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flowerandblood · 18 hours ago

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The Last Drop (2/?)

[ modern • vampire • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: kissing, description of blood drinking and bleeding in general, sexual tension, angst, toxic relationship with Alys ]

[ description: Encouraged by the information that the town he has landed in is not known for having the most vigilant police in the world, he decides to go on a little hunting trip to finally quench his burning thirst. However, not everything goes according to plan. (A lot of sexual tension, grumpy, gloomy Aemond). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He was only supposed to stay in this town for three days, eat to his heart's content and return by train to one of his flats a few hours away.

Or at least that was his plan.

He didn't know why he was standing outside a nerdy club where, from what he understood, game and board enthusiasts ate popcorn and nachos while sipping drinks.

Admittedly, he worked on a laptop and using a computer made his life a lot easier: he didn't have to show up at the company as he did his tasks remotely, but he was still far from a fan of modern technology.

He felt that it was killing something, although he wasn't sure what.

She told him that she worked there and that he should come visit her on her shift. She said something about drinks with an extra element, which surely was blood, that she wanted to prepare especially for him.

He was unable to grasp neither the full absurdity of the situation nor why he was just standing outside the entrance like an idiot, instead of returning to his quiet, well-ordered life.

To Alys.

He sighed, glancing down at his phone, seeing that she had sent him another two new messages, several missed calls showed that she was starting to get impatient.

He swallowed hard reading the last message, recognising that he didn't feel like letting Alys play with her at all.

He wrote back and tucked the phone into his pocket, running down the stairs to the premises which were twinkling with lots of coloured lights and neon.

As he stepped inside, he immediately heard 80s electronic music – the Depeche Mode track I just can't get enough was pounding from the speakers around him. The club's clientele was mostly very young, dancing in front of large monitors following the instructions of some character, singing karaoke, playing at a PlayStation or bent over large boards, planning the entire game.

"Hi!" He heard a cheerful voice from behind the bar – when he looked there, he saw her and her wide smile, her hair pinned up in a ponytail on top of her head.

He didn't understand why her eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of him, and why he felt a pleasant warmth at the thought.

Was he so desperate to be noticed and needed?

He thought he was pathetic, but still his feet carried him further to the counter behind which she stood.

"I'm so glad you're here. Would you like to try the drink I mentioned yesterday?" She asked immediately, while her shift mate started to serve another customer.

He just nodded, for some reason embarrassed and overwhelmed, sitting down on one of the high chairs just off the bar.

He saw that she had gone to the back room and then returned with a bottle in which he was sure there was blood.

He looked around anxiously, but no one took any notice.

"I'm going to make a drink for my friend with rum, ice, cherry and apricot juice." She said aloud, pouring something that was certainly not cherry juice along with the other ingredients into a shaker.

He couldn't hide his surprise at the fact that he didn't see any sign of discomfort or fear on her face that someone would discover what she was doing – on the contrary, she seemed delighted to share her next treat with him again.

Although he didn't admit it out loud, fuck, her blood jellies were so good.

She poured the contents of the container into a nice tall glass and put a cardboard straw in it, placing the whole thing right in front of his face.

"I hope you will like it." She said lightly, immediately moving on to attend to the customer behind him.

He reached for the glass, raised it to his lips and hesitantly took a sip from it. He had to bite his lower lip to hold back a smirk of amusement.

It was delicious.

For some reason, being with her made him feel like a human again and maybe that's why he came back.

Maybe that's why he couldn't leave.

"What do you think?" She asked aloud, preparing an order for a second customer, already with completely normal ingredients.

"Very good." He admitted, throwing her a drawn-out, satisfied look.

For some reason, he was smiling.

Her shift ended an hour later so, as per her request, he waited for her at the exit. As she came out of the back room, one of the guys, similar in age to her at least in appearance, clearly drunk, approached her.

"– hi – shit, I know I'm drunk and – you know – but – fuck, will you give me your number? – sorry if I'm imposing –" He mumbled, clearly stressed and filled with emotion.

He saw that this confession had impressed her and did not make her uncomfortable, however, he knew she would refuse.

She, unlike him, was not playing with her food.

"Forgive me, but I already have someone." She said and looked up at him, surprising him completely.

He snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

"– oh – I'm so sorry – I thought –" The boy began to babble, clearly embarrassed, wanting for sure now to erase from her memory what he had said and just disappear.

"– it's okay – you're really sweet –" She assured him warmly and walked past him, throwing him a horrified, apologetic look.

"You already have someone?" He sneered, walking up the stairs at her side, stepping out into the fresh night air at last.

"Sorry, I didn't know what to answer. Don't be mad. Otherwise he'd be getting his hopes up." She said with sincere concern, grabbing his coat sleeve, clearly wanting him to accept her explanation and look at her.

"Nevermind." He said, not knowing what he was doing here.

I should go home, he thought.

"If you want, you can rest in my apartment." He heard her voice and swallowed loudly, thinking that he shouldn't.

He shouldn't, but he ended up lying in her bed anyway, with his fangs sunk into her fragrant neck, snuggled into her soft flesh. Her fluffy pyjamas, consisting of trousers and a shirt buttoned up the front, smelled of some pleasant, delicate washing powder.

He had to undo a few buttons to reach the hollow of her neck, or at least that's how he explained it to himself – his hand, as he drank her blood in slow, lazy sips, brushed her plump breast under the material, founding itself there completely by accident.

Every time his thumb, also by accident of course, rubbed her hard nipple, something on the edge of a sigh and a moan left her lips: her body tensed like a string, vulnerable and responsive to his every move.

It occurred to him that what he was doing, as well as the reactions of her own body, were a surprise to her – she was certainly not as experienced in these matters as he was, if at all.

That thought aroused him even more.

When he finally pulled away from her, he wanted to take his hand from under her shirt, but her fingers stopped him, pressing it back against her skin. He sighed as she turned with him, when, trailing her knuckles along his long jaw, this time it was her moist lips that reached his neck.

He licked his mouth and flinched, feeling the dull pain and sting as her fangs dug slowly into his flesh. He closed his eyes, focusing on the softness of her breast under his hand, kneading it gently in his palm, feeling the wonderful, intimate scent of their blood all around them.

Sip after sip she quenched her thirst, cuddling up to him like a small child – he couldn't help the pleasant shiver that ran through his lungs as she threw her leg over his hip, pressing her body against his.

When she finally pulled away from his neck, she laid her head on the pillow right next to his – their lips, chins and cheeks were all sticky with blood. When she leaned towards him, they simply kissed: he grunted with delight, feeling their mingled taste melt on his tongue, and pressed her tighter to himself, clasping his free hand in her hair.

It doesn't mean anything, he repeated to himself, forcing his tongue deep into her throat, rolling with his hips back and forth, rubbing his swollen erection against her lower abdomen.

He was simply tired and she was a break from the monotony of his life.

He would get bored with her quickly, as he did with all the women before her.

He opened his eyes as she pressed her forehead against his, listening to their loud, raspy breaths. He gasped as her fingers ran down his cheek, as the tips of their tongues brushed invitingly, clicking with each lazy lick, sending a delicious, hot shiver down his spine.

It was one of the most perverse sensations he had ever experienced in his life.

He was unable to contain the pleasant, warm feeling that spread through his heart as she combed her fingers through his short hair – to his displeasure, she broke the caress and kissed the tip of his nose.

He was fully hard, but he had no intention of taking more from her than she was willing to give him.

"Why did you come?" She asked in a whisper, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

He simply looked at her for a moment, wondering what he should answer.

Why he had actually done it again.

"I don't know." He replied finally. "I don't know the answer to that question."

His words did not discourage or sadden her, as she smiled with understanding.

"I see. Rest now. I will too." She said softly.

They both lay on their stomachs, embracing each other with their arms around each other's waists – their foreheads still touched as they both closed their eyes.

For some reason, he wanted to feel her close.

They weren't friends, just some strange kind of lovers, he realized with pain, but he felt a strange discomfort at the thought, indicating that he himself wasn't sure he believed what he was trying to tell himself.

What had he really come for?

What was he expecting?

Was he simply curious about how her drink tasted?

How their night would turn out?

Would he drink her blood again?

Will they have sex?

Will they fall asleep next to each other?

He closed his eyes, recognising that it didn't matter.

For the first time in many years he had fully quenched his hunger.

The thought that this was surely the last night he would spend with her filled him with a strange kind of sadness and regret – he held her close in his embrace, knowing that he would eventually have to tell her that he didn't live here at all.

That he had lied to her.

When she woke up and lifted her head, she saw his face – she smiled sweetly in a way from which he felt a sting in his heart.

Although all sticky with blood, she looked so innocent.

"I lied to you." He said.

She blinked and shook her head, surprised and horrified, her expression one of complete consternation.

"What do you mean?" She muttered.

"I didn't move here. I just came for a while. You know. To eat." He explained, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding in his chest like crazy.

Why was he scared?

"Oh. I understand. We don't know each other well yet, you had every right to act like that. Don't worry." She said reassuringly, making him feel an uncomfortable tightness in his throat, a wetness under his eyelids that he hadn't felt in years.

What was happening to him?

"There's someone out there waiting for me. And I don't want her to find out about you. It would be dangerous for you. I'm leaving today." He whispered with surprising difficulty, hearing, shocked, that his voice broke at the last sentence.

He saw her eyebrows arch in pain, her nose twitched as her eyes turned red with tears, the request and plea for him to stay written on her face so clearly that she didn't need to say anything.

Instead of stopping him, however, she let him go and pulled away slightly.

"Your friend?" She asked, not looking him in the eye, but at his chest.

He had a feeling that if he opened his mouth, he would cry.

He let his broad, pale hand raise – his fingers ran gently across her cheek in some hopeless attempt to comfort her.

"If I could, I would take you with me." He said with difficulty, hearing, embarrassed, how pathetic it sounded.

She laughed, but it was a chuckle full of sadness and disappointment, from which he felt a cold, unpleasant shiver.

"Is that how it is with you? Do you play separately and then come back together?" She asked.

He swallowed hard, feeling as if a stone had fallen to the bottom of his stomach, dragging him down.

He felt ashamed at the thought of how accurately she had judged him.

"Go back to her, but don't mention me. I don't need any more problems, much less a jealous woman on my mind." She said, rising from the bed at last, leaving him with emptiness and coldness all around.

"Of course. I'm not going to expose you." He muttered, raising himself up on his elbow, stupefied, feeling like he'd woken up from some deep sleep.

It wasn't real.

"Do you need blood? I can give you a few bags." She said calmly, standing with her back to him, pacing the kitchen as if she were preparing to make herself breakfast.

"No. No need."

The sky outside the window was cloudy, exactly as his thoughts – he was sitting in a train car filled with people, and although he usually struggled to control himself, he felt no hunger.

Her blood satisfied him.

He lowered his gaze, wondering why he didn't feel like he was coming home at all. Usually after such a journey he was tired and discouraged, relieved to return to what was familiar to him. Now, however, he felt like he was sinking deeper and deeper into the dark, damp underworld of his heart.

What was really waiting for him there?

He got the answer as soon as he crossed the threshold of his flat.

Alys was waiting for him with candles all around her, which she must have lit beforehand. She looked very good: an elegant knee-length black dress perfectly accentuated her physical assets, her long hair falling loosely over her shoulders.

He didn't know why, but the sight of her made him feel uncomfortable.

Is this how it is with you?

Do you play separately and then come back to each other?

It's not like that, he thought.

It's just that when I go home, she's already waiting for me there.

Always.

"What's that face? Did you kill someone?" She asked with a hint of amusement, rising from the couch, a pretty, ornate goblet filled with blood in her hand.

Fresh blood.

He didn't want to know where she'd gotten it or who'd paid for it.

"No." He replied wearily, putting the keys down on one of the shelves in the corridor.

I don't have the strength for this, he thought.

"I've missed you. This city is so boring when you're not around." She said softly, combing her long nails through his short hair.

He felt an unsettling shudder when she did this: unlike her touch, in which there was first and foremost a desire for comfort, there was pure sexual intent in Alys's.

She wanted to get straight to the point.

He closed his eyes as she embraced him from behind, as her lips placed a kiss on his neck, as her free hand slowly slid down his torso between his thighs. She froze, not finding there what she had clearly expected.

He wasn't hard.

"What's the matter? Aren't you in the mood? Didn't you miss me?" She asked, and he sighed, taking her hand from his crotch.

"No." He replied again, pulling his coat off his shoulders.

He felt the atmosphere around them grow thicker, knowing that her momentary silence was not a good sign.

She was preparing to attack.

"Are you in love with some poor human girl again? You'll get over it, as you always do. She'll eventually grow old and die, and you'll come back, seeking comfort from me." She muttered with a kind of certainty in her voice that annoyed him.

"What are you doing in my flat?" He asked dryly, knocking her off guard.

She looked at him, wrinkling her eyebrows, increasingly frustrated.

"I came to say hello to you. I was hoping for a warmer welcome." She replied coldly.

Welcome, meaning wild sex full of blood?

"I don't recall inviting you. I want to rest." He said dryly, sidestepping her, feeling some kind of frustration and regret.

Because of you, I had to leave her behind.

She needed me.

But if I had stayed with her, she would have found out what a jealous monster you are.

Alys was able to reconcile with his female human lovers because she knew they would eventually disappear – she herself did not shy away from such excesses, fucking young, handsome boys whenever the opportunity arose.

A female vampire, however, would be a threat to her.

"Ah, yes. You only need me when you cry and miss your mummy. When the remorse and memories of how you killed your father come back. But don't worry. I know you better than you know yourself. Have fun, and when you're done, come and we'll forget this conversation." She said dispassionately and grabbed her coat, putting on her high-heels on the way, leaving his flat with a loud slam of the door.

He rested his hands on the countertop and leaned forward, for some strange reason feeling relieved.

He was alone.

He sat down at his old oak desk and opened his laptop – he sighed heavily as he saw 46 new emails from work, knowing he would have to wade through them all one by one.

He had always loved reading, and over his far too long life he had read so many books that he thought he might be able to make some money from it. He therefore became an editor and translator for a publishing house that released volumes of poetry, but also books on history and philosophy.

He liked this job: he received assignments by email, and could discuss them over the phone. His employers were happy with his work, and his readers praised the fidelity of his translations and revisions, so in the end he managed to live on that alone.

He used an alias and false documents so no one has yet realised that he has been several other people in different countries over the past decade.

He could, of course, like other vampires, simply kill rich people and steal their life savings, however, he knew that in the long run such a life was very miserable: for obvious reasons it is then easier to draw attention to yourself and you still have to hide.

He had enough of that.

Maybe that's why she made such an impression on me, he thought.

She lived as if nothing had happened.

He sighed, running his hand over his face, feeling nothing but remorse at the memory of the expression on her face when he told her he was leaving. He didn't understand why those three days had affected him so much, why she, a stranger, had made him doubt himself completely as a person.

Maybe it was because he had touched her even though he shouldn't have: she had no obligations to anyone, he knew, however, that by entering into any kind of intimate relationship with her, he might be exposing her to Alys' wrath – and even though nothing but a kiss had actually happened between them, he had the feeling that they had had sex at least a few times.

This kind of unforced, intense intimacy, this touch full of desire and need for closeness, was so painfully sincere that it went beyond what he was usually familiar with: what he had done was not only out of his physiological needs, but out of something much deeper.

Something more sad, more pathetic, more real.

Some part of him wanted to be human again.

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brookaboo · 2 days ago

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not without you

kei tsukishima x reader

summary: Tsukishima and his girlfriend get into a petty argument, leading her to sleep on the couch. Despite his salty attitude, Tsukishima can’t stand the distance

The apartment was quiet, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the soft tick of the clock on the wall. Tsukishima sat on the couch, arms crossed tightly over his chest, eyes trained on his phone but not really seeing it. His mind replayed the argument from earlier—one of those petty disagreements that seemed to snowball for no reason at all.

You had said something about how he never listened to you, and he had snapped back, as always, with his usual sarcastic quip. It had escalated from there, the sharpness of his words cutting deeper than usual, both of you too stubborn to back down.

And now you were on the couch, lying on your side with your back to him, trying to make some kind of statement by not sharing the bed. The blanket you had pulled over yourself was twisted, not quite enough to keep you warm, but you weren't about to admit you were cold.

Tsukishima had been petty enough to let you sleep there. He wasn’t going to apologize, not right away. He’d let you cool off.

But the longer the silence stretched between the two of you, the more he felt that familiar, annoying tug at his chest. He hated being wrong, and he hated this distance between you even more.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You know, you're really being childish about this," he muttered under his breath.

He glanced at you again, the curve of your back almost mocking him in its stillness. The truth was, he hated being apart from you, even for something as dumb as this. He wasn’t going to admit it, though. Not out loud.

Time passed. Tsukishima tried to distract himself, but all he could think about was how weird it felt, how uncomfortable it was to not be close to you. The couch was too big, the space between you and him too wide.

He couldn't sleep without you.

After a few more minutes, he gritted his teeth and stood up. His usual smoothness was replaced with a slight awkwardness, the realization that he hated the tension more than the argument itself sinking in. He walked over to the couch, trying to act like he wasn’t feeling anything—his usual “I don’t care” attitude kicking in.

You stayed still, though, pretending to sleep, your breathing steady, betraying the way your mind raced.

