#X plane world traffic

[colormepurplex2]

Golden Cufflinks | JJK

▻ Golden Cufflinks ↳ Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!f.Reader ⤜ Best Friend's Fiance, Strangers to True Mates ⤜ A/B/O AU | angst, smut, fluff ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 11,742 ⤜ Summary: You’ve never given much thought to finding your true mate, firmly believing it’s something that will happen when it happens. But, when you do find him—thanks to a pair of golden cufflinks—it very well could ruin everything. They say not all’s fair in love and war; you just hadn’t expected your best friend’s wedding to be the battleground. ⚠️ Crass language, talk of designation hierarchy, mild talk of misogynistic practices of the past, confessions of cheating(not by main pairing), anger/arguments, kissing, dick sucking, mild cum intrigue, maybe mild breeding kink if you squint, unprotected v. sex, knotting, lots of slick and cum

Written for @hisunshiine as part of the 2nd Quarter 2023 @bangtanwritershq Awards Season! A/N: Congratualtions, Vanessa. You deserve all the kudos for a job well done during the 2nd Quarter 2023, I hope you enjoy the story!

A special thank you to @downbad4yoongi, @lo1k-diamonds, @moonleeai for the amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

Nerves flutter in your belly as you gather your belongings from the plastic bin at the end of the rolling conveyor belt on the other side of security. As you walk away, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you have to juggle your purse and jacket to retrieve it.

You feel bad for making Hayun, your best friend for as long as you can remember, wait for a response, but you desperately just want to find your gate and have a seat first. Once you find it and settle in at a chair by the big windows looking out on the tarmac, you thumb to her contact.

“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d probably hate you right now for making me wait so long for a response,” Hayun sasses before her voice softens, “Hello, I love you.”

“Love you, too, girl,” you say, unable to help the smile that tilts your lips up. “Sorry, I’ve been MIA for the last few hours. Things have been hectic. I misplaced my passport this morning, but I finally found it under the bed and then missed the hotel shuttle. I had to call a rideshare, but of course, it took them forever to get through airport traffic, and ugh…” you trail off with a sigh. “I’m sitting down for the first time since I woke up this morning.”

Which was approximately four hours ago at this point. Your flight is set to take off less than an hour from now, so you imagine boarding might start soon. You’re not exaggerating when you say it’s been hectic. It was bad enough waking up at 3 AM, but you’re a chronic planner and stickler for time, so missing your flight was the absolute last thing you wanted to happen.

“Oh, babe, that sucks. I’m glad it’s all worked out, though. I really can’t wait to see you!”

The conversation passes quickly, easing your heart and mind as you catch up on the last twenty-four hours. You haven’t seen Hayun in a handful of years. Her career took her to the other side of the world, and yours kept you where you both grew up. The last time you saw her was through a haze of tears at this very airport when she boarded a plane destined for Seoul, South Korea, where she was adopted from at just two years old.

Visiting each other was always something you both talked about. But, as with most things, life just happens, and eventually, you find yourself making that visit you always talked about for reasons you never considered before—like your best friend tying the knot with a guy you’ve never met.

Sure, you’ve seen pictures of him and have heard him talk in the background of most of the phone calls you’ve exchanged with Hayun over the last few years. But, it was never on your friendship bingo card that the next time you’d find yourself seeing your best friend, it would be her at her wedding.

“I gotta go. They’re about to start boarding.”

“I’ll see you when you land. Can’t wait!”

Hayun disconnects the call, and you gather your belongings to prepare to line up in the boarding queue. It will be a long flight, but seeing Hayun again after so long apart will be worth it.

You fiddle with the bracelet on your left wrist, twisting and pinching at the silver moon charm dangling from the thin chain. Hayun has a matching one. They were presents from your parents on the day you were both recognized with your designations; she was thirteen, and you were fifteen.

The dynamics of Alphas and Omegas have long since changed from what it once was. Legend has it that once upon a time, an Alpha and an Omega were closer to their wolf-kin than how the world is now. Thanks to evolution and science, the only things remaining from that time are the more basic bodily functions—scents, knots, and slick, to sum it up.

The crescent charm on your wrist symbolizes your designation—Omega. But being an Omega doesn’t hold much meaning for you. You don’t feel all that special, and it’s not like you’re rare or any more or less capable than the next person. As it stands, you can see at least a dozen other moons jangling from bracelets, waiting to board the same plane you are.

There are also necklaces, tattoos, and other ways to display a designation scattered around the waiting area. The how of it is mostly regional, sometimes generational. The Beta standing behind you in the queue has a teardrop earring dangling from their left ear, and if it weren’t for the pheromone blockers you took this morning, you might be able to smell their unique scent.

You also have your own smell, a scent that is just you. You’ve been told it’s a sweet, citrusy bouquet like lemonade on a hot summer afternoon. However, also thanks to the blockers, it remains suppressed to the point someone would have to make you bleed or press their nose so firmly against your throat it hurts to smell it.

There really is only one thing that a lot of people are envious of when it comes to an Omega’s designation, and that is that they supposedly have an Alpha true mate out there somewhere that will call to their baser nature. It’s such a rare phenomenon these days that it might as well be part of the legends of old, too.

The bottom line is that no one cares about subgenders anymore; it doesn't matter whether your charm is the Omega crescent, the teardrop of a Beta, or the triskelion denoting an Alpha. In fact, you’re pretty sure you could ask the Beta for their earring and offer them your charm bracelet and no one would bat an eye over it.

Though you’d never do that, considering the chain around your wrist isn’t technically yours. The night after you presented as Omega, when you snuck away with Hayun to lay on a blanket under the stars and moon that was so like the charm hanging from your twin bracelets, you giggled as you exchanged them. Her tiny fingers trembled against your wrist as she secured her silver chain around it. You did the same with your own around hers a second later.

It was that night that you both swore always to be friends. No matter what happened in life or where either of you ended up, you would always remain true to one another. So far, your friendship has been unfailing, a constant thread of comfort and light for you both. No matter how long it’s been, the charm still smells faintly of your best friend—a perk of the charms themselves, holding a token essence of their owners. Hers holds a soft lilac and jasmine scent that you’ve always thought complimented your own citrus notes.

The flight attendant scanning boarding passes beckoning you forward breaks you out of your internal reflections. With a full heart and giddy anticipation curling in your belly, you find your seat and settle in.

It’s a long flight, longer than most flights you’ve taken. But when you finally walk off the plane, make it through customs and immigration, and finally empty into the arrivals terminal of the Incheon Airport, you feel immediate relief, and the hours spent in the air don’t seem so bad.

“Hey, over here!” a familiar voice calls out, catching your attention.

You spin on your heel, confusion setting in for just a moment before it’s replaced by another wave of relief and a little of something warmer. Taehyung, Hayun’s adopted brother, swamps you in a giant bear hug that quite literally sweeps you off of your feet.

“Wow, hey. This is a surprise. What are you doing here? Where’s Hayun?”

Taehyung scrunches up his face, letting out a small scoff. “It’s a good surprise, I hope. Something came up, and she had to meet with the wedding planner and caterer at the last minute. She called me and asked if I could pick you up.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah,” you confirm with a smile. “Good surprise.”

It’s no secret that you’ve always been fond of Taehyung. As a baby, you were toddling around with him long before his family adopted Hayun. She ended up being the sister you never knew you needed, even if you were a few years older.

When she moved to Seoul for work, Taehyung ended up being the physical representation that took her place. He flew out a week before you to help her with planning and will stay for a few weeks after you’ve already headed back home. They may have had their differences over the years, but their sibling bond is stronger than petty arguments and rivalries.

“Ready to get on the road? It’s a long drive.”

Hours later, with the rolling countryside and farms dotting the horizon, you discover the fiasco inside your backpack. The bottle of pheromone blockers you packed this morning somehow got shuffled to the bottom of your bag and popped open. The once-powder-filled capsules litter the bottom of your bag, broken open. Pale blue powder coats your things, the mild flower smell of the medicine lingering in the air.

“Fucking hell,” you groan. “Any chance there’s a clinic somewhere between here and where we’re going?”

“Unfortunately, no.” He frowns, drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, making the triskelion signet ring on his index finger glitter in the mid-day sun. “We’d probably have to turn around and head nearly three hours back to get anywhere near a clinic with blockers. I'm told most people don’t use them anymore these days here. Maybe another one of the wedding party might have some you could borrow if you really need them. But, honestly, I don’t see anyone minding if you don’t use them.”

“Most people here don’t use them anymore?”

“Well, yeah, with the progression of equality and things like that. They’re so great here, way more progressive than back home. It’s very common for Omegas to go off of blockers or never even begin them. Laws have been implemented to punish Alphas who can’t control themselves. The responsibility of remaining safe shouldn’t be solely set on the shoulders of the Omega population.”

Talk like that has only recently become popular back home. You’ve heard the speeches and followed the media and the sources, but you suppose after nearly half of your life taking blockers, it just comes naturally to continue to do so.

“Hm, yeah, okay. I guess it’s no big deal, really. As long as you’re sure people won’t mind?”

Taehyung sniffs the air, his nose twitching. “I think you smell great, but just in case not everyone does, if someone says something, then I’ll personally drive all the way back to the city and pick you up some,” Taehyung promises, giving you one of his swoon-worthy smiles.

The crush you once upon a time had on Taehyung threatens to spark anew at the sight of his charming, boxy grin—a grin you would have once done anything to pull from him. But now, it just fills you with warmth and a homey comfort.

You give him a smile of your own. “Deal.”

“Hayun!”

Her squeal of delight when she turns around and catches sight of you echoes through the open space of the dimly lit bar of the bed and breakfast where the wedding is taking place.

It’s a cozy space with rich dark wood accents and royal blue velvet upholstery. Brass gas lamps and light fixtures give the entire lounge an upscale and chic atmosphere that you know is right up Hayun’s alley.

The few hours you had between checking in at the bed and breakfast and meeting Hayun for her very small—just you and one other person—bachelorette party were spent familiarizing yourself with the grounds.

The ceremony will take place in one of the lavish gardens, and the reception will follow in one of the grand dining halls. For a bed and breakfast, it’s far fancier than any you’ve ever been to. It definitely does not have the mom-and-pop feel that you typically associate with the term ‘B&B’.

“You’re here!” she shrills, throwing her arms around your neck.

Her petite form fits just like it always has against yours. Thick black hair, shorter than the last time you saw it, curls around the rounded lines of her cheeks, and her brown eyes are bright and glisten with happy tears. With her bubbly personality and small, wispy frame, she's always reminded you of a fairy.

You sigh, taking a deep breath and savoring your best friend's soft, floral scent. Thanks to the bracelet tinkling around her wrist, it holds the smallest undercurrent of your sweet citrus. Clearly, she’s not taking blockers; the scents are heavy and delightful. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Hayun sucks in a deep breath that mirrors yours. “Wow, babe, you smell good! Finally gone off the blockers, huh?”

