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winterarmyy · 11 months ago

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Steal Me Away

Glimpses of the grumpy chubby alpha!bucky's love life.

Summary: When Bucky was stuck in an unpleasant lunch with his co-workers; he thought about how nice it would be if someone comes and steals him away.

Navigation: Prequel || Main Story I || Main Story II || Main Story III

Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader

Words: 2.6k++

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics. no plot, just fluff. low-key body shamming, bullying, bucky and his omega being adorable. (tell me is there's anything else I missed)

P/S: Impulsive writing at 3am in the morning because I couldn't sleep, then left the draft to rot for weeks, now posted. Also tagging @serendipitouslife90 because she's the biggest fan of this au. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short fic and happy reading! 🤍

Read my other works here: Masterlist

The morning sun filtered through the blinds of Bucky’s cubicle, casting narrow strips of light across his cluttered desk. The office was its usual sanctuary of muted tones and hushed conversations. Colleagues navigated the aisles like cautious explorers, their brief nods to Bucky barely concealing their unease.

He didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred it this way. Solitude was his comfort zone, and he relished the uninterrupted focus on his work.

Bucky tapped away at his keyboard, the rhythmic clacking serving as his meditation. His thoughts were like the lines of code he worked with; orderly, precise, and devoid of unnecessary embellishments. Socializing was a distraction he neither wanted nor needed.

The occasional murmurs of sympathy about his less-than-ideal body shape for an Alpha like him, or the prosthetic arm he wore to make up for his imperfection, had long since ceased to bother him. They were background noise in the symphony of his workday.

Two weeks had passed since Bucky had last seen y/n, their second date now a vivid but distant memory. Their time together had been cut short, both of them consumed by the relentless demands of their careers. Especially for Bucky, the high-pressure world of software engineering was unforgiving.

Ever since he was in school, he always had the knack for tech but as he grew up, his path lead away from it. Then after his abrupt release from military service, he was lost for a moment. He lost his position and quite literally his limb. After he was introduced to Stark Technologies for is prosthetic, his interest in tech bloomed once more.

Fast forward, he had transitioned to civilian life with a single-minded focus on his career. The transition from soldier to software engineer had been a challenging yet rewarding shift, one that demanded every ounce of his dedication.

His days were a blur of client meetings, coding marathons, and sleepless nights, leaving him barely enough time to recharge. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't escape the gnawing sense of guilt that tugged at him.

Y/n had been understanding, insisting that they could take things slow and that she was patient. Yet Bucky felt a pressing need to make up for the lost time, to show her that she was more important than the endless stream of work that consumed him.

His longing for her was a constant undercurrent in his daily routine, a reminder of the connection he cherished and the promises he hoped to fulfill, even amidst the chaos of his demanding schedule.

Lunchtime arrived with an uncharacteristic intrusion; Brock’s insistent presence. Bucky had settled into his usual corner of the break room, anticipating a quiet meal alone.

But Brock, with his usual smirk, plopped down across from him, completely unfazed by Bucky’s visible discomfort.

“You know, Bucky,” he started, his tone laced with false camaraderie, ��maybe you should join us for lunch this time. Walk off that fat in your belly, and maybe, just maybe, might help you lose a few pounds and get that soldier body of yours again.”

The comment triggered a ripple of reactions around the break room. A few colleagues, particularly those who fancied themselves as superior alpha, snickered behind their coffee cups, enjoying the moment at Bucky’s expense. The rest of the room fell into an awkward silence; some looked away, unable or unwilling to get involved, while others exchanged nervous glances, wary of crossing the line with either of the alpha males.

Bucky’s mind raced with a mix of frustration and contemplation. Brock’s taunts were nothing new, but the timing was particularly irritating. With his packed schedule and the constant pressure of meeting deadlines, Bucky had barely had a moment to breathe, let alone deal with petty office politics.

The jabs felt like an unnecessary complication in an already strained day. His thoughts were a whirlwind of frustration; he wondered why he always ended up the target of Brock’s remarks and whether it was a reflection of his own choices or just Brock’s way of asserting dominance.

The palpable tension in the room only added to his mounting irritation.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his irritation simmering beneath a thin veneer of politeness. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” He didn’t bother hiding the grumble in his voice. His work would have to wait, and so would his patience.

The café buzzed with conversation and clinking dishes, an atmosphere of forced cheerfulness that did little to mask the underlying tension. Bucky took his seat with a sigh, his mind already drifting to y/n, the image of her smile a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

Brock wasted no time in launching his passive-aggressive jabs, each comment about Bucky’s weight or his vibranium prosthetic arm more cutting than the last. Bucky could feel the rage bubbling up, but he forced himself to stay calm, focusing instead on the thought of y/n. The warm glow of her presence seemed to wrap around him, even in the midst of Brock’s taunts.

Brock leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “You know, Bucky, it's always something watching you eat alone. Maybe if you spent less time working and more time mingling; hit the gym with us after work or something. Who knows you might actually find yourself a date for once.”

The remark seemed casual, almost playful, but it carried a veiled sting. It wasn’t just about Bucky’s solitary lunchtime habits; it was a pointed jab at his single status, suggesting that his lack of romantic success might be due to his social ineptitude and undesirable body.

Bucky’s patience snapped. He leaned forward, his voice cold and controlled. “I don’t know, Brock. Honestly, it’s much better to be alone than to ‘mingle’ with someone who’s all bark and no bite.” He fearlessly maintained his cold gaze; eyes seemingly bore the words his lips never spoke. “…Like you”

Brock's face flushed a deep crimson, and his jaw tightened in a futile attempt to maintain composure. He muttered something about needing a smoke before hastily exiting the room, his pride stinging from the unexpected jab. The rest of the team sat in an uneasy silence, the tension almost tangible.

They watched as Bucky’s eyes bore into Brock’s retreating figure, cold and unyielding. There was something almost feral in his gaze, a silent promise of consequences that only someone with true authority and control could convey.

Everyone knew better than to provoke him further; Bucky's look was a chilling reminder that he played by his own rules.

Brock stepped out of the café, his frustration boiling over as he lit a cigarette. With each inhale of nicotine, he muttered darkly under his breath, cursing Bucky and grumbling about how that fat-ass loser like him had the audacity to undermine his clearly more superior alpha status.

His anger was a tempest, raging against the affront to his ego.

As he paced, his gaze drifted to the sidewalk next to the café, where a striking woman in a sundress was engrossed in her phone. The late afternoon sun highlighted the gentle curves of her figure, and her unblemished skin glowed softly, exposed at the back of her neck.

Brock’s eyes raked over her with a predatory appreciation, the male gaze undeniable in his scrutiny.

Her poised stance and soft demeanor hinted at an aura of femineity that intrigued him. A smirk curved his lips as he took another drag from his cigarette, already imagining how he might woo her, hoping that a little charm could be the distraction he needed from his bruised pride.

Back in the café, Bucky was still seated at the table, surrounded by the typical midday hustle, yet he remained ensconced in a bubble of tranquility. His attention was focused solely on his phone, where a soft, contented smile played on his lips. The noise of the café faded into the background as he read through y/n’s messages.

Each word from her was a thread that connected him to a part of his life that felt more real and meaningful than the relentless grind of his daily routine.

Y/n had inquired about his lunch, her questions laced with genuine curiosity. “How was your lunch?” “Was it any good?” “How’s your day been so far?” The inquiries seemed almost innocent, yet they carried a warmth that enveloped him.

And then, the message that tugged at his heartstrings: “I miss you.” It was as if her words had the power to reach through the screen and touch him directly, offering a solace that was hard to find amidst the chaos left from the prior event.

He missed her deeply.

The absence of her voice, the comfort of her presence. He wished that she could just steal him away; or perhaps he would be stealing her away?

Eitherway, he just wants to get out of here.

As he glanced at the time, noting that he still had about thirty minutes before he needed to return to the office, he made a quick decision. He would step outside for a moment, away from the unnecessary drama, and maybe give her a call.

The thought of hearing her voice, even if only for a brief conversation, was a beacon of light in his otherwise frenetic day. As Bucky stepped out of the café, his gaze remained fixed on his phone, where y/n’s last message glowed softly on the screen.

Unbeknownst to him, the scene unfolding just a few paces away was far less pleasant. Brock, still nursing his bruised ego from their earlier encounter by relentlessly flirting with the girl. “Come on, sweetheart, just one date.” Brock said, his voice low and laced with insincere flirtation.

He leaned in close, a smirk playing on his lips as his hand reached out, brushing against her exposed shoulder. Y/n recoiled slightly, her discomfort palpable. “I’m really not interested,” she said firmly, though her voice carried an undercurrent of unease. “and I have a boyfriend.”

Brock’s persistence only grew more insistent. “I doubt that. I can see you do not have his mark here,” he persisted, his hand lingering uncomfortably on her shoulder, close to where her mating mark supposed to reside. Despite her attempts to shrug off his advances, Brock didn’t relent. His touch was intrusive, and his words edged on harassment. And she can sense the scent of arousal coming from the alpha.

Y/n’s eyes darted around, seeking an escape from the unwanted attention. As her gaze fell behind Brock, she caught sight of a familiar figure; one that seemed to offer a lifeline amidst her distress.

“Bucky?” she called out, her voice tinged with both relief and surprise. The name escaped her lips before she could fully process the situation, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Bucky walking toward them.

Bucky knew that voice. It was a sound that resonated deep within him, as familiar as his own heartbeat. He lifted his eyes from his phone, and the world around him sharpened into focus. The scene before him was both infuriating and unmistakable: Brock, with his sleazy smirk and inappropriate proximity, stood uncomfortably close to Bucky's omega, his hand hovering dangerously near her exposed shoulder.

A surge of primal fury shot through Bucky, a blaze of anger that burned through his veins and coiled tight in his chest. His eyes blazed with a fierce intensity, a low, guttural growl forming in his throat as he prepared to confront the intruder. His body tensed, ready to pounce.

But before he could make a move, y/n was already in motion. She leaped into his arms with a mix of desperation and joy, catching Bucky off guard. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her, holding her securely against his chest.

Her arms clung tightly to his nape, her face burying itself into the crook of his neck as if seeking refuge; shamelessly scenting him. Her warm breath and soft sighs was a soothing cure to his simmering rage.

The anger that had been boiling inside him began to fizzle away, replaced by a profound sense of relief and love. The sound of her happy purrs, the feel of her soft body pressed against his, and her intoxicatingly sweet scent; all of it made his anger dissolve into a tender, protective affection.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, his arms tightening around her waist as he relished in the comforting closeness. “Hi, sugar.” he whispered, his voice thick with affection and relief.

Bucky's hold loosen as he leaned down, his gentle smile never faltering as he closed the distance between them. His eyes softened with affection, and he pressed his lips against y/n's in a kiss so tender it felt like a whisper. It was a soft, loving caress that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

But before he could pull back, y/n’s playful energy erupted. She cupped his cheeks in her delicate hands, pulling him down to her level with a sudden, joyful enthusiasm.

Her lips attacked his with a flurry of kisses; quick, warm, and full of exuberance. Each kiss left behind a trace of her strawberry-scented lipstick, creating a trail of smudged rosy color across his face. The marks dotted his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and even his lips, a vibrant testament to her affection.

Amused laughter bubbled up from Bucky, the sound a rare and delightful departure from his usual stoic demeanor. His eyes twinkled with genuine mirth, his grumpy alpha persona completely melted away in the face of y/n’s loving onslaught.

He reveled in the smothering of her kisses, his initial tension and anger forgotten. A satisfied rumble vibrates on his throat, across his chest. The contrast between his earlier anger and the unrestrained joy he now experienced was stark; the shift was almost palpable.

Lost in their own world, the two seemed oblivious to their surroundings. Their display of affection was unabashedly public, a stark contrast to the earlier tension. Y/n looked up at him with bright eyes, her voice filled with eager excitement as she asked if he still had time.

“I want to steal you away.” she said with a playful smile.

Bucky’s smile widened, his heart swelling with happiness. “Of course, sugar. Anything for you.” he replied, his voice tender and filled with genuine warmth.

But as Bucky’s gaze shifted away from y/n and landed on Brock, his soft features momentarily disappeared. His expression hardened, the warmth in his eyes turning to ice. The switch in his demeanor was chilling; an instant transformation from the tender lover to a menacing figure.

The coldness in his eyes was a silent, yet unmistakable warning. It was as though a dark storm cloud had settled over him, a clear signal that Brock's earlier arrogance had crossed an unforgivable line.

The intensity of Bucky’s stare spoke volumes, a silent promise of retribution and a reminder of the strength behind his calm exterior. The abrupt shift in his demeanor was a jarring contrast to the affection he had just displayed, sending a clear message to Brock that any further provocation would be met with unspeakable consequences.

As Bucky and y/n walked hand in hand away from the café, Brock stood there, fuming and humiliated. His attempt to belittle Bucky had backfired spectacularly.

Inside the café, Bucky’s colleagues had their jaws dropped. They were astonished not only by y/n’s ethereal beauty but also by the sight of Bucky, usually so composed and reserved, smiling so openly. They were completely stunned by the unexpected display of vulnerability and affection from the grumpy loner.

The couple continued down the street, their hands clasped together. The afternoon sun cast long shadows as they headed towards their next destination.

Bucky’s smile was genuine, a rare and precious sight as he looked down; memorizing the way her hand perfectly intertwined with his. At that moment, he couldn’t help but think how much he wished y/n would steal him away more often.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for staying to the end of the fic. Hope you enjoy reading it!

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #alpha!bucky x omega!reader #alpha!bucky x reader #alpha!bucky #and you're mine au #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic

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orxinus · 8 months ago

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EUCLYDIA RISES

Euclydia Rises is a Gravity Falls AU where Bill and Ford's roles are reversed due to important events in their pasts being altered. Bill is the "mortal" in Euclydia and Ford is the "god" that will enlighten him. Bill has his dimension while Ford has destroyed his accidentally.

Simple Bill and Megalomaniac or MM!Ford are nicknames given to differentiate them from other AUs. MM!Ford's destroyed dimension used to be coded Dimension /,64 (D-64 for short)

EUCLYDIA RISES WIKI - guide for everything

Prologue | Sketchbook of Bill | FAQ | EuRi Content | Euri Comics

Main navigation of content for the AU

Art | Doodles | Animations | Answered Asks | Text Posts

My works and tags in general

PATREON | KO-FI

You can become a lil orca or a spicy orca. lil orcas get exclusive art and WIPs and also early access to my comics, art, and animations. spicy orcas gets what lil orcas get + NSFW exclusive content! everyone also gets added to my discord server. lots of fun there! Philippine economy is shit so anything helps :D

COMMISSIONS

currently closed!

CARRD

i have basically every social media under the same username @orxinus

#euclydia rises

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scarluna · 6 months ago

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Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.

Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.

Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi

Link to the other chapters: ACT I / ACT II / ACT IV / ACT V / ACT VI / ACT VII / ACT VIII

Chapters: 3 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers

A/N: Let me know what you think of this chapter ;) Wink wonk.

ACT III.

The office buzzed with energy as the team gathered for an impromptu meeting. At this point, I had gotten used to the sudden meetings with absolutely no head start. Jungkook was not only controlling but impulsive as hell. No one knew what he was thinking, and for some, it was damn scary.

