#but I said I thought I was paying for myself

[ohmygoly]

I dont typically like getting political on tumblr because I know the crowd of people who typically follow the fandoms I'm in. I know the crowd of people who usually pay attention to such fandom cultures in the first place, and I truly don't want to make myself such an enemy in anyone's eyes. But also, I don't want people irrationally scared that the new Hitler is coming to make their lives awful and oppress them in every way imaginable. Because to act like America is about to become Nazi Germany is to prove how out of touch you are with what other countries are doing and also just extra anxiety on your part that doesn't need to exist. I want your life to be less stressful, I really don't want anyone afraid for their life when it's unnecessary. Besides this "checklist" I want to comment on, remember that many changes aren't probably gonna feel very personal to you and while you might notice some slight differences, the day to day will probably be the same as it is through every presidential transition. Some things are cheaper/more expensive maybe, maybe your office or school has some slight alterations, but thats usually about it.

I don't hate anyone. I have met and become friends with more people I disagree with on a lot of important points than I do people I agree with on said issues. The scenarios in which I have met these people have allowed me to see how friendly, creative, and talented they are. It has also allowed me to see just how precarious and overdramatized interactions and relationships with them can be. This does not even include the internet or social media.

"Powerful and Continuing Nationalism" Americans value America first. A healthy country wants to succeed, and to want something to succeed you have to love it first. If you would prefer every other country over the one you live in, then don't live in it. But there is no logic in wanting a country to have influence and do better and actually progress whilst also despising its existence as a country. Plus, most of the "America first" sentiments don't pair with a "hurt other countries" sentiment. More like a "they can and should handle their own problems" one. If you can respect any amount of individual freedom, responsibility, or self pride, then you should be able to respect it on the national scale.

"Disdain For Human Rights" Its not that anyone in power at the moment disdains human rights. In fact, they know that within the government, every human has the right to pretty much everything. Anyone can run for office, vote, start a business, not be discriminated against as a potential employee or customer, and overall do pretty much whatever they like. What they don't want is those rights to be taken away because someone is offended or inconvenienced. Most republicans don't even actually mind trans people, they just dont want children permanently altered or women's safety threatened. If you have the right to sleep with whoever you want, dress however you want, and call yourself whatever you want then why shouldnt others have the right to live, be safe in their own spaces, consent to who gets to see their body, to their speech and opinions (offensive or not)? Those things can live side by side. In fact, the best you can do when it comes to human rights is not over manage speech. They should, however, manage some actions that can have harmful/permanent effects.

"Identification of Enemies as a Unifying Cause" This is clearly about illegal immigrants and trans people. Again, no one thinks trans people are the enemy. More so the ideology since overall it blatantly refuses the truth of sex, any self responsibility (you choose how you present yourself to people and how you manage your own thoughts and feelings), or any concern for others' feelings and safety that isn't a trans person. It would be like saying because someone hates depression they hate all depressed people. No. You as a person can still be good and deserving of all your human rights, but the ideas themselves aren't helpful to any society. Illegal immigrants aren't being threatened with mass genocide or really much violence at all. Rather, if they havent committed other crimes within the country that would deserve actual punishment they are simply facing return back to the country they came from. It is immoral to allow illegal immigrants in the country, not only for the safety of the citizens that the politicians swore to protect but also because it is exploitative. It's also dangerous to make it here, so why would you want to encourage people to risk their lives to come to a place where they can't enjoy all the rights of being a citizen?

"Rampant Sexism" As a woman, I can say with absolute certainty that I do not see one ounce of blatant sexism from the politicians coming into power and I certainly do not feel politically oppressed in any way. There are many other cultures where sexism is even worse, if you can even call anything in America actual sexism, but I'm sure it would be considered racist to make such a claim. Its not as if middle eastern women are fighting for their lives and education and equality or anything. Us Americans have it so bad because sometimes a man says something weird and gross. The most sexist thing I've ever come across on a societal scale within my life is the prioritization of men who say they're women over actual women. But we definitely don't see the new people in office supporting that sentiment.

"Controlled Mass Media" This is the only one I will give even the slightest ounce of credit, simply because I know the government would prefer Meta over other companies and they did ban tiktok/almost ban tiktok? In any case, if you can still get news from pretty much every political ideology, access any other social media website, shop at the "Banned Books" section of a book store, and access literally any other form of media that has existed throughout our history then your media is most likely not very controlled. The thing with social media specifically is that it is still so new so we will obviously need to figure out how to navigate that within our physical world but that isn't a sign of a fascist country, thats simply a sign that we are facing a rapid change in technology and don't know how to handle it yet. Its a great thing we have a constitution and hella rebellious citizens who will make finding the best, least oppressive solutions easier here than probably anywhere else on the planet!

"Obsession with National Security" The only reason there's a surge in national security is because there has also been a surge in threats against the security of this nation. Through many foreign nations and within our own borders. This country cannot be successful and cannot help any other country in the world if we are falling apart while we are doing it.

"Religion and Government Intertwined" There is a difference between politicians being religious and it actually being intertwined with our government. Most government policies made are based on our constitution and how we can best respect the rights given to us through it. The religion of any of the politicians is not going to become mandatory or oppressive to anyone not of that religion, because that is not the goal. Anyone can come up with the sentiment that they need to fix the way the government runs and protect the rights of their citizens. Yes, religion might influence some of their opinions on things and a few of their changes, but if you elect someone you have to accept that they have ideas about things. Thats just how it works. Overall, religion will not become permanently intertwined with the government or forced upon citizens.

"Labor Power Suppressed" Last I checked, you can get any job you want. Literally, you can quit any job you don't like, and just go find a new one. Not to mention they want to improve businesses and they know that the labor class is very vital to that.

"Rampant Cronyism and Corruption" Corruption is a vague word and a lot of the people in the new administration don't even agree on everything. The main thing they agree on is that they want to see America succeed and that they will respect the elected president's right to see that mandate through, as an elected official. How terrible of a president to hire people that don't hate him and won't sabotage the policy goals he was elected to see through.

Looking more like a checklist these days. I want off this ride. 😭

[iheartlnfour]

always been you | lh43

pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: just friends who finally stop being in denial

warnings: use of y/n, kissing, fluffy romance, not proofread.

a/n: my first real post on tumblrrrr yayyy !! hope u like it <3

ꫂ ၴႅၴ

i don’t remember a time in my life without luke hughes.

some of my earliest memories are of him—messy-haired and wild, running through the backyard, grass stains on his knees, hand wrapped tightly around mine as we chased fireflies in the summer heat. he was always there. through every scraped knee, every school project, every hockey game where i cheered too loudly in the stands.

and somewhere along the way, he became more than just luke.

but i never let myself think about it too much.

because he was my best friend first. and you don’t fall in love with your best friend. even if maybe, just maybe, you already have.

ꫂ ၴႅၴ

“you’re late,” luke grumbled as i slid into the passenger seat of his car.

i rolled my eyes, shoving his arm playfully. “relax. you’re not gonna be late to practice.”

luke sighed dramatically, putting the car in drive. “that’s not the point. you’re always late.”

i grinned. “yeah? and you always wait for me anyway.”

he didn’t respond.

instead, he just drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, eyes focused on the road. he had that look again—the one where he wanted to say something but wouldn’t.

i knew luke like the back of my hand, but sometimes, he was impossible to read.

and right now? he was a locked book.

“spit it out,” i finally said.

luke blinked. “what?”

“you’re thinking about something.”

“i’m always thinking about something.”

i shot him a look. “luke.”

he let out a breath, shaking his head. “it’s nothing.”

i didn’t believe him, but i let it go.

for now.

ꫂ ၴႅၴ

jack and quinn have always been like my older brothers. they were just as much a part of my life as luke was—teasing me, protecting me, making fun of me every chance they got.

so, when jack pulled me aside after dinner one night, his expression unusually serious, i knew something was up.

“what’s going on?” i asked.

jack hesitated. “you and luke.” i frowned. “what about us?”

jack gave me a look. “come on, y/n.”

i crossed my arms, shifting uncomfortably. “there is no me and luke.”

jack scoffed. “yeah, okay. tell that to him.”

my stomach twisted. “jack…”

“you really don’t see it, do you?” jack asked, shaking his head. “he’s been in love with you since we were kids.”

my breath caught in my throat. that wasn’t true. it couldn’t be.

luke was my best friend.

if he felt that way… i would know. right?

but then, flashes of him filled my mind. the way his hand always found mine in a crowded room. the way he looked at me when he thought i wasn’t paying attention. the way he held on just a second too long whenever we hugged.

maybe jack was right. maybe i just didn’t want to see it.

ꫂ ၴႅၴ

a few nights later, i found luke sitting alone on the dock behind his house, staring at the lake.

i sat beside him, nudging his shoulder. “penny for your thoughts?”

luke huffed out a laugh, but it wasn’t his usual one. it was softer. more hesitant.

“you ever feel like… something’s right in front of you, but you’re too scared to reach for it?” he asked.

i swallowed. “yeah.”

luke turned to me then, his blue eyes searching mine. “jack talked to you.”

it wasn’t a question.

i nodded.

he let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “of course, he did.”

“luke…”

he didn’t let me finish.

instead, he reached for my hand—something he had done a million times before, but this time, it felt different. more.

“i’ve loved you for as long as i can remember,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “and i know you might not feel the same, but i can’t keep pretending i don’t.”

my heart pounded against my ribs.

because i did feel the same. i always had.

so, instead of answering, i did the only thing that made sense.

i kissed him and it felt like coming home.

[navybrat817]

Hi lovely! Thank you so much for Valentine's day ficlets ❤️❤️❤️

Could I please have "Go ahead, lock your doors, change your phone number. I’ll still find you.” with Lee Bodecker, pwetty pwease? Thank you!!!

Oh, this man! @perdidosbucky-yyo , since you had also requested Lee.

Late Night Visitor

Pairing: Dark!Lee Bodecker x Female Reader

Summary: The sheriff pays you a visit one night.

Word Count: Over 710

Warnings: Possessive behavior, implied noncon, abuse of power, Lee Bodecker (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You were getting ready for bed when someone knocked on your door. You hadn’t invited anyone over, and it was a bit late for a surprise visitor. Grabbing your robe with a nervous breath, you tiptoed toward the front of your house. Times like this you wished you didn’t live alone. 

Maybe if you had someone looking out for you, they’d keep you safe from-

“Open up, sugar! I know you’re in there!” you heard from the other side of the door. “Ain’t polite to keep the sheriff out in the cold, so show me some hospitality and lemme in.”

You swallowed. Lee Bodecker. People either feared or respected him, or both for some. He thought he ran the town just because he had a badge, and maybe he did. 

But he never inflicted any kind of power over you. He was kind when he stopped into the diner at the same time and day every week. Used his manners with you, always left you a nice tip. So you started bringing some pie you baked from home and gave him a slice to go with his meals. You were just being polite. Nothing more.

You should’ve known he’d take your kindness as some form of courting.

“Bet you’re sweeter than any slice of pie, sugar,” he once said, lust in his eyes that he didn’t bother to hide before he tipped his hat and left.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, resting your hands against the door as if it would keep him out.

“I was hungry and wonderin’ if you had any of that pie for me to eat,” he said. Your stomach rolled as you imagined him licking his lips. “I know you bring ‘em from home just for me.”

“I was being nice,” you said, shrieking when he slammed his fist against the door.

“So was I. ‘S’why I kept them boys off your tail. Smart girl, don’t tell me you forgot?” he snarled. “Time to pay up.”

You closed your eyes. Some guys were giving you a hard time one night during an already painful shift. You mistakenly asked Lee if he could politely ask them to leave. He did. And while they didn’t care to listen to you, they shut up pretty quickly when Lee showed his gun. He made sure they all left you a nice tip, too.