“Uh, kind of,” you chuckle, untangling yourself from her arms. “I brought some, but they broke open in my bag at some point.” You shrug. “Tae said it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s not. Absolutely not,” Hayun agrees, grinning broadly. “I’ve been off them for years and haven’t had a single issue. Come on, let’s have a drink and catch up!”

You settle in at a table, and it’s not long before Eunseo, Hayun’s other guest, joins you. You’ve heard a lot about Eunseo. Much the same way Taehyung took the place of Hayun for you, Eunseo took your place for Hayun. You half expect to feel some sort of friendship jealousy upon meeting Eunseo for the first time, but it doesn’t come. If anything, you’re immediately fond of the young woman.

The evening carries on, Hayun and Eunseo regaling you with tales from working together and their various adventures around Seoul. Eunseo shows genuine interest in your life back home, seeming eager to hear stories of Hayun’s childhood. She shows a particular interest in Taehyung, asking you in no certain terms more than you think is appropriate to share.

“But you’ve seen it, right?” Eunseo asks. Her elbows rest on the table, and her chin is nestled on her clasped hands, her eyes wide and glassy from the countless glasses of wine she’s had. “I bet it’s huge. Am I right?”

“Ugh,” Hayun groans. “Can we not talk about my brother’s dick. Please.” She makes a gagging sound before slurping down the rest of her cocktail and flagging down a passing waiter for another.

You try to wave off the waiter, but he’s turned toward the bar before you can get his attention. If Hayun has much more to drink, you’re not sure she’ll be able to walk down the aisle tomorrow unassisted.

“I’m just curious. It’s a harmless question,” Eunseo pouts. “Ignore her. Tell me. I just have to know.”

You swirl the straw around in your glass of water before giving Eunseo what you hope is a conspiratorial look. “Well—”

“What?! Ew. Are you really about to answer her? Please, dear god, do not tell me you have seen my brother’s penis. If you’ve seen it—fuck, I might actually puke.”

As much as you probably shouldn’t, you laugh, which earns further protests and obscene noises from Hayun.

“Before you interrupted me, I was going to say that maybe Eunseo should ask him herself.”

Hayun howls a protest, sloshing her new cocktail onto the table as she gesticulates a crude hand gesture in your direction. “Do not. I repeat, do not do that, Eunseo!”

The conversation peters off, Hayun losing herself in another cocktail while Eunseo stares dreamily up at the ceiling.

“I think—hiccup—it's bedtime,” Eunseo slurs.

As if right on cue, a familiar face peeks through the entrance to the lounge. You wave Taehyung down, and he comes jogging across the space to your table. His shirt is rumpled with the top few buttons undone, but his eyes are clear, and you know he’ll be a perfect gentleman.

“Are you sure?” you ask him, pitching your voice low.

“I got this, don’t worry. We finished up a few hours ago anyway.”

Taehyung gives you a warm, private smile before turning to Eunseo. “Hey there, beautiful. Let’s get you on to bed, okay?”

“Where’s my savior?” Hayun asks, frowning after her brother escorting Eunseo from the lounge and back through the front lobby.

“Right here,” you tell her, sliding out of your chair and coming around to her side of the table. “Come on, let’s go.”

It takes you more than twice as long as it usually would to get to Hayun’s room. She leans against the wall in the hall as you dig through her pockets in search of her room key. Once you find it tucked between a few stray bills and her ID, you usher her into the room and deposit her onto the bed.

Her fiance has a room on the other side of the grounds, but after the ceremony, they will both be moving into one of the couple’s suites for the night before jet-setting off to Jeju Island for their week-long honeymoon.

“Am I doing the right thing?”

Hayun’s question catches you off guard. You throw a confused look at her over your shoulder as you rummage through her suitcase in search of something for her to sleep in.

“What?”

She sighs as she rolls over, letting her head hang off the edge of the bed so she can look at you upside down. “Marrying Jungkook. It’s a mistake…so why am I doing it?”

“Hayun…what are you talking about? Jungkook is perfect for you. You guys have been dating for five years, and you told me you’ve never been happier. Where’s the mistake in that?”

The sound Hayun makes is akin to something a wounded animal might make. She flops, flailing her arms and legs like a child throwing a fit.

“That’s the thing, though! I’m happy, but I don’t love him. Oh god,” she cries. “I don’t love him.”

“Hey, hey now.” You abandon the search for sleeping clothes and crawl across the floor until you’re kneeling beside the bed. Smoothing your hand across her forehead, you ask, “Where is all this coming from?”

“He thinks I’m his true mate,” she whispers. The tears leaking from her eyes slide up her face, wetting the edges of her eyebrows before sliding over her forehead and disappearing into her hair. “But I know he’s not mine.”

“Wh��wait, what?” You push up from the floor and move onto the bed, gathering your best friend’s head into your lap so she’s no longer hanging upside down off the side of the bed.

She hiccups a sob, lips trembling as she explains, “He says I’m his true mate, that he knows because of my scent. But he doesn’t smell special to me…how is that possible?”

“Hayun, I don’t—”

“I cheated on him,” she whimpers in confession, cutting off what were going to be your soothing words of affirmation. They sour on your tongue, refusing to be released now.

Your stomach churns at her admittance. “You what?”

“You have every right to judge me. I’m a terrible person. But, when he told me I was his true mate…I panicked. I had to be sure I wasn’t broken, that me not finding his scent special wasn’t just something wrong with me.” Hayun blinks rapidly, trying to clear the tears as they begin to come in earnest. She clutches at the front of her shirt, hand fisting over her heart. “So, I slept with two Alphas that I work with to see if it was any different. I had to be sure. I had to know.”

“Hayun, I-I-I don’t…I’m not—”

“I’m such a fucking mess,” she sobs, curling in on you and pressing her face against your stomach. “I don’t deserve him. I only said yes to marrying him because I don’t want to be alone forever. I can’t be like you. I need someone.”

Her words sting, causing you to flinch involuntarily. You watch as she falls apart in your lap, ultimately giving in to her grief. It’s on the tip of your tongue to call her out on her childish behavior, to set the record straight about your own love life, and to leave her to her wallowing. But…the shaking of her shoulders and soft whines from her remind you so much of a younger and more fragile Hayun—the Hayun of your shared childhoods.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” No matter how you might feel about her actions and the hurtful words she’s spilled, you hate to see your best friend so distraught and broken. “Hey, look at me.”

You wait until her watery eyes peel away from your shirt and meet yours. “Tell me you hate me; it’s okay.”

“Hayun, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. You made…a mistake, that’s all. You were trying to figure things out. But…Hayun, you…you have to tell him.”

She frowns up at you, her expression sobering. “Tell him?”

“He’s about to marry you, Hayun. That’s a big freaking deal…you have to tell him tomorrow morning before anything else happens.”

The laugh that bubbles from her lips is anything but humorous. “I-I can’t do that! He’ll hate me. He’ll call the wedding off!” She shoves out of your lap and stares at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“If Jungkook truly loves you and says you’re his true mate, I don’t see that happening. But, he deserves to know. You have to know that. Either you tell him now, or he finds out years from now, and then it’ll be so much worse,” you try to reason with her.

“He doesn’t have to know!” she whisper-yells, her tears turning from sad to angry in an instant.

You shake your head, unable to believe what you’re hearing from her. “This isn’t right, Hayun. You can’t go into a marriage with someone with secrets like that!”

“It’s not like it’ll happen again. I’m not going to cheat on him while we’re married. Please,” she begs, her face once more softening into saddened anguish. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“He deserves to know, Hayun,” you whisper, remembering your own keen sting of betrayal from many years ago. There is a reason you don’t date much. “You say it won’t happen again?” you ask, trying to buy yourself some time to process everything Hayun just told you.

Her silence is deafening, and you think she’s about to not answer you the way you hope, but, finally, she murmurs, “No. Never. I swear it.”

“Okay. Okay, good. But, he still needs to know.”

Just because you’ve never actually met Jungkook, it doesn’t mean you don’t care for him. He’s the one who puts a smile on Hayun’s face when you can’t. He’s the reason she’s as happy as she is…or has been? Now, you’re not so sure. But, what you are certain about is that Hayun is far too drunk right now to know up from down and is just having a moment of raw vulnerability.

“Are you going to tell him?” she asks, voice a hoarse whisper.

You chew your bottom lip for a moment before slowly shaking your head. Thinking about it, even if you didn’t care for Jungkook, he still deserves to know on pure principle. “No. I won’t tell him.” She lets out a soft sigh of relief, which has you tacking on, “Because it’s not my place to tell him, it’s yours.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “Okay.” She doesn’t say anything more beyond that, falling into a listless stupor, all of her energy sapped from the quick argument and endless cocktails from the bar.

After you wrestle her out of her clothes and put on a long nightgown, she tucks easily into bed. You leave a glass of water on the bedside table for her, then exit the room and head to your own.

A pang of uncertainty refuses to quell in the pit of your stomach. You toss and turn most of the night, falling into a fitful sleep just before the sun begins to kiss the horizon. It’s going to be a long day…a battle of wills you never saw coming.

🥀🥀🥀

Jungkook

Today is the big day, and Jungkook couldn’t be happier. Nothing could possibly bring him down from the high he’s feeling. Not even the fact that he is unable to find the cufflinks that were passed down to him by his father.

“Did you check the pockets of all your pants?” Jimin, Jungkook’s best friend, asks from where he’s lounging in one of the chairs on the other side of Jungkook’s hotel room.

“Yes,” he mutters, dumping his entire suitcase onto the bed to rifle through it once again. “I remember putting them with the pile of Hayun’s—oh fuck.”

“That’s great,” Taehyung sighs. “So my sister probably has them.” He checks his watch. “We don’t really have time to go on a scavenger hunt through her room. Jimin and I are supposed to meet the photographer to get started on some of the bride and groomsmen shots.”

Jungkook purses his lips and rakes his hands through his hair as he thinks of a solution. “I’d go look myself, but what if I run into Hayun between here and there? She specifically requested that we not see each other until the ceremony.”

Taehyung hums lightly. “I think I have an idea. The other girls don’t meet for pictures until after we’re done. So…yeah…okay…done,” he murmurs, tapping away at his phone screen. “If they’re in Hayun’s things, they’ll be delivered to you soon.”

“Thanks, Taehyung, you’re a lifesaver.”

Minutes later, Jungkook finds himself alone, Taehyung and Jimin having gone to meet with the photographer. Somewhere out there, beyond the confines of his room, his fiancee is probably smiling and laughing as she poses in front of the camera. If only Jungkook could see through walls. He’d give anything for even just a little glimpse of his bride-to-be.

When Jungkook first met Hayun almost six years ago, he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to track her scent. The meeting he was heading for was instantly forgotten, replaced by a visceral need to discover the source of that titillating aroma that had his hindbrain firing on all cylinders.

Never before had Jungkook experienced something so…primal. It was both alarming and utterly fascinating. Amongst the harsh scents of car exhaust and the warm notes of roasted coffee, Jungkook wove his way through the crowd on the sidewalk to the doors of a little cafe; Hayun was inside, ordering a matcha tea to-go, and the rest was history.

Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to stop daydreaming and fiddling with his shirt's empty cuffs and focus on putting together the rest of his suit.

The scent hits Jungkook a moment before the sound of a soft knock reaches his ears. He’s standing in the ensuite bathroom, mid-skin care routine. Wiping his wet fingers off onto a towel, he draws in a deep breath to confirm the aroma wafting to him from beyond the door of his room.

A roguish smirk quirks up one side of his mouth as he exits the bathroom and moves across the room. Unable to help himself, he opens the door. “Hayun,” he chuckles, fingers wrapping around the doorknob, “I thought we agreed that you…you are not Hayun.” The words tumble from his suddenly numb lips, rasping past his too-dry tongue.

“Umm, no. Not Hayun, sorry. You’re Jungkook?”

The woman standing before him is clearly not his fiancee. The woman’s purple gown is familiar, Jungkook knowing it’s what Hayun chose for her attending party. You’re a friend of Hayun, clearly, yet you smell exactly like Hayun…if Hayun smelled like Hayun times a thousand. The fragrance slams into his olfactory system, and the edges of his vision grow blurry a moment before he shakes his head and steadies himself with a hand on the doorjamb.

“Yeah,” he whispers, voice raspy with his suddenly dry throat. Revelations pounding him right between the eyes, washing through his body and keying right into his most basic of instincts.

Jungkook watches as your nostrils flare, and he knows it’s in that moment that you register his cedar and lavadin scent; the scent that marks him for what—who—he is.

“Jungkook,” you repeat his name, and he wants to howl with delight at how it sounds coming from your lips. “No. You can’t…it’s not—” your voice cuts off a second before you drop the small, black leather box you were holding and turn, disappearing in a flash of violet tulle and silk.

🥀🥀🥀

“Stop! Wait, please!” The shout of your name follows you down the hall, but you’re too focused on getting as far away from him and the feelings threatening to overwhelm you as you can.

“No, no, no,” you chant under your breath as you move as swiftly as the slippered feet will allow you to go without tripping yourself up.

It’s clearly not fast enough. It only takes a few frantic beats of your heart before a firm grip on your elbow draws you to a stumbling halt. The touch is electric, and your skin flushes with goosebumps at the heated contact.

“Don’t run,” Jungkook pants. “Please.”

You wretch your arm from his grip and whirl on him, a sharp remark ready on the tip of your tongue. Only, it dies there, never to be uttered, as your heart thumps violently in response to the look on his face—pure anguish.

Your voice is thread-thin as you finally manage to get words out, “This can’t be happening.”

Jungkook’s brow twitches, his lips tucked between his teeth. His emotions are stark on his face, and the conflict is raw and bare to you. Clearly, he’s warring the same as you, maybe even more so.

“Why do you smell like Hayun?” he asks, his voice soft in contrast to the raging storm you see in his eyes. “Why do you smell more like my true mate than she even does? Is this some wicked, cruel prank?”

You shake your head, intentionally drawing a breath through your mouth in hopes of saving your nose from another assault of his perfect scent. But, instead, his flavor laces over your tongue and slides down your throat to sit like a knot in your belly. You might as well have licked a stripe up his neck for all the good that did.

“I-I don’t know,” you choke out, trying to keep the pool of saliva under your tongue from dripping down your chin.

Jungkook steps closer to you, leading with his nose. He sniffs the air around you and something must not sit well with what he discovers because he rears back and bares his teeth. “Of course,” he mutters as his eyes drop to your left wrist.

Your eyes track his movement as he scoops up your wrist in a loose grip, and you realize it’s the bracelet there that has his attention. Everything clicks into place, and you feel like the faintest breeze could sweep you away with how lightheaded you’re feeling at this moment.

“We traded,” you whisper as if speaking low enough means the admission won’t utterly destroy the world as you know it.

“She’s not my true mate,” he states, voice as low as yours, fevered and quiet. “You are.”

Those words punch you in the chest, nearly taking you to your knees. If it weren’t for the hold Jungkook has on your wrist, you’re sure you’d be in a heap on the floor. As it is, he catches his other arm around your waist as you sway on the spot.

“Y-you shouldn’t.” Your protest is stilted, the words feeling robotic and unnatural as you gingerly press a hand against the arm that’s angled around your ribs. It was your intention to push his touch away, but the most you accomplish is flexing your fingers against the smooth cotton covering his thick bicep.

Somehow, you find yourself back in the room you had fled from just a few minutes ago. Jungkook settled you on the bed and is now pressing a chilled water bottle into your hands.

He kneels before you, headless of putting wrinkles in his black dress slacks. He’s wearing a thin white undershirt, his starched white button-up undone over it. The cuffs of the sleeves flop as he brings his hands into his lap and picks at the edges of his thumbnails.

Your eyes rove the room, catching on the black leather box still sitting on the floor by the door where you dropped it. Inside the box is nestled a pair of golden cufflinks—a pair you now understand have been passed down through the generations of Jeon men.

Absently, you press your thumb to your phone, unlocking it to reveal the text message that has irrevocably changed your life forever.

If you had known Taehyung’s text message requesting help would have led you to where you are right now, you’d probably have ignored it.

Yet, at the same time, if you had, you’d probably have had this revelation with Jungkook in the middle of the ceremony, and it would have caused all sorts of untoward chaos. No, it’s far better that it’s happening now instead of later. Maybe you can get ahead of this and fix it somehow. Though…

“Hey? You okay?” Jungkook interrupts your thoughts. “Fuck, that’s a stupid question. Sorry.”

“Huh? Oh. Umm…yeah. I don’t—what do we do now?” You turn your phone over, finger ghosting over the power button to lock the screen once more.

Jungkook sighs, and you can’t help watching the rise and fall of his shoulders, framing the swell of his defined chest with the action. He’s an exquisite specimen of masculinity, and even if it weren’t for the musky notes of his scent that mark him as your true mate, you’d find him devastatingly attractive.

“We need to tell Hayun. I c-can’t…I can’t marry her. Not when I’ve found—” he cuts off, wincing as his voice breaks. “I should go and find her. Now, before this can go any further. I’m sorry. I’ll, uh, I’ll find you later, okay?”

“Wait,” you call after him. He stops halfway to the door and glances back at you over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t we tell her together?”

Jungkook chews the inside of his cheek a moment, his eyes flicking over your face as he thinks through your suggestion. Slowly, he nods. “Yeah, maybe that’s for the best.”

There is palpable tension between you and Jungkook as you follow behind him out of the main building. He texted Jimin, knowing he’d be the most reliable with his phone on him, asking where the photos were currently taking place.

It only took a few minutes for Jimin to respond that they were almost finished but were currently capturing some group shots on the walking path by the lake on the backside of the property.

You’re vaguely aware of where the lake is located, having given the map of the grounds that was posted on the backside of your room’s door a cursory look the day you arrived. It’s a relatively short distance, yet it feels like miles with the weight of pure dread sitting firmly on your shoulders.

At least it’s not a feeling you’re experiencing alone. Jungkook is right there with you, and you can clearly see the unease in the stiff way his body moves. The tips of his fingers twitch back in your direction every few steps like he’s fighting off the urge to slip them between your own.

The first person you catch sight of is Yoona, the photographer. She’s squatting in the grass, her large DSLR camera held up to her face, as she captures candid moments of Hayun, Taehyung, and Jimin repositioning themselves along the lake's edge.

Your heart squeezes hard at how beautiful Hayun is in her form-fitting silk ivory, off-the-shoulder wedding gown, the lacy bell sleeves fluttering around her hands. Her head is thrown back, the peel of her carefree laughter carrying to you and further crumbling your soul into a million pieces. You ache, not just for the desire to draw closer to your true mate, but for the inevitable aftermath of what is about to happen.

Taehyung is the first to notice you and Jungkook. The smile on his face slowly disappears, replaced by a concerned frown. Hayun catches his expression and follows his line of sight. Her gaze sears into you, and you feel like you might combust into a cloud of ash at any second with the irritation contained in her pretty brown eyes.

“What’s going on?” Hayun exclaims, throwing her hands up in a frustrated manner as she stalks towards you and Jungkook. “It’s not time for your photos yet,” she tells you before her eyes swing to Jungkook. “What happened to not seeing me before the wedding? That was your rule!”

“Hayun, we need to talk.”

“Talk about wh—” she cuts off, her question turning into a gasp. Your wide eyes flick to you. “You told him?”

“What? No!”

Your protest rings out at the same time that Jungkook says, “She’s my true mate.”

A breeze kicks up, sweeping from behind you and tossing errant strands of hair across Hayun’s forehead. You’d give anything for the power to pluck the wind from the air, shove it back…keep it from showering her with yours and Jungkook’s combined scents—a blatant confirmation echoing the words Jungkook just let loose.

Hayun stiffens. Her jaw goes rigid, and her face pales as her nostrils flare. It’s a moment that will be forever written across the band of your friendship. Betrayal flashes through her eyes before morphing into something akin to somber resignation.

“Hayun,” Jungkook begins. “I don’t—we didn’t…I’m sorry. What do we do?” He spreads his hands out in front of himself in a helpless manner.

By this time, Jimin and Taehyung have come up from behind Hayun, faces wary as they take in the scene with growing clarity. You look to Taehyung, hoping he can see the silent plea in your eyes.

“Explain,” Hayun says simply. Despite how collected she seems, you can see the subtle tremble in her hands and the way the muscles in her neck continue to flex and strain as she clenches and grinds her teeth.

Jungkook launches into recounting the events that brought you to his room and broke the proverbial dam. “We—we had no idea. I swear this is the first time we’ve ever met, and gods, the bracelets…” Jungkook trails off, a pained sound rumbling from his chest.

“Is this a joke?” Taehyung asks accusingly, and it’s like a barb to your heart.

“We wouldn’t do that.” Your croaked statement draws Hayun’s attention.

Hayun sniffles, her chin jerking a little higher into the air. “My nose tells me one thing, but my heart tells me another. Did you know about this last night? Is that why you pushed so hard for me to tell him?” The last part is whispered, meant only for you, which hurts even more.

“Hayun, no! You know that’s impossible. I couldn’t have known.”

“Tell me what?” Jungkook asks, having heard despite her whisper, his eyes swiveling between you and Hayun.

You shake your head at him, not wanting to throw further fuel on the fire. “Hayun, please, believe me.”

A pregnant moment full of thick tension passes before it fizzles, and Hayun shakes her head, not in a dismissive fashion but in gentle acceptance. “I believe you,” she tells you. “I guess…I guess there won’t be a wedding in four hours unless you two want…” She trails off, a bittersweet smile tugging at her cherry red painted lips.

Jungkook blanches, wide eyes landing on you. “What? Us? No. I mean, sorry…but—”

Hayun holds up her hand, quelling Jungkook’s flustered response. “I was teasing, Koo, trying to lighten the mood. Um,” she pauses, absently twisting the diamond engagement ring around her finger before slowly slipping it off and closing a fist around it. “Can we talk, though? There’s something I needed to tell you today anyway.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says wearily.