He stood at the head of the long conference table as me, Hoseok and Rya walked in. His expression sharp and focused over the scattered papers on the table. He wore a plain white button up shirt, dark grey jeans and his sleeves as usual were rolled up his sleeves showing off his tattoos. On one of his wrist there was an expensive Graff watch. Damn. Him and his expensiveness.

Next to him was Tina, practically glowing as she leaned just a little too close to him. Ever since I told her my piece of mind, she had been way too careful not to make it obvious because obviously people were whispering and spreading rumors. I guess she hasn't given up and had some hopes that she'd be noticed. As much as I despised her for how she treated me, I was feeling sorry for her at the same time. Her choice of clothing screamed attention too. Well, who was I to judge? I had no right to do that. Maybe someday the luck would be on her side, who knew?

“Listen up,” Jungkook began once everyone had taken their seats, his voice commanding the room. “MNT Media, one of our main competitors, is hosting a masquerade ball next Saturday. It’s more than just a social event—they’re using it as a chance to attract high-profile clients. Our goal is to ensure they don’t take our edge in the market.”

Tina raised her hand with a smug smile. “And how exactly are we supposed to ‘outshine’ them? Is there, like, a plan for that?”

Jungkook barely glanced her way. “Do your job, Tina. That’s the plan.”

The smirk I tried to suppress threatened to break through. Tina’s face faltered, but she quickly covered it with another fake smile, twirling a strand of her blonde hair around her slim pointer finger. Gosh, she was such a cheerleader.

The room hummed with murmurs of curiosity.

“What does this mean for us?” Rya asked from her seat, her brows knit together. I took a glance at her. Unlike Tina, Rya was not showing her "admiration" too obviously and besides, she was way too mature and work-oriented to choose a good session of sex with her boss. I admired her for that.

Jungkook gestured to a slide on the projector, outlining a strategic approach. “It means we’ll attend the ball. Every single one of you is expected to be there.We’re not going to outright sabotage, but we will make sure our clients and prospects see us as the better option. Keep it subtle—this isn’t a smear campaign. It’s about relationships and presence.”And yes,” Jungkook added, his gaze cutting through the room like a knife, “graphic designers too.” His voice held a sharp edge of authority, daring anyone to challenge him.

I blinked, caught off guard by the specificity of his statement. “Graphic designers too? I thought only management should be present there,” I murmured, trying to keep my tone casual. I had never been to a ball. A masquerade ball for that matter.

He turned his head sharply to me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You think your job is just fonts and colors, don’t you?”

I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks as his eyes pinned me down, but I refused to back down. “Not exactly, but—”

“But nothing,” he interrupted smoothly, leaning against the table, his tattoos flexing as his forearms rested on the edge. “Visuals sell. A well-designed presentation, a strategically placed logo, or even the subtleties in our event materials can make or break a client’s first impression. We need all hands on deck for this. Even,” he paused, locking eyes with me, “the ones who think they’re just here to doodle.”

The room shifted uncomfortably, a few stifled chuckles breaking the tension. I narrowed my eyes, but there was no mistaking the magnetic pull in the air between us. I hated how his cockiness somehow made my pulse race.

Hoseok, sensing the awkwardness, cleared his throat. “So... we’re all just attending or actively involved?”

“Actively,” Jungkook replied without missing a beat, his attention still on me. “You’ll each have tasks to ensure our brand presence is felt. It’s an opportunity to network, observe, and make sure MNT Media knows we’re not going anywhere.”

Just as I thought he might say something else to push me over the edge, he sighed dramatically, breaking the spell.

“Where the hell is Yoongi?” He raked a hand through his dark hair, his tone shifting to one of pure annoyance. “That idiot is late again.”

The room immediately relaxed but remained silent as everyone looked at each other. It was odd, since we were all caught up in that ball that we didn't notice Yoongi missing. Jungkook might have been a force to be reckoned with, but his annoyance with Yoongi being careless and late was an ongoing office joke.

“Probably got distracted by his latest overpriced gadget,” Hoseok quipped, earning a round of muffled laughs.

Jungkook let out a low groan, shaking his head like he was carrying the weight of the world—and Yoongi’s constant stumbles at work—on his shoulders. “If he weren’t my best friend, I’d have fired him five times by now.”

The mention of Yoongi and the Boss brought a flicker of thought to my mind, one that I quickly buried. But it lingered, uninvited. The rumors about Yoongi being more than just another employee—they never truly left me. Supposedly, he was the son of a conglomerate empire, someone who didn’t have to work here but chose to for reasons no one could quite figure out.

Me? I wasn’t deluded enough to think it was because of me, even though the timing was uncanny. Yoongi had started here just a few days after I did, but the whispers always suggested something else. His arrival was tied to some long-forgotten scandal, one no one had the full details on, and I had long given up trying to separate fact from fiction.

Still, the idea that Yoongi might be playing a role that went far deeper than just my “supervisor” always made me a little uneasy. Not that he ever actually supervised me. His attitude made sure of that.

“Yoongi always shows up just in time to avoid the worst of your wrath.” Tina spoke out in a sweet voice. I almost gagged.

“Lucky for him,” Jungkook muttered, leaning against the table with a long, deep sigh.

His broad shoulders slumped slightly, a rare crack in his polished, sharp-edged demeanor. For a moment, he looked... defeated. Vulnerable. It was enough to stir something deep in my chest, something I wasn’t ready to admit aloud.

But the moment passed quickly. Jungkook straightened, his sharp gaze slicing through the room once again, as if daring Yoongi to make him wait a second longer.

As the meeting finally wrapped up, my mind drifted to a new problem. A masquerade ball meant dressing up. And dressing up meant facing my wardrobe—or lack of one. How was I supposed to show up when all I owned were dark jeans, oversized t-shirts, some cardigans and that was it. Most of my clothes were black too.

After everyone returned to their desks, I cornered Rya and Hoseok by the water cooler.

“So,” I began hesitantly, “about this masquerade ball…”

Rya instantly perked up, her excitement palpable. “Isn’t it exciting? An actual masquerade ball! It’s like something out of a movie!”

“Yeah, except I have nothing to wear,” I admitted, biting my lip. “I don’t even know where to start. The last time I dressed up for anything was... well, never.”

Hoseok grinned, his easy charm shining through. “Relax, Y/N. It’s not about having the most expensive dress. It’s about confidence.”

Rya nodded enthusiastically. “I can help you find something to wear. There are plenty of places to rent gowns, and I bet you’ll look amazing once we get you sorted.”

Their support made my chest feel lighter, though a small part of me still hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t want to embarrass myself. Or you.”

“Y/N,” Hoseok said firmly, placing a hand on my shoulder. He was taller than Rya and me, and if we didn't know him, we'd be intimidated as hell. He definitely had this cool aura and a resting bitch face people felt threatened by. He was smiling tho, like a sun that shined brightly. “You’re not embarrassing anyone. Especially not us. You’re going to show up, have fun, and remind people why you’re a badass.”

I managed a small smile. “Thanks, guys. I mean it.”

As we headed back to our desks, Tina’s shrill laughter cut through the air. She was perched on the edge of Jungkook’s desk, her hand resting just a little too close to his arm.

“Are you sure you don’t need a date for the ball?” she asked, batting her lashes at him.

I couldn’t resist the temptation to make a snarky comment. “Careful, Tina. You’re about one giggle away from falling off his desk.”

Her head snapped toward me, her eyes narrowing. “Stay out of it, Y/N. Didn't know fat people had opinions?”

“On the contrary,” I said, folding my arms as I leaned against my chair. “Watching you attempt to flirt is everyone’s business. But it's kinda amusing how pathetic you look. Keep it up, I will be rooting for you.” I gave her a bitter smile as she stared at me with a deep scowl on her face.

I noticed Jungkook’s lips twitch, but he quickly schooled his expression. “Enough, both of you. You are at a corporate setting.” he said, though his tone lacked any real bite.

“Oh, come on, Boss” I teased, unable to resist. “Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this little performance.”

His eyes met mine, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. “You should focus on your own preparations, Y/N,” he said smoothly. “Wouldn’t want you to show up unprepared.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” I shot back, ignoring the slight tremor in my voice. “I’ll be ready. The real question is whether you’ll survive Tina’s advances without filing a harassment complaint.”

I heard Rya and Hoseok chuckle by my side.

Jungkook shot a glare at both of my co-workers and they immediately got silent. I narrowed my eyes, arms crossed against my chest. "Y/N, if I hear one more word coming out of your mouth, I will expect your resignation letter on my desk." he spoke coldly at me. By his expression I could see that he was done with my feistiness. Oh, but I wasn't done. "If you think silencing me will solve the problem, you're underestimating me." I mumbled lowly as I stared at his eyes. He did the same and somehow I felt a tension raise in the air. Before I could continue, Rya tugged my arm toward the office, making our conversation to come to an end. Tina was staring at me in full blown surprise that I was talking to Jungkook like that. "Why don't you fire her?" I heard her ask. And then no answer from my Boss.

As I turned back to my desk, I couldn’t shake the way Jungkook’s eyes lingered on me, or the strange twist in my stomach that followed. This masquerade ball was shaping up to be more complicated than I’d anticipated.

"Girl," Rya whispered, "you are getting bolder and bolder. I fucking love that." she managed to whisper in my ear and that comment alone made me and Hoseok giggle.

The cafeteria was bustling with its usual noise—people chatting over their lunches, trays clattering as they moved through the line. The smell of fresh coffee mixed with the faint scent of freshly baked goods hit my nostrils, yet the familiar knot in my stomach twisting made all the apetite I had disappear. This time, it wasn’t because of my body or my insecurities. It was the looming threat of the masquerade ball.

I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but the thought of being surrounded by coworkers in an extravagant setting, feeling out of place in a sea of confident, stylish people... well, it didn’t sit well with me.

I sat with Hoseok, Rya, and a few others, trying to keep the conversation light. It was hard to focus on anything when I could already feel the weight of the ball hanging over me. I was always an anxious person and it took me months to get used to the pace of my work, despite the bullying.

“So, Hoseok,” Regina, one of the other graphic designers, piped up from across the table. She flipped her perfectly styled red hair over her shoulder, a flirty grin spreading across her face. “I was thinking… maybe you could be my date for the masquerade? You know, just the two of us. We’d make a great pair, don’t you think?”

My eyes flicked to Hoseok, and I saw him shift uncomfortably in his seat. He hesitated for a split second before speaking.

“I... I actually promised Rya I’d go with her,” he said quickly, a little too quickly, I noticed.

Regina’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, pretending to be completely unfazed. “Oh, really? Well, I guess that’s fine. Rya’s a great choice too.” She gave Rya a bright, fake smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Rya smiled back, but her expression was a bit surprised. “Oh, um, sure, yeah. Thanks for thinking of me, Hoseok.” She looked at him, and for a moment, there was a flicker of confusion in her eyes, but she said nothing more.

Regina’s attention had already moved on, her focus turning elsewhere, but I couldn’t help but notice how Hoseok’s gaze lingered on Rya for a second longer than usual. I wondered if there was something more there—something unspoken.

But before I could process the thought, my mind wandered again. It had only been a few days since I’d overheard that conversation between Jungkook and Yoongi, and I couldn’t shake the way Jungkook’s words had echoed in my mind. The teasing. The lingering tension.

I pulled my thoughts back to the conversation at hand, though I could barely focus.

Regina, in her usual confident manner, turned to the group with a loud dramatic sigh as she took a sip from her pepsi cola.

“You know,” she began, her voice dripping with fake innocence, “it’s just so tragic when some people can’t even hope for a date. Like, what do you even do in that situation? Just... stay home and stuff yourself with food?”

Her gaze landed on me, lingering just long enough to make her target obvious. My chest tightened, but I kept my expression neutral. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“Not everyone’s obsessed with finding a date,” I shot back, forcing a calm tone I didn’t entirely feel. I mean, I lied, I was obsessed to find a date and also obsessed in looking good enough so people would take me seriously and not embarrass the company I worked for. Wasn't I pathetic too? Regina didn't have to know that.

Regina’s eyes widened in mock surprise, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Oh, of course! Why would you worry about that, right? It’s not like anyone’s lining up to take you out. I mean,” she added, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “you’d probably have better luck on one of those makeover shows first. You know, before they film the big reveal.”

Her words hit like a slap, sharp and humiliating, but I refused to let her see it.

“You done?” I asked, standing abruptly. My chair scraped against the floor with an echoing screech, silencing the room for a moment.

Regina blinked at me, her smile faltering for a split second before returning even sharper. “Oh, sure, sure. Don’t let me keep you from... whatever it is you do.”

I walked away before she could twist the knife any further, my head held high despite the storm raging inside me.

My stomach churned at the underlying judgment. Of course, Regina thought I wasn’t worthy of a "real" date. She probably thought someone like me didn’t belong in that kind of environment to begin with.

Everyone seemed to have someone to go with. Hoseok had Rya. Regina had probably already found someone else from the other teams. And me? I’d be the one standing alone, a face in the crowd with no one to share the night with.

I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go to the ball at all. What would I even wear? How could I stand in a sea of perfectly put-together people when I didn’t even feel like I belonged in the same room as them?

My phone buzzed in my pocket, interrupting my thoughts. It was a text from Rya:

“Hey, don’t worry about anything. We’re going together. I’ll help you with the outfit too!”

Her message brought a small smile to my face, but the unease still lingered. I typed a quick response as I was walking down the empty long hallway of the offices.

“Thanks, Rya. I just… don’t know if I should go. I feel like I’ll be the odd one out.”

Her reply came almost immediately:

“Don’t even think that way! You’re going to have a blast, I promise. And we’re all going to be together, so who cares what anyone else thinks?”

I stared at the message, the reassurance in her words offering some comfort, but I still wasn’t convinced.

Still, I couldn’t let my fears stop me. I had to at least try. I wouldn’t let them see how insecure I was.

Lost in thought as I walked down the hallway, I didn’t notice someone coming around the corner until we collided. A sharp thud was followed by a cascade of papers and folders scattering to the ground. I stumbled back, startled, as the other person muttered a low curse.

“Watch where you’re going,” came a smooth, slightly annoyed voice.

Looking up, I realized it was Min Yoongi, arms now empty as he surveyed the mess with a raised eyebrow. He crouched down to gather the papers, his expression unreadable but somehow laced with that signature playful smugness he was known for. I noticed his brown locks of hair were a mess, it was almost as if he had just gotten up and rushed here. Well, probably after a call by Jungkook he had to rush here. He was late after all.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, immediately dropping to my knees to help collect the documents.

“You seem like you’ve got a lot on your mind,” he remarked casually, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye as he snatched up a folder near my hand. “Big plans? Or is brooding your thing now?”

I pressed my lips together, biting back a retort. His tone was teasing, but I couldn’t shake the lingering sting from Regina’s earlier comments.

“Just distracted,” I replied shortly, stacking the papers I’d gathered into a neat pile.

Yoongi’s lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Right. Distracted. Let me guess—you’re working on your master plan to snag a date for the ball? I am guessing you don't have one.” He leaned back on his heels, still crouched, and fixed me with a playful, knowing look.

