your hair. "You know I can't have a moment go by without you by my side."

"If only my parents could've heard that."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Love like that can't be faked- little do they know."

"Yeah." You wave it off with a laugh, putting an end to the awkward discussion.

Little do they know.

Tonight was the night you were finally going to see Jungkook's band, Obsidian Chaos, perform.

Sure, he had many other performances, but you were never able to make them because of work. Your boss, however, seemed to have an extreme case of the swine flu, and therefore was unable to perform her duties. Code: Day off.

So here you were, in a bar that would have any other girl of your social standing shriek in horror. Everyone here looked something like a freak show in a conservative's book, and the place reeked of weed and liquor. You were living for it.

You were singing along to one of the band's newest songs. You knew the words already, having listened to the songs on repeat using your Spotify Premium.

Jungkook looked good on stage- his skin shiny with sweat as he poured his heart out into the songs. He was really revving it up on the guitar, the bassist and drummer both keeping up in stride. They were truly something special, and you found yourself glad that they were a bit more underground. It made you feel like you could keep them to yourself.

It wasn't until they finished you were able to meet the bandmates.

You had never met them before, as they were always practicing in the drummer's garage. They didn't have much need to go to Jungkook's apartment.

They were similar to him, though, also dressed in dark clothing with piercings and tattoos. Equally as hot, in your opinion.

The drummer greets you. "So you're the girl our precious guitarist is going on about!" He picks you up and gives you a hug, twirling as he did so. "I'm the drummer, Jimin!"

"Hey, Jimin!" You didn't even mind how affectionate the guy was, as it didn't seem perverted in the slightest. Perverted hugs were something you had to get used to at a young age, sadly. You shuddered to think back to your father's friends who would give you tight, lingering hugs at 14, all in hopes to feel your developing breasts against their chests.

"Ignore him, he always acts like a puppy whenever there's a pretty girl," the bassist says, extending his hand for you to shake. You did. "I'm Yoongi, the bassist. If I had known Jungkook's roommate was so gorgeous, I would've smoked some of his weed a long time ago."

"I could've just brought it to you, dude," Jungkook says, rolling his eyes.

"I don't trust your shit, man."

"You guys were great up there," you compliment, grinning. "I seriously think Obsidian Chaos is my most played artist on Spotify. The name's pretty neat too- both pretentious and edgy."

"Well, thank you. Jungkook here wanted our name to be ReBex- but luckily seniority rules. We've got a new album coming up soon- Jungkook's gotten a lot of inspiration to write, as of late," Yoongi says. "I wouldn't have thought a girl like you would be into our music, though."

"What's that supposed to mean?" you say teasingly, feigning offense.

"You don't exactly fit in here, sweetheart. You stand out," he chuckles.

"How could she not, though? She's hot!" Jimin exclaims.

"So I'd blend in a bit more in something like this?" You yank Yoongi's beanie off, messing up your hair before sliding it on. You pose in it, wiggling your brows as though to get under Yoongi's skin. "I think I look better in this than you do."

"I agree," Jimin says, smiling.

Yoongi only smirks at that. "I agree too- but I think you'd look better in nothing at all, personally."

"Is that so?"

"Hey hey hey!" Jungkook jumps in before the sexual tension can jump further. "Rule number four! I'm adding this now- no fucking the members of Obsidian Chaos!"

"Wouldn't that include you too?" Jimin questions.

Jungkook thinks for a moment. "Revision! No fucking my bandmates."

You all laugh at that.

Jungkook wasn't sure what was keeping you so late.

Today you were supposed to be out clubbing with a few of your friends. You definitely deserved a night of fun, and seeing as you weren't lounging around a mansion anymore, your preppy friends hardly got to see you. Jungkook told you he thought it was a good idea for you to be dragged out, and despite the fact he wished he could've come with you- just to keep an eye on you, of course- he had to tend to the shop and write songs with Obsidian Chaos.

Still, this was a ridiculous hour. He had gotten used to staying up this late for you- your job was an abhorrent one, in his opinion. No one should have to stay at work for that long.

The only thing that was keeping him awake was the worry that wracked his brain. Even he didn't club this late- and he had been to quite a number of clubs.

His heavy lids stayed pried open as he wondered where you were. Were you all right? Was everything ok?

What if you were hurt?

What if you had gotten into an accident on the way there? Or the way back home?

What if some creep roofied you? What if your friends had left you at the club?

He shook his head, running his hands through his hair. No, he had to stay optimistic. You were a grown woman, you could care for yourself.

Right?

He began biting his nails as he read his messages to you, asking when you were coming home. It was a nervous habit he had picked up as a kid. He couldn't believe he was regressing back to these habits, yet, here he was.

He huffed, grabbing a jacket, on his way to the club, when suddenly he heard the rattle of the doorknob.

You burst through the door.

With someone else.

The stranger was all over you, his hands roaming up and down your skimpy dress. You awkwardly kicked the door shut, your eyes firmly shut and mouth pressed against his. You moaned when he pinned you against the door, your wrists trapped in his large hands as his mouth began to travel to the nape of your neck, leaving marks in his wake.

Jungkook was frozen, immobile as he watched you hook your leg around the stranger, drawing him closer, pressing his body impossibly closer to your own. The stranger let out a husky growl that had you shuddering beneath him.

There was something oddly familiar about the stranger, though Jungkook knew he had never seen him before in his life. Maybe it was the tattoos that peaked out from beneath the sleeves of his leather jacket. Maybe it was the combat boots or the multiple ear piercings, or even his shaggy hair.

Jungkook couldn't help but realize the man's alternative style was eerily familiar to his own.

It was at that moment you finally opened your eyes from the pure bliss, only to come face to face with Jungkook.

You gasped in surprise, quickly pushing against the stranger's shoulders to pry him off you. "Taehyung," you said in a serious tone, though you sounded breathless.

The man grunted, confused as to why you wanted to stop. He got off of you, turning around to lock eyes with Jungkook.

"Oh, sorry man, didn't see you there," Taehyung chuckled. "Was occupied, you know?"

Jungkook finally found the words to speak, though his mouth felt dry. It felt as though his tongue were too big. "I- yeah, no worries, dude. I'll leave you two to it."

"I- Jungkook," you said.

"Shit, is she your girl?" Taehyung questioned.

"No, my roommate," Jungkook answered. "I was just waiting for her to get home- make sure she's safe and all."

"So you wouldn't mind if we...?"

"Just, um, keep it down. I'll be heading to bed."

"Sweet, bro," Taehyung grinned, turning back to you, leaning in to give you a kiss.

Jungkook finally unfroze, quick to turn on his heel and retreat to his room. He could go to bed now, seeing that you were home safe and sound. He should have no problem falling asleep, what with the anxiety and worry no longer plaguing him.

Despite this, however, as well as the soundproof headphones he had on his ears, he wasn't able to get a wink of sleep.

It was probably apparent the following morning. He had bags under his eyes and kept looking as though he'd faceplant into his cereal.

"You look like shit this morning," you remarked, reaching over to tousle his hair.

Jungkook noted that your new boyfriend was nowhere to be found. You seemed well put together. Your hair was pulled up in a bun instead of the bed head he had been expecting, and you wore the same pajamas as always. Maybe it was the post-sex glow that made you seem so lively.