“Tae, do you mind…?” Hayun asks, not even having to fill in the blanks. Her brother instantly steps into his role as protector and savior.

“Don’t worry about anything. I’ll make some phone calls,” Taehyung assures her before grabbing Jimin’s arm and starting back down the walking path.

“I’ll just—” you thumb over your shoulder in the direction Tae and Jimin just disappeared in “—be in my room.”

“Wait,” Hayun calls, pulling your retreat up short. “Come here.” She opens her arms, her hands opening and closing in grabby motions. “Please.”

A sob cracks from your throat as you throw yourself at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. “I’m so sorry, Hayun. I’m so sorry.”

“Hush. None of that. This isn’t anything we could have predicted or stopped from happening. If anything, maybe this is life’s way of getting back at me for what I did to him,” she whispers in your ear. “This is how it’s meant to be.”

Hayun smoothes a hand over your back and releases you. She steps back, using the back of a finger to lift the tears from your cheeks, and gives you a watery smile.

You’re not sure you can speak without completely losing yourself, so you just give her a tight nod and continue back on your way down the path. A part of you wants to hear what she has to say to Jungkook, to be there to soothe any hurts or aches…which is a startling realization that you’d not just tend to Hayun but to Jungkook, too. That internal, visceral part of you yearns to turn on your heel and…protect what’s yours.

It’s an odd revelation to think of Jungkook as yours. Well, yours unless either of you reject the bond. Though, that thought makes your stomach pitch and roil. You have to trail a hand along the wall in the hall leading to your room to keep yourself from curling over your abdomen at just the idea.

Once back in your room, you’re unsure what to do with yourself, so you absently start to gather your belongings and pack them up. Every few minutes, you find yourself pausing to stare at the door, ears pricking at the slightest sound from beyond it.

You’re not sure what you’re expecting. Whether it’s Hayun coming to your room so the two of you can cry together or Jungkook coming to claim y—uh, you shove that thought aside quickly because now is not the time. At. All.

The time for the wedding comes and passes without a single knock on your door nor a text or call on your phone. You’re tempted to go looking. For what, you’re not entirely sure—an answer, maybe, some sort of direction on what you should do now.

Finally, after hours of sitting in silence with just your thoughts for company, a soft knock sounds at your door. The long hem of your dress nearly trips you up in your haste to make it to the door. It swings open, and for some reason, your stomach drops, the flutter of disappointment heavy and unexpected.

“Hey, beautiful,” Taehyung says, his voice soft and full of emotion. “Mind if I come in?” 

His necktie is loose, and the top button of his dress shirt is undone. There is a tension in his eyes that wasn’t there earlier. It makes your chest ache.

“Sure,” you say, stepping back and letting him into your room.

Taehyung sighs, perches on the end of your bed, and props his elbows on his knees. His chin rests on an upturned fist, his other hand dangling between his legs, clutching his phone.

He opens his mouth, a single word the only thing coming out, “So.”

“So,” you parrot.

“Hayun wants me to take her home…alone. I’m not sure what all she and Jungkook talked about, but I think they’re at least amicable in agreeing that it would be best if he gave her a few days at home alone before they start the process of separating their lives.” You’re not sure if the bitter tinge in your chest is hurt because Hayun isn’t the one telling you this or because now you have to find your own way to the airport. As if reading your thoughts, Taehyung continues, “I can be back in two days, maybe sooner, depending on traffic. Perhaps they’ll let you extend your stay. If not, I can talk to Jimin—”

“No, Tae, it’s okay. I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about me. Just take care of Hayun, make sure she’s okay...as okay as she can be, at least. Fuck.” The last word comes out choked, and you gnash your teeth on the inside of your cheek to keep from letting the angry tears out. You have no right to be angry. Hell, you’re not even sure why you’re angry. It just seems like the easiest emotion to feel right now, the only one that doesn’t leave you feeling like your world is slowly imploding.

“Hey,” Taehyung says, bringing one of his big hands up to cup the side of your face. His thumb prods at the swell of your cheek, causing you to release the tension in your jaw. “Hayun isn’t the only one I’m worried about here.”

“I’m fine—I will be fine,” you amend. “I promise. I think I’m just feeling overwhelmed. I’m mad at myself for ruining Hayun’s big day. I can’t believe this is happening at all. This…this just doesn’t happen. This is the kind of shit you read about in books, it’s not supposed to be real life.”

And there it is, you surmise—the truth of the matter. None of what’s happened makes sense. It honestly belongs on the pages of a book or in a movie script, not in your real life. It still feels surreal. If it weren’t for the subtle, lingering ache you instinctively know is associated with finding your true mate but not allowing yourself to fully accept it, you’d think this was all some elaborate party trick or impractical joke.

Taehyung smiles at you, but the unease in his eyes can’t be masked that easily. “I’m not sure what to say or what to do. You’re right. This isn’t a situation I think anyone was prepared for or ever thought possible, actually. But, here we are…and we have to face it the best way we can.” He pauses for a moment, looking thoughtful. “I'll tell you what: I’ll text Jimin—he’s a good guy, I think you’ll enjoy his company—and ask him to meet you in the lounge. Have a few drinks, wind down, and try to relax as best you can.”

“Sure,” you say lamely, trying to muster up at least a little bit of enthusiasm.

“That’s my girl.” Taehyung offers you another smile, this one not so tense. “Here, I have something for you.” He fishes into his pant pocket and produces a familiar thin silver chain, a tiny crescent moon dangling near one end.

The sight has your spine straightening. “Right, of course.” You quickly thumb open the clasp on the bracelet around your wrist, letting it fall from your skin for the first time since you put it on when Hayun gave it to you all those years ago. It never felt right to take it off…not until now.

Taehyung helps you swap the bracelet with the one in his hand. The metal feels cold against your skin and you immediately miss the subtle fragrance of Hayun’s scent clinging to your wrist. Though, you suppose that’s what has gotten you both into this mess to begin with. Taehyung explains in soft words how Jungkook explained to Hayun about the scent mix-up with the bracelets—such a silly, seemingly insignificant thing…the catalyst to spark such a colossal moment.

“I’m going to get on the road with Hayun, but I’ll call you as soon as we get to her place and check in on you, okay?”

Sitting at the bar with Jungkook’s best friend seemed like a good idea when Taehyung first presented it to you. But, at the time, you weren’t connecting the dots that Jimin was Jungkook’s best friend. He was just Jimin, the guy that just so happened also to be part of the wedding party that you had met in passing briefly, but he seemed like a good enough person. Now, however, you feel all the awkward tension radiating right between your shoulder blades, emphasized by the silence lingering between the two of you.

You traded in your lilac dress for jeans and a light silk blouse, canvas slip-ons in place of your slippers, yet no matter how comfortable you know your clothing is, you can’t shake the prickling discomfort eating away at the back of your neck.

“Want another?” Jimin asks, nodding to your mostly watered-down rum and coke. It’s barely late afternoon, and as much as Taehyung’s suggestion of a drink sounded like just what you needed, you’ve found yourself not in the mood to drink after all.

“Um, nah. I’m okay, thanks.”

“Cool. Okay. I’ll be right back.” Jimin drums his fingers on the tabletop and pops his lips before giving you a slight head nod and pushing up from his chair.

You watch as he saunters to the long bar, his crescent moon tattoo on the nape of his neck peeking out from the top of his collar, and props his elbows onto the shiny top. His smile is flirty and casual as the bartender, a beautiful woman with long, inky tresses and fiery red lipstick, sidles up in front of him.

They’re too far away for you to hear their conversation, but her tinkling laughter carries across the space, and you know it might be a while before Jimin returns to your table.

Which you’re okay with. Considering you know you’re not exactly pleasant company right now, you don’t blame him one bit. You glance down at your phone, once again reading the last text message Hayun sent you not too long ago.

Eunseo stopped by the lounge around the same time Jimin showed up. If her smile and lingering hug were any indicator, she clearly had a thing for him. She gave you a small wave goodbye before giving Jimin another hug and heading out. Apparently, she was going to follow Taehyung and Hayun back to Hayun and Jungkook’s place to help Hayun with whatever she needed over the next few days.

Does it hurt that your best friend is relying on someone else, her new best friend? Yes. Do you also understand why? Also, yes, but that doesn’t make the sting hurt any less.

You’re just about to give up and retreat back to your room, which the front desk still hasn’t given you a definitive answer about whether or not your stay can be extended while you wait for Tae, when a shadow falls across your table a second before.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Jungkook asks in a low voice.

He fidgets, threading and unthreading his fingers together while he waits for your answer. The suit he had half on earlier is gone, and in its place is a dark pair of jeans, the knees worn fashionably, and an oversized white graphic t-shirt. Black sneakers peek out from the rounded bottoms of his pant legs.

You clear your throat, forcing your eyes away from his and instead on the glass sitting in a puddle of condensation on the table before you. “Oh, I—uh, I was actually about to go. You’re welcome to the table, though. Jimin was—” You cut off, realizing Jimin is no longer in the lounge at all. “Well, he was here,” you add with a frown.

Jungkook scratches a hand across the back of his neck and gives you a hesitant smile. “Yeah, he texted me. He went…well, that doesn’t matter. Could we, um…can we talk?”

“Yes.” The response is out of your mouth before he even finishes asking. “Please, I think I’d like that,” you say, nodding toward the open seat across from you.

A shaky breath rattles from Jungkook as he eases into the empty seat. “Have you talked to Hayun at all?” he asks after a moment’s hesitation.

“A text message, but that’s all. I’m not sure she wants to talk to me right now.” Needing something to do with your hands, you trace a finger along the edge of the water pooled around the bottom of your glass and use your other to poke more drops on the side of your cup, making them race down to join the growing puddle.

Jungkook nods, his lips pursing thoughtfully. “She told me what happened last night. Her confession.” That draws your attention back to him, and you wait, fingers still on the glass, intent on hearing what he says next. “I thought I’d be angrier finding out the woman I’ve been with for years—the woman I was hours away from marrying—had cheated on me…but I’m not. For the life of me, I’m not mad at her…even though I know I should be.”

“How do you feel?”

Maybe it’s none of your business, but you have to ask.

Blowing out a breath, Jungkook slides one of his hands across the table and, giving you plenty of time to protest or pull away, slowly slides his fingers between yours, effectively joining his hand with yours. It’s the first time hand-holding has felt so intimate yet wholly innocent.

“Relieved, I think,” he finally says. “Grateful, maybe? Hayun was hurt. As she has every right to be, but she said she also felt relief, too. I think, as much as she said she loved me, she was still holding back even in the end.” With a rueful shake of his head, he tacks on, “We were just a disaster waiting to happen, held together only by the thin chain of a bracelet. We would have shattered eventually.”

Jungkook’s eyes drop to where your fingers are entwined with his, trailing up to your wrist to land on the object he just spoke of.