Tsukishima smirked to himself. "Pretending to sleep, huh? Real mature."

He could feel the warmth of the room, the familiar scent of your shampoo mixing with the cool air around him. And, despite the petty fight, his heart couldn't ignore the pull. He crouched down and, with a soft grunt, carefully scooped you up from the couch.

You opened one eye, but he was already looking at you with that sharp, unamused expression.

"What do you think you're doing?" you asked, trying to keep the bite out of your voice.

He didn't answer. He simply picked you up and walked toward the bedroom, carrying you as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Tsukishima," you muttered, a bit embarrassed now, even though you had been the one to act childish in the first place.

"Shut up," he replied gruffly, "I can't sleep without you either."

You let out a soft laugh, surprised that, despite his annoyance and sarcasm, he was still holding you like you meant everything to him.

When he finally reached the bed, he carefully laid you down, following you as you both settled beneath the covers. You moved closer, instinctively, and Tsukishima, too, slid closer, his arm wrapping around your waist. He sighed contentedly, the anger from earlier slipping away like water down a drain.

He wasn’t going to apologize, not in so many words, but in the way he rested his chin on your head, in the way he gently tugged you even closer.

"I don’t like sleeping without you," he muttered, his voice quieter now, softer.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the familiar rhythm of his breathing easing the tension that had been between you both. "I know," you whispered. "Me neither."

He didn’t answer, but his grip around you tightened, pulling you into the embrace. You both finally closed your eyes, the argument already forgotten, drifting off to sleep in the comfort of each other's arms

#kei tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x reader

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kathlare · 2 days ago

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stages of success

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: As Lando watches Amelie make her debut on Saturday Night Live from across the Atlantic, he’s overwhelmed with pride and admiration for her. Surrounded by friends, he witnesses her command the stage with confidence and charm, reaffirming the connection and mutual support that binds them despite the physical distance.

Wordcount: 1.5 k

Warnings: fluff, smau

May 18th, 2024 - New York City, NY

The sun was barely up, casting a soft orange glow over the paddock, and Lando Norris sat in front of his hotel room’s television, a cup of coffee cradled between his hands. The faint hum of the early morning buzz of the F1 world surrounded him, but his focus was elsewhere. His eyes were locked onto the screen where, in just a few minutes, the night in New York City would unfold.

Amelie was about to make her Saturday Night Live debut.

Lando shifted uneasily in his seat, barely noticing the burn of his coffee as he sipped. His chest felt tight with nerves—not for the Emilia Romagna Grand Prix, where he’d be racing in just a few hours, but for her. Amelie’s performance was monumental, and he hated being so far away.

The room wasn’t empty, though. Scattered around him were Alex Albon, George Russell, and Charles Leclerc, all lounging in various states of pre-race morning laziness. Charles’s girlfriend, Alexandra, sat curled up on the couch next to him, and their tiny puppy, Leo, lay sprawled on her lap, occasionally wagging his tail as if sensing the tension.

—You good, mate?— George asked from the corner of the room, his feet propped up on a table, his usual smirk softened by genuine curiosity. —You’ve been staring at that screen like you’re the one about to go on stage.—

Lando shot him a look, half-amused and half-nervous.

—She’s never done anything like this before. It’s… a big deal,— Lando mumbled, drumming his fingers against the coffee cup.

Alex chuckled from his spot, leaning against the arm of the couch.

—Amelie? Nervous? Mate, she survived The White Lotus critics and winning an Oscar at twenty. SNL will be a breeze for her.—

Charles nodded in agreement, scrolling through his phone but clearly tuned into the conversation.

—She’s got that confidence,— Charles said, his voice steady. —She’s always had it. You’ve seen it more than any of us.—

Lando’s lips twitched into a smile, the kind that spoke of memories only he and Amelie shared. She did have that confidence—most of the time. But he also knew the vulnerability she rarely let anyone see, the late-night calls where she second-guessed herself, the way her voice wavered when she admitted how much something mattered to her.

The livestream began, and the room fell quiet as the opening monologue started. The camera panned through the iconic SNL stage, and Lando’s heart raced. The others watched with casual interest, but for Lando, this was personal.

—There she is,— Alex said, nudging Lando’s shoulder as Amelie’s name appeared on the screen.

And then, she stepped into the spotlight.

—Bloody hell, she looks stunning,— George muttered, earning a teasing look from Lando.

—Eyes on the screen, Russell,— Lando quipped, unable to hide the pride in his voice.

Amelie launched into her first song, Feather. The opening notes were soft, almost ethereal, and her voice carried through the studio like a gentle wave. But as the tempo picked up, so did her energy. She owned the stage, her every movement purposeful and magnetic. The crowd was hooked, and so was Lando.

—She’s smashing it,— Charles said, his tone more serious now. Even Leo seemed mesmerized, his little ears perking up as Amelie’s voice filled the room.

Lando didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. His eyes stayed glued to the screen, a soft smile playing on his lips. He knew she was talented, but watching her like this—on a stage so iconic, so far away from the world they shared—it hit differently.

When Feather ended, the audience erupted in cheers. Amelie laughed, breathless but glowing, and took a moment to thank the crowd before transitioning into her next song.

The song was upbeat, lively, and unapologetically Amelie. She moved across the stage with ease, her energy infectious. The chorus hit, and Lando found himself tapping his foot to the beat, his grin widening as he remembered how she’d written it during their long phone calls last year.

—She’s having so much fun,— Alexandra said, nudging Charles. —You can tell she loves this.—

—She’s brilliant,— Charles agreed, his eyes softening. —You should be proud, Lando.—

—Oh, I am,— Lando said, his voice quiet but steady.

As the performance ended, Amelie blew a kiss to the audience and mouthed a “thank you” before the screen cut to commercial. Lando leaned back in his seat, exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His phone buzzed, and he glanced down to see a message from her.

Ames💛: How did I do? Be honest, Norris. I need to know if I can still brag about this later.

Lando couldn’t help but laugh softly. She always managed to mix her charm with that playful cockiness that he adored. Typing quickly, he replied:

Lan🧡: You were incredible. Like, stop-the-world-to-watch kind of incredible. Everyone here agrees. Even Leo.

The broadcast resumed, and Lando leaned forward again as Amelie returned for a short skit. She was hilarious—her timing perfect, her expressions exaggerated just enough to draw out the audience's laughter.

—She’s a natural,— Alexandra said, clapping softly as the skit ended.

—Told you she’d smash it,— Alex added, nudging Lando.

Lando nodded, his chest swelling with pride. This was Amelie in her element, showing the world what he’d always known: that she was extraordinary. As the show wound down, he grabbed his phone again, hesitating for just a moment before hitting the FaceTime button.

It rang twice before Amelie’s face appeared on the screen. She looked radiant, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling with excitement.

—Hey, rockstar,— Lando said, his voice warm.

—Hey, race boy,— Amelie shot back, her grin wide. —So, did I pass?—

—Pass? Ames, you fucking aced it,— Lando said, and the room erupted in cheers behind him. He turned the phone slightly so she could see everyone.

—Amelie! You were amazing!— Alexandra called out, waving.

—Absolutely brilliant,— Charles added, holding up Leo in a mock applause. —Even Leo thinks so.—

—When’s the tour?— George teased, leaning into view.

Amelie laughed, running a hand through her hair. —Thanks, guys. And George, don’t tempt me. I might actually make you come as my roadie.—

Lando watched her with a mix of awe and affection. She was glowing, her confidence radiating through the screen. It was moments like these that made him fall even harder for her, though he’d never admit that out loud—not yet.

—You know,— Lando said, his tone shifting to something softer, —I wish I could’ve been there. Watching it live, in person. I’m so proud of you.—

Amelie’s expression softened, her teasing fading for a moment. —Thanks, Lando. That… means a lot. And I wish you could’ve been here too. But I’ll settle for knowing you were watching.—

—Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,— Lando said. He hesitated, then added with a smirk, —Even if it meant dealing with these clowns all morning.—

—Oi!— Alex protested, but the room dissolved into laughter.

Amelie smiled, her gaze lingering on Lando through the screen. —Well, you’ve got a big day ahead, so don’t let me keep you. Go kick some ass on the track for me, alright?—

—Only if you promise to go to bed and actually rest, rockstar,— Lando replied.

—Deal,— she said, blowing him a kiss through the screen.

—You’re amazing, Ames,— Lando said softly, the others fading into the background as he focused solely on her.

—So are you, Norris. Now go be great. Talk soon?—

—Always,— he replied, and with a final smile, the call ended.

Lando set his phone down, his heart lighter despite the weight of race day looming ahead. For now, though, he let himself bask in the glow of Amelie’s success, knowing that no matter how far apart they were, they’d always find their way back to each other.

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liked by taylorswift, georgerussell63, and others

ameliedayman: my first time on SNL!!! @nbcsnl and the season finale!!! Thank you Lorne 🤍 thank you Brian, the genius cast, writers and crew for being so welcoming. thank you to my whole crew for your endless talent!!!

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landonorris: FIRST

landonorris: You killed it, babe. No surprise there. 😏🔥 → ameliedayman: @landonorris Gotta make sure I make you proud. 😉💋

fan1: I can’t even handle how effortlessly amazing she is. This is her moment. 🔥 → fan2: @fan1 Honestly, she just dropped an iconic moment and I’m living for it. 😩

michaelronda: SNL nunca estuvo tan cool. Te lo digo. 🔥 → ameliedayman: @michaelronda ¡Gracias! Ojalá hubiera visto mi cara al entrar. 😆

francisca.cgomez: That energy is unmatched. So proud of you. ❤️ → ameliedayman: @franciscacgomez You’re making me cry. Love you, chica. 🥺

stelladayman: They better have given you a standing ovation, sis. 👏 → ameliedayman: @stelladayman They did, I was lowkey crying backstage. 🥲

aaliyahmendes: First SNL and crushing it? You’re an icon. 💫 → ameliedayman: @aaliyahmendes Thank you, babe. I’ve been waiting for this moment. 😏

fan5: I wish I could be that confident on stage, but then again, who can be? She’s unreal.

fan9: This is her era. I can’t even. 🙌

emiliamernes: Esta actuación en SNL es historia, ¿sabías? ¡Te amo! 😍 → ameliedayman: @emiliamernes ¡Te amo también! Te espero pronto. 😘

taylorswift: First SNL, and you already owned it. So proud of you, girl. 💖 → ameliedayman: @taylorswift If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have taken the stage in the first place. 💘

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evansbuck-ley · 2 days ago

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I have become obsessed with the Henry verse!! It's so cute it makes my heart melt! I was just wondering what's Henry's reaction to being a big brother now??

oh henry is obsessed with rosie

so the day that she was surrounded at the fire station henry was with his grampy bobby. they had been busy all afternoon in bobby’s vegetable garden so henry was completely clueless to what his dads were getting up to back at the 118. it wasn’t until much later he started getting an inkly that something was going on, bc he’s 5 and a half now, he was a clever boy. bobby excused himself from dinner and went into the other room to answer his phone. henry could hear mumbles from the other room but athena was still sat there doing her best to distract him.

when bobby came back to the kitchen he announced, sleep over and henry was thrilled bc more time with grampy bobby!! after dinner bobby tucked him into bed and told him that they were going to meet someone very special the next day and henry was beyond excited.

the next day bobby drives them to the hospital, buck and tommy still had paper work to fill out and a social worker had to do a home visit before they could take her home. when bobby carried henry into the small private room that the one of the nurses had set up for them, the boy was practically vibrating. bobby put henry down on the floor and took off running to where his daddy was sat cradling rosie. tommy scooped him up before he had the chance to collide into bucks legs.

they tell her she is his baby sister and henry just starts gushing over her, when is she coming home daddy? can i hold her? she’s so little daddy. do you think she will come and watch the monster trucks with us and uncle eddie papa?

as they grow up henry’s is just as obsessed, he’s her protector, her first best friend. he plays princess with her when she’s four, he help her with her math homework when she’s six, he’s there when she gets her heart broken for the first time when she’s 13. he loves her as much as a big brother can love his littler sister.

#HENRYVERSE HENRYVERSE HENRYVERSE #ended up a lot longer than I thought lmao #bucktommy #henryverse #they are my favourite thing to talk about

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dexastres · 14 hours ago

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anchor, part two

jude bellingham x black reader

summary : jude calls his ex in the middle of the night because he can’t sleep

warnings : angst

wc : 927

part one

english isn't my language, so please bear with me

2:51 A.M.

After that phone call, she couldn’t get to sleep. How could she when the guilt gnawed at her, thinking Jude was crying because of her? How could she close her eyes after reading the messages he sent? How could she? Her mind was in chaos, in contrast to the calm that filled her room.

“Did he truly mean what he said?” She wondered. She sighed, her thoughts weighed down by nostalgia. She turned on the lights and made her way to her closet, looking for a box.

When she broke up with Jude, she gathered all their photos, letters and small gifts that he had given her, placing them in a box because she couldn’t bring herself to throw them away. It held fragments of a history that she was trying to leave behind, but she knew they had shared a special bond. She had understood it from their very first encounter.

After rummaging through the shelves, she finally found it. She sat down and opened the box. A lump formed in her throat at the sight of it, bringing back countless cherished memories.

“It hurts me to say this, but I still love you, Jude.” She murmured, wiping away her tears. “So, please, don’t hurt me again.” Her voice faded, drowned in the sudden rainfall.

04:55 A.M. “Are you free today? We need to talk.” She sent him this last message before falling back asleep.

07:45 A.M. Jude lay on his bed, listening to the rain outside. His eyes lingered on the empty side of the bed, and his heart clenched at the painful reminder of what he had lost. The young man sighed, but instantly regretted it because of the terrible headache he had after crying so much the night before.

Wincing, Jude got up and headed to his bathroom, without looking at his phone that kept vibrating on his bedside table. When he saw his reflection in the mirror, he gasped; the dark circles under his eyes and his livid complexion made him look like a zombie.

“I’m so glad Ancelotti moved our training to this afternoon.” Jude muttered under his breath, running a shaky hand down his face. Once he was done with his morning routine, he headed to the kitchen, where his mother was preparing breakfast.

“Good morning.” The young man said with a raspy voice. His mother was startled and turned around to face her son, who was entering the room. She was surprised to see him up so early, knowing how much Jude loved to sleep in when his training sessions were scheduled later in the day.

“Good morning.” Denise greeted him with a smile, but it quickly faded when she saw the state her son was in. She walked towards Jude and pulled him into a hug.

“What's wrong, Jude? You can talk to me, you know. I hate to see you like this.” She pleaded, her voice trembling with worry. An overwhelming silence filled the room. Then, suddenly, Jude’s shoulders slumped, and he began to sob. He clung to his mother as tears streamed down his face.

“I miss her, and I’m an idiot for treating her like shit when we were together.” Jude admitted while staring at the floor. He had never been afraid to cry in front of his mother, but this time it was different. The pain he carried was laced with shame.

“I shouldn’t be the one crying when I’m the reason she left. I’m the one to blame for our breakup. She loved me. She always stood by my side. She made me happy, but I never gave her that love in return. I let her go without fighting for us, and now she’s dating someone who treats her better than I did. I regret everything I’ve done. I wish I could go back, fix my mistakes, and tell her how much…"

Jude paused for a moment. "I want to tell her how much I love her."

Denise robbed his back as he continued to speak. She struggled to find the right words, but she understood that her son wasn’t looking for advice, but rather a sympathetic ear. They stayed like that for another five minutes. Jude already felt better. The weight on his shoulders disappeared, although his headache got worse.

“Thanks, Mum. I needed that. I think I’ll go back to sleep. I’ll eat later if that’s okay with you.” Denise nodded in response, then placed a kiss on his forehead before releasing him from her embrace.

“Go rest.” Jude smiled and went back to his room. Lying on his bed, he stared at the ceiling, letting the raindrops soothe him. However, his alarm went off, interrupting his moment of peace.

Frustrated, Jude reached for his phone from the nightstand and it turned off. As he was about to put down his device, a series of messages caught his eye. His eyes widened, his mouth fell open as he read them.

“What? She’s not with him anymore?” His heart pounded, his trembling hands held the phone as he stared at the screen. Jude blinked, both surprised and confused. He didn’t know how to react. A flood of emotions washed over him: hope, guilt and nervousness.

“I have a training session at 2, but I’m free after that. We could meet at our café at 5.” Jude sent the message and closed his phone without waiting for an answer.

“Our café… I haven’t been there since we broke up.” He whispered before falling back asleep.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x black reader #jude bellingham x reader

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gabstea · 11 hours ago

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Levi Ackerman, your history professor whose stoic and sharp figure lingers in your mind far longer than you would ever admit.

The way he carries himself, those sharp gray eyes that seem to follow you every time he moves around the classroom—even when you change seats, even when you're tucked away in the back row—they always land on you.

Damn him for having those thoughts, where his pretty little and bright student provokes heated fantasies when it’s late at night, and he’s lying in bed next to the woman who's supposed to be his wife…

A week ago he had discovered her chats with another man. Texts, photos, everything he despised coming from the person he trusted and loved. He hadn’t said a thing, he acted colder, furious, even aggressive, but stayed silent. He didn’t know why, couldn’t comprehend his own thoughts. He wanted to destroy everything in their room, scream at her and pushed her out of his life, but that wouldn’t satisfy him. Not. One. Bit.

