#i’ve never been mean to someone to their face before

[stove-top96]

Wicked Game

Ch. 00

Y Batfam x GN Reader

featuring: platonic Tim Drake.

1.3k words

It’s been a hot minute. I broke my hand snowboarding, then had tests. The writing for this one is significantly better, I’m taking a creative writing class for extra credits and decided to try something new with how I formate my chapters. I’ll be posting a chapter to both my story and my concept soon. This idea has just been in my head and the story I have planned out is exciting.

Class Schedule

1st period: Art

2nd period: Maths

12:00 - 13:00: Lunch

3rd period: biology

4th period: English

3:50 Dismissal

4:00 - 6:00: Basketball practice

(Friday 5:00 -> Basketball game)

You twirl your pencil between your fingers, lazily watching as everyone else scribbles notes, following the math equation Mr. Snyder is rambling on about. It’s been ten minutes on the same question, and you’ve checked out about thirty minutes ago. Not that it’s Mr. Snyder’s fault—Gotham Prep has the best teachers. It’s just maths has never been your thing. It’s 2 weeks into the new semester and you're already falling behind. Probably not a great start.

You glance up at the clock—11:53. Ugh. Lunch can’t come soon enough. Mr. Snyder’s voice makes time drag on and on. You dash out of the classroom the moment the bell rings and head straight to Brandi’s locker.

“Girl, I’m literally gonna lose it. I can’t handle these people, they’re insane,” you spill out, frustration pouring from you. Rants like these have become more frequent.

“Tell me about it,” Brandi shoots back, her voice sharp with annoyance. “I’ve never met people so out of touch with reality. These pretentious assholes.” She grits her teeth. “How are they even real?”

You nod, walking together towards the cafeteria. Brandi continues her rant, but it’s nice—almost comforting—to know someone else feels the same way. She’s the only other Scholarship student in the grade—your only friend.

Lunch is its own endeavour. Students give weird looks as you two eat your packed food. The two of you learned very quickly that these kids were in a league of their own, and didn’t take too kindly to outsiders.

As you and Brandi talk mindless gossip, lunch flies by. biology’s next it’s your favourite. There’s nothing better than Mrs. Young’s lectures. She’s able to bring life to the lessons, and the material has a way of sticking.

Heading to class a little early you grab a seat near the back. It’s the only table without another person there. Mrs. Young tends to be late to class, so what better way to pass time than to scroll on your phone. Engrossed in TikTok a voice snaps you back into reality.

“Mind if I sit here”

Glancing up from your phone, you recognize the face almost instantly— you’d be stupid not to— Tim drake. Dark brown hair, bright blue eyes and a ‘pretty boy’ face. He’s practically the ‘it boy’ of the school, popular, friendly, and stupid rich. There’s still plenty of other open seats around the class. Probably beside people he’s better acquainted with. But he wants to sit with you? “Sure” you shrug, not like you were gonna talk to the guy.

The bell rings for the end of lunch, Mrs. Young still hasn’t shown up. The silence between you two is suffocating, even inside the room filled with mindless chatter.

“I’m Tim by the way” his introduction was meant to ease the awkwardness. He knew that you knew who he was. “y/n” you answer, praying the teacher will walk in, anything to get you out of this conversation.

”you’re on the basketball team right? You got in on an athletic scholarship?” He asked, ignoring the way you slump into your seat. “Yep” you mumble. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for students to recognize who’s on scholarship and who isn’t—especially athletes. But for him to know you're on the Basketball team 2 weeks into the school year— Kinda weird. But questioning him would mean talking to him, and you weren’t gonna engage.

Before the silence could get too awkward Mrs. Young walks in, and begins the lesson. The lymphatic system. It wasn’t your weakest subject but definitely not your strongest. Today is especially hard. Mrs. Young is unusually keen on racing through as much of the topic as possible.

You rush to write notes and keep up with the teacher but before you’ve even finished 1 sentence she’s erasing the board. Sighing in defeat, you slump back into your chair. Maybe if you just listen to the teacher you’ll be able to grasp most concepts? you’ll just scan through the textbook after practice.

Tim must’ve noticed your defeat, because a moment later he slides over his notebook. God, even his handwriting is perfect. Copying down the rest of his notes.

“thanks.” You mumble, he nods with a subtle smirk on his face.

The next 45 minutes follow the same pattern—you write down as much as, then copy the rest from Tim, and repeat.

It's only until Mrs. Young claps her hands together. The loud sound grabbed everybody’s attention “We finally get to start our first group project of the semester!” Her excitement is met with groans from the class. “because I don’t want you guys to get too comfortable I took the liberty of choosing your partners”. Your stomach drops. Not that you knew anyone here it was still obvious who would make a good partner and who wouldn’t.

As Mrs Young lists off names you don’t recognize “y/n l/n” your head perks up. “And Tim Drake”. Fuck. Your stomach twists. You really didn’t want to go with him. Sure, he’s nice enough to share his notes for sure but he’s still Tim Drake, it’d be much less drama to avoid him.

Tim didn’t even bother hiding his smirk. “The project must be a poster of any negative or positive feedback loop. Be sure to discuss details with your partners. I won’t be giving much class time, so plan accordingly”

The bell rang signaling the end of class, and you were quick to pack up and get out. The sooner you’re gone the better.

“So how do you want to do this?” Tim asked as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. “I don’t really care. you pick”

gym’s next, so you should leave as soon as you can. “Let’s work on it tomorrow after your basketball game. We can choose our topic together,” he answered.

Great, now you’re gonna have to spend your evening with the guy. “My game will probably take 2 hours,” you said. That should probably be enough to get him to back off.

“I’ll watch, I like basketball” you raise a brow. “I guess” you shrug.

The rest of the day blurred together— same mind numbing stories in English, same repetitive drills in practice. By the time it’s all over you’re already on the subway heading home. A wave of exhaustion falls over you.

Unlocking the Door to the empty apartment, you want nothing more than to crash into your bed and doom scroll for the rest of the night. Still you figure you should eat something and take a quick shower first.

Scanning the fridge and cupboards like expected there isn’t much. With a sigh you grabbed a box of cereal and poured a bowl before heading to the bathroom to shower.

The evening passed uneventfully. You weren’t expecting your mother to be back anytime soon, so it was just the quiet hum of the apartment.

A buzz from your phone snapped you back to reality.

<Unknown Number>

Hey y/n it’s Tim Brandi gave me your number for the project.

You roll your eyes. Why would Brandi do that? It's totally unlike her. Tim must’ve been persistent. Hovering over the message you debated answering or not. After a beat you typed back.

<Y/N>

Cool, I’ll see you tomorrow then.

Short and simple, Tim probably won’t send another message. With a sigh you put your phone on silent, and roll over to finally get some sleep. Once you get through this project you’ll never have to talk to him again.

little did you know the project will be the least of your worries.

[bunji-enthusiast]

thought of another request !! (Obviously platonic, love being used in a more parental manner bc yk,, found family)

so, doey is one of the few toys you managed to save and bring back home. He unfortunately has a anxiety meltdown from being outside for the first time in years and reader having to comfort him, talking to him softly and holding him in their lap while he just sobs bc it's so much at once,,

They're like "shh, it's okay, i know, love, i know.."

Idk if that would make sense for a one shot 🙏

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫

Sypnosis [Being outside for the first time in years can take a special toll on a person, especially if that someone is Doey in particular.]

Character [Doey]

Note || I believe I understand what you mean, correct me if I don’t lol.

The day had been quiet, almost too quiet. The toys, having found their way to your home after months of struggling for survival, were finally beginning to settle in. The factory was far behind them now, the haunting memories of the place slowly fading into the recesses of their minds. The Safe Haven was a place where they could breathe again, feel safe. You, having escaped the nightmarish grip of the factory, had taken it upon yourself to provide for them, to help them heal. You had promised yourself that no matter the cost, you would make sure they were never subjected to the horrors of the factory again.

But even in the safety of this new home, some wounds never healed. You watched as Doey, the plump dough creature, sat at the corner of the living room, his normally playful demeanor replaced by something more distant, more uncertain. His eyes—holes in his head, just faint shadows in the dim light—seemed lost, unfocused. He was far from the carefree toy who had led the Safe Haven group with bravery and kindness. No, this was a side of Doey you had never seen before, and it was clear that something was wrong.

You walked over to him, kneeling down so that you could meet his gaze. He flinched slightly at your approach, and you noticed the subtle trembling in his yellow and orange arms. You had seen toys face the horrors of the factory, but nothing quite like this. Doey had always been strong, calm, a beacon of hope for the others.

But today, that strength had crumbled.

"Doey," you said gently, your voice low and calm, "hey, what’s going on? Talk to me."

Doey's mouth, that simple line of dough, quivered slightly as he took a deep, shuddering breath. He could barely hold it together, his usual bubbly nature drowned under the weight of something far more sinister.

“I... I’m not sure I can do it anymore,” Doey muttered, his voice thick with emotion. It wasn’t like him to sound so fragile, but you recognized the desperation in his tone. “I’ve tried. I’ve always tried... But it feels like no matter how hard I try, I’m just going to fall apart.”

You frowned, reaching out to place a hand gently on his arm. The warmth of your touch seemed to help, though Doey flinched at first. He wasn’t used to being touched like this, not in such a vulnerable state. You could see his struggle, the fear of being broken, of losing himself to the horrors of his past.

"Hey," you said, your voice steady despite the situation, "it's okay. You're safe now. We're all safe."

"But I don’t feel safe," Doey whispered, his eyes downcast, avoiding yours. "Every time I close my eyes, I see... I see them. The factory. The screams. The things I did... the things I couldn’t stop. And now I can’t stop feeling like I’m just one bad thing away from falling apart. What if I’m just a... a toy? A toy made to be broken? What if I’m not strong enough to lead them, to keep everyone safe?"

You could feel the weight of his words, the burden he was carrying. Doey wasn’t just a toy to you. He was a friend, a confidant. His strength was a shield, not just for himself, but for all the toys in the once Safe Haven. And now that shield was cracking.

You knew that the other toys were counting on him, but even they didn’t know the full depth of the struggle he was going through. Doey was made up of the memories and personalities of three children—Kevin, Jack, and Matthew. Each piece of him brought its own light, its own shadow. And while Matthew's kindness and gentle spirit were a dominant force within him, there was also the fiery temper of Kevin, and the deep yearning for something lost within Jack. It made Doey... complicated.

"Doey, listen to me," you said softly, but firmly. "You're not alone in this. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to keep going. And we’re all here to help you. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

Doey's right arm—yellow and thick—shuddered as he reached up, his hand going to his face, his body folding in on itself as though he could hide from the world. A soft sob escaped him, and your heart ached. You had seen him lead, seen him face danger with a brave face, but this... this was something entirely different. The weight of the factory’s horrors, the responsibility of being a leader, had taken its toll.

"Doey, it's okay to feel broken," you said, your voice trembling just slightly now. "We all have our broken pieces. But that doesn’t mean you can’t still be whole. You’re not just a toy. You’re not just the past. You’re Doey. You’re the one who stood up for all of us. You showed us what it means to keep fighting. And we’re not going to let you fall now.”

Doey looked up at you, his doughy face streaked with tears—tears made of the very clay he was formed from. You could see the conflict in his eyes. The fear of what might happen next. The anger bubbling up from deep within, the fiery Kevin side of him, just waiting to lash out.

But you didn’t let him retreat. Instead, you gently cupped his face in your hands, the warmth of your palms pressing against his cool, doughy skin. “Doey, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. We’re all here.”

A long moment passed, where Doey simply breathed, shuddering in your hold, trying to steady himself. Slowly, his trembling ceased, his body slowly relaxing into your touch. There was still an undercurrent of fear within him, but you could feel him starting to regain control.

“I... I don’t know if I can lead anymore,” Doey said quietly, his voice still uncertain. “But I... I don’t want to let anyone down.”

You smiled softly, your hand brushing his long orange arm. "You don’t have to lead alone, Doey. We’re all here for each other. Here—it’s not just you. It’s all of us, together."

His yellow and orange arms hung limply at his sides for a moment before he slowly, carefully, wrapped them around you, his stubby red legs shaking beneath him. His embrace wasn’t strong, but it was filled with a sense of quiet gratitude. He was fragile, yes, but he wasn’t alone.

And that was enough. For now, it was enough. You’d be there to help him, just like he had helped so many others before.

"Thank you," Doey whispered, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "I’ll try. I’ll try to be strong. For them. For you."

And as the two of you sat there in the quiet of the room, surrounded by the other toys, you knew that, despite everything, Doey would find his way. Because sometimes, strength wasn’t about never breaking—it was about finding the courage to put the pieces back together when everything felt like it was falling apart. And you’d be there to help him do just that.

[arixella]

Caught in the Tide

╰┈➤ pairing: Ace x female! reader

a/n: hey guys ik its been a minute, Ive been doing a lot of school and extracurriculars so ive had no time to write, plus I also just got sick sooo yeah but im trying to become active again!

summary: When a casual friends-with-benefits arrangement between you and Ace deepens into something more, both of you are caught in the tide of intense desire and unexpected feelings, unsure of where it will lead.

wc: 2.9k

contains: suggestive with a lil extra spice 🌹

It had always been simple between you and Ace—no strings, no questions, no emotional attachment. You were both free spirits, wandering the seas, finding solace in the brief, fleeting moments you shared. It started one night, on the deck of the Moby Dick, where neither of you could deny the spark between you. One kiss turned into another, then another, until it became a regular occurrence—nothing serious, just physical. You'd both laugh it off afterward, acting like nothing changed. But things had begun to change, and Ace was the last to admit it.

"Hey," you said, sitting next to Ace by the rail one evening, the sun sinking beneath the horizon. You both had just come from one of those late-night rendezvous. It was always like this: you shared a quiet, intimate moment, and then moved on like it was nothing. But tonight, Ace was unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on the vast ocean.

You nudged him lightly. "You good?"

He blinked and looked at you, a small, almost apologetic smile pulling at his lips. "Yeah, just... thinking."

"About what?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ace scratched the back of his head, avoiding your gaze. "You know... nothing important."

You stared at him for a moment. The look on his face was different tonight, hesitant and distant. Something you hadn't seen before. It made you feel uneasy, like you were on the edge of something, but you couldn't tell what.

"Ace..." you started, your voice softer. "What's going on?"

He finally met your eyes, and for a brief moment, you saw it—the vulnerability in his gaze. It was almost like he was struggling with something, fighting with himself. "I don't know," he said, almost too quietly for you to hear. "Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about... us. About what this really is."

You blinked in surprise, leaning back slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Ace hesitated, scratching his jaw as though searching for the right words. "You’re not like the others. You know that, right?"

You frowned, the weight of his words sinking in. "What do you mean by that?"

Ace took a deep breath, looking down at his hands, unsure of how to express the shift in his feelings. "This... this thing between us—it was supposed to be casual, no emotions. But..." He trailed off, biting his lip. "But it's not like that for me anymore."

Your heart skipped a beat. It was one thing to hear someone admit they had feelings for you; it was another thing entirely when it was Ace.

"You don’t need to say anything," he quickly added, his voice laced with the familiar, playful tone. "I just—I’m not sure how to handle this. I’ve never been good at it." His usual cocky demeanor was slipping, and it left you speechless.

You stared at him for a moment, your mind racing. So, this was it—the moment things changed. The moment you both had been avoiding.

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, a gentle touch that made him pause. "Ace... I’m not sure how to handle it either."

He looked up at you, and this time, there was no playful smirk, no teasing remark. Just raw honesty.

"I never wanted to hurt you," he said, his voice softer than usual. "I don’t want this to complicate things between us. But... I think I’ve already made things complicated."

For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of the waves crashing against the ship, a steady reminder that the world was turning, whether or not you two were ready for it.

You took a deep breath, letting the moment stretch between you like a thread. Then you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want things to stay the same either."

Ace looked at you, his eyes searching yours for confirmation. You could see the uncertainty in his gaze, but there was something else too—a glimmer of hope.

Without saying another word, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his, feeling the warmth of his breath mix with yours. It was different this time. There was no rush, no fleeting moment. Just you and him, standing on the edge of something new.

When you pulled away, your forehead rested against his. "Maybe we’re both a little lost," you murmured.

Ace chuckled softly, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. "Maybe. But at least we're lost together."

The moment was charged, alive with unspoken words and emotions neither of you had fully acknowledged before. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Ace didn’t know what to expect, but he didn’t mind. He had no plans, no expectations. For once, it wasn’t about the next fight or the next adventure. It was about the present, about the warmth of your presence, and the realization that he wanted more of that. He wanted you.

"You know..." Ace broke the silence, his voice carrying the usual warmth but with an edge of vulnerability. "I never thought I’d get caught up like this. I’m not good with relationships. I’ve always thought it was better to keep things simple." He glanced at you, a faint smile playing on his lips. "But with you... it’s different. I can’t ignore it anymore."

You exhaled slowly, processing the depth of what he was saying. "I get it, Ace. I’ve never been good at it either. But... I think I’m starting to feel the same way."

The air between you and Ace was thick with unspoken words and raw desire. Every touch, every kiss seemed to ignite something deeper inside both of you, something that neither of you could hold back anymore. Ace’s hands were everywhere, moving over your skin with an urgency that matched your own. You were no longer just two people caught in a casual arrangement—you were two souls tangled together in a desperate need for more.

His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. "You’re driving me insane," Ace groaned, his voice low and filled with hunger. His hands slid down your body, pulling you even closer, the heat between you growing with every passing second.

You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers threading through his messy hair as you pulled him back to your lips. "I think we both are," you whispered, your lips brushing against his. "I can’t stop thinking about you."

Ace’s eyes darkened with that familiar fire, his fingers tightening around your waist as if to pull you closer still. He pulled back slightly, his breathing shallow. "Are you sure? Because I don’t think I can stop either."

His words were a challenge, and you could feel the heat rising between you, a magnetic pull that you couldn’t deny. "Then don��t," you answered, your voice barely above a whisper, but with an intensity that made his pulse quicken.

Without another word, Ace captured your lips once more, this time with a fervor that matched the storm inside him. His hands roamed over your body, taking his time as he explored every curve, every inch of your skin as though he were trying to memorize it. You didn’t stop him. You didn’t want him to.

His lips trailed down your neck again, the sensation making you shiver. "I’ve never been this close to losing control," Ace muttered, his breath hot against your skin, his fingers moving to trace the edge of your shirt. "I’ve never felt like this before... with anyone."

You could feel his hands trembling as they slid under your shirt, caressing your back, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. "Then don’t fight it," you whispered, your voice thick with desire, a challenge of your own. "Let go."

It was all the invitation he needed.

Ace’s lips found your collarbone, his mouth pressing against your skin in a series of heated kisses that made your heart race. His hands slid lower, expertly undressing you piece by piece, as if every layer of clothing was a barrier he couldn’t wait to tear down. And you welcomed it. You welcomed him.

When your shirt finally came off, Ace didn’t hesitate. His hands found your chest, his touch rough but gentle in the same breath, his eyes never leaving yours as if searching for any sign of hesitation. But you weren’t about to pull away. You wanted this. You wanted him.

He groaned low in his throat, his fingers grazing over your sensitive skin, making you arch into him, craving more. "Damn," he muttered, his lips trailing down to your chest. "You don’t know what you do to me."

You gasped as his lips found a sensitive spot just beneath your ear, his hands now roaming freely, memorizing every inch of you. "Ace..." you breathed, your voice barely a whisper as his mouth moved lower, his kisses growing hungrier, more urgent. "Please…"

Ace paused for a moment, looking up at you with an intensity that took your breath away. His hands were on your thighs now, fingers sliding up your legs, sending shivers down your spine. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly, his breath heavy with desire.

You bit your lip, trying to regain some composure, but the tension in your body was overwhelming. "You," you said simply, your hands pulling him closer, urging him on.

The moment those words left your lips, Ace’s restraint snapped. He pulled you toward him, his lips finding yours once again, this kiss fiercer than before, driven by pure, unrelenting need. There was no teasing now, no hesitations. Just the overwhelming urge to lose yourself in each other.

His hands moved swiftly, undressing you completely, and in return, you did the same, your fingers trembling as you pulled off his shirt and pants, revealing the toned body you had seen only in passing but never truly had the chance to admire up close. Now, with him inches away from you, your hands roamed over his chest, your breath catching in your throat at the feeling of his hard muscles beneath your touch.

With a growl of frustration and desire, Ace finally took control, his lips trailing down to your chest, his tongue flicking over your sensitive skin, drawing a moan from your lips. You couldn’t hold back anymore—every touch, every kiss was driving you wild, and you knew you were on the edge of losing yourself completely.

"Ace... please," you whimpered, your hands pulling at his hair, urging him on.

He responded with a hunger that matched your own, pushing you back against the railing of the ship, the cool night air suddenly feeling like a distant memory as his body pressed against yours. Every inch of your skin seemed to hum in response to his touch, your body alive with sensation.

"I need you," Ace murmured, his lips moving against your neck as his hands slid down your body, pulling your legs around his waist. "I want to feel all of you."

And as he finally slid into you, both of you gasped at the sensation—the slow, deliberate stretch, the overwhelming feeling of being connected in a way neither of you had ever felt before. It was more than just physical. It was a raw, unfiltered connection. A promise, perhaps, that nothing would ever be the same again.

As the night wore on, you and Ace gave in to each other completely, no longer fighting the attraction that had been building for so long. The waves crashed beneath you, the ship rocking in time with your bodies, as you both found your release in the most intense way.

When it was over, you lay together, breathing heavily, tangled in each other’s arms. The world seemed to stop, the weight of what had just happened settling over you both.

Ace kissed your forehead gently, his hand caressing your back as he pulled you closer. "So, now what?" he asked quietly, his voice softer, his earlier intensity still lingering in the air.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest. "I guess we’ll figure that out together."

He chuckled, his fingers gently tracing circles on your skin. "Yeah, I guess we will."

♡♡♡

© 2025 arixella | please do not plagiarize or translate any of my work without my consent.

[oh-phoenixx]

"Breath/e" - Jegulus microfic @into-the-jeggyverse - 713 words

-

Regulus knew he had to do this. He had no choice. At first, he hadn’t told him because he couldn’t believe that someone like James would want a relationship with someone like him. But now they’d been on multiple dates, and despite Regulus’s rambling about his interests, which he had been sure would deter him, James was still interested. Currently, he was trying to plan their next date. To a museum. Because Regulus had mentioned once that he wanted to go. 

James was so perfect, and Regulus knew that what he had to say would ruin everything. He should have told him after their second date, let James leave before he got attached. Though Regulus doubted it would have mattered; he had been crazy about James since he first laid eyes on him.

Regulus had asked James to come to his flat before they headed to the museum. He had almost put no effort into getting ready, not truly believing that James would still want to go on this date once he knew. And despite his lack of trying, James’s breath still hitched, his eyes still widened, at the sight of Regulus.

“Hi,” James said breathlessly.

“Hello,” Regulus mumbled, moving aside so that James could come in.

Regulus had this tiny spark of hope, buried deep within his chest, a warmth that he was trying so desperately not to cling to. As he sat down on the sofa and James’s eyes never once left him, this tiny bit of hope grew against Regulus’s will. Because James didn’t care that Regulus went on and on about the same things repeatedly, didn’t care that he wasn’t exactly attractive, didn’t care about all of Regulus’s anxiety. Maybe he wouldn’t care about this either. Regulus told himself to snap out of it. 

Regulus took a deep breath, and it felt unnatural. He had to remind himself how to breathe, how he normally sat; he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He hated to admit it, but James was currently the best thing in his life. He wanted, almost selfishly, to continue to hide this from James, to keep him to himself, to never let him out of his sight. 

James was looking at him, concern written in every line of his face. His eyebrows furrowed with beautiful worry. Regulus wanted to hold his face and smooth out every wrinkle, kiss the skin between his eyebrows, and tell him that it was okay. But it wasn’t, and so he didn’t.

“I’ve… I’ve been keeping something from you,” Regulus said, voice barely above a whisper. His hands were clenching and unclenching nervously.

“Okay,” James responded slowly. “You can tell me anything, Reg. Seriously. Nothing could make me like you any less.”

Don’t be so sure.

“I’m…trans,” Regulus told him, refusing to look at James for fear of seeing the disgust.

Since the moment they’d met, James had looked at Regulus with nothing but adoration, as though Regulus was the most beautiful person James had ever seen. It didn’t matter when Regulus met his eyes; James was always looking. It might have creeped Regulus out if he wasn’t so in love with James already.

Beside him, James let out a deep breath, almost a sigh of relief. Regulus turned, confusion taking over the anxiety for a moment.

“Thank fuck!” James near-exclaimed. “I thought you were gonna tell me you were married or something.”

Regulus was so taken aback by this that he didn’t process anything for the next few moments. Not James grabbing his hand, not James’s reassurance, none of it. James didn’t hate him. That was all that mattered. 

“You’re not mad?” Regulus checked after a while.

“I mean, I’m surprised, sure. But mad? Why would I be mad, love?” 

Regulus couldn’t stop himself from grabbing James’s face and kissing him, pouring into him every ounce of doubt, anxiety, insecurity, fear, worry; every emotion he had been keeping hidden behind the walls he’d built around himself. He wanted James to know all of it as much as he knew the better parts of Regulus. He wanted to lay bare his faults, or what he perceived as faults, and let James tell him it didn’t matter. And for the rest of their lives, they would do just that.

[bluelavendre]

Please, I'll Change, I PROMISE!

Mafia Jungkook x Reader

Y/n’s Pov

Dating someone whose life is filled with shadows, whose actions are often unpredictable, is terrifying. One minute, you’re laughing together, lost in your own bubble, and the next, you’re haunted by the possibility that this chaotic love might cost you your life. And yet, with every scar, every tear, you still find yourself clinging to the love they offer, no matter how broken or twisted it might be.

Jeon Jungkook was a mystery when I first met him. I was on a business trip in Tokyo, minding my own business at a club. I didn’t know who he was, nor did I care. His charm was magnetic—dark eyes, that dangerous aura, a smile that made my heart skip even when I knew I shouldn’t have fallen for it. He seemed just like any other guy at the club... until the night of our anniversary.

We were at a high-end restaurant in Seoul, trying to enjoy our quiet dinner. I hadn’t noticed the tension in the air, the quiet whispers and the cold stares that followed Jungkook everywhere he went. Not until it was too late.

Gunshots rang out, shattering the silence. My heart raced, my mind couldn’t process what was happening. I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder, and everything went black.

When I woke up, the sterile smell of a hospital room hit me before I even opened my eyes. Jungkook was there, sitting beside me, his face clouded with guilt and something darker.

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved with me,” he muttered under his breath, as though the words physically hurt him. He wasn’t even looking at me, his hands clenching at his sides. I didn’t respond; the words I wanted to say got stuck in my throat.

“You don’t understand, do you?” he continued, his voice strained. “I never wanted you to get hurt. I swear, I tried... but it’s not that easy. This life, this world... it’s all I know.”

I saw it in his eyes then, the truth—the weight of the choices he had made. Jungkook wasn’t just a man who got caught up in bad situations. He was the situation. The danger, the chaos, the violence—it was all tied to him, and somehow, I had been pulled into it.