“You know I’ll always take care of you, sugar,” he promised, leaving just a few moments after the group did. 

You found out the next day that Lee arrested them. Something about open alcohol containers and harrassment and resisting arrest. None of the guys around two looked at you twice anymore. You heard the whispers and saw the sneers from some of the women. Everyone thought you belonged to the sheriff.

That was the problem. You weren’t anyone’s property, and Lee would own anyone who ended up with him. That couldn’t be you.

“I didn’t forget. It’s just…” you tried to come up with an excuse. “It’s late, and I’m going to bed.”

“Just lemme in, sugar.” You froze when the door handle jiggled. The unamused chuckle that followed almost made you run. “Open the door and open them legs for me. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You backed away when the handle jiggled again, your heart leaping to your throat. “Please, just go, or I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Call the cops? I am the law, Sugar,” he reminded you. He was right, and none of the deputies would help you. “Will you run? Hide? Go ahead! Lock your doors, change your phone number. I’ll still find you.”

You covered your mouth, but it did little to contain the scream you let out when Lee kicked the door open and stepped inside like he owned the place. You couldn’t back away or run as tears spilled over. Your body knew he was going to own you before the night was over, and you couldn’t fight even as your mind screamed.

“Makin’ me work for it? Not very nice, sugar,” he rumbled, strolling forward and gripping your arm. 

“Please…” you prayed. God wasn’t listening. Not today.

“Wasn’t gonna use the cuffs on you ‘til later,” he smirked, digging his finger in until you whimpered. “But I guess we’ll start tonight.”

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[sjsmith56]

Nothing More Real

Summary: AU story of an established actor, directing his first film, visiting a bookstore he wants to film in and falling for the owner. Told from her POV.

Length: 6.5 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, OFC (unnamed and mostly undescribed)

Warnings: some slight drama over filming romantic or sexy scenes but the rest is fluff

Author notes: That recent selfie of Sebastian Stan was the inspiration except I interpreted it as him taking a picture of someone he loved. There are elements of Sebastian in this (his love of books, reference to acting in nude scenes, his open support for women) but I made him an AU version of Bucky Barnes who is successful but wanting more out of his career and his personal life. With this being Valentine’s Day I thought it was a good day to post it.

I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, then was slightly startled by the gentle knock on the door. A polite voice on the other side asked if I was ready for my makeup. She didn’t say anything about me holding anyone up, or that she had other clients waiting on her, even though I knew I was doing exactly that. Tightening the belt of the hotel robe that I wore over the large towel wrap, I opened the door and came out to the makeup specialist, Mandy. The hair stylist, Georg, was in the adjoining room, preparing Bucky.

“Sorry, nerves,” I explained. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“It’s alright,” said Mandy, putting her hand on mine and squeezing it. “Bucky explained everything. All the spouses and girlfriends go through this at one time or another. You’ll be fine. If you would remove the robe to expose your shoulders and come sit in the chair we’ll get started.”

I did as she said, then sat on the tall stool, as she placed a soft hair band on my head, to keep the hair off my face while she cleansed it. She complimented my skin, raving over the skin care regimen I must follow and the beautiful colouring I had. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I still used plain old over-the-counter products that I bought at the drug store, and rarely wore makeup at all. As she worked I kind of tuned out thinking over what had led me to this very moment.

Two years ago, I was in my hometown, an adjoining suburb of a bustling city. I owned a bookstore, started up with my late husband’s life insurance payout, specializing in hard to find books, mostly those that were out of print. We had a loyal clientele that would make the short journey from the city and the surrounding areas on a regular basis to see what new offerings I had. I visited estate sales and yard sales often, looking for those treasures that some people didn’t realize they had. It helped that I had a retired bookbinder and repair specialist, my dad, at my disposal. He would lovingly restore some of the more worn first editions I found, using techniques gleaned from years of experience, teaching them to me so that I could turn the bookstore into more than just a place to buy books.

One day, a woman came in, browsing through the bookstore, looking at not just the books, but the entire space itself. When I asked if she needed help, she just smiled and gracefully declined. She did buy a book, casually asking who the owner of the shop was. Then she gave me a card that said Maria Hill, Location Scout.

“I work with a production company that is going to be filming in the area in a few months. We had a bookstore lined up for filming but they had a fire and now we need a new location. Your shop was recommended by a friend of a friend of a friend. Would you be interested?”

I didn’t know what to say. This shop was my living and from what I knew about filming on location, the production company could take weeks or even months to film scenes. That kind of interruption could be fatal to my business. She sensed my hesitation and smiled.

“We would pay you to use your place and could even use you as an extra if you want to pick up some money.”

“I don’t know.” I looked at my store. “I’m quite protective of my store and my stock. Giving up control to a film production would be difficult for me.”

She looked back at how I had things set up. “What if we replaced the books with remaindered ones for the filming, and put yours into storage?” I shook my head, still not convinced. “Why don’t I get the director to come and see you? He’s in the city with the casting director looking for local actors to fill some of the supporting roles.”

I wasn’t sure if that would alleviate my concerns but I was willing to listen to his pitch. Giving her one of my cards, I put my cell phone number on the back, then rang through her purchase, wondering if she bought it to grease the wheels. When I got home I called my dad and told him about the encounter. We talked for some time about the pros and cons of agreeing to it but I was still leaning to not doing it.

The following morning I opened up and spent a couple of hours unpacking and inspecting some boxes of books I picked up at an estate sale. Just as I finished one of them, the door opened, ringing the little bell I had on it so I would hear it if I was in back. I glanced up to say good morning to the customer, and my mouth went completely dry. The man who entered was dressed casually, and wore a ball cap to hide his hair but I recognized him right away as Bucky Barnes, an actor who had become famous working in several well received independent films. Why was he in my store? Croaking out my welcome, he smiled back at me, and stepped further inside, stopping at several shelves to look at the books, even holding on to one, then another.

Trying not to stare at him, I decided to do some dusting, bringing out the duster, dust cloth, and the tall step stool. I pulled out the top shelf of books on the one display running the duster over the shelf, then wiped the books with the dust cloth. As I got into it, finishing that column of books and starting on the next one, I totally forgot about Bucky Barnes, the customer. It wasn’t until I heard a polite cough behind me that I remembered he was there and turned. My foot slipped off the top of the stool and I fell towards him. Almost instantly, he stepped forward and expertly caught me, just like in the movies.

The first thing I noticed was that he smelled incredible. I don’t even know what the scents were as my dad wore Old Spice and my deceased husband never wore anything scented. He was also strong, much stronger than I was expecting. I’m not a waif and with the momentum I had as I fell I was sure we would both end up on the floor but he was solid and caught me easily. His beautiful blue eyes were now looking at me with concern.

“Are you alright?” The way his voice rumbled was somewhere between intoxicatingly masculine and “get in my bed” sinful. I gulped while he looked over at the stool. “You took quite a tumble there.”

“Fine,” I rasped, then cleared my throat. “I’m fine. Thank you. You can let me down now.”

Then he smiled and seeing those perfect white teeth finished me. I got all hot and flustered, totally aware that my cheeks must be flaming red as they were burning right at that moment. He lowered me so gently that I didn’t realize my feet were now on the floor.

“I’m Bucky Barnes,” he said, then gestured towards the fixtures. “My associate Maria Hill was here yesterday and thought it could work for my film and I have to agree. It’s a much nicer store than the one we were going to use. What do you say about letting me film here?”

“You’re the director that the location scout said would contact me?”

He nodded his head as I asked, then smiled again, holding up the four books he picked.

“I’d like to buy these. They’ve been on my “to read” list for a while but my book store contact could never find them.”

Now I was really hooked. Bucky Barnes, the actor, who was in the area, for pre-production on a movie he was directing, was in my store, buying books. Not only that, he had just caught me as I literally fell onto him. It must have been too much because the next thing I knew I was looking up at his worried face, while I was on the floor. My first instinct was to get up but he put a gentle hand on my shoulder, keeping me down.

“Stay there,” he commanded. “You must have had some vertigo or a low blood sugar moment. I caught you before you dropped.” That damn smile came out again. “Maybe you’re falling for me.”

I groaned at his awful joke but he didn’t take it personally. Eventually, he did let me stand, and allowed me to ring his purchase up, then he stood there, all 6 foot 2 inches and 185 pounds of movie heartthrob (I looked it up later), and asked me out to dinner the next night, to discuss using the bookstore for his movie.

“Oh, I can’t,” I said. “Thursday nights I’m open late.”

“Well, surely, one of your employees can take over,” he suggested.

I shook my head. “I’m it. This is a one person business and I do good business on Thursday nights. Tonight would be better or Friday.”

He glanced at my left hand, seeing my ring. “Won’t your husband object?”

“I’m a widow.” There was a flicker of emotion on his face but he quickly masked it.

“My condolences. Unfortunately, I have a pre-production meeting today that will last well into the late evening. I’m leaving for LA on Friday as I have filming on another movie to do so it will have to be tomorrow.”

“Busy man.”

“It’s how I make my living.” He leaned across the counter, fixing those blue eyes on me. “How do you eat meals or take a break when you’re here on your own?”

At first I was hesitant to answer. I mean, I’m a single woman talking to a strange (albeit famous) man about being here on my own. But those damn eyes were definitely a window into his soul because I saw genuine curiosity and concern in them.

“I sit in the back room with the door open so I can see the front door. It has a bell on it, to alert me to a new customer, and I put my sandwich down to come out and help them. When I have to use the facilities, I lock the door and put up a sign saying I’ll be back in 5 minutes. My customers understand and wait for me.”

“Huh, makes sense.” He frowned a little then seemed to come to a decision. “How about I bring you something to eat and hang out with you in the store? The movie is going to be set primarily in a book store and although the script has been written and I’ve had some preliminary rehearsals with the leading lady and several others, I think I could benefit from your expertise in running an independent small business on your own. I’ll pay you for your time ….” He stopped as if realizing that how he worded it could be misinterpreted and blushed. It was refreshing to see him being flustered. “I should say I will pay you for sharing your knowledge and experience as a bookseller, and give you a movie credit as a technical consultant.”

“I haven’t agreed to you using the book store, yet,” I answered, wondering if my loudly beating heart was audible to him as it was pounding in my ears.

“That’s true, but I’ll give you the credit no matter what. Please say yes.”

I remember how that word please did something to me, something I hadn’t felt for several years.

“Alright, bring sandwiches as they don’t get cold when I get busy. I’m open to just about anything but there’s a sandwich place a couple of blocks away that I always buy from, since I support local businesses. I have tea here so if you drink coffee you’ll have to bring your own. When you get here, the food stays in back.”

“6 o’clock is okay?” I nodded and he picked up his bag with the four books he bought. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He opened the door, looked up and grinned at the ringing bell, then tipped the brim of his ball cap and left. I remember thinking what an old fashioned thing that was. Men didn’t tip their hats to women anymore. It was a sign of respect, maybe even admiration. What was so special about me that a man like him could admire? It bothered me for the rest of the day until I got home and called my dad to let him know of this latest wrinkle. I tried to downplay my reactions to Bucky Barnes but my dad was always a perceptive man, even when we spoke on the phone.

“He tipped his hat to you? You don’t get that every day, do you?”

“Does it mean anything?” I asked, then waited as he took his time answering.

“Do you want it to mean anything?” I thought about it, then Dad said something that resonated with me. “It’s been four years since Dan died. He was taken far too young for both of you. I know that you’ve dated but haven’t felt any connections past a second date.”

“This isn’t a date, Dad,” I interrupted.

“I know, it’s a business meeting where he’s bringing you sandwiches, and eating them in your back room, picking your brain, then watching how you run your business. He sounds interested and invested in making you comfortable with him taking over your livelihood for the duration of filming. If he does talk money, make sure he pays you what you would expect to make in sales, plus a gratuity for the upheaval to your business.”