I froze, his words cutting deeper than I expected, though his tone remained light.

When I didn’t respond, he tilted his head. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re not going. Everyone’s talking about it. Even Tina’s got her claws in Jungkook.” His gaze flicked over me, his smirk sharpening. “Or is it that no one’s brave enough to take you?”

The heat rushed to my face, but I forced myself to look him in the eye. “Not everyone’s obsessed with finding a date, Yoongi,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“True,” he replied with a shrug, standing up and brushing off his hands. “But it’s a shame, you know? All dressed up, standing by yourself in the corner. It’s a picture-perfect Cinderella moment, minus the Prince Charming.”

I glared up at him, my hands gripping the stack of papers a little too tightly. “Thanks for the advice,” I said flatly, shoving the papers into his chest as I stood up and headed down the hall without waiting for him to say anything else.

The hum of the office felt louder than usual as I sat at my desk, trying to get through the endless list of tasks I had to finish before the end of the day. The masquerade ball loomed over me, but today, something about the atmosphere felt different. Maybe it was because I couldn’t stop replaying the conversation with Rya and Hoseok in my head. Maybe it was because deep down, I still wasn’t sure I belonged in that world? But in that moment, the phone in my hand buzzed, pulling me out of my spiral.

I glanced at the screen: Tae <3

I smiled to myself, swiping on the screen and gluing the phone to my ear. "Hey, Tae," I greeted, my voice a little lighter than it had been all day. Hearing his voice always made all the tiredness, worry and anxiety disappear.

"Hey, Y/N! I was just thinking about you," Taehyung’s warm, melodic voice greeted me through the phone. It was a comfort, like a hug I couldn’t see. "How are you doing?"

"Surviving, as always. Work’s a nightmare right now, and now there’s this whole masquerade ball thing. Honestly, I’m kind of dreading it."

He chuckled softly on the other end. "Yeah, I heard. It’s all anyone’s talking about. Are you going?"

I hesitated, fiddling with a pen on my desk. "Yeah. But I’m not exactly excited about it. Everyone’s got their dates… I don’t know, it feels like I’ll just end up standing awkwardly in the corner all night."

"Y/N," Taehyung said, his voice warm and reassuring, "you could show up wearing a potato sack, and you’d still outshine everyone. Don’t let those kinds of thoughts ruin it for you."

I smiled, the genuine kindness in his words making me feel lighter. "Thanks, Tae. You’re always so good at making me feel better."

There was a pause, and then his tone shifted, becoming more serious. "Actually, that’s kind of why I called. I was wondering if… well, if you’d want to go with me to the ball. As my date."

His words made my heart skip a beat, and I blinked, trying to process what he’d just said. "You’re serious?"

"Of course I am," he said, laughing softly. "I think it could be fun. We’d stick together, and I’ll make sure you have a great time. No pressure, though."

Before I could respond, a shadow fell over my desk, and I looked up to see Jungkook standing there. His arms were crossed, and his expression was calm—too calm.

"Work call?" he asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

"No," I replied, keeping my tone even, though I could feel the tension radiating off him. "It’s personal."

"You’re busy, then," he said, his voice almost teasing but carrying a hint of something sharper. "Too bad—I was going to tell you there’s something urgent you need to handle. Guess it can wait."

I narrowed my eyes at him, my grip on the phone tightening. "If it’s so urgent, why don’t you handle it?"

Jungkook’s jaw tensed, but before he could respond, Taehyung’s voice came through the phone, loud enough for Jungkook to hear. "Y/N? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it’s fine," I said quickly, brushing off Jungkook’s attempt to derail the conversation. "Sorry about that. So, you were saying…?"

"I was asking if you’d go to the ball with me," Taehyung said again, his voice warm but clearer now.

Jungkook’s expression shifted, his jaw tightening as he took in Taehyung’s words. His gaze darted to my phone, then back to me, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"That sounds great, Tae," I said, my voice bright despite the tension. "I’d love to go with you."

Jungkook’s reaction was immediate—his shoulders stiffened, and his eyes darkened, though he forced a sharp, insincere smile. "Perfect," he said, his tone icy. "I’m sure you and your friend will have a great time."

Before I could respond, he turned on his heel and stormed off, his steps echoing down the hallway.

"Y/N?" Taehyung’s voice broke through the silence, pulling my attention back to the phone. "Are you sure everything’s okay?"

"Yeah," I said, though my heart was racing. "It’s nothing. I'll talk to you later."

As I ended the call, I couldn’t shake the feeling of Jungkook’s reaction lingering in the air, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. I was weirded out from the way he acted. Why was he so stingy for?

It was Friday afternoon, a two days after our meeting about that ball was held and the tension in the office seemed to be building, as if everyone was bracing themselves for the masquerade ball that was looming just days away. It was all anyone could talk about. Some of my coworkers were still obsessing over their outfits, while others were already talking about their plans.

I was organizing some documents at my desk, trying to stay focused despite the whirlwind of thoughts running through my mind about the masquerade ball. The idea of going felt daunting, especially when it seemed like everyone already had their perfect plans sorted out.

"Y/N," a low, familiar voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see Yoongi leaning casually against the edge of my desk, his signature smirk playing on his lips. I frowned. He did not approach me unless it was work related. I wondered what was it this time.

"Hey," I said, surprised yet skeptical of his approach. "What’s up?"

He shrugged, glancing down at the papers I was shuffling. "Not much. Just… figured I’d check in."

I arched an eyebrow. "Check in? What for?"

Yoongi’s smirk grew, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—hesitation? Nerves? It was so subtle I almost missed it. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his tone suddenly more casual. "You know, about the ball—"

"Y/N!" Rya’s voice rang out, cutting through Yoongi’s words like a sharp knife. I turned to see her bounding toward us, her excitement practically radiating off her.

Yoongi straightened, his smirk fading slightly as he stepped back, giving Rya room to invade the space.

"Hey, Rya," I said, trying not to sound annoyed at the interruption.

"I’ve been looking everywhere for you," Rya said, ignoring Yoongi entirely. "So, I had this amazing idea! We should totally go dress shopping together for the ball tomorrow. I know this great place, and we can make a whole day of it and then me, Hoseok and you can go out clubbing after? I am in a mood for some drinks!" Clubbing? Oh god. It has been what- years since I went there? Too much people, loud music and bodies bodies pressing against each other.

I glanced at Yoongi, who was watching the interaction with a blank expression, though his eyes betrayed his irritation.

"That sounds fun," I said, offering Rya a small smile. "I will think about the clubbing part tho."

Rya grinned, nodding her head, yet she finally noticed Yoongi standing there. "Oh, hey. Didn’t see you. What are you doing here?"

"Just talking to Y/N," he said, his tone clipped. "But I’ll let you two get back to your plans."

With that, he turned and walked away, his usual calm demeanor masking whatever frustration he might have felt.

I watched him leave, a strange pang of guilt tugging at me. Had he been about to ask something important?

"Isn’t it great?" Rya said, pulling me back into the moment. "We’ll find the perfect dress for you. You’re going to look amazing."

"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile, though my mind was still on Yoongi and the words he hadn’t gotten a chance to say.

The soft hum of the mall's ambient music barely registered as Rya and I made our way through the racks of dresses. The neon lights overhead cast a warm glow over everything, but my mind was far from the sparkly fabrics hanging in front of me. We’d been at it for what felt like hours, and I was still having trouble settling on anything that felt like me. The ball was a week away and I was a ball of anxiety.

"How about this one?" Rya asked, holding up a shimmering emerald green dress, the fabric catching the light. She seemed determined to find something that would make me stand out—something that would make me feel like I belonged.

I shook my head, glancing over the dress with a hesitant frown. "It’s pretty, but I don't know... I think it’s a bit too much." I sighed, tugging at my sleeve. "I'm just not sure I want to be noticed that much, you know?"

Rya raised an eyebrow, her fingers still gripping the hanger. "You're seriously telling me you're going to let some people in the office make you feel like you don't deserve to be seen?" She shook her head, pushing the dress aside. "No way. You deserve to wear something that makes you feel confident, strong and sexy."

I smiled weakly, appreciating her effort to boost me, but inside, I felt like I was just pretending. None of it mattered when the people at work—especially Jungkook and Yoongi—were still constantly tearing me down.

As I stared at the dresses in the store, Rya’s voice cut through the silence, a casual comment that made my head snap up.

“You know, I have noticed that the Boss and Yoongi act weird lately,” she said, her voice light but with a hint of something else—curiosity?

I turned to face her, my brow furrowing in confusion. "Weird? What do you mean?"

Rya set down a dress she had been holding, turning toward me with a knowing look. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen the way they’ve been acting around you. They’ve both tried to approach you, Y/N, and it seemed like they were going to invite you to the ball.”

I blinked, completely taken aback. "What? Yoongi and Jungkook? Invite me?" I laughed, the sound more disbelieving than amused. "That’s ridiculous. Why would they even do that?"

Rya’s expression didn’t falter, but there was a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “I don’t know, but it’s not like them. They’ve never been this... friendly with you before. And it’s not just me—other people have noticed it too. It’s like they’re genuinely interested in you.”

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. The thought of Yoongi and Jungkook—two people who had made a habit of mocking me—suddenly being “interested” in me was too much to process.

“No, Rya. I don’t buy it,” I said, shaking my head. "They’ve always treated me like crap. They’ve made fun of me for months, and now suddenly they want to take me to the ball? No way."

Rya didn’t seem convinced. “But why would they bother trying to invite you if they didn’t care at all? It doesn’t make sense. Maybe they’re actually—"

I cut her off, frustration creeping into my voice. "Rya, this isn’t about attraction. It’s probably some stupid game to them, a way to mess with me. They’re probably seeing who can get the ‘fat girl’ first and have a good laugh at my expense."

Rya looked at me seriously, like she wanted to argue, but she seemed to understand that I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. "I get it. I just wanted to point out that something feels different this time."

I let out a small, bitter laugh. "Yeah, well, if it is different, I don’t want to be part of it. They’ve always been cruel. That’s not going to change just because they want a date for the ball."

Rya sighed, clearly frustrated but still patient. “I understand, Y/N. I just want you to know that you’re worth more than their games, okay?” She gave me a reassuring smile. “I’m here for you. And this dress? It’s perfect for you.”

I took the dress she offered me, holding it against my body as I studied myself in the mirror.The royal blue dress shimmered softly under the light, its rich color catching my eye right away. The off-shoulder neckline framed my shoulders perfectly, while the fabric crossed gently over the bodice, and I knew that it was going to hug the shape of my body in just the right way. The sleeves were long and smooth, giving it an elegant feel, and the skirt flowed down from the waist, simple but beautiful as it brushed the floor. The material was soft and comfortable in my hands, with just enough weight to feel secure but not heavy. As I turned, the dress moved with me, flowing naturally and making me feel like I could wear it anywhere and still feel amazing. It wasn’t just a dress—it felt like it belonged to me.

Rya leaned against the doorframe, watching as I studied myself in the mirror. Her knowing smile made me feel both self-conscious and reassured. “You'd look incredible wearing it,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the haze of doubt clouding my mind. “You’d turn every head at the ball in that.”

I placed the dress down gently, avoiding her gaze. “I am not used to all the attention...”

She straightened, folding her arms as her tone shifted into something more persuasive. “Y/N, when are you going to stop letting their crap define what you do? You’ve always been better than that, and now? You’ve got the chance to show it.”

I sighed, running my hand over the fabric of the dress again. “It’s not that easy, Rya.”

“What is?” she shot back. “Look, if the ball feels too messy, fine. But tonight? Come out with me and Hoseok. No pressure, no expectations. Just a night to breathe, dance, and remind yourself that you’re allowed to take up space without caring what anyone else thinks.”

I hesitated, biting my lip as I looked at her. “I don’t know if I’m really in the mood for clubbing.”

She tilted her head, her smile turning sly. “Oh, please. We both know you need this. Hoseok’s got the energy of ten people, and he already said he’d buy the first round. Plus,” she added, leaning in conspiratorially, “you know you’ve been dying to see what he’s like on the dance floor.” Hoseok had mentioned that before he became a Social Media Specialist, he was owning a dance studio downtown and he was the best of them all. However, he had to shut the studio down due to lack of money. Which was unfortunate. Everyone deserved to follow their dreams.

I laughed despite myself. “Fine, maybe that’s true. But I don’t even know what I’d wear.”

Rya’s eyes lit up, sensing victory. “I’ll help you pick something out. Something killer. And trust me, when you’re out there, laughing with us, and feeling like the badass you are, you’ll be glad you said yes.”

I let out a long breath, shaking my head. “Okay, okay. I’ll come. But if Hoseok tries to drag me into one of his ridiculous dance battles, I’m blaming you.”

Her grin widened as she clapped her hands together. “Deal. Now after we chose a dress for you, let’s get you ready to turn some heads for tonight.”

The evening had settled in, and it was finally Saturday night—an evening I had been both anticipating and dreading. A few hours ago, Rya and I had spent what felt like an eternity picking out dresses. After much back-and-forth, I had found the perfect one: the royal blue dress that fit me like a glove. It shimmered softly under the light and made me feel like I was someone else—someone confident and powerful. It was a far cry from the usual clothes I’d wear, but something about it felt right and elegant.

I’d also grabbed a few other things for tonight—something a bit more casual for the club, but still fitting the vibe. Rya had promised me a good time, and I figured I might as well go with it. I hadn’t really done anything fun for myself in a long time, and the club seemed like the perfect way to break out of the monotony.

Sitting in my apartment now, I relaxed into the couch with Hades curled up beside me. I had a few hours before Rya and Hoseok would pick me up—around eleven—but the anticipation of what the night might bring was already starting to settle in my stomach. The drinks were free, the entrance was covered until midnight, and they were headed to one of the most famous clubs called "Devil's Dreads", known for its great music and even better drinks. Hoseok had practically been vibrating with excitement as soon as he heard that I was coming clubbing with him and Rya tonight, and it was hard not to get caught up in his energy.

I was just about to reach for my phone when it buzzed on the coffee table. The caller ID showed “Mom & Dad” and I smiled despite myself. I hadn’t spoken to them in a few days, and I figured it was the right time to check in.

“Hey, Mom! Hey, Dad!” I answered, sitting up and adjusting my position on the couch. Hades stirred but didn’t get up, just snuggling closer to my side.

“Y/N, my love! How are you?” my mom’s familiar voice came through the phone, warm and comforting. “You’ve been so busy lately. Have you been eating enough?”

I laughed softly, rolling my eyes. “I’m fine, Mom. Don’t worry. Just work, you know? It’s been a little hectic.”

“You always say that,” my dad’s voice chimed in, his deep tone carrying an affectionate teasing. “Tell us something fun. What’s been going on with you?”

I smiled, glancing around my small apartment. “Well, actually, there’s a company masquerade a week from now. It’s for work. We’ve been working on a big project, and uh Taehyung called me and invited me to be his date since he is going as well.”

There was a noticeable pause on the other end, followed by the sound of my mom speaking quietly with my dad in their native language.

My dad’s voice came as an answer a few moments later, a little more serious now. “Y/N, we’ve known Taehyung since you were little. He’s a good man. And we’ve seen how much he cares for you.”