Days passed in a blur. Classes. You. Your clothes. Your eyes. The way you furrowed when focusing on whatever he was explaining in class, the way you said his name... Fuck.

You weren’t so innocent, you caught him glancing your way every time, you lingered and stayed with him longer than you needed, full of questions—or excuses. Your head tilted just so, that subtle smile on your lips. It was driving him insane. Even more so as the betrayal he'd suffered replayed in his mind, over and over again.

Hard times… unbearable times, in which he locked himself in his room the moment his so-called wife was out of sight. A visible bulge on his pants.

"Pathetic," he muttered to himself. He couldn’t have those thoughts for a student, could he? And still, he would jerk off to images he saved on deeper parts of his mind.

He didn’t feel guilty when he finished, he would clean up, methodically as he always did.

The thoughts of his student, of you, stayed. You had become his obsession, the one thing keeping him tethered to life after the betrayal. Somehow, you'd lit a spark in him—that warm sensation in his chest he hadn’t felt in years. Maybe that’s when he realized what had to be done.

Confront his wife. He needed to end it.

An when it was over, when all his rage had burned through him, he sold the house. He packed what he wanted to keep—the necessary, and moved into a quiet, simple apartment where he could be alone.

He would still wait. Wait for the semester to end, wait for the day you were no longer his student. And then, after weeks, months of self-restraint, a simple text would pop up on your phone.

"Wanna grab some coffee?"

Wanted to write something about Levi in a modern au as a professor, so…

#levi ackerman #snk #snk levi #snk fanfiction #aot x reader #levi aot #aot #captain levi #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #attack on titan #levi ackerman imagine #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman x y/n #modern au

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siolixz · 2 days ago

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Family

one-shot

Pairings: Oz 'The Penguin' Cobb x reader

You and Oz settle down in a big penthouse and kids arrive. Very self indulging fanfic. This is quite short but I tried my best to give y'all something- I miss him. ( ˘︹˘ )

Enjoy and give feedback if you want :)

Contents: fluff

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you waited for your husband to come home.

Was he going to be happy?

What a silly question, of course he was going to be happy. He’s been telling you non-stop how excited he was to start a family with you.

So why are you nervous?

You paced around the master bedroom you two shared- pregnancy test in hand.

Why is he taking so long?

You sat on the couch in the living room on your phone while the maids were getting the table ready for tonight’s dinner- you made them cook that cake Oz loved.

He has no idea what’s waiting for him.

Between high society meetings and the usual business your husband has to attend to- he was a very busy man. But he never, ever brought any bad moods he had at work back home to you.

“There she is”

You turned around to look at him- dressed in a tuxedo, he looked every bit the rich man he was.

You said hi to him and got up to kiss him:

“You smell nice..” you whispered.

You two talked as he undressed his dress jacket and took off his suspenders, leaving him only in the shirt and black pants he had on- he unbuttoned it a little and got it up to his elbows.

As you two ate, you tried your best not to interrupt him- to break the news and wait for his face to light up- make his whole night.

As the cake was brought on the table and he got the first bite- you couldn’t help yourself. You just couldn’t.

”I gotta ask you something” you started- your stomach full of butterflies

He raised an eyebrow at you- mouth full of cake.

“Do you have any plans 9 months from now?”

He shook his head no.

“Why?”

You took a deep breath-

“Well, in nine months from now- you’re gonna be a dad.”

You smiled at him as you saw him raise his eyebrows in shock.

“You serious?”

You nodded- your heart was so full as you saw him break out in a smile as well

“Are you happy?” You whispered at him as he reached across the table to pull you in his arms.

“I’m the happiest man alive.”

He kissed you gently as he held your face.

Remembering the day you told your husband about your bundle of joy brought tears in your eyes, must’ve a mix of the hormones and the nostalgia you felt as you waited to arrive at the doctor’s appointment.

He held your hand in the backseat as your driver rounded the corner.

Oswald and you already picked out names for him or her. Either way, whatever they were- all that mattered is that they were yours and perfect.

You tried to calm your nerves as you laid on the table- whatever was to come, whatever the doctor told you, you will be there for them.

She placed the cold gel on your belly as your husband held your hand next to you. He was nervous too- you could tell, even if he pretended not to be. He smiled gently at you when you glanced in his direction.

She told you everything was ok, the babies were in the right position and their bodies were alright.

What?

Babies?

”What babies?” Your husband interrupted the doctor “We thought it was just one?”

You couldn’t form any words at that moment, your gaze was fixated on the screen as she turned it around to show you.

She smiled at you- pointing excitedly at the precious lives you carried inside- “You two are going to have your hands full- you’re expecting two girls, see?”

You squeezed Oz’s hand while it was holding your own- chuckling in disbelief as you looked at his shocked expression.

The months went by quickly and your body changed in ways you couldn’t have imagined- by the seventh month, you could barely walk and much to Oswald’s enjoyment, you had an attitude too:

He stared at you as you got naked in the bathroom.

You felt uncomfortable after a long day of trying to busy yourself with various things around the penthouse- his gaze on you only irritated you further.

Was he thinking you looked ugly?

He made you this way!

You turned around at him, angry “What the fuck are you looking at?”

He started laughing “You look beautiful- can’t I look at my wife?”

Now not only did you walk like him, you started acting like him as well.

Oz became way more protective of you than usual as your due date was coming up, you had the most expensive doctors on call and the most experienced nannies ready to help you out once you gave birth, he watched over you like a hawk- you could barely do anything and even if you loved him as much as you possibly could, sometimes you wanted to be left alone too.

You two renovated the nursery where your daughters will be once they came and you already decided on the names- you picked ‘Aurora’ and your husband picked ‘Frances’ for her sister.

Aurora and Frances- how loved they are and they weren’t even here yet.

You talked to them as you massaged your belly at night, told them stories of their grandmothers and their grandfather, you talked to them about their aunt and uncles too- how happy they would all be to see them.

The birth was a hard one- even with the best doctors, midwives and nurses money could buy.

Aurora came first and then Frances, pink and gorgeous- perfect.

Both of them.

The babies cried, you cried- Oz cried. It was all tears in the delivery room. Happy tears.

As they placed your daughters on each side of you Oz kissed your forehead “thank you” he muttered.

Your life changed for the better in the last years. Sure, it is way more chaotic and raising two children wasn’t easy- the nannies helped.

But you were so happy- so happy and so fulfilled

By the 20th month- Aurora was already running around the house and Frances seemed to think she was a storyteller who had to be listened to at all times .

When you would calm Frances down- her sister would start running, as you would grab the more rambunctious one- her sister would start crying and so on and so forth.

Sometimes they would sync together when crying prompting your husband to announce that they were going to be great singers one day- a duet.

Aurora had your husband's eyes and his smile- the same wild twinkle in her eyes just before she was about to do something naughty. She enjoyed watching you two run around the house after her or when Oz would throw her in the air and play with her.

Frances on the other hand- she observed everything with wide eyes, trying to grab a hold of anything close to her- to find out what it was, she was the more inquisitive one for sure. She still enjoyed playing with her sister but she preferred to stick to the sidelines.

They were both well behaved, you thaught them to say 'sorry', 'please' and 'thank you'. No matter how much their father or you spoiled them, they had to know their manners and you were very pleased with their learning abilities.

God, you loved them so much.

Of course you carried them both in your belly so they could look exactly the same as their dad.

They would start screaming whenever they heard his voice or hear him walk and not only that- but they took his accent too.

No matter how hard you tried to teach them how to say things the ‘right’ way- prepare them for school next to the other rich kids in their social circle, they preferred their father’s way of saying things- sometimes it felt like he carried them to full term.

As they grew their father became more and more paranoid- telling you that if he can’t protect you three, then he failed as a father and husband.

I mean, you knew he had enemies, knew he was a dangerous man who shouldn’t be crossed- but having a car full of armed men trailing behind you as you would run errands into town or take the girls somewhere was a bit much.

Oz loved them so much- they were the light of his life, everything he did, he did it for them and for you.

Every night after he came home he would kiss both girls on their your bedroom, of course depending on when he came home.

Tonight was no different as he climbed in the king sized bed to start the TV- watch the news and get his glasses from the nightstand.

He mumbled something under his breath about the politician talking on the news and turned around to look at you as you joined him.

He smiled and wrapped his arm around you as you cuddled close to him.

"They were fast asleep weren't they?"

"Yeah- Frances almost woke up but 'Rory was out like a log." He chuckled. "What do you say we try again, huh?"

You looked up at him

“Maybe try for a boy this time? “

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note: Thank you for reading!!!!!!!!!!

This was an anon request- I don't think I am that good at writing family fics but hey i tried and therefore no one should judge me. I also have another one-shot in the works, something I am quite proud of so far about an up and coming singer who gets a one in a lifetime opportunity to sing at 'Monroe's', the hottest jazz club who was just renovated- there she meets a very wealthy man and owner of said club. Her friends tell her 'no' and 'are you fck insane?' she sais 'me likey old dangerous gangster'- stuff happens in the Rolls Royce after. (͡• ͜ʖ ͡•)

#hbo the penguin #the penguin #oz cobb #the penguin tv #oswald cobb x reader #oz cobb x reader #the penguin hbo #oswald cobblepot #the penguin x reader #oz cobblepot

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cigsaftersuh · 3 days ago

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૮ meaningless friends ྀིა .ᐟ

the news of aunt jia visiting left jaehyun sitting in the living room, his phone resting on the arm of the couch after sending that text. he sighed, leaning back as his eyes traced the familiar ceiling. for as long as he could remember, aunt jia’s visits always came with her sharp tongue and the kind of "advice" no one asked for. it had been easier to tune her out before, but now that you were his wife, his forever, he felt like he had a duty to shield you, even if you weren’t physically here this time.

he glanced down at his phone again, rereading his own message. i can’t allow that disrespect towards either of us.

the words hit harder as he thought about everything you two had been through. jia had always been skeptical of the bond you two shared, constantly nitpicking how close you were growing up. and now that you were finally married? he could only imagine the ammunition she’d think she had.

his mom’s voice broke his thoughts. "jia’s running late, but she’ll be here soon," she said, walking into the living room with a bowl of peeled fruit for him. her tone was casual, but jaehyun could tell she was bracing herself too. it wasn’t like his parents were entirely immune to his aunt’s opinions either.

“i don’t get why she has to visit unannounced,” jaehyun muttered, accepting the fruit and plopping a slice into his mouth. “she’s going to start her usual stuff, i already know. and i’m not gonna let her talk about yn like that.”

his mom replied with a small, understanding smile as she sat beside him. “you’re protective,” she teased, “but jia’s still family, even if she doesn’t know when to stop, so you still need to be respectful to her” she says sternly.

“exactly,” he replied, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees in an attempt to stop them from bouncing. “she doesn’t know when to stop. i’ll be respectful, but i’m not going to let her talk down to me or—” he hesitated, his voice softening, “my wife.”

his mom placed a hand on his shoulder. “she might surprise you, you know. and if she doesn’t, well... your dad and i will back you up if you need it.”

that reassurance helped ease some of the tension in his chest, though he still wasn’t looking forward to the visit.

a knock on the door signaled aunt jia’s arrival, and jaehyun straightened up as his dad went to answer it. the moment she walked in, the air shifted slightly. jia had always been one to appear more put together than she naturally was, her sharp eyes scanned the house as she shrugged her coat off.

“jia, welcome,” his dad greeted warmly, stepping aside to let her in.

“it’s good to see you, brother,” she replied, though her smile was tight. her gaze quickly landed on jaehyun, and he caught the slight raise of her eyebrow. “jaehyun. you look... tired. marriage must be quite the adjustment, hm?”

he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “nice to see you too, aunt jia,” he replied politely, standing to greet her with a brief bow. “marriage has been great, actually.”

she hummed, clearly unconvinced, as she set her bag down. “well, i suppose it’s still the honeymoon phase. enjoy it while it lasts.”

his mom quickly intervened, offering tea and snacks as a distraction. jaehyun stayed quiet for the most part, letting his parents handle the small talk. but as soon as the conversation shifted to you, he felt his jaw tighten.

“i hear y/n is out with friends,” aunt jia said, her tone light but carrying that familiar edge. “i hope she’s not neglecting her duties now that she’s a wife.”

jaehyun’s dad cleared his throat, clearly trying to steer the conversation elsewhere, but jaehyun didn’t let it slide.

“y/n’s amazing at everything she does,” he said firmly, his tone calm but leaving no room for argument. “she’s balancing it all perfectly.”

jia gave him a pointed look, but his stone cold gaze didn’t falter. “that’s good to hear,” she said after a moment, though her tone didn’t match her words.

“i mean, shouldn’t she be spending time with her husband now that she’s married?”

jaehyun’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “she’s with her friends, yeah. she’s allowed to have time with them.” he responded nonchalantly.

jia’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “oh, i’m sure she is. but as a wife... well, she has responsibilities of her own, jaehyun. she shouldn’t be running off with her friends. don’t you think it’s a little... selfish? leaving you all alone like this?”

jaehyun clenched his fists, trying to keep his composure. “it’s not like that. y/n has every right to enjoy her time with her friends. it doesn’t mean she loves me any less.”

“but it does mean something, doesn’t it?” jia pressed, her eyes narrowing. “when she’s out doing whatever while you’re here, waiting... it doesn’t say much for her priorities, does it? i mean, don’t you feel a little neglected?”

before jaehyun could respond, his father interjected, his tone firm. “jia, that’s enough. y/n is her own person. jaehyun and y/n have always had a healthy relationship built on trust. stop trying to make something out of nothing.”

“oh, i’m not trying to make anything up,” aunt jia retorted with a sarcastic laugh. “i’m just saying, married couples should be together, especially when one of them is just sitting around while the other is out. there’s no excuse for that.”

jaehyun’s mom spoke up, clearly irritated now. “that’s enough. y/n is more than capable of managing her time. she’s not neglecting her marriage, and she doesn’t need to explain herself to you.”

jia raised an eyebrow, her expression mocking. “oh, she’s capable, huh? well, i just don’t see why she can’t spend more time with her husband. if it were me, i’d make sure my husband came first.”

jaehyun’s patience was stretched thin now, his voice trembling slightly with annoyance. “you don’t understand. y/n is doing nothing wrong. we trust each other. i trust her.”

his father leaned forward, his voice sharp. “we trust her, too, jia. y/n has never done anything to betray that trust. your comments are out of line.”

jia smirked, crossing her arms. “oh, i know what i see. and if you’re not careful, jaehyun, she might just keep pulling away from you. she might start choosing meaningless things over her marriage. it’s not a good sign.”

“don’t ever call our friends meaningless. y/n’s friends are important to her — the same way mine are to me. you don’t get to decide what’s valuable in our lives. those people matter to her, and that includes me.”

his voice contained a mixture of frustration and hurt as he continued, “it’s not about choosing anything over our marriage. it’s about trusting each other to have time apart, and allowing us to grow, to be ourselves. you don’t understand what we have.”

“she’s right, jia. y/n’s friendships are part of who she is. there’s no shame in spending time with people she cares about.” jaehyun’s mom breaks the silence first, sensing the tension in the air.

but aunt jia wasn’t done yet. “oh, i’m sure they’re lovely friends,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “but if y/n keeps putting them first, jaehyun, you might end up losing her. that’s all i’m saying.”

jaehyun’s eyes welled with tears, the words cutting deeper than he had expected. he wiped his eyes quickly, but the emotion surged again as he spoke, his voice cracking. “you have no idea what y/n and i have been through. she’s not pulling away. she would never do that to me. we trust each other. but you... you just want to tear us apart.”

his mom’s voice softened. “stop, jia. you’re making him upset. you’re crossing a line.”

jaehyun’s dad stood, his expression stern. “you don’t get to talk about our son and daughter-in-law like this. they’ve been together a long time, and they’ve built something strong. you don’t get to undermine that.”

the silence in the room felt suffocating. jaehyun wiped at his face, shaking his head as he turned toward the door, his voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t need this. i don’t need you to tell me what’s going to happen. i know what we have, and i’m more than happy with it.

his aunt’s gaze flickered for a moment, but she just let out a little laugh, brushing it off. “i’m just being honest. sometimes honesty hurts, but it’s necessary.”

prev. 𐙚 next

ㅡ my forever only.

with love,

ʚ taglist - open ɞ

@cstarry @hyuckleberriii @beacauseimmaya @jeongjaeleftbicep @lesuneczka @cryingforjae @ctrlstar @youaremysecretworld @douqhnxtss @dearlyminhyung @jaemnationnn @jaeyunluvbot @nonverdolly

#cigsaftersuh #my forever only #jeong jaehyun #nct smau #nct fanfic #nct u #nct dream #nct #nct 127 #jaehyun #wayv #jaeyun x reader #jaehyun x yn #jeong jaehyun smau #jaehyun smau #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x y/n

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nameless-ken · 2 days ago

Text

Bucky Barnes x Reader - Part Five

Word count: 9.5k (this is a long one)

Warnings: angst, PTSD, mentions of a car crash, death, mentions of death, fluff too because I have to add lightheartedness with angst

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |

Masterlist

The apartment is quiet except for the soft hum of the heater. Alpine lay curled up on Bucky’s lap, her purring the only sound in the room. Bucky stares blankly at the darkened window, his thoughts tangling. His metal fingers idly stroke Alpine’s fur, the sensation grounding him, even if his mind refuses to settle.