“I’m relieved, too,” you whisper. Your eyes meet his as he glances up, and you’re instantly captivated.

This is the first time you’ve allowed yourself to really study Jungkook. His hair is tousled like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. You suppose he probably had been and wonder if that’s one of his nervous ticks.

The bow of his lips is prominent and draws your eyes. Your gaze lingers on his lips, making small mental notes at everything you see, like the tiny beauty mark under his bottom lip. His straight nose leads you to his expressive eyes, so dark and full of secrets you want to be privy to.

To say Jungkook is handsome would be a gross understatement. You’re not sure if it’s the fact he’s your true mate or just simply a gorgeous being, but he is pleasing to the eyes, that’s for sure.

You mentally kick yourself for thinking such thoughts about your best friend’s almost-husband after everything that has just happened. It’s not in good taste to entertain these thoughts so soon, right? True mate or not.

Yet, you can’t shove those thoughts away completely.

“Where did you go just now?” Jungkook asks, tilting his head and studying you intently.

Not wanting to explain yourself and the thoughts you were just having, you choose to ask him a question instead. “So, what now?”

You’re thankful Jungkook doesn’t push you to answer. He shifts in his seat and withdraws his fingers from between yours.

“I think we start with…” he trails off, a playful smile tugging up the side of his mouth as he holds the hand he pulled back in the air in front of you in offering. “Hi, I’m Jungkook.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, you smile. A laugh escapes you, and you instantly feel a thousand times lighter with that simple action.

As you take his hand back into yours, allowing yourself to truly savor the feel of his skin against yours, you realize that no matter what happens with Hayun or the fact that you live thousands of miles apart from Jungkook…everything is going to be okay and maybe you wouldn’t have ignored Taehyung’s text after all.

🥀🥀🥀

Jungkook, 3 months later

The flight was long but worth it. Jungkook stretches as he climbs out of the Uber he took from the airport. You would have picked him up. In fact, you are supposed to pick him up…just, not until next week. He decided to surprise you by coming early. He hopes you don’t mind.

Time seemed to drag to a near stand-still following that fateful day at the bed and breakfast where he was so sure he’d be joining his life with Hayun’s officially. No one could have anticipated what actually went down that day. But, in the end, he and Hayun parted ways on pleasant terms, and it’s actually thanks to her that he’s here right now, a week early.

Jungkook was worried that with everything that happened, yours and Hayun’s friendship might suffer. But, surprisingly—and thankfully—you guys have been getting on great. Hayun has been looking at work prospects in Thailand but, from what you’ve told Jungkook, is planning to visit you and Taehyung for Christmas.

It’s been three months, and not a day has gone by that Jungkook hasn’t talked to you in some capacity. From the moment he offered to be your ride to the airport, and you agreed, he’s thought about nothing other than getting on a plane and following you. The draw to you is just that strong.

You’ve expressed similar feelings, already having planned a return trip to Seoul next month. Neither Jungkook nor you have really talked about what the future holds or how to even begin to navigate it. But Jungkook hopes that during the week he is here, you can both begin to figure that out.

Giddiness makes his tattooed fingers shake as he reaches out and grasps the brass knocker on your door. He gives it a rap against the thick wood and waits. Jungkook counts the breaths as his anticipation rises. It’s only three and a half exhales before he hears the soft pad of your feet on the other side of the door.

Jungkook can imagine you pressing up onto your tip toes in order to peer through the peephole. He’d pay money to be able to see the look on your face when you see it’s him. Not being able to see your face doesn’t take away from the dopamine rush he gets when the sound of your surprised squeal sounds through the door.

“Jungkook!” Your shout is followed by the frantic sound of you disengaging the locks on your door before you swing it open and launch yourself at him. “What the fuck are you doing here? Oh, my gods! Why didn’t you tell me? You’re here!”

It feels good to laugh, but it feels even better to have you in his arms finally. The brief embrace he shared with you at the airport when he dropped you off was not enough and is what drove him to try and come sooner than planned.

Jungkook savors the warmth of your soft body pressed against his, your arms tight around his neck. Running one of his hands up your spine, he clasps the back of your neck and uses his hold there to angle your head away from his neck so he can look you in the face.

“Surprise,” he whispers. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You sigh dreamily, your eyes fluttering closed for a second like you’re savoring the feeling of being in his arms. “Pleasant surprise,” you murmur with a smile on your face.

Jungkook can’t help himself. He wants so badly to know if your smile tastes as good as he thinks it will. The press of his lips against yours causes you to melt against him, a throaty sound escaping around the intrusion of his tongue as he works it between your lips.

“Your taste,” he groans, forcing his mouth away from yours before the allure of you can drive him completely mad. Who is he kidding? He’s already there. “I need more.”

🥀🥀🥀

Those words do something to you.

I need more.

They echo the thoughts you’ve been harboring for the last three months. You’ve ached with those words, desperately willing yourself to be patient and let it happen when it’s meant to happen.

But, fuck, it feels so good to have him in your arms, to have his mouth brushing against yours. He tastes divine, a warm sweetness that compliments the musk of his scent that is slowly wrapping itself around you.

“Take me. Take it all,” you urge, completely baring yourself to him, body, mind, and soul. “I’m yours.”

It’s a frenzy, the frantic discarding of clothing. Your fingers work to free him of his jeans while also helping him with the criss-cross straps of your lounging romper. You don’t care that you’re still standing by your front door, bared down to your underwear. The only thing you’re focusing on now is how Jungkook holds you at arm's length and drinks you in from head to toe.

“You…are…everything.” The way he whispers those words crawls under your skin, rooting itself deep in your being. You feel sexy…desired, and unbelievably empty—your body clenches, the ache deep between your thighs. You’ve never been so turned on from just taking your clothes off before, from whispered words and a heated look.

Jungkook allows you to undress him as slow or as fast as you want. You try to take your time and savor every inch of skin you expose. But, you can barely contain yourself when you get to his jeans, shoving them unceremoniously down his thighs with your eyes locked on the many planes and angles of his toned chest and stomach.

Your fingers ghost over his skin, eliciting goosebumps in their wake as you explore the smooth and lush expanse of his shoulders and down his arms. Without needing to say anything more, he gathers you into his arms and covers your mouth with his once more.

It’s a miracle you make it to your bedroom. But, seeing Jungkook sprawled out on your bed is a sight you’ll never forget, with his lowered lids and bottom lip caught between his teeth. You want to taste every inch of him, from the tips of his ears down to the defined muscles of his calves.

Now, though, your gaze focuses on the front of his tented boxer briefs. The dark grey material has darkened even further, where you can see the distinct outline of the head of his cock. Saliva pools in your mouth.

You crawl on the bed, knees slotting between his, your hands on either side of his hips. With your eyes locked on his, you lean down and mouth gently at the wetness. You moan at the flavor of him, your tongue peeking out to seek more.

“Fuck,” you curse. “You taste so good.”

Jungkook lets out a quick breath. “You can’t say shit like that, baby girl. You’re going to make me lose it.” He flicks his eyes up to the ceiling, his lips moving like he’s sending up a silent prayer, before looking back down at you. “You have maybe three seconds before I can’t hold back any longer and tear that ass up.”

You chuckle softly, pouting out your lips in a faux sullen manner. “Yes, sir.”

That earns a growl from Jungkook that has heat racing down your spine as you hook your fingers into the band of his Calvin Klein’s and pull them down. He lifts his hips, helping you free him from their confines.

His cock stands so pretty before you, the full heft bobbing against his belly, smearing a pearl of precum against his golden skin. You dive in, licking at the sticky mess before taking the tip between your lips and lavishing your tongue over his slit.

Jungkook fists the sheets, a litany of curses falling from his lips. “Please,” he chokes.

You keep your eyes locked on his as you inch your way down his length, your jaw forcing itself wider to accommodate as much of him as you can. The blunt head of his cock presses against the back of your throat. You take a steadying breath in through your nose before forcing yourself a little further until your throat constricts around him and you have to pull back.

The second your mouth leaves his cock, saliva stringing from your lips to his tip, Jungkook grabs you and hauls you up over him. You laugh, loving the heat emanating from his body as yours covers his.

“What are you doing?” you gasp.

His strong hands land on your hips and tangle in the band of your panties. “I need these off. Please. I need you. I want to feel you…be inside you.”

You want that, too, you realize, your body already primed and begging for it. The sweet, fragrant notes of your arousal saturate the air, mixing with Jungkook’s to paint a picture of hedonism and wanton desires.

The rest of your clothes come off, your bra and panties are tossed to the side, leaving you utterly bare to him. Your inner thighs slide like velvet over his hips as you move your body against his until you can feel the press of the head of his cock against your entrance.

You wrap a hand around his base, angling him perfectly. It’s a slow descent into madness, the lowering of your body onto his. His eyes bore into yours, pouring out everything that has been building to this moment, this pinnacle that will forever throttle you onto a different path for your future—with him. You can feel every perfect inch slide along your walls as they adjust and welcome him. It’s like sliding home; he is the perfect fit for your body, filling you completely.

The pace you set, at first, is languid. An easy rise and fall of your hips as you both learn the body of the other. Jungkook’s hands mold around your breasts, his thumbs caressing over the pert points of your nipples.

“You feel so good,” you tell him, emphasizing your words with a generous roll of your hips. “So much better than I imagined.”

“You imagined it often?” he asks, a teasing tone to his words.

With the amount of teasing photos and videos you’ve shared with each other over the last few weeks, he knows you have. You can tell he’s just giving you a hard time. That’s fine, because you can…

Jungkook throws his head back as you arch yours, letting his cock hit that special place inside that has you both seeing stars. “Fuck!” His hands drop to your hips, landing with a satisfying smack. His grip tightens, dimpling the supple flesh around his fingers. “Can I knot you?” he asks with a breathless moan. You’ve never taken an alpha’s knot. The idea has your body pulsing around his, flooding slick onto his pelvis as you continue to roll your hips. “Fuck, baby girl, do you like that idea? You want to take my knot like a good girl?”

You can’t even form a coherent thought, much less answer him. The only thing that comes out of your mouth is a panting keen, your chin jerking up and down as you frantically nod your want.

Jungkook braces his feet against the mattress and uses his grip on your hips as leverage to thrust upward, sending you forward onto your hands. He’s relentless, pounding into you from below to the point your eyes roll back, and you have to squeeze them shut. Tiny pinpricks of light burst behind your lids as your body coils tighter than ever before.

You cry out as he sends you over the edge, your body careening into an unfathomable abyss of pleasure. The sounds coming from around his cock as it pounds into you are slick and obscene, debauched yet wholly satisfying. 

“Alpha, need your knot,” you mewl, your lips finding the triskelion tattoo over Jungkook’s left pec muscle. You nibble at it, your teeth sinking softly into the skin.

“Oh, baby, fuck…fuck…Fuuuckkk!” Jungkook shouts, the sound turning into a guttural snarl as his body goes primal.