"Don't worry about me," he yawned, stirring his spoon around in the cereal. He usually loved Lucky Charms, but he found his appetite... absent. Addressing the elephant in the room, he sighs. "So, where's your boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend?" You looked at him quizzically before a look of realization painted your features. "Oh! You mean Taehyung?"

"That's the fucker."

"I kicked him out once you went to bed," you shrug.

"Huh?"

"We... Well, we didn't do anything. I wasn't in the mood to have sex last night, I guess," you clarified.

"I... um..." Jungkook didn't know what to say.

"Yeah, so... sorry if you put on those bulky headphones of yours. Knowing you, you just played Waterparks at full blast in an attempt to block out noises that weren't being made," you chuckled nervously.

"You didn't have to kick him out on my account," Jungkook said, scratching the back of his neck. "It's still a bit before 3. It's not against the roommate agreement."

"No, no, don't worry. I wanted to," you said, offering a weak smile. "I was just... tired."

"You sure? I mean it- you don't have to stay abstinent on my account. I've brought someone home before. It'd be hypocritical of me being upset with you doing the same."

"I mean it, Jungkook, I wanted to. I just wasn't in the mood."

You seemed to be in the mood before, Jungkook thought. Had he not walked in, he had no doubt the two of you would've gotten more hot and heavy than earlier.

Jungkook felt guilty for ruining your potential hook up. "Alright, well, if that's what you wanted, my guy."

Your smile faltered a little. "No princess?"

Jungkook chuckled warmly at that, reaching forward to pull you in. "My bad, princess," he said properly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I was just relieved that you were here and safe. I won't lie when I say I wasn't worried- I was just about to head out to look for you."

"Thank you for staying up so late for me."

"Anything for my princess."

"I'm pretty sure your father would send a SWAT team on my ass if he found out I was letting his little girl do this," Jungkook laughed, watching as you coughed after taking a hit.

"Shut-" cough "-the fuck up, Jungkook."

The two of you were sitting on his couch, smoking weed. It was the first time you had ever smoked pot with Jungkook, as the moment you got home after a long day at work, you asked whether or not you two could smoke together. Well, demanded was a more accurate term. Jungkook didn't question it though, instead giving you that same, obnoxious, amused smirk.

"Is this your first time smoking weed, baby?"

"I haven't smoked since I was 16," you say, taking another hit, letting it settle deep into your lungs before coughing numerous times. "It was only twice with some guy who thought I'd blow him if I got high enough. My first time I didn't feel anything despite four hits. The second time I took 6, but his weed was so weak I didn't feel much. Man, was he pissed."

"A guy like Wonderbread, I'm guessing?"

You laugh. "Alas, even commoners feel privileged. I'll let you know though I didn't even touch his little cheesedick."

"You just used his pot and took advantage of him, huh?"

"Oh please! That's not it at all. Either I take advantage of him than the other way around. His intentions were totally sketchy, hoping I'd become inebriated enough to fulfill the lewd fantasies he had garnered. If he was willing to waste weed on a girl, he should've left it at that. I didn't owe him anything. No matter how much shit guys give, whether it's weed or Lamborghinis, you don't owe them anything. You don't owe them love, sex, or a relationship. It's their choice whether or not they want to buy your affections, but those feelings cannot be owed. Women are not in debt to men because they fool themselves into thinking that they deserve blowjobs because they're 'nice' or 'waste shit' on the woman."

Jungkook whistled. "I sense a lot of pent up anger today. I gotta say, I never expected you to demand my stash. Wait, no, I did. But I expected it sooner."

"My boss is a bitch," you mutter. "She's great at her job, and I admire her, but God, she's a cunt."

"What'd she do?"

"She's just-" You let out a frustrated groan, taking a deep inhale from the blunt before puffing it out. "She's so condescending and demanding. She expects me to be little miss perfect and thinks I'm lazy because I'm privileged. It's like no matter how hard I work and prove myself she still can't see me as anything other than a spoiled rich brat. Every tiny mistake I make confirms it, and every big accomplishment goes ignored."

"Are you unhappy enough to quit?"

You sigh, taking another hit. You could feel it setting in now. Your limbs felt lighter, but your head a little heavier. One thing was for sure- this shit was a lot stronger than what you had at 16. "No. I love my job, and I still respect and admire her. I may complain about it a lot, but I still love it."

"You complain about me a lot, though, princess," he laughed, nudging his thigh against yours. "Does that mean you love me?"

"Well, yeah."

Jungkook tenses up at that. "You do?"

If your head wasn't as cloudy as it was now, you wouldn't have opened your trap. You felt uncaring, however, speaking freely as you took another hit. "Yeah, I do. I love you. We've lived together for months, Jungkook. You're one of the people I'm closest to. You mean the world to me."

You lean your head against his shoulder, fluttering your lids as you shut them, concentrating on his breathing. The rise and fall of his shoulders lift your head along with them, and he lets out a chuckle. His fingers comb through your hair, doting. "I love you too."

You take a hit, playfully blowing some of the smoke in his face. "I'll always be your princess, right?"

He smiles again. "Didn't figure you as the affectionate stoner. Usually, you're acting like a brat, y'know."

"What can I say," you hum, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck, planting a small kiss there. "Pot gets my panties wet."

Jungkook freezes underneath you, and you continue, sucking lightly on the skin to leave small pink and red marks, nipping a bit. You put your blunt in a nearby ashtray and find yourself climbing into his lap, his blown-out pupils locked with your own.

You wouldn't be doing this if you were sober. But right now you were releasing every pent up frustration you had- whether it was anger towards your boss or the sexual attraction you felt to Jungkook.

Jungkook's silent, only staring at you, waiting for your next move. You place your hands on his chest, feeling how quickly his heartbeat raced. You wondered for a moment if yours was doing the same.

And then you stopped thinking.

Your hands slid up from his chest and around his neck, tangling into his long locks as you close your eyes and kiss him. He kisses you back after a few seconds reaching behind you to put out his blunt before gripping onto your thighs, tugging you closer to his body.

You two were completely intertwined, wrapped around one another like ivy, a small, intimate moment that felt so grand in the scheme of things.

And then it stopped.

Jungkook pulled back, gripping your arms to push your chest a few inches from his, ending the kiss. "We can't."

"Why not?" You weren't angry, but rather curious. Your voice didn't even show a hint of confusion, instead instantly accepting it. Maybe it was the sober part of you that knew what you two were doing shouldn't be happening.

"I just... We're roommates."

"I don't remember not hooking up being one of the rules."

"It's an unwritten rule not to sleep with your roommate, I think," Jungkook says, his cheeks turning red. It was as though he were admitting he wanted to sleep with you.

"But you flirt with me all the time and act like you want to..."

"Fuck, I do, princess, I do." Jungkook brushed your hair out of your face, looking into your eyes with as much sincerity as he could muster. "But I don't want to be like that asshole you met at 16, or Wonderbread, or any other asshole you met. I don't want you to think I had ulterior motives or I'm trying to take advantage of you in this state. For all you know I'm exactly like the asshole before but with better shit."

