#it would be like if one direction made a movie where they bought the main female character from her mother

[britneyshakespeare]

stanned kpop too late to witness the rise of the golden age

stanned kpop too early to have any chance of seeing my faves do an american tour

stanned kpop just in time to watch exo next door (2015)

[rainidaz3]

The Cruel Reality Of The Buddies Movies

I never thought I’d have to make an info post on something like this, but y’know.

Before I even start writing, TW for racism and animal death.

Alright, let’s start with some general information on the Buddies movies. They’re a spin-off movie series of a series called Air Bud, basically sports and dogs in one show. From what I’ve seen of it, it’s basketball specifically.

I will call the main character of that show Air Bud. Air Bud’s children, Rosebud, B-Dog, Butterball, Buddha, and Mudbud, are the main characters of the Buddies movies.

B-dog right off the bat is one of the reasons I have to put the racism TW.

Rosebud’s entire personality is being a girl, Mudbud likes getting dirty, Butterball likes eating and farting (yes. Farting.), Buddha is Buddhist, and B-Dog is a rapper dog.

I personally liked Mudbud the most, even though Rosebud was made to cater to little girls and she was obviously made to be some sort of leader for them.

Now to get into this whole thing.

I’m not discussing the plot of Snow Buddies beyond someone dismissing a husky’s parents’ deaths, I’ll be discussing the genuinely shitty things that happened on the set.

This is where the animal death starts.

Originally, they bought 30 puppies. Most of this movie takes place in a made-up Alaskan town with a very Native American-sounding name (as if it were made to make fun of them), and it was shot in British Columbia.

Now, they bought 30 because sometimes they would fall asleep on set, need to go take a shit, etc., just puppy things!

Most of them, however, caught parasitic diseases, most diagnosed with Parvo, and died. So the team ordered 28 more puppies, exposing them to these diseases as well.

How they handled this was absolutely disgusting.

Now I must admit, the soundtrack fucking slaps, but still.

Oh and B-Dog is just a racist stereotype, by the way, thought I’d bring that up.

In this same movie, the main villain is a racist French guy. He made fun of an Asian person ONCE during the entire runtime, but that’s still not okay.

Oh yeah and the puppies were all only 6 weeks old. SIX. WEEKS. OLD. Which is in direct violation of The Animal Welfare act, which states that puppies should be at least 8 weeks old before being put in any movies. This is why they got diseases like Parvo.

This is also the only Buddies movie that doesn’t have a “no animals were harmed in the making of this movie” line. Instead, they have this.

I’m not even going to get into anything else, if you want to know more about this, please do your own research.

[gillie266]

Yeein' On That 'Haw Ch. 0-- My Own Personal Dialup

I have to admit, out of all of the places to break into, a museum of vintage technology was possibly the most lame. 

It was late– late enough for the streetlights to be on. I always thought they were ugly. Their yellow hue made the attracted gnats and moths that much more visible, and it cast a gross light onto everything nearby. 

But at the moment, I couldn’t have been more grateful for those ugly lights. If it weren’t for them, I would have had to use a flashlight to disarm the security cameras of this museum. And my partner-in-crime was already becoming antsy and impatient. 

“Seriously, (Y/N)?” The dark-haired girl whined in a hushed tone. “It can’t be that hard to cut a couple wires.” She was bouncing in place, deep brown eyes flitting about the space for movement.

I turned to the younger, taller woman and narrowed my eyes. “Like you’ve ever done this before.” She pointed at the console I was messing with, her voice coming out a bit louder. “Well, if you’re gonna disarm the thing, then get it done already!”

A frustrated sigh left my cold, chapped lips as I turned back to the console. It was a little box attached to a power line pole, and it powered the immediate area. If I could just figure out which button to push, and which wire to cut, the entire museum’s power system would go down, and we could get in and out without a problem. 

“Got it!” I exclaimed, causing the other girl to hurriedly shush me. I shrugged apologetically. There was a brief crackling noise, followed by the sound of several switches flipping inside of the box. The next thing we knew, we were plunged into darkness as all of the streetlights, as well as the few remaining lights left on in the museum, flipped off. 

I stood from my knelt position and squinted, glancing around for any movement. There was nothing aside from my fellow soon-to-be criminal’s anxious shifting. 

“Okay. Let’s get this done and over with.” I whispered, nudging the girl. I could hardly see her, but she nodded hurriedly anyway. We glanced at either side of the empty street before darting across, our dark hoods obscuring us from any curious residents of the nearby apartments from peeking out their windows and seeing us. 

“Violet,” I hissed, grabbing at her shoulder once we had successfully crossed the street. “You scout the perimeter. I’ll get the ladder.” 

Violet only nodded, swallowing her anxiety before rushing to my right. I moved to the left and into an open alley, flipping the lid of a mostly empty dumpster open so I could grab the folded ladder we planted inside. I used what little strength I had to drag it out of the dumpster and onto the ground, where I then pulled it back to the front of the building. 

Just as I was finishing up my business, Violet jogged back around the corner, giving me a thumbs-up. “Help me out with this,” I whispered in her direction. She sped over to help me lift the ladder, propping it up against the museum wall and unfolding it so it reached the second floor. If we were going to have any luck pulling this off, we couldn’t go in through the main entrance. It was padlocked– and if there was one thing I learned from heist movies, it was that breaking a padlock was a surefire way to get found out and arrested. We were going to pry open and jump through a second-story window. I gestured to the ladder with a gloved hand. “After you.” 

My partner-in-crime made a mildly grossed-out face before taking a breath and beginning to climb the ladder. The sound of her heavy boots making contact with the rungs of the ladder made me wince. I really hoped that nobody could hear us. 

She reached the top and slung her legs over one of the rungs, effectively seating herself in a position where she could use her hands. She pulled her backpack off of her shoulders and reached inside, quickly retrieving a crowbar that we had bought from the Home Depot specifically for this. I hate to give Home Depot credit, but they have some nice chandeliers. And crowbars. 

Violet positioned the end of the crowbar at the base of the window to pry it open. Then she paused. She made a panicked, helpless gesture with her free hand before looking down at me on the ground. “It’s caulked shut!” She whisper-yelled. 

“It’s what shut?” I snickered. 

She frowned. I could see her displeased expression, even in this darkness. “I said, it’s caulked shut! Think brick and mortar. There’s no way I can get this open!” 

I placed my hands on my hips, beginning to panic myself. “...Can you try?”

“...Fine,” Violet huffed. She replaced the crowbar where it was before and pressed down on the opposite end, trying to get the caulk to break apart so she could pry open the window. She gave a frustrated grunt of effort, though it didn’t seem that she was making any progress. 

Then, in a moment of weakness, she gritted her teeth and reeled back, swinging the crowbar over her shoulder before slamming it into the glass of the window. It shattered after only one attack, sending glass shards flying into the building and out of the window frame. I watched, slack-jawed, as Violet covered her face with her forearm just in case any stray glass shards came in her direction. 

A moment of silence passed with Violet still seated atop the ladder and my body frozen in place. 

“...I hope nobody heard that,” I mumbled under my breath. Violet anxiously bit the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, me too. C’mon, get up here.”

I only hesitated for one more moment before beginning to climb the ladder. Violet slung her legs back over the rung and pulled herself through the broken window, myself doing the same. 

The museum was… nothing short of boring. It was just a bunch of vintage tech displayed. Typewriters, gramophones, rotary phones, radios… and not a single one in a case. That was why we decided to rob a vintage technology museum in the first place– none of it was in a case, and if it were in good enough condition, it would sell for a pretty penny at a pawn shop or antique store. 

I heard Violet huff before reaching into her backpack and pulling out a folded-up duffel bag. “Alrighty. Get grabbin’. Take whatever you think works or looks pretty enough to brag about to your cousins.” 

“...That’s oddly specific,” I muttered, but didn’t say anything more before I began having a look around. “And hurry,” added Violet, turning to kneel in front of a collection of borderline ancient typewriters. 

We spent the next ten minutes or so appraising various techs, from old keyboards to even older monitors. Then the conversation shifted to who would even buy something like this, which ended with us deciding that collectors and people still clinging to the past would buy something like this. 

I eventually got bored looking at the objects on this floor and gestured to the staircase with the hand that wasn’t holding the duffel bag. “Wanna head up?” 

Violet turned her head to look at me, eagerly nodding. Once we got past the initial break-in, it seemed that her easygoing personality re-emerged. She stood and jogged to meet me, and we then moved up the stairs. 

This floor was more my style. It was lined wall-to-wall with practically ancient arcade machines– pac-man, asteroids, space invaders, even the original Mortal Kombat. I couldn’t help but stare in awe. 

“Alright, forget the robbery, we have enough. I wanna take a peek at these,” Violet suggested. I immediately nodded in agreement. 

It was then that Violet and I’s easily-distractible nature got the better of us. What were we supposed to do? Not look at the awesome collection of arcade machines? To be fair, I was carrying around a duffel bag of incredibly heavy vintage technology, but it wasn’t heavy enough for me to let this opportunity go!

Because the power was off, we couldn’t do much with the machines, but we didn’t want to anyway. We were content with just looking at them. That was, until I was immersed in an anecdote that Violet was narrating to me about how she and her older brother would destroy each other at arcade games, and I saw a flicker of light out of the corner of my eye. 

I turned to face the light, immediately causing Violet to pause. “What is it?” She asked flatly. I pointed at what I was looking at, and she froze. 

One of the arcade machines had turned back on. It was the only source of light in the otherwise darkened room, and it illuminated the dingy yellow wallpaper and grey carpet. Man, this place was a dump.

I had never seen this arcade game before. It had quite a nice casing– one half of the machine was baby blue, the other half light pink. Various colorful characters decorated the sides of the case, all with some sort of old technology for heads. There was a vaguely heart-shaped logo on the marquee resembling two rotary phones, and on top of that were two large words in an attention-grabbing font.

“THE DIALUP.”

“Well, shit, who am I to not investigate something like that?” Violet scoffed before patting my shoulder and yanking me toward the machine. I wasn’t entirely sure why, but I was getting a little nervous. Well, I was nervous before this, but now I was feeling stomach-churningly nervous. 

Violet stood before the machine, leaning over to look at the characters on the sides of the casing. She chuckled and pointed at one in particular– a rather unfortunate-looking fellow with a phone for a head wearing a blue flannel. “Check out this guy. What a loser,” she chuckled. “Who wears a hoodie and a flannel?”

I gestured to my own clothing, which was largely the same. She shrugged. “I rest my case. You got a quarter?” 

My eyebrow raised before I fished around in my pockets, pulling out my only quarter. I knew it would be used for something. Violet snatched it from my hands and immediately inserted it into the coin slot. 

“Dude, no way you’re actually going to play this,” I snickered in disbelief as the title screen appeared on the monitor, accompanied by playful music. “It looks like some sort of terrible dating sim.” 

Violet moved the joystick upward and pressed one of the two buttons on the console, selecting New Game. A dialogue box popped up that read ‘What is your name?’ “Y’know what, just for that, I’m putting your name in,” she said smugly as she used the joystick to type in ‘(Y/N).’ I groaned. “Alright, whatever, but remember that we need to get out of here. We don’t know if anyone heard that glass break.”

Just then, the monitor went black. Violet frowned. “Damn. What a waste of a quarter.” She frustratedly slapped her hand onto the console. “I didn’t want to drown my loneliness in cartoon romance anyway. How was this thing even on in the first place? Didn’t you cut the power?” 

“You’re asking that now?” I chastised her. She shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m a ‘play mysterious cheesy arcade game now,’ ‘ask questions later’ kind of person.” I threw my hands up in a confused gesture. “It wasn’t even your quarter!”

Violet grinned, pressing the back of her pale hand to her forehead. “Oh, I mourn the loss of your quarter, my friend,” she droned in a dramatic, melancholy voice. I groaned loudly but quickly froze when I heard a distant high-pitched sound. 

My partner-in-crime must have heard it too, because she perked up, eyes widening. “Shit. We gotta go. Now!” She cried out just as I realized it wasn’t the whining of an arcade machine– it was sirens. Someone must have heard that glass break and called the police. 

I made a less-than-brave noise and turned to pick up the duffel bag from where I placed it next to the machine. But something caught my eye. The plug on the machine. It wasn’t attached to the wall. It was unplugged. What the fuck kind of voodoo demon bullshit was this?!

Right as I made to turn and get the hell out of that cursed museum, a high-pitched ringing sound attacked my ears. It wasn’t my tinnitus this time– it felt like it was in my head. Something was on the other line, and it wanted me to pick up.

I dropped the duffel bag and cried out in abject agony, gripping the sides of my head in an attempt to make the ringing stop. Before I clenched my eyes shut, I half-noticed the arcade machine flick back on, casting my shadow onto the carpeted floor with pale blue light. I also saw Violet rushing to my side before gripping my shoulders. 

Amidst the chaos, I could hardly hear anything. But what I did hear was Violet shouting at me, asking me what was wrong, what she could do to help. Then she yelled that the police were outside. I didn’t particularly care at the moment– I was on my knees, feeling like I was about to die. It felt like my entire head was melting off. 

I don’t know how much time passed. But I did hear the slamming of a door, which caused Violet to remove her hands from my shoulders. There was yelling and screaming from multiple voices. Some I recognized, some I didn’t. Heavy, departing footsteps. A distant impact. Glass shattering. Gunfire. 

And then there was silence. I could only guess that I had been beheaded– I was only missing the distant feeling of my head rolling across the floor. I never felt my body make contact with the dingy carpet. The blue light of the arcade machine enveloped my vision… and then it darkened.

[ughmyreality]

I'm ready for Disney to go back to being Disney ANIMATION studios! I'm all for inclucivity, but you can't just do the bare minimum and claim it's good because it features minorities. Or even worse, start remaking every single thing you've already done before, just in a lackluster version. I wish these companies would see that these projects aren't doing well and change directions. Besides, you'd think they'd learn because nearly every live action remake (Disney or not) involves some sort of "scandal" with one of the actors.

Examples:

Ian Ousley (Sokka) aledgedly lying about his race.

liu yifei (Mulan) supporting Hong Kong police causing people to boycott the movie.

Rachel Zegler (Snow White) acting like she couldn’t care less about the role and having an overall entitled attitude, making people dislike it when the film hasn't even been released yet.

The list goes on. I am absolutely tired of seeing the "magic" being sucked out of everything. I feel like I grew up with some pretty good animated movies, but what is there for people nowadays. Elemental? Wish?!?!?!?

And please don't start to mention the countless different "companies/shows" Disney has bought the rights to. Really, I think that's part of their problem. They're trying so hard to keep all these different things afloat that they're all sinking. They are trying to do too many cash grabs at once, and the quality is seriously suffering.

Disney knows, or at least knew, how to make a classic romance. There's nothing wrong with that. In fact, I'd say stick to what you know until you can get going.

And another thing, I hear there's supposed to be a Moana 2! Moana isn't even that old. They're not even letting an ample amount of time pass before they start another ploy. Where are the original ideas? Because all we're getting is revisited versions of things they've already done. And isn't common knowledge by now the running joke that the majority of Disney sequels are trash?

Now for the extra controversial option. I'm over the live action race swapping of characters we've already seen. It's one thing if it's a book. Sure, I can get behind that. But it's getting to the point that they're just swapping out anyway white person with a minority girl and calling that diversity. Can we PLEASE have some more diverse main original characters?

Plus, diversity is not having one person of color and calling it a day. Diversity isn't even having a full cast of one minority. In order to be diverse, there actually has to be a group of multiple different types of people. They think they can just throw in one black people, and all of a sudden, they're so with the times.

Then you only ever see 3 different types: black people, Latinx, and Asian (typically only Japanese or Korean). But I just have to say that that is not as diverse as people make it seem. And why is it that these minorities never interact. It's either all one minority or minorities with white people. Absolutely no in between.

Then, to top it off, I want to get back to catchy songs. A good example of this was Encanto. Not only did it focus on a topic besides romance (family bonds), but it also features a minority family in which each member looks like some actual representation. That on top of the fact the music was good, made Encanto popular despite not having much marketing I'm the beginning. You go from songs like "we don't talk about Bruno" and "Surface Pressure" to.... "This is the thanks I get" from wish.

I feel like they need more people who are passionate about what they do. Even if it's not for the whole movie, just certain aspects. Lin Manuel Miranda is known for his music. Great! He's passionate about it that's one of the reasons it was so good. Who exactly wrote the songs for wish? That is the question.

Anyway... that's all I had to say. Just felt like complaining.

[msclaritea]

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle to star in Netflix movie | Fortune

"The Duke and Duchess of Sussex’s media company, Archewell Productions, bought the rights to the novel and will work with streaming giant Netflix to produce a movie adaption, Penguin Random House confirmed on Wednesday. 

Meet Me at the Lake, written by Carley Fortune, is a love story about a couple, Will and Fern, who meet and fall in love in a whirlwind 24 hours before having to part. The two promise to meet a year later, but when Will seemingly stands Fern up, it’s another 10 years before their paths cross again. 

Though the story isn’t about being royal, the main characters have many undeniable similarities to Harry and Meghan. For starters, the book is set in Toronto, where Meghan spent seven years filming the television series Suits. It addresses postpartum depression, which Meghan spoke about in a 2021 interview with Oprah Winfrey. And Will wrestles with the loss of a parent from an automobile accident, a direct parallel to Harry’s mother, Diana, Princess of Wales, who famously died during a paparazzi car chase in 1997.

“I’m so thrilled about working with Netflix and Archewell to bring Meet Me at the Lake to the screen,” the book author Fortune told Vogue. “Will and Fern’s love story is dear to my heart, and I can’t imagine a more perfect partnership.” 

THE INSTANT #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER!

A Most Anticipated Book by Today ∙ Oprah Daily ∙ Katie Couric Media ∙ BuzzFeed ∙ SheReads ∙ Zibby Mag ∙ PopSugar ∙ BookRiot ∙ Culturess ∙ Her Campus ∙ The Everygirl ∙ and more!

"A random connection sends two strangers on a daylong adventure where they make a promise one keeps and the other breaks, with life-changing effects, in this breathtaking new novel from the New York Times bestselling author of Every Summer After.

Fern Brookbanks has wasted far too much of her adult life thinking about Will Baxter. She spent just twenty-four hours in her early twenties with the aggravatingly attractive, idealistic artist, a chance encounter that spiraled into a daylong adventure in the city. The timing was wrong, but their connection was undeniable: they shared every secret, every dream, and made a pact to meet one year later. Fern showed up. Will didn’t.