He seats himself completely inside of you with one final, deliberate thrust, and then you can feel the swell of his knot capture within you. It hurts, your pleasure turning into a moment of pain and panic. You squirm, trying to lift your hips from his, but the clasp of his hands on your body won’t let you go far. You whine, “J-Jungkook.”

“I know, baby girl, I know. Relax. Let your body do what it needs to do.”

It’s like those words unlock some inner Omega part of your brain, and suddenly you feel your body rush with endorphins and dopamine as it accepts the thick jets of his cum now flooding in. Like administering a drug, it’s such a fast transition that you feel lightheaded and giddy, sheepish and almost silly over your moment of panic.

“Gods, that feels so…good.” You wiggle in his arms, gasping as his knot pulls tight. You want more, need more of that feeling…need more of his cum. “More, Alpha, please.”

Jungkook pants, a tired smile on his face. You can feel it when his cock pulses inside you, dribbling even more liquid heat into your body in answer to your plea. “That’s my pretty girl,” Jungkook coos, brushing a hand across your forehead. “You’re so beautiful taking my knot, full of my cum.” He curses softly, reverently, and another gush of heat fills your body. “I’m going to take such good care of you. I swear it.”

You fall into a half-sleep, content and sated as you are. There are no worries about the future, nor the past. You are happy…all thanks to a pair of golden cufflinks.

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2024-11-05 ColorMePurplex2

[russo-woso]

hii i have an alessia russo request :)

basically reader is a huge fuckgirl and everyone knows this, then when she meets alessia after alessias transfer to arsenal they become really close and start sleeping together but r makes it clear it’s just casual, then lessi starts catching feelings for her and r is aware of it but she is kinda playing with alessias feelings and showing mixed signals, eventually lessi breaks down and starts yelling at r about how cruel she’s being by playing with her feelings, happy ending though please maybe there’s an explanation on why r was acting the way she was?

also please write it with a bottom!alessia :)

No strings || Alessia Russo x Bronze!reader

Warning smut 18+, ab riding, fingering, orgasm denial, bottom!alessia, top!reader

Summary You’re known for getting around, but what happens when you start to fall for a special someone?

It’s a long one :)

Moving to Arsenal from Barcelona had been a hard move.

You knew it would be a hard move but you had prepared yourself for it.

The worst part of it all was the fact you were leaving your big sister, Lucy, behind.

Over the summer, you had been too focused on the World Cup to think about the dread of moving, but once you reached the airport, Lucy approached to say goodbye and that’s when it finally hit you.

You hated it.

You hated the fact you had to move.

But you had to. You had to leave.

You had to leave her.

Her being Jana Fernández.

You and Jana had been dating since you were both twenty and had dated for two years, however, when you were still madly in love with her, she came to you and said she had fallen out of love with you. She told you that you weren’t the one for her, and that killed you.

Once you’d broken up with Jana, it just became awkward and toxic to be around her.

Every training, you purposely avoided her but it became impossible to do that when you were always put at partners for training.

So you left.

You left everything behind so you could have a new beginning, and you wanted that.

You promised you wouldn’t fall in love again, not for a while at least, but that rule started to fade once you saw her, Alessia Russo.

Still being 22, you were playing with the under 23s, however, within the days prior to meeting her, you had received your call up for the World Cup.

Due to the fact you were only getting your call up then, you had never met Alessia but Lucy and Kiera had both told many stories with a certain blonde striker in them.

Alessia and you signed your contracts for Arsenal on the same day and the photographers suggested you take pictures together, which meant Arsenal got to show off their two new signings that could potentially be the future of English football.

It was only after the shoots that Alessia spoke to you.

“You’re Lucy’s sister aren’t you?” Alessia asked and you nodded in response, worried that you’d stutter if you opened your mouth. “You two look alike.” It was the truth. You and Lucy really did look alike. You both were tall, muscular, tattooed.

“Alessia, right?” You questioned, already knowing the answer and was confirmed when she nodded. “I’ve heard lots about you from Luce and Kiera. I’m guessing you’re the blonde striker that goes by Less in their stories.”

“They talk about me? What stories do they tell you?”

“There was this one story where you supposedly tripped over someone’s boot and face planted the floor.” You slightly giggled as Alessia’s face went a light shade of red. “Don’t worry, I’m clumsy too. Ask Luce. I’ve always been clumsy since I was a toddler. Running into stuff, tripping over things, everyone says they’re surprised I don’t trip over the ball when I play football.”

“No way, I get told that all the time.” You and Alessia laughed as the similarities you shared arose.

“Anyway, I best go, my plane back to Barca is in a few hours and you know what London traffic is like.” You joked and Alessia smiled. “See you in Australia?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you in Australia.” Alessia confirmed and with a small smile, you waved and left leaving a very confused Alessia.

Alessia had never come across a girl who made her feel the way you made her which racked her brain full of questions about you, and herself.

———————

“Luce, come on, I don’t like her. I can’t like her.” You complained as Lucy kept going on and on about you liking Alessia.

Once you’d gotten back from London, you told Lucy your encounter with Alessia and she had been teasing you for the past week.

You were currently on the way to London to meet up with the team before making your way to Australia for the World Cup.

“Yeah, but you do deep down, don’t you?” Lucy asked, desperate to get the truth from you.

“Kiera, please tell her to stop.” You begged, for the fourth time, as Kiera looked, unimpressed, at the both of you.

“Lucy, stop it.” Was all Kiera said and it was your turn to look unimpressed at her.

“Look, Luce, I get it. You’re my older sister, you want to know who I like, but I can’t like Alessia. Not after Jana.” You explained and Lucy gave you a sympathetic look. “And anyway, Alessia doesn’t even like girls.”

“Listen, kid, as your older sister, it’s not just my job to know who you like, but it’s also my job to make sure you’re happy, and if I think you’d be happy with Alessia, I say to shoot your shot.” Lucy told you and you nodded along, pretending to listen to her when actually you were blocking her voice out because you knew you wouldn’t do what she was saying.

Once Lucy had finished talking, she pressed resume on her laptop and went back to watching her film which you were grateful for because it meant that you didn’t have to continue the conversation.

———————

“Y/N, hi.” You heard a voice say before a pair of arms wrapped around you.

“Hi Alessia.” You said, taken aback at how sudden the action was.

“How are you? How was your flight from Barcelona?” Alessia questioned, you figured to try make conversation.

“It was good. A bit of turbulence and Lucy being annoying, but other than that, fine.” You replied, grabbing your suitcase before starting to walk away, hoping to end the conversation with your action but nope, Alessia grabbed hers too, walking side by side with you.

“Oh, why was Lucy being annoying?” Alessia asked and you mentally screamed.

As much as you wanted to speak to Alessia, like you really really wanted to, you couldn’t.

Could you?

“Just being herself, you know?” You lied, definitely not being able to tell Alessia the truth.

“Y/N!” You hear Georgia shout from across the terminal and you let out a small thankful sigh, not loud enough for Alessia to pick up on it though.

“I’ll see you on the plane, okay? Bye less.” You smiled at her, before walking to Georgia who enveloped you in a hug.

——————

To say you had had the best weeks of your life was an understatement.

Smashing through the group stages and winning against Nigeria, the whole team had an excited buzz around them.

The only thing that could make the summer even better, was if you could just admit your feelings to Alessia.

Over the past weeks, you and her had grown closer and closer, and you were definite that feelings were there for her but you pushed them away, also definite that your feelings were wrong.

To celebrate the win against Colombia, the whole team decided to go out after the match.

It had started with you saying you weren’t drinking much, but with constant nagging from Lucy, Mary, and a few other girls to drink, you figured you might as well.

You deserved to and it also meant you could get them off your back.

Once you had your first drink, you expected to feel a bit tipsy and then that would have been time to head home.

However, what you didn’t expect to happen, was to be drunkenly taking Alessia back to your room.

Whilst at the bar, flirty and needy touches from both, you and Alessia, had occurred and you took Alessia’s hand in yours, leading her outside before planting your lips on hers.

“Stay in my room tonight.” You whispered in her ear, breaking your lips from her jaw.

Alessia nodded almost immediately, moving to look you in your eyes before pressing her lips on yours.

From that moment, you booked a taxi and eventually ended back at the hotel, you and Alessia the only ones there.

You led Alessia upstairs, not letting your lips off her.

As you entered the room, you pinned Alessia against the wall, moving your lips down her neck whilst her hands tangled themselves in your hair.

A small sigh escaped Alessia’s mouth, her grip in your hair tightening as you continued to attack the sweet spot on her neck.

“Fuck” she murmured, whilst you licked the sensitive, fast growing mark on her neck.

You grabbed ahold of the bottom of her shirt, pulling it quickly over her head, before reconnecting your lips with her body.

This time, instead of moving to her neck, you pressed your lips to her collarbone and down to her chest, just above where her bra sat.

“Move to the bed?” You questioned, pulling away from her body.

“Please.” She whined as you grabbed the back of thighs, lifting her up, effortlessly, and carrying her to the bed.

You placed her down in the centre of the bed before climbing above her.

“Fuck, you look so good beneath me.” You whispered in her ear whilst reaching beneath her to unclip her bra.

“Take this off.” Alessia told you, playing with the hem of your shirt.

You sat up, nearly ripping the shirt off you, your abs flexing at the cool air.

You watched as Alessia’s eyes trailed down your body to your abs, her eyes growing when she landed on them.

You smirked lightly before grabbing the top of her trousers, pulling down swiftly along with her underwear.

“Please hurry up.” Alessia mumbled, your mouth quickly attaching itself to her right nipple.

“Patience, pretty girl.” You told her, your voice husky which clearly affected Alessia because the moan she let out was almost pornographic.

Your tongue swirled around her nipple, your teeth often biting down gently to give her even more pleasure.

“Please, Y/N.” Alessia begged, and you lifted your head to look at her.

Her eyes were screwed shut, her head against the bed.

You locked eyes with hers once they opened, the blue that you’d fallen in love with was the only thing you could focus on.

“Are you sure you want this?” You asked, needing the confirmation before continuing.

“I want this, I’ve wanted this for a long time.” She revealed and you lowered yourself so you were in line with her pussy.

Planting teasing kisses to her inner thighs, you eventually thought it was time and connected your mouth with her mouth.

Alessia sucked a breath in as you made contact with her.

The whole experience was intoxicating for you.

The taste of her was intoxicating.

The smell of her was intoxicating, the perfume she wore was all you could smell.

Her laugh was intoxicating.

“You taste so good.” You moaned shamelessly into her pussy which made her buck her hips into your face.

You grabbed ahold of her thighs, keeping them in place whilst you continued to eat her out.

Your tongue took turns between going to her core and to her clit.

“I’m so close.” Alessia breathed out, her breath uneven and ragged.

You hummed in response, sending vibrations through Alessia’s body, moving her closer and closer to the edge.

The sounds escaping Alessia’s mouth made you feel like you were in heaven.

You felt Alessia’s pussy begin to clench so with a final lick you pulled away, leaving a very confused and angry Alessia.

“What? I was so close.” Alessia whined, out of breath.