That night, he swore to me he would change, that he would get out of this life. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust that the man I loved could be different. But promises are fragile things, and the promises he made never lasted long.

Three years later…

Nothing had changed. We still lived in this cycle, like two people trapped in the same nightmare, unable to wake up.

Jungkook came home late, sometimes drunk, sometimes high, sometimes not at all. There were nights I’d wait for him, my heart pounding in my chest, praying that tonight would be different, that maybe this time he’d come back unscathed. But more often than not, he didn’t.

“You’re still waiting up for me?” Jungkook asked one night, his voice raspy and filled with a hint of amusement as he stumbled into the apartment, eyes bloodshot and full of something else I couldn’t quite place. "You're too good for me, Y/n. You deserve better."

“Then why don’t you give me better?” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, the hurt creeping into my words. "You promised you would stop."

He looked at me, his gaze sharp, almost cold, yet there was something beneath the surface. Guilt. Love. Regret? "I can’t walk away from this," he said, his words harsh, but his eyes softening. "You wouldn’t understand, Y/n. I’ve been in this for too long. It’s who I am, it’s what I do."

I knew it was no use. He couldn’t escape his past—he couldn’t escape who he was. And maybe I didn’t want him to. Because in the end, no matter how many times he hurt me, I couldn’t stop loving him. Maybe that was the real curse.

Jungkook walked over, kneeling in front of me, his eyes searching mine as if trying to find something he’d lost. His hand reached up to gently touch my face, his thumb brushing over the bruise he didn’t mean to leave.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I don’t want to hurt you. I never did.”

The words felt hollow, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to. His actions spoke louder than any apology ever could.

This was our reality. The love that could kill us both, and yet we stayed. Because no matter how chaotic, how painful, the connection between us was undeniable.

The blaring alarm ripped me from the warmth of my bed. With a groggy sigh, I stretched, rubbing the sleep from my eyes before glancing to the side. There he was—Jeon Jungkook.

Even in sleep, he looked intense. His long, dark hair was messily sprawled across the pillow, his tattooed arm resting over his toned chest, rising and falling with each breath. His physique was unfairly perfect—broad shoulders, defined abs, and ink that traced his skin like a masterpiece. If only he weren’t such a walking contradiction.

With a shake of my head, I slipped out of bed and headed for the shower. The water was warm, washing away my lingering exhaustion as I mentally prepared for another long day of lectures and hospital rounds. Being a med student was no joke—balancing school, life, and a relationship with someone like Jungkook? That was a whole different challenge.

By the time I was done getting ready, I stepped out of the bedroom only to be met with the smell of bacon and eggs. Jungkook stood in the kitchen, shirtless, tattoos on full display as he moved around effortlessly, flipping bacon in the pan.

“Babe, have breakfast first,” he said, turning to me with a soft smirk. His voice was still thick with sleep, but his dark eyes held that familiar intensity.

I took the plate he handed me, smiling as I looked down at the perfectly cooked meal. “This looks really good,” I said, meeting his gaze.

He simply grinned, the corner of his lip lifting slightly before he sat down across from me. We ate together in comfortable silence, the only sounds coming from the occasional clinking of silverware. Moments like these made it easy to forget who he really was outside the walls of our apartment.

Once we finished, I gathered the plates and washed them, my mind already racing through the long day ahead. When I turned around, Jungkook was by the door, pulling on his black leather jacket and grabbing his helmet. His inked fingers ran through his messy hair before he turned to me, his expression unreadable.

“Where are you going this early, Kook?” I asked, tilting my head in confusion.

He looked at me, a glint of amusement in his eyes, and held out my helmet. “I’m giving you a ride to school.”

I blinked. “You? Giving me a ride? Since when do you—”

“Since today,” he interrupted, a smirk playing on his lips. “Now, let’s go before you’re late.”

I rolled my eyes but took the helmet anyway, following him outside. His Harley Davidson was parked near the curb, sleek and polished, the engine humming beneath his fingertips as he revved it up.

Climbing on behind him, I wrapped my arms around his torso, feeling the warmth of his skin through his jacket. As we sped through the streets, the wind whipping against my face, I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to pretend that this was normal—that we were normal.

When we finally arrived at my university, Jungkook parked by the entrance and turned to face me. His hand reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear before he leaned in, pressing a quick peck on my lips.

“See you later, babe,” he murmured, his voice husky.

I felt my face heat up as I glanced around, but no one seemed to care. Biting my lip, I nodded and slipped off the bike. “Be careful, okay?”

He smirked again, adjusting his gloves. “Always.”

With that, he rode off, disappearing into the morning traffic. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding before heading inside.

The moment I stepped into the hallway, two familiar faces rushed toward me.

“Oooh, boyfie,” Sungkyung teased, nudging my side.

I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”

Jamie, on the other hand, wasn’t as amused. She crossed her arms, giving me that knowing look. “Y/n… you know what I’m going to say.”

I sighed. “Jamie, don’t.”

“You know he’s toxic,” she pressed, lowering her voice as we walked toward class. “You have your whole future ahead of you, and he’s—”

“I know,” I cut her off, not wanting to hear it again. “But it’s not that simple.”

Jamie pursed her lips but didn’t push further. No matter how many times she tried to convince me to leave Jungkook, she never forced it—she just let me make my own choices. Even if she knew they were mistakes.

Because, deep down, I knew she was right.

But knowing something and doing something about it were two very different things.

Detaching yourself from someone who was the only person you had left was harder than people made it seem. It wasn’t just about love—it was about survival. After my grandma died, there was no one else. No family to run to, no home that felt safe. Except for him.

Jungkook.

A text message popped up on my phone, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I’ll fetch ya after school, babe. Luv u ❤️”

I stared at the message for a moment, my chest tightening. I wanted to believe him. I really did.

—

Classes ended at 7 PM.

Jamie and Sungkyung stood by the entrance with me, exchanging hesitant glances as I reassured them. “He promised, okay? I’ll be fine.”

Jamie let out a sigh. “Just... call me if anything happens.”

I nodded, waving them off as they disappeared down the hall. Then, I waited.

7:45 PM.

8:00 PM.

8:30 PM.

The streetlights flickered, casting long shadows on the pavement. My breath curled in the cold air as disappointment settled deep in my bones.

"He must’ve forgotten." The words felt bitter on my tongue, but I forced a small, humorless smile to myself before turning away.

I went home alone.

—

The apartment was dim when I walked in, the faint scent of alcohol lingering in the air. And there he was—Jungkook, sprawled on the floor, his shirt half unbuttoned, reeking of whiskey and cigarettes. His long hair was disheveled, his knuckles bruised.

I stood there for a moment, just staring. Not with anger. Not with shock. Just... exhaustion.

Without a word, I walked past him, my heart heavy but my mind numb. I did my night routine in silence, changed into my oversized hoodie, and sat at my desk to finish my homework. I didn’t even know why I was trying so hard anymore.

Jungkook didn’t even stir. Didn’t even realize I was home.

Maybe he never really did.

When I finally laid down on the bed, my body felt like lead. My mind raced, drowning in thoughts I didn’t want to acknowledge. Why am I still here? Why do I keep waiting for him? Why do I keep hoping—

The bed shifted.

Warmth.

A strong arm snaked around my waist, pulling me close. The smell of alcohol mixed with his cologne hit me before his lips brushed against the back of my neck. His voice, deep and slurred, broke through the silence.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his grip tightening around me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my throat burning. I didn’t move. Didn’t push him away.

“I tried,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. “I tried to come, baby... but I—I messed up again.” His voice cracked. “I keep messing up, don’t I?”

I felt my chest tighten painfully.

“You should leave me,” he continued, barely above a whisper. “I know I don’t deserve you. I ruin everything I touch.” His fingers curled against my hoodie, holding onto me like I was the only thing keeping him together. “But I don’t know how to let you go. You’re all I have, Y/n.”

A silent tear slipped down my cheek.

Because he was all I had too.

And that was the saddest part of it all.

The next day at school, I sat at the usual table with Jamie and Sungkyung, absentmindedly stirring my iced coffee with my straw. Last night’s events lingered in my head like a dull ache I couldn’t shake off.

Jungkook’s slurred words. His grip on my waist. The way I had silently cried myself to sleep while he held me like I was his lifeline.

“Y/n, hellooo?” Sungkyung waved a hand in front of my face, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Huh? What?” I blinked, realizing I had completely zoned out.

Sungkyung rolled her eyes playfully. “You so weren’t listening.”

Jamie sighed, nudging my arm. “We were saying—we should have a girl’s night!”

I gave a small, halfhearted smile. “That’s a nice idea…”

“Yes! Finally, you’re agreeing to something fun without us dragging you,” Sungkyung cheered.

Jamie, however, wasn’t as easily convinced. She studied me carefully, her brows furrowing. “Are you okay, Y/n?”

I hesitated. Lying felt useless—they both knew me too well.

“I just... didn’t get much sleep,” I admitted, taking a sip of my coffee. It wasn’t entirely false.

Sungkyung scoffed, crossing her arms. “Oh, I know why.”

Jamie shot her a warning glance, but it was too late.

Sungkyung leaned forward dramatically. “Let me guess—Jungkook promised to pick you up, but he never showed, so you waited, went home alone, and found him drunk?”

I flinched at how spot-on she was. My fingers gripped my cup tighter.

Jamie groaned. “Sungkyung.”

“What?! I’m just saying the truth.” She turned to me, her voice softening. “Y/n… I hate seeing you like this. You deserve so much better.”

Jamie nodded in agreement. “That’s why we need this girls’ night. No stress. No boy drama. Just us, unwinding.”

Sungkyung grinned, nudging me. “We’ll get you out of that sad, mopey mood if it’s the last thing we do.”

I let out a small chuckle despite myself. “You guys are too much.”

Jamie smirked. “And you love us for it.”

“Damn right she does,” Sungkyung said smugly. “So, it’s settled. We’re dressing up, going out, and reminding Y/n that life is fun without a tattooed, emotionally unavailable boyfriend.”

I rolled my eyes but felt a warmth spread in my chest.

Maybe, for just one night, I could pretend things were okay.

“Fine. I’m in.”

Sungkyung and Jamie cheered, high-fiving each other like they just won a battle.

I smiled—really smiled—for the first time that day.

Maybe this was exactly what I needed.

Friday night.

I zipped up my overnight bag, stuffing a few last-minute things inside before slinging it over my shoulder. The excitement for our girls' night should’ve been the only thing on my mind, but the heavy presence behind me was impossible to ignore.

Jungkook had just stepped out of the shower, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead as he towel-dried it. His tattoos were still glistening from the steam, and his silver lip ring caught the light as he spoke.

“How long are you gonna be there?” he asked, voice low.

I didn’t look at him. “I’ll be back on Sunday.”

Silence. Then, the bed creaked as he sat down, reaching for me. Strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him. His warmth was intoxicating, his scent a mix of soap and the faintest trace of whiskey from the night before.

“I’ll miss you,” he murmured against my shoulder.

I sighed, placing my hands over his for a brief moment. “I’ll be back. Don’t worry.”

Jungkook tightened his grip slightly. “I’ll fetch you on Sunday. I promise.”

I only hummed in response. Promises with Jungkook were... unpredictable.

—

The ride to Sungkyung’s place was quiet. Jungkook’s hand rested on my thigh as he drove, occasionally tapping his fingers against my skin like he wanted to say something but never did.

When we finally arrived, Sungkyung and Jamie were already waiting outside, arms crossed like two judgmental older sisters.

Jungkook barely had time to park before Sungkyung let out a low whistle. “Wow, what a rare sight. Jeon Jungkook actually following through on something?”

Jamie shot her a look before turning to me. “You good?”

I nodded, stepping off the bike as Jungkook handed me my bag. His fingers brushed mine for just a second too long.

Sungkyung leaned in, lowering her voice. “You better not mess this up for her, Jungkook.”

Jungkook only smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I said I’d fetch her, didn’t I?”

Jamie sighed, grabbing my arm. “Let’s go, before he starts making empty promises again.”

Jungkook tensed at that, but I only gave him a small nod before following my friends inside.

As we walked up to the door, Sungkyung whispered, “Okay, that was tense. We need shots. Immediately.”

I let out a breath and smiled. Maybe this weekend was exactly what I needed.

The weekend was full of laughter, inside jokes, and carefree moments with Jamie and Sungkyung. For the first time in a long while, I felt… happy. Really happy.

We danced in crowded clubs, ate overpriced desserts at cute cafés, and spent late nights in our hotel room talking about everything and nothing.

It felt normal.

It felt like a life I could’ve had.

As we lounged on the hotel bed, scrolling through pictures we took that weekend, Jamie suddenly spoke up.

“See?” she said, nudging me. “You’re happy without him.”

I stiffened. The warmth I felt earlier dulled instantly.

“Jamie, not this topic, please.” I sighed.

Jamie’s expression softened, but she didn’t back down. “Y/n… I’m just concerned for you. We are.”

Sungkyung nodded, her voice gentler than usual. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

I bit my lip, looking down at my hands. “I know.”

“Then why?” Sungkyung pressed. “Why are you still holding on?”

I exhaled shakily. “I’m just… waiting for the right moment.”

Jamie and Sungkyung exchanged glances, their worry evident.

A beat of silence passed before they pulled me into a tight hug.

“We’ll always be here for you,” they whispered.

I shut my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat.

If only they knew that letting go felt just as terrifying as staying.

—

Sunday evening.

I stood outside the café near our meeting spot, my overnight bag slung over my shoulder, waiting.

7:00 PM.

7:30 PM.

8:15 PM.

Cold air brushed against my skin as I scrolled through my phone, rereading Jungkook’s last text from Friday.

“I’ll fetch you on Sunday. I PROMISE.”

I scoffed bitterly. Of course.

Jamie’s name popped up on my screen.

Jamie: Want me to take you home?

I stared at the message for a long time before replying.

Me: No, I got it. Thanks.

Dragging my bag behind me, I hailed a cab and made my way home.

—

The apartment reeked of smoke, alcohol, and something even heavier. The sound of laughter and music pulsed through the walls.

I stepped inside, my stomach dropping at the sight before me.

Jungkook was sprawled across the couch, his long hair messy, his tattooed arm draped over a half-naked girl sitting on his lap. His lips were slightly parted, pupils blown wide as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. A mirror with white powder sat on the coffee table beside empty bottles of whiskey.

His gang members lounged around, girls draped over them like accessories, lost in their own intoxication.

It was chaotic. It was filthy.

It was everything I had been trying to ignore.

My throat tightened, but I refused to make a sound.

Jungkook’s eyes flickered lazily towards me. For a split second, his expression faltered—just for a second—before he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Ah, shit…” he muttered, rubbing his face with one hand. “I forgot, didn’t I?”

A girl whispered something in his ear, giggling as she ran her fingers down his chest. He didn’t push her away.

I clenched my fists.

I wasn’t even surprised.

I turned on my heel and walked straight to our bedroom, closing the door behind me.

I wouldn’t cry. Not this time.

I was just… tired.

So, so tired.

Author’s POV

Morning came, and Jungkook woke up with a pounding headache. His mouth was dry, his body heavy from the lingering effects of last night’s mess.

With a groggy groan, he rubbed his face, only to realize—something was off.

The bed beside him was cold.

His heart clenched as he turned his head.

No Y/n.

Panic surged through his veins. He shoved the blankets off and stumbled toward their wardrobe, yanking the doors open.

Her stuff was still there.

He let out a shaky breath, gripping his hair in frustration as flashes of last night hit him like a cruel movie reel. The powder. The drinks. The girls.

And Y/n.

Standing there. Watching him. Saying nothing, but saying everything.

The bathroom door clicked open, and he turned immediately.

Y/n stepped out, hair damp, her oversized shirt hanging loosely over her frame. But what caught Jungkook’s attention wasn’t her silence—it was her eyes.

Red. Swollen.

She had cried.

And he was the reason why.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, stepping toward her.

She didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at him.

She just walked to the closet, pulling out a fresh pair of scrubs, acting as if he wasn’t there.

The coldness cut deeper than any words.

“Y/n…” He swallowed hard, desperate now. “Please. Just talk to me.”

Nothing.

She grabbed her bag, throwing in a few things, her movements stiff—controlled, like she was forcing herself to hold it together.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, his frustration bubbling over. “Damn it, can you just say something?!”

Y/n froze.

Slowly, she turned to him, eyes finally locking onto his. And when she spoke, her voice was eerily calm.

“You want me to talk, Jungkook?” she said, tilting her head. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

Jungkook felt his chest tighten.

“Let’s talk about how you forgot about me again,” she continued, stepping closer. “Let’s talk about how I had to take a cab home alone after waiting for you like an idiot.”

His jaw clenched. “Y/n, I didn’t mean to—”

“You never mean to, Jungkook!” she snapped, voice finally breaking. “But you always do! And I keep forgiving you like a fool!”

Jungkook reached for her, but she stepped back.

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand!” She let out a bitter laugh, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I love you, Jungkook. But loving you is killing me.”

Silence.

A flicker of pain crossed his face. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to break something—not at her, never at her—but at himself. At the mess he had become.

“I’m trying,” he muttered, voice strained.

Y/n scoffed. “No, you’re not. You just say that every time you mess up so I won’t leave.”

Jungkook’s throat tightened. He couldn’t deny it.

“I keep waiting,” she whispered, voice trembling now. “Waiting for you to change. Waiting for you to put me first. But I’m always second to the drugs. To the alcohol. To this life you promised you’d leave behind.”

Jungkook inhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. “Y/n, I—”

“Save it,” she cut him off.

She was done listening.

Jungkook stood there, fists clenched at his sides. He looked at her—really looked at her.

And for the first time… he saw it.

She wasn’t just mad.

She was tired.

Defeated.

The girl who used to look at him like he was her whole world… now looked at him like he was breaking it.

Jungkook swallowed the lump in his throat, voice barely above a whisper.

“…Are you leaving?”

Y/n opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

And that hesitation—that split second of uncertainty—made his chest ache.

Because maybe she wasn’t ready to leave.

But she wasn’t sure if she could stay either.

Author’s POV

Silence hung heavy between them, thick with unsaid words and broken promises.

Then, Jungkook moved.

Before Y/n could step away, his arms wrapped around her—tight, desperate, pleading. His face buried into her shoulder as his grip trembled.

“Please,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Don’t go.”

Y/n’s breath hitched.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight the way her heart clenched. She tried to push him away, hands pressing against his chest, but he only held on tighter.

“Jungkook…” she choked out.

“Just… just let me hold you,” he begged, his voice thick with emotion. “Just for a second.”

Her resolve wavered.

He smelled like a mix of alcohol and cigarettes, but beneath it—beneath all the things she hated—was the scent of the man she once fell so deeply in love with.

She felt his body shaking. His breaths uneven. And then—

A tear fell onto her skin.

Jungkook was crying.

Her chest tightened as he slowly sank to the floor, pulling her down with him.

They sat there, tangled in each other, knees touching, foreheads pressed together as silent tears slipped down their faces.

“I’m so sorry,” Jungkook whispered, voice raw. “I don’t know how to be better, but I swear to God, I— I love you.”

Y/n sucked in a shaky breath, blinking away her own tears.

“I know,” she murmured. “But love isn’t enough anymore, Jungkook.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head as his fingers clung to the fabric of her shirt like she would disappear if he let go.

“I can’t lose you,” he croaked.

Y/n’s bottom lip quivered. “Then why do you keep pushing me away?”

Jungkook had no answer.

So he just held her.

Held her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

And for a moment, just a moment, Y/n let him.

Because no matter how much pain he caused—

Letting go still felt impossible.

Y/n’s sobs broke the silence, her body shaking as she finally let the pain consume her.

“I can’t do this anymore, Kook,” she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook stiffened. His heart clenched so painfully it felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Please don’t say that,” he sniffled, his arms tightening around her like she would slip away if he loosened his grip. “Please, baby, don’t.”

But Y/n shook her head, her tears soaking the fabric of his shirt.

“You don’t get it, do you?” she whispered, voice trembling. “I love you so much that it hurts, Jungkook. And the worst part?” She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her lips quivering. “I don’t think you’ll ever stop hurting me.”

Jungkook’s chest ached. His hands found her face, thumbs brushing against her damp cheeks.

“I’ll change,” he swore, his voice desperate. “I promise—just give me one more chance. Just one more, baby, please.”

Y/n let out a bitter laugh through her tears.

“You always do,” she murmured. “You always promise.”

Her breath hitched as she clenched her fists.

“But I end up hurting every time.”

Jungkook sucked in a sharp breath, his hands falling away.

His throat tightened, eyes burning as her words sank in like a blade to his chest.

He wanted to argue. To tell her she was wrong. That this time would be different.

But how could he?

When she was right?

Jungkook reached for her again, fingers ghosting over her wrist, but she pulled away.

And that simple movement—so small, yet so final—broke something deep inside him.

“Y/n…” his voice cracked.

But she was already standing up.

Already walking away.

And for the first time—

Jungkook felt what it was like to truly lose her.

Jungkook’s grip loosened.

For the first time, he truly felt it—the weight of his mistakes.

Y/n stood up, her legs weak beneath her, wiping at her swollen eyes. She didn’t say another word, just walked to the bed and lay down, her back turned to him.

Jungkook hesitated before following, his heart hammering in his chest.

He knelt beside the bed, his vision blurred with tears as he looked at her. The woman he loved more than anything—lying there, silent, distant.

His chest ached.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I’ll change. I swear.”

Y/n didn’t react. She just kept staring blankly at the wall, tears silently slipping from the corner of her eyes.

“I’m so tired,” she murmured.

Jungkook swallowed the lump in his throat. He reached for her hand, but she didn’t hold him back.

The room fell into suffocating silence.

Hours passed. Evening fell.

Jungkook had eventually drifted off to sleep, his arms wrapped around her leg, holding onto her like a lost child. His breaths were uneven, as if even in sleep, he was afraid.

Y/n, however, stayed awake.

Her fingers lightly combed through his long, dark hair one last time, watching how peaceful he looked—how human he looked when he wasn’t drowning in alcohol, drugs, and violence.

Carefully, she shifted, easing his head onto a pillow. Jungkook stirred but didn’t wake.

She wiped her face and stood.

Then, with quiet, deliberate movements, she packed her things.

Her hands trembled as she folded the clothes he had once helped her pick out. As she placed the small gifts he had given her into her bag. As she looked around the room—their room—one last time.

Finally, she turned back to the bed.

Jungkook’s brows were furrowed, as if he could sense something was wrong even in sleep. His fingers twitched, reaching for someone who was no longer there.

Y/n felt her throat tighten.

She stepped closer, crouching beside him.

She hesitated—just for a second—before pressing the softest kiss to his temple.

“I love you, Kook,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

A tear slipped down her cheek as she lingered, memorizing the way he looked.

Then, with a shaky breath, she turned away.

And left.

Jungkook’s POV

His hands trembled as he gripped his hair, his breaths ragged and uneven. His head pounded, but nothing—nothing—hurt more than the emptiness in his chest.

"Hyung… I messed up," he choked out, voice raw with desperation.

Kim Namjoon sat beside him on the couch, his expensive cologne mixing with the thick scent of whiskey and regret that clung to the air. He exhaled slowly, swirling the dark liquor in his glass.

Jungkook's fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"It was because of that fucking woman," he spat, venom lacing his words. His jaw tightened, rage flickering behind his glassy eyes. “The bitch that was beside me that night!”

Kim Seokjin raised a brow from across the room, adjusting the sleeve of his luxurious suit. “And whose fault was that?” he asked, though his tone was indifferent, almost amused.

Jungkook’s nails dug into his palms. “If she hadn’t fucking been there, Y/n wouldn’t have left—”

“Oh, please,” Min Yoongi scoffed from the corner, his voice lazy as he tapped a cigarette against the edge of an ashtray. “You really think she left because of that girl? You’ve been screwing up for years, Kook. She was just looking for an excuse.”

Jungkook’s head snapped up, anger flashing in his bloodshot eyes.

“I don’t fucking care why she left,” he growled. “I want her back.”

A dark chuckle filled the room.

Jung Hoseok leaned back against the bar, pouring himself another drink. “So what, you’re gonna beg? Cry at her doorstep like some lovesick idiot?” He smirked. “Come on, man. You’re Jeon Jungkook.”

Park Jimin leaned forward, setting his drink down with a clink. “What exactly do you want to do, Kook?” he asked, his voice deceptively light.

Jungkook’s fingers twitched. His heart pounded in his chest.

“I want her back,” he repeated, but this time, there was something darker in his tone.

Taehyung, who had been silent until now, finally turned from the window. His sharp eyes gleamed under the dim chandelier lights.

“And what if she doesn’t want to come back?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

Silence filled the room.

Jungkook’s lips parted, but nothing came out.

The room was filled with men who didn’t believe in no. Men who built their lives by taking what they wanted—by force, if necessary.

Namjoon leaned forward, placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

"Then make her."

The air in the room thickened, the words settling deep into Jungkook’s mind.

His heart pounded. His grip tightened.

A slow smirk ghosted across Jimin’s lips as he reached for his phone. “Say the word, Kook,” he murmured, “and we’ll bring her back to you.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily, his mind clouded with desperation and obsession.

He had already lost her once.

He wasn’t about to let it happen again.

Basement of the Jeon Estate – Private Island

"Please! I didn’t do anything!" The woman’s sobs echoed through the cold, dark basement, her voice hoarse from screaming. She was on her knees, wrists bound together, blood smeared on the side of her face.

Jungkook towered over her, his face devoid of emotion. His grip on the gun was steady, his breathing calm. He had done this a hundred times before.

Yet this time, his rage burned hotter than ever.

"You were the one who caused this," he muttered, voice low and menacing. His eyes darkened as he took a step closer.

"You slut!" he spat before pulling the trigger.

A deafening bang echoed through the basement. The woman’s body slumped to the floor, lifeless. Blood pooled beneath her, staining the concrete.

Jungkook exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he turned away from the corpse. His hand didn’t tremble. His heart didn’t race.

He felt nothing.

A slow, deliberate clap filled the room.

“Well done, son,” a deep voice spoke from behind him.

Jungkook didn’t even flinch.

Jeon Junhyuk, his father, stepped forward, pride gleaming in his sharp eyes. His suit was pristine, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back perfectly. He rested a firm hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“I’m so proud of you.” His lips curled into a smirk.

Jungkook didn’t reply. He just nodded once, slipping the gun back into his holster as they exited the dimly lit basement.

The Jeon Estate – Dining Hall

The scent of roasted meat, cigar smoke, and expensive whiskey filled the grand dining hall. Laughter erupted from the long mahogany table, surrounded by men in tailored suits—Korea’s most powerful businessmen, criminals who masked their dirty dealings behind legitimate empires.

Women in silk dresses sat on their laps, giggling, whispering sweet nothings to the men who could end lives with a single phone call.

As Jungkook and his father entered, conversations hushed momentarily before resuming.

“Ah, Jeon!” Kim Sik, Taehyung’s father, raised his glass in greeting. “Join us! Your son is becoming quite the man.”

Junhyuk chuckled, pulling out his chair at the head of the table. “That he is,” he agreed, sipping his whiskey.