At thirty-two, Fern’s life doesn’t look at all how she once imagined it would. Instead of living in the city, Fern’s back home, running her mother’s lakeside resort—something she vowed never to do. The place is in disarray, her ex-boyfriend’s the manager, and Fern doesn’t know where to begin.

She needs a plan—a lifeline. To her surprise, it comes in the form of Will, who arrives nine years too late, with a suitcase in tow and an offer to help on his lips. Will may be the only person who understands what Fern’s going through. But how could she possibly trust this expensive-suit wearing mirage who seems nothing like the young man she met all those years ago. Will is hiding something, and Fern’s not sure she wants to know what it is."

This book debuted in May...of this year; May 2023. Anyone else thinking what I'm thinking and how can you not? Prince Harry, Meghan Markle & Crew really do think the public is full of idiots.

[count-a-w-k]

I had been talking to my mother for a few minutes when this random stranger approached me. I told my mother I’d call her back and ended the call. The stranger, a teenager, asked for my assistance as there was a man lying on the ground next to one of the park benches by the down ramp. So, I got up and went with him. The man on the floor was unconscious and the teenager was worried, as was his girlfriend (I think it was his girlfriend?) Anyway, the teenager, whose name was Aiden, was checked the man’s pulse while I dialled 999. We got through and I explained a little and passed my phone to Aiden who gave more information. The Emergency operator told us to remove his backpack and roll him flat on his back. As we did so, to our surprise he sat up right, then got to his feet. He was staggering, so we realised he was just drunk. Well, it was a warm day, and a lot of people were out enjoying themselves into the night. He staggered about, telling us to fuck off. We ended the call to the emergency services and Aiden suggested we get the guy to sit down on a park bench, which we managed to do. While Aiden made sure the guy was okay, I made conversation with his friend, whose name was Eloise. It was interesting listening to her point of view on life and also telling her about mine. In my eyes she will go on to do a lot of nice things for her future.

After a while I apologised, saying I couldn’t stay for a longer time as I needed to get back on the road. I bid them farewell and, hoping that the drunk man got home safely, made my way back up the ramp. Looking at the bridge before me, I said to myself ‘Alex it’s off into the unknown’ and, knowing I’d crossed my chosen PONR (Point of no return.), set off, I went ringing my bell to warn pedestrians I was coming.

Over the bridge I came to a junction and turned left, onto the Richmond road, towards Twickenham, about a 5 minute run. When I entered Twickenham High Street, I stopped and asked these Cocktail Bar staff members if I was going in the right direction for the River Crane, to which they replied ‘yes’ and gave more information. So, I carried on, passing Twickenham Green and then on for a couple of minutes until I turned right into a residential street, making my way towards a path by the river Crane. As I left the road and started on the path, I came to a point where the area ahead was dark. No light shined through the trees, and I couldn’t see the path before me. I took a photo and posted on Twitter with my comment ‘I wonder what’s lurking for me in there?’

I set off again, taking it slowly, with my front light focusing on the path, I made a little video for Twitter with my bike-mounted phone and then passed under a road bridge, laughing to myself “I hope there are no trolls waiting for me there!”. The route next to this river was long and very dark. Was I scared? No, I was just having a laugh, while thinking I felt like I was in a movie waiting for a serial killer to jump out the trees and murder me.

I rode cautiously along the darkened path until I made it to the Hounslow road, which I followed for a few hundred yards before turning right and onto rough path, through Leitrim Park in Feltham. Back on the main road I passed over Feltham train station pedestrian bridge then reached yet another path along the Longford River. Stopping for a brief moment, I noticed a faint glow on the horizon to my right - the dawn was already breaking for a new day.

Finally reaching the Staines road I immediately headed south-west. The straight road felt long and boring, as if there was no end to it, so when I saw a McDonalds by the road I decided to have a stop for twenty minutes. I needed a drink, so I bought a small cola and had a break, checking Twitter and smoking a cigarette. I dared not sit down, because I needed to keep the blood flowing through my legs, so I paced up and down. I also checked my location on my phone and noticed I was two miles from Staines bridge. I soon realised I would be climbing the hills shortly, as this was going to be the beginning of the fun part.

After a short while, I cycled through Staines High Street, noticing the quietness. A thought was running through my brain, ‘lucky I’m here at this time, as it maybe extremely busy later.’ Getting to the bridge I decided to record another video as I got off the bike and walked over. The water under the bridge was calm and the thought ran through my mind that this was the last time I would cross the Thames this journey. And, once I’d passed under the M25, I would be out of the London area altogether, and on towards Camberley. However, it was the challenge between the next towns of Egham and Camberley that would push me to the limit as I hadn’t travelled on that road in over twenty years.

After going through Egham High Street, I reached Egham Hill. Two possibilities were going through my mind, either quit now or go for broke. So, I decided to put myself to the test. For the first 352 yards, I cycled in a lower gear. I struggled for a bit until I said, ‘walk up part of the way until it flattens out.’ So, I did. Once I passed under a foot bridge I got back on my bike and kept on pedalling. The A30 is a strange road, hill climbs and descents. It was like being on a roller coaster at a fair ground! There was so little traffic I had the road all to myself.

I had to stop at one point to take a drink out of my bag, and realised that it was now full daylight. Swapping my glasses for tinted riding ones, I set off again. Passing through the level crossing at Sunningdale, I realised that I was in for another bloody climb. So I decided to walk a little. This went on for a while, alternating between walking and riding, until I reached a BP petrol station. I asked a couple who had just got out of their car if I was going in the right direction for Camberley, but they were not from the area. The staff, however, told me I was on the right road and to keep going as it was not far.

So I got back on the bike and carried on until I reached yet another hill, about to enter Camberley. I had arranged to meet a friend who lived in the area, at a local MacDonalds, but realised he wouldn’t be there for another hour. So I ordered my breakfast via the MacDonalds app and flopped down in a seat, dropping my bag on the seat- between me and the window. Because the drive-through was busy, it was almost twenty minutes before my food arrived, and I was drifting in and out of sleep as I waited. In my mind, I knew that after this rest the real challenge would begin. Portsmouth – or bust!

[excusethequality]

My 2024 in Film: May

Is this it? Is this the month I finally get caught up on my movie listing duties? Perhaps!

Sometimes I'll look at what I watched in a month and it seems like I was watching things selected at random. But if you've been following these posts all year I think you'll be beginning to see the through lines to my madness.

A lot of me taking chances on things this month. Which usually means some really intriguing titles and also some truly unfortunate ones as well. I can't say I loved any of the new things I saw this month, but certainly some ones that got me thinking.

*= a rewatch

109.

Thief

(1981)

— Crime Thriller Directed by: Michael Mann

A jewel thief tries to balance his personal life and his life of crime, but soon finds that each side poses an insurmountable threat to the other.

I was listening to the Faculty of Horror episode on Michael Mann's Manhunter (1986) and they made mention of this one and it made me curious to see another of his films.

So far I'd say that Mann definitely has style, which I appreciate in a director, but I can't say that either of the films I've seen of his have really grabbed me.

There's quite a bit to the technical side of this one that I like. But I just can't be presented with such a toxicly masculine character and be rooting for them. And I get the vibe that the film is on his side and sometimes thinks he's in the right and I generally do not agree with that take.

I think he's a sack of shit. Anything good he does is wrapped in like 12 layers of caveats. If ever a character could have really used some therapy it was this guy.

In fact my letterboxd review for this one was simply, "Instead of buying silk shirts and gold watches he should have bought some therapy."

I guess on one hand it is presenting a very honest portrayal of the ways that toxic masculinity harms men as well as the women in their lives. But on the other hand, I don't get the vibe that it was specifically trying to make such points and more often than not the film itself suffers from the same tainted viewpoint that the main character does.

110.

Mac and Me

(1988)

— Sci-fi Family Adventure Directed by: Stewart Raffill

A family of aliens wind up getting sucked into a U.S. spacecraft collecting terrain and atmosphere samples on another planet. After the craft returns to Earth the baby of the family gets loose and encounters a young boy and his family.

As a Conan O'Brien fan I was well familiar with this one from Paul Rudd's visits, but had never actually seen it. So when I saw that it was on Tubi I figured it was time to see what it was all about.

Definitely a bizarre movie. Definitely something that would have been better with drinks and friends.

(I feel like I say that about a lot of the weird shit I watch. I should probably look into buying some drinks and getting more friends.)

You can see how badly it wanted to recreate the magic of E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial. But as is often the case when someone wants to recreate a big hit they just wind up trying to recreate a similar plot. After all the thing that made E.T. popular wasn't the plot, it was the execution. And so putting your B team behind a loose approximation of the E.T. story is just a recipe for a flop.

As far as bad movies go it has its moments where its lack of skill is quite entertaining, but overall it drags quite a bit. And the alien costumes/puppets/whatever are ROUGH. Part of why E.T. was endearing was he could emote. And these things? Ooo, boy. They definitely can't.

I feel like if you're the sort of person who would enjoy Mac and Me then you probably already know it.

111. *

The Meg

(2018)

— Creature Feature Directed by: Jon Turteltaub

A group of scientists inadvertently release a prehistoric giant shark lose from its deep sea habitat.

I thought that I had never seen this, but I was halfway through before I realized that I had. I have no idea when or where I saw it, but I have definitely seen it before.

I've undertaken the deranged mission to watch and rank all the shark movies and that's why I'm here. I would say The Meg is the epitome of a middle of the road movie. It brings me neither joy, nor does it bring me pain. It neither excels at anything nor does it truly fail at anything.

It's like a lot of talented people got together to make something none of them cared much about. In a couple years I'll probably forget I've seen it all over again.

112.

Ghost Shark

(2013)

— D-movie Creature Feature Directed by: Griff Furst

A couple of fishermen kill a shark for fun and its ghost comes back for revenge because of reasons.

Oh boy. It's not good. There's just something about the genre of shark movies that attracts people that want to make extremely low-budget trash. I am beginning to think I may have to bail before I even get close to watching all the shark movies out there.

Because damn!

The conceit that the ghost shark can manifest from out of any source of water went a long way to keeping their budget low, because now they can film their shark movie from land! And I can't really fault them for it though, because it also provides more of an interesting hook than a lot of the low-budget shark movies have.

I'll give it credit for having a few scenes go so over-the-top that it's hard not to enjoy the lunacy. But overall the lack of talent in all departments makes it a rough watch.

It's definitely not the worst shark movie I've ever seen, but it's definitely far from the top.

113.

Letter to a Pig

(2022)

— Animated Short Directed by: Tal Kantor

A young girl begins to daydream upon hearing a Holocaust survivor give a talk at her school.

This showed up on Kanopy, and it was the only one of the Oscar Animated Short Film nominees that I hadn't been able to find a copy of to watch.

There were some parts where it felt like they had just put an animation filter over some live action shots and then adjusted them by hand? Maybe they were actually rotoscoping, but it definitely was giving me filter vibes. In any case, it's a style of animation I don't particularly enjoy. And the best visuals were the ones where they weren't doing it.

This one confounded me a little. I feel like whatever it was trying to say was going over my head. And it makes some bold choices, but yeah, I'm not so sure they were actually in service to its message?

I dunno. I'm open to the theory that I was just missing/misinterpreting the themes it was going for.

114.

Cape Fear

(1991)

— Thriller Directed by: Martin Scorsese

A man gets out of prison and makes it his mission to get revenge on the defense attorney that helped get him sent to jail instead of providing him with a real defense.

I've heard about this one forever. There's even a whole episode of The Simpsons that's just their version of this!

I wanted to like it, but it's just too weird. It's a movie where two different types of misogyny are pitted against one another and I have no one to root for, because I'm just hoping that they wind up offing each other.

Plus it boggles my mind that Scorsese made this AFTER Goodfellas. There are so many shots of this that I can only describe as having a Someone's Nephew Having Fun With Aftereffects style.

Robert DeNiro is the highlight of the movie. But his character was also a woman beating, rapist, pedophile, so you can't really ever like him in the same way you might like the villains in other movies.

I'm glad I've finally seen it. Probably don't need to see it again.

115. *

Rumble in the Bronx

(1995)

— Action Directed by: Stanley Tong

A Chinese man visits his Uncle in New York City in order to help him out with his wedding and the selling of his store, but trouble finds him when he runs afoul of a local gang.

I'm pretty certain this is the movie that hooked me on Jackie Chan movies when I was a kid. I definitely had it on VHS and I've lost count of how many times I've seen it over the years.

I love this movie. I don't know what that says about my taste, but it's true. This thing is all over the place in the best possible way.

To me any great movie must be one that you'll remember long after you've seen it. And this movie is full of memorable bits. Perhaps you won't remember the specifics of the plot, but you will leave this movie with a lasting impression.

Jackie jumping off parking garages, his amazing uncle and new aunt who seem like they came in from a different movie, kids in wheelchairs being attacked by thugs, a New York City straight out of the mind of someone that's never actually been to New York City, a shooting location that also couldn't be more obviously not New York City, a plethora of amazing outfits, hovercrafts, swords-wielding convertibles, trucks full of balls, thugs, wood chippers, action, delightfully strange dubbing.

This movie has everything!

116.

Dumb Money

(2023)

— Comedic Drama Directed by: Craig Gillespie

A dramatization of the story of Keith Gill and the Game Stop short squeeze of 2021.

This movie wanted so badly to be something like I, Tonya (2017) or The Big Short (2015).

It's not. But it really wanted to be!

The especially baffling thing about that is that Craig Gillespie directed I, Tonya, so you'd think he'd be better at trying to replicate its charm?

I don't have much to say about it honestly. It's a very middle of the road movie. It's the kind of thing you can safely put on while you put together a puzzle or clean your room or something.

It's not bad or anything, there's just nothing there that really demands your attention. You'll enjoy it well enough while it's on, it will leave no lasting impressions, and a few months from now you won't remember a thing about it.

117.

The Foreigner

(2017)

— Crime Thriller Directed by: Martin Campbell

After his daughter is killed in a terrorist bombing a grieving immigrant father makes it his mission to make sure that those responsible are made to pay for their crime.

I was talking with a coworker about Jackie Chan movies where Jackie actually goes hard on the acting side of things and he mentioned this one. I was intrigued so I grabbed it from the library.

It's a weird sort of movie, because Jackie's character is 100% the most interesting part of the movie. Actually his storyline is really gripping and thrilling. But 90% of the movie just feels like your standard airport-read Thriller novel plot about politics and terrorists and whatnot. Jackie's character seems utterly shoehorned into the story. His story arc really doesn't have any importance in the overall outcomes.

But while I just thoroughly didn't care about the sordid affairs of the politicians and the gang and the rebel faction of the gang, the story of this father is fantastic.

I really don't understand why the story isn't focused on him. Jackie is really giving the performance so much emotion. And there are all these great themes about the immigrant dream and how countries in turn treat and perceive them.

So, yeah, a hard one to talk about. On one hand I love Jackie's side of the story. And on the other hand the rest of it is just incredibly stock. So do with that information what you will.

118.

Dead on Time

(1983)

— Comedy Short Directed by: Lyndall Hobbs

A man is told by his doctor that he has 10 minutes left to live and he decides to try his best to make the most of them.

As someone who grew up watching Mr. Bean episodes my grandma taped for me, I have a lot of nostalgia attached with Rowan Atkinson. So I was excited to come across this short with him that I had never heard of.

It certainly has its moments, but overall it was a little flat for me. I think if it had allowed itself to escalate the wildness of every scene some more I probably would have loved it. Actually that was part of what made Mr. Bean so brilliant: the way every skit would start in some familiar situation and then just continuously escalate everything to hilarious results.

The premise here of a man who is trying desperately to fit a lifetime's worth of living into 10 minutes is a really great set up for comedy. But it just wound up being a little too restrained to really make the most of its potential.

119.

Leviathan

(2012)

— Documentary Directed by: Lucien Castaing-Taylor & Véréna Paravel

Cameras were set up to capture the sights and sounds of a fishing ship.

I've been loving the documentaries I've seen this year so I was looking at some lists of the best documentaries and saw this one mentioned on a few. It definitely didn't sound like my kind of jam, but you never know.

The only way I can properly describe it to you is that it is 100% the sort of thing you would expect to find playing in some random room of a modern art museum installation.

It was produced by the Sensory Ethnography Lab at Harvard, which also goes a long way to describing the sort of thing you can expect.

There's no narrator, no story; nothing of that sort. Just very observational cinema, fly-on-the-wall, really in the thick of it kind of shots from all around this fishing ship. From the hull, to below deck, to on the deck, to the crew quarters. It takes you all over.

I respect the art. But definitely not my sort of thing.

In other news, life on a fishing ship looks like it sucks.

120.

Gimme Shelter

(1970)

— Rock Documentary Directed by: Albert Maysles & Charlotte Zwerin & David Maysles

A documentary on the Rolling Stones and their infamous Altamont Speedway Free Festival of 1969.

This is another one I saw on some lists of great documentaries. I didn't really know anything about it other than it was about a some Rolling Stones concert.

I spent the first half of the movie being a little bored and thinking to myself, "wow, the the 60s/70s were a weird era. Every part of this concert seems like the world's worst idea."

But then the concert starts coming together and you realize that truly this was the world's worst idea. Just a wildly bad idea that very quickly goes from "this seems a little unsafe" to "someone people are gonna die."

Also, Mick Jagger kind of seems like an asshole. There are some parts where he's being really disrespectful to the people trying to put the concert together. And at every point he seems to be blaming others for the concert being a mess. But it was y'all's dumbass idea in the first place!

Like, yeah, putting on a massive free concert for people sounds like a great idea in theory. But the second you stop and put any thought into what would happen if you get hundreds of thousands of people in one area with no food, no water, no restrooms, no security, no medical staff? Terrible idea.

And he's out here acting like how was he supposed to know that paying the Hell's Angels gang in alcohol to provide some security could backfire???

How does someone NOT know that that would backfire?

But yeah, that wound up being a wild documentary. I liked the documentary style. There's no narrator and it's all firsthand footage. And it's weirdly like watching the dreams of the 60s dying before your very eyes.

——————

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MAY Stats

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Movies watched this month: 12

Rewatch percentage: 16.7% (2/12)

Favorite new movie of the month: Gimme Shelter

Least favorite: Ghost Shark

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Previous months' posts:

JAN | FEB | MAR p.1 | MAR p.2 | APR

[omamervt]

Look, I know, telling you to Get Physical Media doesn't really do much for you, nor does it negate the fact that in this day and age, physical media is really just one extra step to take to enjoy the damn thing. But I need you to get something.