"But you're not, Jungkook. You respect me, I know that."

"Just trust me on this, ok? Nothing changes between us." He presses a kiss against your forehead, as though to further confirm it. "I still love you, of course. You're my roommate, after all. It makes living together a lot easier. I just don't want you to wake up and see me as another douche who saw you as nothing more than a status symbol."

Your voice is quiet, like a child who's parents were disappointed in them. "Ok."

"You did nothing wrong, Y/N."

You nod your head. "Mhm."

Jungkook sighs, gripping onto you tightly before standing up, walking you to your room. "C'mon. Let's get you to bed, princess."

Usually, when something was up between you and Jungkook, you'd resolve it quickly.

You guys had been roommates for what felt like forever, now. Of course, you had issues. Of course, you've gotten into arguments. Typically you'd resolve it quickly.

After the encounters with Solji and Taehyung you guys talked about it immediately. Even the smaller things. One time Jungkook accused you of hating a new song he was working on, and you guys argued about it then and there. Another time he had been lazy and forgot to do the dishes, and you had been in a bad mood and lashed out over the small detail. Another time you were just looking to fight for the sake of fighting, and Jungkook called you out on it, resulting in, what do you know, more fighting.

This time, however, was different.

The two of you were barely talking, mainly speaking in grunts and noncommital nods of the head. Neither of you really even used the living room anymore, simply going into the kitchen to make food and eating in isolation in your rooms.

Jungkook still waited for you to get home, though. He wouldn't greet you, however.

You two still kept up with your dishes and cooking, sometimes leaving the food for the other on the countertop.

You started lining up your shoes instead of kicking them to the side, as though to be more mindful.

Both of you hated it, though.

A week without interacting with the person you lived with? Who treated you as a best friend? Agony.

Jungkook was the one who acted on it.

He knocked on your door before opening it. "We need to talk."

Clearly he had just gotten back from hanging out with his bandmates, what with the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead and his locks looking particularly unruly. He hadn't even bothered taking off his leather jacket. You could only guess that he marched directly from the front door to your room. It was such a stark contrast from you, who was only wearing pajama shorts and a tank top.

"Why?" You felt shame and embarrassment, your cheeks burning red. Every time you looked at him you could only think of when he pushed you away. When you had made a fool of yourself and climbed all over him. When you made him uncomfortable and overstepped your boundaries. When you ruined everything.

"You know why." It was clear Jungkook was in a confrontational, no-nonsense mood now, having finally mustered up the courage to face this head-on. "We need to talk about that night."

"We were high-"

"No, it was more than that. Otherwise, we wouldn't be in this... this funk."

You could feel tears springing up in your eyes. "Yeah? So?"

"What do you mean so?"

"I mean so?" You let out an exasperated sigh, still unable to meet his eye. "Who cares?"

"I care!"

"I don't want to have this conversation."

"Well, I do." He kicked the door behind him, crossing his arms. "Why're you acting so weird?"

"What? I'm not the only one acting weird, you know. It's a two-way street," you seethe.

"I've been making attempts! I have," he insisted. "I tried talking to you just yesterday in the kitchen when you were washing dishes. You just ran away to hole yourself up in your room. We need to move past this."

"I'm sorry, ok!" You fume, crying out the words. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Sorry for avoiding me?"

"Yes- No-" You bury your face in your hands. "I'm just... I'm embarrassed, ok? You wouldn't understand."

"You're embarrassed because of that night? Because- what, it's me?" Jungkook tilted his head, as though wanting you to meet his eye. "Any other guy and you wouldn't be acting this way."

"Yes, partially because it's you. You said nothing would change between us but clearly it has," you sighed. "I fucked everything up, Jungkook."

"No, you didn't. I told you that you didn't do anything wrong."

"But I did! You respected me at least, and stopped it from going further because you knew that I wasn't in the right mindset or wasn't capable- I don't know, but the point is that you put in my feelings and thoughts for if I'd be sober and such, especially with that big monologue I had given. But..."

"But what? I don't get it. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you didn't. I'm glad you respected me. But I didn't respect you." You wiped at your eyes, frustrated with yourself. "You were also smoking that night. Yet you thought of me and if I was in the right headspace to consent or think about things, but I didn't think about you. I of all people should've been able to realize that."

"Oh." Jungkook seemed stunned, as though that wasn't the answer he was expecting. "Y/N, it's ok. I've got a lot more resistance than you do, and I'm a lot bigger. I wasn't nearly as affected as you were."

"It still doesn't take away the embarrassment of climbing all over you. I feel stupid," you huffed.

"You're not stupid-" Jungkook stood in front of you and reached out, only to have his hand slapped away.

"Shut up," you hissed. "You're not the one who made a fool of themself."

"Don't lash out at me, princess. You didn't come off as stupid or anything else- you're just overthinking as always."

"As always?!" you mimic. "You're full of it, you know that? God, I hate you sometimes."

You try to push at his chest out of annoyance, but it grabs your hand, keeping it there. "Say that again, I dare you," he growled.

You gulped, able to feel the deep vibrations against the palm of your hand.

You were quiet, whimpering as he towered over you, with you still sitting on the bed and him standing before you. Your eyes lock with his, finally, his hard glare making you cave in on yourself, all of the rage dying within you, leaving something else in its wake. Sensing your submission and the shift in the air, Jungkook only lets out a dark chuckle, leaning in.

You lean back, falling onto the bed as he climbs over you, one leg between your own. You brace yourself, feeling your muscles get tight as he hovers over you, not touching you. You feel the anticipation build as his nose grazes the side of your neck, similarly to how you did that night. His scent overwhelmed you, despite the fact you should've gone nose blind to it after all this time. Still, his cologne and natural scent overpowered you, enveloping you completely.

"You know, I'm getting real tired of your attitude, little girl."

You stiffen at that, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Have you had any alcohol, or smoked anything, or taken anything that might affect your senses?"

"Huh? No?"

"Do you want me to touch you, princess?"

"I..."

"Be a big girl and tell me what you want, baby."

Baby. Princess. Little girl. All names he had called you before, but tonight they hit differently.

"Yes."

"Do you want me?"

"Jungkook..."

"I want to hear you say it, Y/N."

You took in a deep breath. "I want you, Jungkook."

He smirked at that. "That's a good girl."

Before you had time to process anything, he was positioning you where you were lying on your stomach beneath him, with his knees on either side of you as he straddled the backs of your thighs.

"Jungkook-"

He yanked down your shorts, exposing your panties before giving a sharp spank to your ass.

"You know, it's really unfair that I call you so many pet names and don't have a special one of my own," he says, his voice hot in your ear. "Don't you think so, princess?"

You shuddered beneath him. "Yes."

"Yes, what?" Another spank.

You groaned at the sensation, burying your face into the mattress as you muttered the words.

He pulled your hair, lifting your head so you couldn't hide your face. "What was that? I don't think I heard you. What did I say about using your big girl words?" There was a rain of spanks with those last few words. You could feel your ass start to warm up now.

"Yes, Daddy," you said, biting on your lip from the pain of the slaps. The pure irony of the daddy kink being used, no doubt because of your daddy issues. Your revenge against your parents using Jungkook had finally come full circle.

