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the hold she had on her fork tightened until her knuckles turned white. for one brief , terrible moment , bonnie entertained the thought of smashing the wine bottle over his head. anger had always come easily around bruce. it lived beneath her skin whenever he was near , hot and familiar and exhausting. he was the reason those feelings existed in the first place. he knew exactly which buttons to press , exactly where to sink the knife.
“ whoring around ? ” she repeated the phrase with an incredulous scoff , setting her fork down with a sharp clatter against the plate. she crossed her arms over her chest , eyes narrowing into slits. “ sort of like when you visit those clubs , right ? ” her head tilted. “ or are you still one of those men who thinks the stripper actually loves him ? ” it was cruel. deliberately so. bonnie had never learned how to fight fair with her brother. neither of them had.
" seriously , bruce , your extracurricular activities are the worst-kept secret in this family. ever since you accidentally charged the family account with your camsoda ..." she paused , feigning thoughtfulness. “ donation ? subscription ? charitable contribution ? whatever the hell it was. ” she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “ eomma almost had a stroke when accounting flagged it. one could only wonder what your wife would think if she found out. ” the jab landed low. she knew it the second the words left her mouth. she also knew she'd say something even worse if he kept talking.
bruce set his fork down with deliberate care. he wiped the corner of his mouth with a linen napkin , slow and precise , as though the conversation had not already begun to rot in the air between them. clever little bitch. he could see exactly what she was doing. the provocation , the angles , the careful pressure points meant to make him slip , to make him react first. it was always a game with her — who could draw blood in public without ever raising their voice. a kind of sport disguised as conversation.
but bruce never played fair. and he never played high. if bonnie went low , bruce went lower. " eomma had a stroke when you visited her just a few months ago , " he said evenly , voice calm enough to be insulting. “ at least my affairs don't result in such … devastation. ” he leaned forward slightly. just enough to close the distance , just enough to make it personal. his gaze held hers with quiet precision — not anger , not heat , but something far worse. certainty. the kind that suggested he already knew what she would try to deny. " or is that devastation reserved for greying coaches you like to scare into submission ? " a faint pause.
" because god forbid your friends learn that their precious bonnie kwon is nothing but a . . . . " he lingers there for a moment longer than necessary. the silent statement : i know something you don't want anyone to know. he sat back again as if nothing had happened , as if the air had not shifted. " abeoji is dying , " bruce said flatly. no emphasis. no performance. just fact. a nameless aide stepped forward and placed a file into his hand. bruce didn’t open it. he simply slid it across the table toward her with two fingers, the motion almost careless. it stopped just short of her reach. " updated will , " he said. " sign it. dinner ends here. "
the block party roared just outside , music and laughter spilling through the streets. inside the steakhouse , however , time seemed to move differently — hushed , muted , almost suffocating. " oh , come on , " bruce said, cutting neatly into his steak. he preferred it rare ; crimson pooled across the porcelain as he balanced a piece on the back of his fork and took a measured bite. he chewed , unhurried. " don't pout. i know you'd much rather be out there . . . " he gestured vaguely toward the window. “. . . whoring around with your hockey players , but i'm your older brother. your obligation is to me. to this family. ” he had the audacity to smile. “ you're a kwon , bonnie. or have you forgotten that ? ” his gaze swept over her baby-blue outfit , and with a dismissive flick of his fork , he continued , " perhaps you've forgotten in this little town you've decided to settle into. " he leaned back in his chair , expression unreadable. " but no matter how far you run , you're still one of us. "
› 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 : open.
𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 : block party , y/m stuck in a conversation !
it wasn't in bruce's nature to interrupt. he preferred observation and patience. people usually revealed exactly who they were if given enough time. but even his tolerance had limits , and watching the display unfold in front of him had quickly become tiresome. he stepped in with effortlessly , adjusting the cufflink peeking from beneath the sleeve of his suit. " there you are , " he said smoothly , as though they'd arranged to meet all along. “ i've been looking for you everywhere. ” the other person received nothing more than the briefest glance , if that. bruce had long mastered the art of dismissal ; being ignored by him felt far worse than being insulted. eventually , most people understood when they were no longer welcome. his attention returned fully to his companion. " the nature of these events tends to invite such company , doesn't it ? " he remarked dryly , eyes briefly scanning the crowd. “ small towns. ” a quiet sigh escaped him , more performative than genuine. " well , " he continued , the faintest trace of amusement touching his features, " where's my reward for rescuing you ? "
⋆ ⭒˚｡ [ lee soo hyuk, cis man. his/him. ] was that BRUCE KWON i just saw over at CANYON VALLEY COUNTRY CLUB ? you know, the FORTY THREE year old EXECUTIVE CHAIRMAN OF KWON HAESUNG GROUP (KHG) that’s been around willow glen for ONE WEEK. people around town say they can somehow both be CHARISMATIC and IMAGE CONCIOUS, but if you were to ask them, they’d probably say they’re more like PRIVATE JETS AND THE LONELINESS OF FIRST CLASS CABINS, GOLD FAMILY RINGS WORN LIKE SHACKLES, BESPOKE CHARCOAL SUITS, ORCHIDS BLOOMING IN EMPTY APARTMENTS the town sure has been rumbling about them lately, apparently they WITH THE KWON PATRIARCH'S FAILING HEALTH CASTING UNCERTAINTY OVER THE FUTURE, HE HAS DECIDED TO CUT HIS YOUNGER SISTER OUT OF THE FAMILY INHERITANCE IN AN EFFORT TO SAFEGUARD THE FAMILY LEGACY . . . but who knows if that’s true, i guess i’ll just have to stop by REDBUD MANOR and find out !