“I know, pretty girl, but you’re gonna cum. I promise.”

You wiped your mouth, due to it being covered in Alessia’s juices, before leaning down to kiss her.

She moaned into the kiss due to her tasting herself.

As you deepened the kiss, you felt Alessia’s hand work its way to your abs, slowly tracing her fingers over them.

You smirked into the kiss, knowing how much she loved them.

“��m gonna flip you, okay?” You stated and switched your positions so now, head was against the headboard and Alessia straddled your hips, more so your torso.

She bucked her hips at the contact with your abs.

You grabbed ahold of her hips, slowly guiding her up and down your abs.

“That’s it, pretty girl.” You praised her as she started to pick up the pace of her hips.

Moans escaped Alessia’s mouth and she increased her speed.

With the sensitivity from the denied orgasm, you figured Alessia would cum quickly and as you expected, she did.

It didn’t take long for her to mumble that she was close.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Oh god — ‘m gonna cum.” Alessia nearly screamed, and at that point, you flipped her again so she was beneath you and you slipped your fingers into her.

You continuously pumped in and out of her, to push her over the edge.

Curling your fingers to a particular spot, she moaned for the final time and her legs spasmed around your arm.

“God, I love you so much. I’ve loved you for ages, Y/N. I’ve wanted your lips on mine for months.” Alessia revealed and your face turned white.

You were speechless.

You didn’t know what to think. Maybe it was just post orgasm talk. Or maybe it was the truth.

“And I’m not just saying that because you just gave me the best orgasm of my life. I really do like you, Y/N.” Alessia admitted.

Bingo. There was your answer.

Thoughts swirled through your head.

You liked her back. You know you do. But you couldn’t. You knew you couldn’t.

“I’m gonna get a clean cloth and I’ll help you clean up.” You told her, desperately trying to change the topic.

“Oh, okay.” Alessia said, the sparkle in her eyes disappearing which killed you to think that you were the reason for the action.

You promised yourself from that moment that you wouldn’t sleep with anyone, especially Alessia, until you were ready for an actual relationship.

Seeing Alessia hurt and confused killed you, and you didn’t want to experience that again.

You broke that promise though.

Following the win against Australia, the girls went drinking and Alessia ended up in your bed again.

It wasn’t planned and you didn’t intend for her to end there.

But similarly, you left her confused and hurt when you came up with an excuse for her to go.

You hated it.

You hated yourself for making her go through torture.

But most of all, you hated yourself for giving her mixed signals.

You ignore her when you walk past her, but then sleep with her.

You pretend like you don’t know her, but then sprint to her when she scores.

You show her that you don’t like her, but then show her that you love her.

You figured Alessia would snap at you at some point.

What you didn’t expect, was for her to snap at you at the worst time possible.

After the final and the loss to Spain, the team went out for a final time, hoping the drink would take away their emotions.

The night consisted of alcohol, dancing and jealousy.

The jealousy part in all the girls who were jealous of Spain for taking the win, but for you, it was a different type of jealousy.

Throughout the night, a bloke had made his way to Alessia, a flirty smirk resting on his face.

You saw Alessia smile back and within the space of a few hours, they’d gone from talking, to his hands resting on her hips as they danced.

You hadn’t realised just how jealous you were until Mary pointed it out.

“Mini Bronze, what’s with the frown and the red face? Angry are we?” Millie teased and the rest of the team agreed.

Instead of responding, you got out of your seat, stomping over to Alessia and the guy before pushing him away from Alessia.

“Get away from her.” You almost shouted as he pushed back.

“Why?” He snarled, harshly pushing you again. “Are you her girlfriend?”

“What if I was? Have a problem with that?” You squared up to him before he threw a punch.

You eyed him down, throwing a harder punch back.

You felt a pair of arms wrap around you and Lucy telling you to stop.

She separated you and the bloke before telling him to get out.

“What’s your problem?” You heard Alessia shout at you.

It took you, and the rest of the team, by shock at her shouting because she never raised her voice.

“You give me signs that you like me and then you ignore me! You fucking sleep with me, but then walk straight past me the next day. I like you Y/N! Why can’t you just tell me if you like me back? I just want an answer!” Alessia continued to shout.

You watched everyone’s jaws drop at the sudden reveal.

“I do. I do like you Alessia. I’ve liked you since Lucy and Kiera would come home talking about this climbs blonde striker. But I can’t love you. I can’t.” Your voice broke as you said the final sentence.

“Why? Why can’t you love me?”

“Because…” You were about to explain but remembered all the people who had surrounded you, including your big sister and all your teammates. “Can we go outside?”

Alessia nodded, and you both walked out the door and into the darkness that surrounded the bar.

“Why can’t you love me, Y/N, because I need to know. I need to know if you love me or not. Because I’m wasting my life waiting for you when potentially, you don’t even like me back.”

“I can’t love you because I loved Jana and she left me. I loved her and she said randomly one day that she didn’t love me anymore. I don’t want that to happen to us, because I love you too much Alessia. I think I loved you before I even met you. I don’t want to lose you and if that means staying friends, then so it stays.” You explained, Alessia’s face changing from anger to sympathy. “I wish I could love you Alessia, I really want to. But I don’t want any of us to get hurt.”

“I don’t care if I get hurt, Y/N. And I promise I won’t hurt you. I’d rather quit football than hurt you. I’d give up football in a heartbeat for you, and that’s telling you something. Please, let me love you.” Alessia said, inching closer and closer until she stated the last sentence against your lips.

“I’ll never stop loving you.” You whispered against hers before connecting them.

This time, the kiss was slow and full of love.

“I’m so sorry for everything, Less. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to confuse you.” You rambled as you pulled away from the kiss.

“It’s okay. I understand, I promise you, I understand. That’s in the past now.”

Alessia was true.

Jana and that experience was your past, Alessia was now your future.

[bradshawsbaby]

Love in the Air

Pairing: Rooster x Female Reader

Summary: You weren't expecting anything interesting or exciting to happen on your flight from Virginia to San Diego. But what happens when you decide to shoot your shot with the handsome stranger sitting in front of you on the plane?

Word Count: 12.5k

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to my dear friend, @ryebecca for giving me the idea for this one! I've been mulling it over in my brain for a while now, and the super adorable Netflix movie Love at First Sight gave me some much-needed inspiration to finally see it through to completion. This story exists outside of the Mr. & Mrs. Bradshaw Universe, which is sort of a first for me, so I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Travel anxiety, some very mild angst, discussions of parental death, brief language, lots of fluff.

If you had to rank your preferred modes of transportation, flying would probably be at the bottom of the list, beat only perhaps by public bus or bicycle. It seemed that no matter how hard you tried to make it as smooth and easy a journey as possible, your experiences at the airport always turned into one catastrophe after another.

Your flight this morning was supposed to take off at 9:30am, which meant that you had scheduled the start of your day to ensure that you would be at the airport no later than 7:15, accounting for traffic and long lines at check-in and security. That, of course, meant that you had to leave your best friend, Katie’s house in Fredericksburg at 5:45 on the dot in order to make the sixty-one mile trip to Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport, and that was being generous. If the two of you stopped for coffee—which Katie insisted was a must—that alone had the potential to derail your plans, which had you nervously fiddling with the bracelet you never took off, the one your dad had given you as a gift for your high school graduation.

“Relax,” Katie laughed, taking her eyes off the road for only a moment to reach out and squeeze your hands reassuringly, halting your anxious movements. “You’re going to get there with plenty of time to spare. There’s literally no one on earth who’s a more responsible flier than you. Have you ever even come close to missing a flight?”

“No,” you admitted sheepishly, taking a small sip of your hazelnut iced coffee. It did little to calm your nerves, but it was one of the best iced coffees you’d ever tasted.

“Of course you haven’t,” Katie smiled, her eyes back in front of her as she signaled to merge into another lane. “So just take a deep breath and enjoy all this gorgeous fall foliage. I’m going to get you there without incident, I promise.”

Katie knew better than pretty much anyone how much flying tended to stress you out. The two of you had been attached at the hip since the first day of kindergarten. Your friendship had survived all the ups and down of adolescence, boy drama, the separation of going to colleges hundreds of miles apart, heartache, loss, and so much more. She was truly the sister you never had, and you couldn’t be more grateful to have her in your life. Even now that you were living in San Diego, and Katie and her husband had moved to Fredericksburg, Virginia for Josh’s job, nothing could keep the two of you apart.

Using a little bit of the vacation time you’d accumulated at work, you’d taken a long weekend to fly out and surprise Katie for her and Josh’s housewarming party. It had been months since you had seen your best friend in person, and the two of you had spent the past few days acting like a couple of high schoolers, staying up all night eating junk food and keeping poor Josh awake with your loud and hysterical fits of laughter.

You hadn’t realized just how lonely you’d been, all by yourself in San Diego, until you’d witnessed up close how cozy and happy Katie’s life in Virginia was.

It wasn’t that you were jealous of Katie, not by any means. She and Josh had met in college, and you were thrilled that your best friend in the whole world had found her person, the one who was going to be there to hold her hand through life and love her through every up and every down. You had even shed a few happy tears when Katie had confided in you this past weekend that she and Josh were finally trying for a baby.

You weren’t jealous, but you desperately longed for what she had. While Katie and Josh had been happily in love since sophomore year, your love life had been decidedly marked by one failed relationship after another. The most painful of which had been your last boyfriend, Andrew. That breakup had been what had propelled you to accept the job offer that had taken you to San Diego almost a year ago.

“Screw Andrew!” Katie had told you as she’d helped you pack up your entire life into a few suitcases and boxes. “You’re headed to the Hottie Capital of America!”

“I must have missed that moniker on the travel brochures,” you responded dryly, although it was the first time you’d felt the urge to laugh in weeks.

“Um, hello, missy. It’s literally called ‘Fightertown USA,’” Katie said, stopping what she was doing to turn and face you, hands on her hips. “You’re going to end up with some sexy fighter pilot, and I am literally going to wither away with envy,” she giggled, winking at you.

“Yeah, right,” you smiled despite yourself, nudging her playfully.

“It’s true,” Katie sighed, feigning dramatics as she draped a hand across her forehead and swooned onto your bed. “I can see it now. You’re going to make the cutest little Marine or Navy wife.”

And yet, for all of Katie’s confidence, there you were, a whole year later, just as single as you had been when you’d first arrived in Fightertown.

It wasn’t to say you were completely on your own. You’d made some really good friends at work, and you got along with all of your neighbors. You’d even gone on a few dates with some guys from North Island. But none that ever went anywhere.

Spending the weekend with Katie and Josh, being reminded of just how in love the two of them were, made you wonder if it was ever going to be your turn.

“You okay?” Katie asked, breaking your silent reverie as she took the exit leading towards the airport in Charlottesville. It wasn’t necessarily the closest airport, but it was the only one for today that offered the flight you needed to get back home. “You seem so quiet.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” you nodded distractedly, smiling as you took another sip of your iced coffee. “Just a little tired, I guess.”