Jungkook grinned, giving you two more slaps, this time as a reward. "Now was that so hard?"

You feel his fingers go down to the wet spot on your panties, now sticking to your folds, evident from your arousal. You shook your head, gripping the sheets. "No, Daddy."

"Mm, I think my princess liked her spanking," Jungkook hummed, twirling the pads of his digits around your clit, watching you squirm beneath him. "Did you like being put in your place for being such a brat?"

"Fffffucckkk." You couldn't think straight, your hips raising from the bed to buck at his hand, needing more friction.

"Such language, princess." He gives a quick swat to your pussy, watching you twitch and yelp in surprise. "I would've thought a little rich girl like you was taught to avoid such language."

Jungkook was generous as always, giving you what you needed as he continued to pet your folds and rub your clit. He seemed to know exactly how to touch you, drawing small circles as he admired how you squirmed and panted into the sheets. You'd wiggle beneath him, your skin still red from his earlier ministrations.

"I-I'm gonna-" You bit into the sheets. You've never cum this fast with anyone before, and over such a small thing. Jungkook was just rubbing you over your panties and you were losing it. You'd never live this down.

"Oh? Gonna cum in your panties like the disgusting little girl you are?" Jungkook let out a dark, sinister chuckle, leaning down so his lips could be felt at the shell of your ear. "Go ahead and cum, dirty girl."

You felt yourself come undone, thighs shaking as you moaned into the sheets, knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping them. Jungkook rubbed you through it, letting you see the orgasm until its end.

You panted as he flipped you onto your back, petting your hair as you came down from your high. He pressed his hand against your cheek, letting you feel the cool metal of his rings against your hot skin. "How're you doing, baby?"

"I-I'm good," you murmur, eyes drooping and fluttering. "Thank you, Daddy." You turn your head to the side, capturing his thumb in your mouth, sucking on it lightly as you twirled your thumb around it, tasting the metal against your buds.

"Fuck," Jungkook groaned. "You're gonna be the death of me."

Slipping his hand away, he pulls your clothes off, one by one, until you were completely bare beneath him. Your panties are the last to go.

"I think you've ruined these," he chuckles, pulling on the waistband of your underwear to let it snap back against you. "Now it's your turn."

You don't bother covering up, comfortable with him and in your own body. Jungkook grins, leaving a trail of kisses down your chest as he descends further down.

He spreads your legs, arriving at his destination. You let your fingers gravitate to his silky hair, tugging to bring him closer to your goal. He chuckles at the action, answering your request as he lets his mouth finally meet your folds, laving his tongue over the area to help you relax.

You gasp at the feeling, arching as he gets quick to work spreading you open with two fingers so he could have easier access to the area. Your thighs twitch as his tongue finally brushes against your clit, and upon noticing how sensitive you still were, he runs his tongue over it, again and again, a smile evident as you let your thighs tense with every movement.

It wasn't until his lips finally suctioned around it that you felt his finger slip into your entrance as well. It was easy, no friction necessary from your copious arousal, and the feeling overwhelmed you. He crooked his finger up as he pumped into you, finding the bundle of nerves with ease as you found it harder and harder to contain your moans. Before long he had to insert another finger, scissoring the digits to stretch you out.

"So fucking tight," he panted, breathless as he continued to place sloppy kisses against you, rubbing your g-spot in an effort to see you squirm. "Gotta stretch you out to take me. You're so small, I'll probably break you."

"I want you to break me," you reply immediately. "Please, please, please, Daddy!"

Jungkook let out a smirk at that. "Seems like that bitchy attitude is finally replaced with manners. Since you asked so nicely..."

His mouth returns to your cunt, french kissing and sucking harshly on your clit has his hand hammers into you, rough and sloppy thrusts helping catapult you towards your high. Before long your eyes were rolling back, hips rising into the air as you feel your high overpower you, and you were cumming against Jungkook's tongue.

He eased his ministrations, slipping his fingers out despite your whine at being empty. He let his tongue run over your folds, soothing them before he came up for air, lips meeting yours with a sloppy kiss. You realized the two of you hadn't kissed at all since this whole ordeal, and you pulled him closer between your legs, pulling him closer as you let your tongues dance together.

He breaks away again, but keeps his forehead against yours, as though to assure you he doesn't intend on ending it just yet. "How're you holding up, baby?"

"Mm good," you hum, still high on bliss. You reached down to his crotch, palming it, pleased to feel the stiffness beneath the material of his pants. "Want Daddy's cock."

"How can I say no to that? You just can't get enough, can you? C'mon then, take me out so I can get inside that dirty cunt."

You do as you're told, finally able to get his cock free as you hook the waistband of both his pants and boxers around his thighs. As you do so he takes off his leather jacket, tossing it to the corner of the room.

He pumps himself, jerking off into his hand as you watch. He was about as big as you expected- then again you always fantasized about Jungkook having a big cock. One by one he was fulfilling all of your fantasies, and creating even more.

He pressed the head of his cock against your pussy, rubbing up and down the slit for lubrication. You ogled his size, wondering how much the stretch of his girth would burn. As though reading your mind, or just the expressions on your face, Jungkook stops. "Are you sure you want me in this messy cunt of yours, baby?" he questions. "We can wait. I can eat you out some more if you want."

"No, I need you inside me," you immediately respond.

He can't help but grin at that, cooing at you with a condescending, sickly sweet voice. "No please? So demanding. Spoiled little princess, used to getting what she wants." He pushes inside of you inch by inch, and you hiss at the stretch, loving the slight burn.

When he bottoms out inside of you your foreheads are pressed together, hot and sweaty, but oddly intimate. A single tear runs down your cheek, and he reaches up to wipe it away, cradling your cheek.

"Look at me, Y/N."

You do so, eyes locking with his. "I'm ok," you confirm before he can ask. You were able to read his expressions as easily as he could read yours. "Move, please."

He nods, doing so, starting a slow rhythmic pace as he pumps into you. You groan at the feeling. You couldn't remember the last time you had been intimate with someone, especially someone who fills you up so completely, unable to even avoid the sensitive parts within you.

Soon Jungkook was picking up the pace, the thrusts becoming harder and quicker, more precise as he lifted himself up onto his arms to look at you, admiring how your eyes would roll back every now and then. He reached between you two, spreading your lips apart with two fingers to properly look at how well you were taking him.

"Fuck, you're just sucking me in baby," he hissed, doing his best to compose himself. "This pussy was made for me, wasn't it? No one else."

You moaned at that, biting your lip. "D-Daddy..."

"That's right- Daddy. This pussy was made for Daddy, all for him," Jungkook went on, now beginning to rub your clit with your thumb, feeling you clenching down on him with his words."Remember that. Who am I again?"

"My Daddy."

"That's right. Yours. Who's the only person who can fuck you this way?"

"You. Fuck, Daddy, I'm gonna cum. Let me cum for you?"

"Good girl. And who are you going to cum for?"

"You Da-Daddy- ffffffuck-"

"That's right, cum for me. Give me one more, I know you can. Be a good little girl and cream on my cock. Get me as nice and messy as your dirty little cunt."