The people saying this shit? They aren't doing so out of some nostalgic lens (Well, some might be), or snobbery, or whatever.

It's because physical media used to not be so complicated.

If you're a teenager today, you're too young to remember this probably, but before the PS4/Xbox One era of video games, if you bought a game disk, there was a good chance it would just... work. No download necessary, just pop the disk in and it'd work. On PC, we were unfortunately already at the point where the disk would try to install a DRM like Games for Windows or Steam if you didn't already have it, and early Steam was godawful (Games for Windows was significantly worse, though) but even so, everything you needed to play the game was on the disk.

When the PS3/Xbox 360/Wii launched, there was no assumption or guarantee that the console would ever once be connected to the internet. Mine certainly never were! It wasn't until the PS4/Xbox One era that that even became a serious consideration (not that it went over well for Microsoft at the time). But what that meant for games at the time was that they HAD to work literally out of the box if online multiplayer wasn't the main draw of the game.

Y'all know the story of Sonic 06, right? You know why that game was never patched, even though the PS3 had the capacity to let Sega do so? They looked at the numbers, determined that not enough players would even be able to GET the patch, and decided it wasn't worth the financial investment that'd be necessary to fix the game and potentially salvage their most iconic series' reputation for two whole console generations.

Anyway instead of learning the lesson from Sonic 06 that Games Need To Work Right Away Forever, we've moved the opposite direction. We've made physical media feel like a hassle to use. What used to be as simple as popping a disk or tape in a machine and pressing play is now loading software from your spot on the couch, THEN getting up to insert the disk, then sitting back down to press play. And even if we're not talking games, we're just talking music and movies, we run the risk that the whole thing may not work because it needs to update this software you've not used in a minute because why would you when most of your music's accessible via your Spotify subscription, and most of your movies are spread across the 3-5 streaming services you use. Of course it seems like a bigger hassle now!

[lindsaystravelblogs3]

Days 80-82 – Sunday-Tuesday, 13-15 August  Venice

Sunday

Our cruise was over so after an early breakfast, we disembarked with all our luggage before 8am, and walked to our hotel a mere eight hundred metres away.  We were lucky that the ship berthed so close to our hotel and it was possible to walk across one canal and through a small (mainly dog-walking/shitting) park and check in early in the morning.

The people at the hotel were very helpful whenever we needed something or wanted directions and helped with our bags, taking them upstairs to our room (there was no lift) and even walking them to our taxi at the end of our stay – a bit more than the 800 metres further along the quay to where a vehicle could get in.

Our room wasn’t going to be ready until 3pm so we walked into the main part of the city, along several paths and across numerous more canals and bridges – it really did seem like the Venice of the movies.  We reached the Grand Canal and explored around the central harbour and transport hub before sitting down in a pub for a drink and to kill some time. Despite it still being a bit early, we bought a snack to tide us over - and we missed lunch instead.

We bought a two-day Waterbus (ferry) ticket and strolled back to our a different way through a park, some streets, alleys and canals and arrived back at our hotel at 1pm to find that our room was ready.  We were both pretty pooped after the cruise and a sleepless night, followed by our longish walk so we both had a nap – very unusual for me, a little less unusual for Heather.

We went out again around 6pm to explore a bit more of the local area and to get something for dinner.

We found a very nice little restaurant with tables along the edge of a canal with water taxis and other craft zipping back and forth at our elbow.  It was really very pleasant, almost stereotypically Venice – until a couple of other tourist families turned up and created havoc.  They sat at a couple of tables right next to ours and their completely uncontrolled kids drove us nuts.  There were pigeons everywhere (dirty ugly creatures, presumably disease-ridden, and definitely not good to have around food) and the kids were chasing them everywhere, including right across our table.  Then they started feeding them around our table – not their own table – and I tried to shoo them away.  Unfortunately, I don’t think they understood any English - or maybe they were just inherently obnoxious kids.  There was a low wall separating our table from the canal and the kids started putting food on the wall immediately next us attracting the pigeons almost onto our dinner. I got pretty annoyed and shouted at them to get away from us and to encourage the birds to foul their own table instead.  The parents simply ignored it all and gave the kids more food to feed to the birds.  I made some more angry noise without any effect on either the parents or their brats, so we ate as quickly as we could and left - potentially a really nice dining experience completely spoiled by horrible kids and uncaring parents.  It was a nice place, but we would never return to a place where the staff simply let some of their customers annoy other patrons without attempting to intervene.

We found a small supermarket on the way back to the hotel and bought a few things (mainly drinks) to make our stay a bit easier and less expensive – packets of noodles for lunches and so on.

Monday

We ate breakfast in the hotel and set off to catch the Waterbus to go to Murano – the island famous for its amazing glass.  The island is close to Venice – just across the harbour really – but there is a surprisingly large and important wetland on the way.  It is a Ramsar wetland, an important place for migrating birds and I photographed quite a lot of them from the Waterbus.  The wetlands are protected so we never got very close, but there were certainly a lot of birds there and I added seven or eight new species to my Italy list as we passed by. It is surprising how close to the city such an important bird wetland is - the equivalent to Richmond or Hawthorn to Melbourne's CBD.

Of course, there are huge churches everywhere, but it was not possible to identify them from the Waterbus.  On the island (Murano), we walked along the main street and a few side streets and saw a lot of wonderful glass – and even purchased a few small pieces that we hope to get back to Australia without any breakages.  I absolutely love glass and reckon it is made to be touched and handled, but some of the pieces we saw were incredibly elaborate, up to two metres high (or long) and mostly spectacularly beautiful – and far too costly to risk any damage.  There were a lot of figures of people, animals and birds, and I wish we could have purchased more and brought them home.  Alas, even if we could afford the extraordinary prices, they wouldn’t fit in our bags and they certainly wouldn’t survive the airline baggage handlers anyway.

We wanted a drink before lunch and started to sit at a table until a very rude waiter yelled at us and chased us away.  That table was one of a few reserved for people buying expensive meals, and people only wanting his expensive drinks had to sit on the outskirts in more humble surroundings.  We sat and had our drink and watched the empty table from which he had chased us away – we couldn’t sit there, but we were pleased that he had no other customers to sit there either.

We wanted to catch the Waterbus to Burano – another island nearby, famous for its lacework.  Unfortunately, the queue for the Waterbus was at least half a kilometre long, and we didn’t cherish waiting a couple of hours in the burning sun, so caught a different Waterbus back to Venice proper.

We had a very extravagant lunch not far from the tourist Mecca of St Mark’s Square and then caught the Waterbus (with no queue) out to Burano via Murano, probably still being there before many of the people who would have been in the queue ahead of us had we stayed on Murano.  On Burano, despite its fame for its lace, I think there was a lot more Murano glass than Burano lace on display or for sale.  We made a few more small purchases of both, and caught the Waterbus back to the mainland.  It is almost impossible to read their transport maps so we hopped on and off a few more ferries before finally making it back to the supermarket for a few more items, and eating spicy noodles in our room for dinner – accompanied by a good bottle of red wine (of course!).

Tuesday

We made breakfast from some of our purchases and set off again on another series of Waterbus trips until we reached St Mark’s Square.  Despite the early hour, there were people everywhere and we had to push our way through to see much.  We didn’t join any of the long queues to go inside any of the building, but even from the outside, they seemed to be even more elaborately decorated than all the other highly ornamented buildings we have seen recently.

We explored the area and fought our way up and out of a few crowded alleys, mostly with glass or jewellery shops on both sides, and eventually wound our way back to the Waterbus to find our way to the Jewish quarter – the original Ghetto, still mainly occupied by devout Jews.  It is a pretty amazing place, dripping with history, but we were very hot and tired so explored a little and then made our way back to the Waterbus and thence (via more ons and offs) back to our hotel.

When walking the last couple of hundred metres to our hotel, we stopped at a tiny restaurant, hidden away from the canal, to have a drink.  We chatted with the owner (or maybe the owner’s wife) and decided to return there for dinner a couple of hours later.  We did so, and enjoyed a delicious meal along with some conversation with her somewhat broken English and our completely shattered (non-existent) Italian.

[hellsurvivr]

         WHAT IF,    it was becoming a moniker that she hated. all the what ifs surrounding their decisions laid out in front of them like a broken track. pointing them in the manay different directions they could have gone. what if she'd just called, what if he'd just called. what if they'd admitted things before leaving, what if she'd gone to bayern. it all played out like a sick and twisted movie inside her head. (    the ending being the two together!    )  and whilst she had no regrets. she had much to apologize for. and not even his words would soothe that sting inside of her. so instead she remains.   keeping her argument beind her lips    as she was broken now, didn't he see the way she was barely holding herself together. no longer was she the strong woman he'd been with. in it's place was the shattered remains. an angel with broken wings. and how could he want her.

        she knew him    ━   and his refusal for the word no.   and its whe follows him. sitting in his car and feeling her anxiety climbing with each mile they get closer to her apartment. not only was the what ifs sitting between them. she knew it was a long conversation to air out the other shit that hung in the air. the main one being drakos. as whilst she'd been in the news about her night times. she knew that was the one on her instagram.     (    a choice she made!    )    and she had to show there was nothing there. it was just drakos trying to get her clean. to undo her mistakes. he had given up his addictions. had cleaned up his act. AND HE WANTED HER TO DO THE SAME. and well, she couldn't admit that to the world. so instead she let them believe what they wanted. to hide her dirty secret. but she wanted no secrets from andrei. not when those secrets. could cost her the man she loved. once more.

        it was strange to see, how awkward they had become. how much andrei seemed to be holding back from her. even as he led her to her apartment. and leant against the door wishing for her to be safe. she could see it in the tenseness of his movements. and even in her drunken mind. she had a feeling, he was wondering just where they stood. his mind no doubt wondering if drakos would appear.    (    and ruin this thing before they can fix it!    )    and it has her stopping. but so does his words as she looks over to the counter. the one visible from her stand point. that showed the booze that rested upon it. that she'd bought the moment her mother left for the states. once more losing herself in the darkness.           ❛   please. i ... i can't be alone .....   ❜    SHE FELT WEAK SAYING IT.   for showing another side of her vulnerability. but this was andrei. she could be weak before him and knew she wouldn't be judged. reaching for his hand, she tangles tattooed fingers around it before looking up at him.        ❛   he's not here. and won't be appearing. and we, we can talk in the morning .....   ❜    she didn't need to say who she meant in the beginning of the conversation. and let's andrei's hand go, leaving him to make the choice as she moves into the apartment. stripping off the hoodie that clug to her features. it would e andrei's choice. and she'd live with the repercussions.

It hurt his heart knowing how easily this could have been fixed, how all it would have taken was a small message to get them to talk and avoid this whole situation entirely. It hurt, killed him inside to know how avoidable this was. Now? Now look where they are, both having to deal with the loss of the other in their own ways before it brought them here. A mess is what this whole thing was and he hated seeing what it had done to her. Part of him blamed himself for showing up like this, making her leave and go get a drink. If he hadn’t have shown up, ran into her, then maybe she would be home but then they would have never had this conversation. They would have remained in the same unknown state of how the other felt, going about their tortured lives of trying to fill a void that would never be filled by anyone else. What Andrei did know, however, was he didn’t need to hear her say she was sorry because in his head there wasn’t anything for her to apologize for. She had done what he had done, make themselves feel something and anything that wasn’t loneliness. “No, no, you have nothing to apologize for.”

He says it quietly, shaking his head because he wants her to hear it and know but he also doesn’t want to yell it out. This was a delicate conversation and deserved that respect. However, he hadn’t anticipated to hear her say she loved him. Leaving her hanging without much of how he felt back had felt wrong. It wasn’t the way he had wanted to say those words or how he wanted to tell her but it had to be said. There was no questioning it or holding back, Andrei knew he felt that since he left. And hearing her say his name the way she had just now nearly shattered his heart. The tone was soft, quiet, how he missed hearing her say his name. The Romanian in that moment wanted so badly to pull her back into his arms, tell her again that he loved her and he had this entire time. That he was just as much her’s as she was his. But he lets her have her distance, knowing how overwhelming this all was. This had to be done at a pace she felt comfortable with. But even then it doesn’t stop him from offering her a ride home. It was the safest option and maybe let him spend some last few moments with her on the drive.

Andrei wasn’t about to take no for an answer and she knew that. No doubt one of the reasons she follows along. Opening the door, he lets her into the passenger seat before sliding into the driver’s side. The car roars to life not too long after and he begins the ride home. There wasn’t much to say, the directions to her place was all he needed and he wasn’t about to force her to speak on anything else after the conversation in the parking lot. They had said enough for tonight, maybe, at least he knew they weren’t done. They couldn’t be, this was a conversation that needed to continue when she was sober and when they both weren’t exhausted. It doesn’t take long until they reach her place, putting the car in park and looking over at her and their eyes meet. It seemed neither really wanted to say goodbye. He always was weak for her, unable to say no. The added kiss to the corner of his lips nearly sent a jolt through him. His jaw tensed, watching her get out before he’s swallowing thickly and pulling the key out of the ignition.

“I think that would be best, make sure you’re safe.” He stuffs the key back into his pocket and follows her to the elevator to go up to her place. They once more walk down the hall in silence, his hands stuffed into his pockets until they reach her door. Turning, he leans against the wall beside it as he watches her open it. Slowly he moves to stand up straight, remaining a bit in the door way as she walks inside. “You still need me to make sure you’re safe?”

[madd-devil]

Peau d'Âne's daughter and the Lost Boy

Part 1 is here ! This is part 2

Summary: Felix becomes the new "pet" of Rumpletilskin's apprentice, (Y/N). As weeks pass, he starts developing something towards her...

Felix's days were… interestingly boring.

He wasn't allowed to go outside on his own, even the slightest. He was not allowed to run the shop alone as well, which he found dumb. Wasn't he supposed to help them some way or another? Rumpletilskin was always barking after him, treating him like a dog, which made Felix angry. They could be heard on the streets, bickering and yelling at each other on some days. It was a wonder how the blond haired boy was not punished for those outbursts.

Oddly enough, he started to enjoy Belle's presence. She was a good break from two powerful and gloomy characters that were the Dark One and (Y/N). Belle started bringing him books after he said he didn’t find anything interesting and that's how Felix would spend most of the day: reading either on the sofa near the window or in the bedroom. Also, for someone who had a messy room, (Y/N) surprisingly didn't spend much time in it. She was absent most of the time, Felix noticed. He didn’t know where she went during the day, but he knew that during the evenings, she was either at a friend's house or partying outside. The blond haired boy didn't mind: he enjoyed the quietness when he was reading.

This day however, (Y/N) was present. And she looked as bored as she was. She was pacing around the shop like a lion in a cage, touching objects that had a sign "Do not touch!" on it. Felix didn't know where Rumpletilskin was and he didn't care about his whereabouts. Finally a day he could spend without getting screamed at, or without getting nearly stabbed by a fork because he used the wrong silverware to eat the salad.

So yes, Felix was very pleased to be alone in the bedroom. The book he had been reading since a few days ago was White Fangs by Jack London. Belle had brought him another one from the author, named The Call of the Wild. Was it strange for him to relate to the main characters? It felt like all his life: when he was out on the streets, like Buck when he was a sled dog, other people showed him skills to survive.

Then, hearing Pan's call for the first time, it felt like his life was finally taking a good direction. He had a family,(somewhat, the boys seemed to fear him more than they wanted to befriend him. He had always suspected his age and his height for this), and Pan… Pan had always been at his side since their meeting. Felix still saw him as a deity, or something like that, he had been marveled by the numerous powers Pan showed during fights or to impress the boys. After that…. Well those godforsaken heroes destroyed it all, they brought false promises of happiness and of homes and the other boys bought it quickly. What was that? What about loyalty? Was it because Pan punished them too much?

Was Neverland harsh? Yes but it needed to be: they needed to protect this green jewel from pirates like Hook or other undesirable people. Not able to concentrate on the sentences, the blond haired boy took a deep breath and went back to the top of the page, ready to read again. His mind was as messy as the room.

"What are you reading?"

He raised his head from the book, and saw (Y/N) standing in the doorway, leaning against it.

"White Fang." He showed her the cover. "I like that writer. Jack London."

"Well, White Fang, would you like to watch a movie with me? I am bored, the shop is closed, and Rumpletilskin is on a date with Belle." She told him with a annoyed sigh. "I will even let you choose the movie! I am a pretty indecisive person."

Why did she want to spend time with him? He was their prisoner. Yes, he may be living in a golden cage but deep down, he didn't forget his status. He could even call himself a slave. But, Felix gave in and carefully put a bookmark made of cardboard that he drew on it and closed his book, beside his cushion.

"Fine. I was getting bored anyway." He lied, as he was greatly appreciating his book. "What kind of movies should we watch?" He asked as they both came downstairs. The word felt foreign on his tongue, there was nothing like a movie back in Neverland or back… back in his old life.

"Well, you will be the one choosing." She led him to the living room and to a shelving unit. "I am going to make us some popcorn."

"What's popcorn?" He asked but it was too late: she was already out of the room. He groaned and his attention went back to the full shelves. He had a hard time reading the titles and decided to just choose one randomly.

(Y/N) came back quickly with a glass bowl filled with little white round things. Felix turned to her with a movie and handed it to her. In exchange, she gave him the bowl.

"Into the woods? Didn't know you were a musical fan, Felix." She chuckled and he felt a bit insulted. Was it a bad choice?

"We can change if you don't like it."

"No! No, this is good. I mean, we are fairytale characters and this speaks about fairytales. Kind of fitting."

He hummed at her comment and settled himself on the couch, waiting for (Y/N) to start the weird magic box.

She practically jumped on the sofa and she stared at him for a second, giggling. He rolled his eyes at her childish behaviour. The movie then started and she oddly got closer to him, bringing a blanket with her. He didn’t really know how to react so he pretended that it wasn't bothering him. He kept thinking of keeping a clear and neutral face.

The young woman was also starting to fall asleep. He groaned when she started to breath loudly, which was ruining the movie. And he couldn't hear what the characters were saying! Groaning, he reached for the "remote". He had seen her pressing some buttons before, how hard could it be?

"Felix…" She whined, eyes closed and put her head on his chest which made him blush madly. His heart started to beat hard in his chest as well, and he feared she may hear it. "What are you doing?"