The weight of his words hit me unexpectedly. “I—Dad, I don’t think…” I trailed off, not knowing how to respond. I had never thought about Taehyung in that way. He was just my friend, someone who had been there for me when no one else was.

My mom’s voice softened, a tone I knew well from years of gentle guidance. “Sweetheart, sometimes the person who cares for you most is the one who’s been there for you all along. Not the ones who just chase after you when you look good in a dress.”

I let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into the couch, unsure how to take their words. “Mom, I don’t know. I’m not ready for that kind of thing, especially not with Taehyung. We’ve been friends for so long. I don’t want to mess that up.”

There was a moment of silence, and I could almost picture my mom’s thoughtful expression. “We’re not trying to push you, darling. We just want you to be happy. But don’t close yourself off to the possibility just because you’re scared of what might happen.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a lump in my throat. “I’ll think about it,” I said quietly. “But for now, I’m just focused on work.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” my dad said, his voice reassuring as always. “Just remember to enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

“I’ll talk to you both soon, okay?”

“Take care of yourself, Y/N,” my mom said. “And have fun at the ball. We’ll be waiting to hear all about it!”

“I love you guys, bye.” I said, hanging up the phone, feeling a mix of warmth and confusion. The conversation had been more than I expected, and now I couldn’t stop thinking about what they had said.

As I sat there in the quiet of my apartment, Hades curled up beside me once again, I found myself lost in thought. Taehyung? Could he really have feelings for me? I’d always seen him as a friend, but my parents seemed so sure. It felt like the idea came out of nowhere, and yet... maybe there was something to it.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I didn’t know if I was ready to confront that possibility, but for tonight, I had a night out with Rya and Hoseok to look forward to. Maybe I just needed to focus on that for now—enjoy myself, let loose, and stop overthinking everything.

Rya and Hoseok were picking me up in just a few hours. The drinks were free, the club was waiting, and I wasn’t going to let any of my doubts ruin the night. For once, I was going to let go and enjoy the ride.

It had been ages since I’d stepped foot into a club. The pulsating bass, the kaleidoscope of lights, the hum of people enjoying the night—it all felt foreign yet oddly thrilling. Devil’s Dreads was a sight to behold, unlike any club I’d ever been to. The VIP section on the second floor, where we were seated, offered the perfect balance of exclusivity and immersion. From here, we had a clear view of the stage bathed in fiery orange and violet hues, with sleek, futuristic lighting patterns that pulsed in time with the music. The plush, deep purple couches I sank into were ridiculously comfortable, making it feel less like a club and more like some hidden lounge in a sci-fi movie.

Looking down at the main floor, I could see the crowd moving like waves to the hypnotic beats. But up here, it was quiet enough to hold a conversation without shouting, which was a luxury I didn’t know I needed until now.

Rya was the first to order. She went all out with something bold—a sparkling martini topped with edible glitter. It matched her red short dress perfectly, shimmering under the soft light like it was made just for her. I laughed when she held it up for a dramatic toast, the red matching sequins of her dress making her look like she belonged on the stage herself. Her dirty blonde hair was curled just perfectly, lifted in a messy bun style — Pamela Anderson. And her make up did not disappoint, dark, smoky and sexy, fitting her dark blue eyes perfectly.

Hoseok, being Hoseok, opted for a vodka on ice and an old-fashioned style of outfit. It was simple, strong, and sophisticated, just like him. His black button-down shirt with those subtle gold accents caught the light in just the right way, making him look like he belonged in a magazine ad for luxury watches or cologne. He wore black ripped jeans and his hair was messily styled. He looked like an model.

And then there was me. I scanned the menu nervously, feeling the weight of their expectations. It had been so long since I’d ordered a drink at a club, I wasn’t sure what I wanted. My eyes landed on something fruity and innocent-sounding—a cocktail called Strawberry Dream. The description promised a blend of strawberries, peach, and a “whisper” of vodka. Perfect. I didn’t want to get hammered on the first drink.

But, boy, was it deceiving. Rya had managed to pick the perfect dress for me. Firstly, I never wore something so short, and secondly, I almost never was opting for dresses. Jeans were more comfortable for me, but in this case, I loved how this dress fitted me.

I felt bold and my dress definitely matched the vibe. The black mini-dress I chose hugged my curves perfectly, the structured bodice giving it a corset-like edge that made me feel powerful. The neckline was the real star, though—crisscross straps framing my shoulders and collarbones in a way that was sultry but still sophisticated. The long sleeves balanced the look, keeping it sleek and elegant, while the fabric clung just right, making me feel like the main character.

I paired it with gold hoop earrings for a touch of glam, a natural make up made by myself and my hair was curled in beautiful long curls that framed my features, which gave me this effortless, confident vibe. As I glanced at myself in the reflection of my drink, I couldn’t help but smile—I looked like I belonged in a place like this.

We didn’t waste much time lounging. Once our drinks arrived, the music pulled us in. Rya was already dragging me up to dance, and Hoseok followed close behind. It felt freeing to let go for a while, to sway to the music and laugh until my sides hurt. I sipped my cocktail in between songs, the sweetness of the drink making it go down far too easily. Before I knew it, I was on my third glass, and the room was beginning to tilt—not in a bad way, but in that warm, buzzy, I’m-gonna-regret-this-tomorrow way. -

The music was pounding through my body, the bass so heavy it felt like it was syncing with my heartbeat. Hoseok and Rya were right there with me, the three of us lost in the rhythm, moving to the beat like we didn’t have a care in the world. The alcohol buzzing through me made everything feel lighter, almost dreamlike. The edges of the room seemed to blur as I twirled under the neon lights, laughing at something Hoseok said, though I couldn’t hear a word over the music.

That’s when I felt it—a hand on my waist, warm and unfamiliar.

I turned, a little dazed, to find a man I didn’t recognize standing close. Too close. His smile was charming enough, but the way his hand lingered made my stomach twist uncomfortably. Still, the cocktails had softened my edges, and my better judgment was slow to catch up. He leaned in, his lips moving as he said something I couldn’t hear over the music. Before I knew it, I was swaying with him, letting him guide my movements.

It was harmless, right? Just a little dancing. At least, that’s what my tipsy brain told me as I let myself follow his lead. But then his hand moved lower, settling on my hip, and a quiet alarm bell rang in the back of my mind. I froze for a second, unsure what to do, but before I could even process the situation, Rya and Hoseok were already on it.

“Hey!” Rya’s voice was sharp, cutting through the music like a knife. She stepped forward, placing herself squarely between me and the guy. Her sequin-covered arm reached out, pushing his hand away from me with more force than I expected.

Hoseok wasn’t far behind, his easygoing smile replaced with something steely and firm. “She’s with us,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that made it clear he wasn’t asking. “Back off.”

The man raised his hands in mock surrender, a lazy smirk on his face. “Alright, alright,” he said, backing up, but his eyes lingered on me for a second too long before he disappeared into the crowd.

I blinked, feeling the haze of alcohol and adrenaline mix into a confusing swirl. “What just happened?” I muttered, my words slurring slightly.

Rya looped an arm around my shoulders, her expression softening as she guided me back toward our booth. “You were letting some random creep get a little too close,” she said gently but firmly.

“Yeah,” Hoseok added, his tone lighter now that the guy was gone. “You’re lucky you have us to keep an eye on you.”

I let out a weak laugh, grateful but also embarrassed. “I didn’t even realize…”

“It’s the cocktails,” Rya said knowingly, giving me a reassuring smile. “That’s why we’re here, though. To make sure you’re good.”

As we made our way back to the VIP booth, I could still feel the ghost of the guy’s hand on my waist, but it was fading now, replaced by a warm sense of gratitude. Rya and Hoseok weren’t just my friends—they were my safety net. And right now, I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

I leaned back against the balcony railing, catching my breath, when the familiar face in the crowd below stopped me cold. At first, I thought it was just my tipsy brain playing tricks on me. But no. It was him.

Yoongi.

My stomach did a weird flip as I watched him stride through the main entrance like he owned the place. His tailored black blazer and crisp shirt beneath screamed confidence, and his sharp gaze scanned the crowd with ease.

His eyes landed on me—on us—and widened slightly. I couldn’t tell if it was surprise or amusement that crossed his face first, but by the time he started walking toward our booth, his signature smirk had taken over.

“What brings you all here?” he asked casually as he reached us, his voice low enough to compete with the music but still clear. He looked between the three of us, his expression unreadable.

Hoseok, ever the social butterfly, clapped him on the shoulder. “What, are we not allowed to hang out at the best place in town?”

Yoongi raised a brow, clearly entertained. “You have good taste. But from the looks of it…” He motioned toward the now-empty cocktail glasses on our table. “...you’re drinking like tourists.”

I flushed under his gaze. “Excuse me,” I said, my words slightly slurred, “but I’ll have you know this drink was amazing.”

Yoongi’s lips twitched, and he leaned in just enough to make my breath hitch. “Amazing, huh? You might want to pace yourself. Those are just the appetizers.”

It was then that it hit me. The way he carried himself, the way the staff seemed to acknowledge him without a word, the way he spoke like he owned the place…

“Wait,” I blurted out, blinking through the haze of tipsiness. “Do you… own this place?”

The smirk deepened, and he straightened up, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Figured it out, did you?” He looked entirely too smug. “Welcome to Devil’s Dreads. My little slice of chaos.”

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vernonverse · 29 days ago

Text

📲 Bf!Seventeen being jealous of your female BSF and getting sulky | HYUNG LINE VER.

ⓘ paring. seventeen x f!reader. genre | tags. fake texts, reactions, oneshot, humor/comedy. warnings. suggestive content, sulky and jealous seventeen, random girl picture use. requested: yes/no.

ʚ A/N: This one’s also one of my oldest requests! I loved working on it, and I’m sorry it took me a while to finally bring it to life. I really hope it turned out just the way you imagined!

navigation | main masterlist | taglist | maknae line ver.

Every ask & comment gives me life 💗 If you’re enjoying it, don’t forget to reblog—helps so much and gets the fic out there!! Sharing is caring before you scroll!

💌 Tags: @bmo-bri, @chromequette, @lunaryoongie, @codeinebelle, @starlight-constellation, @ojuwme, @paradiseoflosers, @tinyelfperson, @dcrlingyou, @my-atiny-kookie-rkive, @theidontknowmehn, @haaruki, @bath1lda, @hoshstruck, @wubbz05, @jihoonsbbygirl, @smiileflower, @tastyluvr, @gyuguys, @nerdycheol, @christinewithluv, @jesauiin, @bookyeom, @najaeminluvbot, @ughokmyg, @raggedypansexual, @caratcak3, @ateez-atiny380, @meowchella, @jeonsfries, @whoisbaek15, @damnedangel98, @sumzysworld, @mingyuuulover, @vsopesoul, @andreethier, @sarabencze, @brishti007, @weepingsweep, @minhui896, @blaycke, @miyx-amour, @pl4netx1a, @ateez-atiny380.

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daydreamgoddess14 · 2 months ago

Text

💫 For Your Consideration - Act 4 - Part 1 💫

actor!Bucky x fem!actress!Reader (no use of y/n, l/n, reader is not described in any great detail. I save that for the gowns 💃)

Warnings: Hollywood AU, language, internet nasties, flirty!Bucky, a little power imbalance, age-gap (Bucky is around 40, actress reader is closer to 30 or younger if you prefer 🤭)... more to be added later.

Bucky Barnes, the suave and talented leading man of the 'Winter Soldier' movie series, finds himself on the red carpet circuit during awards season with his latest film 'The Howling Commandos'. But the season takes an unexpected turn when he crosses paths with a mesmerizing newcomer - the actress who has become the talk of Tinseltown with her captivating performance in her most recent film. Sparks fly as they navigate silly season in Hollywood, with a spotlight on their every move will their chemistry ignite a real life romance?

Yes guys, we've reached the bit where my chapters get a bit too long & I had to split the chapter 🤭 Because of the images, I tried to keep the word count to a manageable 6.3k.

If you've been reading this so far and commenting or reblogging, thank you so so much. Honestly, I'm having a blast working on this one, coming up with the ideas for media, the storyline itself... this one's a real treat for me so I'm so grateful you like it too! Feel free to come and talk to me about it, my inbox is always open 💕

Tagging: @winchestert101

< Prev Act | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Next Act >

DECEMBER 2025

You’d turned off notifications for everything except your dad.

Instagram. Twitter. TikTok. Even the group chat.

Every time you opened your phone, it was another headline. Another screenshot. Another “did you see this edit?”

You’d watched the interview back once, and only once, before burying your face in a pillow and groaning so loud the neighbors probably heard.

The chaos didn't seem to be dropping off at all.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like the attention. It was just…

You didn’t know what he thought.

And that uncertainty was deafening.

You were on your third cup of tea that day, curled in a hoodie that smelled faintly like your stage dressing room, when your phone buzzed.

You expected more noise. Another trending topic. Another edit.

What you didn’t expect... was him.

The only person other than your dad that you hadn't muted, because you had no reason to.

Because you had no reason to expect a message from him.

You stared at the message.

Then you stared some more.

What…?

You reread the message five more times.

There was no way he meant that for you.

There had to be someone else he'd meant to message instead.

Your stomach did a backflip, and not in a good way.

You almost didn’t reply. Almost just locked your phone and pretended it never happened.

But then your fingers moved faster than your fear.

…. did you mean to send me that?

You tossed your phone onto the bed like it was a grenade, and paced your flat.

This had to be a mistake. Right?

He’d seen the chaos, the memes, the speculation. He probably wanted to clarify something. Do damage control. Set boundaries.

Tell the world to fuck off…

Another buzz.

It was real.

Oh.

You sank onto the edge of the mattress.

He wasn’t doing damage control.

He was asking you to get coffee.

Your hands trembled as you typed back.

And then you dropped it in the group chat.

You got there ten minutes early.

Which meant you’d already walked up and down the street twice, circling Borough Market like it was a reconnaissance mission and not a desperate attempt to look like you weren’t desperate.

The weather was grey and brisk, not fully committed to the depths of winter just yet, but definitely on board with the festive season.

You clutched your scarf like a lifeline, eyes flicking over every passing face. Tourists. Shoppers. Locals. No him.

You checked your phone.

Nothing.

It was fine. You were fine. If anything, this was a good thing. Gave you time to breathe. To remind yourself not to read into anything. It was just coffee. Just two people who’d done an interview and -

“Hey.”

“Oh, shit!” You jumped.

He was standing right in front of you, dressed like someone trying not to be recognized, hoodie, sunglasses, coat zipped high.

And yet now you were looking, it was unmistakably him.

“Oh my God. I didn’t even see you.”

He smiled, tugging down his hood slightly. “That’s the idea.”

You stared at him for a second too long before catching yourself. “Right. Incognito.”

“Stealthy,” he teased, eyes crinkling with that quietly smug charm.

God.

You were in trouble.

You fell into step beside him, the rhythm surprisingly easy, like you’d done this a hundred times before.

“So, you're in London,” you pointed out the obvious.

“I am, for a few days,” he nodded.

You glanced over at him. “Did you, uh… happen to notice the internet melting down after the interview aired?”

He huffed a laugh through his nose. “Kind of hard to miss when your friends won’t stop sending you edited fancams set to Taylor Swift.”