A woman with dark red lipstick slinked toward Junhyuk, her hands ghosting over his shoulders. “Mr. Jeon,” she purred.

Jungkook barely paid her any attention. He sat beside his father, silent, as he stared blankly at the table.

“Son,” Junhyuk’s voice cut through the noise. “Why not have another woman? There are plenty left for you.”

Jungkook’s eyes flickered to his father’s, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand.

The other men nodded in agreement.

“Yes, Jungkook,” Kim Sik added. “Women in Ireland, Australia… anywhere you want.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw, his gaze dark and unreadable.

“I am a man who loves a woman, Father,” he said, his voice steady but laced with an edge of finality.

The table quieted slightly, eyes turning toward him in curiosity.

Jungkook exhaled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

“If I could have a family…” His voice softened for a moment. “It would only be with her.”

And for the first time in a long time, Jeon Jungkook felt something.

Regret.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, the glow of the chandelier casting sharp shadows across his face. His fingers tapped against the rim of his glass, mind lost in thoughts of her.

He had always been selfish. He had always taken what he wanted.

And right now, he wanted her back.

“So,” a deep voice interrupted his thoughts.

Jung Kyuseok, Hoseok’s father, set his glass down with a soft clink, eyeing Jungkook curiously. “What’s your plan?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe we could help.”

Jungkook exhaled sharply, a ghost of a smirk forming.

“I’ll give her time,” he murmured, voice low. “I’ll make myself worthy of her.”

Some of the men scoffed. Others chuckled.

“Worthy?” Seokjin’s father raised an amused brow. “That’s a new one. Since when does a Jeon earn something instead of taking it?”

Jungkook’s fingers stilled against the glass.

“I will take her,” he said darkly, his voice laced with something far more dangerous. He looked up, his gaze cold, predatory.

“As soon as I’m ready.”

The meaning behind his words was clear.

The table fell silent for a moment before Junhyuk chuckled, swirling his whiskey lazily.

“That’s my boy.”

4 Months After the Breakup

Y/n’s POV

I curled up on the small couch, a warm cup of tea in my hands, as the soft hum of the city outside filled the quiet space of my apartment.

My apartment.

The thought still felt foreign. This place, once just an old memory of my grandmother, had now become my safe haven. It smelled of fresh linen and vanilla candles—nothing like the suffocating scent of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke that used to cling to my clothes.

I glanced around, taking in the cozy mess of my books stacked on the coffee table, the soft knitted blanket draped over the armrest. It was far from luxury, far from the extravagant penthouse I once shared with him—but it was mine.

For months, I thought I needed him.

For months, I convinced myself that without Jeon Jungkook, I would crumble. That my world would shatter beyond repair.

But here I was. Breathing. Living. Surviving.

And then it hit me—I can really live without him.

I wasn’t broken. I was just attached.

I exhaled, a small, almost bitter smile forming on my lips. Maybe this was always meant to happen. Maybe we were never made for each other, just two souls colliding at the wrong time, mistaking chaos for love.

And maybe, just maybe, letting go was the bravest thing I ever did.

The rhythmic sound of fists slamming against the heavy bag echoed through the private gym. Jungkook's muscles tensed with each strike, sweat dripping down his sculpted frame, his breath steady but heavy. He had been here for months—isolated, disciplined, clean.

No smoking. No drinking. No drugs. No women.

Just training, rebuilding, and regaining control.

“Son, walk with me,” a deep voice broke through the silence.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. His hands moved with practiced ease as he untied the wraps around his knuckles, his calloused fingers flexing as if ready to fight the ghosts in his mind.

He followed his father out of the training hall, stepping onto the grand garden path. The moon cast a silver glow over the vast estate, the air crisp with the scent of the ocean. Flowers of every color bloomed around them, swaying gently with the wind.

“These were your mother’s favorites,” Junhyuk murmured, his gaze softening as he reached out to touch a delicate white lily.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched at the mention of her. His mother—the only person who had ever taught him love without conditions.

Junhyuk turned to face him, his expression shifting back to its usual steel.

“This fortress is yours, son,” he stated, his voice laced with finality. “Continue the legacy that your mother and I started.”

Jungkook remained silent, staring at the empire laid before him.

Power. Wealth. Control.

It was all his for the taking.

Y/n’s POV

Months passed in a blur of textbooks, late-night study sessions, and the unrelenting pressure of med school. The anxiety and sleepless nights felt endless, but every moment was worth it. And today—today—it all came to fruition.

I stood at the front of the auditorium, my cap and gown draped over my shoulders, the sea of faces blurring in front of me. My friends, Jamie and Sungkyung, stood beside me, their smiles wide and bright. We had made it.

“I can’t believe we’re actually done,” Sungkyung whispered, squeezing my arm. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“I know,” I replied, my voice cracking slightly. “It feels unreal.”

Jamie grinned, her eyes playful as always, but there was an undeniable softness to her expression. “You did it, Y/n. You actually survived.”

We all laughed, the weight of the past few years finally lifting.

As the ceremony continued, I couldn’t help but think back on everything I’d been through—the highs, the lows, and everything in between. There was a part of me that had once thought I couldn’t do it, that I wasn’t strong enough. But I was. I had proved that to myself.

Graduating wasn’t just about the degree; it was about the journey. It was about finding strength in moments of vulnerability, realizing that no matter how hard it got, I could always stand back up.

“Look at you, all grown up,” Jamie said, nudging me. “Soon, you’ll be the one saving lives.”

“Maybe,” I chuckled, but my heart swelled with pride.

Sungkyung wrapped her arms around me. “You’ve come a long way, Y/n. I’m so proud of you.”

I smiled, feeling a weight lift from my chest. For the first time in a long while, I felt truly content.

Author’s POV

Two years had passed.

Y/n had moved on, embracing the life she had built for herself. She had no time for the ghosts of the past, no time to dwell on what might have been.

She was thriving.

Working as a doctor at a private hospital, she had made a name for herself—though still considered a newbie, she carried herself with confidence. Every day was an opportunity to prove that she could stand tall on her own, no longer tied to a world of chaos and heartache.

Tonight, as the amber glow of streetlights reflected off the pavement, Y/n pulled into the parking lot of her small, cozy apartment. The engine of her modest car hummed as she cut it off, the silence of the late evening settling around her. She wasn’t driving some sleek, expensive car, but the one she had now was hers.

She stepped out, locking the car, and grabbed the grocery bags from the passenger seat. They were a mix of essentials—nothing glamorous, just the basics after a long shift. Her feet carried her toward the entrance of the building when a familiar voice called out from behind her.

“Hey, Dr. Y/L/N!”

Y/n turned to find her neighbor, Suxi, standing by her door with a friendly smile on her face.

“Hey, Suxi,” Y/n greeted her with a tired but warm smile, her eyes still holding that glimmer of kindness that never seemed to fade.

Suxi took a moment to look at Y/n, her gaze thoughtful. “Long shift, huh?” she asked, noticing the exhaustion in her eyes.

Y/n nodded, adjusting the grocery bags in her hands. “Yeah, but it’s worth it. One step closer to where I want to be.”

Suxi chuckled. “I see that. You’re always hustling. You know, you’re really something, Y/n. I admire you.”

Y/n paused for a moment, looking up at the stars overhead. “Thanks, Suxi. It hasn’t been easy, but I think it’s starting to feel like it’s all coming together.”

“Good,” Suxi said with a smile, “You deserve it.”

The exchange was simple, but there was something about the moment that made Y/n reflect. Two years had gone by, and she was stronger than she had ever been. She had rebuilt herself—piece by piece, day by day.

But somewhere, deep down, she couldn’t shake the lingering question: What about him?

Jungkook’s days had been spent in a haze of cold isolation, but he had not forgotten. Even in the silence of his private island retreat, his mind often wandered back to her.

She had moved on.

He had seen her, unknowingly, through the lens of others—his men. He wasn’t foolish enough to approach her directly. Not yet. But he needed to know. He needed to see for himself how she was living, whether she was truly gone from his life or whether some part of her still lingered.

The men were discreet, of course.

Their orders were clear:

Follow her. Watch her.

They had been tailing her for weeks now, their presence so subtle she wouldn’t even know she was being watched. Jungkook sat in the shadowed confines of a luxury car parked far enough down the street, watching her apartment from behind tinted windows. A man in a dark suit, sitting beside him, leaned forward and spoke in a low tone.

“She just left her building, sir. Heading to the grocery store.”

Jungkook nodded once, his eyes narrowing. His fingers clenched into a fist on his lap.

“Good,” he muttered. “Keep watching.”

His men followed her every move—tracking her comings and goings, making sure nothing went unnoticed. Y/n’s world, her quiet life, was being slowly cataloged. Every smile exchanged with neighbors, every simple errand completed, and every peaceful moment she thought was hers—he saw it all.

From the rearview mirror, Jungkook’s reflection stared back at him, cold and distant.

It was maddening, the way he couldn’t let go, even as she moved forward, living her life without him.

A part of him was still haunted by her absence, consumed by the idea of losing her.

“Make sure she’s safe,” he ordered quietly, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside him. “No one gets too close.”

The men nodded in silence, as they continued their watch.

Y/n’s feet echoed softly against the hallway floor as she walked toward her apartment door, the weight of the grocery bags pulling at her arms. The world around her seemed peaceful, as it always did after a long shift. Her neighbors had already retired for the night, and the usual hum of city life had quieted down.

But tonight, something felt different—like a quiet tension in the air she couldn’t quite place.

As she approached her door, she heard footsteps behind her—slow, deliberate, too steady to be a casual passerby.

Before she could react, strong arms grabbed her from behind. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she struggled against their hold, her grocery bags slipping from her grip. She spun around, but the cold steel of a gun pressed to her side froze her in place.

“Don’t scream,” one of the men warned, his voice low and menacing.

Y/n’s heart hammered in her chest, panic flooding her system. She couldn’t even scream if she wanted to—the threat of the gun was too real. She instinctively reached for her phone, but another man grabbed her wrist, twisting it painfully.

“What the hell do you want?” she demanded, her voice trembling but defiant.

“We’re not here for you to talk, Dr. Y/L/N,” another man said, his grip tightening.

They started to drag her toward the elevator, her feet stumbling as she struggled to break free. The cold, silent presence of the men only intensified her fear. She recognized their faces—sharp suits, dark expressions—no one she knew, but they had the look of people who didn’t care if they were noticed.

They shoved her into the elevator, one of the men pressing the button for the ground floor. Y/n’s breath came in shallow gasps, her mind racing for an escape, for anything she could do to get out of this. She barely registered the elevator descending—her focus was on the sharp edge of the barrel against her side, the feeling of helplessness beginning to drown her.

When the elevator doors opened, they pulled her out into the underground garage, where a black van was waiting. The men shoved her into the back with frightening ease, slamming the door behind her.

The moment she landed in the cold, dark interior, the door to the front of the van opened, and a figure stepped inside—Jungkook.

Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide with shock.

“You...” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Jungkook stood in front of her, looking more like a stranger than the man she once loved. His hair was a little longer, his face harder, the darkness in his eyes unmistakable. He looked almost... broken.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice rough, like he wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry.”

Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. “What have you done?” she managed to choke out, the betrayal and fear flooding her in equal measure.

Jungkook stepped forward, his face serious, but his hands trembled as he reached for her.

“I had to. I... I didn’t know how to get you back, but I’m not letting you go again.”

The van rumbled down the road as Y/n sat there, her heart racing in her chest. Jungkook’s presence in the van made everything feel so much heavier. His face was set in a grim expression, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. He hadn’t said much since she had seen him, and the weight of silence between them was suffocating.

She pulled herself away from him, trying to steady her breathing, but the panic only grew.

“You don’t have to do this,” Y/n said, her voice shaking but firm. “Let me go. Please, Jungkook.”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze cold, as though he were still wrestling with his own emotions.

Before she could say anything else, one of the men in the back of the van moved toward her. He was tall, wearing a black suit, his expression blank. He pulled out a small syringe from his pocket and showed it to her, the liquid inside swirling ominously under the dim lights of the van.

“No,” Y/n whispered, her voice low and panicked. “Please—what are you doing?”

The man didn’t answer, his face stone-cold. He grabbed her arm roughly, and before she could even try to pull away, the needle pierced her skin.

The cold sting of the injection spread through her veins, and a strange dizziness washed over her immediately. Her body felt heavy, like the weight of the world had suddenly shifted to her shoulders.

“No... no, please...” Y/n’s words slurred as she fought against the effects of the sedative. Her mind was starting to fog over, the world around her blurring. She tried to push herself up, to get away, but the strength to move was slipping away.

Jungkook’s eyes locked onto hers, a faint, almost sorrowful look in his gaze.

“I didn’t want to do this, but you left me no choice.” His voice was barely a whisper, and it hurt more than the physical pain.

She opened her mouth to speak, to plead with him one last time, but her vision swam, her head growing heavier by the second.

“I’m sorry, Y/n…” Jungkook’s voice was the last thing she heard before everything went dark.

Her body slumped, her head falling against the cold, hard surface of the van as the sedative pulled her into an unconscious haze.

Author’s POV

The low hum of the boat’s engine was the only sound filling the thick silence of the night. Y/n was completely unconscious, her body slumped in the back of the van, but her mind was still lingering somewhere in the darkness. The sedative had done its job, but it didn’t erase her awareness—only dulled it.

She could hear the men talking, their voices muffled but distinct in the space around her.

“What are we going to do with her, boss?” one of the men asked, his tone filled with cold curiosity.

Jungkook’s voice, steady and commanding, cut through the air.

“Take her to the room,” he ordered, his words deliberate, like each one was weighed with a heavy, irreversible finality.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat despite the fog in her mind. The room? She didn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend what they meant.

Her head felt heavy, like it was being pulled underwater, but she could still hear them clearly.

“The room?” the man asked again, his voice betraying some uncertainty.

Jungkook didn’t falter. “Yes, the lab. The doctor that Kim Sik hired will be there, and she’ll do her part.”

Y/n’s body twitched involuntarily as her heart pounded against her ribcage. Lab? She could barely process the words as they hit her like a wave. What were they planning to do with her? The dread crept in, but her body refused to respond—still too sedated to fight, too weak to even move.

Jungkook’s voice softened just slightly, as if trying to reassure her despite the cold command in his previous words.

“You’ll be okay, baby,” he said, his words barely a whisper in the room. The tone was strangely gentle, like he was speaking to the woman he loved and not the person he had just dragged into this terrifying reality. “You’ll wake up, and everything will fall into place.”

But his words didn’t bring comfort. They only deepened the pit of fear that had already started forming in her chest.

Y/n’s eyelids fluttered, a half-conscious attempt to wake up, but the sedative still held a firm grip on her senses. Her mind raced, but her body was far too heavy to move. She felt as if she were sinking deeper into the darkness with each passing second.

Author’s POV

Y/n jolted awake, gasping for air as she clutched her stomach. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths shallow and erratic. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus on her surroundings. She was in their bed, the familiar sheets surrounding her. The nightmare she had just woken from felt so vivid, so real. She could still feel the coldness of the laboratory bed, her clothes being ripped away, and the excruciating numbness spreading across her body. But now... now she was safe.

She touched her stomach instinctively, but when her fingers brushed over her skin, she froze. Her fingers curled around a cool metal band—a wedding ring. Jungkook.

Her eyes widened as the confusion washed over her. The dream, the nightmare, was so real, so terrifying. But... where was the baby?

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Jungkook’s voice pulled her from her racing thoughts. His voice was raspy, like he had just woken up as well, though his tone was laced with concern. He reached for her gently, brushing her hair back as she sat up on the bed. “Come back to sleep, babe,” he urged softly.

Y/n blinked, still trying to piece everything together. “I… I thought…” She trailed off, shaking her head as her confusion only deepened.

The morning light crept into their room, but Y/n still felt unsettled, as if the fog of the nightmare was clinging to her, threatening to pull her under once again.

She stumbled out of bed, the dizziness hitting her like a wave. The nausea crept up in her stomach before she even made it to the bathroom. She barely managed to make it to the sink before she bent over, vomiting heavily.

Jungkook was quick to follow, his hands gentle as he held her hair back, his other hand resting on her back as he murmured softly.

“Baby, let’s get you checked out, babe,” he said, his voice filled with concern. There was an underlying tension in it, but it wasn’t the same coldness she had grown used to.

Y/n wiped her mouth, the taste lingering bitterly. “Yeah, I think so too... I’ve been dreaming weirdly these past few weeks,” she admitted, her voice hoarse. The feeling of the nightmare still haunted her, and the confusion lingered like an unwelcome guest.

Jungkook’s expression was unreadable as he helped her back to their bed, though his eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite place. He was trying to be supportive, but something about his demeanor made her feel like he was hiding something.

After a brief moment of silence, they were on their way to the hospital, the drive uneventful but tense.

Once they arrived, Y/n was led into a sterile examination room, the hospital’s cold air doing nothing to ease the chill she felt inside. The nurse led her inside, and she couldn’t help but blink in surprise when she saw the woman’s face. It was... Sungkyung.

For a brief moment, Y/n thought she was still in the dream. The nurse's face was the same, and the familiarity sent a shiver down her spine.

“Sungkyung?” Y/n asked in disbelief, but the nurse simply smiled warmly at her.

“Just call me Nurse Jung,” she said lightly, adjusting her clipboard.

The doctor came in shortly after, and Y/n’s breath caught in her throat when she saw her. The doctor had the same features, the same aura. It was Jamie.

Jamie’s face looked as serious as ever, but Y/n could see a glimmer of recognition in her eyes.

“Y/n, we’ll take good care of you,” the doctor said, her voice calm but filled with concern. “I know you’re worried, but we’re going to run a few tests to make sure everything is okay.”

Y/n swallowed thickly, her mind still hazy from the nightmare. Tests? But what was she supposed to be worried about?

The doctor pulled out an ultrasound machine, and Y/n was too exhausted to protest. The cold gel hit her stomach, sending a wave of discomfort through her body. The monitor flickered to life, and her heart skipped a beat when the technician started moving the wand around.

Jamie, standing next to her, gave a soft, reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Y/n. We’ll see what’s going on in there.”

But when the screen lit up, Y/n’s entire world stopped. The small, flickering shape on the monitor was unmistakable. It was a baby.

Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Am I...?”

“Yes,” Jamie said gently, nodding. “You’re pregnant, Y/n.”

A heavy silence filled the room. Y/n’s mind raced as her hand instinctively went to her stomach. The baby. The nightmare. She was pregnant.

But the question that filled her head was why? Why did she have no memory of this? What happened to her during the time she’d been missing? What was Jungkook hiding?

Tears filled her eyes as the truth sank in. She wasn’t just haunted by her nightmares—there was something much darker she had yet to understand.

Y/n’s heart was pounding in her chest, her hands shaking as she looked at the ultrasound screen. The small flickering shape of the baby—it was unmistakable. The words the doctor spoke barely registered in her mind, her breath caught in her throat as her world seemed to spin out of control.

“You’re pregnant, Y/n.”

The words echoed in her head like a haunting melody, but something deep inside her instinctively felt like there was more. The nightmare, the strange sensations, the growing sense of dread—it all made sense now, but it didn’t quite fit. How was she pregnant? What had happened during the time she couldn’t remember?

Jamie, still standing next to her, looked at her with concern, her gaze lingering on Y/n as she processed the news.

“You’re going to be okay, Y/n,” Jamie said softly, but her voice didn’t sound reassuring. It was filled with an unspoken worry, like there was something more hidden beneath the surface.

Y/n’s eyes darted between Jamie and the monitor. “How… How long have I been pregnant?”

The question hung in the air, and Jamie’s silence spoke volumes. She shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the nurse who stood in the corner of the room.

“I… I need to check something,” Jamie finally said, her voice quieter than before.

Before Y/n could ask anything further, Jamie stepped away, whispering something to the nurse who quickly left the room. The air felt thick with tension, and Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Suddenly, the door to the examination room creaked open again. A figure entered, standing still in the doorway for a moment.

Jungkook.

His eyes locked onto hers, and his face was unreadable. He stepped inside, his footsteps slow but deliberate. The cold, emotionless look in his eyes made Y/n’s chest tighten.

"Y/n..." he began, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the moment hanging between them.

“Jungkook…” Her voice cracked, too many questions swirling in her mind. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me I was pregnant?"

His eyes flickered with something unreadable, then a shadow passed over his face. He walked closer, his presence overpowering the room.

“Because I didn’t want you to know,” he said softly, the words sending a chill down her spine.

A silence settled between them, thick and suffocating. And just as Y/n opened her mouth to respond, she heard a soft knock on the door.

A voice from behind the door, low and authoritative, echoed through the room:

“Mr. Jeon... we have a problem.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes darted between Jungkook and the door. What could be more of a problem than this?

Jungkook’s expression turned cold, and he glanced back at the door. “Not now,” he muttered, but the voice on the other side persisted.

“It’s urgent, sir.”

Jungkook’s eyes met Y/n’s for a moment, his gaze darkening. The tension was palpable.

“Stay here,” he said to Y/n, his voice low, a command disguised as concern. But she could feel the weight of his words—there was something more behind them.

Before she could respond, he turned, walking swiftly toward the door.

“Wait, Jungkook, what’s going on? What’s happening?” Y/n called out, panic rising in her chest.

But Jungkook didn’t look back. As the door slammed shut behind him, Y/n was left alone in the room, her heart racing, her mind spinning.

The sound of muffled voices outside the door grew louder as she sat there, alone with her thoughts. She had no idea what was happening, what Jungkook had been hiding from her all this time.

And then, suddenly, a soft beep filled the room—an ominous sound coming from the monitor beside her.

She looked at the screen, her eyes widening as the numbers on the machine flickered and changed.

It wasn’t just her pregnancy that was a mystery anymore.

It was everything.

[vodika-vibes]

She Could Have Been Mine

A companion piece to Sugarpop

Summary: Cody realizes what he lost.

Pairing: Background Commander Bly x F!Reader, Commander Cody

Word Count: 1086

Warnings: None? Minor angst

A/N: So, I finally wrote the sequel/companion piece to Sugarpop that so so many of you asked for. I hope you all like it.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

Loving her is easy.

She’s easy to love. Kind and gentle, warm and welcoming in a way you don’t see often outside the Jedi.

For Cody, loving her is as natural as breathing. 

And yet, he’s known from the start that she was too good for him. Someone like her deserves only the best. And Cody is far from the best.

So he does what he knows has to be done. He keeps his distance, treating her like a dear friend, almost a sister, but nothing more. He meets other women and dates them, and she always greets them with a warm smile and a baked treat.

And he ignores the way that she looks at him. The way she smiles at him. 

He ignores how her smile falters when he introduces another woman to the friend group. And he pretends he can’t see her heart breaking in her eyes every time he chooses someone else.

It’s for the best.

She deserves better than him.

When she gets kidnapped, her front door kicked in and her apartment trashed, Cody’s heart drops. He’s sure that they’re going to find her body in a ditch somewhere on Coruscant.

He gives up on her.

He can’t conceive of the possibility that she survives something like that. It’s not like she’s a soldier or anything like that. She’s just a baker. And, as much as he loves her, he can’t cling to the faint hope that she might still live. He has a war to win.

Bly…doesn’t agree.

“You have no proof that she’s dead!” Bly snaps, as he’s held back by Wolffe and Fox. Cody’s grateful for it, for all that Bly seems like an easygoing guy, he’s not sure he’d win in a fistfight against him. “You’re giving up on her even though nothing is indicating she’s dead?! What kind of friend are you?”

“I’m a realist, Bly. She’s just a baker—”

Bly rips himself free from his brothers and manages to restrain his anger with great difficulty, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so disgusted with one of my own brothers before. I refuse to give up. I’m going to find her.”

Six months later, Cody is sure that Bly must have given up. Everyone else has.

And yet, Bly sends a simple message in the group chat, “I found her. She’s alive. Will return to Coruscant when deployment ends.”

For Cody, the message is like a breath of fresh air. He never, once, dared to hope that she might still be alive.

And, for the first time, Cody starts to think that maybe he’s been going about this all wrong. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time for him to be honest with himself. 

The first time Cody sees her after her long imprisonment, he almost doesn’t recognize her. Her hair is cropped shorter than he had ever seen before, and she looks like she’s lost weight…but when she sees him she offers the same warm smile that she always gave him.

The same smile that makes his heart skip a beat. The same smile that he fell in love with all those months ago.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Cody offers as she walks over to him.

“Thank you. General Secura put me in touch with a mind healer at the temple, to help me process everything that happened to me. But…” She trails off, and looks away from him, her smile softening slightly, “I think I’m going to be alright.”

“That’s good. I’m glad the Jedi are willing to help you.”

“Well, General Secura said something about the kidnapping being half their fault? I’m not sure what she means, but she feels really guilty about it.”

Well, that’s news to him. But also, he doesn’t want to talk about the Jedi right now. Cody opens his mouth to say something, a rough plan on how he’d ask her on a date starting to form in the back of his mind.

Only he never gets the chance to speak.

“Sugarpop!” Her head turns to the side and a blinding smile crosses her face as she sees Bly standing there, “I was wondering where you slipped off to.”

Cody watches, stunned, as she turns away from him and skips over to Bly, not slowing as she crashes into him and wraps her arms around his neck. And he watches as Bly spins her around to work off some of that momentum, and then leans in to press his forehead against hers.

Oh.

Her hands come up and press against his cheeks, and a giggle he’s never heard before slips from her lips as Bly whispers something to her.

Oh.

A wry, slightly wistful, smile crosses his lips. 

He missed his chance. 

His gaze meets Bly’s for a moment, and then Cody looks away. He doesn’t want to see this. He doesn’t deserve to see this.

He hears Bly murmur something to her, and he glances at them in time to see her nod and slide back to the ground. “Are we still going to go to the—?” She trails off, her voice tinged in hope.

Bly grins at her and kisses her forehead, “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” He takes her hands for a moment, “Wait outside for me? I’ll be just a few minutes.”

“Alright.” She turns and smiles at Cody, “I’ll see you later, Cody!”

“Yeah. Later.” Cody watches her leave the building and then turns his attention to his brother.

“You alright, Codes?” Bly asks.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I’m not an idiot and I know you love her?”

“I’m fine, Bly. I’m not entitled to her.”

Bly sighs, “Did you think she was going to wait forever?”

“No. Of course not.” He pauses and then rubs the back of his neck, “Is she happy?”

“I like to think so.”

“Then that’s good enough for me. Just…keep making her happy, and I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Stop worrying about me, dumbass. Go to your girl.”

“Fine, fine.” Bly turns to leave the building as well, “Oh, but I’m telling Wolffe and Fox that you’re feeling sad.”

Cody huffs out a laugh, “Thanks.” Then Bly and gone and Cody takes a moment to push his hand through his hair.

She could have been his if he hadn’t been such a moron. But then, he’s not sure he’d be able to make her as happy as Bly does.

He tilts his head back, and a bitter laugh slips from him, “Force, I’m such a kriffing idiot.”

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[jburrgf]

Friends, The Love Trope Series.

Part II: Are We Still Friends?

◦pairing: ¡bestfriend! joe burrow x ¡bestfriend! reader

◦summary: friends to lovers, childhood friendship. slow burn, soulmates.

