#like it’s always felt like something I never would’ve signed up for had i had the chance to choose

[yoojinluv]

[scoupsakakitty]

Can I have joshua with an independent reader where she slowly showed her vulnerability towards him, like she confessed about her financially struggle or anything you like!!

Safe With You | idol!Joshua x Reader | fluff

“Are you okay?” Joshua’s voice was soft but firm, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of an answer you wouldn’t say out loud.

You exhaled slowly, gripping your cup of tea tighter. You hated this—being vulnerable, letting someone see the cracks in your carefully built walls. But Joshua had always been different. He never pried, never pushed, just waited patiently for you to let him in.

“I’m fine,” you said, forcing a small smile.

Joshua arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You know that doesn’t work on me, right?”

You let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, I figured.”

Silence settled between you two, comfortable yet heavy. You weren’t fine. Not even close. Rent was due in a few days, your bills were piling up, and work had been cutting your hours. You’d always prided yourself on handling things alone, but this time, it felt like you were drowning.

Joshua reached out, gently brushing his fingers against yours. “Talk to me, Y/N. Please.”

You swallowed hard, staring at the table. “I just…” You took a shaky breath. “I’m struggling, Josh.” The words felt foreign, as if admitting them made them more real. “Financially, I mean. Work has been unpredictable, and I’ve been trying to keep up, but—it’s hard.”

Joshua’s expression softened, and he squeezed your hand. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You shrugged. “Because it’s not your problem. I’ve always taken care of myself.”

He sighed, tilting his head. “That’s not how relationships work, Y/N. You don’t have to carry everything alone.”

You looked up at him, vulnerability evident in your eyes. “I know, but I don’t want to be a burden.”

Joshua’s brows furrowed. “You could never be a burden. Ever.” He let go of your hand only to hold your face gently. “Let me help, okay? I want to.”

You hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He took a deep breath. “I can cover your rent this month, or however long you need until you get back on your feet.”

Your eyes widened. “Josh, no—I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking,” he said softly. “I’m offering.”

Your heart clenched at how easily he was willing to help, no hesitation, no expectations. “I don’t want you to think I’m with you for your money.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Y/N, I know you. If that was the case, you wouldn’t have waited this long to tell me anything.”

You bit your lip, torn between pride and relief. “I just… I don’t know how to accept help.”

Joshua smiled. “Then start small. Let me do this for you.”

You exhaled, nodding slowly. “Okay.”

His expression brightened, but then he hesitated, as if debating whether to say something else. “Actually… I’ve been thinking about something for a while.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

He reached for your hand again, lacing his fingers with yours. “What if you moved in with me?”

Your breath hitched. “Josh…”

“I know it’s a big step,” he admitted. “And I don’t want you to feel pressured. But I love you, Y/N. I want to be there for you—not just when things are good, but when things get tough too.”

Tears welled up in your eyes at how effortlessly he loved you. “You really mean that?”

He squeezed your hand. “Every word.”

A few months ago, you would’ve refused. You would’ve insisted on handling things alone. But now? Looking into Joshua’s warm, unwavering gaze, you realized something—you didn’t have to do everything by yourself. Not anymore.

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Joshua grinned, pulling you into his arms. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

And for the first time in a long time, you truly believed that.

[navybrat817]

Any thoughts for WETnesday with Bucky?🤭🤭

Okay, Syd. I wrote this after work for Wetnesday and promptly fell asleep. So, I'm posting this on Thirsty Thursday! And that has to be Mr. Barnes before you two are married.

Dinner Plans

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn't want to be late for dinner, but you don't seem to be in a rush to go.

Word Count: Over 2.8k

Warnings: Established relationship, quick unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, lovelies), possessive behavior, a bit of humor and fluff, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I love this couple, okay? @targaryenvampireslayer and @starlightcrystalline, I hope you enjoy! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was still early in the evening as Bucky got ready for dinner. Checking his watch once he put it on, he sighed. If he was late, Steve would give him a hard time. And if Steve gave him a hard time, Sam would only give him the gasoline to fuel the fire. Just the thought of it had his face shift to his grumpy stare you loved.

His gaze softened when you went to the vanity. Would the guys give him a hard time if he said he was in love and wanted as much alone time with you as possible? How being with you was like floating on a cloud and being pulled back down to earth all at once? He didn’t care if they’d call him out for being sappy. He sure as hell suffered enough in his life that he could afford to be appreciative of you and maybe a little selfish when it came to you.

But checking the time, he grumbled. “We were supposed to leave five minutes ago,” he said.

He would’ve rather gone to a hole in the wall kind of place or a diner to have dinner, but it wasn't his turn to pick the dinner out with some of the gang. Plus it was nice getting to dress up with you since you liked how he looked in suits. To be fair, you said he looked good in anything and he felt the same way about you. How you always managed to look like a goddess, he’d never know.

You hummed. “We still have a few minutes to spare,” you said, which he wasn’t sure how you knew since you hadn’t looked at the time. “And you are not dressed yet, so it’s not like we can head out the door.”

He paused to stare at you. “Neither are you,” he pointed out, licking his lips as you leaned forward a bit more as you applied your makeup. He shook his head after a moment, trying to snap himself out of the spell you always managed to put him under. “I’m bringing you one of my cardigans to put over your shoulders in case you get cold.”

Because the weather was nice for the evening, you picked out a sleeveless dress. He didn’t know if the restaurant would be cold though, and he didn’t want you shivering through the meal. You likely had something to match your dress, but putting one of his cardigans over you was like that extra touch of belonging to him in case anyone got any ideas.

“You just want one of your shirts draped over me like a big neon sign that says I’m yours and you don't want guys checking me out on my dress,” you said like you knew exactly what he was thinking. There was no reason to deny your words since it was the truth. “But I appreciate the thoughtfulness.”

“I do like my clothes draped over you,” he smirked. He liked having his smell on you, too. “But you know what I don’t like? Steve and Sam bitching if we’re late. It’ll spoil my appetite.”

“Aww, my poor super soldier,” you teased, smiling at him in your reflection and making his heart skip a beat. “If we’re late, you can just blame me. I won’t let them give you a hard time, okay?”

Bucky couldn’t blame you though. Not entirely. You were late getting in the shower thanks to him insisting on the two of you staying in bed. Serum stamina or whatever you wanted to call it, but he felt bad some days for his almost constant need. You didn’t seem to mind though.

“They won’t believe me,” he said, staring again when the strap of your bra slipped from your shoulder. “And baby, you know I adore you, but you need to quit distracting me so I can finish getting dressed.”

Ever since you moved in, you’d been a distraction in a wonderful way. He often found that he’d pause to look at photos or little touches you incorporated into the place, giving him a chance to reflect on memories you made together and even learn more about who you were before you met. Hearing your laughter or voice call to him from another room also made him drop whatever he was doing, too. Sharing a space with someone could be daunting, but it was easy with you, like you had lived together for years. It made him look forward to more.

“Me? Distracting you?” You turned your head toward him and gave him an innocent glance. You were anything but innocent. “I'm not doing anything.”

Bucky almost snarled. Like hell you weren't doing anything. Swaying your hips and prancing around in your lingerie before you sat to get ready, lingerie which barely covered your gorgeous tits and sweet cunt. He wanted to rip it to shreds or tear it off with his teeth. You wouldn’t mind, right? He could always get you more to destroy.

“Not doing anything? Look at you,” he said incredulously as you turned back to the mirror and pushed your bra up. He should’ve been holding your breasts. “Why aren't you wearing a robe?”

You tilted your head. “Well, you said before I got in the shower that we were in a slight rush, so I figured putting on the robe was a waste of time. At least I have my underwear on, though I know you’d rather I be naked.”

If Bucky had his way, you’d be naked all the time. At least, when you two were at home. Logically he knew he couldn’t have that at work, functions, or anything of that nature, but the image in his head was nice. “For such a rush you seem to be taking your time.”

“I'm not taking my time. I'm finishing my makeup,” you argued, carefully applying your lipstick. “Like it?” you asked, blowing him an air kiss. It was a pretty shade. It would look even prettier smeared around his cock.

He closed his eyes with a groan. Some days he felt like a caveman with the thoughts that consumed him. “You look beautiful,” he said once he opened his eyes. Like always. “Now get your dress on so I can show you off before I put the cardigan on you.”

“Show me off?” You slowly stood from your chair and gave him a generous view of your backside. His cock twitched in his pants, and there was no reason to hide the pure lust in his eyes when you turned to face him. “You flatter me, Mr. Barnes.”

He chuckled. It always did something to him when you called him Mr. Barnes. It was something affectionate, sweet. “I think you’re the one flattering me, Mrs.-” he exhaled before he could finish, and he heard the hitch in your breath across the room.

“What was that?” you asked breathily.

He adjusted the watch on his wrist and avoided your gaze. You were his girl, yeah, and the love you had for each other spoke volumes, but you weren’t his wife. Not yet. God, how he wanted you to be- for you to take his last name, wear his ring on your finger, be his partner in all aspects of life. He wanted it to be more than just a dream.

“I didn’t say…” He cleared his throat and put on a blank face, only because he didn’t know how you’d react. “Anything.”

Your eyes raked over him before you beckoned him forward with a finger. He swore no one would ever control him again after HYDRA brainwashed him, but you could’ve commanded him to do anything. It didn’t frighten him because you would never harm him, never take advantage of him. Taking him into your care and maintaining his trust was one of the ways you showed you loved him.

Once he stood in front of you, barely an inch away, you whispered, “Were you about to call me Mrs. Barnes?”

He swallowed hard, his heart racing. It was one thing to say you loved each other, to want a future together, but what if you weren’t ready when he popped the question? “I was,” he whispered back.

You smiled, not looking the least bit put off or afraid. He should've known it wouldn't bother you, especially with you being the one to say “I love you” first. “I think that has a really nice ring to it,” you said, your hands moving to unbuckle his belt.

“You think so?” he asked, forgetting for a moment that he was capable of breathing. “You like the idea of being my wife?”

Bucky would no doubt be the kind of husband who’d brag about you. He’d find ways to insert “my wife” in conversations just to let others know that you picked him out of everyone else on the planet. Not just that, he wanted people to know how proud he was to be your man and that he’d find reasons every day to be proud of you.

“I love it,” you confirmed, sighing when he ran his fingertips along your arms. “Makes my heart race,” you admitted. He could hear it. “Makes me wet.”

Bucky arched his hips and pressed up against you. “Baby, you’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, not stopping you as you unbuttoned his pants. He was thinking of just cancelling dinner so he could throw you on the bed and stay inside you for the rest of the night. “We need to-”

“Oh. Now might be a good time to tell you that Steve pushed the reservation back by a half hour,” you cut in, mouthing over his racing pulse. “He figured he’d message me since I’m better about checking my phone, and-”

Bucky picked you up with ease and tossed you onto the bed. Your wide-eyed expression as you bounced nearly had him busting out of his pants, and he didn’t hesitate to crawl over you and pin you down. Relishing in the moan you let out when he lightly bit your neck, he did it again a little harder. “No wonder you took your time and teased me,” he smirked when you squirmed beneath him. “My future wife.”

“My future husband,” you moaned, bucking your hips up. “Need you in me. We can be quick.”

You got a hand in his hair and forced his head up to yours, your tongue impatiently pushing into his mouth. He groaned in understanding, feeling just as desperate as you. Knowing how turned on you were at the thought of being his wife turned him on, and he could barely form a coherent thought as he took his cock out and gave it a couple of quick pumps.

“Say it again,” he demanded, shoving your panties aside and rubbing the head of his cock along your slit. He took his time earlier today stretching you, and he wanted nothing more than to feel you around him again.

And the way you reached between your bodies and gripped the base of his cock, he knew you wanted the same when you said, “Fuck me, my future husband.”

He eased in gently, making you whine. He thought he’d whine, too, for a second because of how good he felt. God, how good it would feel to hold your hand one day and feel his ring against your skin. “You okay?” he asked, dragging his thumb along your lower lip once he was fully inside you. You were tight still, so wet, and oh, he was going to fuck you and make it quick, but he wasn’t going to hurt you.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, starting deep into his eyes as you clenched around him with purpose and brushed his hair back. He tried to be still, tried not to thrust like a wild animal. “Are you?”

“I’m okay,” he promised, easing his hips back. “Just hold on while I fuck you.”

Your back arched when he slammed himself back in nice and deep, your cry bouncing off the walls. Here in the comfort of your home you didn’t have to smother any noises, didn’t have to keep quiet. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, how you were the queen of his world.

Being inside you all he got out was, “You feel so fucking good.”

And because you could read him like no one else could, you tenderly smiled. “I love you, too.”

He threw his head back as you clutched his arms, determined to make you feel good, determined to show you how much he loved you even as he fucked you. “Gonna put you on your hands and knees after dinner. Make you watch in the mirror while I fuck you,” he groaned. “Can imagine it's part of our honeymoon.”

“Please!’ you moaned, trying to meet his thrusts.

Bucky grabbed your thighs to lift you higher, uncaring if he ruined his pants for the evening. Watching you tremble beneath his, a vision of ecstasy, he was happy to stay there forever. Wrapped up in you was where he always wanted to be.

“Gonna come,” you moaned, reaching up to pull his hair again, your body quaking. “Bucky, please.”

Bucky groaned. He hadn’t rubbed your clit how he wanted to. Didn’t get to tear your bra off and tease your nipples. He did promise to fuck you later though, and he’d do all those things and more. “Then come for me,” he smirked, leaning down to say against your lips, “Future. Mrs.. Barnes.”

You got impossibly tight and the flood of wetness that gushed around him triggered his own orgasm, a rush of heat filling him as he filled you. His mouth fell open as you clung to him, and he heard you moan his name as your eyes went glossy. He wanted the image of you getting off to taking his last name etched in his brain for all time. He wanted his name to fall from your lips again and again on your wedding night.

The cloud in his mind began to lift. You, his future wife, were beneath him, still shaking, still holding him like a lifeline. He didn’t want to let you go either. “Holy… shit…” you panted.

He braced himself above you, trying not to crush you as the euphoria slowly faded. It never really went away though. Not with you. “Holy shit,” he agreed. He stayed inside you, your sweet mewl making him smile as he kissed you. “Is this a new kink?” he asked, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, touching his cheek. “New kink unlocked.”

Touching your lips with his once more, he chuckled. “You ruined my pants,” he teased. It wouldn’t have been the first time. The first time you rode his thigh and got your release all over it, he nearly came, too. “Good thing I have a few minutes to change.”

He cradled you close when he shifted to the side, making you moan again. “Yeah, well, you ruined my panties. Fair is fair.”

“I did,” he smirked, running his fingers along your spine. “Hey.”

“Hey what?”

“I love you,” he whispered, wanting to say it as often as he could. They weren’t just words, but a declaration, a promise.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, tracing one of the buttons on his wrinkled shirt.

His lips brushed your forehead. He’d never get tired of hearing you say that. “If I asked you to marry me right now, would you say yes?”

He wouldn’t propose right this second. You deserved something more romantic. But in his heart, he just wanted to hear you say that you’d say yes.

You giggled, your eyes full of love. “I would say yes in a heartbeat,” you replied, kissing him gently. Your answer relieved him. “And I’d marry you anytime, anywhere.”

He raised an eyebrow. “But?” he asked, sensing a “but” in there.

“But don’t ask me right now, okay?” you smiled, in sync with his thoughts. “I mean, I’d like to think my pussy would make you propose now-”

“And it would,” he smirked.

You giggled again. “But ask me when I’m not expecting it… Whenever it feels right to you.”

“I will,” he promised.

“Looking forward to it.” You snuggled closer and missed his look of adoration. “Hold me for one more minute before we get ready to go?”

As if he could ever deny you. “I’ll hold you as long as you want,” he whispered.

He no longer cared if Steve or Sam gave him shit should they show up late. If you wanted him to skip dinner just to hold you, he’d do it. If you wanted him to surprise you when he proposed, he would. And no matter when Bucky asked you to be his wife, he’d make sure it was perfect as it could possibly be.

AHH! I love them so much. How do you lovelies think he proposed? ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[miirohs]

sugarcoated [l.d.n]

pairing: Mob Boss!Baby Daddy!Lando Norris x Fem!Reader wc: 2.7k cw: violence (implied but not against the reader), emotional manipulation, reader is highkey tweaking, Norris is a touchy ass, slight yandere undertones, this aint healthy an: i keep forgetting my irls have my blog lowkey ive been scared of posting bc of my parents. also hey ladies whats up im back out of my flop era! miss me miss me now you gotta kiss me!

He was always lingering somewhere, no matter where you went.

It was like no matter where you ran, he would always find you. Quite frankly, you were sure that was half the appeal to him, he was a powerful man and he spared no expense in letting you know. 

Sometimes, it was the little flowers he left on your doorstep in pristine condition, small notes in semi legible handwriting tied to the stems. Other times, it was the faint smell of his perfume that lingered as he’d find himself in front of your door at odd hours of night, begging you to let him in, as if he’d been dying at the steps of your door.

And like a fool, you finally cracked, you did let him in. You were charmed, though there was no doubt it made you uneasy, he’d pacified you with his dazzling promises to take care of you, so what could’ve been the harm?

You didn’t see him again after that night. In fact, you hadn’t seen him for weeks afterwards, then the games started as soon as you moved.

You’d run, he’d show up, you’d run again. 

It was a cycle. There was no leaving the city anymore either, his forces scattered across every crook and nanny of the city. You’d sealed your own fate with just one hospital visit, deliverance of the exact news you’d prayed to not get as you sat with a test in your hands, two pink lines string back at you. 

You had no idea how you even made it home that night.

It was in your best interest not to move anymore, but you weren’t even sure how to move forward. Your wallet wasn’t entirely drained, but you were. Any chance of moving away was immediately stomped out, leaving you with no choice but to firm up against him and his sugar coated words.

It wasn’t long before he found out, and when he did, he made sure you knew. You couldn’t tell for your life how he felt though.

At first, it was minor things, baby items you didn’t recall ordering appearing at your door. You chalked it up to clerical error, but something nagged at you as you inspected them. Then, more expensive items started to appear, everything a new mother could dream of, but it made you uneasy.

Sometimes he’d come along with one of these gifts, standing outside the door as you peered at him through the eyehole. You never answered, with the hope that he'd leave you alone, hoping to dissuade him from anything further.

Then the biggest shock came along, sitting across from you on the counter, as if it’d been there the whole time. You had no time to question, let alone think about it upon seeing the small note attached to the box. 

I hope you’ll love the gift exactly how I did when I saw it, xoxo.

You knew exactly what a diamond ring implied. Yet, you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around why he would’ve sent it. The last thing he would’ve done was tie himself to you after trying so long to avoid you.

It’d been four days since the ring had appeared there, and you were simply hoping it was a fluke, no sign of him to back the ever present thought of the intrusion. 

You sat at the dining table, poking around your half-assed salad as you stared at the box. You could’ve sold it off, but there was no doubt someone would’ve found out and reported it back to him, leaving you to bear the brunt of his anger at your outright refusal. He’d never hurt you, but you saw everything in his actions.

The thought was more than enough to throw you off your meal, pushing away the plate with a pained sigh. Eating wasn’t the only thing that’d become harder in recent months, as working had left you with barely any time for yourself.

You were almost ready to doze off right there and then, had it not been for the series of sharp raps on the door, earning a grumble from you as you dragged yourself to the door with a mind full of insults to hurl at the person.

It hadn’t occurred to you to check who it was as you sleepily fiddled knob, only saved by the grace of the chain lock you’d forgotten to unlock.

“Hey there.”

Your blood froze, hazel eyes staring down through the crack of the door. There he was again, the devil himself, at your doorsteps as if he’d been waiting for you for a long time.

“Lando?” it came out as more of a whisper than anything else, voice cracking from a lack of proper use.

“It’s nice to see you too sweetheart,” He laughed, tilting his head at you to meet your eyes through the wide crack. 

There was a look in his eyes, although you couldn’t entirely decide if it was predatory or not as you averted your eyes, looking down at the handle of the door.

“What’s going on in there? Are you working late again? Though the doctor said it wasn’t good for you to be up this late with the baby on the way.”

You didn’t respond, trying to shut the door as subtly as you good, hitting something between the doorframe. Jitters ran down your spine when the door wouldn’t move further, looking down to see what it was. 

He’d wedged his shoe in between, the bastard. You looked back up, swallowing as he narrowed his eyes, the smile slipping off his face for moments to reveal thinly masked displeasure before disappearing entirely.

He knew what you were trying to do. You didn’t know if the guilt building up in your chest, or the possibility of what he could’ve done, scared you more. He’d never explicitly laid a hand on you, but the amount of torture was already enough as he lingered in your space.

“Someone has to keep the lights on,” You muttered, letting him nudge the door open. You were already fighting a losing battle, there was no way to keep him away but to hold him at an arm's length. That was how he’d gotten in the first time. He couldn’t fool you twice though.

“That’s why I've been sending you stuff, have you not gotten it?” He frowned. For a moment, it almost felt as if he were trying to be genuinely involved. You knew better.

You hesitated, looking back and forth between the chain lock and his face, though not much contemplating would be able to change the choice that’d already been made for you.

“No. I… donated it to some of the others at work. Needed it more than I did.”

There it was again, the indignancy in his eyes. 

“I got it for you though, was it not to your liking then?” His voice was eerily calm, but you knew exactly what it meant. Your hand instantly went up to the chain, almost as if it was moving on its own. Fear gripped at you. You had no idea what he was going to do next.

“So, you’re determined to be a single mother then? Do you know the kind of trouble it would get you and the baby into…” He raised his voice, pausing to see if you’d reconsidered.

Clearly a slight tremble in your hand was enough to convince him you’d finally stood down, a smirk gracing his already vicious face as you opened the door. You had no plan to, but it was hopeless to try and stand up without attracting attention, the last thing you wanted was for everyone to know what a shameless bastard he was.

“Just come inside please. Don’t let anyone see you any more.” You whispered, letting him through the threshold before you shut the door behind you.

“You’ve been busy, haven’t you? Just look at the state of your... apartment.” He shook his head, pushing at stray articles laying all over the floor with his foot, as if they were positively filthy. There were still boxes from your last move sitting around the living room, the only real piece of furniture unpacked being your bed and the table you were sitting at. 

You couldn’t help but be a little embarrassed as you walked into the kitchen, you’d never been this untidy before. It wasn’t any easier as Lando tailed you, only pausing outside the door frame, as if something stopped him from coming through.

“You should move from here. I don’t like this apartment, it’s in a sketchy part of town.”

“Well, I don't recall asking for your opinion, did i?”

You didn’t pay any mind to his poking, filling a random mug up as you stood at the sink before you shot back, standing in the dark of the kitchen as he walked away, presumably to shuffle through your personals again. You were thankful for a moment of silence though, head pounding from all that had happened today.

You stood there lost in thought, and he’d returned sooner rather than later, tone disapproving as he spoke to you once again.

“I wonder how on earth I'm supposed to convince you if this can’t stop you from trying to make it on your own.”

Only, he wasn’t at the doorway anymore, standing a little further back, waving a stack of letters to your face. The color of the envelopes, you immediately knew what the contents were.

Heat seemed to bloom across your face, rushing over to grab the letters from him. It was of no use, he could easily keep them out of your reach, but it didn’t stop you.

“Sweetheart, what happened to you? Looks like you’ve managed to stir up more trouble than you can handle, am i right?” You could hear the mock empathy in his voice, distorted by the rush of blood to your ears.

“You. You happened to me.” You hissed back at him, finally grabbing the papers and slinking backwards. There wasn’t any time to leaf through them, but the big bright red stamps were more than enough to drive you to tears when you saw them. But you couldn’t cry here. Not in front of him.

He didn’t respond to your remark, simply giving you a look of pity, watching with careful eyes as you tossed the pages back onto the table, taking your seat back. The tension was getting higher, only breaking when you finally looked at him, opening your mouth.

“You can’t just come in here, into my life,” you managed, voice quivering despite the resolution you’d come to, “And act like you own the place. You have no idea what I’m dealing with.”

“Don’t I?” Lando pushed himself off the opposing wall, getting closer. “I’m the one who’s been watching you struggle, I'm the one who’s trying to help you love.”

“And is this what help is then?” The thought tasted bitter. “Sending gifts isn’t helping, it’s… wrong.” 

Then adding in a whisper, “You know i can’t afford this.”

He paused, the righteous look he had faltering for a second. “You’re reading it all wrong. I’m just trying to provide for you and the baby, but you want to be stubborn. You won’t take my help, nor will you take my money.”

“I don’t want your money, please.” You begged mercifully, looking at him eye to eye since the first time he’d stepped through the door.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile that sent chills through you. “You should be thanking me. Not many get the same kind of priority you’re getting right now. I’m only trying to make it easier.”

“I would never do it with your filthy money, how many have you run over just to make a paycheck?” You murmured, pausing at the look on his face.

“At least I can provide for myself. I won’t ever have to scrap the bottom of a tip jar only to fail to make rent.” He replied smoothly, eyes narrowing at your attempt to rebuke him.

The implication hung heavy in the air, and you clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm. “I… can’t.”

The silence seemed to stretch thinner, and you could feel the burn in your eyes as you looked down at your clasped hands. You couldn’t even really tell when the first tear slipped. It kept coming, and you couldn’t stop it. You knew he was right.

“Hey, hey, none of that.” He said slowly, getting down on one knee to meet your eyes, taking your hand in his. “I was out of line for that, wasn’t i?”

You shook your head, covering your mouth to stop the sobs from escaping. He seemed remorseful, running a thumb over your knuckles as he looked at you with a mix of pity and something foreign.  “I know I upset you, but I'm still offering you a chance here. I wanna set it right between us.”

You didn’t argue through the tears, and he seized the moment. “You can struggle all you want but I can provide everything you need. I can make the baby my heir, I can give you the life you deserve... all you have to do is say yes.”

“Say yes to what? Marrying you?” The words seem to slip out of your mouth mid sob, and a look of amusement crossed his face as you slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Exactly,” he replied, trademark grin spreading across his face. “Imagine it. A beautiful ceremony, a life together. You’d have someone by your side who can ensure nothing threatens you. You’d be safe and sound. The baby would be my successor, guaranteed.”

“I barely even know you. You don’t know me.” You whimpered as he played with your hand, too loving, too suffocating.

He moved closer to your lap this time, bringing his hand up to wipe the tears, soft and tender than you’d known him to be. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, and I know it feels like you don’t know me at all. This is a big decision.”

“It’s not just a decision, Lando. It’s my life.” You hiccuped, despairing clawing at your insides. “How do I know you won’t just leave when you’re bored of me?”

“Didn’t I promise to take care of you and the baby?” He gently cupped your face, tilting it up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. “Look at me. You’re not alone in this. I’m here now, and I want to help.”