“Oh my god.” You buried your face in your hands. “I’ve seen those. There’s one where they slowed down the hug and put a Hozier track under it. It’s so embarrassing.”

He bumped your shoulder, grinning. “I liked that one. Got your good side.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I’m not trying to.”

There was a moment of silence, not awkward, charged, maybe as you stepped in front of him to move single file through a busy section.

Then he added, quietly from behind you, “Didn’t hate it, though. All the noise. Not if it gave me an excuse to talk to you again.”

You were glad he couldn't see your face.

“Do you want anything?” he asked, gesturing at the rows of stalls. “Pastries? Cheese? Some questionable fusion street food?”

You glanced around, grateful for something else to focus on besides the steady thrum of nerves in your chest. “Questionable? Some of the best food in the city is made here. And, yes, you should try these -” You spotted your favourite bakery stall and waved at the owner.

“Hey Jan, two of the cinnamon please,”

“You're back, love, how's it been going?” The older woman cooed.

“Busy, so busy,” you handed over a fiver and took the paper bag from her, passing it behind to Bucky.

He grinned. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

“If I don't see you before, Jan, have a lovely Christmas,” you beamed as she blew you a kiss and moved on to the next customer.

You paused at another stall selling fresh coffee, the scent practically illegal. He bought two, handed you one without asking, and continued walking like this was… normal. Like this was just how things went with you two.

“Still think you messaged the wrong person,” you mumbled around a bite, motioning vaguely with the pastry. “I read it at least five times before I believed it.”

Bucky shot you a look. “I meant to message you.”

“Sure you didn’t, like, panic and message the only person you know in London, or something?”

He laughed, and you felt the sound somewhere uncomfortably deep in your stomach. “Nope. Fully intentional. Which… might’ve been dumb.”

You looked up at him. “Why dumb?”

He hesitated just long enough for your heart to stutter.

“Because now I want to keep messaging you,” he said simply.

And just like that, Borough Market disappeared for a second.

You were halfway through your cinnamon bun when Bucky veered off course without a word, slipping away to help a flustered dad carry a buggy up the steps by Southwark Cathedral.

You watched him rejoin you, brushing his hands off as if helping strangers mid-date was standard practice.

“You’re really on the charm offensive, huh?”

He glanced at you, brow raised. “It working?”

You gave a little shrug, smiling despite yourself. “Maybe.”

“Guess I’ll keep it up, then.”

There was a moment, easy and warm, and then you added, “you do realise you’re setting the bar pretty high for any future coffee dates, right?”

He grinned, his eyes flicking to yours.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not planning on sharing my pastries with anyone else.” He leaned in just slightly, voice warm. “Besides, I’ve got to earn a second coffee somehow.”

He gave you a look, playful, but lingering just long enough to make your breath catch.

Just then, a loud group of tourists rounded the corner, jostling through the narrow walkway between stalls. Without thinking, Bucky reached for your elbow, guiding you in closer as the crowd passed.

Your shoulder brushed his chest, his hand warm and steady against your arm. You could smell cinnamon and the faintest trace of his cologne, something subtle, expensive.

You were suddenly very aware of how close you were standing.

And how much you didn’t mind.

Bucky nudged your shoulder lightly with his. “You’ve gone quiet on me. That cinnamon bun wasn’t that good.”

You gave a half-laugh, still watching the crowd. “I was just thinking… in a few months, this will all be over.”

He frowned. “The awards stuff?”

You nodded. “The buzz. The interviews. The... whatever this is,” you said, gesturing vaguely at the space between you.

He frowned. “You think it all just… ends?”

“Of course it does,” you said with a small smile. “Eventually I’ll be back doing eight shows a week somewhere. Maybe I’ll get a West End run if I’m lucky. And someone might go ‘oh, isn’t she the one from that film?’ And then…” You shrugged. “They’ll forget.”

You took a step back and carried on walking, but he didn't join you immediately.

He was quiet for a minute too long, until you turned and found his eyes fixed on you, serious, searching, still frowning.

“You really think that’s how this goes?”

You smiled again, soft this time, and shrugged, “how many actors have been to the Oscars and then disappeared?”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t say anything. Just fell into step beside you again, quiet for a stretch as your words hung between you like fog. You wondered if he was trying to think of something reassuring to say. Something practical. But when he finally did speak, his voice was low and thoughtful.

“I don’t think I could forget you if I tried.”

You turned your head, surprised, a flutter kicking up in your chest.

He gave a small, lopsided smile, gaze forward again like he hadn’t just shifted something huge between you.

Your cheeks flushed despite the chill in the air. He glanced down at you, a spark of something warm flickering in his eyes.

The crowd thickened again ahead, breaking the moment.

You found a quieter nook between stalls, the hum of the crowd dimmed just enough to breathe.

You lingered there for a minute, the sounds of the market washing around you, muffled and distant.

He didn’t say anything more, but the silence between you wasn’t awkward, it was waiting.

Eventually, you tipped your head toward a nearby stall. “C’mon,” you said, voice low. “Let me get you something more festive than a coffee.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Trying to butter me up with wine now?”

You smiled. “Trying to stop you looking at me like that without a drink in my hand.”

He let that one slide with a smirk, following you without protest.

You left him to find a spare table amongst the Christmas shoppers and on your return, handed him a steaming cup of mulled wine. He accepted it with a quiet thanks, his fingers brushing yours, warm and steady.

“Do you always go this incognito?” you asked, watching the way he scanned the crowd even now, like he was still half on alert.

“Old habit,” he said. “Too many premieres and press lines. It sticks.”

You nodded, sipping slowly. “You don’t like it much, do you?”

He glanced at you, eyes thoughtful. “The work, I love. The rest of it? Not really built for that part.”

“You seem like you handle it fine.”

“That’s the trick,” he said, mouth curving slightly. “If you do it just well enough, they stop asking you to do more.” He shifted a little, his knees bumping yours under the table.

You tilted your head. “Is that the plan? Stay just under the radar?”

He gave a soft huff of laughter, looking down into his cup. “Something like that.”

A pause passed between you. Comfortable. Curious.

Tethered by something neither of you had quite named yet.

“You surprised me, you know,” you said, voice light, almost teasing.

That drew his eyes back to yours, sharp and curious. “Yeah?”

You tapped your fingers against your mug of steaming wine, the nerves buzzing somewhere deep under your skin. "I figured after the interview chaos, I'd be the last person you'd want to see. I definitely didn't think you'd... reach out."

He chuckled, low and rough, and leaned in a little across the table. His knee bumped yours under the table again, lingering this time. "Guess you’re just worth the chaos."

That earned him a grin, which he answered with a wicked one of his own.

You ducked your head, pretending to focus on your drink, but you felt the heat of his stare, heavy and warm. When you dared to glance up, his gaze had flicked, just briefly, to your mouth.

Your breath caught, you swallowed nervously.

The hum of the market faded away for a second, like the two of you existed inside a bubble.

“You know the internet thinks you're some kind of recluse?” You said, hoping to buy yourself a second to avoid doing something reckless.

He smirked, slow and devastating. "Better not tell them about this, then."

“And you don't date…”

He didn’t answer right away.

“I’ve dated,” he said eventually. “Just... never liked sharing it with the world. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.”

You nodded, quiet for a moment.

“That makes sense,” you said softly. “The more people watching, the less of it you get to keep.”

He looked at you then, like he hadn’t expected you to get it, not really.

You finished the wine and took the mugs back to the counter. You walked a little slower after the stop off. Neither of you said as much, but you certainly didn't quite want the day to be done.

The crowd thinned as you neared the river, your footsteps falling in sync again, closer now. A few brushes of your shoulders. A stolen glance. Eventually, the shimmer of station lights came into view. It felt too soon.

At the edge of the station, the two of you hovered at the line between stay and go.

“I’m really glad you messaged,” you said, eyes on him now, not hiding it.

His lips curved, slow and deliberate. “I kept thinking about what I’d say if I did. It wasn’t my smoothest opener.”

You laughed, the sound softer this time. “No, but it worked.”

A breath passed between you, light but charged.

“I had fun,” you said honestly, your hand brushing his as you reached up to adjust your scarf.

He caught your gaze, lingering now. “Me too. I was hoping I would. But you sort of blew that expectation out of the water.”

Your heart tripped a little.

You stepped back a half-step. “Well. I guess… I’ll see you around?”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

The promise in his voice made you smile as he dipped his head, just a little, and turned into the crowd.

And somehow, despite the chaos of the last week… you felt lighter.

You didn’t know where this was going.

But you wanted to find out.

You watched him go, the crowd swallowing him up one careful step at a time.

Just as you turned to leave, a thought caught you, sudden, sharp.

“Oh, and good luck tomorrow!” you called after him, unsure if he heard it, but saying it anyway.

A second later, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Thanks, doll. You too.

And just like that, you were smiling all over again.

He should’ve known coffee wouldn’t be enough.

He’d told himself it was just a catch-up. Just a friendly hello. Just a way to say thanks for not making that interview awkward as hell and maybe a kudos for handling the following shitstorm like a pro.

But then she smiled at him like that. Laughed at his dryest jokes. Got flustered when he held eye contact too long. Teased him like they’d met more than just once.

And that was the moment he was screwed.

She’d tucked her scarf tighter against her neck, one hand balancing her takeaway cup, the other brushing his arm when they walked too close.

It wasn’t even deliberate.

That was what made it worse.

Or better.

He wasn’t sure yet.

Borough Market had been a blur, busy and loud, festive and chaotic, but she made it feel almost quiet. Like it was just the two of them weaving between the stalls.

She didn’t seem to mind the chaos.

Didn’t flinch at the attention.

Didn’t even seem to notice the camera phone or two he’d spotted. Or maybe she had, and just chose not to care. That was the part that stuck with him, she didn’t perform.

He’d expected the goodbye to be awkward. A vague see-you-around, maybe a polite nod.

But instead, she’d looked up at him like she didn’t want it to be over either.

And when she called out after him in the station, her voice clear and sure over the crowd, just to say good luck, he’d nearly turned back just to see her smile again.

And now here he was, back in his hotel room, coat still on, replaying every second like a damn teenager.

He’d been surprised when her message came through, he'd barely been in the room a minute.

He stared at it a second longer than he meant to, thumb hovering.

Then he replied.

Simple. Measured. Safer than I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you walked away.

Her teasing reply came quickly and he let her have the last word.

He set the phone down, stared at the ceiling.

He didn’t date. Didn’t do flirty message threads or smile at his screen like an idiot.

But there she was. Unbothered, funny, warm, and making him do all of those things.

He still wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing.

And for the first time in a long time… he didn’t mind.

Nominations were a thing other people got.

He never used to care about mornings like this, he never had any reason to. His movies occasionally showed up in stunt or FX categories. There were no expectations or disappointments.

But this morning?

He was watching his phone like a hawk.

The Critics Choice. The Globes.

Announced on the same day, and right as he needed to leave for the airport.

He watched the rain on the taxi window, forcing himself to stop waiting for it to ring.

It vibrated in his hand before the sound rang out.

“Sam?”

“Bro, you did it.”

He could hear it in Sam’s voice - that slightly stunned pride, like he’d been holding his breath for Bucky even if Bucky hadn’t asked him to.

“Globes and Critics. Best actor. Best film. Yelena’s up for Director at the Globes -"

“Not Critics?”

“Nah, man. That last spot went to the Cabaret director.”

“Shit.” He breathed, “holy shit.”

“I know,” Sam said, laughter threading through his words now. “It’s crazy. I’m proud of you, man. It’s all happening.”

Bucky felt something catch in his throat. “Thanks. I… yeah.” He exhaled. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Look, get your flight, get some rest. I’ll send you the links.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Congratulations, man. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Sam rang off and the phone sat idly in Bucky's lap.

It lit up with the links Sam had promised.

He opened the Golden Globes one first.

His name.

In a bolded list, alongside people he’d admired for years. Best Actor in a Drama.

His film. Best Picture.

Then he saw hers. Just underneath.

Best Actress in a Comedy or Musical.

His heart gave a weird, full sort of jolt.

He wasn’t surprised - she was so good, everyone had seen it, but seeing it there in print made something in him go still.

She deserved this.

She belonged here.

He was proud. Maybe a little awestruck.

And without thinking, he opened their messages.

Maybe it was the way her laugh still echoed in his head… That coffee date hadn’t just stuck with him, it had dug in.

The way she’d smiled up at him over her cup, that flutter of nerves she’d tried to hide, the way she’d lit up when he called her talented.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Or her.

Congratulations on the nomination, sweetheart. I told ya.

He waited maybe half a minute before locking his phone and tossing it on top of his bag like it didn’t matter. Like he wasn’t listening for it to buzz again.

It did. With messages from Yelena, from Joaquin… even a begrudging congratulations from John.

But her reply was the one he went to first.

A purple heart. He stared at it longer than he should’ve.

Then she sent a follow-up, bright and warm, something in his chest tightened. She made it easy. Too easy.

It wasn’t flirting. Not exactly. But it had that hum beneath it, the pull of something neither of them was saying outright.

And he could’ve stopped there. Could’ve left it polite.

He didn’t.

She was teasing him again by the third message. Playful. Open.

He’d tried to keep it cool.

But God, she made it hard.

And somewhere between their teasing and half-joking plans to grab coffee when they were back in the same city, he realised no amount of distance was going to save him.

Maybe she felt it too.

Or maybe he was imagining it.

Either way, he found himself typing out messages he didn’t send. Wondering if she was doing the same.

And then, it slowed.

Not because he wanted it to.

Not because she wasn’t still on his mind.

Just… life pulling at them both. Interviews, work calls, suit fittings. And maybe he wanted her to miss him a little too.

So after a few days, he felt it more than he meant to.

He'd become aware of the space she’d started to take up in his brain.

Of the way her name lit up his screen.

Of the way he kept checking, wondering which of them would be the first to crack.

It was always going to be him.

The next morning, before he could even finish his coffee, with the time difference closing in, he tapped the little camera icon beside her name.

What the hell was he doing?

The call rang. Once. Twice.

Then nothing.

Missed.

He cursed under his breath and ran a hand over his face. He never did shit like that. Never called people without warning. Never let nerves climb up his spine like this.

He fired off a quick dignity recovery message.

But then a new reply popped in.

Missed your call! I'm in LA getting glam for a press shoot, not quite decent rn. Hope everything’s okay x

He breathed out a laugh, shaking his head.

He was in deep.

Mid-morning in LA, you were sitting cross-legged in your hotel robe, trying not to overanalyze every single message in your inbox, when it came in:

Missed video call – Bucky Barnes

You froze. Your thumb hovered over the screen.

Then another buzz.

Didn’t mean to spook you. Just wanted to say hi.

You made a small, inhuman sound and flung the phone across the bed.

“Ok,” you called, your voice sounded too high, and strung out even to your own ears. “Ok what the hell am I meant to do with that?”

Lulu appeared in the doorway, makeup brush in hand, eyes immediately narrowing. “What did he do?”

“He FaceTimed me. And then messaged like it was normal.”

Dani’s voice came from behind her, mid-straightener pass. “Like, just now?”

“I mean, who does that? It’s illegal. That’s an illegal level of confidence.” You couldn't help sounding accusatory.