He thought of Y/N—her laugh, the warmth in her eyes, the way she makes Elizabeth light up with joy. The past few weeks have been something he hasn’t dared hope for in years: peaceful. But even as he replays those moments in his mind, doubt gnaws at him. Does he really deserve this kind of happiness? Could someone like him—damaged, haunted—be what Y/N needs?

Alpine stretches, her tail flicking against his hand, pulling him from his spiral. He sighs heavily. His phone buzzes on the table, and he leans over to check the notification.

"Steve: Let's meet up at Sam's tomorrow. Something’s come up. We need to talk."

Bucky’s stomach sinks. He sets the phone back down, dreading whatever Steve has to share. It’s always something, isn’t it? His past never lets him rest.

Alpine meows softly, sensing his unease, and nuzzles his hand. He scratches behind her ears absentmindedly before reaching for the notebook resting on the coffee table. The worn cover feels familiar in his hands, a tether to his scattered thoughts.

He flips past pages filled with his looping handwriting—fragments of memory, observations, and the occasional attempt at poetry. He finds a blank page and pauses, the pen hovering above it as if unsure where to start. Finally, he starts:

Am I even capable of being what someone else needs? Or am I just pretending I can be normal, that I can leave it all behind?

The words hang on the page, stark and accusing. His jaw tightens as he continues.

Y/N deserves someone whole, someone who can give her everything without hesitating. And I… I hesitate. I second-guess every good thing because I don’t believe I’m allowed to have it. But then she smiles, and for a moment, I think… maybe. Maybe it’s okay to try. But is trying enough? I put up a front around her. I suppress my struggles around everyone as to appear normal.

He stops, pressing the pen harder into the paper than he meant to. The letters blur as his vision clouds, memories of cold steel restraints and harsh voices pressing in.

Alpine shifts on his lap, her weight reminding him where he is. He exhales shakily and sets the notebook aside, rubbing a hand down his face.

Whatever Steve and Sam are coming to talk about, he already knows it will dredge up parts of his past he’d rather forget. And if those parts ever reach Y/N, what then? Would she stay? Or would she look at him the way so many have before—like a problem to fix, or worse, like something broken beyond repair?

He’s been too afraid to let her see his metal arm. It’s more than just the limb—it’s the weight of the memories it carries, the pain it represents. He’s ashamed of it, of what it reminds him of every time he looks at it. The thought of her seeing it, of her being hurt or repulsed by the cold, unfeeling steel, terrifies him. What if she sees the arm and, in it, sees the broken man it belongs to?

He stands, Alpine hopping off his lap with a soft protest. Walking to the window, he stares out at the city below, the faint glow of streetlights shimmering against the glass. His reflection stares back at him—tired, burdened, and unsure.

His phone buzzes again, another notification lighting up the darkened room. This time, it’s a message from Y/N:

"Just thinking about you. Hope you’re doing okay."

The tightness in his chest loosens just slightly. He doesn’t reply right away, instead resting his forehead against the cool glass. The heater hums on, Alpine’s purring resuming as she curls back into her spot.

For now, at least, the world feels a little less heavy.

The next morning, Bucky shows up at your apartment, your usual bright smile faltering when you see the dark circles under Bucky’s eyes.

“You okay?” you ask softly, your hand brushing against his arm. He flinches slightly but covers it up with a tight smile.

“Didn’t sleep great,” he mutters.

You tilt your head, unconvinced. “Would you like to come in for coffee or to the usual cafe?”

Bucky hesitates, his eyes flicking between you and the open door behind you. The warmth in your voice and the gentle concern in your eyes make his chest ache in a way he can’t explain. He shouldn’t have come here, not like this. Not when his mind is a storm he hasn’t figured out how to weather.

“Coffee sounds good,” he finally says, his voice quiet. “Here is fine.”

You smile softly, stepping aside to let him in. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get the coffee started.”

As you move to the kitchen, Bucky takes a seat on your couch, his gaze drifting around, admiring all the details–cozy, filled with small, personal touches that feel so distinctly you. There’s a stack of books on the coffee table, a big blue fluffy blanket draped over the arm of the couch, and a framed photo of you and two little boys sitting on a shelf. His heart clenches at the sight of it.

You hum softly as you prepare the coffee, a light tune that drifts into the living room. It’s a sound that, despite himself, Bucky finds calming. He rests his elbows on his knees, staring down at his hands—the metal one covered with his usual leather glove, rests heavily against his thigh.

When you return with two mugs in hand, you pause, taking in the way his shoulders are hunched and the faraway look in his eyes. Setting the mugs down on the table, you sit beside him, close but not too close.

“Hey,” you say gently, drawing his attention back to you. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me.”

Bucky exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing,” he lies, his voice strained. “Just...Steve and Sam want to talk. Probably something from my past catching up to me again.”

Your brow furrows with concern. “Do you want me to be there for support?”

His eyes widen slightly, and he shakes his head quickly. “No. No, it’s not...you don’t need to be involved in that.”

“Okay,” you say softly, not wanting to push him. “But if there’s ever anything you need, I’m here. You know that, right?”

He nods, swallowing hard. The sincerity in your voice makes his chest tighten. For a moment, he considers telling you everything—his fears, his doubts, his nightmares. But the words don’t come. Instead, he manages a small, grateful smile.

“I know,” he says quietly. “Thank you.”

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a while, sipping coffee. Your presence is steady, unwavering, and though Bucky doesn’t say it, it’s exactly what he needs. Your quiet understanding wraps around him like a safety net, catching the parts of him that feel like they’re constantly slipping through the cracks.

Eventually, he glances at the clock on the wall and sighs. He places his mug down on the table, the scrape of ceramic on wood making you glance up.

“I should get going,” he says, his voice low but steady.

You frown, clearly not wanting him to leave just yet. “Are you sure? You could stay a little longer.”

He shakes his head, standing and running a hand through his hair. “Steve and Sam are waiting. Whatever it is, it’s better to just deal with it sooner than later.”

You stand, too, following him to the door. Your fingers brush his as you hand him his jacket, and he tenses slightly but doesn’t pull away.

“Bucky,” you say softly, your voice drawing his gaze to yours. “Whatever it is, you’ll get through it. And if you need me, I’m just a call away.”

He holds your gaze for a moment, his blue eyes searching yours, his expression unreadable. His attention flickers briefly to your lips before a faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth—small, hesitant, but real.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, his voice low as he shrugs on his jacket. He pauses, a flicker of indecision crossing his face, and then leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. The warmth of his lips and the roughness of his stubble send a soft flutter through you.

The gesture is fleeting, almost shy, but it leaves you both standing still for a beat longer than usual.

"I'll call you later." Bucky assures you.

You recover first, smiling warmly. “You better,” you say, your tone light yet reassuring.

His smile lingers for just a moment before he steps out the door. As Bucky steps back out into the chilly, morning air, he exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The weight in his chest is still there, but somehow, it feels just a little easier to carry. He adjusts his jacket and starts toward Sam’s apartment.

With every step, the quiet doubts whisper at the back of his mind. The fear of what Steve and Sam might bring, the worry of dragging his past into his present. But he forces himself to keep moving.

If there’s one thing he’s learned over the years, it’s that facing the ghosts of his past is the only way to keep them from haunting his future.

As Bucky enters Sam's apartment, Steve meets him halfway into the living room.

“We don’t have all the details yet, but we’ve been hearing rumors. Someone's digging into your past, asking questions about your arm—your history. Could be anyone, but it’s enough to raise a red flag.” Steve informs as Bucky stands, fists clenching at his side.

His mind races, memories of his past flickering in and out of focus—things he's tried to forget, buried under layers of time and effort.

“What kind of questions?” Bucky’s voice comes out rough, as though it was a struggle to ask, to even speak of it again.

Sam shoots him a glance, his face serious. “Nothing too specific yet, but enough to make it clear someone’s poking around. Doesn’t take much to stir up old ghosts.”

Bucky’s fingers flex at his side, his metal arm feeling heavier than usual. He hates it, hates what it reminds him of. Every inch of him screams to keep it hidden, bury it, away from the world. But now, it seems like the past was coming back for him.

He exhales slowly, his mind clouded with the familiar weight of dread. “I thought I left that part of me behind. Thought I buried it deep enough that it couldn’t find me again.”

Steve’s gaze softens, his expression unwavering. He steps closer, resting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You don’t have to face this alone. We’re here, Bucky. You know that. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Sam nods, his face stoic but with a hint of reassurance. “Yeah. We’ve got your back. Whatever’s coming, we’ll handle it together.”

Bucky swallows hard, the knot in his chest tightening. He wants to believe them, but the past has a way of slipping through cracks, creeping back into his life when he least expects it. He isn’t sure he’s ready for whatever is waiting for him.

For a moment, he stands in silence, his eyes distant. Then he nods, his voice hoarse. “Alright. Let’s figure out what we’re up against.”

Steve gives him a firm, reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before turning toward the door. “We’ll take it one step at a time, Buck. Just keep your head up. And if things get too heavy, don’t hesitate to reach out. You know we’re here.”

With one last glance at Sam, Bucky turns and makes his way out of the apartment, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. But this time, he isn’t alone. And maybe that’s enough to face whatever is coming next.

The next day, Bucky and Elizabeth arrive at your apartment after school. Elizabeth is her usual excited self, bouncing around with a big grin on her face as she talks non-stop about her day. She runs inside, unaware of the tension hanging in the air, but Bucky is different. He’s quieter than usual, his expression distant. You notice it immediately, the way his shoulders are tense, his eyes too focused on something only he can see.

After a moment, Elizabeth disappears into your guest room, dumping out her backpack with some toys to play with. You turn your attention to Bucky.

“Bucky,” you say softly, voice filled with concern. “How are you today? Is something bothering you?”

He hesitates, his eyes flicking toward the door before settling on you. There’s a long pause before he speaks, and when he does, his voice is low, tight.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, but you can hear the strain. “Just some old stuff coming back to bite me.”

You cross your arms, frustration bubbling up but not wanting to push him to talk. You can see through him, the walls he’s built up. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know. I do care about you, and I want to help. But I can’t if you don’t let me in.”

Bucky glances at you, his jaw tight. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something, but then he just shakes his head. “It’s not that simple. You don’t know what it’s like to carry this around—to always be waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Then tell me,” you urge. “Let me in.”

Before he can respond, a loud crash suddenly cuts through the air. Your heart stops as the sound of shattering glass echoes from your guest room. You don’t even think; just spring into action, rushing toward the room with Bucky right behind.

You reach the doorway to the room at the same time. Elizabeth is huddled in the corner, her eyes wide with terror, staring at the broken window. A dark figure is retreating into the night, disappearing into the shadows before either of you can get a good look at them.

Bucky’s entire body goes rigid, his metal arm clenching instinctively. You see the shift in him—the moment his protective instincts take over. His jaw tightens as he looks at you, his expression hardening.

“Stay here,” he demands, his voice sharp, commanding. “Call Steve.”

You nod quickly, fear coiling in your stomach. You pull out your phone, dialing Steve’s number with trembling hands. As you wait for the call to connect, you look down at Elizabeth, her small form trembling in your arms. You whisper soothing words, but your own heart is racing, your thoughts scrambling to keep up with what just happened. You move with Elizabeth out of the guest room and into the living room, sitting on the couch with her curled up in your lap.

“Shh, you’re safe,” you whisper softly, holding her tightly. “Bucky’s going to handle it. It’s going to be okay.”

Elizabeth doesn’t say anything, but she nods against you with tears streaming down her soft cheeks, the quiet terror in her face tears at you. You wish you could tell her everything’s fine, but you don’t know what’s coming next.

The phone rings once, twice, before Steve picks up. “Y/N? Everything okay? How are you?”

“Someone broke into my apartment,” you explain, your voice shaky. “Elizabeth and Bucky are here and everyone is okay, but they... they broke into my guest room window, and—Bucky’s after them.”

“Is Elizabeth alright?” Steve cuts in, his voice sharp with concern.

“She’s scared, but she’s fine, I have her with me” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “They ran off, but Bucky’s going after them. Please—hurry over. I am texting you my address.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon. Stay inside, don’t open the door for anyone else.”

You hang up, letting the phone fall beside you as you continue to hold Elizabeth. Her grip tightens around you as she presses closer, seeking comfort from the warmth of your embrace. You gently stroke her hair, murmuring soft reassurances.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetie,” you whisper again, though your own heart is far from calm. “Uncle Bucky and your dad will take care of this.”

But even as you speak the words, doubt creeps in. The broken window is a sign that things aren’t as simple as they seem. Whoever did this isn’t going to stop with a broken window. You shiver, the weight of the situation settling over you.

Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps reaches your ears. You look up to see Steve and Sam entering the apartment, their expressions grim. Without a word, they take in the situation—the broken window, the tension in the air, the terrified look on Elizabeth’s face. Steve moves toward the two of you, his eyes softening as he kneels down to Elizabeth’s level.

“Hey bub,” Steve says, offering her a warm smile despite the tension. “You doing okay?”

Elizabeth nods slowly, though her face is still pale. Steve wipes at the wetness on her cheeks, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her head.

“We’ll take it from here,” he says. “Stay with her, Y/N. We’ll figure this out.”

Sam, already on his phone, glances at you once more. “We’ll handle it. Bucky’s not alone.”

The door clicks closed behind them, leaving you and Elizabeth in the quiet aftermath. You’re left with a sinking feeling in your stomach, knowing the fight’s not over yet—and whatever just happened, it’s only the beginning.

You glance toward the guest room—the broken window still gaping, the evidence of the intruder’s presence stark against the fading daylight. It’s a reminder that this wasn’t just some random occurrence. Someone deliberately targeted your home, your safe space. Whoever they were, they were watching.

Bucky’s protective instincts kicked in the moment the glass shattered. You know he’ll do whatever it takes to protect those he cares about. But still, there's a part of you that’s scared. Scared for Elizabeth. Scared for Bucky. Scared for what might be coming next.

You shake the thoughts from your head, focusing instead on Elizabeth. You need to stay calm for her. She needs you to be strong, even if you're falling apart inside.

After what feels like an eternity, you hear the soft click of the front door, and then the unmistakable sound of Bucky’s voice calling your name.

“Y/N?”

You jump to your feet, still holding Elizabeth tightly in your arms. She stirs at the sound of his voice, lifting her head to look around. You meet Bucky’s eyes as he enters the room, his face drawn with concern. His clothes are slightly rumpled, his expression more exhausted than angry, but you can see the relief in his eyes as he looks at you and Elizabeth.

“Is she okay?” he asks, his voice soft but laced with tension.

You nod, holding Elizabeth a little tighter. “She’s shaken, but she’s alright. You... you found them?”

Bucky exhales slowly, his gaze flicking briefly toward the broken window showing through the guest room door frame. His body language is guarded, but there’s a faint flicker of frustration in his eyes. “Yeah. They were long gone by the time I got out there. But I... I think they were watching. They knew exactly where to hit.”

You can hear the unease in his voice, the weight of his words sinking in. It wasn’t a random break-in. Whoever did this had a purpose.

Elizabeth shifts in your arms, her eyes flicking between the two of you. “Uncle Bucky,” she says quietly, her voice small, “is it... is it safe now?”

Bucky kneels in front of her, his metal hand resting gently on her shoulder. His expression softens as he meets her eyes. “Yeah, bee,” he says, his voice soothing. “It’s safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Elizabeth nods, but her face is still pale, her lips trembling just slightly. You can tell she’s trying to be brave, but the fear is still there, lurking beneath the surface.

“Let’s get going. We’ll stay at Steve’s for the night. It’s the safest place right now.” Bucky responds. “Pack anything you need but do it fast.”

You nod, handing him Elizabeth as you rush to pack a bag, grabbing the essentials and closing the guest room door, not wanting to look at the damage right now.

“Let’s go,” you say, voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

Bucky nods, he doesn’t look back as he ushers you both toward the door.

The drive to Steve’s house is a blur. The car is filled with an eerie silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. Elizabeth has her head resting against your shoulder as you sit beside her in the back seat, not wanting to leave her alone, her small body still trembling as she tries to hold it together. Every so often, you feel her fingers tighten around your hand, as if reminding herself you’re there, that she’s not alone.

Bucky drives with tense precision, his eyes scanning the rearview mirror every few seconds, always alert, always on edge. The streets blur as he takes you through the city, toward the familiarity of Steve’s home.

When you finally pull up to Steve’s house, the security gates open almost immediately, and you’re ushered inside with a sense of relief, as though the weight of the world has been momentarily lifted off your shoulders. Bucky parks the car in the garage, and you help Elizabeth out, her small hand still clutching yours.

Inside, the house feels different from the night of the Friendsgiving. Steve is waiting in the foyer when you enter, his face lighting up when he sees Elizabeth. His usual warmth is tempered with concern, though, his eyes flicking over to Bucky for confirmation.

“You’re safe now.” Steve reassures, his voice low, eyes darting to Elizabeth’s tight grip on your hand.

You nod quickly, trying to keep your composure. “Thank you, for letting me stay over.”

“Of course. A friend of Bucky’s is now a friend of ours.” Steve gives you a small smile, trying to ease the night.