There was a flicker of recognition at his words at the back of your brain, raising voices of caution as you looked at him through glassy eyes. “And what if I can’t love you back like you want me to?”

Lando’s eyes darkened slightly, and he took your hands, pulling you closer. “You don’t have to love me right now. Just trust me.” His grip tightened, slightly painful as he held onto you. “Just let me show you what it means to be cherished.”

He leaned in, his lips almost brushing your ear, the movement making your breath hitch. “Let me in, stop thinking so hard.”

You could’ve stopped breathing, time slowing as he pushed the ring box into your lap.

He was never going to give you a choice, but what he said was ultimately true.

“Just think,” Lando urged as you squeezed your eyes shut, allowing him to play with your ring finger. “Think about what you could have.”

You’d never really realized how much his scent stuck till you until now, wrapping around you and lingering softly. A part of you was tempted to lean into him, to let him guide you into this new reality.

Even if you hadn’t made up your mind, he likely already had.

“Fine.”

Wordlessly, the cold metal slipped on the finger he’d been tracing moments before, bringing up your hand to kiss it.

“See? You’re already one step closer.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You could only look at him, dried tear tracks sticky against the sudden cold draft of the air.

“It’s a promise,” he said, his thumb brushing over the ring as if it had already tied you together. “I won’t let you go just like that.”

You shuddered. 

There was no escaping him now. You were tied to him.

A sugar coated nightmare, it seemed.

[yoitsjay]

This is more cause the Epic musical ended, but can you do like Jason x Reader based on the final song “Would you fall in love with me again” like Jason returns to reader after Jokers gone, he’s fought to return to her while feeling like he’s no longer human, reader arguing how long shes missed him and he obviously still cares. You can add smut if you want but i feel like Jason needs an Odysseus ending.

EPIC THE MUSCICAL MENTION?

Your Still Human

Summary: throughout everything she waited. He fought for her, she waited for the moment he returned to her side. Now he was home, and he didn't believe that she still loved him, despite all he's done. But she can make him believe.

Warnings: slight angst, Jason todd backstory shit, arguing, reader slaps him into reality (literally), light smut, not really descriptive.

Word Count: 1931

A/n: I feel like whenever anyone says "you can write smut if you want" is a very passive aggressive way to say they want to fuck the character they requested. LMAO, if u want smut, ASK FOR IT, and be specific if u want smth special. 😃

Gotham City never sleeps, not even under the weight of snowflakes that dust the cracked pavement and the jagged rooftops. The air was sharp tonight, biting against your cheeks as you tightened your scarf, shivering in the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp. Winter in Gotham had always felt heavy, oppressive even, but this one weighed on you differently.

Two years. Two years since the night Jason died.

The thought lingered, as unwelcome as the gusts of wind that snuck through the gaps in your coat. The Joker had taken him—your best friend, your love, your anchor. And while the world had kept turning, the city humming along with its chaos and crime, your own clock had stopped that night.

You stood at the edge of the East End, the skyline swallowed by a curtain of falling snow. Somewhere out there, Bruce was probably brooding in the shadows, and Dick might be chasing down a lead. But you? You couldn’t bring yourself to move. This corner of the city felt quieter, like even Gotham’s perpetual noise knew better than to intrude on your grief.

In your pocket, your gloved fingers curled around a worn photograph. The edges were frayed from how many times you’d unfolded it, staring at Jason’s crooked grin, the light in his eyes that had always seemed so unshakable. You could almost hear his voice in the silence, teasing you for standing out in the cold without gloves—though, this time, you were wearing them.

A crack in the snow behind you startled you from your thoughts. You turned sharply, heart thudding, but it was only the wind sweeping an empty soda can across the ground. Still, the moment reminded you of where you were—Gotham wasn’t safe, not even for someone who had loved a Robin.

You sighed and tucked the photo back into your pocket, pulling your hood up against the cold. Jason would’ve told you to keep moving, to stay sharp. And though your grief threatened to anchor you in place, you took a step forward.

The city was still alive, and so were you. For now, that would have to be enough.

you made your way from the side of the building and back to the door that leads to the staircase. You took your time walking down, keeping one earbud in, one out so that you could still listen to the music you enjoyed, while staying vigilant to the dangers.

The Wayne’s were your family, through and through, especially after that night, you knew they would always have some form of eye on you, whether it was Oracle through city surveillance cameras, or one of Bruce's adopted menagerie of children making sure you got home safe in the evening.

You finally arrived at your apartment building, though as you approached your door, you quickly realized something was off. The door was ajar, but there was no sign of forced entry, no cracked, splintered or broken door frame or handle, no scratches.

Tentatively, you pulled out the pocket knife that alwaysat heavy in your left pocket. It was a silvered blade, short but deadly sharp, and the handle was red, polished wood and resin. A goft from Jason, before he had died. he made you promise to use it if your life was ever in danger, to fuck bruces no killing rule if it meant you stayed alive.

you promised you would.

You approached the apartment, knife gripped tightly in your dominant hand as you slowly pushed open the door, glancing around the darkness of your loft. It was a very open concept, but you loved it. You could easily see up the stairs to where your bedroom was, and from the loft you could see below to the living room and kitchen.

The large windows provided bright moonlight, which illuminated the apartment. At least it wasnt pitch black.

Cautiously, you moved further into the appartment, checking the corners, sticking close to the wall as you studyied the living area, seeing nothing out of place, nothing turned over or destroyed. Alright, not a robbery. But that didnt mean it was any less dangerous.

You heard some shuffling, coming from above, on the lofted area where your bedroom was. You narrowed your eyes. You should be smart, and leave the appartment and call Dick, Tim or Bruce to come investigate, and make sure it was safe…

but then an oddly familiar scent hit your nose as you crept up the staircase, keeping the knife firmly gripped as you slowly poked your head over the last step on the staircase, keeping low as you spotted a shadowed figure seated on your bed, looking through an album.

your private album with polaroid pictures you took of \jason, and yourself, when you were both kids and he was alive.

Slowly you rose up, and you flicked on the bedroom light.

then your knife clattered to the ground.

Familiar eyes stared up at you, though once a deep blue, they now shone almost tealish green in color, though, perhaps that suited him more.

“Jason”.

Your voice flooded the area first, breath stolen away as a diffrent, but familiar man slowly rosr to his feet, already towering over you, even from a few feet away.

“You didnt move out.”

he voiced observantly, glancing around the loft apartment. “new furniture though, i like it.” He added, his gaze falling back to you, and your dumbfound expression.

“Your dead.”

“Lazerus pit.”

“ah…”

Silence once more, until he took a step forward, you flinched, but didnt moce back as he slowly, cautiously approached, before crouching down and grabbing the knife that had fallen from your hands.

“Have you used it?”

He asked, and you shook your head.

“Only to peel an apple. don’t think that counts.” you muttered softly, eyes following his movements as he stood back up, closing the knife before handing it back to you… tentitively you reached out, though rather than grabbing the knife, you grased his hand.

He was real, here, standing right in front of you.

You let out a sob, and your knees began to buckle, but his arms were quickly wrapped around you, and he was holding you close, his face, scarred, older, buried into your hair, the scent not changed since he saw you last.

“Y/n…” He trailed off, his voice cracking as he squeezed you gently in his arms. “i tried to come sooner, you were the only thing on my mind- im so sorry.” Jason whispered, feeling you slowly wrap your arms around his neck, hands sliding into his soft, black, and now white streaked hair.

“is it really you?” You asked, voice cracking as you pilled back, looking into his teal green eyes, moving your hand down to his chee, thumb brushing over the J shaped scar in his cheek, causing you to from as he flinched slightly, though didnt pull back.

“You look diffrent, older… broken”

Jason frowned, his eyes searching yours before he removed his arms from around you and he pulled back, looking out of the large windows, the moonlight illuninating the haunted look in his eyes.

“Ill be honest Princess… im not the man you fell in love with.”

He breathed out in a chuckle, slipping his hands into his pockets as his eyebrows furrowed.

“im not kind, gentle or- any of that bullshit you knew…”

He trailed off, trying not to notice the way your frown deepend, and how tears glistened your cheeks.

“Ive done so many bad things… trying to get back to you, to my world… things i- i cant take back…”

His worlds trailed off, and he glanced in your direction as you approached, sliding your hand up his arm, to his bicep.

“what have you done?”

you asked, voice soft, quiet. you were afraid it would break if you spoke up any louder.

“i-”

Jason paused, frowning as he looked away, balling his hands into fists within his pockets.

“I’ve killed people darlin’- a lot of people. i was so angry, i left a trail of blood everywhere i went… but my goal was always you, princess.” He replied, his voice cracking slightly as he looked down at you.

“If that's true.” you spoke up tentatively, “Then take your knife back, and slit my throat.”

you demanded it so sternly, and his eyes flew wide open as he took a step back.

“What?” he barked out, glaring down at you. “Why the fuck would you say something like that Y/n? i would never hurt you, i love-”

His words were cut off as your hands grabbed his face, and you pulled him down, smashing your lips against his.

Jason quickly melted into it, his muscular arms wrapping around you, holding you firmly against him as he relished in the feeling of your lips against his.

Fuck, he whined when you pulled away.

“Only the Jason Todd I knew would say that, would love me so unconditionally that he killed anyone in his path just to get back to me.”

You breathed out brushing some white strands of hair from his eyes, so you could take in all the trauma, the sadness locked away behind them.

“I love you, i missed you- and don’t you dare call yourself a monster, Jason Todd, i'm not Bruce, i don't care how many you’ve killed, it just means there's one less criminal in the world. I know damn well you still care about me.” you stated sternly.

he was silent for a little, holding you, taking your words in, before he chuckled, and his eyes closed as he pressed his forehead to yours. Muttering an ‘im sorry’

“Theres nothing to be sorry about.”

You replied, smiling when he simply snorted, and said nothing else… until he did.

“I need you.”

He whispered, and you raised an eyebrow, studying his facial features, the way his bottom lip quivered slightly.

“You have me me Jas-”

“No Y/n- i need you.”

He whimpered.

he fucking whimpered.

Your face heated up significantly, though he made no sudden movements as you continued running your fingers through his soft black locks.

“Oka-”

You couldn't even finish your sentence because his lips were already locked against yours, his arms under your ass as he hoisted you up with ease and spun you around before placing you on the bed, stealing your breath away with every kiss he stole from you, his own soft, needy grunts already filling the room as you felt him grind his massive bulge into the plushness of your thigh, one arm wrapped around said thigh to keep it secured as he rutted against you.

“Jason-” You managed to grunt out between every kiss, letting out a soft moan as he nipped at the skin of your neck.

“You're mine.” He growled out, like he was fucking feral.

“m’ never gunna leave you again princess, never- fuck- will you let me use that pretty pussy? yeah? Let me claim you?” he grunted with each particularly rough grind against your thigh.

Words and sounds mingled into one as the night progressed, the open apartment door left forgotten as he all but consumed you.

In the end you laid in his arms, letting him hold you as tightly as he needed to as cum leaked from between your legs, bruises littered all across your skin. But Jason was back, your prince of gotham was home. safe in your arms.

if it were you who died, and crawled back to life…

you would have destroyed the whole world just to see him again.

Tag list:

All: @francesfarhadi

Batfam tag:

Jason Todd tag:

Jason todd smut tag:

[limethefirst]

Guard Dogs

pairings: Deadpool x reader x Wolverine

warnings: drinking, violence, swearing, creepy guy in a bar, crude humor

summary: you never have to worry when you go out, your guard dogs are always there to protect you

a/n: can be perceived as romantic or platonic, it’s not specified! Also I want to thank everyone who’s been supporting my stories and all the kind words I’ve received!

Going out alone wasn’t something you liked to do, but unfortunately there were a lot of instances in which you had to. The world itself wasn’t a safe place, both Wade and Logan knew that, in fact it was one of the few things they could always agree on.

Today was no different, do your usual chores, relax, eat, work, but there was something else you wanted to do, a little treat for all your hard work, “Let’s go drinking tonight!”

Wade and Logan looked up from whatever they were doing. You had bursted into their apartment without a notice.

It was normal for all three of you to hang out, but it was unusual for you guys to all go to a bar together. Logan was the heaviest drinker of the group, he knew where to go, Wade would go with his friends mostly, and you didn’t treat yourself to this as much.

“Alright,” Logan mumbled, his eyes on whatever stories the local news channel had on, controller in one hand his head in the other.

“Woah the big bad wolf wants to be seen out with us?!” Wade exclaimed, referring to Logan, “Sign me up!” Logan rolled his eyes at the comment his ‘friend’ made, not in the mood to argue with him.

“Okay I’ll be back at 7,” You told the men, closing the door heading back to your own apartment.

“I need to go put on my good toupee!” Wade claps his hands together, heading towards his bathroom, grabbing the staplers on his way.

Logan’s eyes still glued to the television yells over to him, “They’re all ugly don’t worry.” Wade flips him off, closing the door.

Getting ready was something that made time fly by, because before anyone knew it 7 was already here. The three musketeers were ready for their adventure.

Logan led the way, knowing the best places in the city despite being here for the shortest amount of time. Wade was on your right fixing his “hair system” as he made some snarky remarks at Logan.

You walked close to Wade unaware of what was going on.

The bar was nice, it had some stools, a few benches and normal tables for bigger groups. Logan sat himself on the stools by the bartender knowing he’d get liquor much faster this way. Wade sat a seat away from Logan leaving you space in the middle of the two, which you didn’t mind at all.

“Give me another drink,” Logan called to the bar keep.

“There you go just fucking up that liver again,” Wade smirked at him, just trying to get under his skin.

“Shut the fuck up before I rip off that toupee and shove it right up your-”

Before Logan could finish Wade quickly put his finger up to his mouth, “Woah there peanut, I don’t do pegging on the first date,”

“If this wasn’t a public bar I’d cut that oversized head of yours off,”

You laughed as Logan and Wades bickering continued. Suddenly you noticed as the music seemed to turn off, normally you wouldn’t mind but tonight a nice song would’ve been good so you quietly excuse yourself from the situation.

You found yourself walking over to the jukebox; your eyes examining the song selections before picking ‘Million Dollar Man’ by Lana Del Rey (Ldr mentioned).

Having put on your song you found yourself walking back to the stool seat before a man walked in front of you.

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing by herself?” His tone was slurred, obviously from drinking too much. He wasn’t tall and he looked like he’d just woken up.

You gave a quiet sigh, “Oh I’m not alone,” You gave him a slight smile hoping he’d get the memo.

The man looked around and smiled creepily at you, “I don’t see anyone” He slowly took some more steps closer to you.

“How ‘bout now Bub,” Logan’s voice boomed from behind you, you felt his hand on your shoulder.

The creep gave an annoyed eye roll. Logan was taller than the man by a lot, and was definitely more intimidating.

“We were just talking, why don’t you leave us alone?” He began to mock Logan, this only riled him up some more.

“I’ll give you three seconds to walk away before I get serious,” Logan’s eyes were trained on the man, his arms were now crossed over his chest, visibly annoyed.

The man let out a dry chuckle, “Yeah okay what are you gonna do buddy?”

“We’re gonna fuck you in the ass,” Wade said as he showed up behind the man and grabbed his head, smashing it into the bar. Logan then brought the man back up just to knee him in the stomach before throwing him on the ground.

Everyone else started to get up after seeing the commotion, obviously itching for a fight, but you didn’t waste anytime for that grabbing both men and running out of the bar.

“Jesus Wade did you have to say that?” You asked him, wondering why he thought ass play was a threat.

“Do not use my name in vein,” he responded, clearly unbothered by his remark.

Logan gruffed at the evening you guys had, visibly tired from all that went on.

“We need to stop going out together,” you said looking at the street light.

“Let’s watch a movie at my place next time!” Wade offered, a cheery expression on his face.

“Yea whatever but you better not pick a fucking porno again,” Logan glared at him remembering the last time Wade picked a movie for the three of you to watch.

“I think it makes for good team bonding!”

[valeisaslut]

what are reader’s and ellie’s MOST traumatic life moments or childhood i just need to know this i LOVE shit like this

oh. babe. you don’t even know what you’re asking for.

i’ve been WAITING for this one. i’ve had this little heartbreak tucked away, saved under my sleeve, because if i dropped it casually y’all would’ve sobbed yourselves into another plane of existence. but... since you asked... i will deliver.

Collide rockstar!ellie’s most traumatic life moments:

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 the last time she saw her mother she doesn’t really remember her mom’s face. just a blur of auburn hair, a cold hand pushing her toward joel’s front porch. the door slamming shut behind her. the smell of rain and car exhaust as a blurry figure walked away, not looking back once. joel scooped her up, mumbled something like “you’re safe, kiddo” but she wasn’t stupid. even at two years old, she knew. the first person who was supposed to love her didn’t. some nights, when she’s alone and high enough to let the cracks show, she still dreams of that door. closing. again. and again. and again.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 being told she was a mistake. at nineteen, bright-eyed, full of raw talent and hope, sitting in a fancy office in LA signing her first deal. some big-shot exec laughed too hard at a joke she didn’t understand, leaned back and said, “guess your dad forgot to wrap it up, huh?” everyone laughed. she smiled. she went home and smashed her first guitar against the wall. stared at herself in the mirror until sunrise, wondering if her whole life was just one long accident.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 losing joel in slow motion no screaming matches. no slammed doors. just... less. less texts. less visits. less warmth in his voice when he called. until the only thing left between them was old songs and heavier silences. sometimes she sees dads hugging their daughters backstage at shows and it feels like a knife between her ribs. joel never stopped loving her. he just didn’t know how to love her through the wreckage.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 catching joel’s voicemail after not speaking for six months she didn’t listen to it right away. she couldn’t. but one night, drunk and high and lonely, she pressed play. his voice, crackling and old and tired: “i’m proud of you, kiddo. no matter what. just... stay safe, alright?” and then nothing. just static. she still has it saved. she’s never answered.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 the first time the stage felt like a curse sold-out show. lights flashing. the crowd screaming her name like a prayer. and she stood there, guitar in hand, heart hammering, feeling absolutely nothing. not pride. not joy. just a black, sucking emptiness so loud she thought it might swallow her whole. and she realized: this was the dream. and it was still killing her.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 the groupie incident. it was early fireflies era. ellie was nineteen. young, cocky, drunk on success and whiskey. the tour was everything she'd dreamed of—loud, messy, free. the fan found her backstage. older, confident, too confident. flirted with her like they already knew each other. said all the right things in all the wrong ways. the kisses turned sharp. the hands got too fast. and the woman—god, the woman wouldn’t shut the fuck up. kept whispering “joel miller’s kid” against her mouth, like it was dirty talk. a kink. kept asking "is your daddy proud now?" between bites against her jaw.

ellie froze. laughed it off, weak, because what the fuck was she supposed to do? tried to pull back but the woman dropped to her knees, trying to take care of her. touched her like she was owed something.

ellie shoved her away hard enough that the woman stumbled back laughing, calling her a tease.

ellie left. didn't tell anyone. showered until her skin hurt. locked it away somewhere dark.

and after that night? she swore she'd never be vulnerable like that again. swore she���d never give up control like that again. she'd top. she'd be the one in charge. always.

(there were nights when someone's hands brushed too close to her throat and she flashed back. when someone kneeled too fast, and her whole body locked up. no one knew why she tensed. she just smiled and said she’s picky.)

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 the night the drugs stopped being fun. it wasn’t dramatic. no ambulance, no near-death collapse. it was quiet. she was alone in a luxury hotel suite she didn’t even remember booking, scraping up a line with a hotel key card, staring at her reflection in the marble bathroom counter. eyes glazed. skin pale. soul gone. she snorted it anyway. and realized she didn’t even want to get high anymore. she just didn’t know how to be alive without it.

Collide popstar!reader's most traumatic life moments:

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 the day her grandparents found out she liked girls she grew up really close to them, deep in the south, raised on sweet tea and silent judgment. she loved them deeply. but that day, the kitchen smelled like cornbread and disappointment. her grandma’s hands shaking over the table. her grandpa’s voice sharp as a knife: “you’re going to hell.” she was sixteen. just figuring herself out. she slept on the floor of her best friend’s bedroom for two weeks after that. they still call ellie “your friend” on the phone. like your love was something shameful. something less.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 the moment she started hating her own body — they told her she had the “perfect popstar face.” but her body? every photoshoot. every fitting. “we love you, babe, we just need you a little tighter in the waist.” “just a few pounds, sweetheart. you’ll thank us.” at 18, she was living on black coffee and air, stepping on the scale twice a day, crying in hotel bathrooms when the number didn’t drop fast enough. sometimes she still pulls at the skin on her stomach, even when ellie kisses every inch and calls her perfect. some lies are hard to unlearn.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 being booed on stage after being outed her first tour. small crowd. industry showcase. utah. someone leaked a photo of her kissing a girl at a party. they booed before she even opened her mouth. she smiled. sang the whole set. then threw up backstage, shaking so hard she couldn’t unzip her own dress.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 being used by her own label signed at seventeen. bright, obedient, hungry. they told her she could be america’s sweetheart if she just— smiled more. wore the short skirts. let them pair her up with a fake boyfriend for PR. handed her a packet with new hair colors. hobbies to start talking about in interviews. every day, chipping pieces of herself off to stay marketable. there’s still a contract framed in her manager’s office with her seveteen-year-old signature with a heart on it. sometimes she wants to burn it.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 the day she realized success doesn’t cure loneliness 3 mtv moon men. debut album. one of the most successful debuts in pop’s history. photographers screaming her name. champagne on her lips. legends of music clapping and smiling for her. and no one she loved in the crowd. the afterparty felt like a wake. she went home alone. took the awards out of her bag. stared at them for a long, long time. then shoved them into a closet and closed the door.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 being laughed at by her own family about her dreams and sexuality not even cruelty. not even rage. mockery. “baby girl, nobody from here makes it.” “when are you gonna get a boyfriend? oh.. right.. i forgot.” “music’s cute. not a real job though.” every family barbecue, every graduation party. smiles just a little too wide. hands patting her shoulder like they already knew she was gonna fail. every charting single now feels like a middle finger they’ll never see coming.

bonus trauma moments bc i'm evil and i have so much secret lore ab this i feel like im gonna explode:

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 ellie once showed her mom’s old photo to jesse in a moment of vulnerability, only for him to accidentally leave it at a hotel room. it got posted online. he apologized a hundred different times, but tabloids ran it for months. and it made ellie barely talks about her real life anymore. it’s why she hides the realest parts of her.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 reader got her first real paycheck from her music, bought her grandma and mom flowers and concert tickets, and her grandma said, "we don’t celebrate sin here.” her mother only nodded. didn't even look at her. she left the flowers on the porch. and cried all the way back to LA.

and they carry all of this—their bruised knuckles, their wounded hearts—into each other’s arms. sometimes fighting it. sometimes failing. always trying.

because trying is still loving. even when it hurts.

[amyzworldds]

Part Two: From Classmates to Soulmates

Masterlist | Part 1

Y/N, a vibrant solo artist, and Wonwoo, the reserved Seventeen member, share a bond that blossoms from high school friendship into something deeper. Her chaotic energy clashes with his quiet nature, but their connection—full of teasing, cat photos, and unspoken sparks—grows through years of laughter and challenges, proving opposites can be inseparable. Pairing: Wonwoo x reader Genre: Fluff

The internet was buzzing. Fans who’d once flooded Y/N and Wonwoo’s old posts with “bestie goals” emojis now noticed the silence. No more candid stories of Y/N crashing Seventeen’s practice, no more Wonwoo lurking in the background of her vlogs. Instead, her feed was full of Jaehyun—laughing on Star Buddies, sharing smoothies, posing with peace signs. Hashtags like #Yaehyun trended, while #WonYN faded into memory.

Y/N saw the speculation but brushed it off. They’re just bored. It’s fine. But it wasn’t fine. Wonwoo’s absence left a hole��his dry texts, his rare replies. He’d gone cold, and she felt it like a winter she couldn’t shake. She’d catch glimpses of him on Seventeen’s lives, his quiet smile unchanged, but his eyes seemed... distant. Angry, even. At her? At himself? She didn’t know, and it killed her.

Wonwoo wasn’t oblivious either. Every Jaehyun story she posted twisted the knife deeper. He’d scroll past, jaw tight, hating how he’d let her slip away. Why didn’t I say something? He was mad—at her for pulling back, at himself for not stopping her, at Jaehyun for being there when he wasn’t. His members noticed too. Mingyu’s teasing about “Yaehyun” stopped after Wonwoo snapped at him one night. “Drop it, Gyu.” The room went quiet, and no one brought her up again.

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

Y/N and Jaehyun grew closer, bonded by Star Buddies and late-night chats. He was sweet, attentive, everything a friend should be. But every time he laughed at her jokes, she’d think, Wonwoo would’ve rolled his eyes. When he let her ramble, she’d miss Wonwoo’s sarcastic “Are you done?” Jaehyun was great, but he wasn’t him. And that realization hit her hard—she didn’t just miss Wonwoo as a friend. She loved him. Not the safe, platonic kind. The kind that made her chest ache.

Jaehyun, though, was falling. He’d light up when she texted, save her favorite snacks, linger a little too long when they hugged. Y/N didn’t see it—or maybe she didn’t want to. She was too busy gaslighting herself into thinking her heart didn’t belong to a certain bespectacled introvert.

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

One chilly autumn evening, Jaehyun texted Y/N to meet at a park near Han River. She showed up in a oversized hoodie, her hair messy from a long day, expecting a casual hangout. They sat on a bench, eating kimbap from a convenience store, laughing about their latest episode where Y/N accidentally tripped into a foam pit.

“You’re a walking disaster,” Jaehyun teased, handing her a soda. “How do you survive?”

“Pure luck,” she grinned, nudging him. “And good friends who save me from myself.”

He smiled, but it faltered. The air shifted, and Y/N’s stomach twisted. She knew that look—too serious, too soft.

“Y/N,” Jaehyun said, voice low. “I need to tell you something.”

She froze, chopsticks mid-air. No. Please don’t.

“I like you,” he said, eyes earnest. “Like, really like you. I thought maybe you felt the same, but... I just had to say it.”

Her heart sank. Jaehyun’s confession hung between them, heavy and fragile. She liked him—his kindness, his laugh—but not like that. Never like that.

“Jaehyun...” She set the kimbap down, voice trembling. “You’re amazing. Really. But I... I like someone else.”

He blinked, processing. Then, with a sad smile, he asked, “It’s Wonwoo, isn’t it?”

Y/N’s breath hitched. She hadn’t said his name, but Jaehyun knew. She always mentioned Wonwoo—how he’d hate this spicy snack, how he’d love that stray cat they saw. It slipped out, and she never noticed until now.

She looked away, cheeks burning. “I... I don’t know.”