“You think I should do it,” I declared.

“I think you should consider it and then decide yourself. At the least, you can always say you had dinner with Bucky Barnes.”

That was Dad, pragmatic to the core. When Bucky showed up early at 5:50 he brought sandwiches from the local shop, a large coffee for himself, and earned major bonus points for bringing a slice of cake each from the bakery around the corner. I had already cleared my desk and brought plates and cutlery. After all, I was civilized. He noticed, his eyes crinkling as he smiled, showing those perfect white teeth again. As we sat and took our first bites, finishing chewing so we weren’t talking with our mouths full (see previous reference to being civilized), he looked intently at me.

“What would you like to know?”

“What’s the movie about?”

“It’s kind of my take on Notting Hill but without the paparazzi, the cheating boyfriend and the irritating roommate,” he answered. “I play an actor, in town to film a movie, and I find this little bookstore with a charming manager who I develop a crush on. On days when I’m not filming I’m at the store, enjoying the atmosphere, finding that it gives me what the movie business doesn’t, a calm place where I’m accepted at face value. We have a love affair, then the filming ends.”

“That’s it?” I asked, after sipping some tea from my insulated cup. “No happy ending?”

“Oh, there’s an ending but not even the other actors know what it is yet as I have sworn the writers to secrecy.”

I was going to respond to that but the bell rung on the door and I stepped out to find a pair of regular customers entering. Bucky watched from the doorway as I pulled out three books that had been placed on hold. They visually inspected the books then asked what the damage was. I gave them a price, which they agreed to and I rang them up, chatting as they brought out their own cloth bag to put them into. Slipping in a few bookmarks which I picked up from book trade fairs I wished them a good evening and watched them leave. Just as I got back to the room, the bell rang again and I made an apologetic face at Bucky as I tended to the next customers, chatting with them as they were regulars. More came in and although I got quite busy I noticed he was browsing the shelves, pretending to be another customer. No one seemed to notice who he was so it was a convincing improvised performance. After a steady hour or so of customers it began to taper off and I was able to slip back to have a few more bites of my sandwich.

“You weren’t kidding,” he said. “You get a lot of repeat business?”

“Yeah,” I shrugged. “That’s why I’m reluctant to close down. Many of them make the trip from the city or nearby towns. If I’m not open, I’m not sure they’ll come back.” I sipped my tea. “You could pay me well for the time I shut my store down but if I lose my base of regular customers I might not have enough business to keep it open afterwards. This is my living and I’m invested in keeping it.”

He listened carefully, then was quiet for some time while he thought before seeming to come to a decision.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize the hit you could take if you turned the store over to us. This fire that hit the other bookstore has really forced my hand.” He rested his chin on his clenched fist. “I would build a new set but it would increase my budget. I wanted a place that looked authentic and used, you know what I mean?”

I nodded, understanding completely.

“You could always duplicate my bookstore in an existing empty retail space,” I suggested. “There are a few places here or in the city that would probably jump at the chance to have you there even on a temporary basis. You would need shelving, counters, and stock. If you built from scratch using used fixtures and buying remaindered books then it would have that funky independent bookstore look. You would also control the space, using it whenever you wanted and setting up your equipment without having to worry about upsetting the owner. At the end of filming you could sell off the inventory as official souvenirs of the movie. You know, buy a piece of cinematic history.”

I smiled hopefully at him with that rather unlikely last suggestion and he reacted with definite amusement but also with respect. Another customer came in and I left him to his thoughts and the rest of his sandwich. When I returned he had our cake slices ready to eat. He stood up, pulled my chair out for me, and waited for me to sit down until he did. Then he fixed his gaze on me.

“I think you’re right about building a purpose built set in an empty retail space. If there is any way you could work with our set designer to replicate what you have here before filming starts I would really appreciate it. She’s a local and you could arrange times that work for you. I don’t want to risk your business being permanently disturbed by our filming. The success of my little vanity project isn’t worth affecting your livelihood.”

It was a surprising admission from him, but it was made sincerely. He stayed until closing time and helped me shut the store down, waiting as I locked the doors. We lingered outside on the sidewalk, not saying much of anything but definitely feeling a pull towards each other.

“Thank you for letting me come over and observing you at work,” he said. “It was quite illuminating and I think I’ll work with the script writers to incorporate some new dialogue into the film based on what I witnessed.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied. “Thank you for dinner. The cake was a nice touch.”

That smile came out again, and I spontaneously kissed him on the cheek. We shook hands then we both kind of pulled the other in for an impulsive and more intense kiss, one that made me feel all sorts of things.

“You’re quite the woman,” he murmured, his arms feeling quite natural around me. “Can I call you sometime, just to talk?”

“Sure,” I stammered, then shrugged. “When you’re not busy with premieres and dating starlets and stuff.”

“Oh sweetheart, that’s all posing for the cameras, just part of the job. I’m much happier curled up in my favourite chair, a book in my hand, my dog asleep near me, and some nice music playing in the background. I go to the premieres and parties because I have to maintain a presence but I would much rather spend hours talking to you than being there. You’re real and I’ve had a better time with you in the last few hours than I’ve had in a long while.”

“I bet you say that to all the bookstore owners.”

With a soft smile, he shook his head, then kissed me again, leaving no doubt in my mind that there was definitely something worth exploring. After getting me safely in my car, and double checking my cell phone number he let me go and despite his words I didn’t expect to hear from him until he returned for filming. The next day a large bouquet of flowers was delivered to the store, along with the contact information for his set designer, and a cheque for my input that was more than generous. Bucky phoned that night and we talked for three hours. He phoned every night except Thursday as I was working, then he began video calling, introducing me to his dog, Tilly, a mutt who obviously adored him.

I did meet with the set designer and together we found a large empty retail space in the city, in a small strip mall that was struggling to stay afloat. Bucky gave her the okay to rent more space there to use as their production offices. Two weeks before filming started he showed up at my bookstore on a Thursday night with sandwiches, and dessert. It felt like he had always been doing it and we picked up our relationship where we left it, except this time, he followed me home in his car and stayed the night.

When filming started I saw less of him but we still talked and he made the effort to see me at least once a week. He met my father, finding common ground with him in their shared love of books. We did have a little bump in the road when I visited the set on a Sunday they were filming. It was the first time I was there and they were preparing a romantic scene between Bucky and his leading lady, Natasha Romanov, a very attractive actress. Wanda, a production assistant was waiting for me just outside the house they were using as Natasha’s place, leading me inside. The living room was set up with soft lights, candles and partially full wine glasses. Bucky and Natasha were talking with a third person, the intimacy coordinator, according to Wanda, going over the ground rules for their romantic scene. There was some joking between Bucky and Natasha then she got in position while a stand-in stood with her while the positioning was checked on a monitor by Bucky and his assistant director, Sam Wilson. Then he nodded at Sam and took his place where the stand-in had been. The clapper board, or slate, as they call it on set was brought in front of the camera to mark the beginning of the scene, then Bucky said “roll camera,” the camera operator started it, said “rolling” and Sam took a few seconds to call out “action.”

I felt weird watching my boyfriend kissing another woman in a way that was disturbingly familiar. Then the camera moved back as they moved to the couch and he laid on top of her, kissing and touching her with what seemed to be intent. When Sam called “cut,” Bucky got off of her like it was no big deal and came over to the video monitor, watching it intently, then pointing out issues in lighting or positioning. As a makeup artist touched up Natasha’s hair and makeup, they adjusted the camera angle and some lighting then they went through the scene again with the intimacy coordinator. I felt a touch on my arm and turned to see Wanda looking at me with concern.

“Do you want to wait in the other room?” she asked. “They’ll be calling lunch after they get the scene in the can.”

I nodded and she led me through an adjoining door to a den, bringing me a bottle of water, as I sat on a couch in there.

“They are just acting,” she said kindly. “It looks real but it isn’t.”

Even though she was trying to be supportive, I still felt odd about what I saw and just nodded. She left me there and I sipped the water, waiting. It was almost an hour before lunch was called, but all I could think about was that they must have gone through that scene several times. When Bucky came in, he kneeled down in front of me.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes searching my face. “Wanda said you seemed upset.”

“No … yes,” I answered, struggling to keep my face neutral. “Are love scenes always like that?”

He frowned slightly. “Realistic? Yes. But it doesn’t mean there is anything between us. We’re both professionals and we separate our personal emotions from what we’re doing so that it looks like we’re into each other but we’re not. It’s all technical.”

“It looked real.”

“Hey,” he said softly, cradling my face in his hands. “This is real.”

He kissed me then, languidly caressing my tongue with his, as he gently threaded one hand into my hair while the other pulled me closer to him. When he pulled his lips away he continued holding me, rubbing my back.

“Have you ever fallen in love with an actress after doing romantic scenes?” I asked, still feeling insecure.

“When I was 18 and still a virgin,” he answered. I looked at him in disbelief. “Really. I had no romantic experience and I fell in love with my leading lady in the high school play. After our first rehearsal kiss I was sure she was the one, then when rehearsal was over, she went out to her boyfriend and gave him a kiss that must have reached to the back of his throat. It was gross.” It made me giggle, which made him smile. “I do love scenes because I’m a formally trained professional actor and it’s expected when I’m the lead in a production. I’ve done nude scenes with a man and a woman, separately, but I don’t get aroused by it because it’s really quite uncomfortable to be in front of a film crew with another naked person, pretending to be in love or lust, and having the whole scene broken down into “put your leg here, and your arm there, don’t fart, don’t burp and for God’s sake if you get a leg cramp don’t scream.”

“Okay,” I said, a little grudgingly. “I guess it’s something I have to get used to but would it be okay with you if I didn’t watch those scenes until the movie comes out?”

“Sure.” He kissed me again. “You know I love you, right?”

“What?” I gasped.

“I love you. You’re it for me.”

Before I could respond then Sam interrupted us, saying a closer look at the last scene filmed showed a shadow from the sound boom. Smiling apologetically at me, Bucky got up, then pulled me up with him to give me a hug.

“Wait for me,” he said. “We’ll talk some more.”

I stayed, found a book and read it. When they wrapped for the day, the activity level got considerably louder as people prepared to leave. I looked out into the hallway, seeing people going back and forth as some equipment was too valuable to leave in the house, even though a security guard would be on duty. Stepping into the living room, I watched as Bucky talked to Natasha, telling her she did good work that day, then hugging her. He had a quick conversation with a couple of people then saw I was there and told them he had to go.

“Ready to leave?” he asked. “Come to the trailer with me while I change then we’ll go.”

He took my hand and led me to a large trailer, like the type used in a work camp. All the actors had their own rooms with their wardrobes in it for that set. When we got inside his room, he closed and locked the door then pressed me against it, kissing me enthusiastically. When he finally had enough and allowed me to catch a breath, I looked at him.

“What’s got into you?”

“You. You’re in my head, and in my heart. I’ve wanted to say it for a while.”

“What stopped you?”

He caged me in between his hands that were placed on either side of my shoulders.

“Trying to find the right romantic moment.” He scanned my face as if he was mapping it. “I know that scene was hard for you to see but you really don’t have to feel like you don’t matter. I liked you the moment you fell off that stool into my arms and then fainted. I was impressed watching you work, handling your customers with such patience and professionalism. As we talked on the phone, then by video call, I realized that those times were the best part of my day. The film industry is all about make believe but there’s nothing more real than how you make me feel.” I smirked at his rhyme and he chuckled with me. “I adore you, and want to be where you are as much as I can.”

“How will we make that work?”

“I can move here.”

That stunned me. He was willing to move here instead of staying in Los Angeles? I could only respond with one word.

“Why?”

“Because this is your home and it’s where your business is. It’s important to you. After all this I don’t want to take you away from it.”

“But that will make you less visible and ….”