◦description: it’s the first year of college, you and joe go together to OSU like you planned, since you found out he was going to columbus. things are okay, until you felt they’re not. joe is distant, so as you, and the feeling of undone feeling still tight both of you together.

◦ playlist: Friends, Ed Sheeran From Eden, Hoozier 21, Gracie Abramns You Belong With Me, Taylor Swift I Couldn't Be More In Love, The 1975

FALL 2015, OHIO STATE UNIVERSITY.

Y/N

The late summer sun hung low in the Ohio sky as I hoisted another box out of the trunk of my car. Sweat trickled down my temple as I set it on the curb beside the others, letting out a soft sigh. Moving day was chaotic—cars packed the dorm parking lot, and students scrambled back and forth with suitcases, lamps, and laundry baskets. But for me, the chaos was exciting.

College. It was finally happening.

I scanned the sea of faces, watching as everyone moved with a kind of nervous energy. For most of us, this was the start of something completely new, and the air seemed to buzz with possibility. I’d lucked out with a single dorm room—not many freshmen got one—and it felt like a small victory as I grabbed the last box and started making my way toward the building.

“Need a hand with that?”

I turned to see a girl about my age with curly auburn hair and bright green eyes, standing in the doorway of the room next to mine. She was holding a clipboard, looking like she’d been organizing her own unpacking. Her smile was warm and welcoming, and I couldn’t help but grin back.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it. Last one,” I said, hoisting the box higher.

She stepped aside as I squeezed past her and into my room, setting the box down on my bare mattress. When I turned back around, she was leaning casually against the doorframe.

“I’m Lauren,” she said. “Your neighbor. I figured I’d introduce myself before the semester gets crazy.”

“Y/N,” I replied, brushing my hands on my jeans. “Nice to meet you.”

She stepped into the room, looking around at the neatly labeled boxes and the bare white walls. “Single room, huh? Lucky. They really hooked you up.”

I laughed, nodding. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting it, but I’m not complaining.”

Lauren gave me a teasing smile. “So, are you here on a mission to focus completely on school, or are you going to let loose a little?”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Let loose, huh? I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You know what I mean. Parties, meeting people, the whole college experience. Do you have a boyfriend back home, or are you starting fresh?”

The question caught me off guard, and for a second, I hesitated. A boyfriend? No, not officially. But the moment she asked, my thoughts immediately went to Joey.

Joe Burrow. My best friend.

I shook my head quickly. “No boyfriend,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.

Lauren tilted her head, studying me curiously. “But you hesitated. There’s someone, isn’t there?”

I felt my cheeks warm and let out a soft laugh, brushing off the question. “Not exactly. Just… my best friend. We’ve known each other forever.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Is he cute?”

“Lauren!” I exclaimed, laughing again.

“What? It’s a valid question!” she said with a grin.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Yes, okay? He’s… objectively attractive, I guess.”

She gave me a knowing look, crossing her arms. “Uh-huh. And you’re telling me you two have never—?”

“Nope,” I cut her off quickly, shaking my head. “We’re just friends. Always have been.”

Lauren looked skeptical but didn’t press further. Instead, she smiled again and gestured toward the hallway. “Well, if you ever need anything—or if you want to hang out—you know where to find me.”

“Thanks, Lauren,” I said genuinely.

As she left, I sat down on my bed, staring at the boxes scattered around the room. The start of college felt like a fresh chapter, but the thought of Joe still lingered at the back of my mind. I couldn’t help wondering how he was settling in on his end.

JOE BURROW.

The frat house was already buzzing with activity when I pulled up. A group of guys was lounging on the porch, beers in hand, as they laughed and shouted over each other. I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement as I walked up the steps.

“Yo, new guy!” one of them called out, a tall guy with dark hair and an easygoing grin. “You lost?”

I shook my head, smirking. “Nah. Just moving in.”

The guy hopped down from the porch, extending a hand. “I’m Ryan. You must be the quarterback they’ve been talking about.”

I shook his hand firmly. “Joe. Nice to meet you.”

Ryan gave me a once-over, nodding approvingly. “Welcome to the house, man. You’re gonna love it here.”

I followed him inside, where a few other guys were lounging on mismatched couches, watching a game on the massive flat-screen TV. Ryan introduced me to a couple of them, and I could already tell this was going to be a good group to hang out with.

“So, Joe,” one of the guys said, leaning back in his seat. “Quarterback, huh? You must have no trouble with the ladies.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Not really my focus right now.”

“Yeah, right,” Ryan said, grinning. “Come on, man. There’s gotta be someone back home, right?”

Before I could answer, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the notification.

Y/N: Hope you’re settling in okay! <3

The heart emoji next to her name made me smile, and for a moment, I forgot where I was.

“Who’s that?” Ryan asked, leaning over to peek at my screen.

I quickly locked the phone, tucking it back into my pocket. “Just my best friend.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Best friend, huh? Does she know you’re calling her that?”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like that. We’ve known each other forever. She’s basically family.”

Ryan and the others exchanged a look, and I could tell they weren’t buying it.

“Whatever you say, man,” Ryan said, clapping me on the shoulder. “But if you ever need advice on how to make your move, we’ve got you covered.”

I shook my head, laughing as I grabbed my duffel bag and headed toward the stairs. These guys didn’t get it. Y/N wasn’t just some girl. She was Y/N—my best friend, the person who’d been by my side through everything.

But as I set my bag down in my room and pulled out my phone to text her back, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe they were right. Maybe I wasn’t being honest with myself about how I really felt.

Y/N

The buzz of the first week of college was still settling, and my nerves hadn’t completely gone away. Armed with my notebook and an iced coffee, I walked into my Introduction to Literature class, scanning the room for an empty seat. It was a large lecture hall, and most of the seats were already filled with students chatting or scrolling on their phones.

The air inside the lecture hall felt a little too cold as I walked in, my backpack slung over one shoulder. The room was packed with students, all busy sorting through notes or tapping away at their laptops. I found an empty seat toward the middle and slid into it, pulling out my notebook. The class was introductory psychology, and I’d been looking forward to it.

A few minutes passed, and the professor started setting up at the front, but I wasn’t fully focused. My mind kept drifting to the people I’d met so far. I’d been here for only a few days, but I already felt like I was starting to find my place.

As I scanned the room, I noticed a guy walking in, just a few seats away from mine. He had tousled brown hair, sharp green eyes, and a relaxed smile that made him seem friendly. He caught my gaze and smiled back before sitting down next to me.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked.

“Not at all,” I replied, his voice warm and inviting.

Sliding into the seat, I glanced at him briefly. He was tall, with slightly messy brown hair and striking green eyes. There was something inherently kind about the way he smiled—a smile that reached his eyes—and it put me at ease almost instantly.

"Hey, you’re in this class too?" he asked, pulling out a notebook and a pen.

"Yeah, I am," I replied, offering a smile of my own. "It’s nice to meet someone else who's excited for the semester."

He chuckled lightly, his eyes warm. "I wouldn’t say excited, but I’m definitely here to learn."

As we started talking about the class, I realized he was genuinely intelligent. The way he answered the professor's questions—thoughtful and concise—made me feel a little more at ease.

“Did you get what he said just now about postmodernism?” I whispered.

He glanced at me, his eyes sparkling with humor. “Yeah, here.” He slid his notebook closer so I could read his notes, which were perfectly legible and far better than my own.

“Wow,” I said softly, impressed. “You’ve got great handwriting.”

“Thanks,” he said, chuckling. “Years of practice. I’m Ryan, by the way.”

“Y/N,” I replied, smiling. “So, you’re a football player, right?” I asked, casually glancing at his team jacket that he had draped over the chair.

He nodded, smiling with a hint of pride. “Yeah, I play for the team.”

“Oh, cool,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual, though my heart was beating a little faster.

We exchanged a few more small details about the class, and soon, I found myself laughing at his dry sense of humor. It was effortless, and I felt comfortable around him in a way that surprised me.

At the end of the lecture, we walked out together, chatting about the material.

“You’re pretty smart,” he said, glancing over at me with a grin.

I laughed, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

As we neared the door, he turned to me, his expression slightly more serious now. “So, what are you doing after class? Maybe we could grab coffee or something—study together?”

My heart fluttered. "Yeah, that sounds great."

We exchanged numbers quickly, and before I knew it, we were texting back and forth, making plans for later in the week. I couldn’t help but feel bubbly and happy. There was just something about him. Ryan wasn’t just nice—he was smart, thoughtful, and easy to talk to. It felt good to meet someone new, someone who made the whole overwhelming college experience seem a little less intimidating.

JOE BURROW.

The sound of rapid gunfire and explosions filled the living room of the frat house as I leaned forward, my thumbs flying over the controller. After the first practice of the year, I always take time to relax a little bit. I was deep in a match of Call of Duty, my focus unshakable, when the front door opened, and a group of guys walked in.

“Yo, Joe,” Ryan called out as he crossed the room toward me. “Are you busy?”

“Not really,” I said, pausing the game and sitting up. “What’s up?”

Ryan leaned back against the arm of the couch, looking unusually pleased with himself. “Met someone today in class. Sweet girl, really smart. Made the whole class way more tolerable.”

I shrugged, not thinking much of it. “Nice. Good for you.”

“Her name’s Y/N,” Ryan said casually, taking a sip of his water.

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name. Y/N. My best friend. She’d been texting me here and there, and I had this nagging feeling that something was different about this year—about us. But hearing Ryan talk about her like this made my stomach turn.

“You met her? Where?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual but failing.

“We’re in the same psych class. She’s cool—smart too. We’re actually going to study together later in the week.” Ryan’s smile was wide, a little smug.

For a second, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to sound like a jealous idiot, but the thought of someone else hanging out with her—it bothered me more than I cared to admit.

“She’s smart?” I said, my voice a little too sharp.

Ryan glanced at me, catching the edge in my tone. “Yeah. We talked a lot during class. She’s definitely got her head on straight. You know her, right?”

I nodded, though my mind was racing. “Yeah. We’ve known each other forever. She’s… my best friend.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, a knowing look crossing his face. “Your best friend, huh? That’s crazy. She didn’t mention you, though.”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Probably didn’t come up. She’s not one to talk about herself much.”

Ryan studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Huh. Well, she’s great. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so down-to-earth on the first day.”

I nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, she’s awesome.” I scratched the back of my neck. “She’s like family to me.”

Ryan gave me a skeptical glance, leaning back in the chair with a small chuckle. “Sure, man. Whatever you say.”

For a brief second, jealousy flared in my chest. Ryan was a good guy—kind, funny, and ridiculously good-looking. And Y/N seemed to like him, which shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did.

But I pushed the feeling down as quickly as it had come. If Y/N was happy, that was all that mattered.

“You’ve got my blessing, man,” I said, my tone light and teasing.

Ryan grinned. “Thanks, dude. I’ll let you know if she’s into me.”

He looked at his phone for a second, then turned back to me with a more serious expression. “By the way, I gave your number to this girl from my class. She was asking about you, and I thought it might be good.”

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. A girl had asked about me?

I blinked, trying to keep my cool. “Yeah. That’s fine. I’m not really looking for anything serious right now.”

“She was asking if you were single,” he said with a shrug. “Figured I’d help you out. Don’t worry, she’s hot.”

Normally, I’d brush something like that off, but this time, I didn’t mind. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get to know someone new, especially if Y/N was starting to connect with Ryan.

“Thanks, I guess,” I said, shaking my head.

Ryan smiles, clearly satisfied. “Yeah, no pressure. Just thought you might like to know.”

My stomach twisted as I grabbed my phone, checking for any messages. There were a couple from Y/N, but my thoughts kept drifting to Ryan’s words. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her to move on. It was just... the thought of her with someone else felt strange. Almost wrong.

But I couldn’t exactly say that, could I? She was my best friend. Nothing more.

Right?

Y/N

The restaurant was a cozy little place just off campus, tucked away from the bustling streets. The kind of spot you’d walk past a hundred times and never notice until someone pointed it out. Inside, the hum of conversation mixed with the scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling garlic. I’d already claimed a booth by the window, sipping on my iced tea and staring out at the world beyond, trying not to overthink.

It was our first week of college, and while everything was new and exciting, it was also overwhelming. Having Joey around was like having a piece of home with me, something familiar to keep me grounded. When I saw him walk through the door, his messy hair falling into his eyes and his Ohio State hoodie looking soft and worn, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey, trouble,” he greeted as he slid into the seat across from me, grinning like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Hi, Joey,” I replied, my voice soft but happy.

He grabbed a menu, glancing over it before looking up at me. “Alright, first week of college. Give me the rundown. How’s it been?”

I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand as I thought about it. “Honestly? It’s been... good. Busy, but good. My professors seem nice enough, and the classes are interesting so far. And I’ve met some cool people.”

Joey’s brows lifted slightly, a flicker of curiosity passing across his face. “Cool people, huh? Like who?”

“Well, Lauren from down the hall is awesome. She’s fun and, like, effortlessly cool. She invited me to this festival thing during spring break,” I said, my excitement building as I described it. “It’s kind of like a pool party, but there’s powder paint, soap, and bubbles. Doesn’t that sound amazing?”

He leaned back in the booth, crossing his arms and smirking. “You’re telling me you want to get covered in paint and soap, and you think that’s amazing?”

“Joey,” I whined, giving him my best puppy-dog eyes. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Please, will you come with me? I don’t want to go alone.”

He held my gaze for a moment, like he was deciding whether to give in or let me squirm a little longer. Finally, he sighed, shaking his head with a small laugh. “Fine. I’ll go. But if I get paint in my hair, you’re on cleanup duty.”

“Deal!” I said, grinning triumphantly.

As our food arrived and we started eating, the conversation drifted to other things—classes, our dorms, and little anecdotes about our first week. But eventually, I found myself talking about Ryan.

“He’s in my Intro to Physcology class,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “He’s really nice, Joey. Like, genuinely nice. And smart, too.”

Joey paused mid-bite, glancing at me with an unreadable expression. “Ryan, huh? What’s his deal?”

“He’s on the football team, and I know you know him by now. I mean, I don’t know him that well yet, but we’re going out tomorrow,” I admitted, shrugging. “It’s not, like, a date or anything. Just... you know, hanging out.”

“Right,” he said, nodding slowly. “That’s... great. He seems like a good guy.”

“Yeah,�� I murmured, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze. “It’s just nice to talk to someone new, you know? Not that you’re not great, Joey. You’re the best, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he said with a mock-serious expression, making me laugh.

The rest of lunch was easy, comfortable. Joey had a way of making me forget about everything else, even just for a little while.

JOE BURROW

After lunch, I walked back to the frat house, feeling a mix of emotions I couldn’t quite put into words. On the one hand, I was happy for Y/N. She deserved to meet new people, have new experiences. But on the other hand, the way she talked about Ryan—it was like a punch to the gut.

I shook my head, trying to push the thought away as I stepped into the shower. The hot water was a relief, washing away the tension in my muscles, but it did nothing to clear my mind. By the time I stepped out, wrapping a towel around my waist, I still felt... off.

Sitting at my bed, I grabbed my phone to check for any messages.

Unknown Number: Hey, it’s Emily! Ryan said I could text you—hope that’s okay?

I stared at the screen, trying to place the name. Emily... oh, right. She was the girl who’d asked Ryan for my number. I hesitated for a second before typing back.

Me: Hey, no problem. What's up?

Her reply came almost instantly, and before I knew it, we were chatting. Emily was funny, confident in a way that caught me off guard, and easy to talk to. She mentioned being a football fan, which was a nice surprise. Most people only pretended to care about it once they found out who I was.

Emily: So, what are you doing tonight? Wanna grab a drink?

I glanced at the time, weighing my options. I didn’t really have plans, and honestly, it might be nice to get out for a bit.

Me: Yeah, sure. Where should we meet?

She sent me the name of a bar just off campus, and I quickly replied, confirming. Tossing my phone onto the bed, I stood up and pulled on a pair of jeans and a plain black T-shirt. My hair was still damp as I ran a hand through it, trying to make it look presentable.

Just as I grabbed my keys, my phone buzzed again. It was a text from Y/N.

Y/N: Thanks for lunch, Joey. I already miss you :(

You’re the best!

I stared at the message, a strange warmth settling in my chest. For a moment, I thought about texting her back, but instead, I slipped the phone into my pocket and headed out the door.

Tonight wasn’t about Y/N. It couldn’t be. I had to stop letting my feelings for her dictate everything I did. Emily was nice, and this was my chance to start fresh.

[…]

The bar was alive with energy. The hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional cheer from the pool tables blended into the beat of the music playing over the speakers. As I pushed through the heavy doors, I scanned the room, quickly spotting Emily sitting at the bar. She was hard to miss—blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, a fitted shirt that seemed to shimmer under the dim neon lights, and little high waisted jeans. And, of course, a confidence in her posture that immediately caught my attention.

“Hey,” I said, stepping up beside her.

She turned, flashing a bright smile. “Hey, Joe. Glad you made it.”

I nodded, taking the seat next to her. “You’re hard to say no to.”

Her laugh was light, easy. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The bartender approached, and I ordered a beer, Emily opting for a vodka soda. We chatted for a bit, keeping it casual at first. She asked about football, and I asked about her classes, but as the drinks started to flow, the conversation shifted.

“So,” she said, leaning closer, her lips quivering into a playful smile. “How good are you at the pool?”

“Decent,” I replied, matching her grin. “Why? You wanna find out?”

“Obviously,” she teased, grabbing her drink and sliding off the barstool. “Come on, QB. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

We made our way to the pool table, the low overhead light casting a golden glow on the felt. She grabbed a cue, expertly chalking the tip while I racked the balls. Her confidence was magnetic, and I couldn’t help but feel drawn to it.

“Ladies first,” I said, gesturing to the table.

“Chivalry isn’t dead after all,” she quipped, taking her shot. The balls scattered, and she sank one into the corner pocket with ease.

I raised an eyebrow. “Alright, I see how it is. You’ve played before.”

“Maybe a few times,” she said, her tone coy as she lined up her next shot.

We went back and forth, trading playful banter as we played. She was good, I’ll admit, but I wasn’t about to let her win without a fight. Eventually, she scored a tricky shot that had me shaking my head in disbelief.

“That was pure luck,” I said, leaning on my cue as she straightened up, a victorious smile on her face.

“Luck?” she echoed, tilting her head. “I’d call it skill.”

She stepped closer, her confidence radiating. Her eyes sparkled under the dim lights, and for a moment, I forgot about the game entirely. Acting on impulse, I leaned in, brushing my lips against hers. It wasn’t a deep kiss, more of a testing-the-waters kind of thing, but she responded instantly, her hand sliding to my arm.

When we pulled back, she was grinning. “I’ll take that as you admitting I won.”

“Don’t push your luck,” I said, smirking despite myself.

Y/N

The soft strumming of Hozier’s Like Real People Do filled my room, wrapping around me like a blanket as I sat cross-legged on my bed, a book resting on my lap. The evening was quiet, the kind of night that felt perfect for losing myself in another world. I turned a page, my fingers brushing the worn edges of the paper, when a sudden knock on my door pulled me from my little cocoon.

“Coming,” I called, setting the book aside and slipping off the bed.

When I opened the door, Lauren stood there, her energy practically buzzing.

“Why are you here?” she asked, pushing past me into the room. “It’s Friday night, Y/N. You’re supposed to be out, not... reading.”

“I like reading,” I said defensively, closing the door behind her.

“Yeah, but there’s a whole party happening at the bar right now,” she said, plopping onto my bed. “You should come. Everyone’s there.”

“Everyone?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lauren grinned. “Ryan’s there.”

That caught my attention. My heart did a little flip, and I tried to play it cool, but Lauren saw right through me.

“Don’t even try to pretend you’re not interested,” she said, standing up and pulling me toward my closet. “Come on, get dressed. You’re coming with me.”

I sighed, but a part of me was already excited. The thought of seeing Ryan again—and maybe getting to know him a little better—was enough to convince me. I let Lauren rummage through my clothes, eventually settling on a casual but cute outfit: high-waisted jeans, a fitted crop top, and my favorite sneakers.

“You look amazing,” Lauren said, stepping back to admire her work.

“Thanks,” I said, grabbing my bag. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

The bar was packed when we arrived, the energy infectious. Music thumped through the speakers, and laughter echoed from every corner. I scanned the room, looking for Ryan, when my gaze landed on someone else entirely.

Joe.

He was by the pool table, leaning against it with that easy confidence he always seemed to carry. But it wasn’t just him. A blonde girl stood next to him, laughing at something he said. And then—like a punch to the stomach—I saw it.

He kissed her.

I froze, my heart sinking. The world around me seemed to blur, the noise of the bar fading into the background. For a moment, all I could do was stand there, staring at them.

We were wearing the same clothes. Me and her, matching.

And she was kissing him.

“Y/N?” Lauren’s voice pulled me back to reality.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “Let’s... let’s find Ryan.”

But as we moved deeper into the bar, my chest felt tight. I couldn’t shake the image of Joe and that girl, their kiss replaying in my mind like a cruel reminder of something I didn’t even fully understand.

And yet, I smiled. For Ryan. For myself. Like it didn’t matter. Like Joe kissing someone else didn’t feel like losing something I never had.

[…]

Spring break was finally here, and I was feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. The festival was just around the corner, and my friends from high school had made the trip to Columbus to join us for it. They were all staying in my best friend’s sister’s apartment, which was conveniently just a few minutes away from the Ohio State campus. It felt strange to have everyone in one place again, especially since I hadn’t seen most of them since high school graduation.

I was sitting on the couch, scrolling through my phone while my friend, Lauren, was getting ready in the bathroom. The apartment was filled with the buzz of preparation, the sound of blow dryers and laughter echoing through the rooms. I felt a sense of nostalgia, but there was something else lurking behind it. The nagging, aching feeling of the distance that had grown between Joe and me. It had been weeks since I last saw him, and the silence between us was becoming deafening. We had both been so caught up in our own lives, so wrapped up in our new routines at college.

“Y/N!” Lauren called from the bathroom, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You’re not listening. What’s going on? You’re so quiet.”

I glanced up, trying to mask the sadness that had crept up inside me. “Sorry. I’m just... thinking.”

Lauren stepped out of the bathroom, adjusting the straps of her dress. “You’re thinking about Ryan, aren’t you?” she asked, a teasing grin on her face.

I blinked, startled by the directness of her question. “What? No... well, kind of. We’ve been hanging out more. It’s nice.”

Lauren raised an eyebrow. “It’s nice?”

I hesitated, unsure of how to explain it. “Yeah, I mean, he’s cool. We’ve been having a good time.”

She smiled, but there was a curious glint in her eyes. “And what about Joe?”

I stiffened, the mention of his name immediately triggering the ache in my chest. “Joe?” I repeated, trying to keep my tone casual. “I haven’t seen him in a while. It’s... been a couple of weeks, actually.”

Lauren watched me carefully, her expression softening. “You miss him, don’t you?”

I didn’t respond at first, staring at the floor. The truth hung heavy in the air, and I couldn’t bring myself to say it aloud. Instead, I shrugged. “I don’t know. Things got weird after a while, and we just... haven’t talked.”

“Maybe you should reach out to him,” Lauren suggested, her voice gentle but insistent.

I smiled weakly, though the thought of reaching out made me feel even more unsure. “Maybe.”

But deep down, I knew that part of me was hoping that he would reach out first, that Joe would come back and say something—anything—to break the silence that had stretched between us.

JOE BURROW

The faint sound of a knock on my door pulled me out of the haze of half-consciousness. I groggily opened my eyes, only to find Emily lying beside me in bed, her body still warm next to mine.

“Joe,” she murmured, tracing a finger along my chest. “I’m not ready to get up yet.”

I glanced at the clock. I had an hour before I had to leave for the festival. A part of me wanted to just stay in bed, to ignore everything else and enjoy the moment. But there was something about Emily that didn’t sit right with me. I didn’t know what it was exactly, but it bothered me. The way she always seemed so... nonchalant about everything.

I pulled away slightly, rubbing my eyes. “I have that festival today, babe. The one you didn’t want to go to,” I said, my voice hoarse from sleep.

She barely reacted, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. “Yeah, I know. You have to get ready.”

Her tone was flat, as if she didn’t really care. The lack of enthusiasm, the indifference—something about it made me feel uneasy. I wasn’t used to this type of relationship, where everything seemed to float on the surface without any depth.

I sighed, standing up and reaching for my clothes. “I’m going. I’ll see you later.”

Emily gave me a quick nod, not even bothering to sit up. “Sure. Have fun.”

I gave her a kiss, and went to get ready.

As I pulled on my t-shirt and jeans, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to this whole thing. I didn’t want to be with someone who didn’t care, not really. But maybe that’s what this was—a distraction, something to fill the space while I tried to figure out where I stood with Y/N.

The thought of her hit me harder than I expected. It had been weeks, and the silence between us was suffocating. I had told myself that it was fine, that maybe it was better this way. But deep down, I knew I was lying to myself. I missed her.

After getting dressed, I grabbed my keys and headed out of the room. The guys were waiting for me downstairs. I forced myself to smile, to get into the mood of the festival, but something about the way the day was shaping up felt off.

Y/N

The festival was alive with energy, an explosion of colors, music, and laughter. People were dancing, some already covered in the vivid hues of colored powders that filled the air. The sun was warm, the beats of the music pulsing through my chest as I stood with my friends, our excitement contagious. I couldn’t help but smile, the festival atmosphere reminding me of simpler times.

Lauren nudged me playfully, a mischievous grin on her face. “Careful, Y/N. You might end up looking like a walking rainbow,” she teased, pointing to the vibrant splashes of color that now covered her shirt.

I chuckled, brushing the loose strands of hair away from my face. “It’s half the fun,” I said, shrugging. “Just don’t get it on my shoes!”

We were surrounded by laughter and people chatting, but a part of me couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in my chest. It had been weeks since I’d last seen Joe, and even though I had tried to push it aside, I couldn’t help but wonder where he was—what he was doing. The thought of him, with Emily, made me feel unsettled, even though I had no right to feel that way. We weren’t together, and I hadn’t even talked to him in days. Yet, somehow, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“Hey, you made it!” Ryan’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I turned to see him standing in front of me, his signature grin plastered on his face. His green eyes sparkled with excitement as he stood there, dressed in a white t-shirt that was quickly becoming a canvas of color.

“Of course I did,” I replied with a smile, my voice almost a little too eager. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Ryan laughed, running a hand through his hair. “You seem pretty pumped about this. You’ve done this before, right?”

I shook my head, my excitement making my voice lighter. “No, first time. But it’s a good start.” I motioned to the crowd. “This is insane, though. Everyone’s already covered in paint.”

He shrugged, his smile still warm. “Yeah, that’s the fun part. You’ll get used to it.” His tone was casual, but there was a spark in his eyes that I couldn’t ignore.

We spent the next few minutes chatting and laughing, getting completely covered in the neon powders. As much as I was enjoying his company, my mind kept drifting back to Joe. It wasn’t like me to get caught up in thoughts of him, especially when there was so much fun happening around me. But every now and then, I found myself scanning the crowd, looking for a familiar face.

I tried to push it away, but my heart skipped a beat when I finally spotted him.

Joe.