But she did. Admitting it to herself felt like jumping off a cliff—she loved Wonwoo. Not just as her best friend, but as the one who made her world brighter, louder, better.

Jaehyun chuckled softly, masking the hurt in his eyes. “It’s okay, Y/N. I see it. You light up when you talk about him.” He paused, then added, “I’ll be here, you know. As a friend, or... if you ever change your mind.”

Her throat tightened. She hated hurting him—Jaehyun, who’d been nothing but good. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey, don’t apologize for how you feel.” He stood, brushing off his jeans. “It’s getting late. Let me drop you home.”

“No, I... I wanna stay here a bit,” she said, voice small. “I’ll be fine.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Text me when you’re home, okay? And don’t overthink this. I’ll be alright.”

She forced a smile as he left, but the moment his figure faded, the dam broke. She buried her face in her hands, tears spilling. She’d hurt Jaehyun, and worse, she’d hurt herself by pushing Wonwoo away. This park—it was blocks from his and Mingyu’s place. The realization hit like a wave, and before she could stop herself, she pulled out her phone.

Her thumb shook as she dialed Wonwoo. It rang once, twice, then—

“Y/N?” His voice was low, cautious. Weeks of silence, and now this.

She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a sob. She couldn’t stop—tears, guilt, everything pouring out.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Panic crept into his tone. “Where are you?”

“The p-park,” she hiccuped. “Near your place.”“Stay there. I’m coming.” The call ended abruptly.

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

Wonwoo didn’t think—he just ran. Heart pounding, shoes slapping pavement, he cut through streets until he reached the park. The night was cold, but he barely felt it. All he could hear was her crying, echoing in his head. She’s hurt. She needs me.

He spotted her on the bench, shoulders shaking, face buried in her knees. His chest ached—anger at himself, at her, at everything fading into worry. He slowed, catching his breath, and approached.

“Y/N.”

She looked up, eyes red and puffy, mascara smudged. “Wonwoo...”

Her voice broke, and before he could say anything, she stood and threw herself into his arms, hugging him like he might vanish. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed into his jacket. “I’m so sorry I stopped talking to you. I didn’t mean to—I just—”

He froze, then slowly wrapped his arms around her, one hand resting on her head. “Hey, slow down. Why are you crying?”

She pulled back, teary eyes meeting his. “I hurt Jaehyun. He... he likes me, and I told him I don’t feel the same. It hurt him, and it hurts me because I hate hurting people, but I can’t pretend I like him when—” She stopped, biting her lip.

Wonwoo’s heart thudded. When what? But he didn’t push. Instead, he brushed a tear from her cheek, his touch gentle despite the storm in his chest. “You didn’t mean to hurt him. You were honest. That’s enough.”

She shook her head, clinging to his sleeve. “It’s not just that. I messed up with you too. I pulled away because I was scared, and now you’re mad at me, and I don’t blame you, but I—” Her voice cracked. “Do you still want to be my friend, Wonwoo? Please?”

He stared at her, something breaking inside. Mad? He wasn’t mad—not really. He was terrified of losing her, furious at himself for letting it get this far. Her question, so small and raw, undid him.

“Y/N,” he said, voice soft but firm. He cupped her face, wiping another tear with his thumb. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She blinked, lips trembling. “Really?”

He chuckled, a low sound that warmed the cold night. “You think I’d let you ditch me that easily? You’re stuck with me, chaos and all.”

She laughed through her tears, a shaky, relieved sound, and hugged him again, burying her face in his chest. “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too,” he murmured, resting his chin on her head. His heart screamed to say more—to tell her how her distance gutted him, how Jaehyun’s name in her stories felt like a punch, how he loved her in a way that wasn’t just friends. But not now. Not when she was hurting.

They stood there, her sobs quieting, his arms steady around her. The park was silent, save for the rustle of leaves, but to Y/N, it felt like the world was right again—Wonwoo was here, and that was enough.

For now.

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

Y/N and Wonwoo were back to their old rhythm—or close enough. The park reunion had patched the cracks in their friendship, and Y/N, true to form, dove back in with double the chaos. She was a whirlwind again, flooding Wonwoo’s phone with texts, voice notes, and photos of every stray cat she’d spotted during their months apart.

One afternoon, she barged into Seventeen’s practice room, arms full of convenience store snacks. “Wonwoo! Guys! I got jjajangmyeon-flavored chips and those weird gummy worms you like!” she announced, dumping the haul on the floor.

Wonwoo, stretching nearby, raised an eyebrow. “You bought the whole store again, didn’t you?”

“Only the good stuff!” She grinned, plopping beside him and launching into a story about her Star Buddies taping. “So, I tripped on a rope during this obstacle course, and Jaehyun caught me, but I still faceplanted into a pile of balloons. Balloons, Wonwoo! I looked like a human piñata!”

He chuckled, patting her head absently. “Sounds about right. You’re a walking disaster.”

She stuck out her tongue but leaned into his touch, unbothered. The members exchanged glances—Hoshi’s smirk, Jeonghan’s knowing nod. Wonwoo was smiling again, his quiet warmth back. Y/N’s energy filled the room, and he soaked it up like he’d been starving for it.

Later, as they sat eating, she scrolled through her phone, shoving it in his face. “Look at this cat I saw yesterday! Orange, fluffy, total Wonwoo vibes. I named him Glasses Jr.!”

“Stop naming things after me,” he muttered, but his lips twitched, and he zoomed in on the photo. “It’s cute, though.”

“Right? I have, like, fifty more. Hang on—” She swiped through her gallery, narrating each cat’s imaginary backstory while Wonwoo listened, nodding like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Mingyu leaned over to Vernon, whispering, “They’re back to normal. Thank God. Grumpy Wonwoo was getting old.”

“Normal?” Vernon snorted. “They’re one step from holding hands and calling it ‘friendship.’”

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

But normal wasn’t quite normal. The spark was back—stronger, brighter. It was in the way Y/N’s laugh made Wonwoo’s chest tighten, or how her arm brushing his sent a jolt through her. Their hugs lingered a beat too long, their smiles carried a weight they didn’t name. When she’d fall asleep on his shoulder during movie nights, he’d freeze, afraid to wake her but memorizing the moment. When he’d adjust her scarf on a chilly day, she’d blush but pretend it was the cold.

The members saw it—Seungkwan’s eye-rolls, Dino’s not-so-subtle “Just date already!” when they bickered. Even fans noticed, old #WonYN clips resurfacing with comments like “they’re soulmates, fight me.” But neither dared speak it. Not yet.

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

Then, in early 2020, a storm hit. A blurry photo surfaced online—Wonwoo at a café, a girl leaning close, laughing. The caption? “Seventeen’s Wonwoo spotted on a date!” Fans exploded, some defensive, others shipping the “mystery girl.” It spread like wildfire, and Y/N saw it before Wonwoo could explain.

She was at her dorm, scrolling Twitter, when the photo popped up. Her stomach dropped. The girl was pretty—smiling, casual, someone who looked like she fit his quiet world. Y/N’s mind spiraled. Is he seeing someone? Did I miss my chance? The thought of him with someone else—someone not her—stung more than she’d expected.

She didn’t text him. Didn’t call. Instead, she pulled back again, slower this time. No practice room visits, no cat photos, no late-night rants. Her texts became polite, short. “Busy today, talk later!” She hated it, but the fear was louder than her heart.

Wonwoo felt the shift immediately. Her silence was deafening—worse than before. He’d scroll through their old chats, her absence a weight he couldn’t shake. The rumor? He barely cared about it until he realized she did. And he hated himself for not seeing it sooner.

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

One evening, fed up, he grabbed his jacket and headed to her place. No plan, just a need to fix this. When he knocked, Y/N opened the door, her hair in a messy bun, eyes tired. She didn’t smile—just stepped aside and shuffled to her couch, curling into a blanket.

“Hey,” he said, closing the door. “You’ve been... quiet.”

“Just busy,” she mumbled, staring at her TV. It was off.

He frowned, sitting across from her. “Y/N, what’s going on? You’re doing it again—pulling away.”

She shrugged, picking at her blanket. “I’m fine, Wonwoo. You don’t have to check on me.”

“Bullshit,” he said, sharper than he meant. She flinched, and he softened, leaning forward. “Talk to me. Please.”

Her eyes flicked to him, guarded. “I saw the photo. You and that girl. Everyone’s saying you’re dating.”

He blinked, then groaned, running a hand through his hair. “That’s what this is about? Y/N, it’s not true. She’s a friend of a friend—Seungcheol’s, actually. We were at a group hangout, she went to the bathroom, and some fan snapped a pic. That’s it.”

She bit her lip, unconvinced. “It looked... real. You were smiling.”

“Because she told a dumb joke!” He laughed, exasperated. “I wasn’t on a date. I wouldn’t—” He stopped, heart pounding. The words were there, heavy, begging to spill.

Y/N stood, crossing her arms. “Wouldn’t what, Wonwoo? It’s fine if you’re seeing someone. You don’t owe me anything.”

He shot up, frustration boiling over. “I wouldn’t date someone if it wasn’t you.”

She froze, eyes wide, breath catching. “What?”

He stepped closer, voice low but steady. “You heard me. I don’t want anyone else, Y/N. I never have. It’s always been you.”

Her heart raced, the room spinning. She’d spent months—years—burying this, convincing herself it was just friendship. But here he was, saying it, and it unraveled everything. “Wonwoo, you... you can’t just say that.”

“Why not?” He closed the distance, eyes searching hers. “I hate this—watching you slip away, pretending I’m okay with it. I let you go once, and it was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. I’m not doing it again.”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she laughed, shaky. “You’re an idiot. I pulled away because I was scared—scared I’d ruin us. I love you, Wonwoo, and not just as my best friend. I’ve loved you for so long, and it terrified me.”

He stared, processing, then broke into a soft, disbelieving smile. “You love me?”

“Duh,” she sniffled, poking his chest. “Why do you think I was such a mess about that stupid rumor?”

He caught her hand, pulling her into a hug. “We’re both idiots,” he murmured into her hair. “I love you too. More than you know.”

She melted into him, clinging like she used to, but this time it was different—raw, real. “So... what now?”

He pulled back, brushing a tear from her cheek. “Now? We stop being dumb. Be with me, Y/N. No more running.”

She laughed, loud and bright, the sound he’d missed most. “Deal. But I’m still sending you cat pics.”“I’d be pissed if you didn’t,” he said, and when he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, the spark they’d danced around for years finally caught fire

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

The past years was a soft kind of chaos for Y/N and Wonwoo. From their high school days—her loud chatter breaking through his quiet world—to their confession that finally set their spark ablaze, they’d built something unbreakable. Now, as lovers, they were a study in contrasts that somehow fit perfectly. Wonwoo, once allergic to skinship, melted under Y/N’s touch. Y/N, always a clingy whirlwind, was now extra—draping herself over him like a human blanket, stealing his hoodies, and demanding his attention with a pout that could topple empires.

Tonight, they were at Wonwoo and Mingyu’s shared apartment, a cozy space cluttered with gaming gear, Seventeen merch, and Y/N’s stray hair ties. Mingyu was off filming some solo schedule, leaving the place to them. Wonwoo was glued to his gaming setup, headset on, fingers flying across the keyboard as he battled in some online match. Y/N, sprawled on his bed in one of his oversized shirts, was... less than thrilled.

“Wonwoo,” she whined, kicking her feet against the mattress. “Did you hear what I said? So, at the studio today, they tried to make me do this weird choreography, and I was like, ‘I’m a singer, not a contortionist!’ I swear, I almost fell on my face.”

“Mm,” he mumbled, eyes locked on the screen. “Cool.”

She huffed, sitting up. “Cool? That’s it? I could’ve broken my neck, and you’d still be like, ‘Nice, babe.’”

“Yup,” he said, clicking furiously. A victory screen flashed, and he leaned back, smirking. “Got ‘em.”

Y/N glared at the back of his head, then at his gaming PC. If that thing were a person, she’d have words. Harsh ones. “You and that computer are in a serious relationship. I’m just the side chick.”

He snorted but didn’t turn around. “You’re dramatic.”

“And you’re ignoring me!” She flopped back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m literally right here, looking cute, telling iconic stories, and you’re out here marrying your keyboard.”

“Five more minutes,” he said, already queuing another match.

That was it. Y/N had enough. With a theatrical groan, she rolled off the bed, snatching his blanket and—most importantly—Foxdungee, the Miniteen character plushie she’d gifted him last Christmas. “Fine! If you’re gonna be like that, I’m taking your kid and leaving!”

She stormed out, blanket trailing like a cape, Foxdungee tucked under her arm. Wonwoo’s room fell quiet, but he was too deep in his game to notice—yet.

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

In the living room, Y/N flopped onto the couch, cocooning herself in the blanket until she was a burrito of pettiness. She hugged Foxdungee tight, its little glasses and fox ears squishing against her cheek. “Your dad’s the worst,” she muttered, glaring at the plushie. “All he does is play that stupid game. What about me, huh? I’m fun! I’m adorable! But nooo, he’s too busy being a nerd.”

She grabbed the remote, scrolling through streaming options. “If he wants to ignore me, you’re my date now, Foxdungee. We’re watching Barbie: Princess Charm School because it’s a classic, and you deserve culture.”

The TV lit up with Barbie’s sparkly world, and Y/N settled in, narrating to the plushie like it was a person. “See, Blair’s got dreams, just like me. And she doesn’t need a dumb gaming boyfriend to shine.” She giggled at a scene where Blair tripped, then sighed. “Okay, maybe I trip like her too. Don’t tell your dad.”

Halfway through Barbie’s makeover montage, the room felt... too quiet. No keyboard clicks, no Wonwoo muttering about “lag.” Y/N’s pout deepened. She missed him, even if he was a distracted nerd. She hugged Foxdungee tighter, whispering, “He’s probably still playing. Jerk.”

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

Wonwoo, meanwhile, had noticed the silence. His game ended, and the absence of Y/N’s voice hit like a dropped beat. No chatter, no giggles, no dramatic sighs. He pulled off his headset, glancing at the empty bed. When did she leave? Guilt crept in—he’d been deep in his zone, but he hadn’t meant to ignore her.

He wandered into the living room, pausing at the sight. Y/N was a blanket burrito on the couch, Foxdungee clutched like a lifeline, laughing at Barbie outwitting a villain. Her hair was a mess, his shirt dwarfed her, and she looked so adorably grumpy that his heart did a flip.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the doorway.

Y/N glanced up, spotted him, and—petty queen—rolled her eyes before turning back to the TV. “Oh, look, Foxdungee, it’s your dad. Too bad we’re busy having fun without him.”

She hugged the plushie tighter, muttering loud enough for him to hear, “At least you don’t ignore me for pixels.”

Wonwoo bit back a laugh, her sulky vibe too cute to handle. He crossed the room, crouching in front of her so she couldn’t avoid him. “You’re really mad at me over a game?”

She refused to meet his eyes, chin tilted up. “I’m not mad. I’m thriving. Me and Foxdungee are having the best date ever. Right, buddy?” She wiggled the plushie’s arms, making it “nod.”

He chuckled, low and warm, and her resolve wobbled. That laugh—her kryptonite. “Y/N,” he said, voice soft, “I’m sorry. I got carried away. Didn’t mean to ditch you.”

She finally looked at him, pout still in full force. “You said ‘five minutes’ an hour ago. I was telling you about my day, and you were like, ‘Mm, yup.’ I’m not a podcast you can half-listen to, Jeon Wonwoo.”

He winced, rubbing his neck. “Fair. I was a jerk. But you know I love your stories.”

“Do you?” She hugged Foxdungee closer, eyes narrowing. “Because your computer seems to get all your love.”

He grinned, leaning closer. “Jealous of my PC? That’s a new one.”

“I will fight it,” she huffed. “I’ll smash it with a hammer and dance on the pieces.”

“Please don’t. It’s expensive.” He reached out, tugging Foxdungee gently from her grip. “And stop stealing my kid to make me jealous.”

She gasped, grabbing for the plushie. “Foxdungee chose me! You don’t deserve him!”

They tussled lightly, laughing until Wonwoo let her win, Foxdungee back in her arms. He sat beside her, pulling the blanket over both of them. “Truce?”

She side-eyed him but scooted closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “Maybe. But you’re on thin ice, mister.”

“Noted.” He wrapped an arm around her, fingers tracing circles on her arm. “What’s Barbie up to? Catch me up.”

Her face lit up, and she launched into a recap, voice bright and chaotic. “Okay, so Blair’s at this fancy school, right? And there’s this mean girl, Delancy, who’s totally jealous—”

He listened, nodding like it was a TED Talk, and she melted into him, her earlier grumpiness fading. This was them—her loud, him quiet, but always tethered. Wonwoo, who’d once flinched at hugs, now craved her closeness. He glanced down at her, eyes soft. How did I get this lucky?

The movie played on, but Y/N’s narration slowed, her head heavy on his chest. “You’re comfy,” she mumbled, nuzzling closer. “Better than Foxdungee.”

“High praise,” he teased, kissing her temple. Her hair smelled like his shampoo, and it made his heart do stupid flips. “Sorry I got sucked into gaming. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better,” she yawned. “I want breakfast tomorrow. Pancakes. With chocolate chips.”

“Deal.” He pulled the blanket higher, tucking her in. “But you’re not allowed to hog the syrup again.”

“No promises,” she giggled, voice fading as she drifted off.

Wonwoo watched her sleep, her lips parted, Foxdungee squished against her cheek. Barbie’s credits rolled, but he didn’t move, just held her closer. The world could wait—this moment, her warmth, her chaos, was all he needed.

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an: Hello! I've been receiving requests, hehe. Please bear with me—I'm a bit busy right now, but I'll get to them all. Just drop your requests, and I'll write them one by one hehe. I hope you like this! I feel like something's missing here, but yeah, HAHAHAH

[yerkyokuler]

“Can You Step Out?”

Jude Bellingham x Reader

Warnings: postpartum, insecurity

Genre: angst and fluff, obviously

Word Count: over 3k , sorry 🥲

Thank you so much for the like on my first post, it means the world! Let me know if you want a part 2!

⸻

The living room was filled with the low hum of a lullaby toy, something soft and twinkly that looped endlessly as Percy kicked his chubby legs in the playpen. The sun was just beginning to set, casting a warm, golden light across the floorboards. You’d opened the windows earlier to let in the late afternoon air, and now a gentle breeze fluttered the sheer curtains. The house smelled faintly of baby lotion and Jude’s cologne—woody, musky, warm. Safe.

He was crouched down by the playpen in his white T-shirt—simple, fitted, sleeves rolled a little to show the muscle along his arms, black trousers hugging him just right. He was laughing at something Percy had done, something so small you probably would’ve missed it—a wrinkle of the nose, a gurgle of joy—but Jude looked at him like he’d just invented the moon.

You were in the bedroom, rifling through your side of the closet, trying to find something—anything—that still felt like you.

Tonight was supposed to be nice. Your first real evening out alone since Percy was born seven and a half months ago. You had a reservation. You had a sitter. You had Jude, so excited about it he’d played music while ironing his own shirt like it was prom night.

But now, standing in your bra and jeans, you were holding a dress you used to love and staring at it like it belonged to someone else.

Your body wasn’t the same. You knew that. You’d carried life, delivered him, fed him. But the way your hips had shifted, the way your skin stretched, the way your stomach now had a softness it never used to—it made the idea of this dress suddenly unbearable.

It felt like pretending. Like you were squeezing yourself into a version of yourself Jude hadn’t signed up for.

You heard him coming down the hall, his steps familiar. You quickly clutched the dress to your chest and called out, voice more brittle than you meant it to be.

“Can you—um… can you step out? I just wanna change.”

He stopped in the doorway. Confused at first. You saw the hesitation cross his face.

“Oh—yeah, of course,” he said, voice light. “You okay?”

You nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just… I’m good. Just gimme a sec.”

He lingered a moment. Then nodded, flashing you a quick smile. “Alright. Shout if you need help with the zip, yeah?”

You shut the door gently after he turned away and leaned back against it. That smile of his—it always made things worse when you were holding onto feelings you didn’t want to share. It was too kind. Too easy to believe in.

⸻

Down the hall, Jude walked back to the living room slowly, chewing on the inside of his cheek. You’d never asked him to step out like that before. Not even once. You’d always been pretty open, even when you weren’t feeling your best. Which meant…

Something was off.

He knelt back down beside Percy, who was now gnawing on a rubber giraffe like it owed him money. “What’s up with Mummy, hmm?” he asked softly.

Percy blinked up at him with those wide brown eyes—the same ones Jude saw in the mirror every morning—and let out a happy sigh that sounded like a whistle. Jude ruffled his dark curls, but he kept glancing toward the bedroom.

He thought about the dress you were holding. The one he loved seeing you in—the way it made your eyes look even brighter. But maybe you didn’t love it anymore. Maybe it didn’t feel the same.

He sat back, resting on his hands, and looked at the wall for a while. Listening. Thinking. Trying to remember the last time you talked about how you felt—about your body, about all the changes. He’d been so wrapped up in loving Percy, in making sure you had help and rest and food and warmth… but had he stopped looking? Had he stopped seeing you?

⸻

You gave up on the dress. It was too tight around the ribs anyway. Everything felt too snug. Like your body didn’t belong to you.

You pulled on a different outfit—looser, easier. Still nice, but safer. You paused in front of the mirror and adjusted the top, your fingertips brushing your soft stomach. Your chest. The stretch marks that traced your hips now like rivers.

The words came out in a whisper before you even meant them to.

“Doesn’t feel like me anymore.”

And when you turned to grab your earrings, there was a knock at the door.

Soft.

Gentle.

“Babe?”

You swallowed. “Yeah?”

“…Can I come in?”

You hesitated. Then sighed. “Yeah. Come in.”

The door opened slowly, and Jude stepped in, careful, like he knew he was walking into a place that felt delicate.

His eyes fell on you, and they softened instantly. But not out of pity. Not sadness. Just love.

“Hey,” he said.

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Hey.”

He didn’t rush to touch you, didn’t barrel in with solutions. Just stood there, watching you with a kind of patient quiet. “You don’t like it?”

You shrugged. “It’s fine. I just… I thought I did. I don’t know.”

His brow furrowed gently. “Is it the dress or… something else?”

You tried to brush it off. “It’s dumb. Doesn’t matter.”

His voice didn’t waver. “Matters to me.”

You looked away, your throat tightening. “It’s just… I don’t feel like myself. Not really. And I don’t know what you see when you look at me, but it’s not what I see anymore. And I didn’t want you to see me standing there like that—looking weird and stretched and just… not me.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

Jude’s eyes didn’t leave you once. He took a step forward, then another, until he was standing right in front of you.

“Can I say something?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, blinking quickly.

He touched your arm gently. “You say you’re not you… but all I see when I look at you is exactly who you are. The woman I love. The mother of my son. The person who carried him and loved him before I even knew what he’d look like.”

He paused, reaching for your hand. “You look at yourself and see stretch marks and softness and changes. I look at you and see the person who gave me the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You made him. You made Percy. Every bit of you that changed… it changed because of love. Because of life. And that’s not something I’ll ever want to unsee.”

Your eyes burned. “You say that, but—”

“I say that because I mean it,” he interrupted gently. “And I see you. Still. Always.”

You sniffled, laughing once, watery. “You’re making it really hard to be mad at my own body right now.”

He grinned. “Good. Your body deserves better than your anger.”

You leaned into him then, and his arms wrapped around you instantly. Strong. Familiar. Warm.

He kissed your temple. “You smell like my shampoo.”

“I used it ‘cause I ran out of mine.”

He pulled back to look at you, eyes playful. “You sure you didn’t use it just so I’d spend the whole evening trying not to climb over the dinner table?”

You laughed, smacking his chest lightly. “Jude.”

“What?” he said, feigning innocence. “You’re my wife. I can’t be a little obsessed?”

He leaned in, nosing at your jaw. “You have to know you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Like this. Right now. Exactly as you are.”

You melted under his words, forehead resting against his. “Thank you. I needed that more than I knew.”

“You’re allowed to not love everything right away,” he murmured. “But just know—I love it. I love you. And I want you to feel like you again. Whatever that looks like. Even if it means trying on every outfit in the closet until we’re late.”

You smiled, and this time it reached your eyes. “You’re not even mad?”

He raised a brow. “You kidding? You could wear your old dressing gown from uni and I’d still be staring.”

You laughed, cheeks warm. “Now that’s a lie.”

He stepped back, eyes running down your figure with a smirk. “Nope. But this?” he added, pointing to your current outfit. “This is doing things to me.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the way he looked at you—like you were something holy—it stayed with you. From the playpen, Percy let out a squeal. You both turned, and Jude’s face lit up again.

“I think he’s cheering for you,” Jude said, grabbing your hand and pulling you gently toward the door. “Or maybe for himself.

He did get your good looks, after all.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder as you walked.

“He has your eyes,” you whispered. “And your smile.”

Jude laughed. “Good. He’ll need ‘em. Especially with the way I plan on embarrassing him in front of his future dates.” You both paused at the doorway, watching Percy roll over with determination.

Jude’s arm slipped around your waist.

“You ready to go?” he asked.

You looked up at him, then down at your son, then back at yourself in the hallway mirror.

Maybe you weren’t exactly who you used to be. Maybe that was okay.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I think I am.”

And as Jude leaned down to kiss you again—slow, certain, grateful—you finally let yourself believe him.

[livingmybestfakelife]

Concrete Rose

After recovering from camera flashes burning your eyes and the pack of people screaming your ears off. You had yourself a well needed glass of champagne that was offered to you by one of the waiters. Your manager Jerry, the slime ball that he is, had guided you through the private room of the Winifred Hotel to greet the other guests. You all had just gotten back from the Los Angeles premiere of your new picture, and now you’re at the after party that you honestly didn’t want to be attending. But it would be in bad taste to not be here when the studio had paid big bucks to make it happen. Oh well, next month your contract will expire and hopefully with your record of bringing in box office success, they’ll let you negotiate fewer movie deals.

But that was just wishful thinking. These people were greedy and wanted every dime out of their stars at all costs. Which is why when you begin to show signs of not being able to handle the long film hours, they instructed Jerry to put you on some Benzedrine, which you quickly became addicted to, so to mellow you out and make sure you slept you were also put on Veronal. Your body began to get even more sick from being on it, but you also felt drained from being off of it. You didn’t know what to do or who to turn to. Hollywood isn’t the most sympathetic place, especially not to an actor. So you swallowed down your feelings and decided that the show must go on.

After being talked to death by all of the sycophants and hanger ons. You walked towards your table, but before you could sit down you heard a familiar voice fill the room.

“There’s my girl!”