Lulu snatched up your phone from the bed. “Oh my god.”

“I haven’t replied,” you said, already spiraling. “Do I reply? Am I supposed to reply? Or is it weird if I reply too fast?”

Dani raised an eyebrow. “Babe, the man video called you. I think you’re allowed to text him back.”

Lulu handed your phone back with a snigger.

You tried to stay cool, fire off a super casual reply that didn't sound like you'd thought about nothing but him for the last few days.

“You know what you need?” Lulu said thoughtfully.

You groaned. “I swear to god, if you say a thirst trap I will disown you -”

“A classy thirst trap,” she corrected. “A little bit sexy, little flirty…”

In the background, Dani nodded sagely. “She's right. Robe shot. On the bed. Soft lighting. You’re welcome.”

“C'mon Dan, the fucking bed?”

She pointed at the bed next to the tray where your breakfast was still laid out.

“Bed, now.” She clicked the straighteners together menacingly.

You posted the photo five minutes later then threw your phone onto the bed and tried to pretend you weren’t watching it like a hawk.

It took him exactly three minutes.

You let out a gasp so dramatic that Dani nearly burned herself with the straighteners.

Lulu peeked over your shoulder and cackled. “Pack your bags babe, you’re done for.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Oh, I’m in so much trouble.”

You weren’t imagining it. The post had blown up.

By the time your glam was done, you had texts from your publicist, your brother, and your ex (weird), all asking some variation of: “What’s going on with you and Bucky Barnes?”

You did not have an answer.

The comments were worse.

You didn't reply, this internet storm was his own making and you had to get to work.

The shoot ran long, lighting delays, a wardrobe change, a stubborn clasp on the back of a couture gown that nearly had Becka in tears. By the time you got back to your hotel room, your feet were aching and your face hurt from smiling.

You dropped your bag, kicked off your shoes, and finally checked your phone again.

The notifications were still rolling in, but you didn't dare entertain them.

Instead, you opened his message thread.

You hovered for a second, thumbs ready.

“You just can’t help breaking the internet, can you?”

You stared at it for half a second too long before hitting send.

Then you put your phone on charge across the room and let yourself fall back against the duvet.

“Can’t believe you commented,” Bucky muttered, arms crossed, cap low over his eyes like he could hide from the consequences of his own actions.

Across the aisle, Sam didn't even look up from his phone. “Me? You openly declared you'd like to eat her for breakfast, my friend.”

Bucky scowled. “I did not -”

“You did. The internet’s melting down. I’m getting tagged in memes. Again.”

Bucky shifted in his seat, muttering something about it not meaning like that.

Sam just smirked. “Uh huh. Tell that to the girl blushing in her Instagram story right now.”

Bucky scrubbed a hand over his jaw, suddenly very interested in the in-flight safety card. “It wasn’t like that.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You threw a match in a comment on a thirst trap.”

“It was hardly a thirst trap.”

Sam gave him a look. “She posted it five minutes after your call. That’s tactical warfare, man. And you walked straight into the line of fire.”

Bucky leaned back, head thunking against the seat. “She looked good.”

Sam grinned, triumphant. “There it is.”

A second of quiet passed before Bucky muttered, “I’m in so much trouble.”

“You’re in so much trouble,” Sam agreed cheerfully. “But it’s the fun kind. You know, until it’s not.”

That earned a side-eye. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Hey,” Sam shrugged, “you brought this on yourself, pal. Just don’t catch feelings if you’re not ready to do something about it.”

From across the aisle, Natasha didn’t even look up from her iPad. “You video called her and then commented publicly. Do you want us to set up a billboard on Sunset?”

Bucky groaned. “Nat…”

“I’m just saying,” she said, flicking through looks for the pre-Globes party. “It’s a bold move for someone who allegedly doesn’t date.”

Sam leaned over, smirking. “Told him it was tactical warfare. She posted that robe shot five minutes after he called.”

Nat finally looked up. “She knew what she was doing.”

Bucky muttered something inaudible and tried to sink lower into his seat.

Sam grinned. “Oh, he’s cooked.”

Natasha hummed thoughtfully. “Good. He’s overdue.”

Bucky shot her a glare. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am. Which is why I’m making sure you don’t screw it up.” She tossed him a look over the top of her iPad. “You’re wearing the navy suit, by the way. No arguments.”

“I wasn’t gonna argue.”

“Good.”

The pre-Globes party was already buzzing when he arrived.

Flashbulbs sparked outside with a light that burned through his retinas and left an imprint on his brain. The braying crowd made him want to turn around and call it a night. But Nat had shoved him out of the car with a sharp “Chin up, soldier,” and there wasn’t much point in arguing with her. There never was.

Inside, it was all polished floors and too many famous faces in one room. Everyone dressed like they had something to prove. He tugged slightly at the collar of his navy suit, and ignored the way Sam grinned at him like he was waiting for something to happen.

Because he was. They both were.

His only saving grace was that there were no press invited, only a handful of official photographers.

He hadn’t seen her yet.

Not in person.

Not since the coffee.

And none of the photos he had seen had done her justice.

He was still scanning the crowd when Sam bumped his shoulder. “Don’t look now,” he said, low and gleeful, “but your breakfast just walked in.”

Bucky turned anyway.

And there she was.

Like all of his Christmases come at once.

She hadn’t seen him yet.

It gave him time to watch her. Take her in. The way she laughed with someone by the bar, hand fluttering to her collarbone. The way the soft fabric of her dress caught the light when she moved, like it had been made to be touched.

“Half the men in this room wish she was on their arm tonight,” Sam muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Bucky didn’t answer.

She'd moved to stand near the balcony doors, a flute of champagne in hand, laughing at something Steve Rogers murmured in her ear. Her dress caught the light every time she moved, like liquid. Steve leaned in closer. Easy, familiar, his palm resting just barely at her back.

Bucky’s jaw flexed.

She'd glanced around once or twice when she first arrived, scanning the room, with a little knit between her brows like she was looking for something. Or someone.

He hadn’t moved.

He wasn't sure his legs would actually work. Not when she looked like that - entirely unaware that she’d just knocked the air out of his lungs.

Natasha appeared at his side, swirling her drink. “You plan on lurking all night?”

He didn’t answer.

She followed his gaze. “Ah. Of course.”

“It’s not -” he started, then stopped. “He's her co-star.”

“And he’s not her type,” Nat assured him after watching them for a few seconds.

“Yeah?” He tried to sound casual.

She smirked. “Because you are, dumny. Watch, every few seconds she's looking around for someone.”

His breath caught.

Nat patted his chest twice. “Go get your girl, Barnes. Before Steve steals your thunder.”

He threw her a quick smile and took off confidently across the room.

He watched it hit her, the moment she spotted him. Surprise. A flicker of nerves. And then that soft smile. Lit from the inside.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she looked him up and down.

Bucky swallowed hard.

God, she was beautiful.

Steve greeted him with a grin and clapped him on the back. Bucky answered on autopilot, eyes barely leaving her.

“Good to see you, pal.”

“You too. You clean up alright.”

She looked at him over the rim of her glass, like she was trying not to stare. But he caught the flicker in her eyes, the dip of her gaze, the flush blooming just under her highlighter.

“Figured I had to bring my A-game,” he said, only half a joke, because it was true.

Her smile curled slow and knowing. “Well, consider the internet broken.”

He smirked. “It’s good to see you again too.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve cut in, clearly missing the current, “you guys did that Variety thing. That was fun.”

“Lots of fun,” she said, eyes still locked on Bucky.

Steve launched in without noticing. “You gonna do that new one with me? That 1940s piece? Thor Odinson’s signed on to direct.”

Bucky forced a chuckle. “I dunno, Rogers. I might try theatre. I hear that’s where the real talent is.”

“You could be onto something. Matt Murdock got the rights to that space opera thing for Wanda to direct on Broadway.”

“Starlord,” she said softly, not taking her eyes off Bucky.

“Yeah, that’s the one!”

Her glass was empty. She shifted her weight, just a little, but he noticed.

Time to move.

“Rogers, I’ll catch you later?”

Steve clapped his shoulder again. “Count on it. You’re not weaseling out of Odinson’s movie.”

Bucky turned to her. “I’ll walk you to the bar.”

She didn’t answer. Just smiled, and moved, and that was answer enough.

The crowd was loud, electric. But next to her, everything softened..

When they reached the bar, she turned toward him, and he leaned in, just enough to be close, not enough to cross the line.

“You look incredible.”

Her breath caught. Just for a second. But he felt it.

“I was hoping you’d be here,” she said, voice low, almost shy, but he noticed the tiniest movement of her eyes going to his mouth.

That hit harder than he was ready for.

“Yeah?” he murmured, eyes fixed on hers. “That’s a relief, sweetheart. Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

She didn’t look away. Didn’t laugh it off. Just looked up at him like she felt it too, like this thing between them wasn’t just in his head.

And in that moment, he knew.

He needed to kiss her.

He looked past her, just briefly, remembering the layout of the room, and then touched her wrist lightly.

“Come with me?” He murmured. Pleaded, just a little.

She looked confused, but did as he asked, following him to the outskirts of the room where he ducked into a corridor.

“Is everything OK?” She asked quietly.

“Yeah, I just… yeah.”

“Probably not a good idea, hiding like this?”

“I know,” he dragged a hand across his jaw and then stepped closer to her before he could doubt himself. “I don't do this,” he whispered.

“Don't you?” She breathed.

“No. Not like this. Not… where anyone could… I can’t think straight unless I’m looking at you.”

She looked up at him, her tongue darting across her lower lip.

He reached out and trailed its path with the pad of his thumb, his hand coming to rest in the crook of her neck.

He heard her sigh as she reached up to meet him, her small hands on his chest. He was cautious, not wanting to rush her, but wanting everything at once.

As he pressed his lips to hers, he heard a faint moan, unsure whether it came from him, or her.

She tasted like champagne and something sweeter, something he hadn’t had in… such a long time, but suddenly couldn’t get enough of.

Her fingers curled in his lapel, steadying herself, or maybe pulling him in closer. He deepened the kiss just slightly, but only when he felt her pull.

Her tongue tentatively swept against his and she whimpered.

When they finally broke apart, her forehead rested lightly against his. Neither of them moved.

“OK?” she whispered, like she was asking some unspoken question that only he knew the answer to.

He huffed a soft laugh, the kind that only came from total, stunned relief.

“Yeah,” he murmured, brushing his nose against hers. “OK.”

He wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. All he knew was that he needed to feel her, not just her hand on his chest, not just her whisper in his ear, he needed more. Needed her.

She stepped into him like she didn’t even notice she was doing it, like her body had made the decision before her mind caught up. His hand slid down her spine, anchoring her to him as their mouths found each other again, harder this time.

The kiss turned messier, more desperate.

His fingers gripped her hip, her nails scraped lightly across his chest and up to the nape of his neck. It wasn’t polite or careful, it was dangerously public but he couldn't bear to stop himself.

She gasped softly when his teeth grazed her bottom lip. He pulled back just enough to hear the sound, to see the dazed look in her eyes, then kissed her again.

It should’ve just been a kiss. Just one stolen moment in a hallway. But the way she kissed him back, like she’d missed it somehow, it undid him.

Her lips were swollen and her hands shook as she moved them from around his neck.

He didn’t step away.

For a second, neither of them said anything. The only sound was the muffled beat of music from the other room and their uneven breaths.

“Buck?”

Sam’s voice called out, somewhere down the corridor.

She tensed. He did too.

“Shit -, I look -”

“You look perfect,” he told her.

He took a reluctant step back, eyes flicking toward the doorway, then back to her.

“Later?” he asked, voice low. Hopeful.

She gave an uncertain nod, then she was gone, slipping back into the party like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just knocked the air out of his lungs and left him trying to disguise how tight his pants had gotten.

And he was left staring after her, heart hammering, wondering how the hell he was supposed to act normal now. Or ever again.

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matchaskiiess · 2 years ago

Text

TOLD YALL. CL16

in which charles leclerc and y/n y/l/n aren’t very good at hiding their relationship.

warnings: I don’t think there is any thing that needs a warning unless you get triggered by love or happiness.

AN — haven’t written in awhile, but hope you all enjoy this!

WHITE FERRARI (f1) NAVIGATION (main info centre)

────────────────────────────

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, danielriccardo and 123,911,919 others

yourusername your favourite best friends are together again! tagged: charlesleclerc

view 10.811 comments . . .

username ‘best friends’

username did the whole of the grid go karting with y/n, cause if so, I wanna know who won even thought it was probs max. ⤷ charlesleclerc it was actually y/n, she won every race and put all of us to shame.

danielricciardo I am winning the next game!! ⤷ yourusername keep dreaming.

username y’all ever gonna announce the relationship? ⤷ username at this rate I won’t be surprised if we only get told when they’re married have six kids. ⤷ yourusername um no.

charlesleclerc love the shirt, my helmet looks great on you. ⤷ yourusername it’s my helmet now. ⤷ charlesleclerc do I even get a say in this? ⤷ yourusername no.

────────────────────────────

─── “DO YOU THINK WE SHOULD JUST TELL THEM?” you asked, looking up from your phone to look at your boyfriend.

“let them suffer a little longer.” charles laughed, a smile on his face as he lifted his head off his phone.

“that’s mean, and they already know that we’re dating, they’re just waiting for us to confirm.” you told him, leaning your head against the sofa giving the man a soft smile.

“we’ll do it tomorrow, right now i want to finish watching rio.” he spoke with a promising voice making you smile more then before as you both played the film that you had been watching previously.

────────────────────────────

charlesleclerc made a story !

seen by 186,919,101 peoples

you replied to this story . . .

I love you

I love you too ❤️

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853 notes · View notes

itwasrealtome · 9 months ago

Text

THIN ICE

Olivia Benson x fem! reader

⚠️ DO NOT READ IF THIS MIGHT TRIGGER YOU

ANGST | Olivia Benson x fem! detective reader | Masterlist

Summary : Detective Y/N Y/L/N, part of Olivia Benson’s Special Victims Unit, faces a life-threatening situation during a suspect’s arrest, chasing this one into an ultimate falls to his death. Injured but alive, Y/N finds herself in an hospital room, receiving stern words from Olivia about her reckless actions.

A/N : Hello my loves. I'm finally sharing this first Olivia X reader with you. I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think. There are a few people I can't identify in the taglist, I'm sorry.

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•••

This afternoon, the streets seemed even more crowded than usual. The vehicles flooded the roads, coming from every corner and blocking the main way out.

Behind a queue of about ten of them, a police car came to a sudden halt. The alarm was on, and the blue and red flashing lights blinded anyone who looked in that direction.

But no one moved.

Not even the sound of a horn persuaded the citizens of New York to get out of the path.

Amanda’s grip on the wheel only tightened. She had never been able to understand the reason behind people’s insensitivity to this kind of thing. It was such an easy thing to understand. Besides, someone’s life often depended on it. Yet, there she was, turning furiously midway, her partner gasping in surprise, her shirt now stained with hot coffee.

— Dude, can’t you just warn before doing that kind of thing?

The blonde gave a brief glance to her passenger. She expected to find her glued to the door, her fingers clenched around the top handle, but she didn’t.