Your eyes rolled back as your third orgasm shook through you, more powerful than the first two. Droplets of cum sprayed out, getting all over both you and Jungkook. You moaned, shaking as Jungkook groaned in satisfaction.

"Fuck, you just squirted everywhere," Jungkook said, his thrusts getting sloppy. "You're so perfect."

"Cum in me, Daddy. Use me," you asked, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "Use my body."

"Shit, shit, shit-" Jungkook grabbed your wrists, roughly pinning them to either side of you as he thrust into you like a mad man, using your body to jerk off before finally, he was erupting inside of you, filling you to the brim as he bottomed out inside of you. He panted, hands squeezing your little wrists like a vice. You were positive there would be bruises by the morning.

Soon he collapsed on top of you, sweaty and out of breath. He rolled over, chest heaving as he stared at you, grabbing you and tugging you close so he could bury his face in the juncture of your neck, acting as the big spoon as you two cuddled.

You slowly regained your breath, reaching back to comb through his hair.

"Just stay like this for a minute," he said, eyes closed and voice soft, a stark contrast to his dominating demeanor before. "Let me just hold you for a few minutes and then we can go take a bath, ok? I'll take care of you."

You let him do exactly that.

The morning after didn't feel as awkward as you had expected, Instead of the uncomfortable air that had been left after the two of you made out, it was oddly comfortable. Not the kind of comfortable that was there before, with you two bickering and joking with each other, but rather a far more affectionate one.

The two of you had been waiting for months to be able to touch each other how you wanted, and now you had the opportunity. You weren't able to keep your hands off of Jungkook, and not even in a sexual way. You'd let your hands roam freely over his body, whether it was combing through his fluffy hair or feeling the broad expanse of his chest, and the hard muscles beneath his band tees.

Jungkook wasn't much better. You'd be doing as simple as making yourself a bowl of ramen and he'd press up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your hair, breathing in your scent. It was like nothing was between you anymore, and it felt so right. Jungkook was your best friend, your roommate. The man you had lusted and pined after for what felt like forever. He just got you.

Or that's what you thought at least.

The two of you were watching a movie again, as always, but instead of the casual arm draped around your shoulders you two were completely intertwined, ignoring the movie as you two shared small, slow kisses. You let yourself melt in the moment, the taste of him addictive.

He gives you that look that you love, the one where his gaze is deceptively soft and solely focused on you.

"You know," he says between pecks, "I meant what I said before."

"Meant what?" you smile.

"That I love you." He pushes a lock of hair behind your ear, staring at you. "I think I've been in love with you since my father's little party."

You stiffened.

In love?

That was very different from the love you had interpreted.

You plaster on a fake smile, hoping he didn't notice how you had tensed up. "Is that so?"

"Mhm," he hums, pressing a small kiss on the tip of your nose. "Did you mean it when you said you loved me?"

"I did," you tell him, burying your face into his chest to avoid looking at him, focusing on the vibrations of his chest as he hummed with delight, wrapping his arms tighter around you as he pressed his lips against the top of your head.

That night you slept in his bed, his arm wrapped tightly around your middle. You didn't get a wink of sleep that night, and the moment he rolled over to his side, you knew what to do.

When Jungkook woke up, you were gone.

You had seemingly left no traces. Your bed was neatly made, your dresser drawers were empty. It was like you didn't exist.

Jungkook was absolutely distraught. He had the shop closed down for a bit, instead choosing to lay around in the apartment you once shared, playing the same few chords on his guitar.

He was angry. He was sad. He was pissed and frustrated and miserable and confused. He felt so stupid for fucking everything up. He wondered if what you said was a lie. Was everything between you a lie? It had to be. How else could you just cast him to the side like that? Like he meant nothing to you?

In the end, it seemed you truly were just using him. He should've known any affections you had for him were just some phase. You were just indirectly lashing out at your parents and using what you knew would piss them off. He knew that since the beginning, and still let himself get fooled.

That didn't stop him from sulking, however.

It wasn't until Yoongi barged into his apartment that Jungkook was forced to do something.

"What the hell man? You've been skipping out on practices- where have you been?" Yoongi looked around, seeing the apartment a mess. Jungkook didn't look much better, sitting upside down on his couch in sweats and greasy hair, strumming on his guitar. "Jesus Christ, dude. I got you were a mess from the lyrics you've been sending me, but this takes the cake."

"What do you want, Yoongs?"

"I want you to pick your ass up and get out of this funk! I've noticed you haven't been running your shop for a little bit, and it seems clear to me that you've just been sulking around. Where's that roommate of yours? I would've thought she'd tell you to get over whatever it is you're sobbing about and do something about it."

"I don't want to talk about her," Jungkook muttered, striking a chord that had many of the notes clashing.

Yoongi winced at the sound. "I always thought that you two weren't just roommates. She always looked at you how a puppy looks at their owner- and you weren't much better."

"Well, she's gone now," Jungkook said bitterly.

"What happened?"

"She didn't love me, simple as that."

Yoongi shook his head. "That's a lie, dude. That girl was crazy about you."

"Well, that's what happened. I told her I was in love with her and the next thing I know, I wake up and she's gone."

"Maybe it was something else," Yoongi shrugged. "Then again, you knew her better than me. But you can't let some girl keep you cooped up in your apartment. Sulking isn't going to bring her back. Obsidian Chaos is going to be releasing the next album in just a month- you need to have your shit together by then. Don't tell me that you want to quit the band."

"No," Jungkook sighed. "It's just... I miss her. And I feel confused and-"

"You feel about a million emotions, my man, I know. And none of them are exactly helping to motivate you," Yoongi finished. "Do you really want her to see you in this state, though, when she comes back? If she comes back?"

"No," he admitted.

"You can't expect her to come and save you. You've got to save yourself first. She was never responsible for your happiness- remember that. Pick yourself back up and who knows, maybe she'll be waiting for you."

Jungkook did pick himself back up after that. He took a shower and opened the shop, going day by day, and though he still felt heartache and longing for you, he was able to pull himself together a bit more with each passing moment.

Obsidian Chaos released their next album, Oblivion, shortly after. Jungkook wrote most of the lyrics, and every single one was about you. Maybe it was like a siren call, trying to call you back to him. Luckily for them one of the title tracks blew up on a few websites and apps, giving them a lot of coverage and publicity. Their popularity had blown up overnight, radios constantly playing the hit song, making it impossible to escape their sound.

It was a rainy day, about a week after the release of Oblivion when there was a knock at the door. Jungkook thought it was a bit too early for him to have stalkers, but he was precautious, looking through the peephole.

To his surprise, it was you. Your hair was soaking wet, your designer clothes sticking to your skin. Your makeup seemed to be running a little.

Jungkook immediately swung the door open, shocked. You were here. You were really here.

"Hi," you said, your voice meek and small. "Can I come in?"

Jungkook stepped aside to let you in, closing the door behind him. He was speechless. There were so many things he had wanted to say to you, weeks of planning some long monologue for nothing. It felt strange seeing you in his apartment, despite the fact you had been there countless times before and lived there yourself. You seemed foreign, out of place, even though it hadn't been that long.

"Congrats on your success, by the way," you said, filling the silence. "Oblivion seems to be a big hit."