You turn around to see Stack in one of his favorite suits and hat. His huge and charismatic smile stays on his face as he walks towards you and engulfs you into a warm tight hug. His cologne is sure to stick to your dress which you don’t mind, you missed the comfort of him being in your presence. He and Smoke were a constant cloud hanging over you your entire life. In both a good and bad way. Good in a way that you had protection, guidance and support when your folks were working or you were out and about outside of their watchful eyes. And bad whenever you wanted independence, to think for yourself and make your own decisions. No one ever asked them to be what they were to you, they didn’t have to, it’s what they assigned themselves to do.

Their mother and yours had a girlhood bond that never died, even when the twins’s mother’s passed away. Your mama kept her memory alive. It was so strong that the adoration they shared with one another was the same type their children inherited with each other. They had gotten pregnant within the same year, the twins being born seven months earlier than you. You’d think it was seven years earlier with how overprotective they were, as if you were a baby who need the big kids to watch over you like a hawk. People who didn’t know y’all would’ve thought you were siblings with how close you were, but no, they were just a pair of misfits who didn’t play about you.

“Stack? Whatcha doing here? I thought you were still in Chicago”

“Yes well we’re on vacation….why aren’t you happy to see us?”

“Of course I am just wasn’t expecting you”

Smoke stepped up from behind Stack and hugged you as well. Though his was less suffocating. His eyes lingered around your face and the rest of your body as if he was checking for any abnormalities. He was satisfied that you were physically in one piece, but something still bothered his spirit, he could see it in your eyes that you weren’t in any emotional peace. It was one of the things that you hated about him, that he was so observant and could read you so well. Sure, Stack would notice some things, he wasn’t an idiot, but you and Smoke held a different type of bond that Stack couldn’t get from you. And he preferred it that way, he was always the one who reminded you to come to him whenever something was wrong, that he’d handle it if it was something very serious. He felt some guilt that he felt like he was hiding things from Stack, but once you two began talking and tuned out the world, he forgot all about how his little brother would feel.

“Hey Stack, why don’t you go get yourself something to eat”

Stack sucked his teeth, he didn’t like how he was being pushed away.

“Man we just started talking, what’s the rush?”

“Just for a minute, you’ll get your chance”

“Yeah whatever, hey don’t go too far, I’ll be right back”

Once he was out of the way, Smoke lifted his arm so that you can snake yours around his and you two walked to your table. He pulled your seat out and you gracefully sat down like you were taught to do in the etiquette classes that the studio had you attend early into your career. He pushed your chair in and sat next to you. You waited for him to bombard you with the questions you were expecting. He picked at the table cloth that was draped over the round table, he didn’t care for this environment, he despised it just as much as you did. It was too stiff for his liking, he knew that he and his brother were being judged the second they walked through the hotel doors, unfortunately for everyone else they weren’t intimidated by the stares and whispers, they weren’t there to impress anyone, their only mission tonight was to check on their friend and to find out if the information they heard through the grapevine was true.

“Jerry been doing right by you?”

You nod and took a sip of your champagne, he knew that by you avoiding his eyes you were lying, it’s like you forgotten that he knew you like the back of his hand.

“He been drugging you?”

You cough from your drink going down the wrong pipe, you never got used to him not mincing his words, he got straight to the point every time, refusing to sugar coat things, it was a waste of time.

“Where the hell did you hear that from?”

“It’s true ain’t it?”

You sigh and place your drink down.

“If you mean making sure I take my medicine as scheduled then yes”

“That ain’t no medicine you should be taking and you know it, ain’t even prescribed by a respectable doctor”

“Smoke please, you wouldn’t understand”

“I understand that you’re being used as a circus animal, hopped up on bullshit you don’t need!”

“Keep your voice down”

“I don’t give a shit if these muthafuckas hear me! Let em!”

“Elijah please!”

He silences himself from his rant when you call him by his real name. He knew you were serious when you called him and Stack by the names their mama’s gave them, the look in your eyes hurt him, he didn’t enjoy when you looked like you were disgusted by him, you were supposed to be happy to see him, to feel safe and wanted, now it’s like you didn’t even want to know he existed, it broke his heart.

“Look I….I just didn’t like what I heard, that’s all, okay….hey look here”

He gently grabbed your chin and moved your head back to look at him. Only you could humble him like this, knock him from his high horse and shut him up. It wasn’t his intention to upset you or make you feel ashamed from your problem, Lord knows he was far from perfect himself and had his own ways of self medicating. But he wanted more than that for you, you were still sweet Little YN, the one Stack would hate being left out of playing with when y’all were youngin’s. He would do anything in his power to make sure you kept whatever innocence you had left in you.

“It’s just a little pick me up, it’s nothing, I can quit anytime I want”

He took you by the arm and placed you on his lap, when you cuddled up in his arms he saw the tears beginning to spill from your gorgeous eyes, the ones you got from your dear mother. He reached up and wiped them away and kissed your temple.

“We’re leaving okay. We’re gonna get you out of here”

“Wait, no we can’t I have to stay, Mr. Burnell-“

“Fuck Burnell, I’ll deal with him later, him and Jerry are gonna pay”

It was useless to argue with him anymore about this. The twins already heard the dirt, even while all the way in Chicago, the juicy details of what went down in Hollywood was nationwide, if not universal. And one of the eyes and ears they had working in the studio informed them that while things were fine the first few years of you being here, things soon turned how they typically did for pretty young starlets like yourself. You were overworked and overwhelmed and occasionally propositioned for inappropriate favors. The latter you managed to avoid actually having to be forced to go through with by this informant of theirs being one of the higher ups who had enough power to step in and prevent it from going any further than that. The letters, phone calls and occasional visits from Smoke and Stack wasn’t enough to shield you from the wolves that stalked around you every single day. It was time to come in and take matters into their own hands. They never wanted you in this industry in the first place, trying hard to convince you to work for them as their secretary in their “office” while in Chicago, but you wanted to live out your dream in the entertainment industry, so they finally gave in, a decision they’d regret for the rest of their lives.

You nodded and he helped you stand up and held the small of your back while guiding you out of the party. You keeping a kind face and excused yourself from the party, claiming exhaustion, which wasn’t too far from the truth. He kept you close to his side while you two made your trip to the elevator and while it took you to your room to the sixth floor. He unlocked the door with the key you gave him, but then he suddenly stopped you from walking any further. He felt as though something wasn’t right, his former war instincts kicking in when he smelled gun powder in the air. He told you to stay in the hallway while he pulled out his own piece and rushed inside, closing the door behind him. You were confused, you told yourself he was being paranoid, you weren’t close enough to the door to smell anything and you were too into your own head to feel the danger in the atmosphere, so you waited, and let Smoke have his little moment of overprotectiveness.

———————————————————————————

Smoke has his gun trained in front of him as he walked down the hallway that was in the entrance of the door. Once he turned the corner, what he saw in front of him wasn’t something he was expecting, at least not yet.

Laid out in a pool of his own blood was Jerry, the tall, lanky man was now even more paler than he naturally was. He was as dead as a dog, that much was obvious. He walked closer to the corpse and looked around to see who else could’ve been here, this wasn’t self inflicted, someone had took him out.

“Ay! Whoever is here come on out now!”

Soon some heavy footsteps walked out of the bathroom to his right. He spun in the direction and kept his gun pointed, out walked Stack with his sleeves rolled up and wiping his now bruised hands with one of the bath towels. Smoke put his gun back in his holster and stepped towards him.

“Stack what the fuck did you do?”

“I took out the trash”

“Dammit Stack! Why the fuck did you do that huh?! Ain’t no telling who could’ve heard them shots going off”

“Relax, I timed it with the fireworks”

“Man what the fuck?! Fuck! Fuck! Stack!”

“Ay man, calm your ass down, he’s out of the picture like we agreed to remember? Quit acting like you didn’t want his ass dead too”

“Of course I did but-“

“But what? Huh? He’s gone like we wanted. Riiight?”

“Stack you killed him in a public building”

“You acting like I wouldn’t know how to clean up after myself”

“St-“

“Or that you weren’t planning on doing it yourself”

He paused at his brother’s words. What he said and the way he looked him showed him that Stack knew something that he thought he kept well to himself and one of the mafiosos that he planned this out with.

“What? You thought I wouldn’t find out? Come on my nigga surely you don’t think I’m that stupid, that I play so much that I wouldn’t pay attention to your moves, that I wouldn’t know that those errands you had me do was a distraction to make sure I was out of the room while you and Ignatius planned out how to drop Jerry off of the face of the Earth? You think I’m stupid?”

He shook his head but Stack wouldn’t let him insult him anymore with whatever lie he was about to cook up. He had enough of the secrets and being pushed aside.

“You’ve been doing this shit to me ever since we were kids Smoke. You stuck me with the job to be the comedian that would keep her laughing, distract her from whatever bullshit life had thrown at us. All while you snuck off with her and let her tell you her deepest darkest secrets, let you kiss her, hold her….be her first time”

Smoke’s face gave himself away. Once again another secret that he thought was kept between you both, was one that Stack had known about all along.

“Yeah, didn’t think I knew about that shit huh? Muthafucka I saw the tail end of it, it was obvious when you were buttoning up the back of her dress that you had just got done making her a woman”

He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head.

“Stack, look, what YN and me have ain’t got nothing to do with you alright, it wasn’t on purpose and it wasn’t to hurt you”

“Nigga shut up, I don’t wanna hear nothing else from you tonight. Just call up Ignatius to help me with this”

Smoke gave up trying to reason with him, nothing he could say could mend the pain he caused him, even though it wasn’t on purpose, you and Smoke really did have more chemistry with one another when came to matters of the heart. Stack was your heart but Smoke was your soul.

Before he could attend to his request, the door opened and closed and soon you walked around the corner and your mouth trembled looking at Jerry’s dead body. You looked at the twins who cursed themselves that you had to see this. Though you were no stranger to violence, having grown up in neighborhood that was its own version of the Wild West, you never actually saw a dead body in person outside of a funeral, it was surreal to you.

“Baby doll, I had to do it, he was gonna kill me first”

Stack had managed to convince you that Jerry had gotten upset at them coming back to Los Angeles after hearing how he was contributing to your excessive drug use. That when Jerry caught him packing your bags, he came in cussing up a storm and demanded he leave. And when he refused, Jerry had came at him with a knife and that’s when he shot him. The crime scene looked convincing enough, the knife wasn’t too far away from Jerry’s corpse and your bags were halfway packed. You had no reason to believe he was lying, and it’s not like Jerry wouldn’t have eventually been killed by someone else anyway, having more enemies besides the infamous Smoke Stack Twins. You nodded and walked over to Stack and hugged him, he once again held you tight and kissed your bare shoulder, all while Smoke watched on. Stack had grown tired of his big brother being the one who took on majority of the credit of protecting you, being the one you took more seriously when it came to your well being, tonight he held the title of your hero.

“Hey listen to me okay, I want you to go back downstairs and get yourself something to eat, if anyone asks, say you wanted to put something on your stomach before going to bed, once I come back down to get you all of this will be cleaned up and we’ll go over our cover story alright?”

You nod and kiss his cheek. Smoke watches as you rush out of the room before turning back around. He couldn’t think of anything to say to him right now, his nerves still bad about everything, all he could do was nod and go to the phone and had the operator connect him to Ignatius’s house.

“Hey, you’re late for the card game, you coming or what?”

“Nah I’m coming, be there soon”

They both hang up and an awkward silence clouds the room.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Would you have taken me seriously? Or just think I’d treat her like the other women who’d entertain me around town?”

“YN ain’t that kind of girl, Stack”

“You think I don’t know that? I would’ve never played with her!”

“I know that”

“Then how come you never backed off? You know me well enough to know I felt”

“Because I didn’t want her to look at any other man the way she looks at me”

“Not even me?”

He looks away. That was all the answer he needed. After that night things would go back to normal, the three of you would leave Los Angeles after Smoke had bought you out of your contract. It was back to Chicago for all of you, the twins would continue with their business with Al Capone and you would become the secretary they wanted you to be. But the tension between the brothers would continue to hang in the air, you would remain oblivious to it, but the twins would always be reminded of it every time they looked at one another.

tags:

@rolemodelshit

@uzumaki-rebellion

@childishgambinaax

[miniwheat77]

No fun. (Captain Price x Reader.)

!nsfw, smut, p in v sex, reader dealing with a crisis, unprotected sex, alcohol, choking, talk of suicide. NO MINORS!

Please enjoy the shit show I’m going through, happy birthday to me or whatever.

They only want you when you’re seventeen. When you’re twenty-one, you’re no fun…

Eyes glossed over, world spinning. This is normal.

This is completely normal, most people spend their birthday sitting at a dingy bar, on their fifth glass of the cheapest liquor they have. Oh who are you kidding…

You had dried blood on your knuckles, underneath your black jacket was a blood stained shirt. It was a mix of your blood and whoever else’s after the mission you’d been on. It didn’t go so well and you’d been beat and slashed but it was a better way to spend your birthday than how you’d originally planned it. Though you expected someone to notice what day it was. Everyone always remembered birthdays, even last year on leave you got a text from Johnny at least.

But after she joined the base, you rarely if ever heard from any of them anymore. A new recruit, freshly out of boot camp. She was only on base for a few short months before they shipped her off somewhere else but she’d grasped the attention of the entire task force.

You weren’t jealous or angry. You actually quite liked the girl. She had her head screwed on straight for being so young and that’s what the military needed.

It was the nostalgia that killed you. You missed being a teenager. You miss the innocence that came with not being battle hardened. You missed when people showed interest and now, you were getting older and people wanted maturity. You missed the high school flings, breaking the rules. But here you were. Where you always seemed to be anymore.

Tipping back another glass of Jameson.

Most days you spent hungover. Sick to your stomach and you skipped meals like crazy but who really even gave a damn. They saw it but they didn’t ask. The abnormally pale skin, weight loss. More specifically, the shaky hands when you chugged coffee in the mornings to hide the liquor on your breath.

It was part of the military, who cares. They sure as hell didn’t. They only cared about themselves and that girl.

It didn’t end. Falling into bed shitfaced, eyes full of tears as you thought about the fact that there was no end in sight of this suffering. Only a black hole, sucking you deeper and deeper until you bottomed out and gave in. Either to the voice in the back of your head telling you to end it all, or to the addiction that slowly consumed you. At this point? You didn’t care anymore. Who would’ve guessed that your mid-to-late twenties held more staggered walks home from the bar than random hookups or a baby on the way like everyone else at this age.

Your lip was split, cheek was slashed. Busted knuckles clutched a bottle as you sat on the sidewalk and ignored the way you felt. And that was it.

Happy Birthday Y/N.

Captain Price was looking for you. He always checked up on people after missions and you’d taken a particularly bad beating but you didn’t really seem to care.

Captain Price had all but watched the spark burn out in your eyes. Something he hated but was rather familiar with. The military did things to people. He couldn’t find you anywhere, which made him worry. “Has anyone seen Y/N?” He asks. The young girl bites her lip. Looking away quickly and he notices immediately. “What is it?”

“Think she’s at the bar again Captain…” she trails off. “What? Y/N never goes to the bar.”

She looks utterly shocked. “Than we clearly don’t know the same Y/N.” She mumbles. “What?”

“She’s been at the bar every single night for the last few months. I didn’t want to say anything but I’m getting rather worried.” He thinks to himself. Had he noticed anything off about you? “That doesn’t sound like Y/N at all.” He mumbles. “That’s the truth. She’s got all the tale tell signs too. Pale, shaky, doesn’t eat. I mean she comes in late all the time. I’ve asked her a few times how she’s doing but she just brushes me off with an ‘I’m fine’ and goes on with her day. I mean… Y/N is insane on the field and that guy nearly took her head off with a knife today.”

Captain Price’s stomach drops. The spark in your eyes really was fading. Your love for the field was dissipating rather quickly and he’d missed it. All of it. He looks down, confused. He walks away without another word, to his office. You’d been struggling this bad and he’d never noticed it before? Who went to the bar after such a bad mission anyways? As bad as you’d been hurt, you should be recovering in the infirmary. That’s where he went to check on you, where you said you’d be. You must’ve slipped out then. He opens your file on his computer, seeing the photo that had been on that folder for years now. You smiled so wide. He’d hate to see how unhappy your next photo would be.

Y/N Y/L/N

DOB: xx-xx-xxxx

Something felt off about that… the numbers on the screen.

He glances down to the corner of the computer, reading the exact date.

Nine o’clock.

He stands up, nearly shoving his desk over as he hurries. He grabs his jacket, rushing for the door. “In a hurry, cap?” Soap smiles. “Yeah. It’s Y/N’s fucking birthday and we forgot.”

The look of horror on Gaz and Soap should’ve been something you’d laugh about usually. But you wouldn’t have been interested, not anymore.

Your mind races as you look down at the rushing water, how good it would feel rushing over your injured skin. Carrying your lifeless body down a rapid current, pulling you under. The buzzing, floating. It sounded like peace. Like an end to whatever this is. You don’t remember walking here. You thought when you woke up this morning to your Captain calling each of you for a last minute mission that it was a surprise party. They’d given her one.. the new girl. She had balloons and so many gifts from the task force you’d lost count. You’d gotten her a set of customized grips for her sidearm. She was ecstatic.

You got nothing in return.

Your hands shook violently as you held them over the rapid flowing water. You were so close now that it misted your shaking hands. You were so close…

It was so cold. It won’t be long now.

The five of them rushed into the bar, nearly knocking over barstools and a rack of pool cues as they went. Rushing up to the bartender. “Have you seen this girl?” Captain Price asks in a hurry. Holding up a photo of you. “Y/N? Yeah. Like every night for the last few months.” The young guy behind the counter smiles. “Have you seen her tonight?” He asks. “Of course I have, she just left bout twenty minutes ago. Although tonight she looked rough. You guys must be her military buddies. When she first started coming in she talked about you guys all the time.” He smiles. “Although these days she keeps to herself.” He mumbles. “Anyways. I’m not supposed to tell anyone but when she leaves here, she buys a bottle of Jack and goes for a walk, tonight she said the bridge over the river.”

Captain Price’s stomach drops. “You let her leave with alcohol? Isn’t that against the law?” Ghost asks, angrily. The guy smiles. “You’d have to have seen her these last couple weeks to understand. Poor girl is really going through it.” He looks sympathetic. He scoffs, turning his back. “I’ll stay here in case she comes back. You guys go.” The young girl nods.

They hurried back out into the pouring rain, piling into Captain Price’s truck and he speeds down the road to get to the bridge, only hoping things weren’t as bad as they seemed.

You’d staggered your way back up the bank to the bridge. You were soaked head to toe and you sat on the brick railing of the old bridge. Who knows, maybe the old thing would give way and you’d die in a terrible accident.

Your feet swung back and forth as you tipped the bottle of Jack back. It didn’t burn anymore. You were too hammered to taste anything. Your jacket was sopping wet, not providing any warmth anymore. You dreaded going back to that base. Having to look them in the eyes and pretend as if nothing is wrong when everything so clearly was. You’d tried so hard to talk about your feelings to anyone who’d listen but they wouldn’t. Even Laswell had shrugged you off when you’d mentioned to her how bad these days have been. It was a “chin up, you’re just tired.”

You are tired. So… so tired. You wiped your mouth, another set of headlights illuminated the bridge behind you. But nobody stopped.

You didn’t expect them too. You were just a lonely person dressed in black. Contemplating the depth. How many feet was it you think? One-hundred feet? One-fifty? Not too bad anyways…

Your eyes barely stayed open, everything was so blurry but the rush of the rapid river was so peaceful. You tilt your head back and let that spinning feeling wind you up. It usually made you sick, but tonight felt different.

“I’m such a bad fucking Captain.” He shakes his head, mumbling angry to himself. “Captain you can’t blame yourself. She hasn’t asked for help, she hasn’t confided in anyone.” Soap mumbles. “How are we supposed to know if she doesn’t tell us?”

“She has been trying to tell us. For weeks now. Even Laswell brought up how Y/N had come to her about a few bad days. I thought nothing of it. I swear if she’s jumped…” he hisses. “I should have noticed. She was in my office talking to me everyday for a week and it was so out of the ordinary for her and I just sat there doing my work, ignoring her. And forgetting her birthday…” he trails off. Everyone in the truck feels shame. “I’ve noticed it too. The shaky hands and late nights. I just thought maybe the work was getting to her.” Ghost mumbles.

Captain Price is nearly there, speeding to get to you.

You had tiny rocks, from when you’d slipped down the bank. Dropping one of them every so often and counting how long it takes before it hits the water. It was getting rather hard to see with the darkness surrounding you. Besides, you were heavier than a little rock, surely you’d hit the water faster than that.

Headlights lit up your back this time, only now, you heard the tires on the wet pavement coming to a stop behind you. Some bystander coming to play hero most likely. Maybe you’d entertain it so they’d leave you alone. “Thank you sir or ma’am. I don’t want to kill myself anymore!” You smile at the joke.

“Y/N?” You hear his deep voice call from behind you, your stomach falls. You didn’t want anyone to see you like this. You stay quiet, hoping they’d think it was someone else. You hear his footsteps getting louder as they approach. Course it’d be your Captain no less.

“Trying to kill yourself? We can’t have that. You’re discharged!”

You smile to yourself again. Head spinning. “Y/N. Darling?” His steps have slowed and you turn to look at him. “You don’t have to be all gentle, sir. I’m not going to jump if you get too close.” You give him a lazy smile and that’s when he knows it’s bad. Really fucking bad.

“You’re supposed to be in the infirmary. Healing.” He mumbles. “I did go. That was hours and hours ago, sir.” You mumble. “Bandaged my arm.” You hold it up. The bandage was completely ruined with water. “I stuck my hand in the river, wasn’t thinking and got it all wet.” Your voice is slurred. “You.. you were down there?” He asks. “Mhm. I go down there all the time. Good fishing in the summertime I hear, sometimes I see the fishermen. I’ve talked to a few of em.” You move to tilt the bottle back for another swig but he grasps it, pulling it away. “Think that’s enough. It’s time to go.” He mumbles. “Don’t think so, Cap.” You mumble. Sniffling. He watches you drop another pebble between your feet, whistling as it descends to the water. He can clearly see what you’re doing. “Y/N…” he mumbles. “We.. we forgot your birthday.” He mumbles. You laugh. “That’s okay, I hoped everyone would. I mean I’m at the age they don’t really matter anymore, anyways.” It stings.

“That’s not true Y/N. You’re young. Too young for this. Please get down.” He breathes. He’s got a tight hold on your shirt that you didn’t realize he’d had at first. You spin around, rolling over the railing and facing him. You smile. He can tell you’re about to say some fucked up stuff just from looking at you. “You know.. I had this.. whole thing. Every-“ you hiccup. “Everything I’d say. If I ever found myself like this. I told myself I’d go to you and I’d say “Captain Price. I’m really struggling and I need help. And you know what I got?” You smile.

“You wouldn’t want to be like your dad, would you Y/N?”

Captain Price forgot that he’d said it. He knew about your past with your dad and everything you’d gone through as a kid and why you were so tough on the outside. He doesn’t know why he said it. Your presence was bothering him that day because he was just trying to get his work done.

“Oh he’d be proud wouldn’t he.” Your lip quivers and your smile falters. “I am young. Too old to live, too young to die.” You mumble. “If it’s okay, I’d like to walk back to base. Don’t think you want to leave your truck there.” You look at it. Spotting a pale white skeleton mask through the slightly tinted window. “Ah shit.. you brought everyone. That’s great.” You mumble. “I’ll start back.” You push past him, staggering down the sidewalk.

He rushes across the street, pulling the back door open. “There’s a coat back there, hand it to me.”

“Is she okay?”

“No. Far from it.”

Ghost hands him the jacket. “I’m going to walk with her, drive my truck back to base please.” He mumbles. You hear his quick footsteps behind you. Sighing. “Here.” He passes you the coat and you take it with hesitation. “I’m already soaked sir.” You mumble. “I don’t care.” He says. “How much longer do I have?” You ask. He looks confused. “What are you talking about?” He asks. “Surely I’m off your task force for this. How long?”

His heart shatters to pieces. How little do you think he cares about you?

He pushes you back into an alleyway, off of the main road and underneath the edge of the roof to keep you out of the rain. “Swap your jacket, go on.” He mumbles. Holding his hand out. You sigh, shedding the soaked jacket. “I’m not going to remove you from my task force for something we all go through Y/N. It’s a bad day, not a bad life.” He mumbles. “It’s been a bad few months, Captain.” You mumble. He sighs. “I know Y/N… I know.” He mumbles. “It’s going to be okay. Come on.” He mumbles. The walk back to base is slow you seem to be dreading the return. Captain price has never felt so poorly before. He had missed so much, look at you.

When you finally make it back, the concrete entrance coming into view, he stops you. “Listen. We’ve got a lot to work on okay? And you’re far from sober now. So I’ll come find you tomorrow. Go in and go to bed okay?” You nod your head. He makes sure you’re in your room. It doesn’t take you long to pass out but John waits outside your room to make sure you actually stay inside.

The next morning, you wake up. And something is off.

You wake up completely sober with a massive headache, which can only mean one thing. You’d overslept.

You dart out of bed, snagging your phone and seeing the clock read 11:00. You were usually up at 5:00 every morning. You scrambled to get dressed, struggling your hardest since this is the most sober you’ve been in weeks. You reach for the door handle, and that’s when you freeze. The events from the previous night come flooding back to you. Not only were you most likely already on thin ice with your Captain, but now you’d slept in late. You were furious with yourself. You rip the door open and head straight for his office. You open the door, not bothering to knock and walk straight in. You see her sitting in front of desk and want to scream, you probably look like hell. “Ah. Y/N.” He smiles. “Was just getting ready to come find you.” He goes to stand. “Uh.. yeah. Sorry sir, my alarm didn’t wake me up like usual, I’m not sure what happened.” Your hands shake, you look pale. He worries the moment he’s got eyes on you.

“It’s okay. I went in and turned it off, I figured you’d need the sleep. We were just finishing up, take a seat.”

“I can come back another time-“

“No, we were just going over her discharge.”

You look concerned. “Excuse me- discharge?”

“Yeah.. it’s not going to work out with her here.”

“Well obviously there’s not enough work to go around but she shouldn’t be discharged, brought to another base maybe but she’s rather good-“

“Y/N.” She laughs, getting your attention.

“I’m pregnant.” She laughs. Your eyes widen. “Shit.” You sigh. “I mean shit- that’s exciting. That sounded horrible. I’m sorry.” You mumble. Sitting down.

“Thanks, I know what you meant. We decided it be best before I get in too deep here you know?” She smiles sadly. “Yeah.. yeah I guess so. Your kid deserves a mom and that’s not guaranteed in this line of work. You’re making a good choice.” You mumble. She smiles. “Thank you Y/N.”

Captain Price smiles. Despite how fucking bad you were struggling you still cared so much for those around you. But he’s saddened by the fact that on two ends of the spectrums, your lives had severely changed. You were an alcoholic bordering rehab and she was pregnant, giving up her career. It was fucked up.