𝐈. ⠀ 𝙰𝚃 𝙰 𝙶𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 ⠀ [ … ]
full name. bruce kwon nicknames. none age. forty3 date of birth. july 18, 1985 place of birth. beverly hills, california, usa ethnicity. korean nationality. korean-american gender. cis man pronouns. he/him occupation. executive chairman of kwon haesung group (khg)
fc. teo yoo build. broad-shouldered and powerfully built , with a commanding frame height. 6'6" hair. dark brown, nearly black, worn neatly and impeccably maintained , with silver beginning to emerge at the temples eyes. dark brown facial hair. clean-shaven
style. impeccably tailored and understated ; favors bespoke suits in charcoal , black , and navy , paired with luxury watches , discreet cufflinks , and handcrafted italian shoes. even off dut y, he gravitates toward cashmere , tailored outerwear , and monochromatic palettes tattoos. none scars. a scar across his lip from when bonnie scratched him as a child
𝐈𝐈. ⠀ 𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈 ⠀ [ ... ]
― presents himself as controlled , deliberate , and almost unnervingly composed. he is the kind of man who rarely raises his voice , not because he is gentle , but because he doesn't need to. authority follows him naturally. he's shaped by inheritance , reputation , and the quiet certainty that people will adjust themselves around him. at his core , he is highly strategic. bruce thinks in outcomes , not moments. every interaction is unconsciously evaluated for leverage , consequence , and long-term impact. this makes him an exceptional businessman and a difficult person to truly know. even in personal relationships , there is a subtle sense that he is always reading the room , even when he appears relaxed. emotionally , he is restrained to the point of distortion. bruce does feel things — deeply , sometimes violently — but rarely allows those feelings to surface in a recognizable form. instead , they emerge as control , silence , withdrawal , or decision-making that feels cold even when it is rooted in care. he equates emotional expression with vulnerability , and vulnerability with loss of authority.
― there is also a strong perfectionistic streak in him. failure is not something he tolerates easily , especially within himself. when things go wrong , his instinct is not to process , but to correct , contain, and reassert order. this often extends to the people around him, particularly family , where love is expressed through expectation rather than softness. protective in a way that is both genuine and suffocating. he believes he is shielding the people he cares about from harm , but his method of protection often resembles control. decisions are made on behalf of others. futures are planned without consultation. freedom is quietly traded for security , whether the other person agrees or not.
― beneath that , there is a persistent insecurity he would never name. bruce is haunted by the idea that he is only valuable because of what he provides — not who he is. this drives both his ambition and his inability to rest. he does not know how to exist without being useful. in interpersonal settings , he can be charismatic when he chooses to be. he understands social dynamics instinctively , especially in elite or corporate environments. however , this charm is rarely fully open ; it feels curated , like everything else about him. people often leave conversations with him feeling both impressed and slightly distanced , as though they were allowed near something polished but not alive.
― with bonnie , his personality becomes more unstable. she disrupts his internal logic. she does not respond to him the way he expects people to , and that unpredictability creates both fascination and frustration. around her , he is less composed, more reactive , and occasionally caught in contradictions he cannot rationalize. at his worst , bruce becomes controlling , emotionally avoidant , and quietly ruthless in pursuit of stability. at his best , he is deeply loyal , protective , and capable of extraordinary sacrifice for the people he considers his responsibility. he is not a man who struggles with power. he struggles with what it costs him to keep it.
𝐈𝐈𝐈. ⠀ 𝙳𝙾𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙴𝚁 ⠀ [ ... ]
to understand bruce kwon , one must first understand the kwon haesung group ( khg ) , the largest electronic conglomerate in south korea , a dynasty that has quietly swallowed the nation since the 1950s. from household appliances to the device in your hand , khg has shaped modern life itself , and bruce was never simply born into it — he was engineered for it.
as the eldest son , he grew up under the weight of inheritance rather than choice. expectation was not placed on him , it was embedded into him. every achievement was framed as obligation , every success merely proof that he was not yet failing. he learned early to equate love with performance , and worth with control.
he was , in many ways , spoiled to the point of delusion. bruce carries the quiet conviction that his life has been defined by hardship — a belief formed not through suffering , but through comparison. a denied europe trip at seventeen became , in his memory , evidence of deprivation. from that perspective , he has always seen himself as someone under pressure , even as he stood at the top of every hierarchy.
that belief curdled into resentment over time. unable to reconcile his own privilege with the emotional narrative he built around himself , he projected that discomfort outward , most notably onto his younger sister , bonnie. in his mind , she existed as someone granted ease , warmth , and freedom he was never afforded , despite the fact they were raised in the same gilded cage. he does not fully understand the source of this fixation , only that it has always been there — quiet , persistent , and unfair.
he also has a younger brother , toward whom he is comparatively indifferent , his authority softened only by distance rather than affection. beneath all of this sits something uglier and unspoken : a preference for control , for hierarchy , for order that places him at the top. he would never name it , but it shapes more of his decisions than he would ever admit.
bruce’s personal life mirrors the structure of his empire: maintained , polished , and fundamentally disconnected. he is married to a woman chosen as much by expectation as by compatibility. she is kind , composed , and long-suffering in ways that are never openly acknowledged. together they have a daughter , eleven years old , who exists as one of the few points of softness in his otherwise rigid world.
he does not love his wife in the way stories describe , nor does she appear to expect him to. their marriage is not explosive , but transactional in its silence — two people coexisting under the same roof , maintaining appearances for the sake of legacy , reputation , and continuity. bruce’s infidelity is frequent but discreet , treated less as scandal and more as unspoken routine. it is understood , tolerated , and never discussed.
beneath all of it , bruce is not cruel in the obvious sense. he is controlled , strategic , and emotionally distant to the point of distortion. he believes himself to be rational , even when every choice he makes is shaped by pride , insecurity , and inherited expectation. he is the kind of man who can run an empire without hesitation , but cannot articulate what he actually wants from the people closest to him.
and perhaps that is the quiet tragedy of bruce kwon — that he has spent his entire life becoming exactly what he was told to be , and now no longer knows how to be anything else.