He kissed me again, softly, almost reverently. “When a guy finds the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with, nothing is as important as her. This film, my first as a director, was important to me because I was ready for a new challenge, one that didn’t depend on me being that guy you see in the gossip rags or the entertainment programs. We can still keep a place in Los Angeles and New York for when I have to be there but I want to put down roots here, with you.”

“But would that mean you would marry me?”

“Not how I wanted to ask you but yeah. I want to marry you, have a family, bring Tilly up so she can get to know your dad, and you keep your business because it’s part of you, a part I love.” He looked hopefully at me. “Of course, it only works if you love me, too, and say yes to marrying me.”

“Yeah, I love you.” I started to cry, as he looked at me like I was something precious. “I want to marry you.”

“Guess what?” he asked, after he kissed me again, even though I was blubbering. “I just figured out the end of my movie.”

“I thought you already had an ending.” I wiped my cheeks with my hands.

“I did but after I met you I didn’t think any guy worth anything would leave someone like you behind. So, I asked the writers to come up with a happy ending and now I’ll get them to tweak it, just a little. It might be based on us, a bit. Are you okay with that?”

I nodded, as I knew that if I spoke I would start to cry again. While I sat on the couch, he wiped off his makeup with facial wipes, as he usually showered at the hotel or at my place, then changed into his regular clothes. Then he drove us in his rental car to my dad’s house, and told him I said yes, because of course he spoke to my dad first. We celebrated with steaks and beer. Six months ago, we got married in a private ceremony with his family and mine at a mountain resort. Tilly brought the rings down the aisle on a ribbon tied around her neck. Bucky had another film lined up a month later and worked on getting a distribution deal for the movie which brings us to why I was sitting on a tall stool in a hotel room getting my hair and makeup done.

It was the world premiere of Bucky’s film, Nothing More Real. Yeah, he used part of a line that he said to me for the title but I didn’t mind. As he explained to an interviewer the movie became more personal to him once he met me.

After my makeup was completed and hair styled into something other than my usual comb it out and fasten it with a barrette, a stylist brought out the three choices of evening gowns we made earlier in the day. Bucky’s stylist, Michael, had recommended her, knowing I was still dealing with the glitz and glamour of being in Los Angeles. All three dresses were casually elegant, nothing too extravagant or risqué. I chose a black off the shoulder style that I felt beautiful in. After making sure that all the seams were straight and my smoothing undergarment wasn’t bunching up anywhere, Lesley nodded her approval and helped me slip on the heels, low ones as I absolutely refused to wear the five inch ones that seemed to be the norm. She handed me my clutch then gestured to the adjoining door.

“I brought jewelry,” I said, reaching for my little case with some necklaces and earrings.

“Nope, Bucky got you something,” she answered. “Let’s go show off for him.”

I came through the adjoining door and he turned around, his face alight at the sight of me. He shook his head but it was because he couldn’t get over how I looked.

“Stay right there,” he said, reaching into his pants pocket for his cell phone. “I want a picture of how you look at this moment to send to your dad.”

Leaning against the closet door he aimed the camera at me, staring at the image for some time until he pressed the shutter button. I’ll always remember how he looked in his navy slacks and a white shirt while staring at his camera then at me. Looking beyond at Lesley he smiled and thanked her for finding the perfect dress. She just smiled and closed the door.

“Where’s your tie?” I asked, stepping closer.

“Not wearing one. Going for that casual elegant look.” Sliding his phone into his front pocket he placed his hands on my waist, gazing at me. “You look stunning and will make me look good just being beside you.”

“I bet you say that to all the bookstore owners.”

He laughed then hugged me, his mouth close enough to my ear that I could feel his breath on it.

“No, just the one I love. Now, I have something for you. Kind of a six month anniversary, world premiere gift.”

“Aw gee, and I didn’t get you anything.”

He went to the night stand beside the bed and pulled out two cases, one small square one and a longer slim one.

“Normally, the big jewellers provide pieces for the red carpet but I want the world to see that I appreciate my wife so much that I want her to have something unique with meaning to her.”

He opened the long case to show a white gold and diamond pendant shaped like a book. Explaining that it was custom made he fastened it around my neck. Then he opened the small case showcasing a pair of white gold diamond drop earrings. After I fastened them, he took another picture then received a text that our ride was waiting. Putting his jacket on he took my hand in his.

It wasn’t a long drive, but I could tell he was nervous. Although he had investors for the movie, he had put his own money into it and his reputation. For someone who wanted to transition into being a director it was a gamble. The red carpet was intimidating for me, but Bucky held my hand, and made sure that no one treated me with anything less than respect. There was one instance where I waited at the side while he was on camera with one of the entertainment programs, and was asked who inspired him. He smiled and said the usual, then he stepped away from the reporter, looking for me. When he saw me, his face broke into a soft and knowing smile.

“There, right there, is the person who inspires me the most,” he said, gesturing for me to come forward. His publicist frowned as she wanted the focus to be on him but she stepped back and let me go to him. Putting his arm around me and giving me a side hug he faced the reporter again. “This is my wife and she is the happy ending I always wanted. I cherish the day that the location scout walked into her bookstore and asked if we could film there. She said no, but I kept going back because there was something special about her, something real that I had been needing.”

It was an “aww” moment that was replayed for days. The reviews were great, calling Nothing More Real a gem of a movie, that realistically portrayed a romance between two people who needed something more in their lives. It didn’t get nominated for any major awards but it was always on a “best of” list of romance movies and gave Bucky a strong push into becoming sought as a director. It also increased my business as people came to find the bookstore behind the movie. Even though the movie was filmed in a set, built in an empty retail store in a strip mall they knew the real thing was even better. So was life and love with my movie star husband, who loved me as I was, because I was real.

One Shots Masterlist

[resurrectionist3]

Praying for Love, Paying in Naivety

The Worst People Trilogy - Part I

Daniel Cleaver x fem!Reader (18+) 🖋️- 02/14/2025 🔏 - 02/15/2025 ⏳ - 3038 words

⚠️CW - 18+ NSFW, brief p in v, general smut, cheating (dont do it), debauchery and devious acts, mentions of drug and alcohol use, cigarette smoking, Daniel Cleaver again (im sorry), small Mark Darcy appearance at the end (sorry again)

✧─── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ───✧

Author’s Note - been planning this little stunt for a while (but of course I wait until the last minute to write it). I was going to say that this isn’t good but now that it’s done, I definitely believe it’s good and I hope you like it. If you cant tell by the song, it’s inspired by “But It’s Better If You Do” by Panic! At the Disco. Stay tuned for the next two parts coming this weekend, this trilogy will be wild. And no, I don’t want to hear about the logistics of them not recognising each other with just face masks on. I didn’t come up with the entire concept, I’m just filling in the fun details. This is also only partially edited. So if there are any egregious errors, return in about a day or two and they might be fixed. Timex Part ii WILL exist, I promise! But Valentine’s Day arrived so quickly and I told myself I’d do this idea for the holiday!!

✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧

I looked over the ornate invitation a couple more times before exiting my car.

Rarely would I ever attend such an event but I had been in need of some excitement.

A certain line on the invite stuck in my mind as i secured bronze eye mask to my face:

‘Consider bringing a spouse or partner along. Or don’t.. if you would be so bold.’

“Are you busy on the 14th of February, dear?” I had asked my fiancé.

He paused and thought in silence, as he always did. “Busy with work that day, love. So sorry.” he said finally.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. What was new? All he ever did was work.

“That’s alright,” I had responded. I repeated it again to myself there in the car as I pulled the diamond engagement ring from my finger and placed it in the locked glove compartment.

I checked the invite once more for the address; this place looked .. abandoned. Certainly no place for a party. It was located in an older part of London, tucked into an alleyway. A proper secret hideaway, one that I wouldn’t have noticed if I weren’t looking for it.

I knocked on the heavy metal door, not sure what to expect. A moment later, footsteps sounded and a small opening in the door slid to the side.

“Password…?” Came a soft voice from within. I furrowed my brows at the invite and spoke loud and clear to the person on beyond the door.

“Vices and virtues.”

The opening shut and a lock clicked open. The heavy door opened slowly with a loud, ominous creak. I swallowed hard, wondering if this was honestly a good idea. But I was nothing if not a curious bitch with a desperate need for more excitement.

I turned around the door to thank whoever let me in and found myself shocked when there was no one there. A chill ran down my spine as I searched the dark corner with my eyes before continuing on.

Dance music played in the distance growing louder as i approached the main room. The smell of cigarettes and something illicit hit me before I entered. The room was full of different people, all hiding their identities with some form of mask on their faces. Various attendees crossed the room in all directions around of me, each of them lost in their own conversations.

I grew disoriented as I navigated the crowd, nearly bumping into a group doing lines of coke off of a glass top table. My chest tightened as I excused myself from them and I sighed in relief when I finally stumbled to a bar.

‘My god, I’m truly past my days of partying, aren’t I?’ I thought to myself.

“This crowd too much for you?” A voice said behind me, making me jump. The bartender stood there, a young man with slicked back dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He even wore a mask of his own, a white one adorned with gold filigree on the edges and decorated with black music notes.

He chuckled lowly at my jumpy reaction and sipped his own drink, a peach and lime daiquiri. “Didn’t mean to startle you, miss. Is this your first time here?”

I nodded slowly and settled myself onto the barstool. “It is. I haven’t been to a party like this in ages.”

He began to mix up a drink, something that looked light and refreshing. “Well, try not to overthink anything. Or overdo it. Most people are just here to have a good time. In more ways than one.”

He glanced to a couple further down the bar who were … very interested in each other. I looked for a moment and widened my eyes at the sight.

“Well.. I’d be lying if I said I had come here for anything different.” I admitted to the bartender.

“I can guarantee, miss, there’s plenty of people here who would be more than willing to get lost in you.” He responded.

“Do you know anything about who’s throwing this party? And who invited all these people?” I asked him, taking out my invitation.

The bartender sucked air through his teeth and shook his head apologetically while he continued the drink in a silver shaker. “No, miss. Afraid I don’t. I get an invitation, same as you lot. I come in, make the drinks, I’m paid on the way out, and that’s that. And I get paid enough to not ask questions.”

I sighed and nodded in understanding while i watched him strain the drink into a glass and begin on an orange garnish. “But I’ve worked these parties enough times to know how they go,” He slid me the drink as he finished and I took a sip, feeling myself physically relax.

He paused for a moment and took a hard look at me. His brow furrowed momentarily as he looked from me to the crowded room.

“You know, I saw a gentleman earlier with a mask quite similar to yours,” He said gingerly as he scanned the people around the room. I turned in my seat to look as well, surprised.

“You did..? That’s… is that common at these types of parties?” I ask, turning back to the bartender who was wearing a satisfied smile.

“I wouldn’t say common but, it happens,” He nodded behind me and I looked again, this time catching him. A tall gentleman in a black suit, wearing a bronze mask that indeed looked oddly similar to my own.

“When it does happen,” the bartender said, having leaned closer to me. “I like to think of it as a sign.”

My brows raised at him and he shrugged wordlessly, returning to his own dignified beverage. He said nothing else to me as I finished my drink and pondered my decision.

‘What the hell…’ I thought. ‘That’s what you’re here for.’

I left the glass on the bar and slid from the stool to walk to the man. He seemed to notice me right away, a subtle smile forming on his lips. I returned the look and stopped a bit further from him as some party goers walked in front of me. From what I could tell, he was surely handsome. And a breath of fresh air compared to what waited for me at home.

Whatever that bartender had put in my drink seemed to have an effect on me, or maybe it was the atmosphere of the party finally pulling me in. Whichever it was, it had made me far more confident. Or at least extremely bold.

I strode across the room to the man, feeling my heels click on the concrete floor below.