“Oh. And I got you this, I totally had your birthday mixed up with someone else’s- I’m really sorry.” She passes you a box. “I’ll be going now though, planes leaving here in about thirty. Thanks for having me.” She says her goodbyes and exits through the door. You look sadly down at the box she’d given you.

“Why’d you let me sleep in?” You ask. “Because I’m willing to bet good money that’s the most sleep you’ve had in weeks, no?” He smiles.

You nod. “But uh.. you’re not gonna like what I have to say.” He sighs, sitting down in the chair that she had just left, right next to you rather than across his desk from you. You swallow hard, nodding your head. “I want you sober in no less than a week. If you can’t do that, I’m shipping you off my base and to a rehabilitation facility. Am I clear?” You nod your head. “Yes sir.”

“Good. Now that that’s squared. We need to talk.”

You sigh. “Can we just skip this part and go to me being sober?” You look sadly. He laughs. “No. You scared the shit out of the entire task force last night. What’s been going on?” He asks. You sigh.

“To be honest? I don’t know.” You mumble. “The biggest thing is like.. I guess I thought I’d just have done more by this age. You know? A family? Kids? A sugar daddy at least?” It takes him off guard and he laughs a bit. “Christ, you haven’t changed a bit.” He rolls his eyes. You smile. “I just feel disappointed in myself, and seeing her really made me realize what a failure I’ve been. I’ve done all of this work and have nothing to show for it. I thought I’d made a bigger impact on everyone yknow? And then everyone forgets my birthday and it’s just like.. it was just a punch in the gut.” You sigh.

He sighs. “Us forgetting your birthday is no excuse. Time slipped our minds and then the mission. I made a huge distraction for everyone, if you’re gonna blame anyone, blame me. I didn’t even realize what day it was until last night when I sat down for just a second and saw the date.” He mumbles. “I don’t blame anyone sir. It’s not that big of a deal of course, I guess I just thought I was more important than I am.”

It stings.

“Y/N.. that’s not true okay? You are important to us. Yesterday on the mission and last night, you gave all of us a really good scare. Which reminds me, we need to be on our way to the infirmary to get you looked at.” He mumbles. He rests his hand on your thigh. “It was shitty of us to forget. We will make up for it, I promise. But for now? We’ve got to get you back on track.” He runs his hand back and forth. “You shouldn’t be disappointed in yourself either. It’s not too late to start a family, and now you’ve got a solid career for yourself. You could easily slip back into a desk job and never see the field again if you decided to have a family.”

“Though I will be really sad because you are one of the most skilled soldiers I’ve ever seen, that’s why you’re on this task force.” He laughs. You smile.

He stands up and helps you up. The both of you making your way to the infirmary where you get checked out and re-bandaged. The next week you’re on the road to being sober again.

The guys don’t say too much to you, which hurts you beyond repair. It makes you wonder if staying on this base is worth it. You seemed so close to them for so long and now?

It’s how it seemed anyways, until day 7.

You were on day 3 with absolutely no alcohol and it was getting easier. The first couple days were hell, but now it felt just like you were back into your same old routine. It was Sunday and you slept in longer than intended but eventually crept out of your room into the mess hall. You gathered your breakfast and sat down at a table and began eating by yourself.

You were fine until the four of them appeared. But they weren’t getting breakfast which was unusual. They approach your table, each of them carrying grocery bags. You looked up from your toast, confused. “Uh.. something wrong?”

“No, actually. We’re happy to see you eating real breakfast rather than pounding coffee with shaky hands.” Ghost chuckles, seeing you smile. “Yeah, well. I keep everyone on their toes it’s what I do. What’s with the grocery bags?” You bite into your toast, looking at them. “Ready?” Johnny looks at Ghost than back to Gaz. “Ready.” The four lift their bags and dump them onto the table. You watch candy and all sorts of stuff fall from the bags onto the table. Captain Price sets a six pack of non-alcoholic beer on the table. You laugh. “That’s funny Captain, really. Might just be my 13th reason but a good one.”

He rolls his eyes. “What is all of this?”

“All our favorite candy cause we’re gonna sit here today and we’re gonna catch up, cause we’ve clearly missed so much.”

“Ah- yes. My birthday included.” You take another bite of your toast, seeing them all flinch. “Yeah- well. We’re idiots what do you expect. Besides, we had this big huge plan made up this year and lost track of time so you’ll have to wait until next year. But anyways, here’s your stuff. Stop talking back.” Johnny shoves the pile of your favorite candy toward you. “Awe! You got me gummy life savers I haven’t had those since I was a kid!” You pick them up, looking at them. He rolls his eyes. “I know, you told me about it on our mission to Iran. Same with The… pixie sticks? Gummy sharks? And uhhh.. gaz said something about gummy frogs.” He pushes them all toward you.

You felt like crying.

Even though these assholes forgot your birthday. They remembered the little things.

You swallow hard. “That’s uh.. that’s really sweet.” You set your toast down. Your eyes zero in on the candy, and you feel the biggest breakdown of your life coming on. You feel so guilty. “Y/N?” Captain Price rests his hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, are you alright? Can you hear me?” You look up at him, standing up. But he wasn’t going to let you go this time.

“Hey- it’s okay. We know how you feel and there’s nothing wrong with it okay? Just try to relax.” You nod your head, tears stream down your cheeks and you look away from them. You don’t want them to see you like this. “Sorry- it’s been a rough few months.” You clear your throat, wiping your eyes furiously with the sleeve of your shirt. “It’s alright. We’re all here for you Y/N. You scared us.” Gaz mumbles. You nod your head. Your nose goes red, as it always did when you got upset. And you sat silent for a while with tears spilling over your eyes as the five shared a normal conversation, waiting for you to calm down. There was a long road of healing needed to be done for you, but you’d be alright.

And you’d have your brothers along for the bumpy ride.

———

The sound of your door knob jiggling makes you scramble to hide what you’re holding. Shoving it under a blanket and sitting on top to secure it.

Captain Price gives you a look, letting you know that he’s just seen it and crosses his arms after shutting the door behind you. “What is it?” He asks. “It’s- it’s nothing sir.” You feel your face going hot but he doesn’t see it. “Y/N. Tell me what it is. Is it alcohol?” He asks. “What? No. I told you- I’m sober.” You swallow hard. He narrows his eyes. “Well. I told you. I’m checking your room weekly and that’s why I’m here. So give it up.” He crosses his arms, moving in closer. “Sir-“ he sighs, moving toward you and pushing you away. “Please Captain- you have to believe me. It’s not alcohol I’m telling yo-“ he draws your blanket back and when he sees it, he can’t help the crimson running up his cheeks and his earlobes.

A little pink bullet vibrator. “Hm.. okay.” He laughs to himself, covering it back up with your blanket. “Before I search the rest of your room- is there anything else like that I might find?” He turns to look at you, seeing the look of pure embarrassment on your face. “N-no sir.” You swallow hard. “I’m usually on top of hiding it but I forgot you were checking tonight and I was us-“ your eyes widen in horror. “I lost track of time.” You swallow. He turns away from you to smirk, not wanting to embarrass you further. “I believe you. Step out for a moment?” He laughs. “Yes sir.” You rush out the door. You could crawl into a hole and die.

He usually sent you out when he searched, but you’d been good. No alcohol at all, you’d been sober and on the road to healing. With a little help from your pink friend when things got extra tough.

You’re sitting outside your door reading a magazine when he reappears, opening the door and leaning on the frame. “I’m impressed. Not even a drop.” He laughs. “Told you sir, I’m sober.”

“I know, I can tell. But we’re going to keep doing this. Least for a while.” He laughs. “I understand sir.” You blush, looking down. “Y/N- I gotta ask.” He mumbles. You turn and look up at him as he leans against the door frame. Hovering over you slightly since you’d sat just outside the door. “Hm?”

“What’s the reason behind you not being married with kids already?” He asks. You chew at your lip. Thinking over an answer. “To be honest? I don’t know. I’ve never clicked with anyone, let alone gotten far enough into a relationship to even discuss the topic of kids.” You mumble. He nods his head. “You have to cut men some slack, who are we to compete with this?”

You shoot out of your seat, eyes wide as he holds up your vibrator. “Captain!”

“Y/N.” He says your name steadily with a smile.

“I’m wondering if it’s the booze I should worry about, or this?” He smirks. Seeing you narrow your eyes. “Yeah well. If you confiscate that one, can you at least return it with new batteries? Those ones are going dead.” You smirk. He raises his eyebrows. “If I’m not mistaken, I think you’re trying to flirt with me.” He moves from the door, stepping in front of you. He crosses his arms. You lower your voice, taken aback by what he’s saying. “And I think you’re the one holding my vibrator.”

He smirks. He’s moved closer, his face merely inches from yours. “Never cared enough to ask about a boyfriend or kids before Captain, what are you getting at exactly hm?” Your eyes are dark, voice is low and sultry. Never in a million years did you think this would be happening.

Captain Price? And you? Come on.

He bites at his lip. “Go into your room Sergeant.”

“Yes sir.” You step to the side, walking into your room and spinning around as he follows you. He closes the door behind himself.

When it’s locked, he’s stepping toward you quickly, backing you up a few steps as he moves closer. “I’m not reading this wrong, am I?” He asks. He’s got a beanie on. Jeans and a black jacket. You look up through your eyelashes at him, eyes snapping to his and locking eye contact with him. A look in your eyes he’s definitely never seen before. “No.”

“Good.”

He smashes his lips to yours, kissing you deep and passionate. It’s sloppy, teeth knocking into each other. It’s something the both of you have needed for far too long now. Someone to just get lost in.

He cups your jaw, fingers locking at the nape of your neck and he pulls you closer, kissing deep and hard.

When he draws away, you’re in a daze. You’ve never been kissed like that before. Your fingertips feel numb.

Numbness starts at your fingers and moves up your arms, down into your toes. You’re frozen in the spot until he’s pushing you back into your bed. He parts your legs, pushing himself up against you and rocking his hips into yours. He kisses you again and you moan into his mouth as he grinds up against you. His cock is hard and you can feel it through your soft sweatpants. Ironically, a pair he’d bought you a few weeks before when you were having a particularly rough night.

He’d spent countless nights holding your hair back for you as you threw up from the withdrawals. Shaky and sweaty, sobbing your heart out. You thought you couldn’t look worse to him.

Now here he is, about to fuck you raw on a metal cot in your room.

He nudges the striped sweatpants down your legs, feeling how soft they are on his skin. He gets his jacket and shirt off, not even bothering with his jeans. Once the both of you are unclothed just enough to get his cock inside you, he’s notching his tip at your entrance and sinking into you. You gasp and he cuts it off with a kiss. Drawing back and thrusting fast back inside. You’re wet and he slides easy, feeling how warm and soft you feel around him. “Fuck you’re tight-“ he hisses.

Words you NEVER expected to hear out of your Captains mouth.

Who would have thought you’d love them so much, anyways?

Your legs shiver from his rough pace. He’s relentless with his thrusts. Holding your thighs up and thrusting deeper. Keeping your eyes locked to his when he’s not kissing you. He forces you to focus on him as he fucks you deep.

“I think I get it now.” He draws back, raising himself up onto his knees, still thrusting but not as hard. “W-what?”

You tilt your head back and close your eyes. Waiting for an answer. You gasp when he presses the vibrator against your clit. Slowing his thrusts and fucking you deep as he holds it there. You look down for a second, seeing his hands on you. It hits you like a freight train what’s happening. Your eyes snap straight to his in a heated stare and chills run down his spine. The way you look at him always has him on edge. You had a harsh look about you sometimes.

“S’not supposed to be competition.” He smirks. You can’t help but laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

He chuckles. He lays over you once more to kiss you. Pushing your legs up further into you and sliding deeper. He keeps the vibrator pressed into you. “Can you stay quiet?” He asks. “Yes sir-“ you shiver slightly at his tone of voice.

“Good. Deep breath now, you’re going to need it.”

He clamps his hand around your throat, taking your oxygen away as he hammers his hips into yours. You clutch your eyes shut, trying to swallow but you can’t. You feel the pins and needles in your face from your lack of oxygen but the intensity from the pleasure you feel takes over. You can barely hear him.

“Cum for me. Go on sweetheart.”

You grit your teeth. Your whole body feels numb except for that one spot.

You try to cry out but can’t, reaching your peak in silence as black pin pricks fill your vision. You shake and twitch, walls throbbing hard around him. You try to draw away from the vibrator but he draws it back. He finally lets go of your throat and you gasp in air just as he finishes with a groan. Clenching his eyes shut. You take a few seconds to breath, brain no longer foggy as you look at him.

It’s the best sex you’ve ever had by far.

Your chest moves up and down as you breathe hard. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth.

He draws back, standing up. The reality of what he’s just done hits him hard. The two of you had just had sex. On base. And he’s your captain and you’re a sergeant on his task force.

He can’t help but smile.

“You alright?” He asks. “Y-yeah. Mhm.” You look up at him, cheeks on fire. “Not how I saw my night going at all but I’m fine.” You laugh softly. “Yeah.. me neither. It’s your fault really, you’re a temptress.” He barely finishes his sentence before you’re slapping his shoulder. He can’t help but laugh. “Hey- I got you something, actually.” He mumbles. “What?”

“I’ll be right back.” He stands up, getting redressed quickly and exiting through your door. You take the time to get redressed and cleaned up. Fixing your messed up hair and sitting down. You pick the magazine up once more, reading through it. He’s gone for a few minutes before reappearing. He sits on your bed in front of you, holding out a little black box. “What’s this for?”

“I saw something like it and thought of you.”

You look confused as you open it, drawing out the little gold necklace. It’s an old dried clover pressed between two tiny thin pieces of glass, turned into a keychain. A keepsake pendant.

“But I don’t think I understand.” You look confused. He smiles. He looks at his watch, reading that it’s past midnight. “Well, I meant to give it to you tomorrow but since it’s midnight.” He laughs. “Today technically marks three years since I recruited you for my task force. The day we officially met each other and you joined the base. You beat me to the base and didn’t have much to do that day so you spent it outside. We were on our way back from a mission. You found a four leaf clover in the grass and when I arrived I saw you waiting outside. I introduced myself and you said “hi, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” And passed me the clover and said “it’s a good luck charm. With me here, you’re gonna need it.” He smiles. You smile down at it. “You.. kept it?”

“Of course I kept it.” He laughs. “I figured you’d have just thrown it away. That’s.. that’s really sweet John.”

The use of his first name takes him off guard.

“Yeah well. You’re a really sweet girl who deserves better than this but I’m not too thoughtful.”

“That’s such a lie. This is the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten.” You look up at him. He laughs.

“I uh.. hope this won’t be the last encounter like this with you.”

“Hm?”

“I’d like to take you out on a date. A real date. If you’re okay with it. I know I’m a lot older than you.”

“I would love that, Captain.” You smile. “Thanks for being here for me these last few weeks.”

“I would never leave you hanging. I hope you know that.” He grasps your hand, taking it into his. “You’re doing really good and I’m proud of you. And I’m sorry for what I’ve said to you.”

“Thank you.”

“What are you going to put it on?” He asks. You think for a second.

“I’m thinking my vest.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part15

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: Arguing. (tell me if I should add more I’m really bad at this.)

Selly's note: I'm sorry. Pls don't hate me💗

previous - next

Waiting was hard. Especially when someone told you they’d come. Every knock on the door had you looking up. Every single one, you thought it was them. 

After all, a promise had been made—to be there. 

But when they didn’t show, the disappointment stung. If you weren’t going to come, why say you would? Why give hope? 

If they’d said they were leaving, fine. It would hurt, but at least you’d know. But when someone says they’ll come, you wait. Even if they don’t say when, you wait. 

And then they don’t show. 

Their messed-up life, their thoughts, their world—so damn important that they can’t even pick up the phone to say, “I’m okay.” They just leave. Just like that. Like you meant nothing. Like you were a stranger. 

Should you be worried or just pissed? You weren’t even sure. Your mind kept running through scenarios, wondering if something happened. Maybe that’s why you didn’t call. But deep down, you knew that wasn’t it. 

They just didn’t. 

If they wanted to, they would have. 

And knowing that hurt the most. 

Lily and JJ. That was everything. Your world revolved around them. You spent every day together. And now, he was just… gone. Like he hadn’t been by your side for years. Like you had never been in his life. 

There was so much anger bubbling inside you that even stepping outside for air didn’t help. Even when Liliana came to talk about JJ, you struggled to keep your answers short. Every time she asked where he was, you had to bite your tongue to keep from saying, “rotting in hell.” 

Especially—especially when he left you alone at a time when maybe, just maybe, you were starting to feel something for him. Was no man reliable? The first chance he got, at the first sign of trouble, he ran. If you couldn’t even trust JJ, then who the hell was left? 

Screw love. He was your best friend. 

And sometimes—friendships mattered more than feelings. You would’ve pushed everything else aside just to keep him in your life. 

If you couldn’t trust him, then who else was left? 

You had called Rafe a coward before, but wasn’t this the same damn thing? 

The first chance he got, JJ was gone. No one knew where he was. Three days. And nothing. You didn’t even know if he was coming back. 

At night, after Liliana fell asleep, you’d lie awake. You’d cry, or you’d just stare at the ceiling, torn between waiting up for JJ and giving up on him entirely. 

But you waited. Like an idiot, you sat in the living room, waiting for him to walk through the door. How much lower could you sink? Sitting there, waiting for a guy who promised to come and never did. A guy who swore he’d always keep you safe but ran at the first real fight. 

And god, the worst part was, you had feelings for him. 

Your best friend. 

You pulled a pillow into your lap, hugging it close as your eyes stayed fixed on the TV screen. You weren’t even processing anything. Your mind was a mess. 

As if all this wasn’t enough, Rafe was still waiting for your answer. As if you had one. 

It wasn’t easy. This wasn’t something you could figure out in just a couple of days. You had five years of raising Liliana without him. And before that, you had years of being with him. How were you supposed to weigh nearly seven years of your life in just three days? 

But still, you had to decide before leaving for Asheville. 

You squeezed your eyes shut. Everything was too much. You hated how everything was piling up at once. Without thinking, you grabbed your phone. Even though you were pissed at JJ, making a decision about Liliana on your own felt wrong. 

Your fingers found Rafe’s number instead. You hesitated for a second, taking a deep breath. Then, before you could overthink it, you hit call. 

You should’ve just stayed in Asheville. 

The phone barely rang before it was answered. Your brows shot up. You hadn’t expected him to pick up that fast. Taking another deep breath, you opened your mouth to speak, but Rafe beat you to it. His voice was slightly breathless. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi.” Your voice was flat, the exact opposite of his. You weren’t in the mood to sound happy, let alone pretend you were fine. You just wanted to get this over with, to cross one thing off your list of a million things weighing you down. 

“How are you?” Even though you were the one who called, Rafe took the lead in the conversation. And that felt… strange. He wasn’t the same guy he used to be—you could tell. But every time he spoke, you could still picture the version of him you once knew. 

Like he was someone else entirely. 

And you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not. 

You inhaled deeply, trying to find your voice. When you finally spoke, you hoped it sounded somewhat normal. “I’m fine.” 

If you had been face-to-face, even a stranger would’ve known that was a lie. When silence settled between the two of you. You hated phone calls. Especially when you didn’t know how to start them. 

Realizing you hadn’t even asked how he was, you spoke first. “You?” 

“I’m… good, I guess. What are you doing?” Rafe’s voice was quieter now. He wasn’t as excited as when he first picked up—he sounded calmer. His breathing had slowed. Maybe he’d picked up on the exhaustion in your voice. You didn’t know. 

After all, Rafe wasn’t someone you knew anymore, and you couldn’t begin to guess what was going through his head. 

Your eyes wandered around the room. Liliana’s toys were scattered in a few places, but the house was mostly tidy. You sighed. “I’m at ho—” 

Rafe cut you off, quick and eager. “Is Liliana with you?” His previous excitement was back, and you could tell from his voice that he was smiling. 

You pulled your legs up onto the couch, shaking your head even though he couldn’t see you. “No… No—she’s asleep.” 

“Oh… Got it.” 

“Great.” You replied dryly. The conversation hit another dead end, and for a moment, you almost forgot why you had even called. The silence stretched between you two, tense and uncomfortable, but it didn’t last long before Rafe spoke again. 

“Do you remember Topper—Of course, you remember Topper. Shit… Well… He’s having a birthday party. June 29th, I think. If you wanted to come—” 

You didn’t need to hear the rest. You were only curious about how he’d finish the sentence. 

“No.” 

The two of you weren’t close. You and Topper, especially, were never close. Being there wouldn’t just be weird—it would be unbearable. Besides, you weren’t exactly in the mood for parties or loud places anymore. At least not right now. 

Rafe exhaled. “Okay.” There was no disappointment in his voice, just acceptance. And you were relieved. You weren’t friends. You weren’t going to pretend to be by showing up at some party. 

“And yes, I remember him. Four years isn’t that long to forget someone.” You ran a hand over your face. You knew he was just stretching the conversation, but you weren’t in the mood. 

“Yeah… it’s not.” Rafe went quiet. You had a feeling you knew what—or who—he was thinking about. So, you stayed quiet. 

You weren’t old friends reconnecting after years apart, and you never would be. That’s why you had no interest in casual conversations. You wanted this to be short and to the point, yet somehow, both of you kept dragging it out. 

“So… I don’t want to pressure you, but have you thought about what we talked about? Or was this just… kind of your way of questioning if I even deserve it?” 

At his words, you sat up straighter on the couch. Did he deserve it? You had no idea. You hoped he did—if there was any chance of him being in Liliana’s life. 

“That’s why I called you. I—I know I said I’d think about it, but Rafe—Jeez, I don’t trust you.” You didn’t really trust anyone these days, but Rafe was at the top of that list. He didn’t just hurt you. He shattered you. And now, years later, he wanted to come back, claiming regret? 

It was disgusting. 

“I get it.” His voice was thick, almost strained. Maybe the old you would’ve felt bad for him. But he wasn’t there when you needed him. 

“No matter how much I try to be objective, at the end of the day, the person I’m gambling on here is my daughter.” And when it came to protecting her, there wasn’t a line you wouldn’t cross. Even if it meant running to the ends of the earth. 

Rafe said nothing. 

“I don’t want to say no. I don’t want to take that right away from Liliana. But I’m not saying yes either. I just… I don’t know if it’s the right thing.” 

“I completely understand. I—I’ll wait as long as you need. Whenever you decide to let me see her—if you ever do—I just… I don’t want you to think I’m doing this to get close to you. Shit, I suck at these kinds of conversations. I screwed everything up. Not just us—my whole life. And I don’t want to keep living like that. If there’s even a small chance that I can be better, I want to take it.” 

You wanted to believe him. You really did. But it was hard. Especially because you knew him—who he used to be. 

It felt like the hardest decision you’d ever have to make. Because this wasn’t about you. It was about Liliana. The moment you introduced them, it would be over. She’d know her father was back. She’d want to see him. 

The words left your mouth before you could stop them. “I’ll think about it.” 

You weren’t ready to give him a straight answer. Maybe you never would be. But you would think about it. 

“And I’m grateful for that.” The second those words left his lips, it felt like a punch to your stomach. You leaned back into the couch, sinking into the cushions, taking a deep breath. 

You didn’t want words of affection from him. You didn’t want soft reassurances. 

He would be in Liliana’s life. Not yours. And he needed to understand that. If he already did, then he needed to remember it. 

“I have to go.” You didn’t want to say goodbye. You weren’t friends. You never would be. 

“Okay,” Rafe said. 

“Okay.” You echoed him. 

“Take care.” Those were his last words before you ended the call. 

You weren’t friends. 

You didn’t want his thoughts on your life. Not even one. 

This was only for Liliana. That was the only reason you spoke to Rafe. The only reason you called. 

“Are you done?” 

The sudden voice snapped you back to reality. Your eyes flew open, and your body reacted faster than your mind, making you jolt upright. One hand clutched your chest as you turned toward the doorway. 

JJ was standing there, his expression unreadable, a not-so-friendly smirk tugging at his lips. He dropped the grocery bag in his hand onto the floor, shaking his head.

Did he really have the nerve to stand there and smile at you like nothing happened? Had he lost his mind? 

"I asked you a question, you know? Are you guys done talking?" JJ tossed his keys onto the couch. There was almost a smirk on his lips, but it was clear it wasn’t out of happiness—just pure mockery. As if he had any right to ask you anything. 

You wanted to yell at him, but you held back, keeping your composure. You weren’t going to drag this out any longer. He was already dense enough at the moment; you didn’t need word games. "Yeah. We're done." 

JJ let out a dry chuckle, staying right where he was instead of stepping closer. "What’d you tell him—actually, wait. Never mind. Forget it. I— I just wanna drop this. Do whatever you want, just don’t tell me about it." 

Your eyes squeezed shut. One hand went to your forehead, the other lifted as if you were trying to stop yourself from doing something reckless. You had no idea what the hell had gotten into JJ lately, but you wanted to rip it out of him and shove it so far up his ass that he’d finally cut this crap. "Stop doing that." 

"I'm literally not doing anything," JJ said, laughing right after. But there wasn’t a single trace of amusement in his voice. 

"I'm done playing games." You forced yourself to stay calm. He was the one who walked out of this house and didn’t come back for three days. And now, the moment he steps back inside, he thinks he’s the one who gets to act like this? 

JJ started moving toward the couch, pulling off his jacket as he went. "Whatever you say." He tossed the jacket onto the couch and leaned back, making himself comfortable. You clenched your fists, trying to keep yourself together. 

Liliana was upstairs, and yelling was the last thing you needed to do. You were not about to fight with JJ in front of her. Ever. 

You took a deep breath, swallowing down everything bubbling up inside you. Just one more try. If you could just get through this one last time, you could leave it all behind. Of course, you had every right to call him out for disappearing for three days, to be pissed at him, but you wanted to fix things, not burn them down. "If you're willing to sit down and talk to me like a normal person, I want to have one last conversation with you. No yelling. No arguing." 

JJ stopped. When he turned around a few seconds later, the smug, cocky attitude was gone. His expression had completely changed, his face unreadable. "Why?" 

"What do you mean, why? Don’t play dumb, JJ. I’m standing right here, trying to be a rational adult and talk to you." It was exhausting. 

JJ took a step forward, his brows slowly pulling together. "Are you seriously gonna make me repeat myself? I told you to do whatever you want. You’re her parent—" 

That was it. You shot up from where you were sitting, cutting him off before he could even finish. "One more time—just one more time you say that, and I swear to God, I will punch you in the face." You tried to keep your voice steady, but you already knew you’d failed. Your tone had gone sharp, louder than you intended. 

Not that JJ cared if you raised your voice. It wasn’t about him. It was about Liliana. You didn’t want her to hear this. 