Y/N was desperately trying to absorb the contents of her cup on her worktop. The wipers provided with her order, finally finding their use.

While most people would have been annoyed about staining a piece of clothing, the young detective was not. She seemed much more upset about losing a few drops of her beverage. The former could still be replaced, but the latter was definitely needed.

— Sorry about your shirt.

— Yeah, well you owe me a coffee.

The driver’s smile only widened when she heard her partner muttering complaints. She knew her well enough to say that it had nothing to do with that slight accident. It was cute. Of course, it was. But Amanda could see through it. She knew it had nothing to do with the coffee. Sure, the days were long and their job involved finding stimulants to stay awake, but Y/N was never acting like that. Something was different. And who better to notice than someone who practically lived with her?

— Sure you’re okay?

— Rollins, it’s just a shirt. I think I can get over it.

Amanda gave her a knowing glance. She expected this kind of answer from the young officer. Everyone knew what kind of person she was.

Committed, she was always the first to arrive at the precinct and the last to leave. She was practically married to the job by now. And though Kat had trouble following orders, Y/N did not. She was the perfect partner. Amanda couldn’t remember a time when Y/N had lost control. But these days, everything seemed to fall apart.

It began with a couple of small comments, here and there, a bit too harsh coming from Y/N’s mouth. Next up, her silence during the team talk was a concerning factor for Amanda. If anyone always had something to add to the investigation, it was her. This ranged from a simple detail no one had noticed, to scientific or sociological facts. It was often complicated to keep the detective quiet, so her lack of involvement was bound to catch the eye. That and the fact the blonde had seen her leave the bunks two mornings in a row at the exact same time.

Sure, it was just the addition of minor details. But the older woman’s gut was not wrong, not about this. Something was wrong with her partner. And it had nothing to do with a simple lack of caffeine.

— Oh, don’t give me that kind of look.

— But you’re not telling me the truth, Y/N/N!

Y/N huffed quietly. At times in her life, she hated being around people whose job was to investigate. She cursed them all equally. She just couldn’t help herself the last few days. Her anger was aimed at a specific and unique person, but that person being in law enforcement themselves, it was almost overwhelming to go to work every day. Time seemed to run too slowly there. The only moments she enjoyed were those outside the building. The cold New York weather allowed her to clear her mind and take a deep breath. And she always had something to do, after all the city never slept.

—Like you don’t keep anything to yourself, huh?

Amanda faintly spluttered. Everyone knew she had had difficult times, but she wasn't the only one. And now that she was honest with herself, she knew she had made mistakes. One thing’s for sure, she did not want her partner to replicate these.

— I made some mistakes, most of them I don’t want you to repeat.

— I seriously doubt you did this one.

That was all she could get out of the young detective. Amanda knew it as she watched her turn toward the window. The mere reflection of her face gave her a glimpse of what she was really feeling inside, a sweet mixture of anger and bitterness. Whatever the problem was, it wasn't something they could fix with a drink. And this worried the blonde even more.

— Just promise me you won't do anything stupid.

These words captured the passenger's interest again. She arched an eyebrow at her partner, a smile forming at the corner of her lips. Knowing their duo’s dynamics, she had dozens of retorts on the tip of her tongue, all of them a little more mischievous than the last. Instead, she just shook her head gently. Amanda didn't have to know how upset she was about the whole thing. She didn’t deserve to worry so much. And Y/N certainly had no right to be such a burden to her partner.

— Like what? Jumping off a building? y/n chuckled at the blonde’s glare. Relax. I won’t do anything of that kind, I promise.

At that very moment, the young detective genuinely meant it. She had not gotten up with such an idea in mind. If jumping off a building was regarded as a very stupid gesture, she considered her routine more so.

It was in the way the precinct’s bunks were beginning to feel like home. And how she spent every second of her days with the badge on her waist. She had no idea when she had last stepped into her apartment for more than a shower. Her desk was overflowing with paperwork and books in which she always found a way to bury herself. It was much more than a way to distract herself. At all costs, she avoided raising her head, out of fear of meeting the gaze that froze her every time. The path she was on was, for that matter, significantly more dangerous than whatever stupid thing Amanda was thinking about.

But she could not say that to her.

To anyone, actually.

— Weren't we just called to make sure that this jerk wasn't prowling around the residence?

In any other context, Y/N would have felt like a fool. Her back nearly arched as she tried to make out what was going on in a street they weren't even close to yet. She may have lacked sleep and insight into her personal life, but her cop intuition never failed her.

— You'd be sure of that if you'd listened to a single word the captain said.

— Something’s wrong.

Amanda brought them to the next intersection before momentarily stopping the car. The sight over her partner’s shoulder sent a chill down her spine. Despite years of experience, she couldn’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline every time. The crowd of cops down the street certainly wasn’t helping. They were everywhere. Mostly hidden behind their vehicles. But their vests did not go unnoticed and neither did their weapons pointed at a specific target.

— Crap, I hate when you’re right about this stuff.

— Hum…what was that you were saying about our captain again? y/n faced her friend with a teasing smile on her face. She couldn’t help herself. Always listen to what sh–

The sudden acceleration of the vehicle silenced Y/N. She felt grateful once again that her belt was keeping her safe. No day went by without her being in some kind of danger, but she never thought she’d have to worry about dying while Amanda was behind the wheel.

— Would you please stop doing that? cried the younger detective, her hands still clutching the top handle. And since when do you drive so badly? Damn it.

— Guess now you’ll stop driving like a maniac if I let you get behind the wheel.

The door swung shut before she could react. She stepped out of the car herself and walked over to Amanda. A vest was tossed in her face before she could even think about opening her mouth. But anyone who thought she would have given up so easily was wrong.

— I do not drive like a maniac.

Her friend gave her a knowing look as she closed the trunk. Now was definitely not the time to have this kind of conversation, but Amanda was glad her partner hadn’t lost everything that made her the person she was.

She was relentless, both in her work and in her personal life. To be defeated by a suspect in an interrogation room was a rare occurrence. Within the profession, many officers wondered about her career choice. They could imagine her leaving the field to terrify judges in a courtroom. Perhaps because they were themselves scared to death to face her. Seeking victory in a debate with a woman like Y/N was a waste of time. She knew when she was wrong, and would always acknowledge it. Nevertheless, she also knew when she was right. And in those moments, Amanda was the first to grab a bag of popcorn.

— That you do.

The detective’s hands found the velcro on the vest from memory as she was too busy glowering at her friend. The protection weighed on her shoulders. It was almost enough to give her a reason to fall apart. That, and the weight of life that was beginning to take its toll on her.

Slightly defeated, she stomped over to Amanda to catch up with her. She knew the other detective was right. Her anger was evident in the way she drove. Since then, she was assigned the role of co-pilot. It was okay. But she loathed being deprived of her usual distraction. It was starting to loop in her mind. She needed a way out.

— Detective Rollins and Y/L/N, Special Victims Unit.

Amanda shoved her badge in the man’s direction, half-expecting him to tell her to piss off. He dominated the scene with his large stature and a rank evident to all. The rookies were following his orders and keeping their mouths shut. Something that obviously wouldn't work with Olivia Benson-trained agents. He didn't seem to mind, guiding the two detectives as close as possible to the scene. But then, the mere idea of having to send men into the building made him raise his chin in an authoritative, disapproving manner.

— Our only witness is trapped in this building, Rollins began the fight, finger pointing accusingly. I don't care how, I want that man in custody.

If one of them had looked up for even half a second, instead of fighting over who had the biggest –which was obviously Y/N in this situation– they might have been able to stop the young detective in her tracks. Amanda had had enough of listening to the man's whining as he waved his rank in her face. And her colleague, the one she was supposed to look after, was tired of simply waiting.

As discreet as a mouse in the middle of the city, Y/N circled the building and quickly found a fire escape. It wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind when the impulse to walk into the building first came to her, but she couldn't really say she'd given it much thought. With a bit of imagination, and a little help from a trash container, she managed to pull herself up to the top. Now, maybe that was the beginning of a crazy idea. She could already imagine her partner and captain scolding her - if, and only if, she managed to get out of there alive and intact.

At the top of the stairs leading to the third floor, the detective stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of their suspect's agitated voice.

Thomas Patterson, 45, suspected of having violently abused his wife before killing her, and of abusing his stepdaughter - Johanne Morales. The man's profile was clear: a respectful-looking husband and father-in-law, loved by all, carefree, but once the door was closed he turned into a control freak with urges he simply couldn't escape. He clearly hadn't planned to kill his wife. The autopsy had revealed signs of haste and mistakes that a man like Patterson would never have made if he had prepared properly. But he had made mistakes. His blows had been too violent, Johanne had interrupted him, and he'd had to finish the job quickly - too quickly, in order to hide his crime.

Y/N had studied his profile carefully. That's what she did best, that and avoiding her captain. She knew he was restless, nervous, ready to do anything to cover up his actions. The final piece of the puzzle was to eliminate the only witness, the one who would go all the way to court to see him take the fall. She had an advantage over him. She was there, so close to the goal, and he was unaware of her presence. At least, that was until Amanda's voice came through the radio.

— Y/L/N, you've got two seconds to get your butt over here.

The young detective could have banged her own head against the wall. Boy, had she been stupid on that one. She clenched her jaw, the urge to bite her fist growing cumbersome as she prayed Thomas hadn't heard. But he definitely did.

A front door opened slowly, the creaking hinges betraying the building’s condition. The man was probably armed, the sound of the guard echoing in the empty corridor. Each of his steps shook the wooden floor and sent a current of adrenalin through Y/N's veins. He was getting closer. She could smell him and his perfume. Him and her fear.

As soon as he was close enough to round the corner of the stairwell, the young detective took this as her cue. She charged at the man, her hands reaching for the 9mm held firmly in his rough, bleeding hands. In a split second, the magazine slid out and collapsed on the floor. She sent it tumbling down a few steps with her boot, before landing a knee into the suspect’s parts. This only confused him for the briefest moment. He was on her again before she could even flinch. Her body hit the wall with a heavy thud, the vest shielding her body from the heavy impact. However, the man’s hands found her neck and tightened their grip, pulling her head violently forward and then pushing it back, slamming it against the concrete wall.

He repeated the motion twice more, the detective’s pleas of pain provoking a feeling he himself could not begin to describe. Y/N wasn’t done with him yet. He clearly wanted to lash out at a woman and had a nasty habit of underestimating them all. Only, today wasn’t his lucky day. He was forced into the apartment where he had deliberately tied up the young Johanne. It was his turn to bang into something. The dresser barely tilted behind him, but the vase crashed hard against the top of his skull. He felt the water run down his face, the smell of freshly bought flowers wafting through the air.

Back in a corner, Johanne tried desperately to struggle out of her bonds, her words puffed out by the duct tape over her mouth. She could only witness the struggle between her back-up and her assailant. Watching as Y/N unloaded all her pent-up anger on the man who had dared to cause so much harm. In one smooth motion, Thomas grabbed the detective’s gun, a triumphant glint in his eyes. Hope was soon lost, his chances of getting out of there alive and free close to zero. His opponent was relentless and had no intention of letting him slip away. His only option, he realized, a flash of light reflecting off the window, was to drag the detective with him in his fall.

Outside, Amanda was still arguing with the man in charge of operations. He hadn’t given up and neither had she. Only when, as the argument continued to escalate, gunshots were heard, followed by the shattering of a window pane, did they come to an agreement. The plan didn’t even have time to take shape before two bodies flew out of the building.

First, the blonde saw the man she recognized as their suspect crash hard to the ground, the collision knocking him down instantly. Then came a tremendous thump and the shrill sound of a car alarm. Straight ahead of her, on one of the patrol cars, had landed Y/N. The height of the fall meant that the roof of the vehicle had been crushed and some of the windows smashed. That wasn't what Amanda was most worried about. Her partner, the one who'd promised her she wouldn't do anything stupid – like jumping off the third floor of a building, was sprawled motionless on the broken glass, blood on the back of her skull.

— Oh my God, Y/N, in one stride, she was as close as she could get to her friend. Call an ambulance. Now!

For once, the man made himself useful, radio in hand, as he asked for help. He now stood with one, maybe two, even three victims to deal with if the detective didn't make it. He could already imagine the damage it would do to his career. Besides, he knew Captain Benson very well and had no desire to mess with her.

Needless was his worry. The more Amanda studied her friend, the more she realized how lucky she’s been. Y/N was simply stunned, staring at the New York sky with an uncharacteristic intensity. She began to laugh, full-throated, heartily. It was probably the adrenaline pumping again. Tears joined the party, leaving funny marks on her bloody cheeks. Suddenly, she remembered.

— Johanne. She's alive. Up there. Y/N looked up at Amanda expectantly. She needs help.

***

Captain Olivia Benson had seen enough in her career not to let anxiety get the better of her. She had been beaten, kidnapped, almost died and dragged through the mud in front of an entire courtroom. She had reached a point where facing certain types of suspects no longer made her lose her footing.

But someone was bound to make her lose it.

Briskly, almost to the point of knocking herself off her feet, she made her way through the corridors of a hospital she knew all too well. The distinctive clatter of her heels against the floor blended perfectly with the incessant beeping and distant hubbub of such a place. She wasn't there to see a victim, as she often was. Her hasty and agitated demeanor only aroused the suspicions of the medical staff who had crossed paths with her so many times. It wasn't just a professional matter.

It hadn't been for a long time.

When Olivia reached room 212, she didn't spare a moment's hesitation. One of her youngest detectives and latest recruit was sitting wisely on the edge of the bed, her legs wriggling in the air like a child's. A nurse was visibly busy behind her, dropping more and more glass flakes into her tray as she went. She leaned against the doorframe, arms folded tightly against her chest, eyes focused on the sight that made her stomach hurt in spite of herself.

She watched as Y/N's chest, covered in dried blood, continued to pulsate with every breath, as hematomas were already starting to spread across her face and torso, and as her plain face twisted in pain as soon as the nurse reached for another piece of glass. Just a few days ago, her first instinct would have been to rush to her protégé’s side and calm the agony she knew to be growing in her heart. But she'd vowed to keep her distance and stay in her current position: Captain Benson, unit chief.

All too quickly for the young detective's liking, the nurse finished her treatment and left the two law enforcement agents behind. Olivia had had the decency to wait until the door was closed before lashing out at her, which didn't stop Y/N from rolling her eyes. She'd already imagined this conversation - or rather, monologue - and knew she wouldn't come out of it unscathed. She'd probably lose her badge. No matter, she'd already lost her heart.

— Have you completely lost your mind? You could’ve been killed.

This was the cue for a lengthy sermon that she couldn't escape. The words left Olivia's mouth at a speed that seemed unbearable. She paced back and forth, her arms stretching out in waves of frustration and indignation, her cheeks rosy with emotion. She'd done some stupid things herself when she was just a rookie, but throwing herself off the third floor of a building had never been on the list.

— Are you done? y/n arched an eyebrow as Olivia finally paused. I saved a life today. While Amanda and that jerk were fighting over who had the biggest, which apparently I did.

— No, you refused to follow orders. Not only did you put yourself in danger, you put everyone's lives in danger. Heaven help us again that you were wearing your vest, otherwise it could have been a lot worse.