He was standing near the edge of the crowd, looking relaxed, laughing with his friends. But it was something in the way he stood that caught my attention—something that made my chest tighten. His hair was messier than usual, and his eyes sparkled with laughter. There was a magnetic pull toward him, an undeniable connection that seemed to draw me in.

But just as I started to walk toward him, something caught my eye. Emily. She was standing next to him, a flirtatious grin plastered on her face, her hand casually resting on his arm. They looked... good together, and it made something in my chest clench painfully.

For a moment, I stood frozen, my feet glued to the ground as I watched them interact. Joe was laughing, his hand resting on the small of Emily’s back as they shared a quiet joke. The warmth that had bloomed inside me earlier began to dissipate, replaced by an unexpected rush of jealousy and hurt.

I quickly turned away, feeling a knot form in my stomach. Why did it bother me so much to see him with her? Was it because I wanted it to be me? The thought of Joe and Emily together made my heart ache, and I couldn’t quite place why.

“Are you okay?” Ryan’s voice interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to see him looking at me with concern.

I forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil swirling inside me. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, my voice a little too high-pitched. “Just... I wasn’t expecting to see him here.”

Ryan frowned but didn’t press me further. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” I replied, taking a deep breath. “I’m good. Really.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy that shot through me. Why did it hurt so much to see him with her?

JOE BURROW.

I wasn’t sure what had gotten into me. I should’ve been having fun, should’ve been caught up in the excitement of the festival, but all I could think about was Y/N. It wasn’t like me to obsess over her like this, but ever since the whole thing with Emily started, it was like my mind couldn’t stop wandering back to her.

Emily and I had spent most of the day together, but it wasn’t the same as it used to be. Something about her felt distant, and the more time we spent together, the more I realized that I wasn’t really into her like I thought I was.

We were walking through the crowd when I caught a glimpse of Y/N from across the field. My heart nearly stopped. She looked stunning—her hair a mess of curls, her face bright with excitement, and her eyes sparkling even from a distance. I couldn’t help but stare, but then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Emily standing next to me.

“Joe,” she said, tugging at my sleeve. “You’ve been spacing out all day. What’s up with you?”

I glanced at her, my mind still on Y/N. “Nothing,” I muttered, forcing a smile.

Emily raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. But before she could say anything, I turned to see Y/N’s eyes on me. For a brief second, our gazes locked, and I felt that familiar connection, the one I’d been trying to ignore for weeks now. But then, just as quickly, Y/N looked away, turning toward Ryan.

Something in me twisted.

“Let’s go drink something,” Emily suggested, her voice pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah, okay,” I said, trying to shake the lingering thoughts of Y/N. But as we walked toward the bar area, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder, my eyes searching for her in the crowd. She was laughing, talking to Ryan, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. Something inside me clenched.

I needed to talk to her. But I didn’t know how.

Y/N

The music was deafening, the kind that pulsed through your veins and made the ground tremble beneath your feet. The air was thick with color, clouds of neon powder mixing with the humid evening air, clinging to our sweaty skin. I didn’t care. Not tonight.

Lauren grabbed my hand, pulling me further into the crowd as "Wake Me Up" by Avicii blared from the speakers. Everyone around us was jumping, laughing, and singing along at the top of their lungs, their energy infectious. I let out a laugh, throwing my arms in the air and spinning in a circle as Lauren cheered me on.

“You look like a walking rainbow!” she shouted over the music, pointing to the streaks of blue, pink, and green that covered my face and clothes.

“You too!” I shot back, laughing as I reached for another drink. The plastic cup in my hand was cold, the liquid a too-sweet mix of something fruity and alcohol that I couldn’t quite place. It didn’t matter. I needed this—needed to feel free, to let go of the weight that had been sitting on my chest ever since I saw Joe at the festival earlier.

It was stupid to care so much. He had Emily now. They were happy, or at least it seemed that way. And yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about him—about the way he had looked at me earlier, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“Y/N!” Ryan’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I turned to see him weaving through the crowd, his white t-shirt smeared with streaks of color. He looked happy, carefree, his green eyes sparkling under the festival lights.

“Hey!” I said, forcing a smile as he reached me.

“You look like you’re having fun,” he said, grinning as he leaned in closer, his voice warm and inviting.

“I am,” I replied, taking another sip of my drink. “This is crazy, though. I don’t think I’ve ever been this covered in paint.”

He laughed, his hand brushing against mine as he gestured to the crowd. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it? To let loose, have fun?”

I nodded, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Ryan was sweet—funny, easy to talk to. He didn’t make my heart race the way Joe did, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe I needed someone who didn’t complicate things, someone who wasn’t tied to years of messy emotions and unspoken feelings.

So when Ryan leaned in, his hand resting gently on my waist as he tilted his head, I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let myself close the gap, pressing my lips to his.

And like that, I was kissing him.

JOE BURROW.

I spotted her the second it happened.

It was like the world had slowed down for a moment, everything else fading into the background as I stood there, frozen in place, watching Y/N kiss Ryan.

My chest tightened, an uncomfortable heat spreading through me as I clenched my fists at my sides. I told myself I had no right to feel this way—no right to be angry or jealous. She wasn’t mine. She never had been.

And yet, the sight of her with him made my stomach churn.

Avicii was still playing, on the back of my head. I could hear them, and my skin was burning.

“Joe?” Emily’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I turned to see her looking up at me, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“What?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ve been acting weird all night, man. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I muttered, glancing back toward Y/N.

Emily followed my gaze, her expression darkening when she saw what I was looking at. “Oh,” she said flatly. “It’s her.”

I didn’t respond, my jaw tightening as I watched Ryan pull Y/N closer, his hands resting on her waist.

Emily let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“What are you talking about?” I snapped, finally turning to face her.

“You’re obsessed with her,” she said, her voice laced with frustration. “It’s like she’s all you think about.”

“I’m not—” I started, but Emily cut me off.

“Save it, Joe,” she said, stepping back. “If you’re so worried about her, maybe you should just go talk to her.”

“Where are you going?” I snapped.

“I know my way home.”

For a moment, I just stood there, watching as Emily walked away. She was right. I couldn’t stand here and pretend like I didn’t care.

I found Y/N near the edge of the crowd, her cheeks flushed and her hair a mess of curls streaked with neon colors. She was laughing with her friends, her cup half-empty in her hand, and Ryan stood beside her, his hand casually brushing against her arm as he leaned in to say something. My chest tightened at the sight.

“Y/N,” I called out, my voice louder than I intended.

She turned to look at me, her smile fading when she saw the look on my face. “Joe?”

“We need to talk,” I said firmly, ignoring the curious looks from her friends.

“Now?” she asked, frowning.

“Yes, now,” I insisted.

She sighed, handing her cup to Lauren before following me a few steps away from the crowd. “What’s so important that you had to interrupt my night? I was having fun!” she asked, her tone a little sharp.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words, but the frustration bubbling inside me wouldn’t let me stay quiet. “I don’t trust him, Y/N,” I said finally, my voice low.

“Who?” she asked, crossing her arms defensively. But when she looked behind her, her mind got brighter.

“Yes, Ryan,” I said, my frustration boiling over. “I don’t think he’s good for you.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You barely know him, Joe. How can you say that? He’s a nice guy, and he’s on your football team.”

“I know enough,” I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. “I see the way he looks at you. He doesn’t care about you, Y/N. He just wants—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing.

“I’m just trying to protect you,” I said, my tone softening as I stepped closer.

“Protect me?” she repeated, her voice rising in anger. “Joe, I’m not some damsel in distress. I can take care of myself. You don’t get to decide who’s good enough for me.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off, her voice trembling now. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re so caught up in this idea that you have to ‘protect me’ that you don’t even realize how controlling you’re being. It’s exhausting, Joe. You’re exhausted.”

“I’m not trying to control you,” I said, my voice quieter now.

“But that’s exactly what you’re doing,” she said, her expression softening with sadness. “You’ve always done this. You act like I can’t make my own decisions, like I don’t know what’s best for me.”

I stood there, speechless, the weight of her words hitting me like a punch to the gut.

“And if you think Ryan isn’t good enough,” she continued, her voice breaking, “then who is, Joe? Tell me, who’s the perfect person for me in your eyes?”

I froze, the answer sitting on the tip of my tongue but refusing to come out.

It 's me, Y/N. I’m the perfect guy.

It should’ve been me. I should’ve been the one that kissed you. It's been you since we were kids.

But I said nothing.

“That’s what I thought,” she said bitterly, tears welling in her eyes as she shook her head. “You can’t even admit it to yourself, can you?” She took a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes before looking up at me with a sad smile. “I can’t keep doing this, Joe. I can’t keep pretending that this… whatever this is between us, isn’t tearing me apart.”

“What are you saying?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m saying I need space,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite the tears running down her cheeks. “I need to figure out who I am without you constantly hovering over me, questioning my choices.”

“Y/N, you don’t mean that, we are best friends.” I said, panic rising in my chest.

“I do,” she said, stepping back.

Her words felt like a knife to the chest, and I could only stand there, helpless, as she turned away.

“Don’t look for me, please. Just… just leave me alone.” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the noise of the festival.

And just like that, she walked back toward the crowd, leaving me standing there alone, the neon lights casting long shadows on the ground between us.

[yikesdrama]

for one perfect moment 🩵 (ii) — Bucky Barnes

summary: bucky's birthday is coming up soon and you just want to do something special for him, maybe even take a time travelling trip to see his maa....

word count: 7k

warnings: fluff, kisses and lots of cuteness

a/n: please comment, like & reblog with your thoughts. this is the second part, there’s one more coming up next weekend!

masterlist | part 1 • part 3

previously— Winnie's gaze snapped to yours, her eyes narrowing slightly. "How do you know all of this? You've never told me who you are, or why you care so much about my James." You hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table. For the first time, you looked unsure, as though the question had caught you off guard.

But then you straightened, your gaze meeting Winnie’s with quiet determination. “I care because he deserves to have someone care. And I know because… I’ve seen him. I’ve spoken to him. I’ve seen how much he loves his life now, how hard he’s fought to be free of what they did to him.”

Winnie studied you closely, searching for any hint of deception. But there was none. Whoever you were, whatever strange circumstances had brought you here, you believed every word you said. And somehow, impossibly, so did Winnie.

“Why didn’t he come himself?” Winnie asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “If he’s alive, if he’s free… why hasn’t he come home to me? You came from the future, why couldn’t he?”

Your expression shifted, a flicker of sadness crossing your face. “I think… I think part of him doesn’t know how. After everything he’s been through, it’s hard for him to believe he deserves that kind of peace. And part of him is afraid—afraid of how much he’s changed, of what you might think of him now.”

“Think of him?” Winnie’s voice rose, trembling with emotion. “He’s my boy. My James. There’s nothing he could do, nothing he could have gone through, that would make me love him any less.”

You smiled faintly, a hint of relief softening your features. “I know that. And deep down, I think he does too. But it’s hard for him to see it sometimes.”

Winnie let out a shaky breath, her fingers brushing against the edge of the table. “He was always stubborn,” she murmured, her voice tinged with affection. “Even as a boy, once he got an idea in his head, you couldn’t talk him out of it.”

You chuckled softly, and the sound was warm, like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Yeah,” you said, your tone fond. “He’s still like that.”

For a moment, you both sat in silence, the weight of the conversation settling between you. Then Winnie straightened slightly, her gaze sharpening as another thought struck her. “You said Steven is alive too.”

You nodded. “He is. He and James are living together now, in Brooklyn.”

“In Brooklyn?” Winnie echoed, her brow furrowing. “You mean to tell me those two fools survived everything they went through and still ended up back here?”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “I guess they couldn’t resist coming home.”

Winnie shook her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips despite the tears still glistening in her eyes. “Of course they did. Those two were always thick as thieves. If there was trouble to be found, they’d find it together.”

“They still do,” you said, your smile widening. “But they’re good now. They’ve made a life for themselves—a real life. They’re happy.”

Winnie’s chest tightened, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. It was too much to process, too much to believe, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to doubt it.

Her boys. Alive. Together. Safe.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.”

You reached across the table, your hand warm and steady as it covered Winnie’s. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

Winnie’s fingers tightened around yours, gratitude and hope flooding her chest in equal measure. But before she could speak again, your expression shifted, a hint of nervous energy creeping into your gaze.

“There’s… something else,” you said slowly, as though choosing your words carefully. “I’ve been thinking about James. About what he’s been through, and what he’s lost. And I was wondering…” You hesitated, your eyes searching Winnie’s face. “Would you want to see him?”

Winnie froze, her breath catching in her throat. “See him?” she repeated, her voice barely audible. “You can do that?”

Your grip on her hand tightened slightly, a spark of determination lighting your eyes. “There’s a way. It’s… time travelling just like I did, and it might sound crazy, but I can bring him back here. Just for a week. For his birthday.”

Winnie stared at you, the words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. “You mean… you could bring him here? From the future?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice steady. “It wouldn’t change anything in the timeline—he wouldn’t be able to stay permanently—but it would give him a chance to see you. To have that time with you.”

The room felt impossibly still, the weight of the offer pressing down on Winnie like a physical force. Her heart raced, her thoughts spinning wildly as she tried to comprehend the enormity of what you were suggesting. To see her boy again. To hold him, to tell him everything she’d held in her heart for so long.

“Are you sure?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I’m sure,” you said firmly. “But only if you want it. If it’s too much, I understand.”

Winnie shook her head, fresh tears spilling over as a trembling smile broke across her face. “Too much? No. It’s everything. It’s more than I ever dared to hope for.”

You smiled, relief and warmth radiating from you like a beacon. “Then I’ll make it happen.”

Winnie let out a shaky laugh, her hands clutching yours as though you might vanish if she let go. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

For the first time in several months, hope blossomed in Winnie’s chest, a fragile but undeniable light cutting through the darkness. Her James was coming home. Even if only for a week, it would be enough. It would be everything.

As Winnie sat back in her chair, clutching her teacup as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded. Across from her, you watched her with patient, steady eyes, your hands folded neatly on the table. For all the warmth and kindness in your expression, there was a subtle alertness about you, as if you were bracing yourself for whatever might come next.

“So,” Winnie began softly, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her, “when are you bringing him here?”

You hesitated, your lips pressing together before you answered. “It won’t be immediate,” you said gently. “I still have to take care of a few things back home. Time travelling needs to be done very carefully.”

Winnie nodded slowly, turning the words over in her mind. “I see,” she murmured, though the concept was as baffling as everything else you had told her that day. “And it’ll be both of them? James and Steven?”

You tilted your head slightly, your brows knitting in mild confusion. “You want to see Steve, too?”

“Of course I do,” Winnie said, her voice firm now. “That boy… he was as much my son as James was. They were inseparable. Always running off together, getting into trouble. Steven was smaller, quieter, but oh, the mischief they caused.” She let out a soft, wistful laugh, her eyes shining with memory. “When James wasn’t pulling some prank, it was Steven. And when they weren’t eating me out of house and home, they were convincing Rebecca to smuggle cookies from the pantry. Those boys were mine, y/n. Both of them.”

Your face softened, your gaze warm with understanding. “I’ll bring Steve,” you promised. “He’d want to see you, too.”

Winnie leaned forward slightly, her expression serious. “You tell him he’d better show his face. I may be older now, but I can still box his ears if he’s too stubborn.”

You laughed, the sound breaking through the heaviness of the moment. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that felt less like avoidance and more like a quiet acknowledgment of everything they’d shared. Winnie sipped her tea, her mind racing with thoughts of James and Steven, of how different they must be now, and yet still the same in ways that mattered. She wanted to ask more—so much more—but she didn’t know how much more she could take before he brain began hurting.

You cleared your throat softly, breaking the quiet. “I’ll leave you something to help,” you said, pulling a small, unfamiliar device from your pocket. It was sleek, metallic, and fit neatly into the palm of your hand. You placed it on the table between you, your expression thoughtful. “This will let you know when we’re coming. It’ll turn green when we’re on our way.”

Winnie stared at the strange object, her fingers twitching with the urge to touch it. “And I’ll know it’s them?” she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Yes,” you said firmly. “When it lights up, you’ll know we’re coming in less than 2mins. But until then, it’s important that you don’t tell anyone about this. Not even Rebecca.”

Winnie nodded, though the request gave her pause. “Why not?”

“It could change things,” you said carefully, your tone deliberate. “The timeline is… fragile. Even the smallest change could ripple out and affect the future in ways we can’t predict.”

Winnie frowned but didn’t press further. She trusted you, even if your explanations left her head spinning. “I’ll wait,” she said finally, her voice steady. “Whenever you’re ready to bring them, I’ll be here.”

You smiled, relief flashing briefly across your face. “Thank you.” You rose from your chair, smoothing your hands over your strange, unfamiliar clothing. “I should go,” you said softly. “But I’ll be back soon. But please… don’t tell anyone else about this. Not until it’s time.”

Winnie nodded, though her mind lingered on the odd tension in your words. “I won’t,” she promised. “And thank you… for everything.”

As you stepped toward the door, you paused, “I’ll see you soon, Mrs. Barnes,” you said quietly before slipping out the door.

Winnie watched you go, the strange little device still sitting on the table, its metallic surface catching the light. She didn’t understand everything—perhaps she never would—but one thing was clear. You cared deeply for her son, in ways that went beyond mere kindness or duty. And while Winnie couldn’t quite put her finger on it, she had a feeling there was more to the story than you were letting on.

With a quiet sigh, she picked up the device, turning it over in her hands as a small smile tugged at her lips. Her boys were coming home. And no matter what secrets you might be hiding, Winnie would be ready.

The first thing Bucky became aware of was warmth—a soft, familiar weight pressed against his waist, accompanied by a flurry of something tickling his skin. His brows furrowed as his body stirred, torn from the haze of sleep by what felt suspiciously like lips pressing against his face. Again and again. Across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and down along his jawline.

“Doll,” he grumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep. “What’re you—?”

Before he could finish, another kiss landed on his chin, followed by a soft giggle that melted whatever protest he’d been trying to muster. He cracked one eye open, his gaze greeted by you perched on his waist, your legs folded neatly on either side of him, and face lit up like you’d just won the lottery.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” you chirped, leaning down to plant another kiss on his forehead. “Time to wake up.”

Bucky groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillow. “It’s too early for this,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.

“It’s never too early to kiss your grumpy face,” you retorted, your voice dripping with mischief as your trailed kisses down the side of his neck. “Plus, I made you breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” he repeated, cracking his other eye open now. His arms moved instinctively to settle on your hips, steadying you as he shifted slightly. “What kind of breakfast?”

“Only the best for my birthday boy,” you said grinning. “Chocolate chip and caramel pancakes, strawberries, and an Americano. Your favorite.”

Bucky’s lips parted slightly, his mind catching up to her words. “Birthday boy?” he echoed, groaning again as the realization hit him. “It’s not my birthday yet.”

“Close enough,” your voice sing-song as you leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “It’s your birthday week, Buck. So, get used to it.”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as his arms tightened around you. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Insanely in love with you,” you quipped, tilting your head to press a longer, slower kiss to his lips.

Bucky sighed into the kiss, his initial sleepiness melting away as he pulled you closer. One of his hands moved up your back, his fingers tangling lightly in your hair as he deepened the kiss, savoring the warmth of you against him. When you both finally broke apart, you were breathless, your cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.

“Morning kisses are dangerous,” you teased, nipping lightly at his bottom lip before sitting back on his lap.

“You started it,” he countered, smirking. “Don’t blame me for finishing it.”

Your laugh was soft and musical as you traced fingers lightly over his chest. “Come on, lazybones.”

Bucky groaned in protest but sat up, leaning back against the headboard as he adjusted you so you stayed steady on his lap. He glanced around for his T-shirt, his brow furrowing when he didn’t see it where he’d tossed it the night before.

“Where’s my shirt?” he asked, leaning over slightly to check the floor beside the bed.

When he looked back up, he froze mid-sentence, his lips parting as he took you in fully. You were sitting there, looking as sheepish as you were smug, wearing his shirt. The fabric hung loosely on your frame, the sleeves too long, and the hem brushing against your bare thighs. It was unmistakably his, and you looked too damn cute for your own good.

“Doll,” he said, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Did you steal my shirt?”

You gave him an innocent smile, tugging lightly at the hem as though to draw attention to your handiwork. “Maybe.”

“You little thief,” he teased, narrowing his eyes as a playful grin tugged at his lips.

“You left it lying around,” you shot back, tone matter-of-fact. “And besides, it’s comfy. Smells like you.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head as he reached out to tug gently on the sleeve. “You’re lucky you look so damn cute in it.”

“I know,” you said, grinning triumphantly.

He leaned forward suddenly, his arms wrapping around you, as he flipped you both over onto the mattress. Your squealed in surprise, your laughter spilling out in a way that made his chest ache with how much he loved you.

“Admit it,” he said, pinning your wrists lightly above your head as he hovered. “You’re obsessed with me.”

You grinned up at him, utterly unrepentant. “Guilty as charged.”

Letting out a soft laugh, Bucky released your wrists so he could cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Good,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Because I’m pretty damn obsessed with you too.”

Your smile softened, eyes shining as you reached up to pull him down for another kiss. This one was slower, sweeter, a quiet promise exchanged. When you both finally pulled apart, you gave him a playful shove.

“Alright, birthday boy,” you said, sitting up and smoothing your hands over his shirt. “Let me get your breakfast before it gets cold.”

As you moved to get up, he caught your wrist, tugging you back toward him. “Wait,” he said, nodding toward the wardrobe. “If you’re going out there, grab me another shirt.”

Your brows raised, a mischievous glint sparking, “Why?”

“Because I’m not walking around half-naked,” he said, his tone dry.

You crossed your arms, tilting your head as you gave him an appraising look. “Why not? You’ve got a drool-worthy body, Buck. Let me enjoy the view for a little longer.”

Bucky groaned, running a hand down his face as he tried not to laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” you countered, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his forehead before darting out of the room.

When you returned a few minutes later, balancing a tray of food, the smell of coffee and pancakes wafted through the air. Bucky’s stomach growled at the sight of it, and you grinned, setting the tray on the bed between you both.

“Breakfast in bed,” you announced, settling cross-legged beside him. “Made with love.”

Bucky gave you a soft smile, his heart swelling at the way your eyes lit up. “Thank you, doll.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you teased, picking up a fork and spearing a piece of pancake before holding it out to him. “Try it first.”

He raised an eyebrow but leaned forward to take the bite, his eyes widening slightly as the flavors hit his tongue. “Okay, that’s good,” he admitted, his tone slightly muffled.

“Told you,” you said smugly, popping a piece of pancake into your own mouth.

You ate together like that, trading bites and teasing each other in between sips of coffee. At one point, Bucky fed you a strawberry, laughing softly at the way you wrinkled your nose when the juice dripped onto your chin. You were radiant, completely in your element, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by how much he loved you.

“So,” he said finally, setting his fork down as he leaned back against the headboard. “What’s the plan for today?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Bucky groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why do I feel like I should be nervous?”

“Because you should be,” you teased, leaning over to steal another kiss. “Now, finish your breakfast so we can get started.”

He rolled his eyes but did as you asked, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. Whatever you had planned, he knew it was going to be perfect. Because you were perfect. And he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his day—and his life—with you by his side.

A hour later Bucky was leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping on the last of his coffee, his damp hair curling slightly at the edges from the shower. He was still trying to piece together why you had been so hyperactive all morning. Sure, it was his birthday week, but you were practically vibrating with energy, flitting from one room to the next like a woman on a mission. He’d never seen you this focused—and that was saying something.

“Bucky!” you voice called from the bedroom.

He pushed off the counter with a soft chuckle, setting his mug in the sink before making his way to you. “Yeah, doll?”

As soon as he stepped inside, you turned to him with those big, sparkling eyes that always managed to undo him. You were standing on you tippy toes, pointing toward the upper cupboard above the closet. “Can you get the suitcases down for me?”

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Suitcases? Why do you need those?”

You shot him a grin, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “We’re going on a trip! For your birthday.”

That made him pause. “A trip?” he repeated, his brow furrowing slightly as he stepped toward the cupboard. “What trip?”

“You’ll see,” you said, clearly enjoying his confusion. “But Steve’s coming too.”

Bucky froze, halfway through reaching for the suitcases. He turned back to look at you, an incredulous expression crossing his face. “Steve’s coming? Why is Steve coming on my birthday trip?”

“Because he’s your best friend,” you said matter-of-factly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And it’ll be fun.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with amusement. “You’re planning a trip for my birthday… and you invited Stevie?”

“Yes, Do you have a problem with that?” you asked, hands on your hips.

“Not exactly,” he muttered, grabbing the suitcases and setting them down on the bed. “But it’s a little weird, doll. Most people don’t bring a third-wheel on a romantic getaway.”

You rolled your eyes, already unzipping one of the suitcases. “Who said it’s a romantic getaway? Maybe it’s a fun getaway.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips. “You’re up to something.”

“Maybe,” you said coyly, grabbing a stack of neatly folded clothes from the dresser and dropping them into the suitcase. “Now stop asking questions and help me pack.”

Bucky sighed but couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged at his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

He stepped closer, pulling open the drawer with his T-shirts and folding a few into the second suitcase. As he worked, he watched you out of the corner of his eye, the way his brows furrowed in concentration and the little hums you let out as you double-checked your packing list.

“What’s with all the jewelry boxes?” he asked after a moment, nodding toward the growing pile of items you was slipping into a side pocket.

“Accessories,”

“And the electronics?”

“Essentials.”

He raised an eyebrow but decided not to push. You was obviously on a mission, and he wasn’t about to interrupt the flow.

By the time you added a small bag of expensive makeup to the pile, he couldn’t help himself. “Doll, are we going to a luxury fashion show or something? Because this is starting to look like a lot.”

You shot him a playful glare. “It’s not a lot. It’s exactly what we need. Now hush and fold your socks.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for his drawer. “Yes, dear.”

A few minutes later, Steve wandered into the room, followed by Sam, who was munching on an apple and looking entirely too amused by the situation.

“What’s all this?” Sam asked, gesturing to the suitcases.

“Packing,” you said brightly, tossing another pair of jeans into one of the bags. “We leave tomorrow.”

Sam’s brows lifted, and he exchanged a glance with Steve, who grinned knowingly. “You didn’t tell him yet, did you?” Steve asked, his tone almost gleeful.

“Of course not It’s a surprise.” you said.

Bucky crossed his arms, leveling everyone all with a suspicious look. “You three are up to something. I can feel it.”

Sam snorted. “You’re just now figuring that out?”

“Shut up, Wilson,” Bucky muttered, though his lips twitched with the hint of a smile.

Bucky couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth settle over him. The easy banter, the laughter, the way you kept sneaking glances at him as though you couldn’t help yourself—it all felt so… normal. And for someone who’d spent decades trapped in chaos and darkness, normal was a gift he didn’t take lightly.

“Alright,” you said finally, zipping up the last suitcase with a triumphant flourish. “I think we’re good to go.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You didn’t pack the kitchen sink yet.”

Rolling your eyes, you stepped closer to poke him in the chest. “You’re lucky I love you, Barnes.”

He grinned, catching your hand and pulling you into his arms. “I know,” he murmured, his voice softening. “And I love you too.”