"What do you want me to say?" JJ shrugged as he walked toward the couch, his tone infuriatingly indifferent. "I said it’s your decision, I’ll respect it. You get what you want." 

He was never going to understand. He only heard what he wanted to hear—he wasn’t even listening to what you were saying. "I don’t want to ‘get what I want.’ I want us to sit down and figure this out together." 

JJ rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck. You felt your patience snap. If this were Liliana, everything would already be resolved by now. But JJ? He was worse than her. More stubborn. More childish. "Jesus. I’m telling you, this decision is yours. I won’t interfere. What do you want, another fight like last night?" 

You couldn’t take it anymore. "Who even are you?" 

You watched as confusion flashed across his face. JJ took a step back. "What?" 

You didn’t stop. "Who the hell are you?" 

JJ’s eyes narrowed. Clearly, he had no idea what you were getting at. "What the hell are you talking about?" 

"Tell me what role you see yourself in Liliana’s life." 

JJ swallowed. His mouth opened, then closed, and his hand went to his hair like he was trying to figure out what to say. "I— isn’t it obvious?" 

You shook your head, fast. You didn’t want to be angry anymore. "No. Clearly, it’s not. We’re not on the same page. Tell me how you see it, and I swear to you, I’ll act accordingly. The way I see your role in her life and the way you see it yourself—they’re not the same." 

Whatever answer he gave, you would accept it. If he saw himself as an uncle, then fine, you’d treat him like one. If he saw himself as nothing more than a stranger, so be it. A brother? A parent? Whatever it was, you just needed to know. 

"I—" JJ started. 

"You what?" 

JJ spread his arms, looking at you like this whole thing was ridiculous. "This is bullshit." 

"You can’t even say it— You know what, JJ? Maybe, for the first time in five years, you actually disappointed me. And I really wish I didn’t have to feel that." 

It was never going to be simple, was it? He just had to fight back, had to shut you out instead of just facing it. You raised Liliana together. And yet— 

You didn’t even want to think about it. You tried to shove down the overwhelming urge to just walk away from all of this. JJ was the one person in your life you trusted the most. For the past few years, he had been. And you couldn’t wrap your head around how it was all unraveling in just a few days. 

If someone had told you weeks ago that you’d be standing here, questioning everything, you wouldn’t have believed them. You would’ve laughed and said, "JJ would never do that." 

But here he was. Doing it. Every word, every move—breaking your heart, little by little. He wasn’t JJ anymore. Not the JJ you knew. He was turning into someone careless. Someone indifferent. 

"Feeling’s mutual," JJ’s voice came sharp, dripping with sarcasm. You took a deep breath. You weren’t going to cry. Not in front of him. 

It hurt like hell. Not being able to be vulnerable, even with the person you trusted the most. Not even feeling safe enough to cry in front of him. 

Your eyebrows lifted, a bitter laugh threatening to spill. "That so?" 

"Yeah." JJ didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second. There wasn’t an ounce of doubt in his voice. He knew exactly what he was saying.

The words slipped from your lips before you even had time to think. You didn’t mean to say them out loud. But deep down, you knew they were true. 

"Maybe we're starting to hurt each other." 

And maybe you were. 

You couldn’t help but look at yourself, at the way you felt tangled up in emotions that never seemed to settle. It wasn’t just about what you felt for him—it was also about the way he made you feel. 

JJ’s lips twitched slightly before a dry, humorless laugh escaped him. 

"Maybe." 

You wanted to hate him. You wanted to so badly—except, no, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t hate. It was disappointment, frustration, an ache that sat too heavy in your chest. 

"It’s been three days," you said, hating the way your voice wavered. You hated how weak you sounded, how obvious the tremble was. 

And this time, you didn’t give him the chance to speak first. Maybe he wouldn’t understand, but for once, you wanted to open yourself up. You wanted to believe that if you said the right words, if you explained it in the right way, something—anything—might change. But you also knew, with a sinking certainty, that it wouldn’t. 

Because JJ was too damn stubborn. Too damn stupid. And you already knew exactly how this would go. 

You looked at him, searching for some kind of reaction, some acknowledgment that he was hearing you, that he was here with you. But he just stood there, staring at the ground. Silent. Avoiding your eyes. 

"You said you’d come," you finally said, voice quieter now, like maybe if you didn’t say it too loud, it wouldn’t hurt as much. "And I—" You swallowed, forcing yourself to look anywhere but at him. "I waited for you all night. Almost all night. I waited for that door to open, but you never showed up." 

You could still see it—the way you sat there, staring at the door, holding onto the stupid hope that any second now, he’d walk in. That things would be okay. That maybe, just maybe, this time would be different. 

JJ still didn’t lift his head when he spoke. His voice was so flat, so emotionless, that it almost felt like a slap in the face. 

"I'm here now." 

Your head snapped up, eyes narrowing as you stared at him. Was he serious? Was he actually standing here, looking you in the eye, and acting like that made up for anything? 

"You’ve got to be kidding me," you muttered, more to yourself than to him. You searched his face for any sign of regret, any hint of an apology, but he wouldn’t even look at you. 

You couldn’t believe this was the same person you had known for years, the person you had spent so much time with. He looked like a stranger. 

"Fuck you," you said, voice sharp and bitter as you turned on your heel. 

You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t stand here and look at him, not when he was acting like this. Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest it felt like it was trying to break free. It physically hurt. 

You stormed toward the stairs, desperate to put distance between the two of you, but his voice stopped you in your tracks. 

"You don’t remember anything, do you?" 

There was something different in his tone now. It wasn’t flat, wasn’t distant. It was shaking. It was the first real emotion he had shown since he walked through that damn door. 

You turned back, brows furrowing. He was still standing there, shoulders slumped, eyes glassy. He dragged a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. 

"What?" you asked, confused. 

JJ didn’t look up. His hand pressed against his chest as if that alone could steady him. 

For a split second, you thought he was in pain. But then the memory of the past three days came rushing back, and all you could feel was frustration. Because if he was hurting, if something had happened, he sure as hell wasn’t letting you in on it. 

"I cared about you," he said, voice cracking slightly, as if the words themselves were painful to say. He wasn’t even talking to you at this point. It felt like he was talking to himself, as if he was saying it out loud for the first time. 

Something about it made your stomach twist. 

You hesitated, then slowly started walking back down the stairs. You didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way his voice sounded. Maybe it was the way he wouldn’t even look at you. Maybe it was the fact that despite everything, despite knowing better, you still wanted to understand him. 

"JJ," you said cautiously, searching his face. "What are you talking about? What don’t I remember?" 

You hated how lost you sounded. 

JJ finally stopped pacing. His body was tense, like he was holding something back, like if he said it too fast or too loud, the words might actually destroy him. 

"You really don’t remember," he said, mostly to himself. Then he let out a shaky breath. "For three fucking days, all I did was think about the last five years of my life. About you. About Liliana. About us." 

His voice broke slightly on the last word. 

"About the life we had together," he finished quietly. "And it fucking destroyed me." 

You felt like you had been punched in the stomach. 

JJ finally lifted his head. His eyes were red, and for the first time, you couldn’t tell if he was just exhausted or if he was actually about to break right in front of you. 

Where the hell had he been for the last three days? What had happened to him? 

You had spent so much time being angry, being hurt, that it hadn’t even occurred to you to wonder what he had been doing. Where he had been sleeping. If he had been eating. 

And the worst part? The first thing he did when he walked through that door wasn’t explain. It wasn’t apologize. It wasn’t reassure you that he was okay. 

No. 

He came in, looked you in the eye, and started a fight. Because that was what JJ did. That was all he knew how to do. 

You swallowed hard, watching him carefully. His lips parted like he wanted to say something else, but he hesitated. He looked wrecked. His body, his face, everything about him screamed exhaustion. 

He needed sleep. Maybe food. Maybe something stronger than that. 

But despite everything, despite how much he had pissed you off, how much he had hurt you, you still— God, you still cared. And you hated it. 

He wasn’t the same. He wasn’t the JJ you knew just days ago. He was looking at you like you were a stranger, like the past didn’t exist. But even after all that, even after everything he had done, if he asked for your help, you knew you would give it. 

Because you were an idiot. 

And because if there was even a small chance he would go back to the person you knew—the person you trusted—you would do whatever it took to bring him back. 

But you already knew how this would end. JJ had disappeared for three days after your first real fight. 

What the hell would he do the next time? 

When your eyes finally met his again, he swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his jaw clenched. He took a step toward you, but there was still so much space between you. 

"I need you to tell me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you remember, or are you just pretending?" 

There was almost a glimmer of hope in his eyes—you could see it. But you struggled to understand what he was talking about. He kept asking you about something you didn’t even know. No clues, no hints, just vague words. 

How could he expect you to remember something you didn’t even know existed? 

“How the hell am I supposed to remember something you never told me?! What am I supposed to remember?” 

You stepped down a few more stairs, closing the distance between you. Your stomach was tight, knotted with frustration. You were impatient, and it showed. You were sick of JJ’s cryptic bullshit.

Clear and direct. That’s all you needed. 

"You don’t remember." 

JJ shook his head. The moment his eyes drifted away from you, something inside you snapped. Whether it was anger or sadness, you weren’t sure, but you had reached your limit. 

"JJ. I need you to be straight with me right now. What the hell are you talking about?" 

Your voice rose without meaning to, and you shut your eyes tight, pressing your lips together. For just a second—just one second—you had forgotten that Liliana was upstairs. 

You turned your head, glancing toward the staircase, checking if she had heard or if she was coming down. But then, you heard a chuckle. Your brows knitted together. You had hoped—really hoped—that it wasn’t what you thought. But of course, it was. 

You turned your head sharply, eyes locking onto JJ, and of course, he was the one laughing. 

Of course. 

You had no idea how much more frustrating this situation could get, but you were about to lose your mind. JJ clearly needed some sleep. Otherwise, you’d be the one knocking him out and forcing him to rest—with a punch. 

Taking a deep breath, you kept your gaze fixed on him. JJ was staring at the floor, muttering almost to himself, "I’m an idiot. The biggest one." 

The moment you saw him move toward the stairs, your heartbeat picked up. You hated the way your body reacted to him getting closer. Even after the argument. 

He couldn’t just walk past you like nothing had happened. You weren’t going to let that slide. Not a chance. 

As he moved to step around you, the clean scent of him hit your nose, making your whole body tense. So, he hadn’t been outside all night. He had stayed somewhere. He had fresh clothes on. That feeling deep in your stomach made you shut your eyes tight for a second. You didn’t know where he had been. You didn’t know whose place he had stayed at. And— 

Screw it. His life. 

You grabbed his arm, gripping it tightly, stopping him in his tracks. He didn’t resist, didn’t try to move past you. It was like he had already accepted whatever was coming. "Tell me what you mean." 

JJ didn’t look at you. His gaze stayed on the edge of the stairs. He took a slow, deep breath. "A promise. You made me a promise. That no matter what, we’d always be there for each other. That’s it." 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he tried to move again. You stepped back quickly, blocking his path. This time, you were directly in front of him, but his eyes still refused to meet yours. You placed your hand on his chest, stopping him. "No, that’s not it. You’re lying. I know you." 

"Let it go." 

JJ shifted to move past you again, but you stepped in front of him once more. His chest brushed against yours, and for a second, your breath caught. He was standing on the lower step, yet he still towered over you. 

He could push you aside so easily. You both knew it. But he didn’t. 

Then, he lifted his head. The moment his eyes locked onto yours, you nearly stumbled. You felt like you should step back. Like you had to. But you didn’t. Not an inch. 

"JJ—" 

Your words died in your throat when his cold fingers touched your cheek. Your voice vanished. Unlike before, this time, he was looking directly at you. And you were certain—he was reading your mind. 

"Let it go," he murmured. "Like you said, all we do is hurt each other now." 

Hearing those words from him wasn’t the same as when you had said them. You were angry. But he—he was calm. Like he actually meant it. 

The words hit you like a punch to the stomach. Before you could process it, the warmth between you vanished. Your hand, the one that had been resting against his chest, dropped to your side. 

JJ averted his gaze, stepping down one more stair. The distance between you suddenly felt like miles. Neither of you looked at each other. 

"I’m gonna check on Liliana. I promised her a beach day tomorrow." 

You let him walk past you.

As the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, a light breeze swept across the beach. The waves lapped gently against the shore, mingling with the cheerful shrieks of children playing in the sand. JJ dusted off his thin t-shirt as he stood up, rubbing his eyes with his fingers before calling out to the small figure in the distance. 

“Lily! Come on! It’s getting dark,” he shouted. 

Liliana ignored his voice for a moment, carefully placing the final touches on her sandcastle. Her tiny fingers delicately lined up seashells, completely focused on making her towers perfect. Her face held a sweet kind of determination. But JJ wasn’t in the mood to linger much longer. Something restless and heavy stirred inside him—an unease that had been lingering for days now. 

Ever since that fight with you. It had messed him up more than he wanted to admit—left him feeling like he just wanted to disappear. 

He didn’t realize how much he had hurt Liliana until he walked into her room that night. The way she ran up to him, eyes wide and desperate, shattered him. And it wasn’t just because of her. It was because of you, too. Because of the second fight. 

He never wanted to start a fight, but those stupid feelings—those goddamn feelings—had him all twisted up. 

And if there was one thing he couldn’t get out of his head, it was kissing you. 

And then you had to go and mention Rafe, like it was nothing. Like it didn’t matter. Like it hadn’t been less than 24 hours since— 

Without even realizing it, he had brought Liliana back to the same beach where he had run into you. Only, this time, it wasn’t quiet. It was summer now, and the place was packed. Back then, it had been fall. Every time he glanced to the right, he could hear your voices in his head, replaying that conversation over and over. Every time he looked at the water, all he could see was the way you had laughed, the way you had splashed him, the way you had made him feel—light. Maybe that’s when it started. Maybe that’s when he started falling for you. He wasn’t sure. 

There had been other women since then—if you could even call them that. A handful, maybe. Dates that led to kisses that led to nothing. Nothing like what he had felt when he kissed you. 

You were water, and he was a man dying of thirst in the desert. 

For five years, he had taken other girls out on dates when it should’ve been you. It should’ve been you. 

But of course, you were drunk. JJ was just letting his mind run wild. You hadn’t been with anyone for five years, and people had needs—just like everyone else. Maybe, in that moment, he was just the most convenient option. You didn’t even remember. JJ had figured that out real quick. If you had, you would’ve said something. You would’ve reacted. 

But you just looked at him with those empty eyes, and it made him feel like absolute shit. 

He regretted it. And yet, he was grateful for it. It had pulled something out of him, something raw and real—something that probably should’ve stayed buried. 

He regretted it. He shouldn’t have done it. But he still wanted you to remember. 

No matter what happened, those moments shouldn’t have been just his to carry alone. 

Starting a fight had never been his goal. Swear to God. He just… hadn’t known how else to react. The kiss. You not remembering. And then Rafe. Like a slap in the face. 

He hadn’t wanted to leave, either. At least, not deep down. But if he had stayed, things would’ve just gotten worse. More fights. 

Was he sorry? Yeah. But was he angrier at himself than anything else? Also yeah. 

He ran a hand down his face and straightened up. As he watched Liliana keep working on her sandcastle, ignoring him completely, he took a deep breath. It was getting late. The sooner they got home, the faster she’d be asleep. 

He had just stepped forward to get her when a familiar laugh made his stomach drop. 

“Oh my God, are my eyes deceiving me?” 

JJ tensed. He knew that voice. Turning his head slightly, he saw three figures walking along the beach. He recognized them instantly—Topper, Kelce, and… Rafe. 

A punch to the chest would’ve been kinder. His hands curled into fists before he could stop himself. He hadn’t expected to see him again anytime soon. 

Kelce, always the cocky asshole, tilted his head with a smirk. “Man, you still alive?” His grin stretched wide, all teeth and mischief. 

Topper rolled his eyes, but he was grinning too. “We seriously thought you were dead. Swear to God.” 

JJ took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. This was not the kind of run-in he was equipped to deal with right now. He glanced back quickly, checking on Liliana—still playing. Good. He let out a slow exhale. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Rafe muttered, turning to the others with an unimpressed look. His voice made JJ’s skin crawl. 

JJ’s gaze flicked over Rafe. He had changed over the years, but not enough. The same arrogant posture, the same cold stare. It took everything in him not to let the anger boiling inside spill over. It wasn’t just personal hate—he hated everything about Rafe. Every. Damn. Thing. 

Except for one. 

Liliana. 

“As you can see, I’m alive,” JJ said, his voice surprisingly steady. Even he wasn’t sure how he managed it. 

It wasn’t like he had any real grudge against Topper or Kelce. He just couldn’t stand them. But Rafe? 

He loathed his entire existence. 

Kelce raised an eyebrow, pointing his beer at JJ with an amused look. “Just outta curiosity—not that I actually give a shit—but where the hell have you been for the last four years? There was a time when people were saying your dad straight-up killed you.” 

JJ clenched his jaw but forced a smile. Funny. He never thought he’d be someone people speculated about. 

He had just left. 

For you. 

And he had thought about coming back. So many times. But then he saw Liliana. He saw you. And that made it impossible.

You could’ve handled everything on your own. He knew you would succeed no matter what. But you didn’t have to. You would’ve been fine alone—you would’ve found a way. JJ knew that. But forcing you to do it? That wasn’t really his style. He wasn’t the kind of guy who’d walk away when he could make things easier for you, when he could help. 

Right now, his emotions were all over the place. His heart and mind weren’t on the same page. Especially when his brain kept screaming that he was going to lose you and Liliana. He was trying to pull himself together, but the second he got close to you, every logical thought in his body bailed on him. 

“So, since I’m standing here, I guess you figured out I didn’t do it. I was busy.” JJ cut straight to the point. There wasn’t much to explain. Especially not to them. 

Topper let out a loud laugh, stumbling as he nudged Kelce with his elbow. “I’d bet money he was out being a gigolo. The ladies’ favorite, right?” 

JJ rolled his eyes, annoyed. Same old dumb jokes, same pointless jabs… It was like time hadn’t moved at all. Like Topper was still that same kid from five years ago. 

How was it possible that while everyone else grew, evolved, added something to themselves, this guy was still stuck in the same childish loop? Had he seriously never done a single thing to improve himself? 

“Can we cut the crap?” Rafe muttered, eyes on the waves. He took a step back and sipped his beer. 

JJ realized just hearing his voice irritated him, so he quickly ducked down and kept gathering his stuff. The sooner he got out of here, the better. Especially after listening to these three run their mouths. 

Kelce grinned and turned to Rafe. “Come on, man! You don’t miss the old days?” 

“No. When are we getting on the boat?” 

“You’re such a buzzkill,” Kelce grumbled, glancing around. They were still standing in the same damn spot, as if there was nowhere else to be. 

JJ sighed, shaking his head. He really couldn’t stand them. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could put up with it. Straightening up, he grabbed his bag. “Yeah, yeah. Seeing you guys was terrible. Have fun.” He moved faster now, desperate to leave. 

But then Topper tilted his head, smirking. “Not even gonna say ‘happy birthday,’ Jackson?” 

JJ’s fingers clenched around the strap of his bag. He inhaled sharply, then turned to glare at Topper. The old him would’ve fired back with some sarcastic remark. But not now. Now, he just wanted to be done with this. “Happy birthday, Topper.” 

Kelce’s grin widened as he stepped closer. “Be honest—you started escorting, didn’t you?” 

This time, JJ actually laughed. If he weren’t living with you and Liliana, maybe he would’ve. He could’ve made some serious cash. “As tempting as it is to be a millionaire with this face—no.” He picked up his pace, avoiding eye contact, pretending Rafe wasn’t even there. 

“Same old ego—” 

And then Liliana’s voice cut through the air. “Why didn’t you look at my tower?!” 

JJ’s head snapped up. Her voice hit him like a bolt of lightning, sending a jolt of panic straight through his chest. And then he saw it—Rafe standing right next to her. 

His blood ran cold. 

Rafe was focused on Liliana, standing just a little behind her, but watching her intently. They shouldn’t be that close. No. 

JJ moved instantly, stepping in front of Liliana like a human shield. He reached out and gently placed a hand on her hair, making sure Rafe couldn’t see her clearly. “I did look,” he said quickly, keeping his tone even, trying to act normal. His heart was hammering in his chest. He needed to leave. Now. 

But Rafe… Rafe was already staring at her. Of course, he’d seen you and Liliana before. And of course, he remembered her. 

Shit. 

Liliana turned toward her sandcastle, pointing at it with a tiny hand. “Can we take it home?” 

JJ tensed. He cleared his throat and shook his head. Normally, he would’ve found that adorable. But not now. Not in this situation. He couldn’t even react. He just needed to get the hell out of here. “No, sweetheart. It belongs here.” 

And there it was—the thing he hated. Talking to Liliana in front of Rafe. Living through this exact moment. 

Goddamn it, he should’ve never come to the beach today. 

“But—Mommy would love it,” Liliana said. 

JJ swallowed against the lump in his throat. He took her hand and pulled her back slightly, reaching for the beach bag. “Mommy will help you build a new one when she gets back. Come on, grab your bag. It’s time to go.” 

“A kid?!” 

Kelce’s voice rang out, full of shock and amusement. “Damn! Holy shit. So that’s it. That’s why you’ve been so busy? Jesus.” 

JJ clenched his jaw. He didn’t want him talking about Liliana. He didn’t want any of them talking about her. 

“Shut up, Kelce,” Rafe muttered. 

JJ hadn’t meant to, but his eyes flicked to Rafe—and what he saw made his stomach tighten. 

Rafe looked… off. His expression wasn’t just shock. It was something deeper. Confusion. Anger. A kind of helpless frustration. 

It was all tangled together on his face, like he was trying to make sense of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. His gaze kept bouncing—from JJ to Liliana, then back to you. Over and over, like he was connecting invisible dots in his head. 

Like he was trying to put together a puzzle. His lips parted slightly, his brows furrowed. And then JJ realized. 

Rafe didn’t know. 

Rafe had only ever thought about you and Liliana. Just the two of you. Not you, Liliana, and JJ. In his mind, it had never included JJ. Because— 

You’d never told him. 

You never told Rafe that JJ was in your life. 

And now, standing there, he was staring at you like a complete idiot, his face frozen in stunned disbelief. JJ felt his chest tighten, anger bubbling up. He wasn’t even sure who he was mad at. 

But underneath that anger, there was something else. 

A dull, aching kind of hurt. 

How could you not tell him?

Were you really coming to JJ for his opinion on Rafe meeting Liliana… but couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him you had someone in your life? 

JJ couldn’t help it—he felt hurt. He didn’t know if you were a family, but you had shouted at him that he was Liliana’s parent. You had said it, whether he liked it or not. And yet—despite saying it to him—you hadn’t mentioned him to Rafe. 

Fuck. 

Rafe took a step forward, and JJ swallowed hard. God, he hated him with every fiber of his being. 

“What’s her name?” Rafe’s voice was ice-cold—just like his expression. 

JJ’s fist clenched. He pulled Liliana a little closer as he spoke. “None of your damn business.” 

But Rafe stepped toward the little girl. “What’s your name?” His voice was steadier this time, more certain. He already knew—he had figured it out—but he needed to hear it. He needed confirmation, and JJ knew that all too well. 

Still—no matter how much he despised Rafe, he wasn’t going to lose it in front of Liliana. 

The second Rafe moved in, JJ dropped the beach bag and stepped right in front of him. Their chests nearly collided, the tension between them sharp enough to cut through the air. 

Rafe didn’t take his eyes off Liliana. 

JJ, on the other hand, stared straight at him. 

Kelce and Topper immediately went on high alert. Topper even grabbed Rafe’s arm, giving it a small tug—but Rafe didn’t budge. Not even an inch. 

“Back the fuck off,” JJ’s voice was lethal. 

When it came to Liliana, he wouldn’t hesitate. Not for a second. 

Liliana, sensing that someone was talking to her, tilted her head up and answered sweetly, “Liliana! But my family calls me Lily.” 

JJ squeezed his eyes shut for a second. He didn’t want to do this in front of her. Fighting in front of Liliana wasn’t an option. 

With a deep breath, he took a step back. 

“What the hell are you doing, man?” Kelce yanked Rafe’s arm harder this time, his face full of genuine confusion. 

Rafe staggered slightly, running a hand through his hair. 

He didn’t know what to do. 

His eyes kept darting between JJ and Liliana, his breaths coming out sharp and uneven. He was standing right by the ocean, in the open air, but somehow—it felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

JJ didn’t waste another second. He scooped Liliana up effortlessly. “Come on, Lily.” He grabbed the beach bag and turned. 

Then, just as he was about to leave, he glanced at Topper. For half a second, he debated whether to say anything at all. But in the end, he just sighed. “Happy birthday, Topper.” 

Liliana, ever the mimic, waved her little hand at him. “Happy birthday, Topper!” 

JJ walked off, moving fast. 

Meanwhile, Rafe stood frozen, stomach twisting, head spinning. He felt sick. He didn’t even know why—just that he couldn’t stand being here a second longer. And sure, it was Topper’s birthday, but right now? He couldn’t care less. 

What the hell was that? 

“What the hell was that, man?” Kelce echoed his thoughts, eyebrows furrowed. He was trying to make sense of what had just happened, but it wasn’t clicking. 

Rafe shook his head, his voice low and hoarse. “I’m not in the mood. I’m heading home.” 

He didn’t wait for a response. He didn’t even look back. 

Topper let out a slow whistle, mumbling under his breath. 

“The fuck was that?”

When JJ slammed the door shut, the sharp sound echoed through the house, thickening the already tense air. His shoulders were tight, his fingers gripping the door handle for a brief second before slowly relaxing. 

Running a hand through his hair, he let out a tired breath. His shirt still carried the salty trace of the ocean breeze, clinging to him like the weight of the day. He tugged at the fabric absentmindedly, fingers reaching up to rub the tension from the back of his neck—until a noise from the kitchen caught his attention. 

The soft clang of a metal spoon against a pot rang through the quiet house, making it sound even louder. 

Without rushing, he made his way down the hallway. When he reached the kitchen doorway, he saw you. 

Your back was to him. You had the lid of a gently simmering pot lifted, stirring the contents with steady, deliberate movements. The steam rose, hitting your face, but you didn’t flinch or pull back. Your expression was blank as you stared into the pot, but the way you stirred—rough, almost aggressive—gave you away. 

JJ knew you’d heard him come in. 

The slight tensing of your shoulders. The momentary pause of the spoon in your hand. 

You knew he was there. But you didn’t look up. 

Of course, you knew he was home—but after that argument? You had decided you weren’t acknowledging him just yet. If he was going to act like an ass, you could too. 

“Where’s Lily?” you asked, frowning slightly. You would’ve heard her by now if she were home. 