"You heard it?"

"I stayed up all night waiting for the release. Besides, your song plays everywhere I go. People love it. I couldn't escape your voice even if I wanted to."

"The song was about you."

"Yeah... I know." You wiped your wet face, taking in a deep breath.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" Jungkook finally asked.

Your breathing was shaky. "I came to apologize. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness but... It was wrong for me to flake out like that, to leave without explanation."

"Why did you?"

You seemed unable to look him in the eye. "Every time a guy told me he loved me, that he was in love with me, it turned out to just be to use me. It was a way to get on my good side and use me for... Well, ulterior motives. When you said you loved me, I had spent so much time convincing myself that you didn't see me that way that I assumed you only meant platonically. Even if I wanted it to be in a romantic sense. When you confirmed, though, that you were in love with me, it just sparked so many memories of guys before. I was stupid. You've proven time and time again that you're honest and genuine, and that you respect me in a way those boys never could, but I couldn't handle it. I needed time away to figure my shit out. So I left and went to my parents', and I told them everything. The fake dating, the roommate situation, the job, that you were in love with me- all of it.

"My parents have been wrong about a lot of things. About what I should be, about what kind of guy would make a suitable husband, but they were right about one thing." Your eyes finally locked with his. "I was stupid to let you go, especially when I'm as head over heels over you as you are for me."

"So..." Jungkook didn't know what to say, overwhelmed with your speech. "What does this mean?"

"It means I love you too, Jungkook. I'm in love with you. I meant it when I said it back then, the same way you meant it. I took a taxi and ran over here as soon as I realized that. I've been in love with you for God knows how long, and I want to be with you, for real this time. That is... if you'll take me back."

Jungkook couldn't help but melt at that, smiling as he pulled you into a tight embrace, despite how your wet form began to dampen his clothes. "Always, princess."

#jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts #bangtan #jungkook #jeongguk #bts jeongguk #jeongguk smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #jeon jeongguk #smut #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #jeongguk fanfiction #jeongguk scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfiction

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inkandpen22 · 3 years ago

Text

Permanent Chaos (4/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of underage drinking

Part Summary: Sam hosts a party and Y/N makes a not-so-great acquaintance of a certain rock star.

Masterlist

Sam’s house is filled with people. I know the majority of the partiers, the rest I can recognize from whatever field of entertainment they’re in. The music is blasting over the speakers and the voices fill the remaining space.

I search around for him. I manage to find him in the family room on the couch. He’s chatting with a group of people, including Penelope. I make my way over, shuffling between bodies. When I appear out from within the crowd, Sam gleams.

“You made it!”

“I did!” I giggle.

We hug and he introduces me to the girl beside him. “Y/N, this is Cara.”

As if I don't know who Cara Delevigne is, I may be busy but I don't live on Mars. I smile at her kindly. “Nice to meet you!”

“You too! I’m a huge fan of your work on TSL!” She gushes, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

The Seasons of Life is often shortened to TSL, just a side note.

Cara’s accent is so pretty! She’s already a model then she has to have a British accent as if she wasn’t perfect enough!

“Aw, thank you so much!”

Sam slips by me. “I’m going to go get us a drink!”

"Oh wait, Sam!"

“I know what to do!” He shouts back without stopping. I should know better. With how much time we spend together, he would know my order.

“That kid,” I sigh to Penelope and Cara.

The two giggle and we go on to talk about this and that. Fun enough, Cara leaves for Paris tomorrow for a fashion show. Must be exciting to travel so often and to wear the most amazing clothes. She’s quite funny. Her personality is so vibrant and warm. I can see us being good friends.

A loud voice echoes through the house and the three of us look toward the archway to see who it’s coming from. Bodies block the view so I turn my attention back to the girls. Penelope and I discuss the photoshoot in two days and Cara talks about her experiences with Vanity Fair.

“Hey, Cara!” A voice greets behind me.

I don't turn around, but I can feel their energy hovering over me. They shuffle to stand right beside me. I glance up, but can't recognize them.

Cara stands up to hug them. “Good to see you! How are you?” She keeps him in an embrace.

“Great, great!” The guy, who’s back is to me for some reason seems familiar. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“You know Sam?” She questions as they part.

“Not really, I came with a few friends.”

I look over at Penelope for a hint as to who it could be. She shrugs and watches the two interact.

“Speaking of, have you seen him? I should say hi.” The man asks.

“He went to the kitchen to get a drink for him and Y/N.”

The man turns around and he peers down at me on the couch. I should’ve guessed it… MGK. The hair and a million tattoos should've been a dead giveaway. That bright blonde mess of a hairstyle.

“Colson, this is Y/N Voss,” Cara introduces us.

He glances down at me with a smile. “We’ve met actually,” he claims.

My head tilts, I can’t recall when we've met properly.

“Today after I performed on James’s show,” he describes, towering over me.

“Oh! Awesome!” Cara sits back down next to me.

All I can do is stare at Colson in confusion. “If you count glancing at one another from across the room once as meeting,” I reply a bit snarky.

He gives me a toothy grin and eases down onto the cushion ottoman right across from me. “It was more than one glance,” he argues.

“You would know, you’re the one that never looked away," I fire back.

Cara and Penelope exchange a glance, snicker, then leave the scene together. They offer their goodbye before giggling away. They're smart.

Colson seems to have not noticed or at least doesn’t care. He moves to take Cara's spot on the cushion next to me. “You would’ve had to been looking to have noticed that I never looked away.”

My head rolls back, with a mocking laugh. “Well aren’t you a genius!”

He rests his arm on the back of the couch behind me. “I like to think so.”

“One vodka tonic.” Sam interrupts, holding out my drink.

I take it bitterly. "Thanks."

“Sam huh?” Colson stands up and the two shake hands. “I’m Colson, nice to officially meet you, man!”

Sam treats him like an old friend which annoys the heck out of me. Colson so far has only shown his arrogance to me. “You too! Great seeing you today at the show. Your performance was amazing.”

“Thanks, your interview was hilarious!” Colson fakes charming better than some actors.

“You watched?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I stuck around just off-camera. You two are great!”

Watching these two talk each other up is a bromance waiting to happen.

Sam gestures to me with his glass. “Y/N here is the real comedian. There’s never a dull moment with her."

“I'm sure.” Colson peers down at me with a bright smile. "We’ve only just met and she’s already sparked a debate with me.”

I narrow my eyes at Colson, what’s he trying to start?

Sam settles down on the ottoman where Colson was. “What about?” He is all for the conversation and is jumping headfirst into the tiff between us.

Colson smiles but I see the mischief in his eyes.

“It wasn’t a debate” I rise to my feet in front of the boys. “If you would excuse.” I step away from the couch a little irked.

“Oh come on now Baby, I’m only joking,” Colson calls not bothered.

“Oh no,” Sam laughs behind me. “Best not call her that or any pet names for that matter. She hates them!”

I don’t even acknowledge them on my walk out of the room. Cocky, annoying, ugh! It’s been maybe five minutes and he’s already managed to irritate me. Maybe all the things they write in the tabloids about him are true. A spoiled, arrogant, womanizing jerk. A piece of the worst parts of the industry. I'm going to go find the girls and stay far away from Colson Baker.