the structure of bruce kwon’s life begins to fracture when his father’s health declines. the kwon patriarch , once an immovable figure at the center of khg’s empire , begins to fade in quiet , undignified ways — private hospitals , restricted access , boardroom whispers that no longer require his presence to make decisions. for the first time, the illusion of permanence begins to crack. and with it , so does bruce.
it is in this slow collapse that bruce becomes something heavier than he already was. not just heir , but replacement. not just son , but continuation. every conversation turns into succession planning , every silence into negotiation. he stops being simply a man and becomes a bridge between what khg was and what it must remain. he tells himself he is prepared for it. he has always been prepared for it. but preparation , he learns , is not the same as control. because control slips in small ways first. a missed call. a decision made without him. a board member who looks at him like he is already in charge , not because he is ready , but because there is no one else left standing. and beneath it all, a question he never says out loud : whether he is becoming his father , or replacing a ghost.
it is around this time that he begins traveling to willow glen. not as a son seeking comfort. not as a man seeking escape. but as an executor of something unfinished. he arrives alone. no wife beside him. no child in tow. no carefully constructed family portrait to soften the edges of who he is. only bruce kwon, executive chairman in waiting , stepping into a place that feels almost insultingly ordinary compared to the world he comes from.
willow glen is smaller than anything he is used to. slower. warmer in a way he does not trust. people speak without measuring every consequence first. they laugh too easily. they live without thinking about legacy in every breath. and in the center of it is bonnie. his sister, who somehow exists as the exact inverse of everything he has become. where bruce is restraint , she is expression. where he is calculation , she is instinct. where he is silence , she is presence. she moves through rooms like she belongs in them without asking permission. people remember her name not because they are afraid of it , but because they want to.
he cannot understand it. not fully. not in a way that fits into any of his frameworks. and that inability turns into something sharper over time. because bonnie is not just different from him — she is proof that the world could have shaped them differently. that khg did not have to produce only him. that the same blood , the same upbringing , the same empire could result in someone who feels instead of calculates , who connects instead of controls.
it unsettles him more than he would ever admit. and still , he keeps coming back. to willow glen. to her. to the quiet contradiction she represents. because somewhere beneath duty , beneath legacy , beneath the slow death of his father’s reign , bruce kwon begins to realize something he has never had language for: that he was not only built to inherit an empire. he was also built in opposition to his sister. and she might be the only person who has ever made him feel like he is not entirely in control of who he is becoming.
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* ╰ 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 graham + cooper ( @r0ughcut ) › 𝑠𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 : discovery park.
it wasn't that they had once been great. it was that they had once been the best. seeing lone stars memorabilia lining the hall felt jarring in a way graham hadn't expected. framed photographs and championship banners , a crisp blue and silver jersey hanging beneath glass , briggs stitched proudly across the back. relics of a life that still felt close enough to touch and that was the worst part , he still had fight left in him. maybe that's what made retirement hurt so goddamn much.
what do you say to the man who slept with your wife ? to the man who knew every intimate detail of your life because there had never been a reason to keep secrets ? what do you say to the person you fought beside for years , a brother in every sense of the word , right up until he wasn't ? graham still didn't have an answer. “ you look like shit , riley. ” the words came easily enough as he tugged the brim of his baseball cap lower , like it might hide the fact that seeing cooper still felt a little like taking a skate blade to the ribs.
“ yeah , well , not much has changed then , mate. ” cooper grunted , hands shoved deep into his pockets , the brim of his hat pulled low enough to shadow his eyes. he felt ridiculous standing there. two blokes pushing seven feet tall apiece , lingering in what amounted to a shrine dedicated to themselves. “ fuckin' christ , it's like i died , not retired. ” his gaze drifted over the memorabilia lining the walls. framed jerseys. signed sticks. photographs frozen in time. somewhere overhead , muted footage played on a loop — goals , fights , celebrations. highlight after highlight from a lifetime ago. they'd done that. for a few years there, they'd been untouchable. the old guard. franchise players. legends , if you listened to the people around town.
it felt strange looking at it now … like he was watching someone else's life. “ you talked to elaine ? " the question came quietly as he shifted his weight , eyes still fixed on a photograph of the two of them hoisting the cup overhead , younger and dumber and convinced nothing could ever touch them. “ 'cause i sure as hell haven't. ” and that was the truth of it. the woman at the center of the whole bloody disaster. did he regret it ? every day. but regret was cheap. words even cheaper. nothing he could say now would unfuck what he'd done.
“ bon said it's been handled. no need to worry about her runnin' off to tmz or whatever the fuck. ” he exhaled heavily , scrubbing a hand over the rough stubble along his jaw. “ always cleanin' up our messes , ain't she ? ” there was something tired in his voice. fond , maybe. guilty , definitely. he fell silent after that , eyes dropping to the floor. because the truth was , he didn't know how to fix this.
“ m’sorry i didn’t give you more of a heads-up, ” mavis shrinks, smearing a sheepish smile upon her face, as she waddles, rain-soaked and shivering, through cooper’s front door. she is already apologizing to him, even though she had pinky-promised herself that she would not, that her being here was not inappropriate, and that what she had to ask of him was, like, totally reasonable, actually— and, still, she was anxious to upset the closing of this gap between them, afraid that she might fall through it, instead, and down and down and down she would go, forever, like that alice after her rabbit.
“ . . . i wasn’t sure i was gonna come, ‘til a few days ago. ” she is swiftly kicking away her shoes as soon as her feet have crossed the threshold, a habit born of sharing one’s home with someone so ill as their mother. her routine would have her peeling off a tri-fold mask, next, were she to be wearing one; and then, on to the kitchen to wash her hands— she might even doff her outside clothes and throw them into the laundry, if allotted the time. but, without all of these trappings, in a place so unfamiliar to her, and, yet, vaguely otherwise, mavis will stand there; dripping, a little, and unsure of what to do next.
she takes a wink to really look at him, worried that she might find him entirely altered to her, had been sick with that worry the whole way here, but— no. there, he is; her brother, her bear, all six feet and four inches of him, appearing to be, to her loving eyes, the same guardian angel that he had always been. maybe, with the exception of a new sprinkling of grey hairs. mavis wants to embrace him, to run right into his arms and be squished there, like she would when she was a child, but, now, she hesitates; she doesn’t know if he would like that.
she does almost reach for him, anyway, but remembers the bandage wrapped around her hand, and so flinches before it is fully revealed, tucking it back into the sleeve of her sweater.