“With Cleo,” JJ answered, voice even. He didn’t look at you either. 

Your brows knitted together. Liliana being at Cleo’s didn’t make sense. Why would she be there? You followed JJ as he headed toward the living room, still not sparing you a glance. 

“I thought you were at the beach?” you said, stepping out of the kitchen. 

“We were.” His voice was devoid of emotion. 

God, that attitude was pissing you off. He was still acting like this because of your fight? Really? Like a damn child. 

You took a sharp breath, trying to rein in your irritation. 

“Then why is Liliana with Cleo?” Your tone had an edge to it now. You weren’t letting this slide—he owed you an explanation. 

JJ dropped onto the couch and, for the first time since he got home, finally turned to look at you. “Because we need to talk, and I can’t do that with Liliana in the house.” 

Your arms crossed as you leaned against the doorway, lifting a brow. “Oh? Thought you made yourself pretty damn clear this morning.” 

The memory of how he’d spoken to you earlier sent another wave of irritation through you. 

“And I don’t want to argue with you while Liliana’s home,” JJ continued, voice steady but tight with barely contained frustration. 

You scoffed, shaking your head. “So we’re gonna fight, huh? That’s what this is?” There was a mocking lilt to your tone. The irony of it all wasn’t lost on you—fighting seemed to be all you two did lately. 

JJ let out a dry chuckle. “Not exactly out of character for us these days, is it?” 

Despite the sarcasm, you could hear the undercurrent of resentment in his voice. He was sick of this, just like you were. But neither of you seemed to know how to stop. 

You exhaled slowly, rubbing your temples. This was exhausting. The constant tension, the biting remarks, the thick air of resentment clinging to every room you shared. “What are you mad about now?” you finally asked. 

JJ laughed—but there wasn’t a single ounce of amusement in it. 

“The beach,” he said, eyes locked on yours. “We were there. And then, out of nowhere, your boyfriend shows up.” 

Your posture stiffened instantly. The fuck was he on about now? 

Your brows pulled together, irritation spiking. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

JJ’s smirk disappeared, face darkening. “Rafe. He showed up.” 

Your jaw clenched. 

Oh, for fuck’s sake. 

He was acting like you had personally invited Rafe there, like you had orchestrated the whole thing. As if you had any control over where Rafe went and when. As if you even wanted to see him. 

Rolling your eyes, you turned on your heel, heading straight back to the kitchen. “You’re ridiculous.” 

JJ’s footsteps followed behind you almost instantly. 

You shook your head to yourself, already regretting even engaging in this conversation. You didn’t want to keep this fight going, didn’t want him following you, but you knew he wasn’t about to let it drop. 

“You really think I’m making shit up?” JJ’s voice was right behind you now. 

You grabbed the spoon and resumed stirring, refusing to look at him. “I don’t have time for your bullshit, especially not when you’re accusing me of stuff that makes no sense.” 

You heard the shuffle of his feet as he stepped into the kitchen. Your grip on the spoon tightened. 

“Oh, so I’m lying?” JJ’s voice dripped with mockery. “You two haven’t been talking again? What do you call that, then? A little romantic reunion, lovebirds?” 

Oh, he was doing this on purpose. You slammed the spatula down onto the counter, planting your hands on the marble. “For the love of God, will you just shut up?” 

JJ let out another humorless chuckle. “So this is where we’re at now?” 

Finally, you spun around to face him, leaning back against the counter. “I seriously cannot stand you right now. You show up just to pick a fight, then storm out like it’s my fault.” 

JJ spread his arms, smirk still plastered on his face. “So I’ve gone from best friend to unbearable? Great. That’s real fucking nice to hear.” 

That was it. Your patience snapped. 

“What the fuck is your problem?!” 

You were done. Done with the endless bickering, the passive-aggressive jabs, the way he kept pushing you for no reason. 

JJ’s smirk vanished instantly. His jaw tightened as he jabbed a finger in your direction, voice rising to match yours. “You! You are my fucking problem! You and whatever the hell you’ve been doing lately!” 

The room fell into an eerie silence. Your breaths were shallow, your heart pounding. JJ exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face, squeezing his eyes shut. 

You pressed your palms against the counter behind you, gripping it tightly. 

This wasn’t him. Not the JJ you knew. 

“I don’t understand you anymore,” you admitted quietly. “I’ve tried—but I just don’t.” 

JJ didn’t say a word. He didn’t even lift his head.

When you exhaled sharply, shaking your head, frustration tightened your chest. "I don’t understand you anymore either." 

You had always been upfront with him. Always. But he was leaving you hanging in this weird limbo, refusing to give you clarity while demanding it from you. He had no right to say that. You had never done anything to make things uncertain between you two. 

"I’ve always laid my cards on the table, JJ," you said, voice steady but edged with irritation. "If you don’t get me, it’s because you don’t want to." 

"Oh, sure. Of course," JJ scoffed, voice laced with sarcasm. He turned to leave, but then—he hesitated. And when he turned back, there was something unreadable in his eyes. 

"He didn’t know about me." The words slipped out so fast, they caught even him by surprise. 

"What?" You frowned, already preparing for whatever cryptic nonsense he was about to spout next. 

"Rafe," JJ clarified, jaw tightening. "He didn’t know about me." 

The realization hit you like a slap. So that was what this was about. 

You stared at him, waiting for him to say he was joking. Because surely—this had to be a joke. 

"You didn’t tell him about me?" JJ asked, his voice so serious it made your stomach twist. 

Your lips twitched slightly before you could stop them. A chuckle bubbled up, unbidden. You pressed a hand to your mouth, trying to contain it, but it was no use. Laughter slipped through, soft and incredulous. 

"You seriously think I spend every second talking to him?" you asked, amusement cutting through your exasperation. "I’ve seen him, what, twice? And neither time lasted more than ten minutes." 

JJ’s expression darkened. He didn’t seem amused in the slightest. "And yet, you didn’t mention me. You didn’t think to tell him that I’m a part of Liliana’s life?" 

Your eyebrows shot up. "Oh, so now you admit you have a say in Liliana’s life?" 

Because just this morning—hell, three days ago too—he had been going on and on about how he wasn’t her parent, how he had no claim over her. And now, suddenly, he cared? What, had a flower pot fallen on his head since the last time you spoke? 

You never knew which version of JJ you were going to get whenever he walked through that door. It was exhausting, trying to keep up. 

JJ opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but then he hesitated. You caught the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. 

You tilted your head, a little too entertained now. You knew him too well—knew this wasn’t just about Rafe. JJ was mad, sure, but there was something else underneath. Maybe even hurt. You had never really seen him like this before, but still, you knew him. Knew him down to his core. 

"You were practically screaming this morning about how you’re not a parent," you mused. "So what changed?" 

JJ rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair as he took a step back. "Don’t twist my words." 

You scoffed. "Oh, I’m twisting your words? That’s rich, coming from you." 

His refusal to just talk to you like a normal person was pushing you past your limit. What was so hard about explaining himself? Why did he always have to turn everything into a fight? Did he really think you wouldn’t understand? 

You shook your head. "That’s your thing, not mine." Your voice was sharp now, laced with frustration you couldn’t hide. 

You hated this—hated fighting with him like this. It felt wrong. It felt like something was breaking. And all you wanted was to put it back together. But every time you tried, it just—fell apart again. 

JJ let out a dry, humorless laugh, looking away. "Unbelievable." 

You couldn’t read his expression anymore. And you hated that. 

He ran his tongue over his teeth before giving you that half-smirk, the one that usually meant trouble. Your eye twitched. Was he seriously about to keep this up? He was standing here, acting like the victim, when he was the one who disappeared for three days without a word? When he hadn’t even bothered to explain himself? 

You didn’t want to compare him to Rafe. You really, really didn’t. But right now—he was acting just like him. 

Your patience snapped. 

You took a step forward, pointing a finger at him. "You’re the one who’s unbelievable." Whatever amusement you had before was gone. "How old are you, JJ? Because you sure as hell don’t act like a grown man. You don’t talk like one. All you know how to do is run away and leave me to figure out your mess." 

JJ’s jaw tightened. He shook his head, like he refused to accept what you were saying. "Don’t. Just—don’t." 

You arched a brow, taking another step closer. 

You never thought it would get like this between you two. JJ had been—everything. Your best friend. Your partner in crime. The one person you could always count on. And yet, here you were, standing inches apart, breathing heavy, anger crackling between you like a live wire. 

"Oh, what? You don’t like what I’m saying?" You let out a bitter laugh. "What’s next, huh? You gonna throw all the things you’ve done for me in my face? Or maybe, this time, when things get too hard, you’ll just leave for good? You’ll walk away from me and Liliana—" 

A hand clamped over your mouth, cutting you off mid-sentence. 

JJ had moved fast. Too fast. His eyes burned into yours, inches away, his palm firm but not forceful against your lips. His other hand—when had that landed on your waist? 

His voice was low, steady. "I would never do that." 

He held your gaze like he needed you to believe him. Like he was silently daring you to contradict him. His eyes flickered between yours, searching—pleading, even. 

But JJ was a liar. 

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, prying his hand away. He let you. He didn’t fight it. He moved with you, like he was mirroring your actions. Slow, controlled. 

"I don’t believe you," you said, not even hesitating. 

Maybe he wouldn’t leave. Maybe he really meant what he said. But you wanted to hurt him, just like he had hurt you. And for the first time, you saw it in his face. The flicker of something breaking.

Just as he stepped back, ready to retreat, the grip around your waist tightened. You couldn’t move.

JJ wasn’t going to let you have the last word. His gaze stayed locked onto yours, pupils blown wide. “I’m not that kind of person. You know that.” His voice was a low, angry whisper.

You swallowed hard. His breath fanned across your face. A part of you wanted to slap him, to take out every bit of pain and frustration from the past three days. You wanted him to pay for walking out on you, to shove him right back into whatever girl’s bed he had been crashing in.

You shook your head, eyes narrowing. He had no right to say this. Not after leaving you waiting by the door for three days straight. The JJ you knew—if he said he was coming back, he came back. He didn’t leave you staring at the door, wondering if he ever would.

“I don’t think I know you anymore.” Your voice was just as quiet as his, but you felt the sting of it in your own chest.

You hated the effect he had on you. Hated that he could still make you feel like this. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. You were used to people walking away, used to getting hurt, used to betrayal. But JJ? You had leaned on him. He was supposed to be different. He had never let you down before.

And you know what? That made it hurt even worse.

JJ exhaled sharply, shaking his head. A bitter smirk ghosted his lips. “But you do,” he murmured.

You weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself.

“I don’t think so.”

You knew him better than anyone. That’s why you lied. Because deep down, you knew that if he just talked to you—if he just explained what the hell was going on—you wouldn’t even be fighting right now. But JJ was stubborn. Too stubborn. And you knew he’d never do that.

JJ took a half-step back, but his hand never left your waist. His brows lifted slightly. “So what now? What’s your next move?”

You shrugged. That wasn’t your problem. He was the one who needed to explain, the one who needed to apologize. Were you going to sit around and wait? No. You’d go back to Asheville alone if you had to. But he needed to say something. If this was how it was going to be, maybe your time as friends had run its course.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But if you had just talked to me instead of throwing baseless accusations around, we wouldn’t even be here.”

JJ sucked in a sharp breath, stepping closer. His frustration radiated off him. “You drive me insane,” he muttered, his jaw tight. One hand ran through his hair, eyes squeezing shut.

You stared at him in disbelief. Oh, sure. Like this was your fault.

Before you could stop yourself, you shoved him—hard. He didn’t budge. If anything, the force just brought you closer to him. But you didn’t back down. You jabbed a finger into his chest.

“Oh, I drive you insane?” Your voice rose, incredulous. “You’re the one who’s making me lose my mind!”

How the hell was this getting turned around on you again? How did he always make it seem like you were the problem?

JJ opened his eyes, calm now, which only made your anger burn hotter. He tilted his head slightly, watching you. Everything about him irritated you in this moment. He didn’t even have to speak. Just existing right now was enough to piss you off.

His indifference. The way he had yelled at you earlier. The way he walked out, promising to come back but never did. The thought that he had been God-knows-where for three days, probably in someone else’s bed. The fact that when he finally returned, he acted like you were the one in the wrong. The never-ending fights. The accusations. The way he could still compare you to Rafe—

Your stomach twisted with disgust. Not just anger. Disgust.

How dare he? After everything, how could he act like this was just some normal breakup? Like you were just going to go crawling back? You almost lost the baby, for fuck’s sake. You spent four years suffering, and he was the first person to see that pain firsthand.

You trusted him. You—you loved him. And the first chance he got, he threw it back in your face like it was nothing.

Fuck him.

He had left you. He had made you wonder if he was ever coming back. And now? Now you were the bad guy? Again? Just like when you were pregnant and chose not to go through with the abortion? Just like every other time when somehow, it was always your fault?

Fuck that.

“You never listen to me,” you snapped. “I came to you for this decision, but you—”

You tried to explain yourself. Again. Even though you shouldn’t have to. You should just tell JJ to go to hell and be done with it. But here you were, still trying to make him understand.

Your voice faltered. Because you didn’t hate him. You couldn’t. But God, you wished you did. It would hurt a lot less if you could just hate him.

But before you could say anything else, JJ moved.

His hand caught yours, gripping it tight. Before you knew what was happening, he tugged you forward. His other arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer—

Then he dipped down, and before you could even register what was happening, his lips crashed against yours.

For a moment, your brain blanked.

It didn’t last long.

Your free hand instinctively moved to his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. You weren’t thinking. Every sound in your head shut off.

JJ’s hand tightened around your waist, thumbs brushing slow circles against your skin. The kiss deepened, urgent, like he was making up for every second he had spent away.

He guided you backward. You took a few steps before your lower back bumped against the kitchen counter. You barely even noticed. JJ made a quiet sound against your lips when you pulled him in closer by the nape of his neck.

His hands slid lower, fingers gripping at your hips. Your heart pounded. A warning, maybe. But you ignored it. You didn’t want to think about right or wrong right now.

Because this—this was right. JJ’s hands on you. The way your bodies fit together effortlessly. The way every movement, every kiss, felt like second nature.

Like you were made for this.

JJ’s hands moved, gripping beneath your thighs. In one smooth motion, he lifted you, setting you on the counter. You gasped softly at the sudden movement, your hands flying to his shoulders.

Now you were eye level. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you in again, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

You both pulled back at the same time, gasping for air. When your eyes met for just a second, something stirred inside you. JJ closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours, your uneven breaths the only sound filling the space. 

His hands stayed on your hips. As you tilted your head up slightly, his lips brushed against yours again. Your hand instinctively reached for his cheek, but this kiss was shorter than you expected. JJ turned his head away, breaking it off, and you licked your lips absentmindedly. 

Slowly, his hands slid away from your hips. His gaze was somewhere else as he cleared his throat, rubbing his head like he was trying to shake something off. 

"I'm sorry. I— I shouldn’t have done that." 

The words hit like a punch to the gut. 

Standing there, you felt completely exposed, like he had stripped you down to your very core. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears while your hands had turned ice cold. 

Had that really just happened? Had you imagined it? Because once again, JJ was acting like it hadn’t. 

Was he regretting it? You hadn’t done anything wrong. Right? 

Had you crossed a line? 

You didn’t know what was happening, why he had suddenly pulled away, but there was a burning sting at the tip of your nose. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

You moved to step down from the counter, his name on the tip of your tongue—but JJ took another step back. His eyes never once met yours. 

"I should go. I— I don’t know what I’m doing. I wasn’t thinking. This was a mistake. I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry." 

Then, without so much as a glance, he walked out of the kitchen. 

You stayed frozen where you were. The sound of a door closing echoed through the house moments later, making you flinch. 

He had left you again. Left you alone in this house, only this time, with even deeper wounds. 

You had no idea what would happen next—you weren’t a fortune teller. But what you did know was that the real question wasn’t about the future. It was about how you were ever supposed to trust him again. 

Because JJ had just erased five years of your past like they meant nothing. 

He had been the one to protect you, and the one to hurt you. The one to kiss you, and the one to walk away. 

And you? Where did you fit into this story? Were you always just the one left behind? 

There had to be a reason. A justification for why he had snapped, for why he kept pushing and pulling, for all of it. But the worst part? 

You weren’t even sure if you wanted to hear it anymore. 

Your lips trembled as you shut your eyes. 

Five years later. Same island. Same feeling of being abandoned. 

Only the names had changed. 

Your mind replayed the image of Rafe walking out the door the moment he found out about Liliana. 

You had called Rafe a coward, hadn’t you? He was. But what about JJ? 

JJ was just another coward, just as fucked-up as the rest of them. Maybe the real mistake had been trusting anyone more than yourself in the first place. Maybe that’s what these last few days had been trying to tell you all along. 

Pathetic. 

You had trusted him more than you had ever trusted yourself. And for what? 

For him to run the first chance he got—just like the last one. 

Turns out, five years hadn’t changed a damn thing. Five years ago, you were an idiot. And now? 

Still the same damn fool.

[pshbites]

BEWITCHED ━ ksn

pairing : librarian!sunoo x fem!reader genre : strangers to lovers, like at first sight, fluff warnings : none! synopsis : sunoo lived a quiet life but what happens when he meets someone who just bewitches him wc : 0.6k a/n : this is for roni (happy belated bday) first sunoo work WOO!!!

if u enjoyed pls like & reblog, feedback is always appreciated!!

sunoo felt like a stalker. it wasn’t like he meant to keep following you but the shelves you kept going to just happened to be the ones he had to rearrange. he glanced over to you, skimming through a page of this random sci-fi/thriller book you picked up. he smiled softly, admiring your features. the way your hair sat so perfectly or how you pursed your lips, focusing on the plot of the book. 

you were gorgeous to put it simply. you caught his eye the second you walked in and something about you just drew him to you. he didn’t know how or why, it was like you bewitched him. sunoo looked away and looked at the bookshelves again, trying to distract himself. 

“you’re not slick, you know that?” you said, putting the book back on the shelf and turning to sunoo. “i.. i wasn’t like following you or anything” sunoo sputtered out, cheeks flushing into a soft pink. “mhm.. have fun rearranging those books” you said, smiling softly then walking past him to leave. once he heard the bookstore door open and close he let out a breath he was unknowingly holding. never again, he thought, sighing as he went back to rearranging the shelf. 

…

a couple days had passed since the bookstore incident and the only thing on your mind was him. you had noticed he was following you throughout the store and at some point you looked his way. he was so pretty, everything about him was so pretty but you couldn’t figure out why, like he had bewitched you. it did weird you out a little but you figured out he was admiring you, like when he kept glancing at you as if you didn’t notice, cute. 

whatever spell he had on you was working because here you stood, in front of the same bookstore from last week. you entered and smiled softly at the same boy who was now behind the counter. he smiled back but it seemed that maybe he didn’t recognize you. you sighed and went to the same shelf you left before. 

sunoo smiled to himself as you disappeared behind the shelves. you were back, he was sure he would’ve scared you away after the encounter you two had. he drummed his fingers on the counter, in anticipation that you would hopefully check out a book. that way he could just see you closer. he didn’t know why he was acting this way, just something about you. whatever, sunoo thought, distracting himself with logging in orders. 

you picked up the very same book you left previously and walked over to the register. sunoo smiled softly at you then looked at the book, this was his chance to make a move, he thought. oh? the book from last week? no that’s too weird.. fun book i’ve read this one well no he hasn’t read it. can i have your number now his brain was just spewing out anything. 

“last week from book?” he sputtered out, cheeks flushing at what he said. you looked at him, trying to hold back a laugh. sunoo pursed his lips and looked down at the keyboard, logging in the check out. he slid the book towards you along with a slip of paper. “sign there and you can head out” his voice was softer, probably because he was embarrassed. 

you scribbled your signature and slid the paper to him, smiling softly as you picked up the book and left the store. sunoo sighed and flipped over the paper to reveal something unexpected. 

‘you’re cute! text me at xxx-xxx-xxxx - yn’ 

sunoo smiled softly and put the piece of paper in his pocket. if anyone else were to say how sunoo acted the rest of the day, they would say he had a permanent smile glued onto his face.

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[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

to many more | s.r. x liaison!fem reader

“what’s your favorite book?”

spencer looked away from his open files to turn in his chair to see you standing behind him, a couple of manila folders held close to your baby blue long sleeve dress shirt. he had to keep his eyes from dropping lower to get a glance at the curves that hugged to your black pants.

he coughed as he blinked a few times behind his glasses, “uh, well there’s- there’s too many to choose from. if you’re asking about general literature i’d probably say-“

you held a hand out with a shaky smile, “sorry. don’t mean to interrupt. but um, i’m asking if there’s a book or story that’s very meaningful full for you.”

spencer straightened his mouth, feeling it form into that usual line. he let his mind scour for a moment, “uh maybe… alice in wonderland. my mom used to read it as a bed time story from time to time in between narnia and fifteenth century literature. she used to read me valentines poems.”

he saw your brows raise for a moment, “that’s sweet. which did she recite the most?” you readjusted the files.

spencer tapped his fingers over his thighs, “mostly chaucer’s parlement of foules. The poem, which is in the form of a dream vision in rhyme royal stanza, contains one of the earliest references to the idea that St. Valentine's Day is a special day for lovers…” he stopped short when he saw a bored expression draping your face. “sorry, rambling.”

your eyes widen and you took a step closer, “no, no. you’re fine. your voice soothes me, probably looked a bit drowsy.”

spencer scrunched his face, “most people would look tired cause i’m boring them to sleep.” he saw your face fall at his words, he didn’t like the sight.

“well i like hearing your information. i find what you know quite fascinating, like last week you told me that flamingos feathers are actually white or pale gray, but appear pink cause of algae and shrimp. i would’ve never know that.” your smile pushed your cheeks, pupils beaming alight as he felt them ghostly tracing his face.

bashful your eyes directed to your feet, “i enjoyed our date last week.” moving some fingers to run behind your ear, “i’ve always wanted to visit the planetarium, but never found the time.”

spencer smiled fondly, “i’m glad i was able to get you the chance. sometimes they do thirty minute segments on each zodiac sign, it’s when i see a lot of ‘psychics’.”

you chuckled lightly, spencer’s grin widened. “i should take you to one for fun. just to test how real they are.”

he couldn’t help rolling his eyes, “don’t waste your money.” you shrugged simply, “could be a fun third date. she can verify that we’re a match.” giving your upper body a slight twisting at the waist.

before spencer could say anything in reply, you both turned to see hotch calling you from his upper office. “shit, forgot i had to drop these off. i’ll see you later.” and you stepped into his space to lean in an leave a kiss to his forehead. he could feel the residue of your fading gloss. he was happy there wasn’t many people in the bullpen, he didn’t want to deal with morgan’s teasing right now.

the only possible person to have witnessed that display would be hotch. “reid, a word,” his stern voice causing him to flinch in his seat. he quickly made his way up the steps and into the office, closing the door behind him and standing beside you with his hands behind his back. he wasn’t planning to have this conversation a month early.

“is there something you both would like to inform me on?” hotch letting either of you confirm your new relationship instead of assuming.

“uh,” you started to say before spencer interrupted more confidently, “y/n and i are currently seeing each other. it’s only been about two months.” he turned to you, eyes locking and both of you smiled at each other, “but i’d like to believe this will last awhile.”

“well,” hotch cleared his throat, “since you’ve probably read through the handbook spencer, there isn’t anything wrong with fraternization between employees. i would just need both of you to fill out some paperwork.”

you both nodded in agreement. “and please, try not to let this distract you in the field. otherwise you’ll have to be in separate rooms, hotel and assignments.”

“yes sir,” giving a playful salute as he dismissed you both. you decided to pull spencer by his hand in the direction of your, shared office, already knowing jj was busy elsewhere.

“i hope that was-“ you spun into spencer, palms on his cheeks as your lips pressed onto his. he went still for a moment, but you knew he just needed a second to process. his fingers curled along your hips, his warmth seeping through your fabric and onto your skin.

you sighed into his mouth as he worked your lips apart, taking the lead he moved both of you further into the office. your thighs hit the edge, a small gasping allowing for spencer to boldly slip his tongue into your mouth, your heart was pumping in your ears.

if you weren’t in the office you’d let your greedy fingers start to work at unbuttoning his shirt, but instead you were stopped short when someone groaned out, “holy shit!”

spencer was the first to jump away and you saw that penelope and jj were at the threshold with jaws dropped and bugged eyes. “you freaky love birds!” penelope screeched.

“i need to burn this room,” jj groaned as she turned on her heels.

[the-winter-spider]

The Alchemy | Part Six

NFL! Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Toxic relationship, mentions of abuse.

A/N: More angsty snd big things happening soooooon 👀 not edited or proof read atm, im laazzyyyyyyy

Masterpost

-----

The envelope sat on the kitchen table, the thick stack of paperwork neatly placed beside John’s untouched cup of coffee. You hadn’t thought anything of it at first, just another bill, another document that John liked to handle. He always told you he was better with that kind of thing, that you had enough on your plate with work.

But when you picked it up, your name was there, your lease agreement except something was different.

Your breath caught in your throat as you read over the bolded lines. Primary Leaseholder: John Walker.

Your stomach twisted.

“John?” you called hesitantly, the paper trembling in your hands. “What is this?”

He looked up from his phone, brow raised. “What’s what?”

You turned the lease toward him, your finger pressing against the printed words. “This, it says you’re the main leaseholder. You weren’t even on the lease before, I didn’t authorize this.”

John sighed, setting his phone down with a slow, deliberate motion. “Baby, what are you talking about?”

“I didn’t sign anything,” you said, your voice shaky but firm. “I would never sign something like this without knowing.”

His eyes darkened just slightly, but his expression remained frustratingly calm. “Yes, you did,” he said smoothly. “See?”

He slid another sheet of paper toward you, his finger tapping at the bottom of the page. Your signature, your signature, was there, clear as day.

Except it wasn’t. It was your name and it was almost completely identical to your signature but you knew it wasn’t yours.

Your throat tightened. “John, I, I don’t remember signing this.”

His chuckle was soft, almost condescending. “Come on, sweetheart. You were probably just distracted. You sign stuff all the time, contracts, media forms, waivers. You probably just forgot.”

You shook your head, an uneasy feeling creeping up your spine. “No. I would’ve remembered this.”

He reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours as he squeezed your hand gently. “You did sign it. We talked about it, remember? We agreed it was better this way, less stress on you, more stability for us. I handle all this stuff anyway, don’t I?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Did we talk about this?

No. No, you knew you wouldn’t have agreed to this. You’d been careful about keeping the lease in your name, about having that bit of independence, one thing that was yours. This place was yours before John and you even got together. It was yours.

But John looked so sure. So patient, like he was explaining something obvious to you, something you should already understand.

Your pulse pounded in your ears. “I just… I don’t remember.”