________________________________________

On the set of the Vanity Fair shoot, the atmosphere is lively and carefree. The theme is an 80’s vintage style and since it’s coming back the magazine is mixing old with the new. Sam and I are in an old-fashioned record store and it’s wicked! The walls are teal and remind me of an old Taco Bell. There are rows and rows of just vinyl records. My hair is teased in an 80’s rock band kind of hairstyle. 80s music has been playing on set all morning to set the mood. I'm living for it!

A lady approaches me with a huge light wash denim jacket.

“No way! I get to wear this!” I gush.

She helps me put it on and I’m dying from how awesome this shoot is.

I immediately go to Sam's trailer. “Sam! I’m rocking the denim on denim look!” I show off my high-waisted light wash denim shorts with a black bulky leather belt around my waist.

He laughs. “I appreciate the denim on denim but I have to say my favorite part is the old Bon Jovi T.”

The photographer, Adam, comes up with this brilliant idea for me to stand on the crates of records. Where the two rows in the middle of the store meet, there’s enough room for me to stand. Once I’m up there and I can find the balance in these red heels, they have Sam join me.

“Sam, grab her leg and look up at her as though you’re keeping an eye on her,” Adam instructs.

The camera flashes and between snaps, I change my facial features.

“Good! Good! Let’s get some shots from the counter!”

Sam helps me down from the crates and I hop down. We get a shot of me laying across the counter with a red sucker in my hand and Sam hovering over me. This shoot is incredibly fun and I can’t wait to see the finished product.

Sam and I change outfits and Adam asks if he can get a video for the website and YouTube channel. Of course, we said yes. It’ll be a montage of an interview of us individually and then of us just messing around throughout the store with 80’s music playing in the background. Adam has me sit on an 80’s style floral couch they set up in front of a backdrop in the back room. The whole setup is very comfortable and intimate. Only us, a few lights and a camera with the radio playing. Sam is in makeup and dress for the part of the video of us being candid.

“You can sit however you like!” Adam instructs, meaning I’m sitting too formal with my posture straight and legs crossed. “Act like we’re just hanging out or something.”

I adjust myself and crisscross my legs, slouching a bit.

“Much better!” he compliments, staring down at the camera. He hits up on a stool and positions his camera on the stand. “What’s it like to be on the cover of Vanity Fair?”

“The whole experience is unreal! I remember having a subscription to Teen Vogue growing up. My friends and I loved them!”

“Would you describe your style as modern or classic?”

“Classic for sure!” I gush.

Adam snickers. “What’s your favorite decade for fashion?”

I laugh and gesture down at my outfit. “The 80’s.”

“Does anyone from the 80’s inspire your style in particular?”

I tap the tips of my fingers together and hum. “That’s a toughy! I guess I would have to say Demi Moore for the hair. Specifically, her haircut from About Last Night… that’s where I got the style for my hair actually. Another big one would be Cindy Crawford, such a fashion icon!” I could talk about fashion all day and the icons idolize.

“Heels or sneakers?”

“Depends on the occasion. Sneakers for everyday things, I could never live without my trusty Converse. Yet, I would wear heels if I’m dressing it up a bit.”

"Are you more of a girly-girl or tomboy?”

“People who know me well would say I’m a girly-girl but I also don’t mind downplaying it from time to time. I’ve gotten better lately at relaxing and no being so “on” all the time.”

“Hair up or down?”

“Half up, half down,” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully looking into the camera.

Adam chuckles behind the camera. He changes topics. “You’re from South Carolina originally...”

My heart sinks a little at the mention of home, but I hide behind a smile. “That I am.”

“You haven’t been back in almost a year, do you miss it?”

I play with the ends of my hair, examining my lap. Avoiding the camera lens. I look at anywhere but there. “If I were to miss anything about South Carolina, it would be the gorgeous landscape and southern food."

“You have three siblings, correct?” Adam asks next.

“I do, an older brother and sister, then a younger brother.” I list.

“What do they think about the show and your career?”

I nod. “They support me but the distance is hard. As you said, we haven’t all been together in almost a year.”

“Do you have any plans to go visit home soon?”

I sigh, “sadly no, my work keeps me quite busy.”

The interview goes on and we discuss how my style has evolved since I was a teen starting out in the business. I’ll admit, the topics about home and family sucked. Work and personal life are two separate jobs, my worlds can’t collide. I never bring South Carolina into it.

______________________________________________

After the shoot, I received a call from Cara when we were finishing up the photoshoot. Last night, Cara, Penelope, and I had a blast! I completely forgot about the whole tiff with Colson once I reached them in the kitchen. Since then, we’ve been three peas in a pod. While we were talking on the phone, she invited Sam and me to dinner at The Ivy.

“A small gathering of friends,” she told me and asked for us to be there by seven.

Jump ahead to now and Sam is parallel parking the car. I hop out and wait on the sidewalk for Sam to walk around. Our hands' interlock and the paparazzi take notice of us when people on the sidewalk pull out their phones.

“Y/N! SAM! SAM! OVER HERE!”

“HOW’S FILMING GOING?”

“It’s good to be back on set!” I cover my eyes with my clutch.

“YOUR INTERVIEW WITH JAMES CORDEN WAS GREAT!”

“SOCIAL BLEW UP AFTER THE INTERVIEW!”

Sam asks for the guys to make a path so we can get through without issues. He releases my hand and presses his palm to my lower back protectively.

“WE’VE ALREADY SEEN Cara AND PENELOPE GO IN!”

“A FEW PEOPLE ACTUALLY!”

“ARE YOU ALL MEETING UP?”

“Maybe, maybe not!” I look into one of the video cameras and wink.

The guy behind it gets a hoot out of my expression.

Sam and I reach the restaurant and the men let us go in unbothered.

“WE’LL LEAVE YOU ALONE TO YOUR DINNER!”

“Thanks guys, see you later!” I wave to them and their cameras shoot rapidly.

The noise dies down when we go back further into the restaurant. Sam spots Cara in the back and guides me back there. Tables are lined up in a long row and the majority of the seats are filled.

Cara, cool as a cucumber pulls me into a hug. “Hey Y/N! So glad you two could come!” She sits Sam and me across from each other near the middle. She insisted that I sit by her so we could chat. We get to talking about the Vanity Fair shoot today then she’s pulled away when another guest arrives.

The waitress comes up behind me and requests my drink order.

“I’ll have a sweet tea please.”

“We only serve unsweetened.”

I hate it when they say that. “That’s fine, thank you!” Sam eyes me and I pout about having no sweet tea.

“You realize there’s sugar right here.” He slides me the packets of sugar.

“Yes but it’s not the same. There’s sweet tea at every restaurant where I’m from and I come here boom! Sweet tea is nonexistent!”

"What’s the drink that’s carbonated?” He’s asking to be annoying because the west coast and the midwest disagree on the name.

“Pop!” I glare at him.

“That’s right! Pop! Sounds like you’re saying pot every time.” He laughs at his own joke, finding himself humorous.

“It’s soda by the way," he corrects.

“Uh uh,” I refuse to change my ways, “it’s pop.”