Your smile brightened, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. It didn’t matter where he was going, all that mattered was you—the way you looked at him, the way you loved him, the way you made him feel like he was finally, truly home.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Sam called, breaking the moment with a dramatic sigh. “Save the mushy stuff for the trip.”

Bucky shot him a mock glare, but his hold on you didn’t loosen. Instead, he leaned down to press a quick kiss to your temple before turning back to the suitcases. Whatever you had planned, he knew one thing for sure: with you by his side, it was going to be perfect.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t a fan of surprises, but he was even less of a fan of being blindfolded, especially when it involved Steve holding his hand like they were reenacting some 1940s screwball comedy.

“Stevie,” he grumbled, his voice muffled by the blindfold. “If I trip and fall on my face, you’re paying for my dental work.”

Steve snorted, his grip firm as he guided Bucky down what felt like an endless corridor. “Relax, Buck. I’ve got you. You’ve been blindfolded for what? Five minutes?”

“Five minutes too long,” Bucky shot back, his tone dry. “I’m a trained assassin! I could probably tell you how many steps we’ve taken, what direction we’re headed, and what Sam’s chewing on back there.”

From behind, Sam made an exaggerated crunching sound. “It’s gum, genius. Cherry-flavored. Want some?”

“No,” Bucky growled, trying to keep his balance as Steve tugged him forward again. “What I want is to know what the hell is going on.”

“You’ll see soon enough,” your cheerful voice piped up from somewhere ahead. “Stop being so grumpy. It’s your birthday trip!”

“Grumpy is my default setting,” Bucky muttered, though his lips twitched with a small smile. It wasn’t like he could stay mad—not when your voice carried that spark of excitement, like you couldn’t wait to share whatever scheme you’d cooked up.

“Just keep walking, Barnes,” Steve said, a smirk evident in his tone. “You’ll thank us later.”

Bucky let out a long-suffering sigh but kept moving, his enhanced hearing picking up the faint hum of machinery in the distance. The sound grew louder as they walked, and he could feel the air shift slightly, the faintest vibration underfoot giving away their location.

“We’re headed toward the back of the compound,” he muttered.

“Man, can’t get anything past you, huh?” earning a chuckle from Sam.

“Nope,” Bucky deadpanned, though his focus sharpened as they came to a stop. He could hear Tony’s voice now, low and clipped, exchanging words with you. Something about suits?

“Here you go,” Tony said, his voice dripping with his usual snark. “Try not to break my suit, lovebirds.”

“Suit?” Bucky repeated, his brow furrowing beneath the blindfold. “What suit?”

“Hold still, Buck,” you said sweetly, and before he could respond, he felt something cool and metallic snap onto his wrist.

“What the—?” He flinched as the sensation spread, a sleek, nanotech suit wrapping around his body in an instant. It clung to him like a second skin, and he had to fight the instinct to rip it off. “Why the hell do I need a suit?” he questioned.

“Because you’re going to need it,” you said cryptically.

“Need it for what—”

“Goodbye, Nat!” you called, cutting him off as you waved toward the direction of Natasha’s voice.

“See you back in a jiffy,” Natasha replied, her tone amused.

Bucky froze. Jiffy? His enhanced brain worked through the context in seconds, piecing together the sounds, the cryptic comments, and the tech now covering his body. His heart stuttered.

“Doll,” he said slowly, his voice low and worried. “Are we—”

Before he could finish, the ground shifted beneath him, and his words were swallowed by the rush of noise and light.

The Quantum Realm.

The pull of it was disorienting, like being dragged through a vortex, the world around him blurring into streaks of color and sound. He instinctively tightened his grip on Steve’s hand, though he silently cursed the situation. Why did Steve get to hold his hand? He wanted it to be you.

Seconds—or maybe mini seconds—later, the chaos abruptly stopped, and Bucky felt himself thrown forward. He landed with a thud, groaning as the impact knocked the breath out of him.

“Get off of me, Buck,” Steve grumbled from beneath him.

“Not my fault you’re always in the way,” Bucky muttered, rolling off of Steve just as you collapsed onto both of them in a fit of laughter.

“This is the best thing ever,” you declared, clearly unbothered by the pile-up. “We did it!”

“Yeah, great,” Bucky said, sitting up and rubbing his head. “Where the hell are we?”

You scrambled to your feet, practically bouncing as you grabbed his hands and tugged him up. “You’ll see. Ready?”

He raised an eyebrow, his suspicions deepening. “Not until you tell me—”

“Nope!” you interrupted, reaching up to untie his blindfold. “No spoilers. Just… trust me, okay?”

Bucky sighed, his irritation melting under your excited voice. “Fine.”

As the blindfold fell away, the world came into focus, and Bucky felt his breath catch in his throat. His surroundings were achingly familiar—the cobblestone street, the faint smell of fresh bread from the bakery two doors down, the little white house with blue shutters and a squeaky front gate.

It was home. His home. The one from the 1940s, where his ma had lived with his sister.

He stared, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. Every detail was perfect, from the worn brick chimney to the hydrangeas blooming by the front porch. It was as though he’d stepped back in time, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“Doll,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Is this…?”

“Happy birthday, Bucky,” you said softly, your eyes shining with love. “Welcome home.”

His knees nearly gave out, the weight of the moment hitting him all at once. He turned to you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words. But there were none. What could he possibly say to this? To you?

Instead, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as his chest heaved with the effort of keeping his emotions in check. You wrapped your arms around him without hesitation, your head resting against his shoulder, holding him just as firmly.

“Thank you,” he choked out after a long moment, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, doll.”

Your smile was soft, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you pulled back to look at him. “You deserve this, Buck. All of it.”

For the first time in a long time, Bucky believed that. And as he turned back toward the house, his heart felt lighter than it had in decades.

The tiny gadget sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, its metallic surface catching the morning light streaming through the window. Winnie Barnes had made a habit of glancing at it every time she passed by, though she’d tried not to obsess over it. It had been a month since the young woman, with a quick smile and a strange, unworldly confidence—had appeared in her life, promising something that felt too impossible to believe.

But today, when Winnie glanced at the device, she froze. The tiny light on its surface was glowing green.

Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching as she set down the towel she’d been folding. Her fingers hovered above the gadget, trembling slightly, before she pressed it, feeling the faint warmth of the metal beneath her touch. It had turned green, just like you had said it would.

Her boys!

Winnie’s chest tightened, her heart racing as she stared at the device. You had promised—you’d promised to bring Steve & Bucky home, even if only for a little while. And now, after weeks of waiting and wondering if she’d been foolish to believe, it was happening.

A knock sounded at the door, sharp and purposeful, and Winnie’s breath hitched. For a moment, she couldn’t move, her legs frozen beneath her as her mind raced. Then, as if on instinct, she grabbed her apron and wiped her hands, hurrying toward the door. Her heart pounded with every step, anticipation and disbelief swirling together in a dizzying mix.

When she opened the door, her breath left her in a rush.

There he was. Her James.

He stood on the stoop, taller than she remembered, broader too, with his hair cut shorter than the boyish waves she’d last seen. He looked like a man now, with a shadow of a beard and eyes that carried a weight she couldn’t begin to imagine. But those were his eyes, her boy’s eyes, and they softened the moment they met hers.

“Ma?” Bucky said, his voice low and tentative, as if he were afraid to break whatever spell had brought him here.

Winnie’s hand flew to her mouth, tears already blurring her vision. “James,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Oh, my sweet boy…”

Before he could say another word, she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close. He stiffened for a moment, as though startled by the embrace, but then he melted into her, his arms coming up to hold her tightly. She felt his chest heave, the soft hitch of his breath against her shoulder, and she held him even tighter, as if letting go might make him disappear.

“You’re real,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “You’re here.”

“I’m here, Ma,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here.”

It was only then that she realized they weren’t alone. Just behind him, standing a step lower on the stoop, was another familiar face—Steven Rogers. He looked much the same as she remembered, though his shoulders seemed broader, his stance steadier, and there was a kindness in his gaze that she remembered and it made her heart ache.

“Steven,” she said, her voice breaking as she reached for him.

Steve smiled softly, stepping forward to wrap her in a hug that was just as firm, just as full of love. “Hi, Mrs. Barnes,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Stevie,” she said, pulling back to look at him, her hands cupping his face. “You look well.”

“So do you,” he said with a smile.

Her gaze flicked back to James, and she shook her head, tears streaming freely now. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you’re both here.”

James reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek, his hand trembling slightly. “It’s real, Ma. We’re here.”

Her gaze darted past them, searching for the one person who had made this miracle possible. “Where’s y/n?”

“Right here, Mrs. Barnes,” you called, stepping out from behind the boys with a wide grin. You were carrying a small backpack slung over one shoulder, your eyes sparkling with the same enthusiasm Winnie had seen the day she first met you.

Winnie let out a soft laugh, her hand pressing to her chest. “You did it,” she said, her voice filled with wonder. “You brought them home.”

“I told you I would,” you said, grin widening. “Happy early birthday to Jamie.”

James turned to you, his expression a mix of awe and gratitude. “You… you planned this on your own?”

You shrugged, your smile turning a bit sheepish. “Well, Steve and Sammy helped, but yeah. I thought you might like to see your mom again.”

Bucky stared at you for a long moment, his mouth opening as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he stepped forward and pulled you into a hug, his grip firm and unyielding. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low and filled with emotion. “Thank you, doll.”

Your arms wrapped around him without hesitation, your head resting against his chest as you smiled softly. “You’re welcome, Buck.”

Winnie watched the exchange, her heart swelling as she took in the sight of her son standing there, alive and whole, surrounded by people who clearly loved him. It was more than she could have hoped for, more than she dared to dream.

“Come inside,” she said, her voice trembling with excitement. “Come in, all of you. I’ll make tea.”

James smiled, his arm still draped around your shoulders as he turned to follow her inside. “Tea sounds great, Ma.”

Winnie watched the three of them file into her modest kitchen, her chest so full it ached. James was here. Her James. He was alive, and standing right there in front of her. She’d spent so many months mourning the boy she thought she’d lost to the war, but now she couldn’t stop staring at the man he’d become. He moved like someone who carried too much weight on his shoulders, but there was something else in his posture, too—something lighter, steadier. A calmness she didn’t quite recognize but found herself grateful for.

“Ma, you don’t have to do all this,” James said, his voice soft as he reached for the teapot she was preparing. “We can handle it.”

“Don’t you ‘Ma’ me, James Barnes,” she shot back, swatting his hand away. “You just sit down and let me take care of my boys.”

Bucky blinked at her, clearly startled, before a small, sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And you,” Winnie continued, turning her attention to Steven Rogers, who was already leaning against the counter. “I’m not above putting you to work, Steven. You’ve got all that super-soldier strength—bring the bags in before your friend over there starts yelling.”

She nodded toward you, currently perched on the armrest of the couch, rummaging through a stack of photo albums you’d pulled from the shelf.

“I already yelled,” you said cheerfully, waving a hand toward the door. “You all just didn’t hear me. Stevie, come on, move those muscles. Make yourself useful.”

Steve rolled his eyes but pushed off the counter with a resigned sigh. “I liked you better when you were quieter,” he muttered, as he headed toward the door.

“You’ve never known me to be quiet, Rogers,” you called after him, your grin widening.

Winnie couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head as she turned back to the teapot. “She’s got quite the mouth on her, doesn’t she?”

“She always does,” James said, though there was no mistaking the fondness in his tone. His gaze followed you as you hopped up from the couch and began poking through a drawer, muttering to yourself about “how vintage everything is.”

“She’s… something else,” Winnie murmured, her lips curving into a small smile.

James smiled at that, his expression softening. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, Ma.”

The words hit Winnie like a wave, her hands stilling as she poured the tea. She looked up at her son, her heart swelling at the way his eyes softened when they landed on you. It wasn’t just affection she saw there—it was something deeper, something that made her throat tighten with emotion.

“She loves you,” Winnie said quietly, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. “I can see it.”

James nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. “Yeah. She does.”

There was something unspoken in his tone, something heavy that Winnie didn’t miss. She set the teapot down, stepping closer to him and placing a hand on his arm. “And you love her.”

It wasn’t a question, but James nodded again, his gaze dropping to the floor. “More than I ever thought I could,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “She… she makes everything feel worth it, Ma.”

Winnie squeezed his arm, her heart aching with both pride and sorrow. She didn’t need to ask to know what he meant. She’d seen it in your eyes the day the you had come to her door, explaining everything James had been through—the torture, the brainwashing, the years stolen from him by Hydra. It was a kind of pain no mother could bear to imagine, and yet here he was, standing before her, whole and loved and somehow still her James.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I always have been.”

James looked up at her, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “Thanks, Ma.”

The moment was interrupted by a loud clatter from the living room, followed by your unmistakable voice. “This drawer is just socks! Who keeps a whole drawer of socks?”

“They’re not just socks,” Winnie called back, her tone amused. “They’re darning socks!”

“Darning socks?” you repeated, appearing in the doorway with one of the socks in question draped over your hand like a puppet. “What even is that?”

Winnie laughed, shaking her head as she reached for the teapot again. “It’s what we do when socks get holes in them. You’d mend them instead of throwing them out.”

You blinked, clearly baffled. “You can… fix socks?”

“People in this era did,” Winnie said, chuckling at the younger woman’s expression. “Though I doubt you’re one of them.”

“Definitely not,” you said, grinning as you tossed the sock back into the drawer. “But that’s cool. Vintage socks. Got it.”

Steve chose that moment to reappear, a suitcase in each hand and an expression of mild annoyance on his face. “Happy now?” he asked, glaring playfully at you.

“Ecstatic,” you said, beaming at him. “You’re such a gentleman, Stevie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve muttered, setting the bags down by the door. “Just don’t ask me to do anything else.”

Winnie watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and affection. It was chaos, but it was her chaos, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. For the first time in what felt like forever, her house was filled with laughter and life and love. And as she looked around at the people who had made it possible, she couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

“Alright,” she said, clapping her hands together as she stepped into the living room. “Who’s ready for tea?”

“Me!” you called, plopping down onto the couch and kicking your feet up. “But only if there’s cookies.”

Winnie smiled, her heart full as she nodded. “There’s always cookies, sweetheart.”

James met her gaze from across the room, his expression soft and filled with gratitude. She nodded back, her silent promise unspoken but understood: they were home, and for as long as she had them, she’d make sure they never felt alone again.

To be continued….

[tgmsunmontue]

From the top 6/6

IceMav, Explicit, (background Hangster who are already established). Set post-TGM. (No dead Ice obviously).

CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE

PART SIX

                Ice is taller than him, but they’re equally broad and thick. Ice’s height only gives the illusion that he’s bigger. However hidden beneath is also a lot of coiled strength and Ice has never used it on him before, not like this. He finds himself boxed in against his workstation, the hard ridge of the bench digging into his back, Ice pressed against his front, his hands on both of Pete’s hips and holding him firmly in place. It makes his breathing quicken.

                “Mav… Pete…”

                Pete likes the way Ice says his name now, like he’s finally given himself permission to use Pete, and his voice sounds rough, broken, worshipful even. He angles his head and slides his mouth over Ice’s, reaches up to run has hands through his hair and hold him in place while Pete kisses him. Tom isn’t trying to move away though, is pressing back into him like he wants nothing more than to be in the same space that Pete is currently in.

                “You done this before?” Pete asks, because it’s one thing to skirt around the subject through messages back and forth, Ice an expert at writing words and saying things without giving anything away. He’s never lied to him though and Pete knows he’s not about to start.

                “Yes. Not in a long time though. Not with someone who… who matters to me.”

                “Mmm. Yeah. Me too. Just… we don’t have to… just want to make you feel good.”

                “Yeah, I know, I just… fuck. I’ve been thinking about it okay? Want… want you to…”

                “Yeah?”

                “Yes.”

                “Bed’s not just there for decoration. Come on…”

                Ice follows close behind him as they make their way up to his new bedroom, the one he’s refused to let him use. He turns toward Ice and reaches for his hand, urges him close even though there’s not more than inches between them. He’ll never admit it, but his hands feel shaky as he unbuttons Ice’s shirt, pushes it off his shoulders. Doesn’t think Ice notices because he’s intent on undressing Pete which is something he’s totally on board with. Ice kisses every part of his body as he takes the clothing off and when he shoves his underwear down he shouldn’t be surprised at the kiss Tom places on the head of his cock.

                Then Ice is kissing him again and he wants to look and touch everywhere, have Ice’s hands all over him and he urges him toward the bed, wants to do exactly what they were doing this morning, but naked and with added orgasms. Fortunately Ice seems completely on board with his unspoken plan, shifting to lie on the bed on his side, head propped up on his hand as he watches Pete move closer, knee walking up the bed a little awkwardly.

                Ice’s skin is pale all over, no tan lines like Pete has himself, his career taking him inside. The hands though catch his eye, one wrapped around his cock as Ice strokes himself, eyes on Pete, intense in a way that he recognizes, that feeling of electricity zaps through him again.

                “Come here…” Ice says, his voice rough and Pete almost falls on him in his eagerness to comply, catches himself with a grin, face inches away and he kisses him with a laugh.

                “I’m here.”

                He settles on his side, facing Ice, feels long fingers curl around his cock and he groans, hips jerking into the pressure. His own fingers trace along the length of Ice’s erection and he wraps his fingers and strokes before pulling back, reminded that he went out and bought supplies for exactly this reason.

                “Lube?”

                “Fancy…”

                “Shut up…” Pete mutters playfully, and he doesn’t want to move away, because it’s going to mean Ice taking his hands off him and it’s taken years to get here.

                “Get your lube… I’ve always just used lotion.”

                “Mmm. Explains why your hands are nice and soft…”

                That earns him an eye roll and a slight shove, but as he moves to grab the bottle he feels a hand grab his ass, fingers digging into the muscle and his cock jumps again. Then Ice is taking the lube from him, pumping some out into his palm, stroking himself, then reaching for Pete’s cock.

                “Come here…” Ice repeats, and this time he’s already close, settles in close and slides their mouths together, feels Ice wrap his hand around them both, jerking them together, adjusting his grip a few times before he seems.

                “God… your hands…” Pete moans against Ice’s mouth, whole body jerking toward him and he doesn’t miss the way Ice’s mouth twitches with amusement. They lie facing each other, thighs slotted together, eyes lingering, Ice’s hand wrapped around their cocks, breath intermingling and the air between them is warm and humid. They’re both shifting and grinding, into Tom’s hand, against each other, kissing spit-slick lips and licking over the delicate skin of each other’s necks, nipping at earlobes and to finally have this after weeks of knowing he can but years of denying it is overwhelming.

                “Mav… Pete…”

                “Yeah, yeah. Right here… fuck.”

…            …            …

                Maverick is gorgeous. Tom’s always thought so. He can’t believe that his touch is not only wanted but is so clearly being enjoyed by Pete, his eyes dark with arousal, mouth hanging open like he can’t catch his breath and Tom bites at the hinge of his jaw, grips harder. Would worry that it’s too hard except for the hitch in Pete’s breath and jerk of his hips into the pressure. He’d been worried that they would be awkward with one another, that they’d maybe start off slower.

                He should have known better. He’s dealing with Maverick, and it’s working in his favor, just jumping in feet-first with no care for the consequences. Or rather, so sure that the outcome is going to be a positive one. He’s quietly confident of that too, can’t imagine them slipping back into solely friendship now that they’ve introduced this into the equation. Ice. Tom. Close. God. Please. Faster. Just a little… please all panted against his neck and he shouldn’t be surprised that Mav likes it fast, his body almost vibrating against Tom’s as his hips jerk, thrust and twitch, shoving his cock into Tom’s grip.

                He let’s go of them then, quickly grips Pete’s cock again, bites at his bottom lip as Mav whines at the brief cessation of pressure. But with only Pete’s cock in his hand he can go harder and faster and he shifts so it’s a bit more comfortable, his hand able to move more easily and he resumes the stroking, faster, his hand a blur and Pete’s breath is coming like he’s running, eyes now squeezed shut, bottom lip trembling and Tom doesn’t know where to look, what he wants to watch most.

                “Come on Pete…” Tom breathes, his voice sounds rough and he feels the kick of Pete’s body, the sudden slick sensation of come on his fingers and he loosens his grip, feels Pete’s entire body shudder against him, breath coming in loud pants. He looks down between them, suddenly wants nothing more to come, wrap his hand covered in Pete’s come around his own cock so he does exactly that.

                “Damn that’s a pretty sight…”

                He groans, knowing that Pete is watching him, shifting to get a closer look; but then Pete is sucking one of his nipples into his mouth and Tom comes with a shout, shuddering through the intensity of it and very glad he’s already horizontal.

                “Fuck…” he manages, and Pete is laughing against his chest and Tom ducks his head, bumps it against Pete’s. He looks up and then Tom can kiss him again and it’s sweeter. But he also feels sweaty, and sticky and Pete must be feeling the same.

                “Did you upgrade the shower as well?”

                Pete’s frozen and he has his answer right there, because a new kitchen and bed are great, but an inside shower is apparently a step too far.

                “I’ll, uh, get on that right away…”

                “You’re lucky I love you,” Tom says with a grin, and it’s a little bit of a relief knowing that despite everything that Mav is still Mav.

                The outside shower isn’t bad, perfectly functional and the wooden screens offering enough privacy for them to shower together. Neither of them can stop smiling, laughter bubbling out occasionally and he feels lighter and happier than he has in years. They’re clean, dry, changed into comfortable clothes he’s glad he had the foresight to bring with him. Although he notes that an entire side of the dresser is filled with his own clothes and he wonders exactly when Pete stole them and relocated them here.

                “Thought you were going to make me dinner or was that just a ploy to get me into bed?”

                Pete snorts and bites playfully at his shoulder.

                “No, I plan to cook… Penny gave me instructions.”

…            …            …

                He feels Ice’s huff of breath and realizes mentioning one of his exes is probably a faux pas, but it’s Ice. He knows every embarrassing detail of his life and relationships, some that Pete himself has probably forgotten. Plus he knows Penny and Ice are friends as well. He moves around the kitchen, accepts the glass of wine the Ice pours him and Penny was right. It will take twenty minutes. Huh.

                “We going to talk about it?” Ice asks and Pete turns from watching the potatoes going around in the air fryer. It’s kind of mesmerizing.

                “About what?”

                “How it took Jake and Bradley meddling for us… for us to…” Ice starts, hand waving between them, frown growing on his face at his apparent inability to find words. Pete grins, steps in close and wraps his arms around him.

                “We’ll figure out a way to thank them.”

                “Mmm. Okay.”

                “That’s… that’s all you want to say?” Pete asks, because he’d sort of expected a far more detailed and in-depth conversation, something akin to a debrief.

                “What else is there to say? Best possible outcome I can imagine.”

                Oh.

                “I love you,” Pete says, and he’s never going to get sick of seeing the small little smile that his words invoke on Ice’s face. He kisses him, sneaks his fingers under his t-shirt to stroke at bare skin.

                “Love you too. Love you more if you actually feed me…”

                As if on cue Ice’s stomach rumbles, making them both laugh. Pete shakes his head, gives him a little shove which is completely ineffective but he goes about finishing up making dinner. It’s exactly what he’s always wanted, the quiet companionship of someone who knows all his flaws and loves him anyway. They clean up together, have a quick game of chess where he limits Ice to ten seconds per move, and Ice still wins.

                Then they’re preparing for bed, and it’s a different type of intimacy but not unfamiliar at all with their years of friendship between them. There are soft touches and lingering fingers, looks which cannot be construed as anything other than love and desire and yeah, he’s in love with his best friend and he loves him back.

…            …            …

                He wakes up stiff. That’s not unusual these days, but he’s stiff in places that aren’t usually stiff and he groans at the discomfit. He opens his eyes to find Ice already awake, closing his book and looking at him with concern.

                “You okay?”

                “Yeah… just… my body isn’t used to the kind of workout we put it through last night.”

                “Mmm. Mine either. Good mattress though. I already got up and stretched a little.”

                “Yeah. Figured it was a good investment.”

                “See. You can forward plan.”

                He opens his mouth to object but Ice is grinning, reaching to pull him in for a kiss and yeah, that’s a much better option.

…            …            …

                He is quietly content, happy in a way he hadn’t realized was even a thing. His relationship with Maverick feels… well. Somehow brand new and fragile, but also deep and foundational, integral to his very being. All they’ve really done is add sex to the mix, and he’s enjoying that plenty, refusing to dwell on years lost. He isn’t going to lose his future to past regrets.

                His phone vibrates on his desk and he looks at the message, because it’s close enough to lunch that he’s sort of expecting Mav to be joining him, his presence in and around his office no longer questioned, which is probably just as well. Rather than a message from Maverick through their usual app it’s from the one that Jake set up, when he was pretending to be messaging Pete and not know exactly who it was he was talking with.

>>Please go outside and look up toward the northwest.

>>You have five minutes.

                “Oh, for…” he grumbles, because this is giving him flashbacks to when Pete used to steal planes. Of course, now that he has his own he’s gotten better about that and he hopes Pete isn’t stupid enough to fly the Mustang into military airspace. He wonders why Pete has chosen to message him using that app, is thumbing out a message asking exactly that when he hears the hum of several planes approaching and he looks up to see five prop-planes.

                Then they start releasing puffs of smoke and he realizes they’re sky typing, and he can already make out the first two letters and he has to remind himself to breathe. Wonders if Mav is up there in one of the planes. Wonders when the hell he learnt how to fucking sky type. Not that he’d put it past him, or is even surprised, because as the letters continue to appear he’s reminded that this type of over-the-top romantic gesture is exactly Maverick’s style.

                MARRY ME?

                “So… what do you say?”

                Tom startles, turns toward the sound and Mav is kneeling, that can’t be good for his knees on the asphalt, there’s a ring in his hand and he’s holding it up, clearly waiting for Tom to answer.

                “I think there’s no point in waiting. We know each other in all the best and worst ways. I can’t imagine anything better than being married to my best friend.”

                Tom swallows, doesn’t trust himself to speak so he simply nods, knows Mav understands because he’s standing with only a slight wince, slipping the ring onto Tom’s finger and giving him a surprisingly quick and chaste kiss before pulling back. Then he hears the applause and he turns to see the entire personnel population from the building there watching, and now they’re applauding. He’s very grateful it was exactly the quick-soft kiss it was now, and he does his best to ignore Mav’s shit eating grin as people start coming forward to give them their congratulations. Of course they all know, Pete would have had to get clearance for such a grand gesture.

                “Congratulations Tom. Now he’s your problem both professionally and personally.”

                Tom laughs.

                “He always was.”

[sunwonkism]

A love that waited

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ Synopsis: After confessing at literally the worst time to Jungwon, you both made a promise to each other that in 3 years, if you still want one another, you will meet up in the same place you first met him.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ Pairings: fem!reader x Jungwon

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ Genre: right person, wrong time

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ wc: 2.4k

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ Warnings: implied bsfs, angst, fluff, cursing, not proofread much

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ a/n: I rlly wanted to finish this for Jungwon's birthday, but it feels shitty🧍‍♀️this is inspired by this yt short from mr.spicygremlin! https://youtube.com/shorts/FXGZp_CDqj8?si=sWdKLUQUCs1K6Gsu I love her POVs and enjoy watching them!