"I am trying to put the volume up for the movie." He answered, his eyes focusing on the remote. "I am trying to do it on my own." He then added as Sharon, that he learnt that she was (Y/N)'s familiar, appeared and jumped on his knees. Felix was a bit scared of the cat: he was sure she was spying on him with her big green eyes. But the cat seemed to appreciate him. She laid down near her owner, and purred as she rubbed her head on Felix's arm. "Can you tell your cat to leave?"

"No… she is so cute. She likes you a lot!" (Y/N) smiled as she gave some pets to her cat. "You should pet her sometimes."

"I will… or not." He let out a sigh and gave up on the remote. His hand went into the popcorn bowl and he started to eat a few. Sharon the cat tried to eat some as well but he lifted the bowl high enough so she wouldn't be able to access to it. The cat let out a angry puff and finally left the room.

"I am going to bed... feel free to watch any other movies. Have a good evening Felix." (Y/N) told him with a sweet smile, which strangely made him ill in the stomach. He heard her going upstairs and he let out another sigh, not enjoying being on his own.

He didn’t like his new environment that much, though he enjoyed being alone most of the times. If he didn't like it in that moment, it was because of everything that surrounded him: the TV, the remote... Every modern thing was complexe and it took several days for him to learn and understand them.

(Y/N) had also gifted him a "phone". Rumpletilskin was displeased about this and he remembered how in the evening the both of them had a rather loud and huge fight. He didn’t know why the Dark One had been furious about that item and he didn't bother to question it. Learning how to use a phone had been hard as well but (Y/N) had been right: phones were very useful. She would send a message whenever she would leave for a party and so he could sleep on both ears.

After the movie ended, he struggled to switch off the TV for several minutes. Then, he started to walk up to their shared bedroom and he opened the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. Of course, the cat was curling on his mattress and he groaned, as he tried to not wake her up.

Rumpletilskin had tasked him to clean up the attic. He tried to throw a fit, as he now prefered to read but he didn't dare to risk it. If he had done it, maybe he would have been punished and that was out of question. He still needed to hatch a plan to free Peter Pan and to get out of here.

He waited for the bucket to be full before taking it off the sink and started to walk toward the attic with no difficulty, being used to carry a huge club, it was no problem to carry a full bucket of steaming water up. Thinking back about his plan, he didn't know what to do actually. He didn’t know where Pan was, so maybe he should start snooping around to get this information.

But then what? He opened the door and closed it behind him. He let out a groan when he realised the room didn't have a working light, so he used his phone and put near a book so he could have some light when he was mopping the floor.

Coming back to what was bothering his mind, if he could find Pan first, that would be great but then what again? How could he free Pan? He didn't have any knowledge on magic. At least he knew that he was imprisoned in a magic box. Perhaps he could bribe (Y/N) into helping him? That seemed possible. He knew enough of her life now to use some information against her, but he felt bad and a bit upset when he thought about doing it.

The attic was full of unknown objects that scared him a little: there were, for example, jars filled with animals and… human parts. He quickly averted his eyes to something else. There was a broken piano again, in a much worse state than the one in the shop. There was a rose that didn't fade at all except for its colours. It was sad.

Something eventually caught his eyes: a transparent and long box, with something inside. He approached it slowly, trying not to make any noises. He let out a small admiring sound as he lightly touched the box.

Inside was a wand. It was sparkly, long, and rectangular, and it was shining under the light of the phone (Y/N) gifted him. He put the phone on the table beside the box and quickly opened it, feeling a very strange and strong urge to take it.

The wand felt light in his hands, as if it was weighing nothing. He felt instantly warm as well, and felt like he could move mountains or change the colour of the clouds. Is that how Peter felt when he was using his powers? Did he feel that warm and confident and giddy?

Maybe he could do magic after all? He had never tried, Pan never tried to teach him. He never spoke about teaching magic to him ever. It was like his secret. That way, maybe Felix could free him? They could both escape to Neverland if he knew magic. They would be stronger together.

Seeing something from the corner of his eyes suddenly, he moved around, branding the wand like it was a sword. However, something sparked from the wand and a small painting of a young girl caught fire.

"Shit!" Felix exclaimed as he went to the water bucket he had brought with him to clean the attic. He took an old blue vest that was laying there, dumped it into water and started hitting the painting with his full force. Then, he laid the vest down and sighed in relief when the fire didn't start again.

Finally, his gaze went back to the wand that he had thrown on the ground when he realised about the fire. Crouching down, he took it back delicately, afraid he had broken it. Maybe it was worth keeping… but he would definitely put it back in the box. He was certain Rumpletilskin wouldn't notice the absence of the wand from the attic: if it was there in the first place, it was probably to keep it out of sight and out of mind.

When he finished, he put the cleaning supplies back in the storage room and then went back to retrieve the wand. He put his Neverland's cloak around it so it was a bit hidden, and thought about putting it in his drawer. (Y/N) had kindly given him some space for his clothes and books, and he was sure she wouldn't feel the wand. Well, hopefully she won't.

The days went by again slowly and boringly. (Y/N) was never there and he wondered why. He felt hurt that she wouldn't want to spend time with him. Rumpletilskin was as charming as always but luckily Belle was here to cool things down. She cooked well too. It changed from what he usually ate.

Felix had been in charge of the shop several times as well. He was surprised the first time it happened. It seemed the Dark One started to trust him a little, which was good in a way. However, he didn't like how the old man would stare down at Sharon, the familiar, and instruct her to look after Felix. What could this cat do anyway? Meow and shit everywhere?

As he was rearranging the paperwork behind the counter, some accidentally fell when a draught pushed them down on the ground. He rolled his eyes, not noticing the strange moment he had felt as all the windows and the door were closed, crouched down and started to gather them quickly. He wanted to take a nap.

A box then fell to the ground.

He stopped breathing. He didn’t touch anything and that thing fell on his own. It was weird and it was freaking him out. Someone must be trying to scare him… but no one else than him was present in the shop.

"Sharon." He gently called the cat who came running and meowing. Was it strange for him to have her at his side in case something happened?

His hands were shaking but he gripped the wood box in his hands, not wanting to let it fall a second time. It was a plain and ordinary box but it had the shape of a music one. How strange again… He hesitated for several minutes until he opened it. Perhaps it was a bad idea but something inside him wanted it to happen.

As soon as he lifted the top of the box, he started to hear a little tune, and a little blond fairy wearing purple was spinning to the sound. He let out a nervous laughter, feeling silly for imagining the worst, like releasing a mystical beast.

He shouldn't have thought that.

In mere seconds, the fairy figure started to spin more and more intensely and faster. The box started to shake as well and it grew hot, eventually burning Felix's hands. He pushed the box on the counter and looked at Sharon who hissed in fright but stood in front of him protectively. Then, there was a bright light that blind him for several seconds and he was pushed against the wall by a burst of magic.

His ears were ringing too and he hesitated to open his eyes. He hoped no monster had been released or Rumpletilskin would kill him. He heard someone walking toward him and he realised his mistake. Yes, he was dead.

"My dear boy, what are you doing like this on the ground?" A soft voice asked and he was so surprised of sweet the person sounded as well that he felt he was dreaming. "Did I frighten you?"

He eventually opened his eyes and was astounded by what he was seeing. It was a beautiful woman. It was like she was surrounded by a halo of light as well. His eyes shyly went to her face, he felt like a child again. She was tall and slender, slim and very stunning. Her hair was blond and short with diamond hair clips shaped in flowers, and she had the same pattern on her necklace. Just like the fairy in the music box, she was a sheer purple dress that suited her well. She had a kind face, it made Felix more appeased of the situation. The woman made him feel trusted and loved and protected, and those feelings weren't really known to him.

"Dear child, how are you feeling?" She questioned as she approached him. The cat immediately went to rub herself on the newcomer, which Felix took for a good sign.

"I am... I am okay." He replied, despite his ears still ringing a little. "I guess I am."

"You are not the Dark One... Or are you the new one?" She then asked, and it looked like she suddenly tensed.

"No I am just..." He was a slave. "I am just working there. Freely."

Her eyes seemed to notice the bracelet on his wrist. He wanted to hide it away but her hands flew to his and she gently lifted it so she could inspect it. She had a sad look on her face after.

"My poor child, I am sorry this had happened to you. No one should force you to do anything."

Her voice was oh so reassuring. He wanted to hug her. Those urges were new to him and he felt bothered by them. So, he decides to ask her a few questions.

"Why were you in the music box?"

"The Dark One trapped me there." She answered as she placed the box on the counter. "To avoid me spoiling his plan I suppose. He must have messed with my god daughter..."

"Felix!"

(Y/N) bursted through the door, a fireball in her hand, ready to fight the stranger in the shop. The lost boy went in front of the woman and begged the young woman to not kill her yet.

"She is a intruder! Did she hurt you?" She then asked as she eyed the stranger. "I called Rumpletilskin he is coming."

"I can't believe it... When I left you... Oh." The woman gasped as she made her way toward them. "You... You are her daughter."

"Who the fuck are you?!" (Y/N) roared, placing Felix behind her.

"I am the Lilac Fairy. Your mother's fairy godmother."

There was a tensed silence after that. Felix looked worriedly at (Y/N) who wasn't moving but rather breathing heavily. He approached her and asked if she was feeling alright. Her eyes seemed to soften at his view but he realised that held such a furious wrath that he didn't dare to stand in her way.

"You are saying nonsense. Rumpletilskin helped my mother and in exchange she gave me to him."

"This is what he must have made you believed. I helped your mother to escape your grandfather when he wanted to marry her." The fairy started to recall as she stared with fondness to the younger woman. "Rumpletilskin had tried to get involved as well but I pushed him off many times. Unfortunately... I..."

"(Y/N)! Don't move, I am taking care of it!" A booming voice interrupted the fairy and a fireball went past Felix so fast he couldn't dodge it.

He hissed in pain as his arm had been burnt. He touched it and nearly threw up, smelling his burnt flesh. (Y/N) turned to him and hovered her hand above his injury and healed them in little time. He muttered a thank you as Rumpletilskin walked up to the fairy.

"What are you doing here?!" He screamed at her.

"That kind gentleman freed me."

"Felix?" The Dark One turned his head and glared at him. "We will talk about this later."

He gulped nervously, remembering the many threats the old man had pronounced towards him. He stepped back to the young woman who was looking between her father figure and the fairy. He felt bad suddenly for putting her through this. But how could he have known that the fairy was also the fairy godmother?

He should leave. Being here will make the situation worse, he didn't know the full story. But he also wanted to stay in order to support (Y/N) through this difficult moment.

"Rumple we have to talk." (Y/N) said in a serious tone, which was unfit for her personality. "She told..."

"She is lying."

"Why did you lie to this child?" The Lilac fairy then questioned the Dark One. "Why didn't you tell her the truth?"

He was probably afraid (Y/N) wouldn't like him as much as she did. The young woman seemed to love him like a father and respected him as well. Felix felt awkward and out of place: it was not his business, so he moved towards the back of the shop to give them some space. He was stopped by the Dark One who violently pushed him back.

"You...!" He pointed his finger at him and Felix froze. "We will speak about this once she disappears once and for all."

Felix wanted to justify himself, balling his fists in anger but he caught the Lilac fairy's eyes and he instantly calmed down.

"No. I want to hear what she has to say." (Y/N) said, as she desperately looked at the fairy as well. "My mom... she didn't want to give me up?" Her voice broke at the end.

"Of course not! She was a very sweet woman. How would she abandon her child to the hands of someone like the Dark One? What did you do to her?" The Lilac fairy asked Rumpletilskin who was quiet all of the sudden.

"Please just say something!" (Y/N) begged him, and she walked up to him. "Why did you lie to me? Why didn't you say anything about the fairy?"

"Because it was the only way to hide the truth to you. I... forced your parents to give you up." Rumpletilskin admitted. He sat down on the couch and sighed, rubbing his hands on his face. "I foresaw a child with strong magic and it was you. I had to... After Bae left me... I just wanted someone to transmit my knowledge."

"All those years you lied to me and said that my parents didn't care about me!" She screamed at him, in a rightful anger. "You used me!"

"I didn't use you! I love you like you are my own daughter!"

Felix was bothered to be there in that moment. It was obviously not his place, but... maybe he could comfort her after the argument. He glanced at the fairy who didn't seem sad or happy that Rumpletilskin was suffering and he wondered why.

"Where are you going?!" The Dark One exclaimed as (Y/N) left to the backroom without a word.

He quickly followed her, but she was walking so fast he had to run in order to catch her. She slammed her bedroom door in his face and he waited a moment before entering. The room was in a mess, more than usual. The young woman was putting clothes in a backpack furiously, mumbling something.

"What are you doing?" He asked softly.

"I am leaving."

"What?! You can't do that!" Felix protested, as he stood in the doorway, trying to trap her in the room. "You can't leave!"

"Of course I am leaving!" She snapped at him, and he swore he felt the walls and the ground shake as she spoke. "You have no idea how... how fucking furious I am! I want nothing to do with him, or the shop or the house!"

But what about him? Why would she do that to him? He closed the door behind him and practically jumped on her. He didn’t know how to hug people but he tried. He tried to make her feel that he liked her, that he didn't want her to leave him alone. He was praying intensely for his embrace to work.

She was not moving and he could feel her tensed up from the hug. Felix had never been a physical person, not enjoying the contact but he made an effort to show her he cared. She couldn’t leave. His head was on the top of hers and he closed his eyes, enjoying her perfume. He then felt gentle fingers rubbing his back up and down. He sighed in relief and perhaps in pleasure too. She wasn't leaving. She was sure of it.

"Felix… I have to leave." No she couldn't, he hugged a bit tighter but she got away by disappearing and reappearing close to him. "For my own mental health. It's… important for me."

"No! Just… Can't you just avoid him but stay herd?"

"Why do you care so much?" She asked abruptly, her eyes staring into his as if she was luring him into saying the truth.

"I… We are… acquainted. I care because you seem to care about me." He quickly spoke with a stammering voice.

She studied his face for a moment and then sighed. She went back to packing her bag and he knew it was over. (Y/N) decided that she was leaving and there was nothing or no one that could stop her. Felix sat down on her bed defeated.

"I need some space right now but… I still have my phone. I will text and call you. I promise." She shyly whispered as she walked over him and kissed his cheek, which made them both blush. "Take care of Sharon for me, will you? She will need someone good." She gave him a faint smile before taking her bag.

(Y/N) glanced one final time towards him and Felix still wanted to prevent her from disappearing. But her decision was unfortunately made. She winked at him and as he blinked, the young woman was gone.

Sucking a breath, he laid back on her bed and felt something salty rolling down his cheeks. He was crying. It was the first time in a very long time actually. The last time was when he had been kicked out, he was screaming and begging his parents to not abandon him. And there he was again: crying because he had been abandoned.

Sharon went into the room and seemed to search for her owner. But then she spotted him and climbed the bed. She started to purr and rub her head on his hand, wanting more pets. He chuckled sadly and turned on his side, cuddling the little black cat.

And he had completely forgotten about freeing Peter Pan and escaping to Neverland. All he cared about at that moment was (Y/N). She was the only thing he had in mind. He hated to admit that but… he clearly was in love with her.

[1kook]

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door.  warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.  

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.  

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?” 

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.  

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence. 

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

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Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[agirlwhoisaphantom]

Turning Page- Bucky Barnes x Reader

Turning Page- Bucky Barnes x Reader

a/n: This is a 3 part one shot. I wanted all parts to have their moment since there is going to be a bunch of fluff in them. Especially because they all take place at different times. This first part will be when you find out you are pregnant and you tell Bucky about it.

Words Count: 2300

Warnings: Fluff a lot of it. A hint of insecurity 

Summary: You have been feeling weird for the past couple of days. You decided to take a test and the results shocked you. Was telling Bucky about the results a great idea?

Hmm, the smell of freshly baked cookies surrounds you as you walk into the kitchen. Besides the smell of roses, your second favorite smell was the smell of homemade food. 

For the past three days, you haven’t felt the greatest. You had been vomiting, having random headaches, and you felt a very high fever. You didn’t think of it much. You must have been getting the cold or the flu.

You loved eating Chinese food, but for the past three days, whenever you wanted to eat it, you would immediately vomit it. You tried getting the food from different places, but it always led to the same results.

Searching your symptoms on the internet wasn’t the greatest idea, but you were just curious about what you might have.

Early signs of pregnancy

Signs that you might be Pregnant

Symptoms of the Flu

Those were your main results when you googled your symptoms. The one that made the most sense to you was that you might have the flu. Then it clicked to you. You and Bucky have never used protection, especially because you are on the pill. So you weren’t concerned about the lack of condoms. 

“Could I have been pregnant” “No, it can’t be” “what if I was? How will I tell Bucky?” your heart started to race faster and faster as your mind started to wonder if you were pregnant. You go through a roller coaster of emotions. You were excited, terrified, happy, sad, worried, every emotion in the book. Happy because you and Bucky have been talking about wanting to start your own little family. You were terrified because what if he didn’t want to have a kid this early? What would happen to Bucky? Would he quit? That was never something that popped up for the both of you.

Wanda walks into the room with a worried look on her face. “I don’t want to be that person, but I can hear your thoughts miles away. Is everything alright?” she takes a seat next to where you were sitting. She takes your hand and tries to comfort you. “I can go buy you a couple of tests if that brings your mind to ease.” you give her a small nod. She leans in forward to hug you. “I’ll be back. Wait right here and try to relax.” 

The moment she left the room, you go to the bathroom and start preparing for a bath. You stare at yourself in the mirror, looking at your lower stomach. You were able to see a small bump. You place your hand on your stomach. Now you were fantasizing, what if you were pregnant? Would it be a mini you or a mini James? 

You had the biggest smile at the thought that you might be carrying a baby in your stomach. 

You lower your body into the warm bath full of bubbles. You now felt relaxed. All you could focus on was the playlist that Bucky created for you, full of music that reminded him of you. The playlist went from 40’s music to present-day songs. Your mind wanders back to that day, where he was showing you the playlist he created for you.

You both were cuddling on the couch watching Star Wars: Empire Strikes Back. Your head was lying on his right shoulder and your arms wrapped around his bicep. Bucky looked confused watching the movie “so this is what you and Peter enjoy watching?” 

“Yes, this is a good movie, and if you don’t be quiet, I’m going to throw a handful of popcorn towards you” you giggled a little. You were serious. If he didn’t stay quiet, you were going to do that.