“ thought i maybe had the wrong address, at first, ” and for those few hours that she had been sat on the stairs outside of his building, gripping tight to her little suitcase, waiting for him. “ m’sure glad you showed up when you did, i could’ve been washed away! ” at this, she finally chortles, a more typically-mavis sound to be made. “ . . . i’ve, um. i have missed you. ” shying under the weight of what she would like to say, of what she will say, of what she will make herself say— “ mum . . . well, i’m sure she does too. y’know, in her way. that’s why . . . well, she’s why i’m here, coop— ”
it was unexpected , but not unwanted. “ christ alive , mav ... ” the words left him on a breath as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her farther inside. the house still didn't feel like his yet. it echoed too much. smelled too new. looked half-abandoned with boxes stacked against the walls and furniture scattered wherever the movers had decided to leave it. he stopped when they reached the couch , still draped beneath a tarp from when it'd been dropped off a few days ago.
" yeah , you could've , " he grumbled softly. “ that's why people call before showin' up. ” there wasn't any real bite to it. he reached up , brushing a few damp strands of hair away from her face the same way he'd done since she was little. some habits never left. with his free hand , he tugged the quilt out from beneath eggy. the cat voiced his displeasure immediately , letting out an offended noise that cooper ignored entirely. he draped the blanket around mavis' shoulders before lowering himself onto his haunches in front of her. “ yeah , i know. i just ... i haven't ... ” the words trailed off. once upon a time , he'd called every other day. after games. after road trips. after fights. he'd ring them up grinning ear to ear , tell them about goals and wins and locker room bullshit. he'd held the cup over his head and thanked his mum and sister on national television without a second thought.
those days felt like they belonged to somebody else. “ mavvy ... ” he buried his face in his hands , scrubbing roughly at his eyes. " she's ... " his voice cracked. “ fuck. ” for a moment he couldn't look at her. “ she's not gettin' better , is she ? ” there it was. the question he'd been avoiding for months. because if he asked it out loud , then he had to live with the answer. guilt settled heavy in his chest , familiar as an old injury. he should've been there. should've called more. should've gone home. instead he'd spent months running — from her , from hockey , from bonnie , from himself. from this.
he pushed himself to his feet too quickly. “ i'm ... i need a beer. ” he didn't. not really. but drinking had always been easier than feeling. he turned toward the kitchen , running a hand through his hair. " you need anythin' ? think i've got ..." he opened the fridge and stared blankly into its pathetic contents. “ fuckin' protein powder , maybe. eggs. ” he looked back at her , managing a weak smile. " sorry. turns out livin' alone means nobody tells you when you've run out of actual food. "
the punch landed hard enough to turn jason's head. for a moment all he tasted was blood. copper flooded his mouth as he stood there breathing through his nose , staring at the floor of bonnie's kitchen. bonnie's apartment. bonnie's home. the place where she'd let both of them in far more than either deserved. there were photographs on the refrigerator. a half-empty coffee mug sat beside the sink. a cardigan she'd left draped over a chair hung forgotten in the corner. all those little pieces of her life surrounded them while they stood there acting like animals.
something in him snapped. before cooper could say another word , jason surged forward and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. years of hockey training and raw strength took over. he drove cooper backward until his shoulders hit the wall with enough force to rattle the frame hanging beside them. the impact echoed through the apartment. jason had barely noticed. his blood was pounding too loudly in his ears. he could feel his pulse in his jaw , in his hands , in the ache spreading across his face where cooper had hit him. for once , there was no smirk. no joke. no smartass comment waiting to defuse the situation. he was genuinely angry.
" you don't get to stand there and act like i'm the bad guy, " he spat. his grip tightened against cooper's shirt. " you don't get to talk about her like she's yours. "
the words came easier now that they were finally out. maybe because he'd spent months swallowing them. months watching bonnie twist herself into knots trying to help cooper. months watching her make excuses for him. months watching her walk around with red eyes after nights she swore she was fine. jason had always been crude. loud. selfish. the kind of guy who made inappropriate jokes because sincerity made him uncomfortable. but somewhere along the way , things had changed. somewhere between late-night phone calls, fast-food runs , and afternoons spent doing absolutely nothing together , he'd stopped seeing bonnie as another person orbiting his life.
" she still cares about you , " he continued , his voice rough with frustration. " that's the part that drives me fucking crazy. she still worries about you. she still defends you. she still thinks there's something worth saving. and what do you do ? you make her cry. "
the accusation hung heavily between them. jason could picture it too clearly. bonnie disappearing into her room. bonnie forcing smiles she didn't mean. bonnie pretending she wasn't hurt because she didn't want to burden anyone else. every memory tightened around his chest until it was difficult to breathe. the worst part wasn't that cooper hated him. it wasn't that cooper thought he was some entitled rookie trying to take his place. the worst part was knowing bonnie would keep giving pieces of herself away until there was nothing left if somebody didn't stop it.
his grip loosened slightly as another realization settled over him. it hit harder than the punch ever could have. his entire life he'd expected people to chase him. his parents fixed every mistake. girlfriends called first. coaches bent rules for him. he'd spent twenty-something years believing love was something he received. something handed to him because he was charming enough , talented enough , important enough. then bonnie happened. and for the first time in his life he didn't want to be the center of somebody else's world.
he wanted to be there for hers.
the thought settled into place with startling clarity.