January 29th, 2023

You were running in the airport, checking your watch every 5 minutes, trying to get to Jungwon’s gate before he got on his plane.

god, why did you only realize your feelings for him just 2 hours before he leaves for Singapore?

You stopped running to take a short break, panting to catch your breath. You checked your watch to see how much time you have left.

10:40am

His boarding closes in 10 minutes.

“Fuck” you muttered.

Where the hell is gate 12?

You saw a security guard patrolling the area and decided to ask him. “Excuse me” you tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to look at you before you spoke again. “Could you tell me where gate 12 is? The person at the front desk said it’s around this area, and I’ve been looking for it for the past 30 minutes.”

He simply gestured to the hallway behind you. “Just a 10 minute walk, you’ll be able to see a big sign that says the gate number.”

You thanked the guard before sprinting in the direction he pointed at.

You didn’t even need to look for the gate number, you spotted him almost instantly. He was on his phone, wearing the bright orange hoodie he loved so much.

“Jungwon!” You shouted, running over to him.

He was getting his ticket verified when he realized he recognized the voice calling out to him. He looked up to check, only to see that it was none other than you.

“Y/n?” He asked, confused. “What are you doing here?”

You stopped to stand in front of him, panting. “Sorry…could…could you give us just 5 minutes please?” You breathed out to the staff member attending to him.

“Only till the line ends.” She briefly responded, attending to the rest of the passengers while lightly pushing Jungwon so he wouldn't hold the line up. And to give you more time for whatever you needed to say to him.

You pulled Jungwon away from the line, to give you both a tiny bit of privacy.

Jungwon was the first to speak up. “So…why are you here? Don’t you have a date with Niki in like, an hou-“

“I’m in love with you.” You said as soon as you caught your breath.

He looked taken aback, you could tell he wasn’t expecting that. “What?” He asked, with confusion and shock written on his face

“I’m in love with you” you repeated. “I had to tell you before you leave. I felt bad when I just left you there after you confessed to me during our last hangout. A-and when you kissed me…I-“. You took a deep breath before continuing.

“The truth is, I was stunned when you told me that you loved me, and ran away when we kissed because I was afraid. I wanted Niki but I also wanted you. I didn’t mean to avoid you when you came to my house…I was just terrified because I wasn’t even sure what to do. I did some self reflection about it and I only realized this morning that…my love for Niki will never compare to the love I have for you. I had to tell you that while I still had the chance.” You confessed.

It was silent for a few minutes before he spoke. “Promise me something” he softly said.

“Anything” you replied, with hope in your eyes.

He held your hands in his before speaking again. “3 years from now, if you still want me. Meet me at the park where we first met at 12pm. You know, where I chased Maeumi down because he kept following you?”

You softly chuckled at the memory. “Okay, I will.”

You heard someone cough from beside you. You turned to look to see it was the staff member calling both of your attention. “Times up, you need to enter the plane now sir,” she said.

Before you can even say a word, you feel Jungwon pulling you into a tight hug.

“I will never forget you, okay? You will always hold a special place in my heart. So don’t forget about me, please.” he pleaded.

You hugged him back, equally as tight. “I could never forget about you, you’re my best friend”. You pulled away from the hug, opting to hold his hands before continuing. “And the first man I fell in love with” you finished, with a small sad smile on your face.

He was about to say something when the staff member called for his attention once again, signaling that he had to board the plane now.

He squeezed your hands before letting them go, silently hoping it won’t be the last time he’ll do it, before following the worker.

He turned around to make eye contact with you one last time, waving his hand at you. You waved back, watching him disappear into the bridge that leads to the entrance of the plane.

That was the last time you saw him.

3 years later…

You woke up to the sound of your alarm clock blaring loudly. You groaned before turning it off, laying back on your bed, already dreading the day ahead.

You were thinking how you really didn't want to go to work today when you heard your roommate, aka your best friend, scream from the other side of your door.

“Y/n wake up right now!!! Do you know what day it is??” yunjin shouted while continuously knocking on your door.

You sat up on your bed with your brows furrowed, utterly confused about what she's saying.

“Yunjin, what on earth are you talking about? It's a Saturday, and I have work?” you replied back to her while going to open the door so that she'll stop the annoying knocking on your door.

You opened your bedroom door to face yunjin before she spoke again.

“Y/n, you have absolutely no idea what today is? None at all?” She asked again with her hands on her hips.

You shook your head.

Yunjin sighed before pointing to the calendar hanging in your room. “Check the date, now.”

“Okay, geez” you mumbled. You walked over to your calendar to see a big red circle drawn around the number 29th of January, with bold letters reading “meet jungwon at the park at 2pm”.

Oh. My. God.

Today is that day?!?!?

You whipped your head around to look for a clock to see it's currently…10am?!?!?

“Shit, I knew I shouldn't have stayed up watching that tv show” you thought.

“I'm gonna be late” you muttered, before dashing to your wardrobe, picking something good to wear.

But then you remembered, you have work today.

“Noo” you whined.

“What is it?” Yunjin asked. You forgot she was still standing there.

You turned to her with a pout on your face. “I've used up all my leaves this month, if I ask for one more I might get fired.”

“Ahh” yunjin mouthed, before speaking. “Well, I know it's supposed to be MY day off today, but then I remembered your meetup with him today. So being the nice friend I am, l covered for you today. Thank me later”.

You squealed before hugging her tightly. “Oh yun thank you thank you thank you! I definitely owe you on this one.”

“Yeah yeah, don't waste anymore time or else you're going to be late.” She replied before pulling away from your hug.

“I'll be outside if you need anything” she said while walking away, leaving the room to give you privacy to change.

You looked back at your wardrobe and just decided to wear an outfit that never lets you down.

You quickly changed into the clothes and went to your vanity to fix up your appearance. Making sure you look the absolute best.

You took one last look at the mirror, making sure you look amazing before heading out of your room to put your shoes on.

“You're not gonna eat anymore?” Yunjin asked, chewing on a piece of bread as you walked past her.

“No time yun it's…” you trailed off, checking your watch.

“11am?!?, I'm so gonna be late” you said while rushing to put on your shoes.

After making sure you have everything you need, you grabbed your keys before going to the front door.

“Bye yun! I'll be going now!” You said, saying goodbye to yunjin.

“Good luck y/nie! Go get him!” You heard her reply, before closing and locking the front door.

“Thanks so much!” You said to the cab driver, giving him your payment before climbing out of the car.

You checked your watch to see it's 11:50, happy that you arrived at the park just in time. “Not bad” you thought.

As you were walking further into the park, you decided to spend the extra 10 minutes thinking about the current situation you're in.

You haven't really spoken to Jungwon in a long time. You lost contact with him when he started becoming busy because of school. When you tried texting him again, you realized he changed his number.

You're not even sure if he still remembers the promise you two made 3 years ago.

You've been having a lot of doubts about this meetup for a long time now. The only reason why you came is because you knew Jungwon is a person who hates breaking his promises.

But it doesn't mean he'll be like that forever.

What if he forgot? What if he doesn't want you anymore? What if he found someone better in Singapore? All kinds of bad thoughts raced through you as you arrived at the exact spot you first met him.

You checked your watch again. 12pm it reads.

“Right on time” you murmured.

Right now all you could do was wait.

This could go two ways. 1, he shows up and you two get your happy ending. Or 2, he doesn't show up, and you just wasted your time waiting for him.

Or 3, he shows up, solely just to let you know he doesn't want you anymore because he can't text it to you.

But from what's happening right now, you think number 2 is currently happening.

It's been 10 minutes since you started waiting for him. You were currently sitting on a nearby bench because your legs started hurting from standing too long.

You wondered if Jungwon got the place wrong, but you knew he couldn't. Or were you just in denial?

20 minutes passed by and he still hasn't showed up. You felt tears well up in your eyes. He forgot, or found someone long ago and couldn't care to tell you.

Just when you're about to get up and leave, thinking you wasted a whole 2 hours rushing over here and yunjin’s day off. Someone stepped in front of you and spoke.

“Am I late?” The person panted, sounding really out of breath.

You looked up to see who the person was, only to see the same man you've been waiting for 20 minutes (and 3 years) for.

He no longer had the dark brown hair you loved to run your fingers through. Now he had platinum blonde hair, which suited him really well.

You always told him how you thought he'd look good in blonde hair before he left.

“Jungwon” you whispered. “You showed up”. You were in utter disbelief that the man you loved and waited for so long is currently standing right in front of you. You felt like crying.

You hadn't realized a tear fell from your eye until Jungwon wiped it for you.

“Shh” he whispered. “It's okay, I'm here now” he said, before pulling you into a tight hug.

As you hugged him back, you let the dam break. Tears were flowing freely from your eyes. You were full on sobbing against his chest, soaking his shirt.

You two were like that for a few minutes before speaking.

“I..I th-thought you for…forgot” you said in between sniffles.

Jungwon pulled away to wipe your years. “I thought you knew I don't break my promises. Did you already forget?” He asked with a sad, but warm smile.

“I just thought…maybe you found someone else…I haven't spoken to you in months…it's hard not to doubt you know?” You mumbled, but clear enough for Jungwon to understand you.

Jungwon held your hands in his, something he deeply missed doing before speaking again.

“Don't you remember what I promised you pretty? ‘If you still want me. Meet me at the park where we first met’, that's what I said, didn't I?”

“I already decided it's you who I wanted 3 years ago. But I didn't want to start our relationship with long distance. And I wasn't sure if you really loved me or if you just said it out of the blue you know..” he trailed off.

He went back to caressing your cheeks with both of his hands.

“Thank you for choosing me. You have absolutely no idea how much I was stressing over today.” He said with a happy grin on his face.

You laughed before responding. “You have no idea how much I worried over this meet up too.” You said with a soft smile. “I have so many things I want to tell you. You missed out on so much stuff while you were away.”

He took one of your hands in his, swinging it around. He was slightly dragging you, signaling you to come along. “Oh yeah? How about you tell me over lunch? Where do you want to eat?” He asked.

You smiled, walking after him. “Sure, I heard there's a popular restaurant just 2 blocks away from here…”.

Divider: @toastray

[inseobts]

Love is a Disease?!

luffy x fem!reader

luffy keeps dreaming about you and ask chopper to cure him...

words count: 2.7k

tags: fluffy, sfw, soft, humour

masterlist || ko-fi

Luffy jolts awake, staring at the wooden ceiling of the Sunny’s sleeping quarters. His heart is pounding, his face is warm, and his lips are still curled into a goofy grin.

It happened again.

Another dream about you.

This time, you were sitting beside him on the deck, your laughter ringing in his ears. You looked happy, so happy that he could feel it deep in his chest, like sunlight spreading through his whole body. And then, right before he woke up, you had leaned in just a little too close, your breath tickling his cheek.

Luffy groans, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face into his pillow “What the hell is this?” he mutters.

It’s been happening for days. No, weeks. Every single time he sleeps, you’re there. Sometimes you’re just talking with him, sometimes you’re laughing, sometimes you’re standing too close and making him feel… weird. A good kind of weird, but also a confusing one.

He sits up abruptly, gripping his hat “This ain’t normal” he decides.

Something must be wrong with him.

Luffy storms into Chopper’s office, his arms swinging wildly “Chopper! Fix me!”

The little reindeer jumps, nearly knocking over a stack of medical books “What?! What happened? Are you sick?!”

“I think so!” Luffy exclaims, flopping onto the examination table like a dying man.

Chopper gasps, immediately switching into doctor mode “Where does it hurt? Do you feel dizzy? Are you gonna die?!” He starts pressing his hooves against Luffy’s forehead, checking for a fever.

Luffy grumbles “It’s not like that… It’s weirder.”

Chopper frowns “What do you mean ‘weirder’?”

Luffy hesitates. He doesn’t really want to explain it, saying it out loud just makes it sound dumb.

Chopper crosses his tiny arms “Luffy, I can’t treat you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong!”

Luffy groans, throwing his arms over his face “Fine! It’s my dreams!”

Chopper blinks “Your dreams?”

“Yeah!” Luffy groans again, louder this time, like he’s in pain “Every time I sleep, I dream about Y/N!”

Chopper tilts his head “…And?”

Luffy lifts his arms just enough to peek at Chopper “What do you mean ‘and’?! That’s gotta be some kind of sickness, right?!”

Chopper strokes his chin, thinking hard “Hmmm… are they scary dreams?”

“No.”

“Are they nightmares?”

“No! They’re nice!”

Chopper blinks again “…Then what’s the problem?”

Luffy sits up, frustrated “The problem is that I keep dreaming about her! Every single time I close my eyes!” He grabs Chopper’s shoulders and shakes him “Chopper, what if I caught a disease that makes me think about her all the time?!”

Chopper wiggles out of Luffy’s grasp, landing on the floor with a small thud “I’ve never heard of that before…” He rushes over to his bookshelves and starts flipping through pages. Luffy watches him, arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently.

After a few minutes, Chopper sighs, rubbing the back of his head. “There’s nothing here about dreaming about someone too much.”

Luffy groans, tired “Then what do I do?!”

Chopper scratches his head “Uhh… maybe you should avoid y/n for a while? Just in case...”

Luffy gasps “In case of what? What?! That’s not a cure!”

Chopper huffs “Well, I don’t know what else to do! But if seeing her all the time in your dreams is making you feel weird, maybe staying away will help! If you don't see her maybe you won't dream abour her...”

Luffy pouts “That sounds stupid.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Luffy doesn’t.

So he groans again, dramatically flopping back onto the table “Fine… I’ll try.”

That night, as he stares at the ceiling of his hammock, he tells himself that avoiding you will be easy.

Spoiler: It won’t be.

The next morning, Luffy’s grand plan begins.

Step one: Avoid y/n.

Simple, right? He just has to stay out of your way. No sitting next to you at meals, no talking to you, and definitely no falling asleep near you. Easy...

Or so he thinks.

“Luffy! Come help me carry these crates!” your voice calls from the deck.

His whole body freezes. You’re standing there, waving him over with a bright smile. Normally, he’d rush to help, no hesitation. But today? Today, he’s a man with a mission.

“Uh… I can’t!” he blurts out, spinning on his heel.

You blink “What? Why not?”

Luffy panics. He didn’t think this far ahead. He blurts out the first excuse that pops into his head.

“Because… um… I forgot how to carry things!”

Silence.

You stare at him, eyebrows raised “…You forgot... how to carry things?...”

“Yup!” He gives you a thumbs-up and then bolts in the opposite direction before you can question him further.

You watch him go, utterly confused “What the hell was that?”

Avoiding you turns out to be way harder than Luffy thought. You’re everywhere. Laughing with Nami, training with Zoro, helping Sanji in the kitchen. No matter where he goes, there’s a chance of running into you.

And Chopper, being the loyal doctor he is, decides to follow his advice too.

Which means he’s avoiding you too.

And both of them? They are horrible at it.

Every time you walk into a room, Luffy suddenly has “something important to do” and dashes off like his life depends on it. If you try to talk to Chopper, he lets out a nervous squeak and scurries away like a scared animal.

After a few days of this, you’ve had enough.

“Usopp” you huff, plopping down beside him “Something weird is going on with Luffy and Chopper.”

Usopp looks up from the gadget he’s working on “Weird how?”

“They keep avoiding me” You frown, crossing your arms “Luffy runs away every time I talk to him, and Chopper acts like I have the plague. Did I do something?”

Usopp snorts ���Nah, if you did something, Luffy would just spill it. He’s a terrible liar.”

“That’s what makes it weird!” you groan “He totally avoids talking to me. He’s never acted like this before. Same goes for Chopper...”

Then you see Chopper, Luffy and Nami going out the kitchen and you norrow your eyes pointing them to Usopp "Look, they are there chatting normally. Now call them over here"

Usopp looks at you confused but interested, "HEY LUFFY, CHOPPER, I NEED YOU OVER HERE!! LOOK AT THIS" he yells showing them the thing he was working on until now.

The two look at him and their faces turn so excited to know about Usopp's new invention. This until they see you next to Usopp, then they both look scared...

"Oh sorry, I forgot I had something very important to do!!" Luffy says with a fake smile before running away.

Chopper looks at him and starts running behind him "LUFFY WAIT FOR ME!!"

In all this Nami shrugs in confusion and walks away.

Usopp turns back to you and taps his chin “Hmm… They’re hiding totally something, but what could it be?”

Your eyes narrow “We need to find out before I get crazy”

And just like that, a plan is born.

Later that day, Usopp corners Chopper in the infirmary.

“Oi, Chopper” he says casually, leaning against the wall. “What’s up with you and Luffy?”

Chopper nearly jumps out of his fur “W-What do you mean? Nothing’s up! Nothing at all!”

Usopp smirks. Terrible liar.

“Oh, really?” he presses “Because y/n thinks you guys are acting weird. And I agree.”

Chopper sweats “I-It’s not weird! We’re just… uh… busy!”

“Busy avoiding y/n?”

The poor reindeer lets out a strangled noise “N-No! We’re just—!”

He stops himself too late.

Usopp grins like a predator catching its prey “Ah-ha! So you are avoiding her.”

Chopper claps his hooves over his mouth “I-I didn’t say that!”

“But you did.” Usopp leans in “And now I gotta know why.”

Chopper squirms “I… I promised Luffy I wouldn’t say…”

“Ohh, so it’s Luffy’s problem?” Usopp’s grin gets wider “Now I really need to know.”

Chopper shakes his head rapidly “No! I-I can’t tell you! A doctor-patient relationship is built on trust!”

Usopp sighs dramatically “That’s too bad. Guess I’ll just tell y/n that you both hate her now.”

“WHAT?! No, we don’t hate her!” Chopper wails.

“Then why are you acting like she’s a ghost haunting the ship?”

Chopper hesitates. His little hooves tremble “I-It’s because… because…”

“…Because what?”

Chopper takes a deep breath. Then, in a panicked rush, he blurts—

“Luffy keeps dreaming about Y/N and thinks it’s a disease!”

Silence.

Usopp blinks “Wait. What?”

Chopper slaps his hooves over his mouth again.

“I SAID NOTHING!”

But it’s too late. Usopp already looks like he’s won the biggest jackpot in the world.

“Oh...” Usopp grins “Ohhhhhh, this is golden.”

Chopper gulps “P-Please don’t tell Luffy I told you—”

“Don’t worry,” Usopp says, slinging an arm around Chopper “I won’t tell him.”

Chopper sighs in relief.

“I’ll just fix the problem instead.”

And that’s way worse.

Usopp wastes no time.

He finds you on the deck, casually leaning against the railing, staring at the ocean with a frustrated pout. Clearly, you’re still confused about Luffy’s behavior.

“Y/N!” Usopp calls, throwing an arm around your shoulder like he’s about to tell you the best gossip of the century “Guess what?”

You raise an eyebrow “What?”

He smirks “Luffy’s been acting weird because of you.”

Your eyes widen “Because of me?”

“Yup.” Usopp leans in dramatically “Turns out, our beloved captain has been having dreams about you. Every time he sleeps.”

You blink “What kind of dreams?”

Usopp wiggles his eyebrows “You tell me.”

You roll your eyes “If this is another one of your dumb stories—”

“It’s not a story!” Usopp says, holding up his hands “Chopper accidentally spilled everything to me. Luffy came to him all panicked, thinking he had some weird ‘dream disease’ just because he keeps dreaming about you.”

You stare at him for a moment, processing. Then, realization hits.

“…Wait.” Your heart skips a beat “You mean—?”

“Yes bestie,” Usopp confirms, nodding smugly “Our dear, dumb captain is in love.”

Your brain short-circuits.

Luffy? In love with you?

You suddenly recall every weird interaction over the past few days. The way he’s been avoiding you, the way he stumbled over his words, the way he ran away from you yesterday. It all makes sense now.

You bite your lip, trying to contain the sudden warmth rushing to your face “So what do we do about it?”

Usopp grins mischievously “Oh, I have a plan already. Thank god I’m your best friend”

Later that evening, Luffy is minding his own business, stuffing his face at the dinner table, when Usopp slides into the seat beside him.

“Oi, Luffy,” he says casually, resting his chin on his hand “You free after dinner?”

Luffy, mouth full of food, nods “Mhm. Why?”

Usopp grins “No reason. Just wanna show you something.”

Luffy shrugs, too busy enjoying Sanji’s cooking to question it.

Big mistake.

Because the second he follows Usopp outside, he realizes something is off.

“Hey, where are we going?” Luffy asks, tilting his head.

“Just trust me,” Usopp says, leading him toward the front of the ship “It’s something cool.”

Luffy doesn’t think much of it—until he turns the corner and sees you standing there, arms crossed, waiting for him.

His entire body freezes.

Usopp immediately bolts in the opposite direction.

“W-Wait—!” Luffy starts to call after him, but the sniper is already gone.

The trap has been set.

And now, he’s alone with you.

Luffy swallows hard. He should run. He should stick to his original plan of avoiding you. But his legs refuse to move.

You step closer, eyeing him suspiciously “Luffy.”

He forces a grin “H-Hey, y/n!”

“Are you avoiding me?” you ask, cutting straight to the point.

His grin falters “W-What? No! Of course not! Why would I—?”

You raise an eyebrow “Usopp told me everything.”

Luffy panics.

“W-What? Pfft! No, he didn’t! He doesn’t even know anything!” Luffy waves his arms dramatically, laughing nervously “That Usopp, always making up stories! Haha! I don’t even dream! What even is a dream? I don’t—”

“Luffy.”

He shuts up instantly.

You sigh “You know you suck at lying, just tell me the truth.”

Luffy rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze “I, uh…”

You wait.

Luffy shifts uncomfortably. His heart is pounding, and he’s sweating bullets. Lying is so hard.

“…Okay, fine,” he finally mutters “I’ve been dreaming about you.”

You blink, surprised at his sudden honesty “…Every time you sleep?”

He nods.

You step closer “And it made you think something was wrong with you?”

Another nod.

You stare at him for a moment before breaking into a soft laugh. “Luffy… that’s not a disease.”

He pouts “It’s not?”

You shake your head, smiling “No, dumbass. It just means you like me.”

Luffy blinks “Like… like like?”

You roll your eyes “Yes, Luffy. Like like.”

For a moment, he just stands there, staring at you. Processing.

Then, realization hits him like a Sea King.

“…OHHH.”

You burst out laughing.

Luffy stares at you, completely dumbfounded “Wait, wait, wait—so I’m not sick?”

“Nope.”

“I’m just—” He points at himself “—in love”

You nod.

Luffy blinks. Then, suddenly, he grins.

“Huh. That’s kinda cool.”

You snort “That’s all you have to say?”

He tilts his head “Well, yeah. I mean… I like you. And you’re right here. So that’s good, right?”

Your cheeks warm “Yeah,” you admit softly “That’s good.”

Luffy beams. Then, without warning, he grabs your hand.

“Then let’s go tell the others!” he says cheerfully, already dragging you toward the dining area.

“Wait—what?”

“I gotta tell Chopper I’m not dying!”

You groan, but you can’t help smiling as Luffy excitedly pulls you along, already shouting for the crew.

Usopp, watching from a distance, smirks.

“Mission accomplished.”

Luffy bursts into the dining area with you in tow, grinning like he just found the biggest treasure in the world.

“Oi, everyone! Guess what? I’m not dying!”

The entire crew freezes.

Zoro, who was mid-sip of his sake, lowers his cup “Huh?”

Sanji looks up from the stove, cigarette dangling from his lips “I didn’t even know you thought you were dying.”

Robin chuckles, setting down her book “I assume this has something to do with y/n?”

Chopper, who had been sitting on the table, gasps in relief “You aren’t sick?! Oh, thank goodness! I was so worried—I thought maybe I misdiagnosed a new kind of illness!”

Luffy laughs, slapping a hand on Chopper’s hat “Nope! Turns out, I just like y/n!”

Silence.

Then—

“FINALLY!”

Usopp throws his hands in the air “I swear, if I had to watch you two dance around each other for another week, I was gonna lose my mind.”

Nami sighs, shaking her head “So that’s what all the weird behavior was about.” She smirks at you. “And? How do you feel about all this?”

You clear your throat, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. Your hand is still in Luffy’s, warm and firm, like he has no intention of letting go.

“I, um… I like him too, I've been obvious about it, he's the only one who was oblivous, am I wrong?” you admit.

The crew erupts.

Sanji dramatically clutches his chest “Nooooo! My sweet Y/N has been stolen by him?! Life is so cruel!”

Zoro snorts “Tch. Took you long enough, rubber idiot.”

Franky wipes a fake tear “Young love is so super!”

Brook laughs “Ah, my heart is about to explode by all this cuteness—oh wait, I don’t have a heart! Yohohoho!”

Luffy grins even wider, turning to Chopper “See? I told you it was something weird!”

Chopper crosses his tiny arms “You literally thought you had a disease.”

“Yeah! And now I don’t!” Luffy lifts your hand triumphantly “Now me and Y/N are together, so it’s all good!”

Your face heats up “I don’t remember agreeing to that part.”

Luffy tilts his head “Huh? But you like me, right?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Then we’re together!” he declares proudly, as if that’s how relationships work.

The crew laughs, and you groan, hiding your face in your free hand “I should’ve known dating Luffy would be exactly like this.”

Luffy just beams, completely unbothered “Dating sounds fun! Let’s do that!”

And honestly? Looking at his bright, happy face, you can’t even be mad.

[liliasenbyhusband]

Elizabeth Arden and Helena Rubinstein hate fucked

18+

In case it wasn’t clear by the title this is nsfw (especially the second part) so minors dni!!

Before I go on this rant I do want to say that I’ve only seen a couple of clips from this musical and have never fully seen it (if anyone has a link 👀). I do however listen to the soundtrack religiously and I’m a lesbian so I feel that qualifies me and makes me right about this.

Also please note this is about the characters and not the actual people!

Firstly their sexualities just cause I can:

I believe Helena Rubinstein is a lesbian, the only reason she ever entertained men is because that’s what was expected and needed to get where she wanted to get. In If I’d been a man she says “I love only men I can't caress” and that honestly sounds so much like someone experiencing comphet to me. Like only loving men you know you can’t have cause it brings you some solace that you at least still like men??? Of course we also have the absolute obsession with Elizabeth and like nothing is straight about that. On top of all of that in Forever Beautiful she very proudly talks about how Tamara De Lempicka had a crush on her which is also not very straight of her and then there is this little moment in No, Thank You where she talks to mr Paley about his wife that had me question if she’s fucking his wife… ngl… like the way she says “I insist, it’s sapphire, like her eyes” had me going like 🤨 “and how do you know that, ma’am???”.

I find Elizabeth Arden more difficult to place, I’m going to be honest. Of course the obsession with Helena is very fucking gay, it reminds me of the song ‘loathing’ from the wicked musical, so she is definitely sapphic. I believe she does like men as well though, like she was genuinely into her husband, I think. My gut is saying bisexual but with good arguments I could be persuaded of most other sapphic identities as well.

Now for the main event: they fucked.

They were obsessed with each other for half a century... HALF A CENTURY… that is a different kind of loathing like… that is a type of obsession that in and of itself is so fucking sapphic that I can’t even put it into words. Like they live in each other’s heads rent free. And when you think about someone that much, you can’t tell me that you don’t, at some level, want them. Once again think of the song ‘loathing’.. hate and love/lust are not opposite emotions, they are far closer to one another than one might think.