He turns his head, pressing his lips against your forehead. “Doll, I would like to see you try,” He whispers as he maintains his lips pressed on your skin. 

Without hesitation, you take a handful of popcorn and throw it to his face. He does the same thing and throws popcorn at you. At this point, you both forgot about the movie and focused on just throwing each other popcorn. There were shared laughs and smiles between the two of you.

Bucky moves to the floor, grabbing the pillow next to him, trying to protect himself. You grab the pillow next to you as well. 

Minutes pass by, and now the living room looked like a mess. It seemed like a popcorn machine has just exploded. The bowl that you and Bucky were getting popcorn was now empty.

You both were trying to catch your breath. From all the laughter you both had. Bucky gets back up and sits on the couch. He put his right arm around your shoulder. 

“Now, how are we going to watch the movie without popcorn?” you cross your arms and have a small frown on your face.

With his metal hand, he unwraps your arms and takes your left hand. He brings it up to his lips and softly kisses it “that sounds like a problem, doesn’t it doll?” he had a small smirk on his face.

You ignored him and snarky comment. It did make you giggle a little. 

Once the movie ended, Bucky reaches to his pocket and takes out his phone. “Doll, I have a surprise for you” his voice got small and a bit shaky. He was always nervous about giving you a present. He would always think that you wouldn’t like it.

He scratches his head, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to give this to you. It was something different it wasn’t the usual thing that he has given you. Such as flowers or food.

You notice how tense he was, so you place your hand on his cheek. You slowly move your thumb against his skin. “Baby, no matter what it is. I know I’m going to love it” you nodded briefly with a small smile on your face.

He takes a big gulp, but he was a bit more relaxed than he was a couple of minutes ago. “okay,” there is a small pause in between. He was unsure if he wanted to continue “Just to let you know Peter helped me create this since he knows more about this magic box than I do” he gave a brief giggle and hands you the phone “look for the app called Spotify, and there should be a playlist with your name on it.” 

You always found it cute that he never knew how the technology worked, but he was always willing to learn for you, as you scroll through the apps trying to find Spotify. The moment you opened the app, there it was the playlist made for you. The name of it was “songs that remind me of my angel.” You clicked on the playlist to see what songs it had. The playlist had over 100 songs.

Tears start falling down your cheeks. You were happy. You couldn’t believe that he had done this for you. 

Bucky had a concerned look on his face. “Doll, no, don’t start crying.” His voice was shaky, and he started to panic slowly. He intended never to make you cry.

You place both of your hands on his cheeks and pull him in for a kiss. As you both were kissing, you get on top of him, leaving no space in between the two of you. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer. 

You pull away for a moment. “Thank you, Bucky. I love it”

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

You hear a knock on your door. “Hey, I’m back from the store with the tests” You sighed in relief. It was Wanda. 

You rapidly get out of the bathtub and grab a towel to wrap yourself in. “You can come in, Wanda.”

Wanda opens the door and places the tests on the countertop. She grabs a towel “turn around. I want to help you dry your hair” you listened to her and let her dry your hair. “I don’t know how you might feel, but one thing I will reassure you about is that no matter what the results may say. Bucky is always going to love you.” 

With what Wanda has just told you, it put your mind at ease. She was right. No matter what, he was always going to be there. You take Wanda’s hand “can you stay here with me while I take these?” you had a small smile on your face as she gives you a nod.

You put on your PJs. You didn’t want to stay in a towel anymore. Opening the box, you can feel your heart racing, a hundred beats a minute. 

The moment you took the test, you stared at it. You were waiting for the results to pop up. On the box, it said to wait for five minutes. To you, those five minutes felt like an eternity. You wanted to know, and you wanted to know now.

Positive.

Two dark blue lines, you started at those lines for a couple of minutes. Those minutes felt like they were hours. You wanted to make sure you weren’t delusional and that you saw those lines. The results on that little stick were positive. You were pregnant, something you thought wasn’t possible. But it happened, your heart full of joy and love. You were going to be a mom, and Bucky was going to be a dad. The little family you both, have dreamt for years is finally happening. 

Before telling Bucky about the news, you wanted to feel confident about the results. Lucky, the pregnancy test box that Wanda bought had two inside. You take a big breath before you take it, just in case if those results were negative. You didn’t want to your hopes up. You take the second test, and the same dark blue lines from earlier show up. Once again, your heart fills up with happiness, joy, but mainly love.

You couldn’t wait till Bucky came home. You were so excited to tell him. 

Wanda didn’t have to ask you about your results. She already knew, especially because you had the biggest smile on your face. 

Hours pass by, you were thinking about how you were going to tell him. “Should I just tell him the moment he walks in?” “no, that would catch him by surprise” “Should I-?” your thoughts were running wild. Before you knew it, the door was opening.

Bucky throws his bag onto the couch. He looked exhausted; it looked like he had a very long day. You run towards him and hug him tightly. “Woah, Woah, looks like someone missed me” He holds you and gently kisses your head. 

He grabs your hand and starts walking towards the direction where the couch was. He sits down and pats his thigh as he wants you to sit on his lap. The moment you sat down, he wraps his arms around you. “I’m glad that I’m finally holding my baby girl in my arms.” Whenever he would call you his baby girl, your cheeks would turn bright red with the biggest smile. “I can’t get enough of that beautiful smile of yours. Such a sweet smile that lights up your whole face” He places his hand on your cheek and pulls you in for a kiss. 

You lay your head on his shoulder. You were taking a big breath before you said anything. Once again, your heart was racing. “Bucky,” there was a small pause. You wanted to make sure you said the right words and that he would be able to hear you. “I’m pregnant.” 

Silence 

You could hear his heartbeat increase. You were unsure what face he had. You didn’t know what emotion he was portraying. All you could feel and hear is the sounds of his heartbeat dramatically increase. 

The silence lasted for minutes. “Oh no, did I do the wrong thing by telling him?” you thought. You hated the silence. Your stomach started twisting and turning.

Bucky takes a big breath and places his hand on your lower stomach. “are we-“ he pauses for a moment, his voice got small and shaky, “are we going to be parents?” He starts to slowly move his hand in circular motions on your stomach.

You left up to your head from his shoulder and looked at him. He had the biggest smile on his face, tears forming in his eyes. He was happy. He knew the answer you were going to say without saying a word. Just the look on your face said it all. 

Bucky places his hand behind your head, slowly running his fingers through your hair. He pulls you in, pressing his lips against yours. It felt like time has stopped for the both of you. All you could focus on was how soft he felt against your lips, how addictively he invaded all your senses. 

You both were kissing like there was no tomorrow and as if your lives were dependent on it. Bucky tongue slips inside your mouth, gentle but yet so demanding. Even though this wasn’t the first time he had done that, it always felt like it was. This was the type of kiss that melted you into his arms, every square inch of your body dissolves into his. Moving your hand from his neck to his hair, you grip his hair, pulling him closer. 

Without breaking the kiss, he pushes you gently onto the couch. Now you were lying down. Meanwhile, he was on top of you. He pulled away for a moment and had the cutest smile on his face “Baby girl. We are going to be parents” you give him that same smile and give him a small nod.

[the-broken-truth]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do the Dimitrescus and Donna with a 👨 reader that likes to spoil them.

Broken Truth: Oh - A man who loves to spoil his woman. This will be interesting. *STATIC*, any ideas?

*STATIC*: Wine for Alcina, Rare Books for Bela, A Collection of Torment Devices for Cassandra, New Weapons for Daniela, and Fine Silks & Doll Parts for Donna.

Broken Truth: Thanks. Now, let the words weave together!

[Alcina Dimitrescu - Why One When You Can Have All?]

Delivery Woman: Here's your shipment, Mr. Dimitrescu-[L/N]. If I could just get your signature right here. (Holds out a clipboard with a signature paper on it)

[Y/N] (Takes the clipboard with a smile): Of course. (Places his signature in person cursive writing before handing the clipboard back) Here you go.

Delivery Woman (Takes the clipboard, looks at it, and smiles with a nod): Thank you. (Places her hand on the earpiece to speak to the pilot in the helicopter above her) Set it down gently and unhook the attachment.

[The Delivery Woman & Lord of the Castle watched as the helicopter above them slowly lowered the large crate that was attached by a strong cable to the ground before the castle doors. Once the crate hit the ground, the pilot pushed a button, and the cable detached from the crate. The woman gave the man a handshake before she walked over to the ladder to climb back up and the helicopter flew away as the Lord of the Castle looked at the large crate for a while before he heard the castle door open and his wife, plus his 3 daughters, walked out.]

[Y/N] (Looks at them): There you are, I was just about to come looking for you, Alcina.

Alcina (Walks down the stairs and looked at the large crate - that was taller than her): Darling, what is this large crate.

[Y/N] (Smiles): I'm glad you asked! (Opens the padlock on the side with the key the woman gave him, pushes the large crate door open to see the large crate is filled with smaller packing crates - he takes one & uses a crowbar to open it, revealing...numerous bottles of wine?!)

Alcina (Her eyes lit up as she gasps and reached down to pick up one of the bottles of wine): Darling, is all of this wine?

[Y/N] (Smirks): But of course! Remember that room I was working on? It's your new personal wine room and what's a wine room without wine? Thus, I brought one of each wine in the world!

Alcina (Looks at all the wine then back at her husband): Darling, you didn't need to spend so much. 10 bottles would have been enough.

[Y/N]: Why one when you can have all?

[Bela Dimitrescu - Wise Words For The Wise]

[Y/N] (Talking to a delivery man outside the main door of Castle Dimtirescu - who's pushing a rather large box to the Lover of the Proxy of House Dimitrescu): Thank you.

Delivery Man (Looks at the signed clipboard and tilts his hat to the noble): No problem, Lord [L/N]-Dimitrescu. Thanks for doing business with us.

[The Delivery Man turned on his heel and began to walk down the castle stairs as the Lover of Bela Dimitrescu closed the door and looked at the massive box before him with a smile - his next task: Getting the box up the stairs and to the special room.]

[Elsewhere in the castle: The Blonde-Haired Heiress of House Dimitrescu was looking up and down the castle halls for the man that stole her heart but she was having a hard time finding him. She happened to run into her youngest sister and asked if she had seen the [H/C]-Haired man, the red-haired woman informed her sister that he could be found in the room he bought from Alcina. Raising her eyebrow, Bela dispelled into a cluster of flies and headed in that direction, completely missing the snicker on her youngest sister's face.]

[Upon reaching the floor the room was located on - Bela reformed from the flies that made her and began to glide down the hallway; the closer she got to the room, the sounds of grunting and things being moved around could be heard. She reached for the knob of the room and turned it before pushing it open and her eye widened at the sight - the room was beautiful. The 4 walls that made up the room were replaced with bookshelves and each of those shelves was filled with books. There was a single lounging chair with a footstool and a large reading lamp that was overhead of the chair. On the right of the chair was a small stand with a crystal jar filled with wine and a single glass. The sound of her name being called made her snap from her trance.]

[Y/N] (Sliding the last book in place): Oh, Bela! I wasn't expecting you to find this place so soon. Dani must have spilled the beans.

Bela (Confused): What? Dani knew what you were doing in here? Why did you tell her but not me?

[Y/N] (Raises his eyebrow): It wouldn't have been a surprise if I told you about what I was planning.

Bela: Surprise? (Eyes widen) Wait, this is for me?

[Y/N] (Smiles): Of course it is. I've noticed how much you love to read but you're always interrupted by Cassandra and Daniela's Roughhousing, so I decided to make you your own little space to enjoy your books and filled it with bestsellers from my world!

Bela (Looks around the room with stars in her eyes): All this...for me?

[Y/N] (Walks over to her and places his hands on her shoulders): Wise words for the wise, My Beloved Knowledge Seeker.

[Cassandra Dimitrescu - Which Do You Want To Try First?]

[He knew that his beloved was getting bored with the same methods of torment for the trespassers and tainted maidens of Castle Dimitrescu - A Bored Cassandra made a Pissed-Off [Y/N] & he was going to fix that. How? By giving his lover some new toys to play with and punish people with. He went to the Duke - who seemed to have anything and everything you needed right there in his carriage - and asked the fat man if he had any blueprints for torment devices. Chuckling, the Duke told the man that he came across a man who made blueprints of the torture devices another man made to test the will to live of unworthy people and managed to convince him to part with them for a fair sum of coin. [Y/N] smiled like the Cheshire Cat at this news and offered to buy those plans from Duke right then and there, the fat man smiled and gave the plans to [Y/N] for a discounted price and told him that if he needs metal or tools, he could get those for him if he had the coin - he had the coin and paid it right then and there.]

[For the last 3 months - Alcina told the girls not to go in the cellar because there was 'construction' going on down there. Cassandra was curious because her lover had been working in the cellar for long hours and returned to her covered in oil and rush. On the last week of the 3rd month - [Y/N] treated his girl to a movie marathon of the famous horror-thriller genre 'SAW'. Cassandra was in love with the traps and that just made the man's smile get wider and wider the larger his wife's eyes got.]

[The next morning during breakfast - [Y/N] announced that he was done with the project he was taking care of in the basement and asked Cassandra to come with him to see it; a smirk slithered on Alcina's face as she asked if she and her other 2 daughters could see as well, he said yes. The Dimitrescu Family walked down to the cellar and their eyes lit up as new torment devices laid before them - it was like seeing new presents for Christmas.]

[Y/N] (Looks at Cassandra with a smile on his face): Darling, I've noticed you were getting bored with your constant methods of torment, so I decided you needed some new toys to play with and - yes - these are the same models from the SAW Movies we watched the night before.

Cassandra (Throws her arms around her lover and kisses him): Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! This is going to be perfect!

[Y/N] (Smiles at Cassandra): Anything and everything for my fire-spark. Now, a question: Which do you want to try first?

[Daniela Dimitrescu - Blade Or Bullet?]

[If there was one thing [Y/N] knew about this red-haired wife it was that she loved weapons; all kinds of weapons. From the shortest of blades to the loudest of guns, any kind of weapon would bring a smile to her face; thus, bring a smile to his face.]

[He was going through this phone one day when he noticed a large collection of weapons was going for auction from the heard of Romania, he signed up and risked every Lei he had for the woman he loved more than life itself. When he ended up winning, he gave the address of the castle - most people knew it as the High Preistess' Village - and was told to wait for 3 to 4 weeks for the collection to be procured and delivered.]

[On the fourth week - Daniela was snuggling with her lover in front of the fire when there was a knock at the castle doors, one of the nearby maids bowed to excuse herself and walked to the door to open it - coming face to face with a man in a strange suit.]

Maid: May I help you?

Strange Man: Yes. Is there are Lady Daniela Dimitrescu & Lord [Y/N]-Dimitrescu here?

Maid (Raises her eyebrow): Yes but what do you want with the Lord and Lady?

Strange Man: I have a package for Lady Daniela Dimitrescu and the package requires Lord [Y/N] [L/N]-Dimitrescu's Signature.

[The Maid raised her eyebrow again before asking the man to wait a moment before closing the door and relaying the message to Daniela and [Y/N] - The former of whom looked confused while the latter had a large smile across his face. The two of them walked out of the castle to meet the man - due to the cold weather, [Y/N] got Dani a very warm coat to keep her safe from the ice. He handed [Y/N] a clipboard and pen for the man to sign the papers and once they were signed, he handed the Lord a stack of papers.]

Stange Man: These are the Proof of Authenticity for each and every one of your purchases, My Lord. (Reaches into his pocket and pulled out a golden key) And here is the key to unlocking your purchases, My Lord.

[Y/N] (Takes the key with a smile): Thank you, Kind Soldier. You are dismissed.

[The Soldier gave the Lord, Lady, and Maid a salute before turning on his heel and walking back to his vehicle where his comrades were waiting for him and drove away.]

Daniela (Looking at the large box that towered over her): Love, what the hell is this box?

[Y/N] (Smirking): Good question. (Hands Dani the key) Why don't you open it and find out?

[Raising her eyebrow - the Youngest of the Dimitrescu Daughters walked over to the large lock and inserted the key to open it, removed it from the loop, and pushed to box open. Her jaw began to fall as they laid upon the most amount of weapons she has ever seen in her life.]

[Y/N]: A Question, Darling: Blade or Bullet? Answer: You never have to choose again because you now own them all.

[Donna Beneviento - More Refined Than The Finest Silks]

Donna (Walking down the stairs - without her veil - looking for her husband but finds her Doll Companion - Angie - fiddling with her 'Father's' phone): Angie, do you know where [Y/N] is?

Angie (Looks up from the phone): He said he had to head into the village to get something from the Duke; he left in a hurry so it must have been important.

Donna (Raised her eyebrow): The Duke?

Angie: Yeah, he got a letter from the Duke saying that the 'package' he ordered had arrived and he dropped his phone and ran out of the house to pick it up.

[Donna was concerned for a moment - not because she thought her husband was up to something, she always knew that she could rely on him to remain faithful to her and only her - but she noticed that he didn't take his short blade for protection. Karl already informed the Lycans to leave him alone but ever since [Y/N] killed the Alpha, the Lycans loved to attack him to see if one of them could take him down to see how would be the next alpha of the pack. Donna's worries melted away when the door opened and her husband walked in with 2 small - enough to fit under his arms - but big - large enough to make it hard for him to carry - boxes under both his arms. He smiled at Donna and he waddled to the table in the dining room and placed the large wooden boxes on the table.]

[Y/N] (Panting): Sorry for not telling you where I was going, when Duke wrote to me to inform me that he had the package, I was too excited.

Donna (Walks over him and places her hand on his chest): That's understandable, My Love, but what was so important about these packages?

[The mad said nothing - only smiled as he became to open the boxes on the right then the box on the left before throwing the lids off and Donna's eyes widened at the contents of the boxes. The first box was filled to the brim with fine rolls of silk in various colors while the 2nd box contained the parts of dolls but made from a very lovely & pale but smooth wood.]

Donna (Looks at her husband): Darling... what is this?

[Y/N]: When I went into town, Duke told me that you were asking him when he would be able to get some new wood to make your doll parts but he didn't have an answer. So I purchased fine silks and parts from another place and asked Duke to pick them up for me.

Donna: But...Why would you do this for me?

[Y/N] (Places his hand on Donna's chin to make her look into his eyes): Because, My Love, you are more refined than the finest silks and there is nothing I won't do for you.