" i love her. "
the confession left his mouth before he could stop it.
for a second , neither of them moved. jason stared at cooper , hearing the words echo back at him. it was the first time he'd ever said them aloud. there was no taking them back now. no disguising them as a joke. no pretending they meant something else.
" yeah, " he said quietly, swallowing hard. " i love her. "
the truth felt terrifying. freeing. painful.
" i don't care if she never picks me. i don't care if she never loves me back. i don't care if i spend the rest of my life being nothing more than her friend. i just want her to be happy. "
his hand finally released cooper's shirt. " that's the difference between us. you think this is about winning. you think i'm trying to take something from you. i'm not. if you made her happy, i'd walk away tomorrow. i'd hate every second of it, but i'd do it. "
jason stepped back , chest heaving as the adrenaline slowly drained from his body. the kitchen suddenly felt smaller. quieter. every emotion he'd spent months avoiding sat exposed between them.
“ but you don't make her happy anymore. ” his voice softened then , somehow becoming more dangerous than the shouting.
“ and i'm not gonna stand here and watch you keep breaking her just because you're too afraid to let her go. ”
something shifted in the kitchen. it was subtle. not the kind of thing anyone else would've noticed. cooper straightened , rolling his shoulders as though preparing for another fight , but the swagger was gone now. the adrenaline was still there , still burning hot beneath his skin , but it had curdled into something uglier. heavier. that familiar feeling settling in his gut — the one that always showed up after the damage was done. the reminder that no matter how many times he promised himself he'd keep his temper in check , he'd always find a way to let it off the leash. his gaze settled on jason. the sneer had disappeared and in its place was something harder to read. it would've been easier if the kid had looked scared. easier if he'd backed down. cooper knew how to deal with fear. knew how to dismiss people like jason as spoiled , naive , too young to understand how the world actually worked. except he'd said it with conviction.
love. like it was the simplest thing in the world , like it didn't cost anything. and that pissed cooper off more than the punch ever had. because he knew that look. he'd caught it a hundred times. the way jason looked at bonnie. like she hung the fucking moon. like every room got brighter when she walked into it. truth be told , cooper couldn't even blame him. " everyone loves her , " he said finally , the words rough around the edges. “ she's bonnie. ” his jaw tightened. maybe saying everyone was easier than saying himself. maybe if he hid behind the crowd , it wouldn't sound so pathetic. he didn't know. hell , he didn't know much of anything anymore. he crossed to the fridge and yanked it open. empty. no beer , of course. the door slammed hard enough to rattle the frame. magnets clattered onto the floor. and just like that , he did what he always did when something got too close to the truth.
he lashed out. a humorless laugh escaped him. “ she's never gonna love you back. ” the words landed like a knife. “ you think i'm the villain in this story ? that i'm the only selfish bastard in the room ? ” he shook his head. “ you don't know a fuckin' thing. ” his eyes darkened. “ she lets me in. every single time. she opens the door. she answers the phone. she picks me up when i'm too stupid to stand on my own two feet. ” another bitter laugh. " and after every shitty thing i've done , every reason i've given her to walk away , she still stays. "
the jealousy was obvious now. ugly. poisonous. “ that's what you'll never understand. ” he stepped closer. “ you see the version of her that smiles at you. the version that lets you play hero. ” his lip curled. “ i get the rest. ” his voice dropped lower. “ i get the ugly parts. the angry parts. the parts she hides from everyone else. ” the words came faster now , crueler because he wanted them to be. because if he could hurt jason first , maybe he wouldn't have to think about how terrified he was. “ she might like you. hell , maybe she enjoys havin' you around. ” his gaze locked onto the younger man. “ but when things get bad ? when life actually sinks its teeth into her ? ” cooper tapped his chest once. “ she comes to me. ” the confidence sounded forced now. desperate enough to crack if anyone looked too closely.
“ because no matter how much she hates me... ” his throat tightened. “ ... she's never stopped choosing me. ”
it was almost funny to watch , the sheer size of cooper alone enough to make him stick out like a sore thumb amongst the aisle of the sephora . spoon is dipped into her cup of ice cream , plastic meeting her mouth with a decent bite of the cookies and cream she'd been picking over for the last ten minutes . " trust me , coop ⸺ even if it's the wrong shade i'm sure she'll appreciate the gesture . . . plus it's got the bunny on it , doesn't she love those ? " could've sworn she'd seen a couple floating around her instagram story , if that wasn't a sign she didn't know what was .
" okay , two scoops of ice cream is the absolute least you could do after you gave me that migraine dragging me through that bath and body works only to not even pick anything from there , " annoyance in her voice is only playful , free hand used to push the door open to a boutique jewelry shop , greeted by name by the jeweler stood behind the glass case . " now i need your opinion on something ⸺ you're a man so , i feel like you'd know better than me , " last bite of ice cream is taken before cup is tossed to the trash near the door , leading cooper towards an already arranged selection of designer wedding bands reflecting in their display. " i don't know which one beau would like ⸺ i mean . . . i know which one i think he'd like but , i don't know , i don't want it to be too flashy , you know ? " beau was never the type , always classy , looked expensive but never without taste . " i was thinking this one ? “ cartier d'amour band is plucked from the selection , held up to cooper's eye level so he could have a better look . “ i just ⸺ i don't know , ” she's audibly frantic , had already spent too much time mulling over the decision that now she was starting to second guess . ” he's gonna be wearing this thing every day i want it to match with a lot of his stuff but i also want it to look like ' yea . . . my wife got this for me ' , you know ? "
" she does , " cooper admitted after a moment , sounding almost thoughtful. “ i don't. that little fucker chewed through one of my jerseys. ” a visible shudder rolled through him at the memory. bonnie's rabbit had somehow declared war on him from the moment they'd met , and cooper was convinced the thing acted out of pure spite. " well , i was gonna pick somethin' from there , " he added , jerking his chin toward the store they'd abandoned. “ but you told me it was a shite idea. ” he stuffed his hands into his pockets , letting himself be dragged farther down the display while pretending he wasn't completely out of his depth.