Steve crouches down to Elizabeth’s level, opening his arms for her to fall into. She immediately wraps her arms around his neck. “Daddy’s got you. Let’s get you ready for bed bub.”

“Oh, my darling,” You all glance up at Peggy’s voice. She appears at the top of the stairs as Steve carries Elizabeth up to her room.

You watch in silence as the family reunite, coddling their daughter, making her feel safe.

Bucky’s gaze softens at you, eyes meeting yours across the foyer. He doesn’t need to ask. It’s written on your face—the exhaustion, the concern, the fear still lurking beneath your calm exterior.

Bucky’s steps are quiet as he approaches, his expression steady but filled with empathy. "You’re safe here," he promises, grabbing your hand, squeezing it softly. "Take a breath. Let me make you a drink."

You nod, grateful for the offer but too tired to speak. You follow behind as he leads the way towards the kitchen. The sound of the fridge opening and the soft clink of glass are the only sounds that fill the space, an unfamiliar comfort in the quiet after the chaos.

The house feels warm and welcoming, but there’s a lingering tension in the air. The kind that stays even when everything is supposed to be alright. You can’t shake the feeling that whoever did this isn’t done. They know where you are now.

A soft cough pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to find Steve standing a few feet away, his posture rigid but there's a softness in his expression now, a layer of concern beneath the usual stoic demeanor. “You alright?” Steve asks, his voice quiet but carrying the weight of everything that’s happened tonight.

You take a deep breath, trying to find some semblance of control. "Just… processing," you say, the words coming out more rigid than you intended. "It’s just been a lot."

Steve nods, his gaze flicking over to where Bucky is gripping the counter top, his back tense facing you both.

“If you need anything… I mean, anything... you can stay here as long as you need. You are no longer just Elizabeth’s teacher. Anyone important to Bucky, is important to all of us. Bucky’s right, you’re safe. And we’re not going to let anything happen to anyone."

The words hit harder than you expect, a promise laced with sincerity and a little bit of pain—he means it, and it’s almost overwhelming to hear.

"Thank you," you whisper, barely able to keep the emotion in check. "I really appreciate everything."

As Steve turns to leave you and Bucky alone in the kitchen, you feel the weight of the situation sink back in.

Bucky sets the glass in front of you, his touch deliberate as he slides it across the counter. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’ll help.”

You don’t hesitate to take the drink, grateful for the gesture even if you’re not sure how much it will ease the tightness in your chest. The liquid is warm and slightly burns as it slides down your throat, but it doesn't take away the gnawing sense of unease.

Bucky stands beside you, his posture still tense, but there’s something softer in the way he watches you—his usual hardened exterior momentarily set aside.

"I know it's not much," he says, voice low, "but I won’t let anything happen to you. I’m sorry for bringing all this into your life. I know you didn’t ask for any of this. I guess this is why I was trying not to get too close.”

You nod slowly, the weight of his words not lost on you. Bucky’s been through his own hell, and yet, here he is—still standing guard, still offering whatever help he can. It’s comforting in its own way, but it also reminds you how much is at stake.

You take a slow, steady breath, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of your glass as you absorb Bucky’s words. “You don’t have to apologize,” you say quietly, your voice hoarse but determined. “None of this is your fault. Just because something happened in your past, it doesn’t define your present.”

Bucky doesn’t respond right away, his gaze softening, a mixture of relief and something else flickering behind his eyes.

The quiet is interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. You turn, and there’s Peggy, standing at the doorway to the kitchen. She’s dressed comfortably, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, but her eyes are sharp, a knowing look crossing her face as she observes the situation.

“Everything alright?” Peggy asks, her voice warm but carrying an undertone of concern. She glances between you and Bucky, her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in the scene.

“Yeah,” you reply quickly, though the exhaustion in your voice is impossible to hide. “Just… a long night.”

Peggy’s gaze softens immediately, her expression shifting into one of empathy. She steps fully into the kitchen, crossing the floor to stand beside you. “I’m just glad everyone is safe. Steve filled me in on the situation, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Her attention then shifts to Bucky, her eyes lingering on him for a moment before she speaks again. “There is only one guest room, but the couch is available too. Whatever you both prefer.”

Bucky’s lips twitch, the faintest hint of humor in his eyes as he responds, “I’ll take the couch, thanks.”

You glance at Bucky, a small sigh escaping you. "That's ridiculous," you say, your voice softer but firm. "You’ve done enough. We’ve already been through enough tonight. It’s okay… It’ll be easier if we’re together. I’ll feel safer, at ease, knowing you're there."

Bucky looks at you for a long moment, his jaw tightening slightly, as if weighing the offer. His expression is unreadable, but you can see the hesitation in his eyes.

Finally, he exhales, the tension easing from his shoulders as he nods. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” you affirm with a small, tired smile.

Peggy, who’s been quietly observing, smiles warmly at both of you. “Well, if you’re sure, then I’ll let you two get settled in. Have a good night. See you in the morning.”

As Peggy disappears out of the kitchen, Bucky turns to you, his gaze lingering for a moment before he steps closer. “I’ll keep you safe,” he promises again, his voice low and steady. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but this time, there’s a quiet certainty in his words.

You give him a small nod. “I know.”

Together, you make your way upstairs, the weight of the night still heavy but exhaustion taking over. Bucky leads the way into the room, his presence comforting despite the lingering shadows of fear. You can hear the soft hum of the house around you, the familiar sounds of Steve and Peggy moving a few doors down, here, in this quiet room, it feels like a moment of calm before the storm.

As Bucky takes off his jacket and shoes, you slip into the adjoined bathroom, changing into your pajamas, the soft fabric comforting against your tired skin. When you exit and glance over at Bucky, you see him standing still for a moment, his hand resting on the edge of the dresser, his posture rigid as though he's preparing himself for something.

You don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, but something about this moment feels more intimate than anything before. The thought that you’ve never seen Bucky’s metal arm, that piece of him he's always kept hidden, lingers in your mind. You watch him as he slowly pulls off his shirt, revealing the metal arm for the first time.

The sight takes you by surprise. It’s beautiful in its own way—sleek and strong—but there’s a quiet sadness in his eyes as he turns towards you, the weight of his past unmistakable.

Bucky catches your gaze, his expression tight. “I’m not… I’m not sure what you’re thinking,” he says softly, his voice steady but full of uncertainty. He reaches up, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “It’s not… it’s not who I am. But it’s all that was left after… the people who took me, who… did this.”

You don’t speak immediately, your gaze softening as you look at him, trying to convey everything you feel without words. You want to reassure him, but you're not sure how.

“It…it was blown off in battle," he continues, his voice distant, as though he’s reliving the moment. "The people who… kidnapped me—they gave me this. And they experimented on me. It’s not just the arm. But sometimes, this thing... It scares me. I don’t want you to be afraid of it, of me.”

His voice falters toward the end, and you can see the vulnerability in his eyes—vulnerability that he doesn’t let others see, but it’s here now, with you. He sits down on the bed, resting against the pillows. You crawl onto the bed beside him, feeling a pull to make him feel safe, just as he’s always made you feel.

“You don’t have to hide it from me, Bucky,” you say softly, scooting closer. “I’m not afraid of you. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Bucky exhales sharply, and for a moment, he looks away, his gaze conflicted. He sits there, motionless, before he finally looks back at you. “I’m sorry,” he mutters under his breath. “For all of this. I never meant to drag you into it.”

You feel a pang in your chest, seeing how deeply he feels this guilt. You reach out, placing your hand gently on his left arm, the cold, metal surface unfamiliar but comforting in its own way.

“You didn’t drag me into anything, Bucky,” you say, your voice steady, as you take his metal hand in yours and place it over your waist. “I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because I care about you.”

Bucky hesitates, his eyes darting from your face to his arm resting on your waist, unsure. It’s almost as if he’s afraid of pulling you closer, of touching you in a way that might break this fragile connection you’ve started to form.

But you know what you need, what you both need. You shift on the bed so that your body is pressed closer against his, and gently guide his arm to rest more over you. You close your eyes for a moment, willing him to let go of his hesitation.

“I know you won’t hurt me,” you whisper again, your voice calm, knowing what you’re asking him to do is not easy. “Please, just hold me. It’s okay.”

Bucky stares at you for a moment longer, and then, with a soft breath, he lays his arm down fully, pulling you into his chest. He wraps his left arm around you carefully, his metal hand resting against your back in a comforting, steady hold.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “You deserve better than this.”

You shake your head gently, pressing your cheek against his chest. “Stop apologizing,” you say, your voice firm but tender. “I’m here to stay, Bucky. You don’t have to carry this on your own anymore. And you won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Bucky’s breath catches slightly, and he pulls you a little closer, as though trying to make the words you’ve said real in the way he holds you. His heart beats steadily against your ear, and you can feel the weight of everything he’s been through, all the pain he carries—but it’s nothing you can’t bear.

“I’m grateful for every Friday afternoon you’ve picked Elizabeth up at school. So grateful we met each other.” you whisper, your words muffled against his chest. “For all the moments we’ve shared, no matter how small they seem. They’ve meant the world to me.”

Bucky’s heart seems to beat a little faster, his grip tightening around you, as though he’s afraid you might slip away if he doesn’t hold on just a little tighter.

Before you can say anything else, Bucky lifts your chin gently with his metal hand, his expression soft and full of longing. His lips find yours in a kiss that starts tender but deepens as the moment pulls you both in, the weight of everything you’ve just shared passing between you in a breathless, passionate kiss.

It’s a kiss full of everything—comfort, release, promises unspoken, and a bond that’s only just begun to take root.

And for the first time in a long time, you both feel a little less alone.

The morning light streams through the curtains of the guest room, casting a soft, golden hue across the room. You shift slightly in the bed, stretching as the warmth of the covers cling to your body. The quiet calm of the house is comforting, and for a moment, you almost forget about the events of the night before.

Beside you, Bucky stirs, his movements slow and deliberate as he stretches out beside you. He smiles softly, his eyes still heavy with sleep. The warmth of his body beside yours make the morning feel even more intimate, and you find yourself smiling back at him, your hearts still wrapped in the same contentment from the night before. The quiet, tender moment is enough to make you feel at home in this space, with him.

"Morning," he mutters.

"Morning," you whisper against the stillness of the room.

There’s a small pause before Bucky rolls over to look at you, his face relaxes, his expression warm. "You sleep okay?"

You nod. "Yeah, it was perfect."

Bucky smiles again, and for a moment, neither of you move, content just to stay in the quiet together. But after a while, the sounds of movement downstairs reach your ears. The familiar hum of voices, the quiet clinking of dishes, and the faint scent of breakfast began to fill the air. It’s time to get up.

Bucky let out a low grunt as he sat up, rubbing his face. "Alright, let's go see what they’re cooking up."

You both swing your legs out of bed and make your way downstairs, your footsteps soft on the wooden floor.

In the dining room, the table is set. Steve and Peggy are busy cooking breakfast, flipping pancakes and eggs, while Elizabeth sits at the table, coloring in her favorite book. Her face lights up when she sees you and Bucky enter, a wide grin spreading across her face.

"Good morning!" she beams, hopping out of her seat.

"Morning, bee," Bucky exclaims, ruffling her hair as he passes by.

Elizabeth turns to you with a hopeful look. "Can you sit beside me for breakfast?"

You smile at her, moving to take the empty seat beside her. "Of course."

Bucky takes the seat across from you two, settling in with a content sigh. Steve and Peggy appear with platters filled with eggs, pancakes and bacon before taking their seats. As everyone digs into breakfast, the conversation flows easily. Peggy shares a few stories, and Steve makes a few jokes, always quick with a smile. Elizabeth, happily eating her pancakes, chimes in every so often with thoughts on her coloring book, her enthusiasm contagious.

It was simple, quiet—a family breakfast that felt like it had been this way for years. You’re grateful for this company. It has been a long time since you’ve had “family” time like this.

After a while, Elizabeth pauses, her fork mid-air, and then gasps. She points out the window with wide eyes. "Look! Look outside!"

Everyone turns to see the soft, white snow beginning to fall, the flakes drifting gently down from the sky, coating the backyard in a blanket of white.

The room is quiet for a moment as everyone admires the sight, and then Elizabeth breaks the silence, practically bouncing in her seat. "Can we go play in the snow? Please?"

"Well, how could we say no to that?" Peggy says, smiling at Elizabeth's eager face. "Let’s all go out and play."

"Sounds like a good plan," Steve agrees, rising from the table to grab his coat.

The group moves toward the entryway, where everyone begins to gather their coats, boots, and gloves. You turn to Peggy. "Do you have anything extra I can borrow?"

"Of course," she responds, leading you to the coat rack, where she hands you a warm jacket, scarf, and gloves.

Bucky, looking over at Steve’s collection of winter gear, borrows some too.

Soon, everyone is bundled up, and with a cheer of excitement, you step outside, the fresh snow crunching beneath your boots. The cold air is sharp, but the sight of the snow-covered backyard makes everything feel magical. Elizabeth immediately runs into the yard, throwing her arms out as she twirls, her laughter bright and carefree.

Bucky follows her, offering to help her build a snowman. Together, you all work to shape the snow into the body, laughing at how much bigger the snowballs get as everyone joins in. The snowman’s arms are made of twigs, and soon a carrot is placed as his nose, with mismatched rocks for eyes.

Elizabeth then scoops up a handful of snow, and with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she tosses it toward Bucky. The snowball hit him in the chest, and Bucky grins, picking up a handful of snow in retaliation.

The snowball fight begins—lighthearted and full of laughter. Elizabeth ducks behind the snowman as Bucky tosses snowballs, narrowly missing her. Steve and Peggy, having finished making the snowman, exchange amused glances and head back inside to prepare hot chocolate for everyone.

Bucky turns to you, his face flushes from the cold, but his eyes soft and warm. He catches your gaze, his expression changing, something a little more tender in his smile.

For a moment, it feels as though everything is quiet again, just the two of you standing together in the middle of the snow, the world outside fading into the distance. Bucky takes a step closer, and your heart races a little, caught in the moment, leaning toward him just as he leans in—

But before your lips meet, a snowball hits Bucky square in the back.

Elizabeth laughs, gleefully sprinting across the yard. “Gotcha!”

Bucky grins and, without a second thought, scoops Elizabeth up, tossing her over his shoulder with ease. “Oh, you’re in for it now, bee,” he says, his voice playful.

Elizabeth squeals in delight, her arms flailing as she is carried through the snow.

You can’t help but laugh, the sound escaping before you can stifle it. There’s something about watching them—so carefree, so lighthearted—that makes your chest tighten with affection. You follow them back inside, where the warmth of the house greets you like a hug.

Steve and Peggy have set up in the living room, the fireplace crackling softly in the background, the scent of cocoa mingling with the cozy atmosphere. They look up when you walk in, Steve’s smile warm and welcoming, Peggy’s eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Hot chocolate’s ready,” Steve says, handing you a mug. “Come warm up.” Everyone takes off their winter gear.

Elizabeth takes a mug from her mom, her face pink from the cold, her grin wide and satisfied and immediately curls up next to the fireplace, wrapping herself in a blanket. You sit beside her, the warmth from the fire seeping into your skin as you sip your drink, the quiet of the evening settling in around you.

As a movie drifts on the tv, the playful energy of the snowball fight still lingering in the room, you realize how different today has felt. It’s as if the snow fall outside has swept away the weight of yesterday, leaving everything cleaner, fresher. The air feels lighter.

It’s as though, for a brief moment, everything’s exactly as it should be.

After a while, as the evening stretches into night, you hear Bucky’s voice, quieter now, as he thanks Steve and Peggy for letting you stay. "I really appreciate it," he says, his tone sincere, and you echo his gratitude.

“Yes, thank you both for everything. I can’t thank you enough for welcoming me in like you have.”

Steve stands up, pulling you into a tight hug, and Peggy follows, wrapping her arms around you as well. “Anytime,” Steve says, pulling back to give you a knowing look. “If anything ever happens like that again, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Same goes for me,” Peggy adds, her voice warm and reassuring. “Take care of yourself.”

The hug from both of them feels like a shield—comforting. You pull away slowly, smiling up at them, but it’s Elizabeth who steals the moment next.

You crouch down in front of her, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ll see you on Monday,” you say softly.

Elizabeth’s small arms wrap around your neck, pulling you into an unexpected hug. “I love you, Miss Y/L/N,” she says, her voice filled with such sincerity that it catches you off guard. “Thanks for saving me.”

You freeze, the words a punch to the chest. You’ve had kids tell you they love you before, but this feels different—more genuine, more heartfelt. You hold her close, letting the emotion surge through you, grateful for her innocence.

“I love you too, Elizabeth,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. “I’m happy to be here for you. Always.”

Elizabeth’s eyes shine brightly as she tightens her arms around you one more time. Her simple, unguarded affection warms you in a way you hadn’t expected. She’s been a light in your life without even knowing it.

As you stand up, Bucky catches your eyes. His expression is softer than usual, something in his gaze that says more than words could. He gives you a small nod, a silent acknowledgment. Bucky says his goodbye to Elizabeth, her hug even tighter around him.

"Ready to head out?" Bucky asks, stepping toward you.

You nod, your heart full, taking one last look around the room before following him to the door. The warmth from the house still lingers as you walk out into the night, but with Bucky by your side.

Once you’re in the car, Bucky turns to you. “Ready to get some rest?” His voice is low, like he’s making sure you’re okay, like he’s already looking out for you.