— I don't know why you care so much, you're just my boss!

Although these words were intended to hurt Olivia, it was Y/N who took the brunt of the blow. It was one thing to know that their relationship had been reduced to this, but it was quite another to admit it in person. The brunette was no longer entitled to worry so much, to ask her to watch out and send her a text as soon as she got home. Whatever had been was no more.

— Right, Olivia broke into an almost scoffing snort. Let me tell you, as your captain, that you won't be leaving the precinct for a long time.

— You’re benching me? Liv, you can’t do this!

— What you did was completely irresponsible. You don't want to follow orders, fine. But you're not leaving this desk without my permission.

The young detective had been holding her breath for a long time– far too long. She'd spent days avoiding conflict, lamenting in her corner, mourning the end of a story she'd thought would last forever. It wasn't just about what had just happened, it was something else, something more personal. She felt as if Olivia had no idea how to express her concern, as if her only option was to play the role of the big bad boss. But she was tired of hiding, of running away, of avoiding confrontation.

— Breaking my heart wasn't enough for you, uh? She rose from the bed, hastily putting on her jacket. If you want me to leave the squad, just say so.

For the first time, she faced her head-on. Head held high, eyebrows furrowed in frustration, ready to stand on tiptoe if that would help reach the brunette's height. She faced those brown pearls with all the courage she had left, her own eyes misty with tears she'd never let flow. This was it, so close yet so far, two souls who knew each other becoming strangers once again.

Olivia reached out with a last ounce of regret, brushing away a tear that had escaped down the young detective's cheek with the tip of her thumb. Her heart urged her to do more, to embrace this bruised woman, to bring her all the comfort she needed. She wanted to take Y/N home, wrap her in one of her shirts, tell her how much she loved her. In another life, where they were just two soul mates, where Olivia didn't have to worry about repercussions, whatever they might be. This was where she could find comfort.

— Go home. Take a few days. Get some rest. We'll talk about it when you get back.

The New Yorker had rarely seen a face shattered in a matter of seconds. Her words had urged Y/N to free herself from her hold, her head heavy and spinning from all the hassle and concussion she'd picked up from the blows. Her shoulder nudged her superior's as she walked by, a gesture of no little importance. She did not look back once to meet her former lover's gaze again.

Maybe she should have.

Maybe she would have seen the same love, the same tears, that Olivia saw in her eyes.

Maybe the ice wasn't so thin after all.

•••

Taglist: @electricboost @womenlovingwomen-imagines @hi-1-1-blog @emskisworld @enjoytheentireworld @arie109 @marvelandotheruniverseslover-adhd @philocalistwrites @wittygutsy @observeowl @ravennewlyn @tina-2005 @makkaroni221 @ssaaggwwaa @youdontknowwhotfiamm @mmmmokdok @hbkpop @micaluvssoccer @idk-whats-wrong-with-me-blog @nciscmjunkie @moonlightjxuregui @thefatobsession @12fluffybunny12 @scarletwitcher97 @thesamesweetie @idonothingallday @clozeliz @realgirlbossqueenslay @l4yne @rain-mikaelson @fanfiction-24824 @sammi1642 @inquisitive-nix @namelesscheshire @slasherthrillss @marvelwomenrule @irishavengersassemble @marvelwomenrule

#olivia benson x reader #law and order svu #oneshot #angst #amanda rollins x reader #olivia benson

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pjsk-story-summaries · 1 year ago

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Want to know everything that's ever happened in Project Sekai but don't have time to read all those stories? Guess what! For the low, low price of "it seems fun", I'll be summarizing every single event!

Feel free to request any summaries or card stories you'd like to see summarized. You may also submit your own summaries, if you'd like! Use the forms found in this post to do so :)

You can also join our Discord, where we can collaborate on writing summaries and manage requests! (or just come say hi :) )

If you have a question about any of the stories as well, feel free to ask and I will do my best to answer!

If you'd like to use any of these summaries as part of a project (i.e. video essay, character analysis, etc.), you are more than welcome to! Just please credit this blog when you do so, since I do put a lot of work into each.

I do my best to get summaries out regularly, but I am a busy college student doing this in their free time, so please do be patient!

Masterpost links below the cut. All summaries will be tagged by unit, character appearances, and special type, if applicable.

THE ULTIMATE MASTERPOST SPREADSHEET

(Spreadsheet contains organized, filterable lists of all events and cards! I've tried making it as accessible as possible, but if you're unfamiliar with Google Sheets, just ask and I'll show you how to navigate it!)

Old Masterposts below! (Out of date, no longer maintained)

Key Stories

Leo/need

MORE! MORE! JUMP!

Vivid BAD SQUAD

Wonderlands x Showtime

Nightcord at 25:00

Mixed Events

Year 1 (Run! Sports Festival Committee Rush! - Scramble Fan Festa)

Year 2 (Time to Hang Out - At this Festival Bathed in Twilight)

Year 3 (Screaming!? Welcome to the Forest of Wolves! - Hello • Good • Day)

Year 4 (The Best Picture Wrap! -Wedding Live ♡ With Everyone!)

Card Stories

Any event card stories will be linked next to their respective events, as well as within the summary itself. (Initial 3* cards are part of the Main Stories)

Initial 1*/2* (Including 3rd Anniversary)

Birthday Cards

Fes Cards / Bloom Cards

Collaboration Cards

Card stories for events yet to be summarized

Miscellaneous

April Fools

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ladybyakuya · 11 months ago

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| BRAZIL + TASUKU TSUBAKINO.

+cw. — advisor!Tasuku Tsubakino x fem!singer!reader, musical au,band au, bofurin as band, mention of show pub ougi bar so manga spoilers, first meeting, usage of some canonical elements, rockstar!umemiya hajime, angst,hurt, misunderstanding ( ? ), confession, smut, mature content ahead. title based on song brazil by Declan McKenna

+wc. — 2k

+syn.— Tsubaki likes you while you know that he loves umemiya hajime and that is where jealousy comes into play but when it does it always turns the world upside down.

+notes. — this is a collab piece via wind breaker server ( the bofurin brothel ) hosted by our beloved mel ( @gimme-hiragi ). i used tsubaki instead of tsubakino because that's how he likes to be addressed. he is one of my favs >:)). dividers by cafekitsune | redirect to blog navigation.

+tags. — @stunie @prettyiwa

The stage curtains are drawn out granting a manageable access for the sunlight to pour into the empty stage. The pebble bar lights are not alive. There is no need for those but only during nights. Tsubaki is staring at the stage with a daze in his eyes as you connect the chords, set the microphone, and grab the headphones. For someone who can ignite the dormant rhythm in people’s hearts with the melody of your voice, you are an eerily silent soul. You clean the headphones with your handkerchief before putting it on. The only sound that could be heard was breathing: one was even like a pond while the other was uneven like a mountain range. Despite how quiet you are, Tsubaki can still pick up the rhythm of your body and soul: the footsteps, the breathing, Tsubaki watches as you take the stance of singing in front of the microphone. He always does. He comes every Friday morning to watch you practice and as for you, you practice singing without any instruments or gadgets every morning, when the entire bar is in deep slumber. Clearing your throat, you start to sing but at first, just with wordless tunes, scaling your voice.

The lyrics:

{ heard he lives down a river somewhere

With six cars and a grizzly bear

He's got eyes, but he can't see

Well, he talks like an angel, but he looks like me

Oh, Lord

Oh, Lord }

Tsubaki rests his chin in between the slit of his index finger and thumb, elbow fixed on the table beside the glass of a strawberry milkshake. His eyes straw away due to the jingle of the bell coming from afar that is located at the apex of the back door. Someone is here. Tsubaki can not see them until they step into the main arena. Maybe they are from the staff section he consoles himself. He looks at you to check if you are expecting someone’s arrival at this time of the day but he finds you immersed in your voice. With those headphones on he doubts you could barely hear anything.

The thing is your Friday mornings solely belong to Tsubaki so anyone else is just noise to him but you do not know that. You know that every Friday morning he turns up sharp at 9 o clock without his twin bodyguards. He murmurs under his breath, “The music you play in bars is more real than what I play in stadiums.” and sips the strawberry milkshake through the pink straw.

You cover the microphone with your palm; moving your head away from it a little you retort tartly. “Oh? That’s new. Are you mocking bofurin?”

Tsubaki's red lips have a tinge of the pinkish milkshake he just sipped. He could not even gulp it down. Azure eyes go static, a palm over his mouth. Awkward. Waiting.

“That’s what I thought. You could never,” you chime with a smile plastered on your face that you often maneuver during interaction of any sort with customers. He finally gulps down the strawberry milkshake. It feels stale and does not help with either the heat or the bubbling tension amongst his chest ribs. The moment you were about to sing again, your eyes switched to the entrance of the bar lounge.

Tsubaki’s sky lake eyes follow as he murmurs, “Umemiya-kun. . .?” it sparkles as if the sun shone upon him after a cloudy day.

Your mouth fell open ajar. How courageous of Umemiya to roam as free as a bird carrying all the fame and fortune on his back. “I hope you’re not looking for a place to hide, Haji.” you quipped gaining the attention of pair of eyes in the room.

Umemiya swigs his palm in front of his face exclaiming with zest, “No. No. Not at all.” He walks towards the stage and stands in front of you. Now, you can see both: Tsubaki and Umemiya. “Can’t I come visit an old friend?”

That would be unusual for a rockstar of his status. He has just started new heights. Recklessness sure follows wherever there is popularity and financial prosperity. Even with all that, it is unusual for him to pay an unscheduled visit for him. Could it be he is out in the wild, hinting at his muse?

“you’re stuck.” Umemiya’s gigantic smile disappears instantly. Oh! That must be it. He is stuck with his music. “Bingo.”

“Hmmm. That's what I thought. I mean you can’t afford to pay a visit like this unless you need me.”You pull his leg a little as Tasuku fidgets with the hem of his dress revealing a fair amount of this thigh. How tactless! Or could be intentional? There is a bleak prospect of that so for the better or worse you do not follow the trail of that thought. It's your jealousy wrapped with anger trying to stretch your heartstrings and release it, snapping the string and rewarding you with a bleeding heart.

You excuse yourself for a minute because it truly feels like someone is already tugging at your heartstrings and it's none other than Tsubaki. The way he acts around Umemiya bothers you. The way he acts around you clams your heart but you can not run after that tranquility. Never. Not in this life.

By the time, you come back Tsubaki has already left and Umemiya is sitting, waiting for you by the window side. He spends nearly half an hour trying to schedule a time with you and you can not lie to him. You can not lie to him even if you want to because you have to appease Tsubaki. So, if you agree with him, help him with whatever problem he is facing.

It was decided that after a gig, the next weekend his staff would come and pick you up from your house and drop you at his house. And, when the work is done his staff will drop you back to your house.

The next morning strikes with a devastation deadlier than death.

There is a photo of you and Umemiya on the front page. It is blurred just a little enough to not recognize your face but people around you can tell easily that it’s you. Tsubaki certainly can. That’s the only thing that matters, not the contents of the photo or how ambiguous it is. You and Umemiya are standing close to each other, closer than normal people. He is touching your earring and the angle of the photo makes it seem that he is touching your cheek. Damn! These paparazzi. You try not to call any of the Bofurin members because by now the must be busy handling the situation, especially Tsubaki being Umemiya’s sole advisor. It is almost mid-day. You throw the paper in the dustbin and pour liquor before burning it. Sure, you are jealous of Umemiya but you do not pray for his down fall. It makes you feel horrible to even think such a case. If this the price of love you have to pay, you would rather fall out of love. As if you can afford to do that. You can perhaps but not now. You have your reputation to protect.

A few nights later, after your first show when you walk back to your green room you find Tsubaki waiting in your green room without the lights on in the dark Your green room is nothing out of the ordinary except for him. He is like a cilantro in dessert. He does not belong here, in the world of booze and cheap bar lights.

“What’re you doing here?” you try to sound angry, even annoyed but it is the shock that he hears the most, maybe a fear hidden underneath your voice. So, he does not leave the chair but rather folds his legs, one over the other. The taut and toned muscles of his legs are on vivid display making it even harder for you to focus.

“It was easy. I sneaked in.” He responds with so much detest in his heart that it makes you think he is mad about the photo. But he has no right to be, you remind yourself. After all, he is the one to choose to turn a blind eye to your feelings.

“Well, I have another performance so you have to wait.” you tartly spoke walking towards the mirror for some touch-up. Tsubaki watches you as you put lipstick on your lips.

“Why do you think I’m here?”

“Let me answer you with a question.” You turn your face to him, your hand still being kept on the wooden skin of the dressing table. “Why do you think I didn’t join Bodurin?”

“So, it's true. The rumors are true.” This guy . . .

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The opened lipstick clatters among the cosmetics separating the maroon part from the lipstick case as you throw it away. Tsubaki does not say a word; just spares a glance at the smudged part of your lips, must have happened when you swatted it away.

“All this time, I thought you . . .you liked him. You liked him.” Tsubaki exclaims in a low voice leaving his seat and coming close to you. “So, I restrained myself. I kept reminding myself—” his fingers linger on your chin. “ That you are not mine to own.” Right! How could you not think of this? Tsubaki the smudged part of the lipstick and you let him. “Now, i don’t have to do that.” he whispers against your lips. You gulp. He still has not let go of your chin. You don’t think he is going to . . . kiss you, right? He chins your face up a little expanding a little more access towards your collar bones. Tsubaki jocks down, kisses on your exposed collarbone. Just a peck. “That will do for now. Will quiet down the rumors too.” Tsubaki smiles. You look at the mirror to check your reflection. There it is the lipstick mark, as bright as a diamond. You do not dare to wipe it off. You don’t want to.

Tsubaki stands behind you as you watch yourself in all glory. He moves aside the fall of your hair onto your left shoulder. You tilt your head, eyes glistening as you look at him through the mirror. There is hope. Want. Lust. Desire. . . Tsubaki wet his lips seeing you inviting him but he can not do that, not here. You have a show to host, and people to entertain. So, he unzips your dress exposing your skin. You must either be wearing a backless bra or nipple pads. If not none, you are getting an earful from him later but for now, he proceeds to place a trail of kisses, slow and full all over your back. It is frustrating how you can not see his face or the lipstick marks he left on your back.

Tsubaki stands up after kissing you till the dress would allow him. He zips it up as he stands. “I’ll wait for your show to be over. Then, after the show we are going home.” He whispers into your ear but he is too close so you shrink feeling ticklish all over your body. A few days ago he felt light years away, so out of your reach and now he is standing behind you, as close as he can get for now.

“I’ll hurry after the show if . . .” you can finally find your voice now. Wait, can you sing properly? Of course, you can; you reassure yourself.

“Oh don’t worry.” Tsubaki interrupts. “ I’ll make sure we will make up for all the time we have lost love.” He holds your hand assuring you that it's okay; he is not running anymore; he is not. If anything, he feels repentance for suffering all these years regretting his feelings for you but now that bitter feeling has sublimed he is so full of love that it feels like his heart will burst at the seams. It's not suffocating anymore. It’s liberating. Love is liberating. OH DEAR! What blind fool he has been to not to see the love you have for him in those galactic eyes.

@underratedcharactercorner @interstellar-inn

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