" the disney fuckin' prince of willow glen , eh ? " he teased, glancing sideways at her. “ tell me , love , who spends longer on their hair ? him or you ? ” the joke earned him a look from a nearby employee. cooper immediately cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “ men don't like this stuff. ” he gestured vaguely toward the sea of jewelry cases as though the entire concept offended him. " cook him a meal. buy him tickets to a sports game. hell , let him win an argument once in a while. " he shrugged. " don't know the bloke that well , but i'd wager he'd be more upset you spent money on him than if you showed up empty-handed. "
even so , when she held the ring out again , he took it. the metal looked ridiculously delicate sitting in his rough , calloused palm. cooper turned it beneath the light , studying it with surprising care. “ hmm. ” his thumb brushed over the band. " if you want my honest-to-god opinion ... " his brow furrowed slightly. “ i think somethin' with a bit more texture would suit him better. ” he handed it back , gaze drifting over the rest of the display. “ somethin' that looks like it'd survive gettin' knocked around a bit. ”
the world tilted and suddenly she was suspended, her back against his chest, her legs draped over his forearms like she weighed nothing. the position was obscene—knees spread wide, cunt exposed to the cool air, her own slick glistening on her inner thighs. the angle was devastating. gravity did most of the work, her body sinking down onto that thick shaft inch by unbearable inch. bonnie's head fell back against his shoulder. her mouth opened. no sound came out—just a silent scream, her vocal cords frozen. too deep.
the head of him pressed against something inside her that made her vision spark. her cervix. the blunt, insistent pressure of it made her whole body seize. he dropped her the rest of the way. bonnie's scream was raw. nearly inhuman. her cunt clamped down on him in a series of fluttering spasms, trying to accommodate the invasion. she felt cooper groan against her spine when his hips begin to move. it wasn't slow or gentle. the same brutal piston rhythm he'd used on her throat, but now it was aimed upward, driving into her from below. no gravity. no leverage. just the strength of his arms and the relentless pump of his hips.
thwack thwack thwack.
his balls slapped her clit with every stroke. the sound filled the apartment—wet and rhythmic and utterly obscene. bonnie couldn't close her legs. couldn't do anything but hang there, suspended, while he used her. “oh my gooood!” the words tore out of her. she didn't recognize her own voice. didn't recognize the animal sounds coming from her throat. "please," she begged. “please, please, please—” please what? she didn't know. stop. don't stop. harder. slower. her brain had short-circuited and now she was just a body—a wet, aching, overstimulated body suspended in cooper's grip. her cunt clenched at the praise and she just felt him thrust harder.
“captain—” just for a moment bonnie felt his hips stutter. then he was fucking her faster, deeper, the head of his cock hammering against that spot inside her that made her see white. “captain. captain.” each repetition made her more feral. she felt his rhythm fracture, how his breath came in harsh pants against her shoulder blade. she could feel him swelling inside her—that telltale thickening that meant he was close but he didn't slow down. his cock hit her cervix again. hard. the pressure was blinding—too much and not enough all at once—and bonnie felt something inside her crack open.
“cooper!” her orgasm hit like a freight train. but it wasn't like the others. this one was wetter. her cunt gushed around him, hot liquid flooding down his shaft, drenching his balls, her thighs, the carpet below. she felt it happen—felt the release of it—and the sensation was so overwhelming that she sobbed.
the scent of her arousal mixed with the feeling of her juices splashing against his pelvis made him groan out in pleasure. he was almost there too—almost—but he pulled out, rubbing his shaft against her swollen pussy. the head caught her clit, and he chuckled when she twitched in his grip. cooper wasn't done. he pushed her down onto the couch and spread her legs open. gripping his cock, he slapped it against her pussy, rubbing the head around before repeating the motion. "dirty fuckin' whore," he growled, “makin' a mess.”
he didn't wait for a response. he slid inside her—finally. his cock buried to the hilt, a throbbing, full presence that made her gasp at the sudden stillness. a low, animal sound rumbled from his chest, his big hands grabbed her hips, hauling her body up and repositioning her with a roughness that cared little for her comfort. he wanted the angle, the view, the feeling. cooper admired the sight. the way her flushed, swollen lips stretched obscenely wide around the thick base of his shaft. his own thick girth, glistening with their combined wetness, disappearing into her. it was his. all his. he hooked his hands under her knees, pulling her legs up and apart, draping them over his broad shoulders without ceremony. the new position folded her almost in half, her ass lifted off the couch, her pussy completely exposed and vulnerable to his total possession.
then he pushed in. not a thrust—a slow, inexorable, deep invasion. he watched her face how her eyes flew wide, her mouth opened in a silent o as he kept going, deeper than before, deeper than what should have been comfortable, until the broad head of his cock met the firm, yielding resistance of her cervix and pressed—bruised—with his insistence.
“there,” he breathed, a feral grin curling across his face. “now we're connected.”
he started to move. this was a different kind of fucking. shorter, harder, deeper strokes with no escape. each drive forward hammered his pelvis against her ass; his heavy balls slapped rhythmically against her winking, untouched asshole with every powerful withdrawal and subsequent plunge. slap. thrust. slap. thrust. the lewd, wet sound became a metronome for their ragged breathing.
he looked down at her—at the perfect, round globes of her ass jiggling with his assault, at the red marks his fingers were leaving on her thighs, at the absolute wreck he was making of her pussy. a possessive heat, primal and urgent, coiled tight in his sac. “gonna fill you up,” he promised, the words guttural and thick with intent. his pace increased, became punishing—a relentless piston driving into her deepest, most sensitive core. “yeah? gonna pump you so full of my seed it leaks out of you for days. that's all you're good for, isn't it? this perfect, tight cunt, taking my cock, taking my load...” he was close. so close. the pressure built at the base of his spine, a white-hot coil of pure need. her inner muscles spasmed around him, a frantic, fluttering rhythm that pushed him right to the edge.