[End]

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 1

I'm finally back with some more rowaelin! I started this fic in november last year and wrote the first 10k in 24 hours, but from then on this fic was a struggle... Thank you so, so much to @morganofthewildfire for sharing so much of your time to help me with this, this fic would not be here without you 💗 I'm so happy to have finally finished it and can share it on here. I hope you enjoy

CW: past drug abuse, minor character death, violence

7.7k - masterlist - ao3

--

When her agent sends her the script it’s not the first time she’s heard of Rowan Whitethorn, his name is written at the top under the heading director, which itself is under the big red text reading confidential. He’s been at this stuff for a while now, directed a couple of movies that popped up on her radar but that nothing ever came of for her, and he’s well known in the business.

He was even nominated for an Oscar a couple of years ago, and she watched the ceremony with Lysandra, slapping the bills into her outstretched hand when he didn’t win.

His movie had been far too fucking raw for him to have won, she knew that, a tale about a group of kids who witnessed a murder and how it stayed with them and fucked them up into adulthood, but it had stuck with her nonetheless and she’d put her money on him anyway.

She reads the section of script Dorian has sent her, tucked up in bed with a glass of sparkling water and her most comfortable sweater, leaning back into the mountain of expensive pillows she had Elide buy for her and pondering how so much money could end up so uncomfortable, and she knows it’s something special.

She realises she wants this role, almost to an uncomfortable degree, when she’s about five lines in. The heroine is bratty and rash, but serious and pained in a way that makes her completely fleshed out and Aelin wants to play her, wants to be her and embody her in a way that takes her out of the pit she’s in.

She hopes this could be what gets her out of it.

Aedion had tried to pull her out, gods bless him, dropping by her apartment every morning for weeks to check up on her with a coffee in his hand, topped with cream and two sugars the way he knows she likes. Each morning he let himself in with her spare key, the one she gave to him the day she moved in, wanting him to be able to let himself in whenever he wanted but also knowing there was no one else she wanted to give it to.

She would have given it to Sam, would have given everything to Sam, but he’s gone and she’s left sitting here, wondering how to salvage what’s left of her reputation.

What reputation she had even managed to build after starring in one mediocre TV show and a handful of low-budget movies. She knows deep down, and in a way her brain likes to remind her of when she’s at her lowest, that the main reason she isn’t a complete nobody is because she’s Evalin Ashryver’s daughter. Her therapist tells her every time she bothers to go to a session that having a famous mother doesn’t mean she’s a failure and that she has to recognise each of her successes as her own. She nods along every time, but she doesn’t believe her. What has she managed to accomplish truly on her own?

It hasn’t been made public yet that Rowan Whitethorn is involved in the film, she only knows because Chaol wrote the whole script himself and texted her to let her know when he signed on to direct. She’s known Chaol since she was eighteen and took her first solo trip to Rifthold, drawn to the lights of the big city and the almost magnetic pull of the heart of the industry. He’d stumbled upon her in a club she was far too young to be in and had pulled her out, sending her home in a cab that he paid for. Looking back she was grateful for his attempt to avoid what she knew later was an inevitability.

She had cursed him when he told her she’d still have to audition, but she gets it. She hasn’t exactly behaved in a way recently that makes people want to take a chance on her.

Stumbling out of clubs, eyes as wide as saucers and high as a fucking kite isn’t the kind of star casting directors are desperate to hire, but she’s trying to be better. She’s promised those around her that she’ll be better, and she knows that the only reason she hasn’t ended up in rehab is that she has an incredible therapist and a highly persuasive manner of dealing with her friends and family. The only reason they’ve taken that chance on her is time, and she’s grateful for that mercy.

She turns the page, hitting the final line for the third time. Chaol’s script is so good she’s read the few pages she’s been sent over and over.

She only reads scripts in physical copies, takes the time to print them out using her shitty printer that belongs right back in 2008, and she knows it’s wasteful but she allows herself that small luxury of the crisp paper in her hand as she delves into each new world. Her character is in the middle of a teary monologue that she knows exactly how she’d do, the way she’d halt her breath and choke out the words-- it’s not her character. Yet.

The audition is next week, and she’ll work her ass off to make sure she’s ready. Her usual pre-audition ritual involves taking up far too much of Lysandra’s time to practice reading the lines and filming herself time after time, take after take, and watching it back in the unholy hours of night until she’s happy she’s made an improvement.

Or at least that’s how she used to do it, nothing has made her want a role like this in a long while. She worries as she bites her lip, that wanting something this much means she’s getting over Sam. That maybe one day she won’t think of him and hear the pounding in her ears, won’t feel the lightheadedness that comes with a memory of their time together. Worries that if she forgets the sounds of his screams she’s failing him somehow.

She takes another sip of her sparkling water. It’s poured into a wine glass so she can at least pretend she’ll get the relaxation she craves. Alcohol was never one of her vices but she finds it’s better to be safe than sorry. It’s unhealthy as far as coping mechanisms go, but she’s been worse so it’s going down as a win.

Chaol told her some guy called Brullo is casting this one. She’s never heard of him, which is kind of rare. She’s been on the periphery of this bubble for pretty much her entire life, following her mother around her own movie sets and sitting on the wooden directors chair when her legs still dangled off the side, but if he’s like any other casting director in Adarlan she knows how to impress him.

When she reaches the last line of the part of the script she’s been sent, her mind wanders again to Rowan Whitethorn.

He’s the kind of director up and coming actors can only hope to one day work with, even though she’s pretty sure he can’t be much more than thirty, he’s built himself to a level where he can be choosy with his projects.

It's a well deserved privilege. Each of his works has stayed with her after watching, his style is gritty and dark, but grounded in a way that leaves her empty each time after finishing.

She wants this, and she buries the guilt she feels for that. Sam would want her to want this. She deserves it, or at least she hopes she can come to.

Dorian books her a mid-morning flight so she doesn’t have to wake too early before the audition, he’s a damn good agent and one she definitely doesn’t deserve with his seemingly endless patience, but she’s continuously grateful for him.

Aelin styles herself for it, ties her hair back and leaves the makeup to a minimum in a way that she hopes shows them she’s right for the part, that she can be the insecure little girl who experiences far too much. She knows she doesn’t have the sheltered innocence the character has, but she’s an actress and this is what she does. Aelin pretends for a living.

He’s also booked her a room in a pretty nice hotel for the night, she’s not sure whether he’s used her meagre acting funds or the funds from the account she knows he mom throws money into every month. It’s an argument she and Evalin have had repeatedly, she wants to stand on her own two feet, but she never protests too hard. The account kept the roof over her head when she was too busy snorting her life away to consider where her next paycheck would come from.

Aelin throws herself backwards into the crisp white bedding on the hotel room bed and takes a deep breath. The only luggage she brought with her is a carry on slung somewhere by the door and the room feels too empty to sit here and wait for the car that’s arriving to take her to the studio in just over an hour. If she sits here and waits the nerves will only build, and then she’ll itch for something to take the edge off.

She picks her phone up to text her cousin.

Jet lag from a 2 hour flight. Who would have thought?

Aelin waits two minutes for a reply, locking and unlocking her phone as she sits there, but one doesn’t come. Aedion’s probably at a training session and not checking his phone. Aelin runs a hand through her hair, careful not to dislodge the pins she placed carefully in it this morning, she needs to stop using him as her crutch. She knows he doesn’t mind, but it’s not right either way.

She needs to get out of this room.

The streets of Rifthold are busy and crammed as she meanders down them, clutching the takeout coffee cup she bought from a vendor with a stall at the side of the road.

People pay her no mind as she walks, the oversized shades hide her eyes that she knows are a dead giveaway for her membership of the Ashryver line. Even if she didn’t wear them, everybody else here wants to be someone, and so far she can still blend in if she tries.

She sends a text to the assistant organising the audition, it’s kind of shitty of her but she keeps it brief because she can’t remember their name, letting them know the car isn’t needed anymore and that she’ll make her own way there. She needs the stroll through the streets to clear her head.

Aelin needs to nail it. She hasn’t felt the twisting of desire so sharp in her stomach for a long time and the only way she’ll manage it is with a clear head.

She alternates her breathing with sips of her coffee, the taste is bitter but she keeps drinking. She pulls her phone out to check the directions to the studio.

Spontaneous isn’t a word Aelin would use to describe herself anymore, any longing to go with the flow died the minute she lost control. It’s safer now to plan, to make sure she won’t lead herself astray.

Brullo is a man in his mid forties, with dashes of grey seasoned through his muddy brown hair, and kind lines around his eyes as he smiles and shakes her hand. Aelin wipes the sweat off her palm on her jeans before clasping her hand in his.

The audition goes about as well as she can hope for, she remembers every line, and the other casting director is fairly natural reading the lines for her to act against. Aelin swallows back her tears after she finishes, trying to keep what dignity she can to end the audition when there’s snot threatening to run down her upper lip. It was a brutal scene to start with, but if she can pull this off she can surely manage the rest.

Brullo’s expression is carefully guarded as she leaves, giving nothing away, but Aelin thinks she did a good job, which is all she could have ever hoped for.

She’s staring at the tiled floor, mulling over Brullo’s parting words, thanks Aelin, our people will be in touch, when she hits something hard and warm.

She’s too busy dissecting those eight words to register exactly who it is with their hands clamped around the top of her arms, steadying her as she stumbles, but she looks up and her gaze meets that of a pair of striking, green eyes.

The man gripping her is easily over a head taller than her, broad and strong enough that she fights back the shiver that wants to roll through her at his touch. He’s staring down at her, the strong planes of his face drawn into a deep frown, with his strangely coloured eyebrows pulled in.

They’re a kind of silver that matches his short cut hair, and it shines in the fluorescent light of the hallway in a way that it can only be natural, but she’s never seen a shade quite like it.

“Sorry,” she manages to stutter out, still thrown from the vulnerability of her audition.

“It’s alright.” His voice burns through the words, his accent rolling in a way that raises hairs down the back of her neck. He flashes her a dangerous grin and she steadies herself. She knows what that look means. She’s used to the male attention, and as much as she hates to acknowledge it, she knows her looks are an element of how she’s got as far as she has. That and her family’s name.

The decision of whether to register in the guild as Aelin Ashryver or Aelin Galathynius was one she had spent hours deliberating over. Did she want the level of independence Galathynius would give her, or the reputation being an Ashryver would bring?

The man releases his grip on her shoulders, but not before running his hands down her arms until he reaches her wrists which he releases with a light squeeze. She takes an almost imperceptible step back, leaning back to breathe some air into her lungs. All she ends up doing is filling her mind with this man’s smell, inviting and intoxicating, a delicious combination of pine trees and snowy winter mornings.

“I don’t usually go around slamming into people like this,” she tells him, letting some of her snark slip through. He’s said two words to her so far but she knows he can take it, and she wants to play.

His grin becomes even more wicked and it truly is a sight to see. This man is built like a god; broad, muscular shoulders stretching the white button up he wears and she spies the dark lines of a tattoo threatening to slip past his collar.

It’s been a couple of months since her last mindless hook-up, and this man would more than do. The mischief glimmering in his eyes tells her he’d know how to make her gasp and beg.

“Slam into me anytime.” His words are a sensual croon and her mouth drops open slightly, but he sidesteps her before she can manage to speak again, nodding towards the door she’s come through. “Good luck with whatever you were here for.”

With that he’s gone, leaving her to turn and watch the way his grey slacks pull against his thighs as he walks away from her.

Aelin tries not to think too much about the outcome of the audition, and flies back to Orynth in economy class with a sleep mask tucked over her eyes lest she be recognised when all she wants to do is curl up in bed and be alone for a bit. That or get fucking wasted, and she can’t do that.

She tries far too hard to forget about the man from the hallway, forget about the way his voice had rumbled deep in her chest and the tug in her belly that his words had sent through her.

She begs Elide to come to a bar with her, and she agrees. Aelin needs to pay her more, maybe change her title from publicist to publicist-come-part-time-therapist-and-life-saver. Aelin’s not sure she has the budget for that really.

Elide would smack her if she knew Aelin’s thoughts. Would scold her for looking at Elide just like an employee as if they weren’t childhood friends and Elide hadn’t been there holding her hand through the whole Sam thing. As if she, Lysandra and Aedion hadn’t been her only reason for being here now.

A bar might be a risk, but she can sip her sparkling water while she browses the small selection of men that Orynth has to offer.

She enjoys the easy conversation she has with Elide, chatting about what their friends have been up to, even though most of them are mainly Elide’s friends at this point. After Sam she stopped speaking to everyone but those who were necessary. She couldn’t manage any more than that.

“You should come with us next time,” Elide is saying as she sips her own lemonade. Aelin knows Elide would normally choose a crisp glass of white wine over a lemonade and her sobriety solidarity touches her heart.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, noncommittal.

The look Elide wears tells her she’s debating pushing the issue for the millionth time against the risk that Aelin would pull back again. She hates that she does this to her friends so she sighs.

“Text me next time,” she tries. “I’ll see if I’m free.”

Elide offers her a thankful smile, and Aelin returns it, trying to tell herself this is what she needs and that she shouldn’t just stay locked up thinking about Sam.

There’s a dark haired guy at the bar catching her eye, his jeans are far too tight and his shirt is ridiculous, but she can see the body beneath and his face is striking. Elide notices her stare and smirks.

She likely knows why Aelin invited her out tonight, but doesn’t mind. Lorcan’s probably waiting for her at the home they share, waiting for her to come back so they can be in love. Aelin hates the bastard, except she doesn’t. She introduced her friend to the tall, dark and grouchy hockey player at the wrap party for the shit teen movie she did a couple of years back, and she’s big enough to admit she wants what they have.

She had what they have.

What’s left in her glass slips down her throat easily in one mouthful and she promises to text Elide tomorrow before slipping out of the booth and over to the guy at the bar.

“You going to just stare at me all night?” She asks with a sly smile. “Or did you plan on doing something about it at some point?”

His smile makes him look even more attractive.

“Maybe I was waiting for you to make the first move, a beautiful girl like you can be intimidating.”

It’s a shit line and she rolls her eyes, but tugs him into a cab back to her place anyway.

“Please.” Her voice shakes as she begs. “Please don’t do this.”

The man in front of them scoffs and Sam squeezes her hand, his palm rough against her own.

“Aelin, baby. It’s okay, just do what he says.”

He lets go of her hand and turns back to the guy in front of them. His face is covered by a black mask, only two slits show her the dark brown of his eyes. She can barely look away from the knife he holds out in front of himself, it’s pointed at Sam but that doesn’t make her feel any better, it makes her feel worse in fact.

“Your wallet,” the guy demands.

Tears are rolling down her cheeks, fat and hot, as she fishes around in her bag for her purse.

“Just dump the whole thing,” the guy growls, irritated, but she’s pretty sure she’s going into shock and she can’t focus. Can’t breathe.

Sam’s voice is steady by her side as he throws his own wallet onto the street in front of them.

“Alright, man. We’re doing everything you say.”

“Hands up.” The mugger’s voice is sharp. “Don’t fucking move.”

She raises her arms straight in the air, trying to control the way her hands are shaking and the attacker ducks down to grab their things.

She lets out a tiny whimper and feels Sam spin to her, his eyes begging her to trust him. No, she shakes her head.

“I said don’t fucking move,” the guy yells and lunges for Sam.

His scream cuts the night air and she whirls, hands dropping into the air between them as he drops to the ground. The mugger takes off, sprinting down the empty street and she falls to her knees by Sam’s side.

In the dark, the pool spilling out across the floor by Sam’s side just looks black, but she knows that really it’s red. She’s not stupid. His face is twisted in pain and her hands flutter around his torso before she manages to pull back the flap of his jacket.

There’s a hole in his white t-shirt and now her jeans are wet where she kneels.

She needs her phone, needs to call someone who can make this all better, but her phone is gone.

She presses her hands against his side and his eyes shutter closed as he gasps. His breathing is stuttered and uneven.

“Sam. Sam, no,” she cries. “I’ll get help. You’re okay.”

“Aelin.” He raises a hand to press against her cheek, and the blood on it is sticky and warm.

“No, Sam. No, stay with me.”

The scream that tears through her throat will hurt tomorrow but now she barely feels it. “HELP!”

His breathing becomes much quicker as she presses on his side and screams again.

She knows abstractly that she’s crying, tears and snot streaming down her face as she desperately presses her hands against his side.

There’s a strong arm around her waist, tugging her back and away from Sam, and she screams one word over and over.

“No, no, no, no.”

There are people here now, leaning over Sam, leaning over his body.

“NO.”

Aelin gasps as she launches up in her bed. The sheets are stuck to her clammy skin and her head flies to the side. The guy is gone, the side of the bed he occupied when she fell asleep now cold. Good.

She lives it over and over in her dreams, sees the dark street more often than not, feels the phantom warmth of his blood down her legs. Wakes screaming herself hoarse just as she did that night. She doesn’t normally let people stay the night. Even when Aedion tried for the first few weeks after the fact, she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t turn her brain off for even a second. Every time she closed her eyes she was back on that street, begging and pleading for him to open his eyes.

She grasps at her side for the switch of her bedside lamp and flicks it on. Her room is cold and empty and she hasn’t had it in her to decorate past the basics so it’s plain and impersonal when she looks around, trying to calm her breathing.

She checks the time. 6:25am. Not bad, she must have managed about six hours of sleep last night, and it’s more than she usually gets.

There're a few texts waiting in her inbox, including one from Elide, and she expects it to be a request to let her know that she got home safe but it’s not.

Call me as soon as you wake up.

Sent at 6:02am. Elide is a chronic overworker, no matter how much Aelin begs her to stick to a 9 to 5 schedule, but she couldn't imagine her friend any other way. The smiling emoji at the end of the text lets her know it’s nothing she needs to panic about, so she takes a moment to scroll through her other messages. It’s unusual for her to wake up to so many.

She clicks on her conversation with Dorian, the only message she can see, his most recent one, just says Aelin. He has sent her nine messages while she slept, and she scrolls up to reach the first one.

Aelin, you did it. You booked the Rowan Whitethorn movie.

Her heart pounds in her chest, running into overdrive as she processes the words on her screen.

She got the part. She fucking did it.

This is one of those moments she knows she’ll remember.

Dorian has forwarded over a number of contracts and official things but she ignores them in favour of dialling Elide’s number.

“Aelin!” Her friend’s voice is breathy when she answers. “Congratulations, I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks, El.” A pause where she takes a deep breath in. “I can’t believe it.”

She falls back onto her mattress, pressing a fist to her lips as she smiles, eyes closed, almost giddy as she listens to her friend talk.