The empty chair next to me slides back and when I glance up to see who’s doing it, an instant headache hits my brain.

Sam greets Colson warmly with a handshake. I shoot Sam another glare. He’s acting neutral but that shouldn’t be a choice in this case. He was my friend first!

Colson removes black Ray-Bans from his face and positions them on top of his head.

“Hello Y/N.” Colson sends me one of his charming grins so many teen girls swoon over.

“Hi,” I reply, not attempting to hide my disinterest. I curve my body away from him and towards Cara, legitly giving him the cold shoulder.

The dinner goes on without a hitch surprisingly, considering the circumstances. Penelope leans down over the back of my chair to say our goodbyes.

I turn around in my chair to face her. “See ya tomorrow.”

“See ya,” she rubs her hand up and down my arm.

She and I exchange kisses on the cheek. “Love you!” We say in unison as we part.

“Later Sam!” She wiggles her fingers at him in a wave.

Sam and I stick around a while longer since Cara and I have gotten into a deep conversation about our shared love for vintage things. A conversation about our collections of records alone went on for twenty minutes. I hadn't noticed that it was just four of us now. Sam and Colson have been talking most of the dinner.

A pair of hands rest on my shoulders and steal my attention away from Cara. “Y/N, you ready to go?” Sam asks.

“We’ll head out too!” Cara announces with her sights directed behind me.

I look over my shoulder and Colson is standing beside Sam. The four of us walking out together… how convenient.

I grab my clutch, sticking close to Sam to dodge Colson.

The four of us walk toward the front of the restaurant and right when we reach the steps leading outside, Cara announces that she forgot her purse.

“I’ll be right back!” She urges us to go on without her.

The cameras waited for us as I assumed they would. They’re capturing every minute of us waiting for Cara.

I place my hand on Sam’s shoulder, “would you go help her?”

“You sure?” His eyes flicker between me and Colson.

“I’ll be fine,” I assure him and he promises he’ll only be a second.

“Go to the car so you aren’t bothered,” he refers to the paparazzi.

“I’ll walk her,” Colson offers.

Sam gives him the go-ahead as he goes off to help in the search for the purse.

I’m left with the one guy I was avoiding. I grip the keys in my hand and walk down the brick steps to the sidewalk. I hear Colson behind me and stop to address him. “I can walk myself to the car.”

He raises his arms mocking a surrender. “I don’t doubt your ability to walk, just helping out.”

“I don’t need your help,” I scoff, starting to walk again.

“I never said you did,” Colson sassily replies.

*Click* *Click* *Click*

A man runs around me to get a photo of me straight on.

“Y/N! Y/N! WALKING IN WITH SAM AND LEAVING WITH MGK, ANY EXPLANATION?”

I pause for a moment, making eye contact with the man behind the camera. Is he honestly trying to start drama? What lies are he going to sell? I’m only going to the car because Sam requested. The only reason Colson is even near me is that he’s so freaking persistent.

I push back the aggravation and force my lips into a kind smile. I can’t have a single moment of weakness. I can’t give in to my emotions like others. “Sam is helping Cara with something inside. Colson was kind enough to walk me to the car.”

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU GUYS KNOWN EACH OTHER?”

I purposefully answer quickly so Colson doesn’t even have the chance to think of a response. “Not long, we met the other day backstage at The Late Late Show. We have a lot of the same friends and had no idea!” I peek over at Colson and he gives me a knowing look. I dismiss it and go on with my charade. I will not let this jerk mess with my career.

“ANY CHANCE OF HAVING COLSON GUEST STAR ON THE SHOW?”

“That would be great!” I lie my butt off, “having more friends on set would be fun!”

“COLSON, HOW’S YOUR NEW ALBUM COMING ALONG?!”

“We’re in the recording stage right now. Should be released sometime this summer," he answers.

“FOLLOWING UP WITH A TOUR?”

“Of course!” he chuckles.

I unlock the car and move around the guys to reach the door.

“WE’LL LET YOU GUYS GO ON. ENJOY THE REST OF YOUR NIGHT!” One of them departs.

“Thank you! You too!” I wave goodbye.

Some stick behind to get a few last pictures but for the most part, they all disburse. The ones remaining, however, keep their distance.

I yank on the handle of the door and Colson holds it for me. As if he's a gentleman. I begin to climb in, prepared to yank it shut in his face.

“Friends huh?” Colson chuckles.

I turn around abruptly and check around the general area of the sidewalk for any cameras. Seems the remainder of the guys have left. I shut the door and Colson removes his hand in a rush.

“No, not friends! I only said that to please the public," I huff.

“Ouch!” he acts offended, placing his hand on his heart. “I did find it interesting that you claimed we met backstage the other day so I was right!” He chuckles, believing he caught me.

“No, no, no, no!" I shut that thought down quickly. "The only reason I made that up was that it’s not good for my image if I admit I was at a party. People tend to assume that heavy drinking and drugs occur at parties. I can’t be associate with that scene!”

“Oh, so it’s alright to lie?” He crosses his arms and snickers, glancing down the street toward the restaurant.

I roll my eyes, of course, he doesn’t understand, why would he? “You don’t get it” I scoff, dismissing him. I turn and reach for the car handle again.

“So what if you were at a party? People drink, if some have a problem with that, that’s their problem. Oh! I forgot! You're America's Sweetheart! The perfect angel princess with a spotless record,” he mocks.

I slam the car door shut, having hit my limit. I keep my voice hush. “It’s not that simple! I'm not like you! I can't be caught partying! If the country, the world, sees the truth then my image is ruined! I've been doing this since I was a teenager! I worked way too hard for far too long to lose everything over a stupid mistake!”

Colson’s face falters from his usual carefree expression to one of seriousness.

“Found it! Let’s go!” Sam announces loudly to the whole block.

I toss him the keys and glance back to Colson who stands there in a stillness I have yet to see from me. His stare makes me want to hide. I feel as though I’m under a microscope being studied.

“Toodaloo Y/N! ‘Till next time my pals!” Cara strolls down the sidewalk.

It’s evident she’s had a couple of drinks. She sways further down the sidewalk and comes to a stop once she notices Colson isn’t following.

“Later Cara!” Sam shouts over the top of the car behind me.

Colson and I stare at each other I’m guessing for different reasons. He appears lost in thought and I’m desperately trying to figure out why. If I look away, I fear he’ll break to pieces or something.

Cara pauses. “Colson? You coming?”

He holds out for a moment but finally breaks eye contact with me. "Yeah."

When I’m no longer staring into those black works of art I regain my ability to move. I hurry into the car and Sam says his goodbyes again over the top of the car. I buckle my seatbelt when he climbs in. Watching strangers walk up and down the sidewalk, I’m perfectly aware of Sam starring me down.

He pulls onto the street. “Are we gonna talk about it or are we doing silence?”

I reach over and turn up the radio.

“Of course you make your own option.” Sam watches me, waiting for some sort of explanation.

We come in at the end of a song and the next one is oh too recognizable. The classic rock sound that is a part of all of Colson’s music plays through the car speakers. His vocals enter the soundwave and I groan loudly over the music before turning off the radio.

"No music then!" I snap.

__________________________________

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