When i reached him, he smirked wordlessly at me and only paused a moment before leaning down to press his lips to mine. I didn’t object, instead sliding my hands up to his broad shoulders and sighing. The man held me to him and for a moment, everything around us faded away. The music became muffled along with the voices of the crowd around us and nothing else seemed to matter.

Not the party. Not the people. Not the drugs. And certainly not my fiancé back in his office at work, no doubt. Just me and this illustrious stranger.

Before I knew it, we were moving from the main room down a hallway off to the side. Several doors were at varying degrees of openness, revealing the rather unholy acts being committed in the rooms around us. When we reached an empty one, I wasted no time at pulling my new lover back to me. My tongue slid across his lip and made its way into his mouth as his hands caressed along my back gently. I felt the zipper of my dress slowly falling and my dress gradually slipping from my body, eventually ending up a pool of black velvet on the floor.

The man’s suit jacket and shirt went as well, tossed carelessly to a corner as I pushed him to the red velvet bed adorned with various pillows and blankets. I kneeled down by the edge of the bed to pull down his trousers and pants beneath them, revealing a large and erect cock. The man let out a groan and let his head fall back as i stood and straddled his waist over the bed.

‘His .. voice, it’s.. no, it’s nothing.’

I smiled as I leaned over him and kissed him once more, our masks gently tapping against each other.

I gasped and released a long moan as i sank down on his length, pausing immediately to adjust to his size. My breathing was heavy as i planted my hands on his chest to keep myself up. Soft, slight moans slipped from my lips as I lowered myself onto him, finally settled when he was fully inside.

I slowly shifted my hips, unable to shake the feeling that this was all … familiar. His voice, his groaning and moaning. His hair, his eyes. His cock…

It was all faintly familiar somehow. I opened my eyes to look at him once again and noticed his mask.. slipping.

I did what i knew I shouldn’t have done. But curiosity got the better of me in the moment. My hand trailed up from his chest, to his neck, and eventually to his face where I lifted his bronze mask…

“DANIEL??” I shrieked, entirely too loud. He jumped, suddenly startled, and so did I - directly off his cock.

I stared in horror at him, finally taking it all in. It was HIM. My ex boyfriend. That I hadn’t seen in TWO YEARS. I tore my own mask from my face and let it fall on top of my discarded dress.

“(Y/N)??” He responded, suddenly also aware of the situation.

We both stuttered and stammered at one another, each trying to simultaneously explain ourselves and scold the other person.

“What on EARTH are you doing here??”

“What am I doing? What are YOU doing?? I thought you despised parties!?”

“I swear to god, Cleaver, you orchestrated this whole thing, didn’t you? Like a pathetic Jay Gatsby??”

“Me?? Oh please, (Y/N), like I’d invite you and that fiancé of yours if I did!”

My hands shook with frustration as I began to gather my dress. ��I will NOT do this Daniel, not again! I left you for a reason-“

I turned from him, tired of his voice, and began to dress myself. Daniel then paused and scoffed at me. “Oh, well… that’s too bad, (Y/N)! I could honestly tell you were enjoying it. Seems like you needed a good fuc-“

I sighed hard and turned around to kiss him again, furiously this time. Unfortunately, he was right. I *did* need a good fuck.

When the deed was done, the room was eerily silent compared to how it had been a few moments ago. Daniel and I sat quietly and civilly beside each other on the bed, each smoking a cigarette. The room was beginning to become foggy, the ceiling clouded with the noxious blue smoke from the nicotine sticks. I felt more relaxed than I had in a year. Unfortunate to say, I really needed that. Needed this. Needed him.

“So, how’s life treating you..?” Daniel asked nonchalantly. I immediately scoffed at him and rolled my eyes, taking a drag on my cigarette.

“Oh please.. spare me. If I wanted small talk, i would’ve stayed home.”

“Oh?” Daniel mused. “Trouble in paradise..?” I glared at him and his shit-eating grin. “Is Arsey Darcy not all you thought he’d be….?”

I rolled over and stared at the other wall ignoring him, as Daniel chuckled behind me.

“Ah, no more engagement ring? Call off the wedding did you? A shame, really.”

I furrowed my brows and panicked for a moment at the feeling of my ring being missing before I remembered I had left it in the car. I sighed and sat up, taking a long inhale of my cigarette. “Nope… No, still very engaged. And so ready to be married.” My sarcastic tone was so obvious, it almost sounded scripted. “The wedding is in a week.”

Daniel reacted, recoiling. “Oh dear, a week? And you’re here?? Alone, and with no engagement ring on?? My god, he must’ve really screwed it up… Not that I’m shocked by that, though.”

Daniel’s surprise changed to satisfaction as he leaned back casually and breathed in his cigarette. “I supposed he wasn’t actually worth it after all.”

The venom in his tone was undeniable and it stoked the flames of anger that had already grown inside me. I huffed and tossed a velvet pillow at his head, groaning as he laughed. “Oh, it’s so funny, isn’t it? What about that woman you slept with behind my back, then? Brenda, or Brandy, or whatever her name was?”

Daniel’s expression changed and he looked away from me. I nodded and it was my turn to laugh. “Oh, I see. Divorcing her soon?”

Daniel put out his cigarette and took a moment. “No. We never married.”

He was uncharacteristically quiet when he said that. He seemed genuinely defeated, truly upset about the situation perhaps. It made me quiet in response, my grin fading. I flicked my cigarette ashes into the tray and took another deep drag.

“I uhh… I left here there. In the church,” Daniel admitted quietly. Something about his tone pulled at my heart in an annoying way.

Why did I feel bad for him?

“I just couldn’t bring myself to do it… with her,”Daniel looked to me then, his blue eyes meeting my (y/ec) ones, and for a moment … I remembered the time when I loved him.

I paused and thought of the night we ended things. The night we caught each other. The look on the girl’s face as she realised who I was. How Daniel looked when he saw me with his best friend. I remembered how it felt when Mark Darcy confessed his feelings for me, and told me that I deserved more than what Daniel was willing to give me. I thought of him at work, late at night so he could afford to buy me nice things and plan the wedding we were to have in a week.

All of it flooded back to me then as I sat nearly naked beside the man who had cheated on me, and whom I had cheated on. And it dawned on me.

“We’re… bad people, aren’t we?”

“The worst.”

We both sighed in unison, sitting with our silence for a few moments. My eyes drifted to Daniel, slowly meeting his again.

And we laughed.

I stood without another word and retrieved my dress, and Daniel did the same with his own clothes. I felt his warm hands on my skin as he helped me zip my dress in the back, careful and gentle like he used to be when we were together. Like when he would help me get dressed to attend his company parties.

A commotion beyond our room broke our quiet moment, startling us both. We took our masks and went to open the door, just as it opened on its own - revealing the bartender.

He grinned at us, a mischievous and entertained expression as he stuck his head into our room. “I do hate to intrude but, the police have arrived.”

Me and Daniel both reacted in unison, gasping. “Police?? What on Earth for?” Daniel asked in shock.

“Well, the drugs, of course. But follow me, I’ll get us out. I know a way.” The bartender responded effortlessly. He disappeared from the room and began to walk in the opposite direction of the main room which had fallen to chaos since we were last in there. Daniel and I rushed to keep up, following close behind as the odd bartender weaved in and out of dark unused hallways walled with bricks.

Eventually, we reached a set of metal doors which the bartender pushed open and walked us onto the street. The cold February winter hit me hard, sending a chill across my body. I couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, hearing the police sirens around the corner. Daniel laughed with me, the both of us doubling over in our amusement.

“Oh my god, of course this would happen,” I said when I recovered. I turned to thank the bartender who helped us, but found myself confused when he was nowhere in sight. Daniel was equally as confused, looking up and down the alleyway and street for him, to no avail.

“Strange chap, truly..” Daniel said finally. I nodded in agreement and looked at my mask in my hand. Daniel looked to his own and back to me with a grin.

“We mustn’t tell anyone about what happened here,” I said firmly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Daniel responded. We nodded to each other and tossed our masks against the brick wall behind a few discarded crates. They landed together with a subtle click, falling into the snow quietly. I waved as i walked in the direction of my car, while Daniel went the opposite way down the alley waving as well.

✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧

“Other news: police raided a secret party near Old London last night, making several arrests and collecting evidence of various different illicit substances,” The newscaster said sternly on the telly the next morning. I rubbed my eyes sleepily as i poured myself some tea and went to the table beside Mark Darcy who was reading the paper.

I eyed my magazine casually, flipping through the glossy pages as Mark glanced up at the screen for a moment. “My god, how ridiculous. Such frivolous nonsense lead to so many arrests. I would never engage in such debauchery in my life.”

I scoffed out a laugh and looked up to the screen myself. There showed a photo of two bronze masks lying in the snow outside of the building. They were set almost perfectly next to each other, making for a wonderful and ironically pleasing image as the newscaster droned on about the raid.

“Oh I agree completely, dear. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like that.”

✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧

Of course, let me know what you think! Sorry to edge you with a short smut scene but part iii will make up for it hopefully. Part ii will hopefully be out by tonight for everyone’s viewing pleasure! And if you’d like to be tagged in the next two parts, just let me know!🫀Happy Valentine’s Day!

✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧

Tag List:

@incorporealbombchelle (bc i know you’re gonna want this)

[s4svnn]

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

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

Chapter Forty Four

Aylah’s POV:

I sat on my bed, staring at the floor, my arms wrapped around my knees as if holding myself together would stop me from falling apart. The room was dimly lit, just the glow of my bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. I hadn't moved in what felt like hours. I didn't want to. I couldn't.

“AJ, talk to me.” Kayla’s voice was gentle, pleading.

I stayed quiet, my throat tight, my body frozen in place.

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

“I know the situation is horrible,” she said after a moment, her voice laced with that mix of pain and forced optimism. “But all we can do is sit here and hope for the best. Don’t do this to yourself.”

I buried my face in my hands, hot tears spilling onto my palms, but I made no sound. I couldn’t let see me like this. I didn’t want her to know just how broken I felt.

Kayla sighed softly on the other side of the door. “I’ll be in the living room if you want to talk.”

She paused for a moment and then spoke again.

“Just hang in there, babe,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’s going to be okay.”

I clenched my fists, pressing them against my forehead, trying to steady my breathing. The weight in my chest was unbearable, pressing down like a vice, making every breath feel forced. I lifted my head, blinking through the haze of my tears, staring at the closed door. The room felt colder, emptier now that Kayla had walked away. But I still couldn’t bring myself to open that door.

I pulled the blanket tighter around me, but it did nothing to stop the cold sinking into my bones. My mind wouldn’t shut off, no matter how much I wanted it to. No matter how much I tried to push the thoughts away, they came crashing back—louder, heavier.

Jade’s voice echoed in my head, sharp and unforgiving. I squeezed my eyes shut, my nails digging into my palms. The memory of her words sent a fresh wave of fear through me, making my stomach twist painfully. She wasn’t bluffing. I knew that.

Jade wasn’t the kind of person to make empty threats. She had looked me dead in the eye when she spoke, her expression unreadable, her voice eerily calm—like she was stating a fact rather than threatening my life.

And the worst part? I believed her. Every word.

I should’ve listened. I should’ve walked away, done what she wanted the first time, and put as much distance between myself and Jungkook as possible.

But I hadn’t. I couldn’t.

And now, he was paying the price.

I was deep in thought when a loud noise from outside echoed in my room causing me to flinch at the suddeness. It was the sound of a car engine. My body tensed, as it grew louder and louder. Slowly, I lifted my head, my ears straining for any sign of what—who—it could be. My heartbeat thudded against my ribs, but I forced myself to move. Slipping off the bed, I crept toward my window, pushing the curtain aside just enough to peek through.

A black car idled across the street, its headlights cutting through the darkness. I swallowed hard. It wasn’t familiar. The engine hummed for a moment longer before, finally, the car pulled away, disappearing down the road.