“They’re putting a press release out today at 12:30, announcing you and the male lead, who I haven’t found out yet but I will.”

“Oh my gods,” she sighs, covering her eyes with a clammy hand.

“I know,” Elide laughs.

She allows herself one tear as she stares up at the white of her ceiling.

This is big, she can feel it.

Later her phone buzzes as Elide sends her links to two different articles breaking the news.

Fenrys Moonbeam and Aelin Ashryver to star in new Chaol Westfall drama. More to follow.

Rowan Whitethorn signs on to direct The Crescent City, the latest project from Chaol Westfall (Throne of Glass, The King’s Hand & more).

She presses the phone to her chest as she lets out a sigh of relief.

It all moves pretty quickly from that point.

She’s on a plane back to Rifthold the next day and Chaol has sent over the whole script for her to read on the plane, bypassing Dorian completely even though that’s how it normally goes and she knows the two are like brothers.

Chaol was the one to introduce her to Dorian, and they kind of took her under their showbiz wings in the first few years she began to get really serious about acting.

They gave her the inside scoop, having been in the industry for a few more years than her. Chaol writing and making movies and Dorian doing all the background stuff like contracts and negotiations and exposure. They took her to their wrap parties that everyone knows are just networking events and introduced her to some of the big names in the industry without so much as batting an eyelid, and she knows she owes them a lot.

The script is phenomenal, and she has to try and hide the tears that form when she reaches the end, it probably wouldn’t be the best start to the project, being photographed crying on the plane on the way to start shooting. It really is some of Chaol’s best work, and she sends him a text when she lands that says fuck you, I hate it, but his reply lets her know he knows she’s joking.

It tells the story of her character, Feyre, and how she’s dragged into selling drugs to pay for her mom’s hospital bills. Along the way she meets Fenrys Moonbeam’s character, Rhysand, the glowering bad-boy who’s well established in the gang and together they see some shit and do some shit but manage to get out together. The topics are kind of cliché and over done, but Chaol has managed to add a level of originality to it that makes it really special.

It’s heavier on the romance than Rowan Whitethorn’s previous projects, but it’s gritty enough that she can see why he’s signed on. It’s going to be hard, she knows this, and it will really push her to her limits trying to embody the range of emotions her character goes through. But she wants it, and she will make her performance incredible if it fucking kills her.

There’s a niggling part of her brain that reminds her that she’s surrounded by some big names on this project, names that are big for a reason, and she can’t let them hiring her be a mistake.

She sends Chaol a follow up text, wtf are these names btw???

He ignores her.

When she’s in the car taking her to the apartment the studio is renting out for her while they film she decides to take a little trip through Instagram and look up her new co-star. Fenrys is a household name by now, a couple of years in after his debut, but it can’t hurt to know a little more about her leading man.

f.moonbeam01 comes up as the first option when the types the three letters f e n into the search bar and he has over eleven million followers.

Shit.

Not that she needs a reminder but it slaps her in the face that this is actually big. Aelin only has a few thousand followers herself and Elide has already told her to prepare herself for that to rise.

His Instagram is a mixture of mostly photos of himself, some selfies and some professional shots, and he’s obviously gorgeous. His deep brown complexion playing well against his golden curls with a straight strong nose and flawless white teeth. He’s definitely leading man material, and she can tell just how charming his grin is even through a screen.

There are also promo pictures for all the movies he’s involved in at the moment, there are at least three projects he has coming out this year. Damn.

His most recent picture is a screenshot of the article announcing their casting, and he’s actually tagged her in the photo along with Rowan himself. She hasn’t seen the tag until now, it’s normally Elide’s job as her publicist to tackle the professional side to her social media, but there’s 6.4 million likes on the photo.

Again, shit.

She can’t help herself from clicking onto Rowan’s account, rowanwhitethorn is a pretty simple handle. He only has 27 posts, most of them are behind the scenes shots from projects, one with his classic director’s chair that has his surname printed across the back in thick white lettering, and a few pictures of different cameras and pieces of equipment.

There’s only one picture of him on there, and it’s from 2017. He has his back to the camera and the sunset behind him lends a shadow that covers all of his features. Very artsy she muses to herself as she double taps the screen to like it, he probably won’t see anyway, the notification will probably get lost in the ones his account no doubt gets from his 2 million followers. The only thing she can gather from the photo about his physical appearance is that he has pretty broad shoulders.

She’s tempted to google him, wanting to know what he looks like, but she feels a bit too much like a stalker, and she knows she’ll meet him in a couple of days anyway so she leaves it and pulls up her emails to reply to the seemingly endless list of forms she has to fill out and send back to Dorian.

The apartment she’s living in for the next few months is modern and airy, with clean lines and bright decor. Aelin likes it, and while it’s not hers in the same way as her home back in Orynth, it’s far better than a hotel room that lower budget movies tend to shove actors in. Another reminder that this time is different, there’s a bigger budget than she’s used to, bigger names than she’s used to, and she can’t fuck this up. There’s more eyes on her now than ever before.

She sends Elide a picture of her new bedroom and her friend just replies with a bunch of exclamation marks and she forwards the picture across to Lysandra too. Aelin wanders through to the kitchen, wondering if anyone bothered to stock the kitchen, not that she can’t do groceries herself, it would just be nice. She’s delighted to find a fridge full of fresh produce and gets about making herself a dish of pasta and veggies.

She tucks herself in front of the big television, munching away as she watches some National Geographic documentary about whales and it helps to take her mind off the fact that this is her last night of peace for a while. She’s trying not to get too in her head about it, there’s a fine line between knowing it’s a big deal and freaking the fuck out about it, and she needs to stay on the right side of that line, needs to keep herself in check.

If she allows herself a moment to relax, a moment to sink into the situation and bask in the opportunity; she’s excited.

And depending on how well this movie does, she knows she may not have another night like this one. Somehow the thought doesn’t seem to scare her.

Lysandra calls her as she’s waiting for the car to arrive to take her to the studio, it's day one of their table read today and she’s tired. She spent all of last night tossing and turning, unable to shut her mind off and panicking over every single detail of how this day could go.

She’s lucky it’s only a table read, she’s not sure even a professional make-up artist would be able to cover the dark circles under her eyes.

“Hello, you.” Lysandra’s voice is cheery through the phone and Aelin smiles, she’s really missed Lysandra and hasn’t taken nearly enough time to seek her out during her recent whirlwind. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

They had texted since the news dropped, but with Lysandra shooting a campaign for a brand she can’t remember somewhere over in the Southern Continent they haven’t had time yet for a call.

“Thanks Lys,” she says as she gets into the back of the sleek black car that the studio has sent for her, tucking her small black backpack onto the seat next to her. It’s all she can use at this point, any other bag just makes her think of that night.

“How’s it going? Have you met everyone yet?”

Lysandra runs in these circles of A list celebrities and Aelin wouldn't be surprised if she already knew Fenrys. She met Lysandra when they were teens; years before her first show for Victoria’s Secret, years before she was walking for people like Gucci and Prada, and they stayed close when they were both living off cheap ramen and thin strands of hope. Aelin likes to tease her about hanging with a lowly C-lister like herself but Lysandra is always quick to quip that she’s maybe a G-lister at a push.

That could change.

“I haven’t met anyone so far, but I’m literally on my way to meet everyone now.”

“That’s exciting, you’ll have to let me know if Fenrys Moonbeam is really that good looking in person.”

“So you don’t already know him?” she asks, teasing. Maybe Lysandra doesn’t know quite everyone.

“Oh you know, apart from every week-end when we hook-up, we’re not really that good friends.”

Aelin laughs, mostly to herself, knowing that somewhere out there that probably is a story that’s cropped up in some cheap tabloid. She knows there’s probably some dating rumours about herself and Fenrys already even though she’s still yet to meet him. It’s just how it is, she knows this, has known this since she was old enough to read the stories about her parents’ messy divorce.

“What does Aedion have to say about that, hm?”

“Oh, he joins us obviously!” Lysandra’s laugh is bright and loud through the grainy speaker.

No-one is more desperate for Aedion to propose to Lysandra than Aelin, not even the magazines, desperate for a scoop of the golden couple, quarterback for the Rifthold Ravens and the world-famous supermodel.

“I think I’ve heard enough, thanks,” Aelin laughs as the car pulls through security checks at the studio. “Lys, I have to go, I’ve just got to the studio.”

“Okay, good luck! Promise you’ll call me later though and let me know how it goes.”

She needs to make sure she puts aside a minute to catch up properly with Lysandra, she’s been slacking recently and she knows her friend misses her. She misses Lysandra too, and Aedion. Maybe she’ll stay with them for a couple of days when she gets a break from filming, she can probably see them far more often now that she’s in Rifthold too.

“I promise,” she agrees. “Tell Aedion to make sure he spoils you from me.”

Lysandra snorts, “Oh he does, I’ll pass it along anyway though.”

“Means a lot. Love you, got to go.”

Lysandra’s returning love you is sincere, but she cuts off the phone as the car comes to a stop outside the plain brick building.

She readies herself in the back of the car, pulling down a deep breath to center herself, she can do this.

The girl leading her to the room doesn’t speak other than to tell Aelin to follow right this way, and she’s grateful, she’s not sure she could speak right now without vomiting all over the dated linoleum flooring.

She needs to get a grip, and fight the urge for a hit that strikes her when she’s nervous like this. It could make her fears disappear, at least for a moment before they all came crashing back down ten-times worse the minute the high faded. There is a reason she packed that shit in, and she knows her nerves will pass. It’s been a while since she’s done any of this, her last movie read was pre-Sam and no matter how hard she tries to push it down, there’s a lot of pressure on her for this to go well.

The girl pauses outside an unassuming white door and holds a hand out to gesture for Aelin to go in. She rolls her shoulders back, holding her head high before she steps into the room. If all else fails she’s still Evalin Ashryver’s daughter and to some people that is something to be proud of.

Fenrys Moonbeam is the first person to catch her eye when she steps into the room, and it seems he’s done some stalking too because he ends his conversation by the food table with some others she doesn’t recognise and bounds straight over to her with a grin.

“Aelin Ashryver,” he says, his voice deep and smooth like velvet. “I’ve heard of you. It’s a pleasure.”

“You have?” She’s both surprised and not at the same time as she holds a hand out for him to shake.

He bypasses the hand she holds out and tugs her into his chest, wrapping both arms around her and knocking her backpack off her shoulder.

“I have,” he says as he bends down to pick her bag back up. “Sorry about that.”

She shakes her head. She needs to stop acting like a bewildered school girl meeting the Queen, she needs to remember that she has second billing for this movie thanks to Dorian.

“Don’t worry about it.” Aelin finds a smile and plasters it on.

Someone calls for everyone to take their seats and she notices the name placards spaced out in front of each chair. She locates her own and it's surreal to see her name printed there, Aelin Ashryver, between Fenrys and another actress playing her sister called Manon Blackbeak. She’s even less known than Aelin, and she only feels slightly guilty for how much that relaxes her.

Aelin knows how this goes down, they sit opposite the production team, the director and all the executive producers and she realises that she’s opposite the sign that reads Rowan Whitethorn.

She slides into her seat, Fenrys and Manon chatting over her head as she does, and she spots a male slipping into the chair opposite her. He’s wearing a slim-fit forest green henley and dark jeans, his shoulders are just as broad as they were in his Instagram photo and here there’s no shadow across his handsome features.

She can’t deny that he’s attractive, she knew it the first time she saw him. Her stare locks onto the man from the hallway after her audition and he smirks at her as if they have a secret. And maybe they do, but now she’s realising that he’s her boss, and a little voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Elide is whispering to her that opportunities like this don’t come around everyday.

She owes it to Sam and she owes it to herself not to fuck this up, but the look that Rowan Whitethorn is sending her across the table makes her think she could risk it all.

It takes them three hours to run through it in full, and she’s happy to see she’s not the only one with a tear in her eye at the end. Rowan doesn’t cry, but he hasn’t looked at her since before they started and each time she read a line she avoided looking at him. She knows there were a couple of times where he nodded along with her expression of the lines. She’s ignoring it.

This is what she lives to do, they’re not even filming yet and she feels like she’s right where she needs to be. It’s cliche but she breathes easier when she acts, the air feels lighter when she takes on a new personality and feels all the things she’s told to feel.

It takes away the restlessness she feels when it’s all just down to her, being told how to feel is far easier.

Her therapist tells her she has both anxiety and PTSD, but she feels like giving it a name doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. She knows a diagnosis can be a relief for some, but to Aelin, what she feels is far too messy to be summed up in four letters. Her life has simply become the before, and the after, even though what each of those contains is a complete fucking shit show.

There are two Aelins; pre that night and post that night.

The Aelin from before that night doesn’t exist anywhere but in her own memory.

Once the run through is completed and basic notices are given by the producers, things like call sheet distributions and health and safety, the occupants of the room begin to mingle. She sees him make a beeline for her, and she swallows. She’s not ready for this.

“You look surprised to see me.” His voice is as hot as it was the last time she saw him, the slight rasp in his throat and his accent. Gods, the accent.

“You don’t look too surprised to see me.” She tilts her head at him because she feels way thrown off, like he has all the power here. Which he does. But like, she can play it cool. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? “Maybe had a little google search?”

He shakes his head at her, biting his lip kind of like he wants to laugh, and she bristles. She needs to level the playing field.

“Says you.” He’s definitely laughing now. “I saw you liked my photo last night.”

“What about it?” She shrugs, hoping her acting skills are up to it. He only tilts his head to the side as he takes her in.

“Do you think I didn’t know who you were in the corridor? I’m the director.” And fuck him for saying it like that, full of an easy confidence that in any other situation would have had heat pooling in the floor of her stomach. “Brullo discussed the casting with me.”

Right. Of course.

She’s not sure what to say next. Honestly? She kind of wants to flirt with him, but fuck.

Instead she hums a laugh, not really caring whether he thinks it’s sincere or not, and looks absentmindedly around the room instead of back up at him. He reaches a hand out to brush his fingers down her arm, looping them round the bones of her wrist and squeezing slightly like he did the last time before letting go. Her eyes snap back to his.

“Just between you and me?” he asks and the smile he wears is far too hot for her to deal with right now. “I think we made a good choice.”

“Thanks,” she says, but it’s a little too breathy. A little too dazed for having spent such a short amount of time in his presence. She’s aware that she needs to be careful, they are very much not alone in this room right now, and she doesn’t need to start any rumours that would destroy her chances of escaping this without a scandal.

She’s here to do a job, and she’s going to do it well. She doesn’t need any distractions.

He leaves her soon after that, and his parting remark of “have a good first day, Aelin” sticks with her, and she tries not to replay the way his voice had wrapped around her name.

Manon Blackbeak is watching them from across the room, and she arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow at Aelin. She ignores her; let her think what she wants, she’s surely professional enough not to gossip to any press, and stomps over to where Fenrys is chatting with one of the producers. It seems like a good enough place to start.

[let-me-write-shit]

Could u do one w famous!reader (singer and actress) and she’s Brazilian and they met at late late show or idk some other talk show?? Thank u love ur writing

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, @lebortoletto, and sorry it took so long! Hope you like it!! 

Word Count: 4,746

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The Late Late Show

Y/N always loved coming on James Corden’s ‘The Late Late Show’. His team was always super organized and kind, and James sometimes treated his guests with a meal at a restaurant after the taping since it was usually filmed during dinnertime, and they always had a lot of fun on-set. James was one of the few television hosts whom Y/N would consider a friend.

Of course, being an actress provided Y/N an opportunity to meet and make friends with hundreds of other celebrities, and she considered herself to be amongst nearly all groups of celebrity friendships, but there were some more notable people which she hadn’t had the pleasure to meet, yet. One being Harry Styles.

She’d wanted to meet him since the days of One Direction, but their paths somehow never crossed, which was odd considering nearly all of her friends were mutuals with him. They followed each other on Instagram and Twitter, and would occasionally like the other’s pictures or tweets, but that was about as far as it went. She didn’t have the courage to message him. But that ended today. Both of them would be appearing on his show together.

She and her team arrived early, being escorted to a private room. Most of her team went to the main backstage room while Y/N got her hair and makeup done in her private room. There was still some time left to spare by the time they were finished, and Y/N, along with her PR person, decided to greet everyone backstage and have a quick snack before she changed clothes. She bumped into Reggie and a few other members of James’ team on the way back, smiling and chatting with them while they walked down the hall. As soon as she entered the room, she heard her name called out.

“Y/N! Hello!”

Y/N turned her head in the direction of the voice and smiled when she saw James Corden in the middle of a conversation with Harry Styles and someone else she hadn’t recognized, presumably on his team. She made her way over, noticing Harry holding a small, half-eaten sandwich, and trying to keep her composure.

“Hello, so good to see you again,” Y/N grinned, taking Jame’s hand and pecking him on each cheek before turning to Harry, heart pounding, “Hi, how are you? I’m Y/N.”

“Good, thanks, I’m Harry,” his voice was deep and muffled, trying to introduce himself with a mouth full of sandwich. He leaned in for a one-arm hug and pecked either side of her face. Once they pulled apart he had dramatically swallowed his food and smiled sheepishly, “Sorry,” he chuckled, “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“We were just talking about you,” James interrupted.

Your expression changed to one of surprise before Harry chimed in, holding a finger up and nodding, “Yeah, I’m a big fan. Salacity was incredible.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Y/N blushed, looking between the two of them, “Well, I’m obviously a fan, too. Who isn’t?”

“Obviously, you mean me,” James joked, flicking his imaginary hair back.

The two laughed while Y/N nodded, “Obviously.”

Y/N continued on, asking James about his family, and attempted to remain calm while Harry’s overwhelming presence barely a foot beside her lingered. She could feel the warmth radiate from his side, fighting the urge not to look over at him every five seconds, though she couldn’t help but feel his eyes occasionally glance her way.

Since James was so close with both Harry and Y/N, it seemed to be easy to hold a conversation. But when James was ushered away by the crew to start prep and begin filming for his show, it left Harry and Y/N an opportunity to talk. They still had a bit before they would be called out.

“So, I heard you’ll be in the new Marvel film,” Harry turned to her.

Y/N’s mouth fell open, smirking unsurely. That news hasn’t been released yet, and as far as she was aware, not even her biggest fans knew about it. “How did you hear that?”

He grinned, looking down and then back up at her, “Uh, Alexa may have mentioned it.”