“FUUUUCK BONNIE!” he shouted into the empty apartment—and came inside her, spurts of hot cum flooding her insides. he collapsed over her, weight settling carefully as if instinct was the only thing keeping him from shaking apart. a rough exhale left him, breath still uneven. "fuck," he muttered under his breath, the word breaking more than it landed.
he caught her mouth in a hard, searching kiss first—then another that slowed, softened, like something in him had finally caught up to the moment. when he pulled back just enough, there was a faint, disbelieving laugh in his chest.
“fuckin’ hell, angel...” his forehead hovered near hers for a beat, his grip still steadying rather than letting go. "you okay?"
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crossing the lawn in long , confident strides , cooper almost felt like himself again. there was something familiar about showing up uninvited with a stupid idea and enough nerve to see it through. he rapped twice against the door with his knuckles before stepping back , hands slipping into his pockets as he waited. the second ollie opened it , his breath caught just enough to betray him. " pilates payin' off , is it ? " he drawled , a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth while making absolutely no effort to hide where his eyes wandered before finding hers again.
“ got you somethin'. ” from behind his back , he produced a single carrot , complete with its leafy green top , holding it out with all the seriousness of a man presenting a bouquet. “ y'know ... just in case you need to ward off any horses. ” the smirk only deepened. “ figured it'd be more useful than flowers. ”
the first thing she noticed was the bandage on his hand and the red mixed within the white. “dude, are you okay? who’d you beat up?” she moved swiftly off the bar top and over to the cooler where she grabbed a bottle of beer. she sat it on the bar and patted next to it. “i see you could use that more than i want to leave,” she said as she leaned against the bar on her forearms. “but seriously, do you need me to like re bandage that? i have a first aid kit in my bag.” she was always prepared for anything that may arise in the bar and at home; something she got real good at after awhile.
" don't remember , " he mumbled , words slurring together as his legs carried him to the bar on instinct alone. the stool scraped beneath him when he dropped onto it with a tired grunt , shoulders heavy , elbows settling against the worn wood. “ thanks , doll. ” he took a long , punishing swallow , letting the beer chase away the taste of blood and bad decisions before exhaling through his nose. “ yeah ... you'd do that for me ? ” his eyes found hers then , glassy around the edges but still searching. " pretty girls usually don't like gettin' their hands dirty. " a crooked smile tugged at one corner of his mouth , more self deprecating than teasing. " reckon they leave that to blokes like me. "
" i feel like shit. you've got your girl in there , mate. sorry. " he jerked his chin toward the house , its windows glowing amber against the night , the fire on the porch throwing enough warmth to fool anyone into thinking everything inside was okay. he rubbed hard at his eyes. fourth beer , maybe fifth. he'd stopped counting after the second.
" i'm six foot seven , i can handle it , " he muttered when merrick tried to reel him in , the words coming out more stubborn than convincing. after a long pause , his shoulders sagged. “ it's over. ” he dragged a hand down his face , jaw tight enough to ache. " and the worst part is ... i don't think she even knows how much i wanted it not to be. "
it wasn't that cooper had never lived on his own. he had. the difference was that he'd always had someone quietly keeping the wheels from falling off , usually in the form of a five foot something woman with an attitude problem who'd replace the empty milk , tell him to throw out expired leftovers , and somehow make his place look lived in instead of abandoned.
left to his own devices , things deteriorated fast. the fridge was proof enough. a guest could swing the door open and find exactly four things: beer , eggs , half a bottle of hot sauce , and a lemon he couldn't remember buying. he'd stare at the shelves for a second like the food might magically appear if he looked hard enough. " i don't fuckin' know ... " he muttered with a helpless shrug , rounding the kitchen island and scratching his beard. “ we could order pizza or somethin' ? ”
he didn't mean to stop in. that's what he'll tell anyone who asks. now there's a gangly mutt with one floppy ear pressed against the kennel door staring at him like they've known each other for years. cooper crouches , rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “ don't look at me like that , mate. i've barely got my own life together. “ the dog thumps its tail harder. he sighs heavily and glances toward whoever's nearby. ” think the little bastard knows i'm about to make a terrible financial decision ? ”
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trigger warning: the following thread contains themes of child loss , pregnancy loss , depression and emotional distress.it is being posted for ongoing plot development and character exploration. reader discretion is strongly advised. if any of these subjects may be upsetting or triggering for you, please prioritize your well-being and refrain from interacting.
anxiety had always lived inside bonnie. it settled over her shoulders like a rain-soaked coat that never quite dried, heavy enough that she forgot other people walked around without feeling its weight. it started somewhere beneath her ribs and spread downward until it pooled in her stomach, making every silence feel dangerous and every mistake feel permanent. the psychiatrist had looked at her chart for all of fifteen minutes before saying,
bonnie, you have depression. it's only going to get worse if you don't do something about it.
she'd stared at him then, wondering what kind of doctor could be so blunt. it wasn't supposed to be this way. she had done everything right. she went to college. she worked harder than everyone around her. she took every opportunity her privileged upbringing afforded her and turned it into something tangible, something she could point to and say, i earned this part myself.
some nights, though, none of it mattered. her phone buzzed on the coffee table and she picked it up without thinking.
coach griffin abruptly announces retirement after cheating speculation with lone stars pr manager. divorces from wife of thirteen years.
three and a half years old. three and a half years, and she still couldn't stop herself from reading it.
" fuck. "
the word came quietly , then louder.