I let out a shaky breath, but the unease didn’t leave me. Was I being paranoid? Was it her? Or was it someone else?

I stepped back from the window, my arms wrapping around myself. The house felt too quiet now, the kind of quiet that made my skin crawl. Forcing myself to move, I opened my door just enough to hear Kayla’s soft movements in the living room—the faint rustle of a blanket, the occasional click of her phone. She was still here.

I wasn’t alone. But then why did I feel like I was being watched?

A sudden, piercing ring shattered the heavy silence of my room, making me gasp as my heart jolted violently against my ribs. The unexpected sound sent a ripple of unease through me, my body tensing instinctively. My eyes snapped toward the phone resting beside me, its screen glowing in the dim light. For a split second, I hesitated before glancing at the name displayed on the screen.

Adam.

I froze. It had been ages since we last spoke. Ages since everything between us shifted. The last conversation we had was anything but pleasant—his voice had been laced with anger, his words cutting and filled with disappointment when he found out about me and Jungkook. I still remembered the bitterness in his tone, the frustration that practically radiated from him.

So why was he calling me now? And more importantly, why at this hour?

My thumb hovered uncertainly over the answer button, hesitation tightening my chest. A part of me wanted to ignore it, let the call ring out until it eventually stopped. Avoiding this conversation seemed like the easier choice. But at the same time, curiosity gnawed at me, a restless pull in my gut that wouldn’t let me ignore the strange timing of it all.

After a brief internal battle, I inhaled deeply, steadying myself before finally pressing the button.

Bringing the phone to my ear, I forced my voice to stay neutral. “Hello?”

“Hey, AJ.” His voice came through smooth, casual—too casual. “You home?”

I frowned, confusion settling into my expression. That wasn’t the question I expected. My grip on the phone tightened slightly as I hesitated before answering.

“Yeah…” I trailed off, my tone cautious. “Why?”

Adam didn’t answer right away. When he finally did, his voice was light, almost too nonchalant. “Just wanted to know how you were doing. I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

I swallowed, my fingers gripping the edge of my blanket as I shifted uncomfortably.

“Yeah… sorry about that,” I muttered, my voice quieter now. “I haven’t been feeling my best lately.”

“What’s wrong?” His tone changed slightly, the curiosity giving way to what sounded like genuine concern.

I parted my lips, ready to say it—to tell him the truth. That Jungkook had been in an accident. That I had barely been able to function, weighed down by the fear and guilt pressing heavily on my chest. That I felt like my world was crumbling, and I didn’t know how to stop it.

But then, just as quickly as the words formed, I swallowed them back down. Something held me back. I didn’t know what it was—maybe instinct, maybe hesitation, or maybe just the simple fact that I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear Adam’s reaction if I did tell him.

So instead, I forced out a shallow exhale and settled for something vague. “You know… just life.”

Adam let out a small chuckle on the other end of the line. “Yeah, I get what you mean. The world’s a cruel place.”

I rubbed my temple, my voice quieter when I replied. “It really is.”

“I guess only the rich get to be happy,” he continued, his tone almost reflective. “Peasants like us have to deal with the harsh realities of the world.”

I let out a forced laugh, hoping to smooth over the awkwardness that had started to settle into the conversation. “Yeah…”

There was a brief pause before Adam spoke again, his voice almost thoughtful now. “If I was rich, I’d have no problems at all. After all, money is power.”

I stilled. Something about that phrase sent a sharp, unexpected wave of unease rolling through me. It wasn’t just the words themselves—it was the way they sounded, the way they rang in my ears as if I had heard them before, spoken in a different voice, in a different moment.

For a second, I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. The feeling of recognition was there, hovering just beneath the surface, but I couldn’t quite grasp where it was coming from.

“…What did you just say?” I asked, my voice quieter this time, cautious.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and when Adam finally responded, he sounded slightly confused, as if he wasn’t sure why I was reacting this way.

“Uh… money is power?” he repeated, his tone uncertain.

The moment he said it again, the uneasy feeling in my chest intensified. I knew I had heard that phrase before. Not just in passing, not in some generic conversation about wealth and status—but somewhere specific, somewhere important. My mind raced, sifting through my memories, trying to find the missing piece that would explain why those three words sent a chill down my spine.

I couldn’t let Adam pick up on the shift in my tone, though. If I kept dwelling on it, he’d notice something was off. So I forced a small laugh, trying to make my voice sound lighthearted, as if I hadn’t just been thrown into a spiral of deep thought.

“You’re right,” I said, gripping the phone a little tighter. “The rich can throw money at their problems to make them disappear, while the rest of us actually have to work through them to overcome anything.”

Adam let out a short laugh in response. “Exactly. Anyways, hang in there, AJ. I hope to see you on Monday.”

“Yeah…” I murmured, still distracted. “See you.”

The call ended, but the tension in my body remained. I sat there for a long moment, staring blankly at my phone screen, my thumb hovering over the home button. Money is power. Those words refused to leave my mind, circling like a vulture, picking apart every other thought I tried to focus on. Why did that phrase feel so significant? Why did it feel like a warning rather than just an observation?

Slowly, I pushed myself off my bed and began pacing the room, my bare feet moving in small, controlled circles against the hardwood floor. I ran my fingers through my hair, my brows furrowed as I dug deeper, searching for the connection my brain was trying to make.

And then it hit me.

Jade.

She had said that.

I stopped pacing, my breath catching in my throat as the realization crashed down on me.

The last time I had seen her, when she warned me to stay away from Jungkook—she had looked me dead in the eye, her voice smooth yet laced with something dark, and she had said it. Money is power.

I slowly sat back on my bed, my mind now spinning with an entirely different kind of confusion. Why would Adam say something like that out of nowhere? We had been talking about problems, about how unfair life was, and then suddenly, he brought up wealth and power as if it was the most natural transition in the world. But it wasn’t. It didn’t fit.

There was no reason for him to be talking about something like that. Unless it wasn’t just a passing thought, some random musing about wealth and privilege. Unless, somehow, Adam knew more than he was letting on. A lump formed in my throat as I swallowed hard, my grip tightening around my phone. A creeping sense of unease slithered through me, my thoughts racing in circles. I hadn’t told him about Jungkook’s accident. He had no way of knowing, no reason to bring up the idea that the rich could easily overcome their problems, and yet… it almost felt like he was referencing it directly.

As if, in his mind, Jungkook’s wealth meant his injuries didn’t matter. As if money would guarantee his survival, rendering the accident insignificant. As if the pain, the fear, the uncertainty I had been drowning in was nothing more than an inconvenience that could be bought away.

The realization sent a cold shiver down my spine. Adam had caused the accident.

My fingers trembled as I frantically scrolled through my phone contacts, my pulse pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. Damian, Damian, Damian—where the hell is Damian? My breath was uneven, coming in sharp, ragged gasps as my vision blurred with panic. My hands felt unsteady, almost disconnected from my body as I finally landed on his name and pressed Call, shoving the phone against my ear with so much force it nearly hurt.

The line rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

Come on. Pick up. Please, pick up.

The ringing continued, each second stretching longer than the last, my heart hammering so violently I thought it might burst out of my chest.

"Come on, come on," I muttered under my breath, my other hand curling into a fist at my side, nails digging into my palm.

The call went to voicemail.

"No, no, no," I whispered, barely able to process the rejection as I yanked the phone away from my ear and stared down at the screen in disbelief. My chest tightened, frustration and fear tangling together into a suffocating knot. I didn't have time for this. I couldn't afford to wait.

Without another second of hesitation, I bolted toward my bedroom door, yanking it open so violently that it slammed against the wall with a deafening bang. "Kayla, we need to go. Now!" I shouted, my voice sharp and urgent as I rushed into the living room, my heart threatening to beat out of my ribcage.

Kayla, who had been curled up on the couch, nearly jumped out of her skin. Her phone slipped from her hands onto the cushion beside her as she shot up, her wide, startled eyes locking onto mine. "W-What? Go where? What’s happening?" she stammered, her voice thick with confusion.

“The hospital! Quickly—grab your jacket!” The words flew out of my mouth so fast they barely sounded coherent, but I didn’t have time to explain. My hands were already fumbling with my sneakers, fingers shaking so badly I could barely shove my feet inside.

Kayla didn’t waste a second pressing for details. Something in my tone must have told her this was serious, because she immediately grabbed her jacket, threw it over her shoulders, and rushed after me as I flung the front door open. The cold night air hit my skin like a slap, but I barely registered it.

We practically threw ourselves into Kayla’s car, and as she jammed the key into the ignition with slightly unsteady hands, she turned to me, her brows furrowed with concern. “AJ, you still haven’t told me what’s going on. Did something happen to Jungkook?”

“There’s no time,” I said, my voice clipped, my stomach twisting into a mess of nerves. “Just drive. Get there as fast as you can.”

Kayla’s lips parted like she wanted to argue, but she must have sensed the sheer urgency rolling off of me because she didn't push it. Instead, she slammed her foot onto the gas pedal, and the tires screeched against the pavement as we lurched forward.

The city blurred past us in a chaotic mess of streetlights and neon signs, the roads almost empty at this hour. Kayla didn’t hold back. She weaved through the streets at a reckless speed, pushing past the limits, her hands gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. The highway stretched before us in a tunnel of glowing lights, the colors blending together as we shot past them.

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. My mind was racing too fast, tangled in a million possibilities, each one worse than the last. Twenty agonizing minutes later, Kayla swerved into the hospital parking lot, barely bothering to park properly before I was already throwing open the door and sprinting toward the entrance.

I shoved past the front desk without so much as a glance, my only focus on one thing—finding Damian. The waiting room was dimly lit, eerily quiet except for the occasional cough or the low murmur of voices. My frantic gaze darted across the chairs, scanning each figure until—

There. Damian was slumped over in the farthest corner, his arms crossed, head tilted back, fast asleep. I rushed toward him and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him so hard his head snapped forward. “Damian! Wake up!”

He jolted upright with a startled gasp, blinking rapidly as his unfocused eyes darted around. “W-What? What happened?” he mumbled, still groggy.

I barely gave him a second to reorient himself before leaning in, my breath still ragged. “Where’s Jungkook’s room?”

Damian rubbed his eyes, still half-asleep. “What? Why—”

“Just tell me where it is!” My voice cracked, raw with desperation.

His grogginess instantly vanished, replaced by concern. “I’ll take you—what’s going on? Is something wrong?”

“Yes! We need to go now!”

At the sheer panic in my voice, Damian didn’t hesitate. He shot up from his seat and bolted down the hallway, and I followed, my legs burning from the effort of keeping up.

When we reached Jungkook’s room, I nearly slammed into him as he stopped abruptly. I grabbed the door handle and twisted. Locked. My stomach dropped. I pressed my forehead against the door’s small window, trying to peer inside, but the dim lighting and drawn curtains made it impossible to see anything clearly.

“We need to get inside,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, my throat tightening with fear.

Damian hesitated. “AJ… we can’t. The doctors won’t let us in. His condition—”

I turned on him so fast he flinched. “Damian, if we don’t get this door open right now, Jungkook isn’t going to make it.”

His face paled. “What? What do you mean—”

I sucked in a shaky breath, my voice barely holding steady. “I think I know who caused the accident… and if I’m right, they’re going to make sure Jungkook never makes it out of this hospital alive.”

For a moment, Damian just stared at me, his face frozen in shock. Then, as if breaking out of a trance, he stammered, “O-Okay! I’ll go get a doctor—stay here!”

He turned and ran. But I wasn’t waiting. My eyes darted around the hall before landing on a heavy wooden chair against the wall. Without thinking, I grabbed it, lifted it, and swung it full force into the glass panel of the door.

A deafening CRASH echoed through the corridor as shards exploded onto the floor. Ignoring the sharp sting of glass cutting my hands, I reached through the jagged hole, twisted the handle from the inside, and pushed the door open.