"I can’t go back there, Bucky," you say quietly, the words coming out before you can stop them.

He glances at you, his face softening. "I know. You’re coming home with me. You’re not going back until we can get that window fixed and me and Sam find out more about the intruder." His voice is firm, but with a gentleness to his words.

You don’t protest. You trust Bucky more than anyone. Without another word, you let the quiet of the drive settle over you as the snow continues to build outside.

As you arrive at Bucky’s apartment, he’s quick to grab your bags from the backseat. You realize this is the first time you’ve been here, and a sense of quiet anticipation lingers in the air. Bucky holds your bags in one hand and, with his other hand, gently takes yours as he leads you up a couple of flights of stairs. He unlocks the front door and holds it open, allowing you to step inside first.

The apartment is calm and cozy, the kind of place you’d expect to feel at home in. It’s smaller than you imagined, but there’s a warmth to it—soft, dim lights and the gentle hum of a heater make it feel inviting, a stark contrast to the cold outside.

“I know it’s not much,” Bucky says, closing the door behind him and locking it.

You look around and smile. “It’s nice, comfortable, and honestly, it feels very much like you.” You let out a small laugh as you notice a pile of blankets and pillows scattered on the floor near the couch.

Bucky follows your gaze and chuckles. “Uh, I crash there sometimes. The bed can feel too soft at times.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” you reply, understanding more than he knows. “I get it.”

He nods, a slight smile tugging at his lips before heading toward the kitchen. “I’ll make us some tea,” he calls over his shoulder, the sound of running water and cabinet doors closing filling the air.

You take a seat on his small couch, glancing around, your eyes catching a litter box and a few scattered cat toys in the corner. “Do you have a cat?” you ask, curious as Bucky returns, handing you a steaming mug.

“Yeah, Alpine. She’s at Sam’s place right now. Keeps her whenever I’m away.” Bucky’s voice softens as he talks about her, his fondness clear.

“I love cats. I’ve always wanted one but never got around to it.” You smile at the thought.

“I found her in an alley when I first moved here. She keeps me grounded.”

The conversation quiets as you both sit in the comfort of his apartment, sipping tea. Your thoughts drift back to earlier that day, to the warmth of family and the joy you hadn’t realized you missed until you saw it again. A lump forms in your throat, and your heart aches, the tenderness of the moment catching you off guard.

Bucky watches you closely, sensing the shift in your mood. “Hey, you okay?” He sets his mug down, turning to face you fully, his hands gently cradling your face. The care in his touch is unmistakable, and it sends a quiet comfort through you.

You hesitate for a moment. You’ve been holding this back for so long, the weight of it all pressing down on you. “I don’t know,” you whisper, voice shaking. “I’ve been running from it for so long.”

Bucky doesn’t rush you, only nods, waiting patiently for you to speak when you’re ready.

Taking a steadying breath, you grab your bag from beside the couch, pulling out your wallet and carefully removing a folded picture. For a moment, you hold it, your gaze lingering on the photo, the memories flooding back. Then, you hand it to Bucky, your fingers trembling slightly.

The photo is a few years old now, but it feels as fresh as yesterday. It shows you with your sister and your two young nephews, standing in front of your childhood home. Your sister smiles, with her arms around the boys, their laughter frozen in time. You can almost hear the sound of their joy in the background, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed.

"I—" You swallow, the words thick in your throat. "A few years ago, we were driving to my dad’s on a snow day from school. We were going to have an early dinner. Nothing big, just a little family gathering." You pause, your chest tightens. "Another car lost control on the opposite side of the road. We didn’t see it coming. The other car slid into us. My sister, she—she died on impact."

Tears begin to slip down your cheeks, your voice barely above a whisper as the pain resurfaces, raw and unbearable. "My nephews, they were only five and seven. They were taken to the hospital, but they didn’t survive. They died hours later."

You grip the photo tightly, the edges worn from years of handling it, your heart breaking once more.

"And me…" You continue, your voice cracking. "I was the only one who made it. I had to have several surgeries, months of recovery. I healed physically, but mentally… that’s still a work in progress. I miss them every day. They were my family, and I—I don’t know how to keep going without them. It’s changed everything, Bucky. It’s changed me."

Bucky’s hand, which had been resting on the couch, moves to gently hold yours. His grip is steady, reassuring, and there’s an understanding in his eyes—an unspoken recognition of the pain you’re carrying. His voice is low, filled with empathy.

“You’re not alone,” he says softly. “I get it. I know what it’s like to lose pieces of yourself in ways you never think you’ll recover from. But you keep going, even when you don’t think you can. You just… keep going.”

His words strike a chord deep within you, his vulnerability a mirror to your own. It’s not just the soldier in him talking—it's the man who has seen the depths of loss, who has lived through it and come out the other side.

You blink back more tears, nodding, the weight in your chest feeling a little lighter just by having him there.

Bucky’s hand tightens around yours, offering a comfort that needs no explanation. He leans back against the couch, his gaze turning inward for a moment, before he looks at you again, his expression softer now.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice small.

Bucky shakes his head, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Don’t apologize. You’ve been through hell, and it’s not easy. It’s not supposed to be.”

The two of you sit in silence for a while, neither of you rushing through the pain or pretending to have all the answers. There’s a sense of peace, of understanding, and it’s enough. For now, it’s more than enough.

Finally, Bucky shifts slightly, offering a small, almost awkward smile. “Do you want to take a shower? The first door on the right,” he adds quickly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You raise an eyebrow, teasing him. “I mean—uh, not with me, but if you want to take a shower, feel free to.” He’s clearly embarrassed, but the warmth in his voice is endearing.

You giggle at his awkwardness. “Thanks, I can definitely use one.” You lean in and kiss his cheek, the gesture soft and comforting. “You can join me if you want,” you tease with a smirk as you stand and grab your bag, heading toward the short hallway.

Bucky’s face flushes, but his eyes sparkle with a quiet amusement. “I’ll… think about it.”

Bucky sits still for a moment after your teasing remark, his gaze watches you walk into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar. He runs a hand through his hair, taking a slow breath as he seems to gather his thoughts.

“Fuck it,” He mutters to himself, pushing through his insecurities, gaining courage with each determined step he takes.

He pushes the door open softly, the sound of water filling the air as steam starts to roll out. His eyes glue to you through the textured glass door. His fist clenches in need, seeing you so vulnerable and you allowing him to see you this way, works him up more than he thought it would.

He strips off his clothes, glancing down mentally praying for his dick to not intrude this vulnerable moment but one look at you as he opens the glass door, he knows he’s done for.

Your eyes meet his, as your chest rises and falls faster as he steps in and closes in on you. Your eyes filter over his toned chest, watching the water glides down and glistens against his metal arm. Your breath catches in your throat as you peak down quickly before looking back to his eyes, the apparent smirk resting on his face.

"I can... I can wash your hair if you want," His voice is calm, but you can hear the trace of nervousness underneath.

You nod, words lost in your throat as you turn around to face the water. Bucky’s hands are careful, gentle as he pours a bit of shampoo into his palm, his fingers working it through your hair with slow, steady movements. The touch is so tender, you almost forget everything else, letting yourself relax into the sensation of his hands massaging your scalp before the hot water cascades down your back, washing away the remnants of the day.

When it’s his turn, you return the favor, taking a bottle of body wash and working it into a washcloth, reaching out to his chest first. His skin is so warm under your touch, and as you slowly move to wash his shoulders and back, you notice how he lets out a soft exhale, as though the act of being cared for, of sharing this moment, is something he didn’t realize he needed.

You both take your time, no rush, no pressure. Just the quiet intimacy of helping each other unwind, of being present in the moment together, with no expectations. His fingers brush against your arm when you rinse his body, and the gesture feels like a silent acknowledgment of how much trust you’re giving each other in this small space, how much it matters.

When you’re both clean and standing close under the cascading water, Bucky turns to face you again, his eyes searching yours for a moment. There’s a vulnerability there, but also something deeper, something more familiar now, as though the weight between you both is no longer as heavy.

You smile softly, your fingers gently tracing the edge of his jaw, and then, before either of you can second guess it, you close the distance, pressing your lips to his. It’s a soft, unhurried kiss, the water flowing over you both, warm and comforting. The kiss is more of an unspoken promise, a way to share everything that words can’t quite express.

When you pull away, you both stand there for a moment, close enough to feel each other’s breath.

Bucky finally breaks the silence with a small chuckle. “Well, that wasn’t so bad, huh?”

You laugh softly, nodding. “Not bad at all.”

He helps you rinse off the last of the soap, then reaches to turn off the water. You step out first, wrapping yourself in a towel, your hair damp and hanging loosely. Bucky follows, grabbing his own towel, and you both move toward the small bedroom, your hearts a little lighter than before.

The room is cozy and intimate, lit only by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. As you change into your pajamas, Bucky does the same, his movements quiet but sure. When you're both ready, you climb into the bed, the sheets warm against your skin. He slides in beside you, and for a long moment, neither of you speaks.

It’s not a grand gesture or a declaration of anything, just the simple act of being together. His arm drapes over your waist, pulling you close, and you rest your head on his chest. There’s no rush, no expectation.

“Goodnight doll,” he whispers into the quiet, his voice steady and calm.

“Goodnight Buck,” you reply, feeling the weight of the day finally fall away, the quiet peace of being in his presence wrapping around you like a blanket.

And for the first time in a long while, you fall asleep, knowing that tomorrow can wait, and for tonight, you’re exactly where you need to be.

Thanks for reading! Please reblog & comment <3 would love to hear how you enjoy it and feel free to send in requests!

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 2 days ago

Text

Sacrifices/ BTR Book 2: a Jhea fanfic.

Chapter 16: Valentine’s Day

February 14th, 2025 5:48PM

Liv finished adding the final touches to Rhea’s makeup, the soft glow of the light purple glitter highlighting her eyes. She smiled at the transformation, the face of her best friend illuminated with joy. Rhea sat back, admiring the work in the mirror.

“I haven’t done your makeup in so long,” Liv remarked, looking at Rhea with a proud grin.

“I missed it,” Rhea replied, her voice soft as she took in the sight of her reflection.

Liv chuckled. “Remember when I fixed your black lipstick when we got tossed out of the ring?” she asked, leaning in closer to ensure everything was perfect.

Rhea smiled, her eyes filled with nostalgia. “Yeah, you saved me. You’ve always had my back,” she said with a playful grin. “You know… if I didn’t retire, I wouldn’t have minded continuing to put you over.”

Liv stopped for a second, her eyes meeting Rhea’s through the mirror. “Rhea…” she began, her voice quiet.

Rhea turned her head slightly, meeting her best friend’s gaze. “You deserve it so much,” she said. “I love that you and Dom are dominating right now. You two have earned it.”

Liv smiled, feeling a surge of warmth in her chest. She stood up and wrapped her arms around Rhea. “I love you so much, girl,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Rhea hugged her back tightly. “I do too, times 10,” she whispered back. “Now let’s finish before Jey has an aneurysm from us lagging.”

As if on cue, Jey’s voice echoed from the doorway. “I love you, Rhea, but the limo will literally be here any minute.”

Liv shot a quick glance toward him before rolling her eyes playfully. “Alright, hold on!” she called, grabbing the final touch: a clear pink lip gloss. She applied it carefully to Rhea’s lips, making sure it was perfect.

Jey sighed, but he couldn’t hide the fondness in his voice. “Dom’s waiting on you Liv.”

Liv smirked, applying the gloss. “I know, I know, I know, I’m ready,” she said, giving Rhea one last smile. She looked up and winked. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

Suddenly, the sound of a car horn blared from outside. Jey’s eyes widened. He pulled out his phone, quickly glancing at the message from Jeremiah. “Babe. The limo’s here!”

Rhea stood, grabbing her purse and making her way to the door. “I know! I’m going!” she said, feeling the rush of excitement take over her.

She hugged Liv tightly. “Make sure Jeyce and Jaciyah are in their rooms before you two go! And check on them if you come back before us!”

Liv waved her off. “Go, go, go!” she urged with a grin. “We got it!”

Rhea took a step back and blew a kiss to both of them before heading out the door. Jey stood in the hallway, ready to usher her out the door as they both made their way toward the waiting limo. Liv quickly ran to check on the kids, a sense of responsibility kicking in.

As Rhea stepped into the limo, her heart raced with anticipation for the night ahead. She felt the weight of everything that had happened, everything that was yet to come—but for now, she was living in the moment. With Jey by her side, and the night filled with endless possibilities, she was ready to enjoy what life had in store.

The limo's soft hum and the city lights flickering outside faded into the background as Jey's attention was entirely on Rhea as the drive progressed. His eyes traced the elegant curve of her neck, the way the black leather dress molded to her body, accentuating her every movement.

It was a striking vision-Rhea, effortlessly beautiful, glowing in the dim light of the limo.

The way the fabric hugged her frame was nothing short of breathtaking, making her appear as if she belonged in a dream.

Jey's heart ached with the deep, unspoken love he had for her, something he had never imagined feeling so intensely for anyone. He admired her strength, her grace, and the quiet way she carried herself, especially now as she was navigating this new chapter of their lives-pregnant with their child. Though her belly had yet to show the signs of it, he could see how her body had subtly shifted, a reminder of the new life they were about to welcome. His eyes softened, a mixture of awe and pride swelling inside him.

Rhea shifted in her seat, sensing Jey's gaze on her. She turned to meet his eyes, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "Are you still there?" she asked softly, her voice filled with warmth, as if she knew exactly what was running through his mind.

Jey's heart skipped a beat at the sound of her voice, the playful tone grounding him in the moment. He reached out without a second thought, pulling her gently toward him, and their lips met in a slow, lingering kiss. It wasn't just a kiss—it was a conversation, a silent exchange that said everything words could never capture. In that one moment, Jey felt the depth of his emotions-how much he cherished her, how much he needed her, and how unbelievably lucky he was to share this life with her.

Pulling back slightly, he let his forehead rest against hers, his breath mingling with hers.

His voice was hushed, reverent. "I don't know how l'm so lucky to have you in my life," he confessed, his heart laid bare in those simple words. His fingers lightly brushed against her arm, tracing the soft curve of her skin. He had everything he could ever want— her love, their child on the way, and the promise of a future they would build together.

Rhea's heart swelled, her chest tightening at the tenderness in his words. It was moments like this-so raw and pure-that made her fall in love with him all over again. Her gaze softened as she smiled, eyes brimming with affection. "Joshua... I love you so much," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Every word felt like a vow, a testament to all the struggles they'd faced and the love that had blossomed between them, stronger than anything she had ever imagined.

Jey's heart pounded in his chest as she spoke, her words wrapping around him like a warm embrace. He leaned in, unable to resist the pull between them. His kiss this time was deeper, more urgent, as if he needed to remind her of the depth of his feelings-how much she meant to him, how she had transformed his life in ways he couldn't express.

As his hands roamed over her skin, the soft warmth of her body against his sent a wave of emotion rushing through him. Her skin was like butter-so soft, so delicate-and it felt as though everything inside him was awakening to the touch. He could feel the way she responded to him, her body leaning into his as they kissed, her hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. It was as though the entire world outside didn't exist anymore-there was only the two of them, wrapped up in each other, in their love.

For a moment, everything was still. Rhea's breath hitched, and her pulse quickened at the way Jey's hands caressed her, at the way he made her feel like she was the only one who mattered. She had never felt so seen, so loved, so cherished. Her heart raced with the certainty that this-right here, right now— was everything she had ever dreamed of.

She had found her person, and in his arms, she felt invincible. There was a peace between them, a quiet understanding that no matter what challenges they faced, no matter how their lives would change with the new addition they were expecting, they had each other. And that was enough.

"I love you, Joshua," she murmured, her voice a soft promise.

Jey kissed her again, this time slower, savoring the moment, knowing deep down that these moments-these quiet, tender exchanges-were the ones he would treasure forever. His hands cupped her face, as if trying to imprint the feeling of her into his very soul. "I love you more, Demi," he whispered back, his heart swelling with emotion. As the limo continued to glide through the streets, the world outside felt miles away.

The limo eventually slowed to a smooth stop in front of Table 104, a sophisticated restaurant known for its exquisite ambiance and attention to detail. The driver stepped out, rounded the vehicle, and opened the door with a slight bow. Jey exited first, offering his hand to Rhea as she stepped out gracefully. The evening breeze was cool, carrying a faint scent of salt from the nearby ocean.

Hand in hand, the couple entered the restaurant, where the soft hum of conversation and clinking glassware filled the air. A hostess greeted them warmly at the podium.

“Good evening, welcome to Table 104,” she said with a smile. “Do you have a reservation?”

Jey nodded confidently. “Yes, reservation for two under Fatu.”

The hostess spoke into her headset, her voice polite and efficient. Moments later, the restaurant manager appeared, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit. His demeanor exuded professionalism, but his smile was warm and inviting.

“Mr. and Mrs. Fatu,” the manager greeted, extending a hand toward Jey before gesturing toward Rhea, who blushed at the manager calling her Mrs. “please, follow me.”

Jey and Rhea followed him down a dimly lit hallway, their footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting. The manager opened a set of double doors, revealing a private dining room that looked like a scene from a romantic dream. Endless arrangements of flowers adorned the room, cascading over the edges of tables, lining the walls, and filling the air with their intoxicating fragrance. The centerpiece was a single round table draped in white linen, illuminated by the soft glow of a crystal chandelier overhead.