He squeezed your hand tighter. “Because you didn’t think twice about it,” he said gently. “You trust me, don’t you?”

You swallowed hard. “I..of course I do.”

His lips curved into that easy, knowing smile. “Then trust me when I say this is for the best. I handle everything else, don’t I? Bills, travel, groceries… You don’t need to stress about this kind of thing.”

You nodded slowly, the edges of your doubt blurring under the weight of his reassurance. He was right, you were always busy, always juggling a million things at once. Maybe you had signed it without thinking. Maybe it had just slipped your mind.

Maybe you were just overreacting. He always said you were.

John lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your fingers. “I’ve got us, baby,” he murmured, his voice smooth as silk. “You don’t have to worry about anything.”

But as he gathered the papers and tucked them away, your stomach twisted with something cold and heavy.

Something that told you, no matter how much he insisted, you should be worried.

---

The cab ride back to the hotel felt like an out-of-body experience. You sat stiffly in the backseat, your fingers twisting in your lap, your gaze locked onto the city lights blurring past the window. The driver made occasional small talk, asking if you’d had a good night, if the bar was fun, but you barely heard him. You gave quiet, noncommittal responses, nodding at the right moments, but the words barely registered.

Your mind was still back at the bar, still at him.

Still at the way John had tightened his grip on your wrist, squeezing just hard enough to make a silent point before smiling and joking like he hadn’t just bruised you in front of his teammates. Still at the way he’d forced that kiss on you, too rough, too possessive, just to prove something to Bucky.

Bucky.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a second, exhaling shakily.

God, Bucky had seen it, actually seen it, the way he was.

He’d seen the way you flinched, the way John’s hand lingered, the way you had let him do it, because what else could you do? John had made sure of that, that feeling of helplessness, of having nowhere else to go, nowhere else to be if you weren’t by his side.

If you left him…the thought alone made your stomach drop. Your dream job, your apartment. Your entire life all of it was tangled up in him. Because of course he’d added his name to the lease and of course he had pulled strings for this job, ensuring that if you ever even thought about leaving, he’d have the power to rip everything out from under you. Of course you were in a position you told yourself you’d never be in.

The cab slowed as the hotel came into view, and suddenly, the reality of the situation settled over you like a crushing weight, you were in fight or flight mode, just wanting to be in your hotel room and work on some stuff you still had to power through since Johns abruptly showed up.

Bucky was waiting, your stomach twisted sharply when you spotted him outside your hotel room door, leaning against the wall, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie. He was still in his clothes from the bar, but his sleeves were pushed up now, tension running through his forearms. His gaze lifted the second you stepped into the hallway, something unreadable flashing across his face.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “What are you doing here?”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, shifting his weight before meeting your eyes. “Can we talk?”

The words hit you harder than you expected. Because Bucky didn’t ask for things like this. Not usually, not when he had something to say. He just said it. But there was something careful about the way he was looking at you now, something hesitant, like he was giving you an out if you wanted to take it and maybe you should take it.

Because talking to Bucky meant admitting things, things you had spent years avoiding, years stuffing deep down where they couldn’t touch you. If you let Bucky back in, even just a little, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to stop.

You hesitated. “John’s gonna be back soon,” you murmured, barely recognizing your own voice.

Bucky nodded like he already knew, like he had already thought of everything before he even stepped foot in this hallway. “Sam’s still there,” he said quietly. “I told him to text me when he leaves.” His blue eyes held yours, unrelenting but careful. “Just give me a few minutes. Please.”

Your chest ached. You should have told him no. Should have told him that whatever needed to be said didn’t need to be said, not tonight. But when you opened your mouth, the words didn’t come. Instead, you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can we do it in your room?”

Bucky’s brows pulled together for a second, but then he nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

The walk down the hall was agonizingly slow, even though it only took a minute. You kept your eyes forward, but your heart was hammering against your ribs, each step another reminder that you weren’t ready for whatever was about to happen.

Because Bucky had always been your weak spot. Bucky had seen you, truly seen you in a way no one else ever had.

And when you finally stopped in front of his door, when he turned to face you, jaw tight, eyes soft, like he was waiting you realized you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to keep hiding.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Bucky stood near the window, hands braced on his hips, breathing hard like he was trying to keep himself from exploding. You stood on the other side of the room, your arms wrapped around yourself, staring at the floor, feeling like you were crumbling from the inside out.

Neither of you had said anything since he closed the door behind you. Neither of you knew how to start.

But Bucky had never been one for patience. “Why are you with him?” His voice was sharp, cutting straight through the thick air between you.

You flinched. “Bucky..”

“No,” he snapped, taking a step closer. “No bullshit, no deflecting, no ‘it’s complicated.’ Why are you with him?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head. “It’s not that easy.”

“Why not?” He was almost pleading now, his voice raw, desperate. “You don’t love him. Not the way you should, I know you don’t and what he does, that’s not love.”

You exhaled shakily, the weight of his words pressing down on you. “I could lose this job, Bucky,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “If I lose this job, I don’t have the money, then I can't afford my apartment that might not even be mine anymore and I don’t even know if I got this job on my own, or if John actually made it happen for me. Sometimes he just says things, I don’t..” Your throat closed, the panic rising in your chest. “I don’t know what happens to me if I leave.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his frustration spilling over. “You think I would let them take this job from you?” His voice was sharp, his blue eyes burning. “You think I’d just stand by and let that happen?”

“I don’t expect you to fix this for me, Bucky!” you shot back, your voice rising now. “I can’t explain it to you, I can’t make you understand!”

He took a step closer. “Then tell me this,” he said, his voice lower now, more controlled, but no less intense. “Does he hurt you?”

The question made your stomach drop. “He hasn’t hit me,” you said, too quickly, too defensively. “If that’s what you’re asking.” You forced a hollow laugh. “Not like my dad did to my mom.”

Bucky inhaled sharply, his jaw clenching. Then, his eyes flickered downward, toward your arm.

You followed his gaze, toward the faint outline of bruising near your wrist.

Bucky’s whole body went rigid. “What’s that then?”

You swallowed hard, heart pounding. Quickly, you covered it with your other hand. “He just has a strong hold, that’s all.”

Bucky exhaled harshly, dragging a hand over his face like he was trying to physically push down the rage building inside him. “Why are you making excuses for this?” His voice was hoarse, disbelief and heartbreak tangled together. “You’re putting yourself through the same shit your mom went through, and you don’t have to.”

Your breath hitched. “It’s not the same.”

“The hell it’s not,” he snapped, stepping forward again. “The only difference is your dad had alcohol in his system. Somehow, that makes it worse, Y/N. John doesn’t even have that excuse.”

You shook your head, your whole body trembling. “You don’t get it, Bucky. I don’t have anyone.” Your voice cracked. “My dad’s dead. My mom’s dead. I have nothing. The only person I have is…”

“What about me?”

The words were nearly shouted, bursting out of him like he couldn’t hold them in anymore.

You froze.

Bucky’s chest was rising and falling quickly, his blue eyes blazing. “What about me?” he said again, quieter this time. “You have me.”

Your throat tightened. “Do I?”

His expression faltered, just slightly but you saw it.

“Because you made it pretty damn clear all those years ago that I didn’t have you!” you said, your voice shaking with the weight of everything. “You left me, Bucky. We were leaving my dad, we were leaving that life, this life and you left me too!”

Bucky was staring at you, his chest rising and falling heavily, his lips parted like he wanted to say something, needed to say something. But you had just ripped the air from his lungs, just shattered the ground beneath him, and for a long moment, all he could do was stand there, stunned.

You had never said it out loud before. Not like this, not with that much hurt behind it.

You left me too.

His hands curled into fists at his sides, like he was trying to physically stop himself from reaching for you. His entire body was taut, like a bowstring pulled too tight, ready to snap at any second.

“I never wanted to lose you,” Bucky said, his voice rough, raw. “You think I wanted that? I didn't mean for it to get these far, all these years without seeing you, without knowing you, you think I chose that?”

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking your head as tears burned your eyes. “That’s exactly what you did, Bucky.”

“I was a kid,” he shot back. “A stupid, scared kid who didn’t know how to handle losing the only person who ever mattered to him.” His voice cracked, and your breath caught in your throat. “I fucked up, Y/N. I fucked up so bad.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, but you barely noticed. “Yeah,” you whispered. “You did.”

Bucky took a shaky breath, like he was trying to hold himself together, but the cracks were too deep now, too jagged. “I spent years trying to make up for it,” he admitted, his voice desperate. “That’s why I worked so fucking hard. That’s why I pushed myself until I couldn’t breathe, until I had nothing left because I wanted to be something, Y/N. I wanted to be worthy of you, to make up for just abandoning you.”

Your brows furrowed, your lips parting slightly. “Bucky…”

“I love you.”

The words came out in a rush, like he couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to. Your heart slammed against your ribs, and you just stared at him, unable to process what he had just said.

“I love you,” he said again, his voice breaking. “I’ve always loved you. From the moment we were kids, from the moment I realized that nobody, nobody made me feel the way you did.” His hands were shaking now, and his breathing was uneven, and God, God, he looked wrecked. “You were the only thing I ever wanted, and I let you slip through my fingers. I wasn’t fast enough, If I was faster I woulda caught up to you!”

Tears spilled freely down your cheeks now, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn't think.

Bucky took a step closer, his blue eyes searching yours frantically, like he was still trying to memorize every part of you, just in case this was the last time. “That’s why I went to New York,” he confessed. “I went because I thought you’d be there, that was your dream. I thought I’d find you and when I didn’t…” He exhaled shakily, raking a hand through his hair. “It was like you fell off the fucking face of the Earth. I had no way to reach you. I tried, I tried.”

Your lip trembled. “Bucky…”

“I took this contract because yeah, I love football, but you, you were always the goal.” His voice softened just slightly, but the weight of his words pressed down on you like an avalanche. “I thought maybe if I was here, if I was in a position where you could find me… maybe you would.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, the lump in your throat growing bigger.

Bucky let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “And then you sorta did, you showed up and I thought, this is it. This is my second chance.” His eyes burned into yours. “But you’re with him and he doesn't deserve you, he doesn’t love you the way I do, I love you, I love you.”

Before you could even think of what to say, Bucky’s phone rang. The sharp sound cut through the tension like a knife, making you jolt slightly. Bucky clenched his jaw and pulled it from his pocket, glancing at the screen.

Sam.

Your stomach dropped. You didn’t need to hear what he was going to say. You already knew.

Bucky exhaled sharply and answered. “Yeah?”

On the other end, Sam sighed. “He just left.”

Bucky closed his eyes briefly, his hand tightening around the phone. “Thanks.”

And then he hung up, when his gaze met yours again, you were already shaking your head.

“I can’t do this, Bucky.” Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “I have to go.”

“No.” His voice was firm, almost desperate. He stepped forward, reaching for you, but hesitated at the last second, his hands hovering near your arms but never touching. “Don’t go back to him.”

You closed your eyes, willing yourself not to cry harder. “It’s not that easy, Bucky.”

“Yes, it is,” he pleaded. “I’m here. I’ll help you. You don’t have to love me back, I swear to God, you don’t. But you were my best friend, and you always will be. Please, Y/N.”

A sob built in your throat, but you swallowed it down. You reached up, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“I have to go,” you whispered.

Bucky shook his head, his expression shattered. “Don’t, please..”

But you were already moving toward the door, you didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

The second you made it to your room, you slammed the door behind you, bracing yourself against it as your breath came in ragged, uneven gasps. Your hands were shaking, your chest aching, and no matter how many times you wiped your face, the tears wouldn’t stop.

You slid down against the door, curling into yourself as you tried to breathe.

---

Your childhood bedroom was nearly empty, stripped of everything that had once made it yours. The posters had been peeled from the walls, the bookshelves bare, the bed nothing but a frame and a stripped mattress. The pictures of Bucky and you that were once littered across your wall, were gone. The last remnants of your life here had been packed into boxes, stacked neatly by the door, ready to be loaded into the car.

But you weren’t ready.

You stood at your window, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, your heart pounding with a desperate, pleading rhythm. He’s coming. He has to be coming.

“Sweetie, we need to go before your father gets home,” your mom called from the hallway, her voice low, urgent.

“One more minute,” you whispered, more to yourself than to her. “Please, just one more.”

You didn’t move. Your hands trembled as you gripped the window frame, your stomach twisting with hope and dread. Bucky wouldn’t just let you leave. He wouldn’t.

You had spent the entire week waiting for him to say something. You had walked past his locker slower than usual, lingered by his house on your way home, given him every possible opportunity. But he had been silent.

And now, time was up. This was it, and he wasn’t here to say goodbye.

Your mom appeared in the doorway, her eyes soft but filled with urgency. “Baby, we have to go.”

You turned to face her, your breath hitching. “He’s supposed to be here,” you whispered.

Her face fell. “Oh, sweetheart…”

Your chest constricted painfully, and your nails dug into your palms. “Just… one more minute.”

Your mom hesitated, looking toward the front door like she could feel the danger creeping closer. But then she sighed and gave you a small nod. “One more.”

You turned back to the window, the same window Bucky used to climb through when the world felt too heavy, the same one you’d sneak out of when adventure called in the middle of the night. Your gaze drifted to the street below, the one where you’d run barefoot together, where he spun you around under flickering streetlights like the whole world belonged to just the two of you.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, lodged so tightly in your throat it hurt to breathe. The same heart that had always, always belonged to him and now, it was the heart he was breaking.

Nothing.

No sign of him.

No sign of the boy who had promised to be your best friend forever.

Your mom touched your arm gently. “It’s time.”

Your vision blurred as you took a shaky breath. The finality of it all settled in like a weight on your chest.

Bucky wasn’t coming, he actually wasn't coming.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to move, your legs feeling like they belonged to someone else as you walked out of the room, out of the house, and into the car.

And as you drove away, you kept your eyes glued to the side mirror, hoping, praying, to see him come running after you. But he never did.

Bucky had been pacing his room for the past hour, his hands in his hair, his stomach in knots. Go to her. Just go to her.

But he couldn’t.

Every time he reached for his door, he hesitated. Every time he thought about what he would say, his throat closed up. I’m sorry. I was an idiot. I am an idiot, I was being selfish. He should've told you that a little distance for a year never hurt anyone, especially the two of you. He should've told you he would drive down, that he would call and video chat everyday. He should've told you he was happy that your Mom was finally leaving that drunken asshole, he should have told you he was glad you were finally going to be safe. He should've told you he was in love with you.

But what if you didn’t want to hear it? What if it was already too late? The thought paralyzed him, until it hit him.

What the fuck am I doing?

His heart slammed against his ribs as he bolted out of his room, nearly tripping over himself as he ran down the stairs and out the front door. The world around him blurred as he sprinted down the street, his pulse roaring in his ears.

Please still be there. Please, God, let her still be there.

But as he rounded the corner onto your street, his feet stopped.

The driveway was empty, the car was gone. He staggered forward, chest heaving, his breath catching in his throat.

“No, no, no”

His hands found the chain-link fence that bordered your yard, gripping it so tight his knuckles turned white. His eyes darted across the front porch, the darkened windows, the abandoned boxes left on the curb.

You were gone.

A sharp, broken sound tore from his throat as he slid down the fence, his legs giving out beneath him. His fingers curled into the dirt, his head dropping forward as a sob ripped through him.

---

The door slammed against the wall as John stumbled into the hotel room, the sharp scent of whiskey and unfamiliar perfume hitting you before his voice did.

“Baby,” he called, his tone thick with alcohol, slurring just enough to make your stomach churn. “You awake?”

You didn’t move, didn’t answer. Maybe if you stayed still long enough, he’d think you were asleep. Maybe he’d leave you alone for once.

But the floor creaked under his weight as he crossed the room, and then suddenly, he was kneeling at your side of the bed. His breath, warm and sour, fanned across your cheek as he whispered, “Honey, wake up.”

You forced yourself to stir, blinking slowly like you’d just come out of a deep sleep. Your body was stiff, tense, but you softened your expression as you turned to him.

John smiled, his eyes glassy, unfocused, but still locked onto you like you were his entire world and that scared you. His fingers slid through your hair, slow and tender, before trailing down to your cheek, you braced yourself but he cradled your face like you were something fragile. Like he hadn’t spent the night reminding you just how small you really were, it made you want to puke.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice breaking. His forehead pressed against yours, and you could feel the way he was swaying slightly, his balance off. “I didn’t mean to act like that. I don’t know what came over me. I just… I get these strong feelings, you know? You just make me so…” He stopped, exhaling shakily.

You swallowed, nodding slightly, pretending you knew exactly what he meant. Of course it was your fault.

He kissed your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles like a man making a promise he had no intention of keeping. “I love you,” he whispered desperately, squeezing your fingers. “Please forgive me.”

You hesitated, only for a second. “…Okay,” you whispered, barely audible, but he latched onto it like it was a lifeline.

“Oh, thank God,” he breathed, his shoulders sagging in relief. He stumbled onto the bed beside you, kicking off his shoes clumsily before pulling the blankets over himself. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, deep and heavy in sleep.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, unmoving and then, when you were sure he was out, when you knew he wouldn’t hear you turned onto your side, curled in on yourself, and let the silent sobs take over.

---

The knock at the door was sharp, cutting through the quiet of Bucky’s hotel room. He hadn’t been able to sleep, his mind was too full, too loud but he hadn’t expected company either.

Dragging a tired hand down his face, he pushed himself off the bed and walked over, unlocking the door before pulling it open.

“Sam?” Bucky frowned. “It’s late, what are you doing here?”

Sam raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah, well, why are you answering?”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, leaning against the doorframe. “I was hoping it would be Y/N.”

Sam gave him a knowing look before tilting his head toward the room. “Can I come in for a second?”

Bucky stepped aside, letting him in. Sam walked in slowly, glancing around before settling against the desk. He hesitated, his usual easygoing demeanor laced with something heavier.

“She’s in deep, Buck,” Sam said finally, his voice quieter than usual. “That relationship… it’s not healthy.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. He knew that already had felt it, had seen it. Had heard the way John spoke to you, watched the way you tensed under his touch, the way your light dimmed every time he pulled you close.

“I’ve seen that before,” Sam continued, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “My sister’s best friend, she was in something like that. She always said it wasn’t that bad, that he didn’t hit her, that she could handle it.” He paused, his throat bobbing. “She didn’t make it out.”

Bucky winced. “I can’t let that happen to her,” Bucky said, his voice low, like the words were a confession.

Sam watched him carefully, waiting.

Bucky exhaled, his fingers flexing at his sides. “Her dad,” he started, then stopped. “When we were kids… he used to come home drunk, and things would break. I’d hear it from my house, yelling, glass shattering, her mom making excuses the next day.” He swallowed hard, the memories tightening around his throat. “She’d say she was clumsy. That she tripped because Y/N left things on the stairs. But she didn’t, she never did.”

Sam’s expression darkened.

Bucky shook his head. “Sometimes he’d lose it on her too,” he admitted. “She wouldn’t tell me, but I knew. I’d see the look in her eyes, hear it. He threw a god damn bottle at her head, she was 16” His hands curled into fists. “And I didn’t do enough to stop it.”

Sam stepped closer. “That’s not on you, Buck.”

Bucky let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Isn’t it? I was supposed to protect her. Instead, I let her walk right into this.” His voice wavered, something breaking inside him. He looked up at Sam, his eyes shining with something raw. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her.”

Sam sighed, running a hand over his face. “She’s a smart girl, man. She knows this isn’t healthy. I saw the look on her face at the bar.” He exhaled heavily. “But you can’t force her to walk away. All you can do is be there for her. Make sure she knows she has someone to turn to when she’s ready.”

Bucky shook his head. “I can’t just stand by,” he said, his voice thick. “Not when the only girl I’ve ever loved is hurting.”

Sam stilled, his eyes narrowing slightly before he let out a soft chuckle. “I knew it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I knew it.”

Bucky smiled lightly, looking away.

Sam smirked. “Does she know?”

Bucky nodded, his jaw tightening. “I just told her, ike an hour ago.”

Sam’s expression softened. “Then you did what you could do,” he said simply. “Now, you just have to be there when she needs you.” He pushed off the desk, stretching. “Get some rest, man. Travel day tomorrow.”

Bucky didn’t answer, just exhaled sharply through his nose as Sam headed toward the door.

Before leaving, Sam glanced back. “Goodnight, Buck.”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged slightly as the door clicked shut. But sleep still wouldn’t come.

[ihrthoney]

for us

pairings: namgyu x preg!reader

warnings: angst & fluff :p

an: i started my first big girl job but im motivated so ill try to post more :)! i haven’t posted in a minute and i hate pregnancy tropes but i make the exception for squid games lol. i will make a part two!

nam-gyu was many things, an addict, a partier, an idiot and a sweetheart. the sweetest ever, actually.

unfortunately for you you worked at club pentagon, which is how you met the physical embodiment of an acid trip.

who he was when he was sober was something you cherished and kept close to your heart. it wasn’t hard to weave your way into his rotten lungs, but soon enough you became his air, his new high.

after learning you never did substances, he switched positions at the club and asked you to get a safer job, not wanting you to inevitably cave to the horrible things that he tries.

you scold him of course, reprimand him and argue about hating how he acted when under the influence. for a while he managed to stop, wanting something serious and stable.

but then he met thanos, he came home obnoxiously intoxicated. nam-gyu was so star struck that he saw a famous rapper that he didn’t understand why you locked him out of the room, until he woke up the next morning with a headache he only got when he was on drugs.

apologies spewed out of his mouth, wishing for a second chance. his wish was granted, he found another outlet for “extra money” and promised you both a fresh start.

until the extra money vanished off the face of the earth and now he was in incredible debt.

the few months of bliss now gone, thoughts of continuing such an unstable relationship this far into life didn’t seem like a good idea. the arguments were bad, mostly on your end as you couldn’t get him to stop begging and spilling empty promises,

“i’ll make the money back and i’ll work harder to make more for you, please baby i’m so sorry.” the sight of him on his knees and holding your legs would’ve been kind of sweet if this wasn’t the millionth time he’s promised to be better.

to his disappointment, you walked out of his life that night, asking him to only find you when he grew up.

he was determined to make the money back, nam-gyu had no hesitation when calling the number on the card.

-

seeing thanos’ face on the big screen in the unfamiliar room brought a bitter taste in your mouth. you felt bad, seeing as he had the talent but like your ex he succumbed to the high instead.

your ex. that fucking moron. that piece of shit doesn’t even know you’re carrying his damn kid.

a week after you walked out of his life, you guys met up one time to exchange clothes and what not but one thing lead to another and here you were in hospital debt. finding a stable job was hard, especially when you worked as a bartender most of your adult life.

the stress was eating you alive, renting the nice place you had was not cheap and the nice landlord could only be nice for so long because you had to start paying more.

the past few months have been rough and you really wish you had the support of your ex even if he wasn’t the greatest, he was yours and that’s all that really mattered.

standing in line to sign the consent forms made you nauseous, afraid of what’s to come. as you’re walking back to your bed, you get stopped by a hand on your shoulder,

“yn?”

you feel your heartbeat quicken as you turn around and look at your ex boyfriend.

“why are you here?” his hand is still on your shoulder, slightly moving up and down your arm.

he always had a thing for keeping a hand on you, he said it grounded him.

“the same reason everyone is, debt.”

the expression on his face makes your chest ache, he looks so concerned that it makes you a wee bit mad, “what debt are you in? you’ve always been financially responsible!”

he was right, out of you two you made the smarter choices. it dawned on you that you had yet to tell him you’re pregnant with his kid.

“yn? what happened? did someone scam you? i know some people that could find them.” his tone deepening as he becomes more serious, “no! it’s not like that. it’s complicated..”

the worry in your voice makes his eyes fill with worry, “baby, you can tell me.” the name makes you push away from him but the distance is immediately gone as he closes it, pulling your hands into his own. you can’t look him in the eye, scared he’s going to be mad at you.

you’re going to keep it no matter what but the thought of him hating you and your kid makes your heart crack.

the swirled hormones make everything seem so much more intense, tears start to fill your eyes which makes his widen. his hands, ever so warm, hold your face and tilt it so you’re looking at him.

“what’s wrong, i’m here ba-“

“i’m pregnant, nam-gyu.” he pulls his hands off of your face like he was burned, an expression of hurt and anger swirls in his eyes,

“who’s the father?” you look at him like he’s stupid, which only makes him more upset. “why are you looking at me like that?”

does he seriously think i got with someone else?

nam-gyu is distraught, the thought of you no longer being in love with him makes him sick. the fact that you’re carrying someone else’s child makes any will to live disappear. suddenly he doesn’t care that he owes money to anyone, there’s no chance to get you back. “does he treat you well? are you happier?”

“i’m not seeing anyone new, nam-gyu.”

“you shouldn’t be playing games if you’re pregnant. you could hurt yourself or the baby.”

despite his own lack of rationality when making choices, he was always so careful with you.

you threw any rationality you had and spit out the truth,

“it’s yours.”

now he was looking at you like you were stupid, “what?”

“the baby. it’s yours. you’re the father. i’m carrying your child.” he blinks at you slowly, taking in the information you just dropped on him,

“it’s.. you’re carrying.. our baby?” nodding your head, you step forward and take his hand and guide it to your stomach.

“after we broke up, i started to feel sick so i took a test. i didn’t know what to do, i couldn’t find a good job near my place, moving is too expensive, i was afraid to reach out to you. i owe the hospital so much because i’m paying by month but i ran out of savings and then this guy came up to me and gave me a card to make money.”

by the end of your ramble, nam-gyu pulled you in for a tight hug, smoothing your back with his hand. softly, he coos into your hair, “i would’ve never denied you. had you called, we could’ve figured this shit out together.”

you argued back, “how was i supposed to know that? you promised me over and over again but nothing changed!”

despite missing the warmth, you again create a distance by pushing him away from you, although it’s no use given how he holds your arms but he still keeps the distance out of respect for you.

“i have changed! i’m here, i’m going to win that money and i’ll take care of you.” his eyes plead, the hands that hold you start to shake.

“you’ll win it? alone?” the logic hits him and he laughs at his own idiocy, “we’ll win, i’ll make sure we both get out of here. we can put the money together. it’ll be more than enough for us to start over!”

you’re skeptical, sure the chance of winning is there but.. is your trust in him still there?

“if we win-“

his hands move from your arms to your stomach, “when baby, when we win-“

your eyes roll at his optimism, “if and when we win, you need to quit drugs. cold turkey. no excuses, no more second chances. if you so much as look at a drug, i will kill you and raise this kid alone, do you understand me?”

he mocks a soldier, hand to his head and stance straight, “yes ma’am!” the pose barely lasts as he starts to giggle, following you to your bed while holding onto your hand.

there was more to come, you had a feeling that much money wouldn’t come so easy, but things felt just a tad easier with him.

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