I rushed inside—and froze. Jungkook lay motionless on the hospital bed. His body was wrapped in thick, bloodied bandages, deep gashes slashing across his face, his lips cracked and bruised beyond recognition. His arm was hooked up to an IV, his chest rising and falling so weakly it was almost imperceptible.

Then, out of nowhere, a cold breeze ghosted across my skin, sending an involuntary shudder through my body. My breath hitched as a deep, uneasy feeling settled in my chest.I turned sharply, my pulse spiking. The window was open. My stomach twisted. Slowly, I stepped toward it, each movement careful, my heartbeat hammering louder with every inch I closed between myself and the dark abyss beyond the glass. When I reached it, I hesitated, then leaned forward, peering outside.

Nothing. No figures lurking in the shadows. No signs of movement. Just the eerie silence of the night. And yet, the question clawed at the edges of my mind, relentless and suffocating.

Who opened it?

Damian’s panting breaths filled the tense silence as he finally reached the door. 

"I couldn’t find any doctors—oh, you opened the door," he said, his voice still uneven from running.

I didn’t waste a second. "Did the doctor open the window of this room?"

Damian’s brows knitted together in confusion. "No. As far as I’m concerned, all the windows were closed when I was last here."

A shaky exhale left my lips, my thoughts spiraling as dread settled deep in my chest.

Damian stepped closer, concern etching itself onto his face. "What’s wrong?"

I swallowed hard before answering. "The window was open… wide enough for someone to get in."

His expression shifted instantly, his body tensing. "What? But there’s no way the doctors would’ve done that. And even if they had they always make sure to shut them at night—just in case something happens to the patient." He paused, his mind catching up to what I was implying. His lips parted slightly before he hesitantly asked, "Do you think—"

"Yeah," I cut him off, my voice low but firm. "Someone was trying to get in."

Damian’s jaw clenched. "You said you knew who caused the accident, do you think it was them?"

I hesitated, the weight of my own suspicions pressing down on me. I had a name. But was I truly ready to say it?

"I'm not sure yet," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But… I think it was Adam."

Damian’s entire body stiffened. "Adam? As in your boss, Adam?"

I nodded. "Yeah. He said some weird things on the phone earlier. Things that didn’t sit right with me."

Damian’s frown deepened. "What did he say?"

I hesitated again, my thoughts flickering back to her—to Jade. To the threat she had made.

For a moment, I considered keeping quiet, shielding Damian from the truth like I had been trying to shield myself. But then I thought of Jungkook, battered and broken in that hospital bed, completely vulnerable. If I had to risk my own life to protect him, then so be it. I refused to cower any longer.

Taking a steadying breath, I finally spoke. "I saw Jade."

Damian’s entire demeanor shifted. His eyes darkened, his shoulders tensing.

"Wait, jade’s in London?"

"Yeah, I saw her in the car park of the hospital earlier rtoday and she admitted it. She said she orchestrated the crash. She wanted to bring him back to her, and this was her way of doing it." My fingers curled into fists at my sides. "But she also hinted at something—something I didn’t catch at first. It wasn’t her who was driving, it was someone else."

Damian inhaled sharply, realization beginning to dawn on him.

I pushed forward. "Then I got that call from Adam. And at first, it just seemed like a normal conversation. But then… he said something that stuck with me. Something Jade said to me just hours before."

Damian stared at me, waiting.

"Money is power," I whispered.

Damian’s eyes widened slightly.

"Adam’s always hated Jungkook," I said. "He never liked that I was around him, and when he found out I was giving him a chance, he was furious. But tonight, when he called me, he started talking about how the rich can overcome their problems easily—how money solidifies their power." I clenched my jaw. "It was the exact same thing Jade said to me. Almost word for word."

Damian let out a sharp exhale, rubbing a hand over his face. "So you think it’s them? That they worked together?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think so."

A tense silence filled the room before Damian muttered, "Fuck. This is worse than I thought."

I turned to look at him, my vision blurring with unshed tears. My voice wavered as I asked, "What do we do? We can’t just leave him here."

Damian placed a firm hand on my shoulder, grounding me. "We won’t. Don’t worry. I’ll hire a private doctor, get them to tend to him in his hotel room so we can stay with him."

I nodded, watching as Damian pulled out his phone and made the call. He spoke quickly, his tone sharp with urgency. When he finally ended the call, his expression hardened.

"We need to put an end to this," he said, his voice filled with a quiet rage. "Jade’s made us all suffer far too much. That bitch deserves to rot in hell for what she did to you, me and Jungkook."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked at him, my heart pounding. "You told me that Jungkook would tell me whatever it was that Jade did to him—that thing that tore you two apart. But now look at him." My voice broke. "I don’t even know if he’s going to make it out of this alive. So, Damian, I need you to tell me what happened. I need to know what that bitch did to him so we can put her down once and for all."

Damian’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hesitation palpable. He shifted on his feet, as if debating whether to say the words aloud.

"I—I…"

"Damian, please," I pleaded, my voice trembling. "I spent so long hating him. So long blaming him for everything that happened. And now I’m finally seeing the truth. But I can’t see all of it unless you tell me what happened. I need to know that he’s the person I think he is. That this time, I’m seeing the real him—not some version I convinced myself was real. So please, tell me."

Damian inhaled deeply, his hands running through his hair in frustration before he finally exhaled.

And then, in a hushed voice, he said, "The contract she put you into, she’s had him in the same one since he was fourteen."

The world around me tilted.

My lips parted, but no words came out. My throat was tight, my breathing shallow. The room around me blurred, my body swaying slightly as if the air had been knocked out of me.

No. No, that couldn’t be right.

I stumbled back, gripping the edge of the hospital bed to steady myself. Jungkook lay there, motionless, his face bruised and cut beyond recognition. He had been through hell, and now I was beginning to understand why.

How had I not known? How had I spent all this time thinking he was the villain—believing he was just another selfish, power-hungry bastard—when all this time, he had been just as trapped as I was?

"AJ." Damian’s voice was softer now, but it barely registered in my ears.

I forced myself to speak, but my voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Why… why didn’t he tell me?"

Damian sighed, his expression dark. "Because he couldn’t."

I shook my head. "No. He could’ve. He—" My voice broke, and I swallowed hard, trying to keep the storm raging inside me from completely unraveling. "He should’ve told me. He should’ve told me!"

Damian clenched his jaw. "And what would you have done, AJ? You think you could’ve saved him when you couldn’t even save yourself?"

His words stung, but he wasn’t wrong.

I had barely escaped Jade’s grasp myself. I had spent months completely unaware that I was under her control, manipulated and used, my life dictated by her twisted rules. And if Jungkook had been suffering too—if he had been living the same nightmare since he was fourteen—then how much had he endured?

How many times had he tried to fight back? How many times had he failed?

I looked back at Jungkook, at the blood seeping through his bandages, at the deep gash along his cheek, at his hands—hands that had once held me with warmth but were now limp and lifeless at his sides.

I had spent so long hating him. So long blaming him. And now I realized—I had been blind.

I clenched my fists. "What else do you know?"

Damian hesitated. "AJ, maybe we should—"

"No," I cut him off sharply, my voice steadier now. Stronger. "No more secrets. No more half-truths. Tell me everything."

Damian exhaled, running a hand through his hair before nodding. "Fine." His eyes locked onto mine, his expression unreadable.

Damian took a deep breath, his jaw tightening as he ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. His hesitation only made my stomach churn harder. Whatever he was about to tell me—I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear it. But I had to.

I needed to. I glanced back at Jungkook’s unconscious body, at the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the hospital sheets. I needed to know the truth, his truth—because for far too long, I had only seen him through the lies and manipulation that Jade had wrapped around us both.

Damian exhaled slowly. "She owned him, AJ." His voice was quiet but sharp, slicing through the thick tension in the room. 

I swallowed, my throat dry. "What do you mean?"

Damian looked away for a second, as if the memories alone were too much for him to handle. Then he met my gaze again, his expression unreadable. "You already know what she does to people like us—how she traps us, controls us. But with Jungkook… it wasn’t just a contract. It was his whole damn life."

A shiver ran through me.

"What?" I whispered.

"He didn’t have a choice, AJ. She made sure of that." Damian let out a humorless chuckle, but there was something dark in his eyes, something bitter. "You and I… we had lives before Jade. We had choices, even if they were limited. But Jungkook? He had nothing before her. No family. No home. He was just some kid scraping by on his own, fighting to survive. And she knew that. She took him in, gave him everything he never had—but at a cost."

My chest tightened, a sick feeling twisting in my gut.

Jungkook had always been reckless. Always cold. Always impossible to read. But if this was true, if he had been under Jade’s control since he was fourteen, then maybe it wasn’t recklessness at all. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe he had never truly been free.

"She built him into what she wanted—trained him, conditioned him. And by the time he was old enough to fight back, it was too late. He belonged to her."

I felt like I was going to be sick.

But Damian kept going, his voice lower now, as if saying the words out loud made them more dangerous. "Jade always knew how to break people, but with Jungkook… she made sure he never even knew what it was like to not be broken, s-she had sex with him to solidify the terms of the contract, s-she made him think that the only person he could ever rely on was her and t-that her sexual advances on him was love."

I shook my head, my mind refusing to accept the weight of Damian’s words. My pulse pounded against my skull, each beat drumming louder than the last. "She couldn’t have," I whispered, my voice breaking under the sheer disbelief clawing its way through me. "Damian, he was just a kid. He was fourteen. She couldn’t have done that—"

But even as I said it, the words felt hollow. A weak attempt to deny the undeniable.

Damian exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face as if trying to wipe away the memories. His jaw was tight, his expression dark with something dangerously close to rage. "She did, AJ. That fucking bitch didn’t just manipulate him—she rewired him. She took a lonely, desperate kid and made him believe that the only way to survive was to belong to her."

My stomach twisted.

"She distorted his understanding of love," Damian continued, his voice laced with barely contained fury. "Made him think that what she was doing was okay. That an older woman acting like that with him was normal.Because she was the only one who ‘cared’ about him. The only one who ‘understood’ him." He spat the words like poison. "She groomed him, AJ."

A sickening wave of nausea crashed over me.

Jungkook never talked about his past. Not in detail. I had always thought it was just his nature—his unwillingness to open up, his need to keep people at a distance. But what if it wasn’t that at all? What if he had spent so long under Jade’s control that he didn’t even know how to talk about it?

What if he thought there was nothing wrong with it?

I felt my chest tighten, my breaths coming quicker. "He never told me." The words barely made it past my lips. "He never said—"

"Because he didn’t see it the way we do," Damian cut in, shaking his head. "Jade didn’t just use him, AJ. She created him. Made sure he never even questioned it. She made herself his entire world before he ever got the chance to build one of his own, that’s why he didnt think twice when she told him to do the same with you, he thought it was normal."

My hands clenched into fists at my sides.

A cold shiver ran down my spine as Damian’s words settled deep into my bones. My nails dug into my palms, the sting barely registering against the storm raging inside me.

"She told him to do the same with me."

The realization sent a sharp pang through my chest, twisting something inside me that I wasn’t ready to confront.

Jungkook hadn’t just hurt me because he was reckless. He hadn’t just manipulated me because he was cruel. He had done it because he had been taught to. Because, to him, it wasn’t manipulation—it was just the way things were.

That’s what Jade had done to him. She had broken him so thoroughly that he couldn’t even see the cracks.

My breath hitched as memories flooded in, ones I had buried under layers of anger and resentment. The way Jungkook had reeled me in, the way he had made me feel like the only person in the world—only to push me away just as easily. The way he had controlled every situation, how he had known exactly what to say to keep me tethered to him, even when I swore I wouldn’t fall for it again.

It had all been learned behavior. A survival instinct, ingrained into him since he was fourteen.