Rhea’s hand instinctively tightened around Jey’s as she took in the breathtaking display. She turned to him, her eyes shining with emotion. “It looks just like…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze swept across the room.

Jey smiled, leaning in close. “Just like in The Great Gatsby, babe,” he finished for her, his voice soft but filled with pride.

Rhea’s heart swelled as she turned toward him and kissed him gently, her hand brushing against his cheek. “You never stop amazing me, Joshua.”

The manager discreetly cleared his throat, guiding them to their table. He pulled out Rhea’s chair first, ensuring she was seated comfortably before gesturing for Jey to sit across from her. Once they were settled, he spoke with genuine care.

“Your personal server will be with you momentarily. And mam’,” he added, addressing Rhea with a smile, “your fiancé informed us of your exciting news, so we’ve taken extra precautions. All cooking utensils, pans, and oils used for your meal tonight have been meticulously prepared to avoid any cross-contamination, particularly with seafood containing mercury.”

Rhea’s expression softened with gratitude. “Thank you so much,” she said sincerely.

The manager inclined his head. “It’s our pleasure. Please enjoy your evening,” he said before leaving them in privacy.

Rhea looked across the table at Jey, her fingers tracing the edge of the fine crystal glass in front of her. “You told them about the pregnancy?” she asked, her voice filled with both surprise and admiration.

Jey shrugged modestly, though the grin on his face gave him away. “Of course I did. You and the baby come first, always.”

Rhea’s heart swelled as she leaned across the table and took his hand in hers. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Jey chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “I’m just trying to keep up with you, babe.”

—

Meanwhile, on the waterfront, Dom had his hands gently covering Liv’s eyes, guiding her carefully along the dock. The soft lapping of waves against the wooden planks filled the air, along with the distant sound of seagulls. Liv giggled nervously.

“Dom,” she said, her tone half-warning, half-laughing, “if you push me in the water, I swear I’ll—”

Before she could finish, Dom removed his hands and said with a wide grin, “Surprise.”

Liv blinked as her vision adjusted, her jaw dropping at the sight before her. Anchored at the edge of the dock was an elegant, fully lit private yacht. The sleek vessel was adorned with delicate fairy lights, and on the deck, a waiting staff stood dressed in crisp uniforms, ready to welcome them aboard. The setting sun cast a warm golden glow over the scene, and the faint sound of soft music floated through the air.

Liv turned back to Dom, her eyes wide with delight. “A private dinner on a boat?” she exclaimed, barely containing her excitement.

Dom smirked, a spark of pride glinting in his eyes. Before he could respond, Liv let out an excited squeal and launched herself into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as she peppered kisses all over his face.

“You’re the best!” she said breathlessly, pulling back just enough to beam at him. “My daddy Dom!”

Dom laughed, his hands steadying her against him. “Only the best for my girl,” he said, his voice warm and filled with affection.

Liv kissed him again, this time more deeply, before hopping back down and grabbing his hand. Her infectious smile hadn’t faded as she tugged him toward the boat, practically skipping. “Come on! Let’s get on this thing before I pass out from excitement!”

Dom chuckled, letting her pull him along. As they reached the edge of the dock, a member of the staff extended a hand to help Liv up the short gangplank. She stepped aboard the yacht with Dom following close behind, his hand never leaving hers.

The deck was set up with a single, exquisitely decorated table for two, complete with candles flickering in glass lanterns, an array of flowers, and a chilled bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. The warm ambiance was perfect, and Liv couldn’t stop taking it all in, spinning around to see every detail.

“This is…wow,” Liv said softly, her eyes sparkling as she turned to face Dom. “You really went all out, huh?”

Dom shrugged, a modest grin on his face. “You deserve it. I wanted to make tonight special for you.”

Liv stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his neck as she looked up at him with a tenderness that made his heart melt. “You make every night special, Dom,” she said, her voice filled with happiness.

Dom leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead before pulling her into a warm embrace. “Then let’s make tonight unforgettable.”

As they settled at their table, the yacht’s engine purred to life, and the boat began to glide smoothly out onto the water. The city skyline shimmered in the distance, and the stars slowly began to emerge overhead, setting the perfect stage for their evening.

—

After Rhea and Jey had left, and after Liv did her final check-in with Jaciyah and Jeyce, the house fell into a calm stillness. Jeyce waited patiently until he was sure Liv and Dom had left for their evening plans. Once the coast was clear, he quietly opened his closet and pulled out the outfit Dom and Jeremiah picked out for him.

Jeyce grinned to himself as he got dressed, his heart racing with a mixture of excitement and nerves. At twelve years old, this was the first time he had planned something like this—a secret dance with Demi.

After fixing his collar in the mirror, Jeyce grabbed his laptop and checked the time. Just as he did, an instant message from Demi popped up on the screen:

“Come over! He just left!”

Jeyce’s grin widened. He quickly glanced out his window, spotting Jeremiah doing his final patrol around the property. Timing was everything. Once Jeremiah rounded the far corner of the house, Jeyce swung his leg out the window and climbed down the trellis, his movements quiet and practiced. Landing softly on the ground, he crouched for a moment to make sure no one had heard him.

Sticking to the shadows and avoiding the security cameras, Jeyce snuck around the side of the house, careful not to alert his uncles, who were chatting animatedly near the edge of the property. He made his way to the lowest part of the perimeter gate, where he had stashed a step stool earlier that day. With a quick climb, he was over the gate and on the other side, his heart pounding with exhilaration.

As soon as he was a safe distance away from the house, Jeyce straightened his shirt, smoothed his hair, and started walking casually down the trail toward Demi’s house. Along the way, he spotted a bush of vibrant yellow roses blooming in front of a neighbor’s yard. The sight sparked an idea. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then carefully plucked one of the flowers by the stem. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something.

Flower in hand, Jeyce arrived at Demi’s house a few minutes later and knocked on her door. He tried to play it cool, but his palms were sweating, and his heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.

When the door opened, Jeyce froze. Demi stood in front of him, looking stunning in a black dress that shimmered softly under the porch light. Her hair thrown in a braid and her makeup was subtle, only some eyeliner and mascara but to Jeyce, she looked like a real-life princess.

He swallowed hard and held out the yellow rose. “Uh, this is for you,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

Demi’s eyes lit up as she took the rose with a warm smile. “Thank you, Jeyce,” she said, her voice kind and full of affection. “You look so handsome.”

Jeyce felt his face heat up. “You look… really pretty,” he managed to say, his voice emitting a small stutter.

Demi held Jeyce’s hand with a playful grin, pulling him inside her house. The warm light from the living room filled the space, giving it a cozy, intimate feel. She quickly pushed the coffee table to the side, clearing a spot for the two of them to move around. With a glance at Jeyce, she smiled and hit play on the stereo. The soft, familiar strum of “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out” by The Smiths filled the room.

Jeyce’s eyes lit up when the first few notes played, and he laughed nervously, but Demi only encouraged him with a wink.

“Ready?” she asked, her voice light with excitement.

Without waiting for an answer, she pulled Jeyce into the center of the room, their hands still clasped tightly. Instead of swaying, the two of them started to move with the beat, their bodies responding instinctively to the music. Demi laughed as she spun in a circle, pulling Jeyce along with her. He stumbled a bit but quickly found his balance, matching her energy.

“Like this!” Demi said, making exaggerated dance moves, her arms flailing in the air. Jeyce couldn’t help but laugh, his nervousness fading as he mirrored her actions, adding a few wild moves of his own. He twirled and dipped, feeling a sense of freedom that made his heart race with excitement.

They moved across the floor, laughing loudly as they danced out of sync with each other but still in tune with the rhythm of the song. Demi jumped up and down, pulling Jeyce to do the same. His laughter grew as he jumped along, completely caught up in the moment.

“You’re not bad at this!” Jeyce teased, grinning as Demi did a playful spin, her hair flying out behind her.

Demi grinned back, her eyes sparkling. “I’m a pro,” she joked, giving him a quick wink before they both broke into another round of ridiculous dancing, kicking their feet and swaying their arms with abandon.

Jeyce’s chest ached from laughing so hard. There was something freeing about this, something so simple and carefree that he couldn’t help but feel a rush of joy. It was like the whole world had disappeared, and there was just him and Demi, laughing, dancing, and having fun together.

At one point, Jeyce broke into a little slide across the floor, his arms outstretched like he was gliding on ice. Demi followed with a dramatic twirl, spinning into a series of jumps that made Jeyce laugh even harder. They were a blur of movement, their bodies working together in perfect chaos.

The song played on, its mellow tone mixing with their wild energy. They were dancing without a care, the music wrapping around them like a thread that bound them together in the moment. Jeyce never wanted it to end. It felt like they were the only two people in the world, and for a moment, nothing else mattered but their laughter and the fun they were having.

Demi caught her breath, her arms still moving to the beat as she looked at Jeyce. “You’re not so bad yourself!” she said between laughs.

Jeyce flashed her a grin, his face flushed but his spirit high. “I think I’m getting the hang of it!” he said, doing a goofy little dance move that made them both giggle uncontrollably.

And in that moment, dancing with Demi, everything felt just right.

—

As Jey and Rhea finished the last bite of their dinner, the server returned with a tray holding a delicate dessert, a small smile on their face. “Monsieur and Madame,” the server announced, “I present you our award-winning cannoli. Enjoy.”

Rhea’s eyes lit up as she took the first bite, savoring the rich sweetness of the filling and the delicate crunch of the shell. “This is amazing,” she said, her voice full of appreciation.

Jey took a bite as well, wiping a small amount of powdered sugar from his hands. “We’re definitely learning how to make these,” he said with a grin. “These are too good to not be in our kitchen.”

They both continued to savor the cannoli, exchanging playful glances between bites, both wrapped up in the intimacy of the moment. The dessert, just like the dinner, had been nothing short of perfect, and it was only made better by the soft ambiance of the private room around them.

As they finished the dessert, the door to their room opened once again, and the manager walked in, leading a woman with an elegant harp. The woman gently set the harp down and adjusted her music stand. The manager turned to Jey with a smile. “Mr. Fatu, your request is here,” he said.

Jey nodded in appreciation, smiling as he stood up from his seat. “Thank you,” he said softly.

He then looked at Rhea, his eyes full of love and a touch of mischief. “Join me in creating another memory?” he asked, his voice low and inviting.

Rhea’s heart fluttered as she gazed at him, then at the harpist, who had begun to play a soft, melodic tune. She smiled and nodded, feeling her pulse quicken in anticipation.

Jey extended his hand to her, and she took it without hesitation. They stepped into the center of the room, their movements fluid and synchronized, as if they had been dancing to this song for years.

The enchanting melody of "Young and Beautiful" by Lana Del Rey began to fill the space, and Rhea's heart skipped a beat. This was their song, the one that had come to symbolize so many moments between them.

As they began to sway together, Rhea rested her head against Jey’s chest, her eyes closing as she let the music wrap around them. The gentle strums of the harp were like whispers between their souls, each note pulling them closer together. Jey’s hand was warm on her back, guiding her in the dance, his other hand holding hers with a tenderness that made her feel cherished.

Rhea smiled softly, her fingers lightly tracing the fabric of Jey’s shirt. She could feel the rhythm of his heart, steady and strong. They moved as one, their problems in the outside world fading until it was just them, the music, and the feeling of being completely in sync.

Jey leaned down slightly, his lips brushing against her ear. “You’re perfect, you know that?” he whispered, the words only meant for her.

Rhea couldn’t help but smile, her heart swelling with emotion. “I love you..” she murmured, the words as natural as breathing.

He smiled back, his lips brushing against her forehead as they continued to sway in the soft glow of the room, “I love you always..” the harp’s music echoing around them like a dream. This was a moment neither of them would forget, a moment of peace and connection in the middle of the chaos of their lives.

As the song came to an end, Jey pulled back slightly, his hands still on Rhea’s waist as he looked at her. He could see the joy in her eyes, the happiness that only came when they were together.

“Another perfect memory,” he said softly, his voice filled with contentment.

Rhea smiled up at him, her heart full. “Another perfect memory,” she agreed.

—

Back To The Old House by The Smiths played softly in the background, the calm melodies contrasting sharply with the tension building between Demi and Jeyce. After a two hours of dancing and talking, they had finally sat down on the couch, both feeling content but exhausted. The night had been fun, and Jeyce couldn’t help but smile as he looked at Demi.

“I really loved spending time with you tonight,” Jeyce said, his voice sincere. He didn’t know how to explain how much it meant to him. She was someone special, and tonight had felt like something out of a dream.

Demi’s smile was warm and genuine. “I loved it too,” she replied, her eyes meeting his. There was a softness to her gaze that made Jeyce’s heart flutter. They sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the comfort of each other’s presence.

They leaned in gently, almost instinctively, their faces drawing closer. It felt natural, the space between them shrinking until their lips finally met. The kiss was a soft, hesitant peck, but it lingered longer than either of them had expected. Neither of them pulled away, as if time itself had slowed down for that one perfect moment. Jeyce felt the warmth of her lips against his, and it was everything he had imagined. Demi’s hands rested on his shoulders, both of them holding on to the moment as if it were a secret that only they shared.

But before Jeyce could move his lips, a loud voice erupted, breaking the spell.

“Demetria Bartley!”

Both Jeyce and Demi jerked apart, their eyes wide in shock. Neither had heard the door open, but now there stood Mr. Bartley, fuming with anger. Demi’s face went pale, and panic rushed through her. Her heart pounded in her chest as her father walked toward them, his fury evident in his every step.

“Dad!” Demi said, her voice shaky. She tried to explain, but Mr. Bartley wasn’t listening. In an instant, he pulled Demi away from Jeyce, his grip firm and angry.

Jeyce stood up quickly, his voice trembling as he tried to defend himself. “We didn’t do anything! We were just—”

“Go to your room, now!” Mr. Bartley snapped at Demi, cutting Jeyce off with a cold tone. He didn’t wait for Demi to respond; his anger had already taken over, and he wasn’t about to let his daughter get away with what he thought was inappropriate behavior.

Demi, still in shock, looked at Jeyce with a mix of fear and apology in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something but hesitated, knowing there was nothing she could do in that moment. Reluctantly, she walked toward her room, her head down.

Jeyce felt his heart sink. This was all happening so fast. He had just shared a special moment with Demi, and now it was being torn away from him. He looked at Mr. Bartley, who was glaring at him as he turned toward the door.

“Come on,” Mr. Bartley ordered, his voice laced with anger. “I’m taking you to your parents.”

Jeyce nodded silently, his stomach twisting. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but he followed Mr. Bartley out of the house. His mind raced, his thoughts jumbled. He wished he could have stayed with Demi, but now everything had been ruined.

As they reached the car, Mr. Bartley started questioning him. “Where are your parents, anyway? Do they know you’re sneaking around in my house?”

Jeyce swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady. “No, sir. They’re out.”

Mr. Bartley huffed, clearly not satisfied with the answer. “Is there anyone at your house?”

Jeyce hesitated, then replied, “My three uncles.”

Mr. Bartley frowned at that. “Did you get their permission?”

“No, sir,” Jeyce answered, his voice showing his fear.

They drove in silence for a while, the tension thick between them. Jeyce could feel his palms sweating, anxiety gnawing at him. The house he lived in was vast and imposing, surrounded by a gated property, but it had never felt more like a prison than now. Jeyce watched as Mr. Bartley pulled up to the gate, taking in the surroundings. Despite his anger, there was a slight shift in his demeanor, as if he was momentarily impressed by the size of the estate.

“Nice house, kid,” Mr. Bartley muttered, his tone softer now but still tinged with irritation.

Jeyce’s eyes flicked toward the gate as he spotted Jeremiah walking along the edge of the property. “That’s my uncle Jeremiah,” Jeyce said, trying to stay calm and keep the conversation from escalating.

Mr. Bartley gave a brief nod but didn’t respond. The tension in the air was thick as he parked the car, and Jeyce could feel his stomach churn with unease.

As they got out of the car, Mr. Bartley’s frustration hadn’t waned. Jeremiah approached the gate and saw Jeyce. Mr. Bartley looked at Jeremiah, his tone clipped and demanding. “I want to speak to Jeyce’s father. Now.”

Jeyce’s heart raced as they walked toward the front gate. This wasn’t how he imagined his night would end. His thoughts flickered to Demi, and a part of him felt desperate to see her again, to explain everything to her father. But for now, all he could do was follow Mr. Bartley and hope that the consequences wouldn’t be as bad as he feared.

—

Jey and Rhea were lost in each other's arms, the warmth of their bodies pressing together in the back of the limo. The atmosphere between them was electric, the chemistry undeniable after a perfect night filled with laughter, romance, and memories. Their lips met once more in a heated kiss, the moment stretching out, making everything else fade into the background.

Jey deepened the kiss, his hands moving to Rhea's back, pulling her closer. It felt like the world had stopped, and all that mattered was them, locked in a perfect embrace.

“God I could feel you..” Rhea murmured as she felt Jey’s member against her. Jey broke the kiss and he pulled her to straddle him. Jey kissed her neck and Rhea moaned as he began to suck on it, attempting to leave a love mark. “Im not wearing any underwear..” Jey pulled back and he said, “You are so fucking naughty..” They kissed once more, their needs urgent, but just as Jey was about to extend the moment further, the sudden vibration of his phone broke through the haze of desire.