“Alexa Chung,” Y/N repeated, rolling her eyes with a smirk. Alexa Chung was a supermodel and one of Y/N’s closest friends. She shook her head, muttering, “I knew she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Yeah, I mean the contract is still under negotiation, but it’s looking good.”

Harry smiled, “Congratulations. I’m sure it’ll be amazing. Can’t wait to see it in theatres.”

“Thank you,” Y/N nodded.

Soon they were joined with more people from the crew of The Late Late Show, as well as more people from their own team as they were told the order of operations and how things were going to run tonight. James had a few segments he had to do on his own before interviewing the two of them, then on to a game, and a small break before Harry would perform.

They listened, intently, a handful of m&m’s in her hands. She noticed Harry shifting in her peripheral and when she turned to see what he was doing, he was already looking at her, pointing at her hands and mouthing, ‘throw me one’. Y/N giggled, picking up a red chocolate candy and scanning the circle of people to make sure no one was staring at her before quickly flicking it across the circle. Harry jerked to the left, trying to catch it in his mouth, but it just bounced off of his chin and to the floor. Only one girl seemed to notice and chuckled.

Harry turned to her, mouth ajar and brows scrunched up, pretending to be indignant and mouthing, “What was that?”

“Another,” Y/N mouthed, grabbing a blue one, this time. Once again, she scanned the circle and chucked the m&m higher.

This time, Harry hardly had to move. He opened his mouth and caught it, smiling and chewing on the candy. “Nice throw,” he nodded, approvingly.

After the meeting, Y/N’s Publicist urged her back towards her private room so she could get changed. She slipped into a sexy red pantsuit that plunged down her neckline and flared at the wrists and ankles, pairing it with a pair of matching red high-heels. Again, she made her way backstage where Harry was, talking to some more people, and when they both saw each other they froze, eyes widened for a moment before their smiles turned into laughter.

He made his way over, now wearing a white button-up underneath his red suit and matching red pressed pants and red shoes. “You copied me!”

Y/N shook her head playfully, joking, “We should swap our suits mid-show and see if anyone notices.”

Harry laughed, “Yes! I can wear yours for the performance!”

The two were greeted by another crew member and led to the side of the stage where they had to remain silent. They looked at each other and back to their crew, silently shimmying and to the sound of James’ voice before their names were called and an eruption of screams and claps echoed through the air from the live studio audience.

Harry let Y/N walk out first and followed her towards the stage as they smiled and waved to the crowd before stepping up on the platform to greet James with a friendly hug and peck on the cheek, sitting side-by-side on the couch.

When the cheers died down, James turned to the two with a grin and said, “It’s great to have both of you back on the show. What is this?” he motioned towards their outfits, laughing, “You’re wearing the same outfit! Did you plan this?”

They both laughed and Harry joked, “Yeah, I rang her and asked what she was wearing and went out and bought the same exact thing.”

“I wanted to give you a heads up so you could match us, too, but Harry told me not to because you would outshine us,” Y/N played along, making James belly-laugh along with the audience.

“I was this close to being upset with you both for not including me,” James laughed, settling down, “You two have never actually met before, have you?”

“No,” they both shook their heads, looking at each other for a second with a smile, “First time.”

“That’s surprising because you both seem to have a lot of the same friends.”

Harry nodded, “Yeah, we seem to run in the same circles, but never at the same time.”

“I think he was just avoiding me, really,” Y/N nodded, making the boys laugh.

Harry chuckled, “yeah, I see her at a party and I duck behind the trash cans,” he did his best impersonation.

James laughed, turning towards Y/N, “You must have been partying a lot this past weekend after your big win.” Y/N smiled widely while the audience, along with Harry, clapped loudly. Cheers, again, echoing from the crowd. James continued, “You’re new movie, Salacity, was nominated for a bunch of awards, but you made history as the first Brazilian to win an Academy Award for Best Actress. What was that like?”

Cheers erupted again and Y/N bit her lip, nodding and looking up at everyone. This never got old. “Thank you,” Y/N grinned, turning back towards James, “Honestly, I think I blacked out when they called my name.” Everyone laughed as she continued, “It was so surreal. I’ve always dreamt of winning an Academy Award but never thought in a million years that I would be the first Brazilian to win. I’m incredibly proud and grateful and just so honored to even be in the same room as all of those talented people. I’m very lucky.”

“Well you deserved every bit of it,” James nodded, earning a voice of agreement along with more cheers from the audience, “Salacity was also nominated for Best Original Song, which was written and sung by you, is that right?”

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, Harry’s not the only talented musician here.”

Both of them laughed as jokingly threw his hands up, stood, and pretended to walk off set. When he plopped back on the couch he said, “First you steal my outfit, then you steal my job?”

“I’m so sorry. I’ll let you open for my next tour,” she joked back.

She felt silly for being so nervous when she woke up this morning. Truth is, this is one of the easiest interviews she’s done. Normally she struggled for the right words to say or with getting a feel on whether she needed to be more professional or if she could let her silly flag fly. Because she knew James so well and got along with Harry so quickly, it made things a lot easier.

They discussed Harry’s career for a bit before circling back to Y/N as James said, “Now, we had your counterpart, KJ Appa, on our show last week. Such a nice guy, by the way.”

“So sweet,” Y/N nodded in agreement as James continued.

“And he had nothing but good things to say about you. He even said that you were one of the best on-screen kisses he’s had” James admitted, making the audience awe as Y/N blushed and smiled. James carried on, “But he did mention a particularly….awkward moment between the two of you on set. Care to elaborate?”

When Y/N’s eyes widened and shifted in her seat in embarrassment, James laughed. She looked at Harry beside her to see him curious and she began to explain, “Well, as you know, Salacity is a very, uhm, how do you put it?”

“Erotic?” James offered, laughing again.

Y/N nodded, chuckling, “Yes, there’s a lot of sex scenes. So, anyway one the very first sex scene we filmed, I’m in this sexy, lacey black lingerie, basically strapped onto this harness contraption in the air and KJ’s character has to come in from behind me, but the harness that was holding my arms snapped, tore off my bra, and I was dangling by my legs upside down with hundreds of crew members watching. And KJ, the sweet guy he is, sees that my bra came off and panicked, and he jumped in, practically hugging me as I was hanging upside down to cover me. But he didn’t realize that the only thing he was wearing was this sock that covered his dick because we were just about to film this sex scene, and it was all up in my face.”

Everyone burst into laughter as Y/N explained, “That poor guy was just trying to help, but they got me down pretty quickly. But it definitely lessened the tension for the rest of filming. We got closer after that.”

“Can’t get much closer than that, can you?” Harry joked, making her laugh, as well.

When that portion of the interview had finished, cameras cut and their team had rushed over to do a few quick makeup and hair touch-ups, laughing and joking with each other about how well it was going so far. They were then directed towards a different area of the stage, sat around a table with rancid smells lingering around.

“Have you ever done this before?” Harry asked her as they were getting re-wired and James was getting prepped.

Y/N shook her head, pushing her hair behind her back and screwing up her face, “No, and I might vomit just looking at all this stuff.”

Harry nodded, “I’ve got an extra toothbrush you can have afterward.”

James came back and they were given two minutes to get situated before the cameras focused in on them. Reggie and the band played the theme song of Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts, while Y/N rang her fingers and Harry looked between her and James. Cheers and claps sounded and James smiled teasingly at the two.

“You both look thrilled to be doing this,” he said, sarcastically.

“Oh, yeah, can’t wait,” Harry retorted.

Y/N pursed her lips, shaking her head, “I must have been out of my mind when I agreed to this.”

They laughed as James directed their attention to the table, spinning it, “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here. We’ve got 1,000-year-old egg, Fish eye and bird saliva, cow tongue, salmon smoothie, cow blood and pork tongue jelly, bull penis, hot dog water, which is the absolute rankest thing I’ve ever had, and giant water scorpion.”

“Why?” Y/N groaned, sitting back in her chair in disgust.

Harry chuckled and James laughed as he explained, “So here’s how this game works. We are gonna ask each other questions, okay. The questions are written here and we have not seen them. We have a choice. We can either answer these questions truthfully, or, we have to eat the food that the other person chooses. Okay?” Harry and Y/N nodded in understanding. “Alright, ladies first. Y/N, you are going to choose a food for Harry that he has to eat, should he not answer the question.”

She glanced and spun the tabletop in search of food, bending down and taking a whiff of something awful, she gagged, making them laugh, turning the tabletop until something was placed in front of him, “I’ll go with the fish eye and bird saliva.”

“That’s the one I was least looking forward to,” Harry groaned.

“Were you looking forward to any of them?” James shot back, laughing. “Alright, Y/N, what is your question for Harry.”

Y/N turned her card over in her hands and scanned it before chuckling, blushing, and looking up at him, “Harry, backstage you mentioned you were a big fan of my new movie. How much of it had to do with my sex scene, and what did you think about it?”

“Which one?” he joked, smiling, making everyone in the audience gasp and giggle.

Harry blushed, straightening out his suit, a lopsided, shy smile still stretched on his face, “Uh...I mean, even without the sex scenes it’s a brilliant movie. But, uh, yeah. They were very….Oh god,” he slapped a hand on his forehead, looking down and making the audience laugh. Y/N shook her head in amusement as he attempted to regain composure, “Yeah, they were very realistic.”

“How many times did you rewind those scenes?” James teased.

“No, no, no, that wasn’t the question. It’s my turn now,” Harry waved his finger, making everyone laugh again as the band played and Harry spun the table. “James, I’m going to give you….well, I know how much you love hot dogs, so I’m gonna give you the hot dog water.”

“You dick,” James groaned, taking a sniff and gagging, “That really, truly is the worst thing we’ve ever had on this show. Alright, then, what’s my question?”

Harry picked up the card and grinned, “James, you have had a lot of big-name celebrities on your show. Who was the biggest disappointment?”

The crowd ooed as James’ face fell, shaking his head and looking back at the producers, “Who wrote these?”

“Come on, don’t be a pussy, answer it,” Y/N joked, making everyone laugh.

James shook his head, “I can’t. I can’t,” and he picked up the shot glass and tipped it into his mouth.

Everyone gasped and he immediately reached for the bucket and spit it all out, “That is horrible!” he exclaimed, rinsing his mouth out with water, “Why do we still have that? Alright, Y/N, I am going to pick for you….” he spun the table around before grinning and halting a pink, meaty cube in front of her, “Cow blood and pork tongue jelly.”

Y/N winced, poking at the large cube and gasping, “Oh my god, why is it so hard?”

“That’s what she said,” Harry chimed, making everyone laugh.

“We all know how you feel about my movie, Harry,” shot back, making everyone burst into laughter and Harry blush.

Harry hit his face for a second before James continued, snorting, and looking up at Y/N, “Y/N, you’ve been rumored to have very famous exes. Between Timothee Chalamet, Robert Pattinson, and Taylor Zakhar Perez, rank them from best to worst in bed,” Y/N’s mouth fell as the audience gasped and laughed.

“Pattinson’s gotta be the best, hasn’t he?” Harry assumed, making Y/N hide her face.

“Now, this is not to say that any of them are bad. Maybe they're in the top three,” James suggested, “But of the top three, who is the worst,” he laughed.

Y/N uncovered her face and looked between the two men, reaching for her fork and knife.

“Oh god,” Harry winced, as James shouted, “No! No!”

She dug her fork in and sliced a corner off, “I never kiss and tell,” placing her knife down and taking a deep breath before hurriedly putting it in her mouth. The texture was what she imagined dog food tasted like, and she gagged, grabbing her tin can and spitting it in before swishing her water around in her mouth and spitting that out, as well.

“That was disgusting,” Y/N blotted her mouth with the towel.

“I can’t believe you’ve done that,” James shook his head.

“And I’m not doing it again,” she took another sip of her drink, “Is it my turn now?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you go ahead and choose something for Harry to eat if he doesn’t answer the question.”

She spun until she landed on the 1,000 year old egg. James announced what it was as Harry nodded and said, “Alright”. Y/N picked her card, turned it around, and said, “Oh, no.”

“Oh, God, what is it?” Harry sat up straighter.

“Harry,” Y/N started, “You and Niall are the only remaining members of One Direction who are not parents. Rank the members of One Direction from worst to best parents.”

Without hesitation, Harry stabbed his fork into the egg and shoved it in his mouth. Everyone gasped and Y/N pulled away, covering her face with the card and using it as a sort-of shield. He made a show out of slowly chewing it, holding back a gag. He used his water to swallow it down and stuck his tongue out to show that he had finished it.

“No way,” Y/N shook her head, nose scrunched.

“You are insane,” James shook his head.

“Tastes exactly the way you think,” Harry took another sip of water. “Right, James. I’m going to choose for you…...the water scorpion.”

“The giant water scorpion. For reference, this is what he’s chosen for me,” James picked up the stiff, hard, black bug and showed the camera. “Go on, what’s your question.”

Harry cleared his throat, picked up a card, and chuckled, “James, I’ve been on your show for years, and even taken over for you twice. Who is your favorite member of One Direction.”

A smile slowly spread on James' face and he shook his head, staring off at the audience as they screamed and laughed. “I can’t choose that,” James breathed, turning to face him.

“Well, you have to, or else you’ll be eating a giant water scorpion.”

“Oh, come on, we all know it’s not Harry,” Y/N joked, earning an amused glare from Harry.

“Excuse me,” Harry said, “I happen to know, for a fact, that it is me. Go on, James. Tell ‘em.”

“You think it’s you, do ya?” James questioned, looking between them before finally picking up the water scorpion, “You keep thinking that,” he joked before taking a bite of its head and chewing. He laughed mid-chew, spit it out in his bucket, and took another sip of water.

“How dare you,” Harry joked, indignantly.

James laughed, turning the table, “Y/N, It’s my turn to ask you a question. But first, I’m going to give you the salmon smoothie.”

“Ugh,” Y/N sniffed it’s pungent aroma, sitting away from the glass of pink, chunky fish.

She looked up at James as he scanned the card and laughed, “Y/N, you were nominated for a lot of awards this year. Who has won against you that didn’t deserve to?”

“Oh noooo,” Y/N trailed, throwing her head back, causing James and Harry to laugh.

“No, come on, we were all shocked on at least one of those categories,” James offered. Y/N shook her head, taking hold of the glass.

“Chug, chug, chug!” Harry chanted, compelling the audience to join in.

“Fuck off,” Y/N mouthed to Harry, making him laugh as she took a swig of the monstrous drink.

The second it hit her tongue, she heaved, quickly grabbing the tin and spitting the contents in as James called the end of the game. She took several sips of water, gulping it down to alleviate the lingering taste in her mouth. They called for a wrap, and Harry immediately dug out a packet of gum from his pocket, offering one to each of them while more crew rushed up to them.

Y/N thanked him, shoving the wrapper in her suit pocket, and after they were briefed from the crew, they had about fifteen minutes to spare while they set up for Harry’s performance. People from each of their teams tried to talk to them, but Y/N had something else in mind.

“Follow me,” she told him, grabbing his arm and jogging through the halls backstage. He chuckled, confused, but intrigued, following closely behind her until they reached the door of her dressing room. “Give me your suit jacket.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised and mouth formed an ‘O’, realizing what she was doing. With a grin, he unbuttoned his suit and shrugged it off, carefully handing it over to her. She shot him a smile, which made him grow steadily more keen, watching as she slipped into the room and closed the door behind her, disappearing. He waited, leaning against the wall for what seemed like a little longer than necessary for switching jackets. When she emerged wearing his jacket, his smile widened.

“Looks better on you,” he smirked.

She smiled, passing him the clump of red fabric that was her top, “Let’s see if we can say the same about you.”

He slipped his arms through the sleeves of her jacket, and although there was plenty of room in the arms because of the flare, the chest and waist were a bit tight. He made sure not to tie the sash too tightly and straightened it out, “How do I look?”

She giggled, flattening the collar of the jacket and joking, “Beautiful.”

They made their way back towards the main area of the backstage, surrounded by their teams and crew, laughing about the jacket change and prepping Harry some more as he rummaged through a small travel-sized toiletry bag for the disposable toothbrushes and toothpaste, and the two of them brushed their teeth.

Eventually, Harry was ushered to another stage where he and a band were situated. Lights dimmed and shone strategically on him as he was announced and began to play. Y/N, never having been to a Harry Styles concert, and a fan of his music, watched from the side of the stage, arms crossed and leaning against a large black case of some sort. He looked over at her a couple of times, trying to hide a coy smile, he danced around the stage and used the sash on her jacket like a rope, swinging it around.

When he finally finished, she, along with the studio audience, clapped and cheered for him. He thanked them, clasping his hands and bowing a few times, humbly repeating, “Thank you,” while James announced it was a wrap. Y/N joined Harry on the stage where the two of them, along with James, greeted people in the audience, signing pictures, papers, and phone cases, just chatting with the fans and taking selfies with them.

James, Harry, Y/N, and their publicists spent about an hour and a half to two hours after the taping to sit down at a nearby restaurant for a bite to eat. They were seated at a private table, enjoying some more banter and fun. She had a feeling that Harry was flirting with her, or maybe she was just hoping he was. He started it off by sneakily stealing bits of fries off of her plate throughout the meal as he sat across from her, and she would reciprocate by ‘accidentally’ stepping on his toes under the table.

“Hope I didn’t scuff those Gucci loafers,” she winked, smirking.

As much as she didn’t want the night to end, there weren't many excuses she could make to prolong the conversation, and everyone else was very clearly tired aside from the two of them. Y/N stayed towards the back of the group as they made their way back outside, and Harry slowed his pace and hung back until he was walking side-by-side with Y/N.

“I guess I should give this back to you,” he slipped the jacket off of him as they exited through the back, letting the cool LA air swirl on their faces.

Everyone was giving hugs and saying their goodbyes. Y/N looked down at her jacket in his hand and she leaned in to kiss either side of his face, lingering a little longer than normal. When she pulled away she shook her head and lightly pushed the jacket back towards him, “No. Keep it. An excuse to see you again.” And as she began walking backward to join her group, she called out, “check the pockets.”

His toothy smile turned into a furrowed eyebrow. Confused, he dug his hand in either pocket of the jacket until he pulled out what looked to be the gum wrapper. But, upon closer inspection, he noticed a series of numbers written in black ink. Her phone number. He looked up just in time to see Y/N opening a car door.

“Call me!” she shouted, smirking, before getting in and closing the door.

Harry’s smile grew even more, clutching the red jacket tighter and slinging it over his shoulder, making sure to carefully store the gum wrapper in his wallet and watching as her car drove off down the street and out of view.

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