I took a shaky breath, my voice barely above a whisper. "He didn’t know any different."

Damian nodded, his expression grim. "He thought that was what love was supposed to be. Because that’s what Jade made him believe."

The weight of it all was suffocating. I had spent so long hating Jungkook. Hating him for everything he had put me through, for every scar he had left behind. But now… now I wasn’t sure who I was supposed to be angry at anymore.

"I should have seen it," I muttered, my throat tightening. "I should have realized—"

"No," Damian interrupted, stepping closer. "AJ, listen to me. None of us saw it. Not you, not me. Not even him. Because that’s how she wanted it. That’s how she’s always worked. She made sure we were too caught up in the damage to ever question where it was coming from."

I bit my lip, my chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

Jungkook never stood a chance.

My hands trembled at my sides as I turned back to Damian. "She won’t stop," I whispered, my voice hollow. "Not until she has him back under her control. Or until he’s dead."

Damian nodded. "I know."

The realization was suffocating. Jade had nearly destroyed me. But Jungkook? She had built him from the ground up. He wasn’t just another pawn to her—he was her creation.

And she wasn’t going to let that go. My mind reeled, thoughts racing too fast to hold onto. Adam. The accident. The open window. It was all starting to connect in a way that made my skin crawl. If I was right—if Adam was working with Jade—then she wasn’t just trying to control Jungkook.

She was trying to finish him.

I inhaled shakily, pushing down the fear clawing at my throat. "We need to get him out of here. Now."

Damian nodded. "The private doctor’s on his way. We’ll move him as soon as he gets here. But AJ…" He hesitated, his voice dropping lower. "If we do this, if we take Jungkook out of here… we’ll be making ourselves targets. You realize that, right?"

I looked down at Jungkook, at the way his fingers twitched slightly in his sleep, as if even unconscious, his body was still fighting against something. I reached out, hesitating for a brief second before carefully wrapping my fingers around his hand. It was cold. Too cold.

I squeezed gently, my voice steady.

"I don’t care what happens to me," I said. "As long as we keep him alive."

Damian exhaled, then gave a short nod. "Then let’s end this."

[tessa-liam]

A Marabelle Series...

One-shot, upcoming chapter snippet

Thank you @snoopdogcone for your ask...prompt: First Valentine's Day Date after a big break up!

Choices book: The Royal Romance, book2

Pairing: Drake Walker x Riley Brooks (F!OC)

Rating: Mature

Category: angst/fluff. One-shot, ask/prompt

A/N: not Beta’d, please excuse all errors.

A/N2: CFWC Valentine's Day 2025, prompt: Ouch! - First Valentine's Day after a big break up.

Premise: It's Valentine's Day, Drake is remembering the last fight he had with his now ex-girlfriend, Melanie. Sitting alone in the beer garden, his outlook on life instantly improves when Riley Brooks enters and bumps into him.

As the familiar strains of a Cordonian folk song hummed from the far corner of the beer garden, Drake downed the remnants of his beer and scowled to himself.

He should have known it wouldn't work out with Melanie. Hell, it was Valentine's Day, for Chrissake. A holiday invented to screw with bachelors everywhere. All of the cute little couples strolling by outside with their perfect life. Ugh. If I have to listen to someone ask for an 'appletini', I might just drown myself in that damn thing.

On the one day when his lack of romanticism would be glaringly evident to the rest of the bar crowd, the last thing Drake wanted to do was to be around people. As the dour thought crossed his mind, it seemed that the very world conspired against him.

Just then, another patron bumped against Drake's arm. As the person went to apologize, she turned to him and stopped.

"Drake?" the feminine voice said with surprise. "It's me... Riley."

As he shifted in his chair, Drake recognized the woman's piercing hazel eyes and charming smile. It was hard to forget someone like her, who was bursting with charisma and personality. He knew instantly who she was, but he played ignorant.

"Well, I needed to get out of my apartment..."

"Oh, hey, Riley. What brings you here today?

"And the brew at the bar is free today." Drake smirked.

"Yes, that, and not knowing anyone here besides Melanie."

"Ah, so it is Valentine's Day that's got you so worked up," he grinned, shifting a little on the small stool.

"If I was alone," he continued, "there'd be no difference. I usually make a point to keep myself too busy to even realize it's today, so as not to feel so fucking inadequate and depressed."

"Really, you've found this day a blight upon your lonely existence? Because that's totally not how everyone else on the street looked as they sauntered down the road holding hands and giggling," Riley chided him, doing a spot-on imitation of the most saccharine romantic she could think of.

"This, I would not deny. Clearly, others have the magical ability to connect and establish real relationships with actual human beings. This does not work for the emotionally stunted, who prefer a good bottle of whisky anyway. Their company is sufficient; it does not care who is paying for dinner."

Riley rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her appletini, smiling ruefully at him as she chewed on an ice cube. It felt nice to make conversation with him. They were usually working when she saw him and not really talking about anything significant. She would occasionally shoot him a glance or two, but it wasn't really an equal exchange.

"Maybe I can remedy the issue of no company on the date," she grinned, enjoying their light banter. "But where is the famous Melanie today?"

"Melanie," he started, his mouth turning into a sneer when he mentioned her name.

"Oh shit, did she leave you for the romantic stroll under the street lamp?" She patted him on the back empathically.

"Well, not exactly..." he trailed off, unsure of the word choice for describing his previous romantic involvement.

"Well, I take that as good news for you. What happened, Drake?" She brought her eyes up to meet his, cocking her head to the side. She sincerely wondered why anyone wouldn't be attracted to a tall, dark haired, chocolate eyed handsome gentleman. It must be some serious defects and faults for Melanie to say goodbye.

"When did it end? Or should I say, how long had you been expecting for this to happen?"

Drake had the sinking feeling that he'd managed to summon the relationship proverbial demons into the conversation, but for better or worse, he was starting to really like the company of this clever-tongued woman next to him.

"It wasn't expected. Not by a long shot. It ended about a week or two ago."

She frowned, studying his face carefully for the nuance of regret she detected. When he couldn't meet her gaze, she figured out there wasn't any lingering feelings between Melanie and him. The frown turned back into a wicked little grin.

"Damn," he breathed, looking away from her stare. It was unnerving, being so vulnerable.

"Let me guess," she started, gazing at him with her pale, inquisitive eyes. "Things have gotten bad because of all the witty and intelligent discussions. You've driven each other so crazy that you can't stand being with the other anymore. Sound familiar?"

Drake laughed to himself and swiveled his bar stool to face her, resting his back against the bar. He wasn't going to be the only vulnerable one anymore, not if Riley kept probing like that.

"Actually, yes, it was those witty and intelligent conversations that killed the romance."

"I'll drink to that."

"Seriously?!" Riley looked away, glancing at the array of glasses behind the bar. "What kind of geek dates someone and talks for fun, then ruins everything?"

✨️💘✨️

[stupid-elf]

Growing up with strict, neurodivergent parents while neurodivergent yourself will have you as an adult acting like you've recently escaped the feywild. What are the tricky rules? Is everything accounted for? How do I ensure I don't accidentally step over the line into Impoliteness. You know the consequences aren't death and dismemberment but you might look down one day and find you've lost your shadow and all of your friends if you're not careful

[suntails]

a living bolt ⚡

[rustedleopard]

I know I've talked about how Chujin wasn't providing around the house after getting fired from the Steamworks so Ceroba had to pick up the responsibility in his stead and how much Chujin sucks for that but also.. Ceroba does have a responsibility to talk about these sorts of things with Chujin. They're supposed to be equals in the relationship. I'm certain that if she flat out told him "Hey, money is tight around the house and the job I'm working makes me miserable, I need you to find a job and help with things too because I can't be the only one financially contributing and sacrificing myself like this," Chujin would've done that in a heartbeat. He loves Ceroba, he wouldn't want her to suffer like that. His first instinct upon getting fired should've been to find another job and discuss what happened and what happens next with his wife instead of lying and declaring himself retired and getting into volunteer work, but I digress.

The problem is that Ceroba enables a lot of Chujin's habits. She sees him as this perfect figure, so much so that she sides with Chujin even when he's clearly in the wrong/when it's unreasonable. (For example: Messing up building a robot 8 times and lighting the Prince's grave on fire on the final attempt should've at least earned a "Well, even though he finally managed to make Axis work now, I can see why he got fired. I wish he talked about this with me though" instead of a "Screw the Royals, Chujin was right!") On top of that, Chujin's volunteer work came from a place of altruism: he wanted to make the world a better place from the bottom of his heart. So of course she'd be fine with having to take on extra work that made her miserable if Chujin can spread his dream through the Underground.

That's also why she and Chujin would get super-mega-turbo-divorced the split second they encountered a period in their relationship where there was no room for romantic love in it. Because the second the rose-tinted glasses slipped and her Chujin-shaped blind spot stopped being so Chujin-shaped would be the second that she realizes that their relationship isn't as good as she thinks it is. And then it would blow up.

[sweepingthunder]

For every action, there is an equal or opposite reaction. For every piece of information given to Aventurine, there is the chance that should the Luofu's trajectory not align or even cross Preservation, that information may return in spades. Even should his intentions be pure, should their alliance hold true until the sea or stars, space, and matter crumples in on itself, caution should be taken. For the General, such caution was usual, even if perception dictated otherwise. Even should his steps mimic that of The Hunt, he put his people before any god. In doing so, he is forced to combat the worry that should he open up, his people may pay. Or perhaps such worry only hinders the opportunity of this moment.

"Comradery is built on trust." Echoing that sentiment, his chin finds a palm, propped forward at the flame. Digits scratch his cheek, finding some resolve in the darkness around. "The IPC has been instrumental in its survival, and I'd not ask for a better ally..." even if interests were everchanging.

Engaging with someone like Aventurine did yield answers Jing Yuan should have expected, though. Of course he would find that rush of dopamine in finding potential and opportunity as one may find pulling the lever of a slot machine. What does make the General pause is that mention of preservation being amorphous. It makes sense, but it had never crossed his mind. "I hadn't quite thought of it that way. It is not simply surviving, but comfort. Self-sustaining in one instance, growth in others, potential and opportunity in some as well..."

"Then tell me, Aventurine. If you could chase that bliss without the IPC? I don't imagine many factions hold as much potential or opportunity, as you said, but say one were... is your allegiance to the IPC stronger than the your own interpretation of Preservation?" A soft laugh after a moment of silence. "Maybe that question is a little too treacherous to answer so openly. Not that I think there is a right answer, of course."

The blonde was effective at easing through tension. A man whose position had been earned, not given. Can he say the same?

"I don't know the future, but I would like to think my loyalty to the Xianzhou Alliance and to my allies are stronger than my own desire for The Hunt or for myself."

♠　⋮﹒ time past and to come

　　 　　　 　 　　 　❪　event. solstice　/　ghost stories　❫

[neatfrog]

I’m honestly surprised at myself for not noticing/thinking about how Stolas was very likely triggered by Blitzø stomping after him and screaming/insulting him because he dealt with it so much from Stella. As someone who has *been* in an abusive relationship, it takes so long to get out of that fight or flight mindset where you just shut down the second someone starts yelling (at least in my case). It’s been like 8 years now and I still flinch at loud voices even if they’re not directed at me.

soooo yeah I don’t blame Stolas for booting him out at that point

[rainingincale]

.

[antikristvs]

I have never questioned my sexuality before, but the more I think about it, the more heavily I suspect I may be a lesbian, and not bi. At least, well, physically... Because I've always found penises and balls revolting. Even when writing smut, I have the ick, for lack of a better word, even though it's about characters, and not myself.

[simplepotatofarmer]

.

[lilacerull0]

i guess it's in everyone's best interest that we keep the same 5 films on repeat, speak one language and know nothing about history. it's highly encouraged actually.