Jey pulled back reluctantly, looking down at his phone, and saw that it was Jeremiah calling. He let out a quiet groan, frustrated that the night was about to take a turn. Still, he managed to kiss Rhea's forehead gently before answering the call.

"Hold on, babe," Jey murmured, his voice still thick with the aftermath of their kiss. Rhea nodded, wiping her lips with a playful smile as she got off of Jey, watching him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

Jey answered the phone quickly. "Jeremiah, what's going on?"

Jeremiah's voice came through with urgency.

"Jey, it's bad. Jeyce sneaked out. He was at Demi's, and they-"

Jey's heart skipped a beat. "What happened?" he asked, his voice tight.

"He was caught kissing Demi by her dad. Now Demi's dad is demanding to speak with you," Jeremiah explained, his words tumbling out. "He's pissed, Jey. He wants you here now."

Jey took a deep breath, his mind racing.

"Alright, I'm on my way. Let him in, I'll be there in about ten minutes. Don't let Demi's dad leave."

He ended the call and leaned back into the seat, running a hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged into a confrontation, especially not after such a perfect evening with Rhea.

"What am I gonna do with this kid?" Jey muttered to himself, shaking his head in frustration. He glanced over at Rhea, who was watching him intently, a raised eyebrow signaling her curiosity.

Rhea reached over and placed a comforting hand on his leg. "You'll figure it out," she said softly, her voice calm but full of understanding. "You always do."

Jey let out a heavy sigh, his mind spinning as he thought about Jeyce. The kid was growing up too fast, and sometimes it felt like he was taking unnecessary risks. It wasn't the first time Jeyce had done something impulsive, but this-this was different.

Kissing Demi, sneaking out, getting caught by her father... things were getting complicated.

"I just don't get it," Jey said, rubbing his temples. "He's a kid, but he's—." Rhea cut Jey off by placing two fingers on Jey’s lips. “Baby.. don’t stress yourself out right now.. let’s get through the talk with Demi’s dad and we will figure out what’s next..”

"Alright, let's do it..”

After some time, the limo smoothly pulled into the driveway, the gravel crunching beneath the tires. Jey leaned forward, glancing out the window. As the vehicle came to a halt, he noticed a black Camaro parked by the gates, its sleek lines unmistakable. That has to be Demi’s dad’s car, Jey thought, his jaw tightening. He was about to walk into a tense situation, and he had no idea what to expect.

The driver opened the door for Rhea, who stepped out first, adjusting Jey’s jacket that he had took just in case, with a small smile of reassurance. Jey followed, stepping into the cool night air, scanning the surroundings. The lights from the house illuminated the driveway, and in the distance, he saw the familiar shapes of his cousins—Jeremiah, Jeremy, and Jesse—standing in the living room, their posture rigid, as if they had been waiting for him. Jey and Rhea entered the house and walked into their living room, Jey’s eyes flicked to the small figure of Jeyce sitting on the couch, head down, clearly feeling the weight of the situation. But there was someone else in the room.

A tall man, covered in tattoos, stood just behind Jeyce, his presence imposing. He had a dark look in his eyes, and his stance spoke volumes. The man took a step forward as Jey approached and extended a hand, his voice deep as he introduced himself.

“Dacre Victor Bartley,” the man said firmly, his handshake strong. “And you must be Mr. Fatu.”

Jey, looking the man over for a moment, nodded, returning the handshake with equal firmness. “You can call me Joshua,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “First, let me apologize for my son’s actions. I, nor his mom or his bonus mother, have raised him like this.”

Dacre’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. He glanced around at the room, then looked back at Jey. “I’m divorced as well,” Dacre said, his voice lowering a bit. “I was actually on a date, came home early to check on Demetria, and found them kissing on my couch.”

Jey nodded, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. He had tried his best to raise Jeyce right, but this was a situation where no amount of good intentions seemed to fix the damage.

“I’m very sorry,” Jey replied, his voice steady but regretful. “He was on punishment for fighting earlier, and he will be punished more for this. It won’t happen again.”

Dacre considered Jey’s words for a moment, his posture softening slightly. “I know,” he said, his eyes softening just a fraction. “My daughter said your boy stood up for her. I respect that. I don’t tolerate disrespect, though, and what I saw on that couch is not acceptable.”

Jey nodded in understanding. This wasn’t about the kiss so much as the respect they needed to show each other’s families. He could appreciate Dacre’s stance, but he also understood his own son had crossed a line.

“I’m keeping my daughter away from your boy for a bit,” Dacre continued, his voice firm but not angry. “She’s never done anything like this, and I don’t want her making these kinds of decisions again.”

Joshua took a deep breath, processing the man’s words. “That’s fine,” he said, his tone even. “I respect your decision.”

Dacre nodded once more, then looked at Jey with a more neutral expression. “I think that’s all for now,” Dacre said, his voice not quite as harsh. “We all have to make sure our kids understand the consequences of their actions.”

Jey didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence linger for a moment as he glanced at his son, still sitting on the couch with his head down. The weight of the moment was heavy, but Jey knew it wasn’t over yet. There was still more to be done, lessons to be learned on both sides. He turned back to Dacre.

“I’ll take care of it,” Jey said, his voice carrying an air of finality. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

Dacre gave a short nod and, after a moment of eye contact, turned to leave. He gave a curt glance to Jeyce before walking out the door, heading to his car without another word.

Jey stood there for a moment, processing everything. His jaw clenched, and he let out a quiet sigh before he turned to his brothers. They didn’t need to say anything—he could see the concern in their eyes, feel the tension in the room.

He looked at Jeyce. “Come on,” he said softly, his tone firm yet fatherly. “Let’s talk.”

25 notes · View notes

ganggangscenarios · 21 hours ago

Text

Unspoken Truths

Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance

You kicked off your shoes, leaving them haphazardly by the door, far from the neat row of others. The sound of Namjoon calling your name drifted past you, ignored. Your feet carried you straight to the bedroom, purpose sharpening your every movement.

Behind you, Namjoon fumbled. His shoes hit the floor with a dull thud as he rushed after you, sliding awkwardly across the polished wood. When he finally caught up, he was met with a fleeting glimpse of your hair whipping behind you—and the resounding slam of the bathroom door in his face.

“Seriously?” he muttered under his breath, rubbing his temple before letting out a long sigh. He sank onto the edge of the bed, the mattress creaking softly beneath him.

Inside the bathroom, your hands moved with practiced frustration. The cabinet door rattled open, and you yanked out the makeup wipes. A small, bitter part of you noted how thoughtful it was of Namjoon to keep your essentials stocked in his apartment. It was his way of asking you to stay over without actually asking you to move in. A silent compromise, just like so many others.

The cabinet slammed shut with a force that startled even you. You glared at your reflection, the harsh bathroom light exposing every smudge, every flaw. All the effort you’d put into getting ready for tonight—the hours spent perfecting your makeup, curling your hair, choosing a dress that made you feel beautiful—it all felt like a colossal waste.

The evening played on repeat in your mind, each scene tightening the knot in your chest. Namjoon had spent the whole night working the room, charming everyone in sight. You usually loved that about him—his ability to light up a space with his smile, his laugh. But tonight, his warmth had felt like a dagger.

And then there was her. That idol, with her flawless skin and designer dress, gliding into your space like she owned it. She’d greeted you politely enough, but her attention snapped back to Namjoon almost immediately. Her request seemed innocent—just a quick reminder for him to check the audio file she’d sent earlier. But when he pulled out his phone to scroll through their messages, you saw more than you were prepared for.

Endless texts. Voice notes. Shared pictures. The kind of interaction that used to define your own relationship before his schedule consumed him. But now? You were lucky if he sent you a single goodnight message, let alone an ongoing conversation.

You’d told yourself time and time again to be understanding. That dating someone like Namjoon meant accepting his chaotic life: the constant travel, the late-night calls, the endless demands of his career. And you had. But the realization that he could find the time for her—while leaving your texts unread for days—cut deeper than you’d expected.

Your hand trembled as you wiped your face, smearing mascara onto the cotton pad. Tears blurred your vision, but you refused to let them fall. Not yet. You scrubbed harder, as if erasing the makeup could somehow erase the weight in your chest.

In the bedroom, Namjoon sat quietly, his mind spinning. He prided himself on his emotional intelligence, his ability to read the people he cared about. But tonight, watching you grow quieter with each passing moment, he realized he’d missed something important. The warmth he’d always relied on in your eyes had vanished, replaced by a steely distance he didn’t know how to bridge.

“Y/N,” he called softly, his voice barely carrying through the door.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you stared at your reflection. Your hair clung to your damp face, your cheeks streaked with tear tracks you hadn’t noticed forming. You looked nothing like the woman who’d walked into the restaurant hours earlier. And as much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t help comparing yourself to her—her poise, her polished beauty. No wonder Namjoon had time for her.

For the first time, you allowed the thought to creep in: Was I ever enough for him?

You felt amazing getting ready. Every swipe of lipstick, every curl in your hair, every detail of your outfit made you feel radiant, untouchable. When you saw Namjoon at the start of the evening, his eyes lighting up as he pulled you into a hug, you felt like the most beautiful woman in the world.

But now? That confidence was gone, stripped away and replaced with an ache so raw it made your chest feel hollow. Your dress, which had once hugged you like a second skin, now felt suffocating. Your hair, carefully styled hours ago, seemed lifeless, greasy even. Tears spilled freely, sobs escaping your throat in uneven bursts.

Your cries carried through the bathroom door, and Namjoon was on his feet in an instant. He pressed himself against the door, desperation in his voice.

“Y/N, please. Please talk to me,” he begged. His tone was soft but urgent, the kind of voice that usually melted your defenses. “I’m sorry if I upset you. Whatever I did, just... let me make it right.”

The sound of his voice only made you cry harder. Why did he have to be so tender, so him? Other men might have dismissed you, waved you off, or left you to your anger. Not Namjoon. He was always there, trying to fix things. But this time, his care felt like a cruel irony.

“Open the door,” he said again, quieter this time, almost pleading. “I don’t want to be the reason you’re crying. Not ever.”

You clung to the sink, fingers curling against the edge so tightly your knuckles ached. For a fleeting moment, you thought about telling him to leave. To let you sort through your emotions alone. But as much as his presence hurt, it was also the only thing grounding you.

“The door is open,” you croaked, voice barely audible over your sobs.

Namjoon didn’t hesitate. The door swung open, and he crossed the small space in seconds, wrapping you in his arms. His shirt soaked up your tears, but he didn’t seem to care. He held you firmly, swaying slightly as if to rock your pain away.

He pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears streaming down your cheeks. His eyes met yours, full of concern, love, and something that almost looked like fear.

“Don’t cry, my love,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re too precious to cry like this.”

For a moment, you let yourself sink into him. His warmth, his familiar scent, the way his arms made you feel like the world couldn’t touch you—it was everything you needed. But then the doubts came flooding back, drowning the comfort in their wake. Did he hold her like this? Did he whisper those words to her, too?

The thought made your stomach churn. You pushed him away, ignoring the look of confusion that flashed across his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice tinged with panic as you stormed out of the bathroom.

You didn’t answer. Your eyes darted around the bedroom, searching. The bed? Nothing. The armchair? Empty. You moved to the closet, rifling through his belongings with frantic energy. Namjoon followed, hovering by the door.

“What are you looking for?” he asked, running a hand over his cropped hair.

You brushed past him without a word, heading straight for the living room. His jacket lay on the couch, and you grabbed it, your hand diving into the pocket. Your fingers wrapped around his phone, and you pulled it out, holding it up like it was evidence in a trial.

“Y/N, what are you—”

You unlocked the device and opened the messaging app. A lock screen greeted you. Your heart pounded as you entered the first passcode. Incorrect. You tried another. Incorrect again.

One more attempt.

You turned the phone toward him, your hand shaking. “Unlock it.”

Namjoon’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t place—guilt, panic, hesitation. His hand rose to scratch the back of his neck, and you noticed the slight flush creeping up his ears.

“Namjoon,” you said, your voice low and trembling with barely restrained fury. “If you don’t unlock this phone right now, we are done. Do you hear me? Done.”

His lips parted, but no words came. He didn’t reach for the phone. He didn’t even move.

You felt like the ground was shifting beneath you. The weight of his silence crushed you, and your voice broke as you whispered, “You’re cheating on me.”

Namjoon’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “No,” he said, shaking his head so hard you thought he might get dizzy. “No, no, no. Y/N, I would never—”

The phone buzzed in your hand, cutting him off. Your gaze dropped to the screen.

카리나 Did you do it yet?

Your blood ran cold. Karina. The idol you’d seen him talking to tonight. The one who’d been the subject of dating rumors. You’d dismissed them before because you trusted him—because you were his girlfriend. But now? Now she was messaging him, asking if he’d “done it yet.”

“What is this?” you demanded, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “Are you waiting for me to leave so you can be with her? Is that it?”

Namjoon’s jaw dropped, but he didn’t answer immediately. He looked torn, like he was trying to find the right words but couldn’t. Finally, he sighed and held out his hand.

“Y/N, please. Just let me explain. Give me the phone.”

Your grip tightened. “Why? So you can delete the evidence?”

“No! Just—please.” His voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw the same desperation you felt mirrored in his eyes. “I swear, it’s not what you think.”

Reluctantly, you handed the phone over. He unlocked it in one swift motion, opened the chat, and passed it back to you.

The messages on the screen made your breath catch.

Your heart drops. That’s it. Karina. The idol he’s been linked to in those persistent dating rumors. You used to brush it off—because you were his girlfriend. The one he held, kissed, and whispered sweet nothings to. The one he promised his love. But now, she was messaging him. Asking if he’d "done it yet." Broken up with you, maybe? So they could finally be together? The perfect idol couple. No more hiding.

The realization ignites a fire in your chest. “Oh my God,” you hiss, voice trembling with rage. “Just do it already. End it with me. Your girlfriend is wondering if you’ve done it.” You shove the phone back into his hand, your glare sharp enough to cut through glass.

Namjoon is usually so composed, quick with his words, a master of explanation and persuasion. But now? He’s floundering. His mouth opens, then closes, his hands fidgeting nervously. Finally, he exhales sharply, running a hand over his cropped hair.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” he says firmly, locking eyes with you. “I’m definitely not cheating on you. It’s... the opposite.”

Your brows knit together in disbelief. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“Please,” he says, holding out his hand. “Can I have the phone?”

Your hesitation lasts a moment too long, your fingers clutching the device like it’s a shield. But his expression—soft, earnest, desperate—crumbles your resolve. You slam the phone into his palm, arms folding defensively across your chest.

Namjoon quickly unlocks it, his thumbs flying over the screen as he opens the chat. He taps on the most recent messages, then shifts closer to you. The phone trembles slightly as he hands it back, his eyes silently pleading with you to look.

You glance down at the screen, your breath catching as you read:

Namjoon: Do you think she’ll like it? The jeweler said he’s never made a ring like this before.

카리나: She’ll love it. Don’t worry. Have you called her? When are you gonna do it?

Namjoon: I’ve been avoiding her. I feel like as soon as I see her, I’ll propose on the spot. I want everything to be perfect. I haven’t even finished the song. 😦

카리나: That’s so sweet. She’ll love it no matter what. She loves you. You could propose with a literal Post-it note, and I’m sure she’d say yes.

Namjoon: Looool. Nothing but the best for my future wife. But the song is how I’m gonna tell the fans. I want her to feel like I’m all in.

카리나: Audio file

Namjoon: 👍

카리나: Did you do it yet?

The phone nearly slips from your hand. Your vision blurs as you re-read the messages, each word piercing through your assumptions, unraveling your anger. You glance at Namjoon, who’s standing now, pacing toward his jacket on the couch.

“If you looked in the other pocket,” he says softly, pulling out a small black velvet box, “you would’ve found this.”

Your breath catches as he walks back and lowers himself to the floor in front of you.

“I’ve been carrying this around for weeks,” he admits, opening the box to reveal the most exquisite ring you’ve ever seen. The pictures couldn’t have prepared you for the real thing—the intricate design, the way it seemed to glimmer like it held its own light.

Namjoon’s voice wavers, but his gaze is steady. “I wanted everything to be perfect. But you already are.”

The phone slips from your hand, clattering onto the couch as you press trembling fingers to your lips.

“I couldn’t imagine my life without you,” he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “When you’re not with me, I want to be with you. When you are with me, I dread the moments we’ll have to part. You’re my heart, Y/N. Before I met you, I didn’t think love like this was real. I thought it was for movies, books, songs... But those stories? They had to come from somewhere, right?”

He adjusts his position, lowering onto one knee.

When the box opens fully, the air is knocked out of your lungs. The ring is a masterpiece, but the weight of his words is what truly leaves you stunned.

“You are the only one for me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Namjoon says, his voice trembling but resolute. “I promise to never do anything as idiotic as asking another woman for advice or avoiding you to keep a surprise. I never want to be the reason you cry tears of sadness. Only tears of joy. I just want to make you as happy as you make me. And you make me so, so fucking happy.”

Your eyes brim with tears, your chest tightening with an overwhelming mix of love, relief, and disbelief.

#bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfic #namjoon smut #namjoon scenarios

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