" fuck! "
she threw the phone across the room, where it disappeared beneath the couch with a dull crack. by the time cooper arrived, she had already cried herself empty once. he didn't come for her, he came for his things: a duffel bag. some clothes she'd accidentally washed with her own laundry. a razor left in her bathroom cabinet. shoes by the front door. little pieces of a life they'd quietly built together before deciding they needed distance more than they needed each other.
she let him in without ceremony and neither of them spoke. california had only been a few weeks ago. everyone assumed she'd gone home to visit family. to see her parents. to play the role she'd perfected years ago: the successful daughter with expensive handbags and an even more expensive smile.
the truth had fit inside a hospital bracelet , inside the silence of a hotel bathroom. the truth had followed her home inside her suitcase.
cooper's back was turned as he knelt to zip up the duffel. bonnie watched him for a long moment before the words escaped her.
“ i can't. ”
" i can't. "
her voice cracked on the second one. it felt like trying to hold back the ocean with both hands.
“ i got pregnant. ” she didn't know why that was the sentence she chose. maybe because saying anything after it would make it real. he stopped moving. she looked at the hardwood floor instead of him.
“ i didn't know what to do. ” her fingers twisted together until they hurt. " i was scared. i was so scared, coop. "
her laugh was small and broken. " i kept thinking i'd tell you tomorrow. then tomorrow became next week. then i convinced myself i should wait until i knew what i wanted. "
the words came apart as quickly as they formed. “ by the time i went to california ... i woke up before my appointment. ” she swallowed so hard it hurt. “ there was blood. ” the memory arrived all at once. cold tile beneath her feet. white sheets ruined in seconds and the impossible amount of red.
the frantic belief that if she could just clean herself fast enough , none of it would be happening. she remembered sitting on the bathroom floor with a towel clutched between shaking hands , staring at nothing while the morning sun crept through the blinds. she remembered realizing there wasn't anyone to call. she remembered understanding before anyone had to tell her.
bonnie's knees buckled. she didn't fall gracefully. she folded in on herself the way children do when they're too overwhelmed to stay upright, sinking to the floor with clumsy desperation until she was curled there, shoulders shaking, hands pressed over her face as though hiding might undo it.
" i'm sorry. "
the apology spilled out before she even knew who it was for.
" i'm so sorry. "
she wasn't looking at him anymore. she couldn't. the words kept coming anyway. “ i tried. i swear i tried. ” her breathing hitched into something dangerously close to panic. “ i wanted to tell you. i wanted to tell you so many times. ” she dragged the heels of her palms against her eyes until the skin turned pink.
" i'm sorry. "
again.
and again.
like repetition could turn it into absolution. like if she apologized enough, maybe he wouldn't look at her differently. maybe he wouldn't think she'd failed him. maybe he wouldn't leave with his duffel bag and never come back. bonnie's head bowed lower until her forehead nearly touched the floor.
" i ruin everything. "
the sentence barely rose above a whisper.
" i couldn't even... "
she couldn't finish it.
the rest lived somewhere behind her ribs, too sharp to survive being spoken aloud. instead she looked toward him through blurred eyes, not like the sharp-tongued woman who always had an answer, but like a frightened little girl waiting for someone to tell her she'd be forgiven for something she never meant to lose.
cooper had come here without ceremony. just grab his things and leave. that had been the agreement after the argument, after all the shouting and all the things neither of them could ever seem to take back. he hadn't expected to mourn the place on his way out, but he did. it was cluttered in all the right ways. warm even when the windows were open. it smelled faintly of coffee and rabbit hay and whatever candle she'd burned into the walls. it felt like home in a way nowhere else ever had. it felt like her.
he was crouched by an open box when she spoke. for one suspended second, it was as though gravity had forgotten about him entirely. the words didn't register so much as detonate. they tore through his chest with the clean precision of a bullet, leaving behind nothing but ringing silence. she had carried this alone. she had buried it somewhere so deep that even he, with all his watching and worrying and stalking the edges of her life, had never seen it. the air vanished from his lungs. when he finally stood, it was clumsy, the room tilting beneath him. she was folded over herself like she was trying to disappear, and something old and instinctive took over before his brain ever caught up.
“hey. hey.” he reached for her wrists first, gently prying her hands away from her face. “bonnie. stop, angel. look at me.” she couldn't. so he didn't ask again , he simply gathered her up. lifting her was effortless, as if she'd always belonged there, tucked against his chest where every protective instinct he'd ever possessed screamed she ought to be. one hand spread across the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair, the other holding her so securely that nothing in the world could've pulled her away. "sssh," he murmured, rocking almost without thinking. “sssh, angel. s'alright. i've got you. i've got you.” the words felt pitifully small against something so enormous. his palm moved in slow circles between her shoulder blades, steady and patient. there was no captain now, no soldier, no angry bastard who broke furniture and picked fights because he didn't know what else to do with himself.
there was only bear. her bear. the one part of him that had always belonged to her. he could feel his own throat tightening, grief clawing its way upward, but he swallowed it down. there would be time for him later. this wasn't his hurt to carry first. he pulled back only enough to cup her face, rough thumbs brushing away tears faster than they could fall. "you didn't do anything wrong," he said with quiet certainty. "d'you hear me? not a bloody thing."
his forehead rested against hers. “angel...” the word cracked. he shut his eyes for a moment, willing himself to stay steady for her. “breathe with me, yeah? that's it. come on, baby. just breathe.” he drew in one slow breath himself, hoping she'd follow.
"in..."
another shaky exhale.
"out..."
his hands never left her. “you ain't carryin' this by yourself anymore.” and for perhaps the first time in his life, cooper riley meant every single word without needing to shout it.
cooper has long since given up pretending the move is organized. half his life is still packed into mismatched cardboard boxes , each one labeled in thick black marker with deeply unhelpful descriptions like SHIT , MORE SHIT , and KITCHEN ? one particularly overstuffed box slips from his grip as he hauls it up the porch steps , spilling a tangle of hockey tape , old photographs , and enough loose batteries to power a small town. he stares at the mess for a beat before scrubbing a hand down his face. " right then , " he mutters dryly , “ any chance you've got a stronger back than me , or are ya just gonna stand there enjoyin' the show ? ”
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