They caused themselves (and their businesses) so much damage just to be able to hinder the other. Imagine hating someone so much you want to make their life that much more difficult and will even shoot yourself in the foot for it. That in itself is so sexually and emotionally charged.. like she really means so much to you that you’d damage yourself just so she suffers too?? If that isn’t the gayest thing you ever heard then idk anymore.

The tension that comes from hating one another so severely and trying to continuously make life harder for the other person can so easily slip into something more sexually charged that you cannot convince me that during a specifically heated argument the sexual tension didn’t become too much for them. So they snapped and just let it all out. It was definitely rough and not pretty, I’m talking clashing teeth, fighting to have the upper hand (I believe Helena ends up winning) and torn up clothes. It would truly bring out their most feral side and any composure and grace they previously held goes out the window.

And once the dam broke the first time well.. let’s just say whenever life got too much and they needed to take it out on someone… their arguments turned into something more carnal.

Now let’s talk about Face to Face because that song is gay as all hell. What do you mean you wonder about what her favourite perfume and artists are??? Like the way they’re singing about one another in this song is the reason I first was like “oh they fucked”.

At the beginning of the song Helena complains about how she’s always been attached to her ‘rival’ but they’ve attached themselves to each other, no one forced them to remain enemies or to continue being petty and make life harder for the other. They could have detached at any point.

Also how they suddenly wanna share their struggles with one another??? GAY!!! And how they suddenly admit that maybe the other person is possibly just as good as they are because why else would they be able to annoy them this much??? SAPPHICS!!!

Now onto stealing each other’s confidant… like there is something so petty and so gay about that like why on earth do you want the person that is closest to her by your side? Is it because you want to get under their skin so badly that you’ll do anything?? Is it because it’s a way to have her closer to you without being closer? Or do you want to gain more knowledge about her??? No matter the answer, the outcome is so fucking gay and most definitely leads to hate sex. Like what do you mean you stole her husband to have as your right hand man??? That is so utterly bizar and is such a messy lesbian move. What are you trying to get to know about her that you need her husband as your right hand man 🤨.

Beauty in the world + the entire finale is so fucking gay. It’s basically like “yeah only us two know about when there was true beauty in the world” and like “we should just stay enemies for business” HELLO??? “Our secret” EXCUSE ME???. Maybe we helped the other survive/thrive??? What kind of gay ass shit????? Helena asking Elizabeth her opinion on her lipstick. The way Helena looks at Elizabeth when she sings “Eyes that glittered like a gem. The lovers we bewitched with them.” They definitely fucked.

“Strange with you I see it all again like new. A glimpse of beauty in the world.” SORRY??? I DON’T THINK ANYONE HAS EVER SAID ANYTHING AS ROMANTIC TO ME AS THIS.

The way they look back so fondly on their rivalry.. it really was a way to cope and survive and blow off steam and you cannot convince me that they didn’t hate fuck to help with that.

After that encounter they had sex one last time and for the first time it wasn’t purely hate filled but there was some softness and fondness there.

And lastly THE WAY HELENA APPLIES ELIZABETH’S LIPSTICK IN beauty in the world. LIKE THE WAY SHE SO GENTLY WIPES IT AWAY THEN APPLIES IT AGAIN?? The first time I saw that I nearly screamed and died. If that moment can’t convince you that they slept together then nothing can.

That’s it’s for now. I wanted to add more clips as proof etc but I can only add one sooo I chose this one

(This rant was inspired by a reaction from @yourbasicqueerie)

[ezrasxfics]

abstragedy fic where caine figures out zooble likes gangle and keeps pestering them about it? (like a parent would react to their child getting their first crush lmao) /nf :3

i’ve never been prouder…

-

abstragedy (ft caine)

-

zooble pov

it’s just another day in the circus, and by that i mean, another day of being surrounded by total DIPSH*TS. jax.. bubble.. and probably the biggest of them all, caine. hell, he’s harassing me right now. absolutely f*cking relentlessly.

“oh, zooooblee~!” he calls out, floating down the hallways in an attempt to find me. by now, everyone else had left for an adventure. i stay completely silent, praying that he doesn’t fine me. until—

he’s right in front of me.

“what do you want!?” i snap, maybe a little more aggressively than i meant to. it was just.. something about him. something that aggravated me to no end. that loud voice, that ‘can-do’ attitude.. it reminded me of someone, and i couldn’t put my finger on who.

“oh, zooble, i just wanted to talk to you!! have a little chat.. because i’ve noticed that you and gangle have been quite friendly recently - almost like.. what do humans call it.. you’re ‘down bad’ for each other!”

“….WHAT!? where the hell did you get that idea-!?” i stammer, unable to deny that he was absolutely right. but his wording..? “and don’t say ‘down bad’ again. my god…”

caine stares at me blankly for a few seconds, as if he’s buffering, before cocking his head to the side. “isn’t that what you are? when two humans love each other—“

“okay- okay, shut up- no- don’t finish that f**king sentence. we’re just friends, okay?? that’s it.” raising both my hands defensively, i take a small step back. “we’re just close friends, okay??”

“i hate to accuse you of lying, zooble, but that can’t be true! the way you look at each other, the way your voice deepens a little and hers gets higher when you talk to each other, the way your pupils dilate, it’s all key symptoms of human love!”

“…symptoms? love, or whatever, isn’t a disease—“

“moving onnnnn- i’ve developed a foolproof 5 step plan on how you two can finally admit your feelings to each other!!” he says, a wide smile on his face. or.. his teeth. how can teeth even—? whatever.

“no.” i say simply, folding my arms as if to display my disapproval. “no f**king way.”

“so, firstly, i’ll set you two up on a special adventu-“ he cuts himself off, before continuing. “what do you mean, no? you haven’t even heard my plan, zooble!”

“i don’t need to. caine, you’re an ai. you don’t understand.. feelings. they’re more complicated than just statistics and predictions and plans, you just.. nevermind. forget i said anything.”

“okay!!” he replies, but his energy faltered slightly. i almost felt.. bad for him.

“..fine. tell me the damn plan. no promises, though.” i mutter, after a small hesitation. he may be an ai, but i know that even caine has.. basic feelings. i wouldn't want to be an a** and hurt him.

almost immediately, that spark of joy in him returned as he began to relay the plan. “so, zooble, firstly, you’re going to go on a special adventure for just the two of you. then, she’s going to end up in some sort of.. sticky situation. and you’re going to save her!! once you’ve saved her, you’ll say a little speech you prepared.. and happily ever after!!!!”

“……that’s only four steps.” i say, entirely dumbfounded. he couldnt seriously expect me to go through with THAT, right?? then again, it’s caine we’re talking about…

“happily ever after is step 5!! so, what d’you say, zooble? i worked very hard on it, it would be a shame for my plan to go to waste-“

“FINE— fine, i’ll f**king do it. if you leave me the hell alone.”

“done deal!!!” he sighs, clasping his hands and bringing them to the side of his face. “i’ve never been so proud..”

-

thanks for the request!! i had a lot of fun writing this!!!

reblogs appreciated!!

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

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Silent Conversations

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — After living in Madrid for nearly a year, Jude's gotten the hang of spanish. So he never thought he’d have to learn a new language just to flirt with someone—until he meets you.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x Deaf!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 9.7k

Warnings! FLUFF!! Jude is kind of obsessed with you in the best way, lover boy, you're very adorable in this one, reader speaks but can't hear, reader can read lips,

Preview

********** Being deaf and a chatterbox is a contradiction that most people don’t know how to wrap their heads around.

But it’s who you are.

Since you can remember, you've always loved to talk—loved filling spaces with words, with thoughts, with laughter. Being deaf has never stopped you. If anything, it’s only made you more creative in how you communicate.

People underestimate how much talking you can do with your hands, how much personality you can pour into a single sign, a raised brow, a quick smirk. They think "talking" only means sound, that conversations without voices are somehow lesser, as if the absence of noise makes words any less real. You’ve spent your whole life proving them wrong.

And tonight is no different.

Your little brother practically vibrates with excitement next to you, hands flying as he signs about how insane the game was. He’s been a Real Madrid fan for as long as he’s been able to walk, and your parents had gone all out for his birthday—jerseys, meet&greet tickets, the whole experience.

So far, the night has been going well.

Your family has been cheering and chanting for Real Madrid alongside the thousands of other fans packed into the stadium, their voices blending into the electric hum of excitement that fills the air. The game has been nothing short of exhilarating, each pass, each near goal sending waves of emotion through the crowd.

Your hands ache from the number of times you’ve signed to your brother, asking for updates on what’s happening when the movements on the field become too chaotic to follow. He’s been patient, grinning as he translates key moments for you, his enthusiasm infectious.

When the final whistle blows, confirming Real Madrid’s victory, the stadium erupts into cheers. Your family is ecstatic, jumping to their feet and embracing one another in celebration. You smile, soaking in the energy, but exhaustion is already creeping in. The weight of tomorrow morning sits heavily on your shoulders.

You love nights like this—love the way your father’s face lights up after a good match, love the way your younger cousins beam with pride, shouting the players’ names like they know them personally—but you can’t afford to linger. Not when your boss expects you bright-eyed and fully alert at the crack of dawn.

You sigh, glancing at the time. If you leave now, you’ll get home at a decent hour, and maybe you'll get six hours in tonight. I should go, you sign to your brother.

He frowns. So soon?  

"I have work in the morning."  

He relays this to the rest of your family, and they groan in unison. Your mother reaches out, squeezing your arm in understanding. "Text us when you get home," you read on her lips.

You nod, exchanging quick hugs before making your way toward the exit.

The corridors are still crowded with lingering fans, some of them stopping to take pictures or rewatch highlights on their phones. You weave through them, emerging into the crisp night air just outside the stadium, and pull out your phone to call for an Uber.

Five minutes.

Not too bad.

You exhale, shoving your free hand into the pocket of your jacket as you make your way toward the designated pick-up area near the parking lot. Your feet ache slightly from standing for so long, and the cool breeze is a welcome relief after being surrounded by so much body heat. You scroll through your phone absentmindedly, debating whether to pass the time by answering a few messages or just watching the people around you.

That’s when you feel it.

A presence.

It’s subtle at first—a shift in the atmosphere, a slight prickling at the back of your neck. Then, footsteps. Slow. Unsteady.

You look up just in time to see him stumbling toward you.

The acrid scent of alcohol hits you first. It’s overpowering, the kind of stench that clings to a person’s skin and clothes, the kind that makes your stomach churn. He’s disheveled, his jacket slipping off one shoulder, his eyes unfocused. But there’s something sharp in the way he grins at you, something that immediately puts you on edge.

"Hey," he slurs.

Your grip tightens around your phone. You don't respond. Instead, you take a step back, angling your body away from him. But before you can put more distance between you, his hand shoots out, gripping your wrist with surprising strength.

"I'm talking to you, you little bitch!"

Panic spikes through you like ice water.

Your breath hitches, your heart hammering as you instinctively jerk back, trying to free yourself from his grasp. Your hands move on their own, the motions quick, desperate. Leave me alone.  

The man’s face scrunches in confusion. "What? What are you doin' with your hands?"

You swallow hard, pulse racing. You try again, this time forcing yourself to speak, hoping the sounds come out right. "I can't hear you. I'm deaf."

His expression twists into something cruel. "Deaf?" He laughs, loud and mean. "You serious?" His grip tightens. "C'mon, don’t be like that. Just talk to me.I can show you a good time."

Your throat constricts. You shake your head quickly, signing, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, over and over, even though you know there’s nothing to apologize for. It’s just instinct. A plea for him to stop, to let go.

But he doesn’t. If anything, your silence only makes him angrier.

"Stop doin' that shit!" he snaps. "Just say something!"

Before you can react, before the panic fully settles into terror, a shadow moves behind him. Fast. Deliberate. A hand clamps down on his shoulder, yanking him backward with enough force that he nearly loses his balance.

"That’s enough, mate." The voice is low, firm. Unmistakably authoritative.

The drunk stumbles, blinking in confusion as he turns to face whoever pulled him away. And that’s when you see him.

Jude Bellingham.

He’s taller than you expected, broader too, his frame imposing even in casual clothes. His coils are damp, like he just stepped out of the showers, and there’s an undeniable exhaustion in his features—deep shadows under his eyes, a certain heaviness to the way he holds himself.

But none of that matters right now. Right now, his entire focus is on the man in front of him, his jaw tight with barely contained irritation.

The drunk sneers. "Who the fuck—"

"Walk away," Jude says flatly.

The man wobbles slightly, his mind struggling to catch up as he starts recognizes Jude. His eyes widen. "I was just—"

"I don’t care." Jude’s voice is sharper now, cutting through the drunken haze like a blade. "She’s not interested. Walk away."

There’s a moment of hesitation. A beat where the drunk seems to consider whether or not this is a fight worth picking. He glances between you and Jude, his lip curling in annoyance, before finally, begrudgingly, releasing a scoff.

"Whatever," he mutters, stumbling back. "Wasn’t even worth it."

You don’t breathe until he’s gone.

The moment he disappears into the crowd, your entire body sags, tension draining so quickly that your knees feel weak. You swallow, pressing a hand to your chest in an attempt to steady yourself.

Jude turns to you then, his brows knitting together in concern. "You alright?"

You nod automatically, even though you’re not entirely sure it’s true. Your hands tremble slightly as you sign, Thank you.

Jude watches your hands carefully, and your gaze shifts to his lips expecting him to say something next—to offer words you wouldn't be able to hear. Instead, he hesitates, then lifts his hands.

You… okay? The sign is clumsy, the movements stiff, but the effort makes your heart stop.

He had recognized what you were signing before. He had understood. you think.

You nodded, your throat tight with gratitude. He relaxed a little at your response, but still glanced around, protective. "You waiting on someone?" His lips move slower this time, giving you a chance to read them.

You nod again, holding up your phone. "Uber." The words come out in a bit of a slur but he understands them.

Jude frowns, looking at your screen. "Two minutes?"

He must have seen the time displayed on your phone because there’s no way he could’ve understood the tone of your nod. "Yeah."

The way he scowls in response makes you think that’s not an acceptable answer. His eyes shift, scanning the parking lot, and you can practically see the wheels turning in his mind. "Look, you want to wait inside? The security team can keep an eye on you till your Uber arrives."

His concern is sweet, and you find yourself nodding before you can think. "Okay. Thank you."

You let him lead you back to the main building, where there’s a security team waiting by the entrance. He explains your situation, and they offer you a smile. They won't let you stay inside the stadium since the game has already ended, but they’re willing to stand outside with you until your car arrives.

You nod in gratitude and wave a goodbye as Jude makes to leave. You expect him to keep going, to be on his way, but instead, he hesitates. For a second, he just looks at you, as if deciding something, but he shakes his head, offering a quick smile as he slips away into the night.

The security team stays with you the whole time. They make sure you’re safe and wave down your Uber when it arrives. You thank them and climb into your car, making your way home.

That’s it, you think. That’s where the story ends.

But it’s only the beginning.

**********

-Bianca🌻

[kathlare]

uninvited thoughts

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando finds himself blindsided when his brother, Oliver, informs him that Amelie is attending the wedding, an event that stirs up unresolved feelings.

Wordcount: 1.1 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

April 5th, 2022 - Melbourne, Australia

Lando leaned back in his chair, taking a slow bite of his sandwich as he glanced around the McLaren motorhome. The place felt like it always did—busy, yet strangely quiet, a subtle hum of activity that only someone who had been in the paddock long enough could truly appreciate. His brother, Oliver, was sitting across from him, scrolling through his phone, and the occasional chuckle or muttered comment was enough to keep the conversation light.

—Alright, listen to this,— Oliver said, holding up his iPad and showing Lando a map of the wedding venue. —I’ve been trying to sort out the seating plan, but this thing is a nightmare. Some people just won’t stop making demands.—

Lando leaned forward, curious. —What’s going on?—

Oliver zoomed in on a section of the map where the tables were laid out. —So, we’ve got the bridal party over here, the family section there… and then the rest of the guests. Here’s where it gets tricky, there are a lot of people who expect to be seated near either me or Sav, and I’m trying to figure out who really needs to be near us.—

Lando chuckled, knowing full well what his brother meant. —Sounds like a classic wedding drama. What, they’re gonna start fights over where they sit?—

Oliver looked at him with a smirk. —You’d be surprised. Some of these people think they’re royalty. Anyway, check this out. I’m trying to make sure everyone’s comfortable, but, well...— He tapped his screen. —I wasn’t sure where to put Amelie... oh shit, i guess i forgot to tell you...—

Lando’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name. The words seemed to echo in his head as if the universe was reminding him of the thing he tried not to think about. He blinked, hoping he had heard wrong.

—Amelie?— Lando’s voice came out sharper than he intended.

Oliver looked up, his face apologetic. —Oh sorry Lando, I forgot to tell you... Amelie confirmed she’ll be coming to the wedding. I was trying to sort the seating plan, and, well, I was wondering where to put her. I didn’t mean to drop it on you like this, but—

Lando’s stomach sank. —Wait, what? Amelie’s coming? You mean, she’s coming?— He didn’t even know what he was asking, the words stumbling out as his mind scrambled to make sense of this revelation.

Oliver’s face twisted with a small wince. —Yeah, I was supposed to tell you sooner, but with everything going on, I just… forgot. Sorry, mate, I didn’t think it would be a big deal.—

Lando stared at his brother, trying to make sense of what he just heard. His mind raced. She’s coming. She’s actually coming. He had heard about Oliver inviting Amelie, but he had assumed—and hoped—that she wouldn’t show. After the mess between them, the last thing he expected was for her to show up at a family event like this.

His thoughts were chaotic. He knew Oliver had asked him about inviting Amelie, and he’d said it was fine, even though deep down, he was skeptical. He never imagined she’d actually follow through. And now, with Luisinha coming with him too, what was he supposed to do?

—Shit,— Lando muttered, running a hand through his hair. —You’re kidding, right? She’s really coming? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?—

Oliver’s expression was a mix of guilt and awkwardness. He knew how complicated things were between them. Lando had never been one to hide his feelings, especially when it came to Amelie, but even Oliver knew how delicate the subject was.

—Look, I’m sorry. It’s not like I thought it’d be a big deal. I mean, I know things ended… weird between you two, but—

—Weird?— Lando repeated sharply, before he could stop himself. —That’s one way to put it. It wasn’t just weird, Oli. It was messy as hell. She’s the last person I expected to see at a wedding. Especially your wedding.—

Oliver leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender. —Okay, okay, I get it. But she confirmed. And now, I have to figure out where to seat her. Should I put her next to me, or do I stick her somewhere else, like… near you? I thought I’d ask you first, but you’ve been busy with the race, so—

Lando felt a knot in his stomach tighten. —Oh, god. Don’t put her anywhere near me. Don’t even… fuck, just keep her away from me. I don’t know if I can handle that right now.—

Oliver winced, realizing how serious this was. He’d seen Lando struggle to let go of Amelie after everything went south, and he had always tried to be careful when it came to her. But now? This was a whole new level of awkward.

—Right, okay. I’ll move things around. I didn’t think it would matter, but...—

Lando’s mind was spinning, and he struggled to keep his calm. He hadn’t expected to hear her name today, not like this. Not at his brother’s wedding. Not when everything was still so raw, so unresolved. The way Amelie had disappeared after they’d parted ways... it felt like it had been a lifetime ago, but in some ways, it still hurt like it was yesterday.

The silence between them was thick. Oliver knew better than to push Lando further. He’d seen his brother in a million moods, but this? This was a familiar one. A mix of confusion, frustration, and a pinch of fear. Lando’s heart was racing, his mind flooding with thoughts of her — the way Amelie used to look at him, the way she laughed, the nights they spent talking about everything and nothing. The whole mess that had been their relationship.

Finally, Lando took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He had to act normal. He had to. He couldn’t let his brother see how much this was affecting him, even though his insides were screaming.

He pushed his sandwich aside, his appetite suddenly gone. —Okay. Fine. Just... keep her away from me. That’s all I’m asking.—

Oliver nodded quickly, his eyes darting down to the iPad as he started scrolling through the seating plan again. —Yeah, I’ll figure it out. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I just... I thought it wouldn’t be an issue. I didn’t want to make things weird. But now, uh... yeah, I’ll make sure she’s not near you.—

Lando let out a long, slow exhale, trying to shake off the anxiety that had settled into his chest. —Look, it’s fine. It’s fine. I just... I didn’t expect it, you know? I thought she wouldn’t come. But... whatever. I’ll just... deal with it. It’s not a big deal, right? I mean, she’s just... she’s just there for you. It’s your wedding. Just...—

—Yeah, Lando, I get it. Don’t worry about it, man,— Oliver interrupted, his voice a little too casual for Lando’s liking. He was clearly trying to move past the awkwardness. —I’ll make sure everything’s fine. You won’t even have to talk to her if you don’t want to. But just... relax, alright? It’s gonna be okay.—

Lando forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. —Yeah. I’m sure. Just, uh... just make sure I’m not seated next to her, alright?—

Oliver nodded again, looking relieved that his brother wasn’t completely flipping out. But Lando couldn’t hide the tightness in his chest. This wasn’t going to be easy, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle it. He couldn’t exactly avoid Amelie. Not when they’d be at the same event. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face her. To see her with other people. To think about all the things they never said, all the things they’d left hanging.

His mind kept spinning, but he did his best to pull himself together. —So, uh, what’s the plan after the wedding?—

Oliver glanced up from the iPad, clearly not expecting the question. —Plan? You mean for the party?—

—Yeah, whatever,— Lando muttered, trying to sound casual as he stared at his brother, even though his thoughts were still miles away. —After the wedding. Like, is there an after-party or something?—

Oliver grinned, clearly relieved that his brother wasn’t completely consumed by the seating arrangement drama. —Oh, we’ve got a party planned. You should stick around for it. I know you don’t like all the fuss, but it’ll be fun. Everyone’s gonna be there. You can relax, have a good time, and forget about the stress of the day. Besides, it’s family. It’s your family. No pressure. You know that, right?—

Lando nodded slowly, forcing his thoughts to refocus. The wedding. The guests. The awkwardness. He’d deal with it. He always did. But deep down, he knew this wouldn’t be easy. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to confront the ghosts of his past — ghosts with green eyes and a smile that still haunted him.

—Yeah,— Lando said, standing up and trying to force some normalcy into his tone. —I’ll be there. I’ll, uh... I’ll figure it out. We always do, right?—

Oliver stood up too, giving Lando a slap on the back. —That’s the spirit. Don’t stress about it, alright? You’ve got a race to focus on. We’ll handle the rest.—

Lando didn’t respond. Instead, he just grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and walked out of the motorhome, his mind still racing, his heart still tense. He didn’t know if he was ready to face her. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be.

But he was going to have to. For his brother. For the wedding. For whatever the hell was left of him.

[lxchadora]

Kyleigh had a point; the vehicle would have to be quiet. There was little Rosita knew about those monsters but they always seemed to go in the direction with the loudest noise. Early on, just before she had gotten to the camp with a few other people from the military, she had seen that when she saw a woman screaming and the dead ones turning to walk toward her. As cruel as it sounded; Rosita had been lucky that the woman had chosen to scream that loudly because she had diverted away some of the undead coming towards her and the small group she was with. She knew she wasn’t supposed to feel that way; she had been someone and there might be someone out there who would miss her, but there was no way she would be alive right now had it not been for that woman causing a distraction. At the same time, she somehow felt guilty even though there was no reason to, rationally speaking, as she could never have helped that woman. She just hoped no one of the group would start screaming around when they faced them.

“Maybe we should go for bikes”, Rosita suggested. “Many cars are filled with those undead things, so we’d have to get close to one of them, and we could run out of gasoline and get stuck. But bikes are quiet and don’t need any gas.”

Plus, they didn’t have alarms. Didn’t need to be hotwired because you didn’t have keys.

At the sight of the map, the corners of her lips curved upwards in relief for a moment and Rosita’s shoulders relaxed. At least they wouldn’t have to take guesses where the hell they were going like rats in a maze.

“My solar/powered flashlight will probably come in handy”, Warren mentioned, much to Rosita’s delight, as her own flashlight was powered by regular batteries and she didn’t have any spare ones with her.

“But how are we getting rations? I mean we can’t just leave this place without bringing some water and food. I was in my hometown, a small town before I got evacuated to this camp and even our stores had nothing left. And medicine. The pharmacy was full of dead ones, and the the gas station was completely empty..” Irina reminded, voice desperate.

Rosita’s experience hadn’t been any different, any store she had passed by during the time she’d been out there had been stripped clean or a chaotic mess with smashed in windows and dead inside.

Irina was right; they had nothing. It’s not like they gave you anything more than two daily rations in here.

“They ship rations to this camp using a truck”, Warren reminded, starting to pace, “I don’t know when they’ll be here, but if it helps, I’ve documented the times the truck arrived at the camp and it ranged from 3:42 pm to 6:23 pm. If we managed to sneak inside we could get out of here by the next morning and take a few supplies with us. If we’re lucky, they’ll be here when the absent-minded guard is on duty.”

Rosita pondered the suggestion. “If we manage to pull that off, we won’t have to worry about supplies at least, and it’s not as tough as climbing over the fence. Any other options?”

She wanted to know if the others had any more suggestions. It was better to go through every possible option than to decide for the first thing that came up.

At the mention of it getting dark and the rest of their little group not being able to see those dead things, Kyleigh couldn't help but smirk a bit. That was when her lycan senses would finally be of some good use even if she had to keep them hidden from everyone. She would be able to detect them from yards away, hear their shifting feet, and smell their horrible stench well before anyone else. Her only issue was finding out a way to keep them all safe without giving her away her secret.

So she just nodded along in agreement with Rosita, happy that for once she wasn't going to have to be the one to plan everything. And incredibly relieved that she was finally surrounded by smart people. What they didn't need was Warren jumping in with his damn two cents every single time one of them spoke, but with a glare she just decided to ignore him and give her new friend a little bit of help.

"I was with a couple of people before I got pushed into this camp. We were keeping shelter in an empty warehouse on the outskirts of town before those things overtook us. Rosita's right, we need to stay away from the major streets and neighborhoods. That must have been where it all hit first. A vehicle might help, but we need the quietest one we can find." Right at the time this all started she had been traveling around with her prized car but by now that thing was either stolen or still sitting in back of that warehouse she had been camped in.

Proud of herself for never relying on things like electronic G.P.S., the half lycan reached into her bag and pulled out a map she had bought at a gas station right when she arrived from out of state. "This should help us, but we need to make sure we have light to read it. Flashlight, matches, melting crayons, whatever we can get our hands on." If she was alone she could use her ability to read in the dark without issue, but around them she was going to have to pretend to be like everyone else.

"So the best bet is for us to get the hell out of here as fast as we can, carrying light and only the essentials." Looking around to make sure no one else was watching them, Kyleigh unfolded the map and placed it on the empty chair beside her.

"We are here." Her index finger pointed to the camp. "About a mile up through the woods to the North there should be a small river. If we get separated on the way out we meet there. It's easy to find, even if it's dark. Everyone take a look at the map and we'll decide where to go after that."