How could you possibly tell your best friend that seeing her happiness caused an ache inside your chest that hurt like nothing else you’d ever known? You couldn’t. It made you feel guilty enough just to admit it to yourself.

“Feeling a little nervous about your flight?” she pressed, reaching for her own iced coffee as the car came to a halt at a red light. “I know it’s long, and you hate connecting flights, but I stuck some Benadryl packets in your bag, if that helps at all. It sucks that you have such a hard time sleeping on planes.”

Smiling, you leaned over and pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek. What had you ever done to deserve such a good friend? And there you were, lamenting about all the things she had that you didn’t.

“You’re the best,” you told her sincerely, giving her shoulder a small squeeze. “I’m so glad I was able to get down here this weekend.”

Katie beamed brightly, reaching up to squeeze your hand before placing hers back on the steering wheel. “You’re telling me. It was the best surprise ever. I’m just sad I can’t keep you here longer.”

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised, trying to mentally calculate when you might be able to get time off from work again.

“Maybe you can come down for Christmas this year?” Katie suggested hopefully, glancing over at you with her big green eyes.

“Maybe,” you nodded, twisting your bracelet once more as you saw the signs for the airport approaching. “Or maybe I can fly you and Josh out to San Diego.”

“Oh, yes! Christmas on the beach? Sounds perfect,” Katie grinned, looking out for the sign for departing flights.

All too soon, Katie was pulling up in front of the Delta terminal where your flight would be taking off in just a few hours.

“See? Only 7:11! I got you here ahead of your insane schedule, even with the stop for coffee,” your best friend teased, a twinkle in her eye as she indicated the time on the dashboard.

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved her off, laughing out loud as she swatted your hand jokingly.

The two of you climbed out of the car to grab your luggage from the trunk. You’d done your best to pack lightly, which was never an easy task for you, even just for a weekend trip. But somehow, you’d managed to squeeze everything you needed into a carry-on bag. Well, that and a giant duffel that you were claiming was a purse.

“Ugh, goodbyes make me crazy,” Katie shook her head, clearly trying to hide the tears that were brimming in her eyes, which caused tears to spring to your eyes as the two of you reached for each other.

“I love you so much,” you told her, squeezing her tightly as she rocked you back and forth in her arms. “I’ll call you when I land.”

“Text me when you get to your gate,” she said, pulling back and taking your hands in hers. “And let me know if there are any cuties on your flight,” she added with a grin, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“I doubt I’m going to bag any cuties looking like this,” you countered sarcastically, indicating the yoga pants and oversized sweatshirt you’d donned that morning, as well as the messy bun you’d thrown your hair into.

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous no matter what,” Katie scolded you, swatting you on the butt. “Now get going. We wouldn’t want you being late or anything like that,” she joked.

You laughed as well, though your heart ached a bit as you grabbed the handle of your suitcase and began turning towards the doors of the terminal.

“Love you! Talk to you soon!” Katie called out, waving and blowing kisses.

You threw one more wave your best friend’s way, then disappeared inside the terminal, which was already fairly crowded despite the early hour.

As expected, despite the fact that you’d taken pains to get there early and make sure you were on top of everything, the unlucky cloud that seemed to follow you whenever you flew made its appearance once again.

You of course ended up on the slowest moving line at security, only to be heavily questioned by the TSA agent who seemed to be under the impression that you looked nothing like the photo on your driver’s license. Then, when you finally got to the security scanners, you set off the metal detector and had to be publicly groped by another sour-faced TSA agent. As if that wasn’t bad enough, your suitcase was “randomly selected” for extra testing and security checks.

Katie may have loved to tease you about it, but this was precisely the reason why you always left as early as you did to get to the airport.

By the time you were finally rolling your suitcase towards your gate, you were feeling more frazzled than ever. Naturally, the gate had changed since your boarding pass had been printed, and now you had to trek halfway across the airport to find the new one.

You wondered what it felt like to be one of those lucky travelers whose gate was right at the center of the terminal, right near all the restaurants and shops. It had never been you. Without fail, no matter where or when you were flying, your gate always ended up being at the farthest corner of the terminal.

When you finally arrived, triple checking that the gate number matched your flight information, you let out a heavy sigh as you grabbed an open seat at the end of the row. To your surprise, you found that you were seated right next to an open outlet. You never got that lucky.

Turns out, you really did never get that lucky. When you plugged your phone in, you found that it wasn’t charging. Evidently, the outlet was open because it didn’t actually work.

Muttering under your breath, you unplugged your charger and threw it back into your duffel bag. At least your phone was still on 74%. You’d much prefer to have it fully charged, but this would do until you could charge it on the plane.

Glancing down, you realized that you had missed a text from Katie.

At the gate yet???

Rolling your shoulders back and getting more comfortable in your seat, you opened up the message so that you could send a quick response.

Just got here. You’d think I was on the No Fly List with how long it took me to get here.

Katie must have made good time getting home, because it wasn’t long before your phone was buzzing with another text.

😂😂😂 Get yourself a drink!

Katie, it’s not even 9am…

So? A mimosa then!

You laughed, shaking your head. A mimosa didn’t actually sound like such a bad idea right now. Neither did a large iced coffee. But now that you’d finally made it to your gate, you didn’t feel like dragging all your stuff with you across the terminal once again. And you didn’t feel comfortable leaving your things behind, unattended or even in the care of a stranger. Maybe you’d just order one on the plane.

When your phone buzzed again in your lap, you looked down and saw that it was another text from Katie.

Any cuties to share that mimosa with???

You were about to text her back that right now, the only cuties you could see were an adorable four-year-old and an elderly couple who must have been in their eighties when suddenly, the most gorgeous man you had ever seen in your life appeared, as if out of thin air. You were suddenly glad you didn’t have a mimosa or an iced coffee in hand, for you were certain that you would have spit it out in shock upon seeing this guy.

Jaw hanging open and eyes widening, your brain was too fuzzy from lack of sleep to remind you that it was wholly inappropriate and rude to stare.

He truly had to be the hottest man you had ever seen up close in real life. Tall, with broad, thick shoulders and a muscular build. His hair was a golden brown that looked like it was touched frequently by the sun—as did his skin, which was an amusing combination of both tan and pink, as though he should have applied just a pinch more sunscreen than he had. Most surprising of all was the mustache that made your stomach do a strange little flip. You usually weren’t all that attracted to facial hair of any sort, and most guys couldn’t pull off the mustaches they tried to sport, but this particular mustache was the sexiest thing you had ever seen. And somehow, despite not knowing this man from a hole in the wall, you couldn’t imagine him without it. It was like it was a part of his DNA.

Thankfully, he was still staring down at his boarding pass, so he hadn’t noticed your intense scrutiny. Coming to your senses, you closed your mouth and quickly averted your gaze, your cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. How mortifying. Imagine if he had looked over and caught you staring at him, gaping like a fish out of water?

Still, despite your self-consciousness at the thought of getting caught, you couldn’t help but steal another glance in his direction, this time out of the corner of your eye. He looked even taller this time around. It probably had something to do with the way he carried himself, an easy confidence pouring off him. This man knew he was hot stuff, of that you were sure. But there was also something unassuming about him, something quiet and almost humble. He was dressed in a pair of dark sweatpants and an old UVA T-shirt, nothing fancy or flashy. Somehow, however, he managed to pull it off even better than a three-piece suit.

You were startled out of your observations when your phone buzzed again. It was Katie, emphasizing her last message impatiently.

Do you have some kind of magic powers that I was unaware of to make hotties appear out of nowhere? Right when you texted me, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen walked up to my gate.

‼️‼️ GO TALK TO HIM!!! ‼️‼️

At the mere suggestion of going to talk to that guy, your stomach erupted into butterflies. Looking up once again, you saw that he had evidently confirmed he was at the right gate, and had settled down in a seat a couple rows over, facing away from you. God, even the back of his head was handsome.

Are you crazy? This guy is seriously the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. I look like a homeless lady that wandered in off the street. I am NOT talking to him!

Your phone buzzed angrily a moment later.

Will you shut up before I drive back there to hit you upside the head?! YOU are gorgeous!!! Who cares if you have no make-up on and your hair’s in a messy bun? It’s called airplane chic! You’re still completely stunning. He would be LUCKY to have a girl as hot as you want to talk to him!

Chewing your bottom lip, you looked up again, trying not to be obvious as your eyes slowly wandered over the people at your gate, until they landed on him once more. He was on the phone this time, having an animated conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line. Occasionally, he would turn slightly in your direction and you could catch a glimpse of his side profile.

Damn, this man was seriously perfect from every angle.

“Alright, Mav, I’ll see you when I land,” you heard him say—not that you were trying to eavesdrop—before he hung up the phone and dropped it back onto his lap.

It was then that you noticed his phone was plugged into the outlet next to his seat.

Maybe this could be your opportunity? You could casually walk over and see if there were any other open outlets near his. Perhaps you could even make a joke about how it was just your luck that the outlet near your seat wasn’t working. Maybe he’d laugh and tell you some horror story from his travel experiences and the two of you would end up talking until you exchanged numbers. Maybe there was some tiny, infinitesimal chance that this stunning man would actually be charmed by you and possibly even the teensiest bit interested.

Or maybe you would just remain rooted to your seat, terrified to move as you stared at the back of his head.

You were already anticipating the text from Katie when your phone buzzed once again.

The reason you’re not answering me better be because you’re in the middle of a conversation with Mr. Hottie from your gate!!!

Biting down on your lip, you turned your phone over, not knowing how to tell your best friend that you were too much of a chicken to get out of your seat and approach this guy.

At that moment, however, you were suddenly saved, at least somewhat, when a member of the flight crew announced that they were about to begin boarding. Forgetting about Katie’s texts and the hot guy sitting several feet away from you for a moment, you began gathering together all your belongings, making sure you hadn’t forgotten anything.

When your boarding group was called, you did one final sweep around your seat, securing the strap of your duffel bag up on your shoulder and wrapping one hand around the handle of your carry-on before making your way to the line extending from the counter.

As you stepped up behind the elderly couple you’d noticed earlier, your boarding pass slipped out of your hand, floating through the air despite your best attempt to reach for it, and landing somewhere behind you.

Turning to find it, you nearly collided with the tall wall of man behind you, who was bending at the same time to grab it off the floor.

“Oh!” you gasped, startled to find that Mr. Hottie, as Katie had dubbed him, was not only standing behind you in line, but was also holding your boarding pass in his hand, glancing down at it.

“San Diego with a layover in Atlanta, huh?” he grinned, glancing from the boarding pass up to your face. Unsurprisingly, he had a beautiful set of whiskey-colored eyes that made your stomach do the same strange little flip that his mustache had induced. Oh, and up close, the mustache was even sexier.

“Oh, um, yeah,” you nodded dumbly, your tongue suddenly feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds as your brain short-circuited and couldn’t come up with a single worthwhile thing to say.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one,” Mr. Hottie went on, holding your boarding pass out to you. “Looks like we’ve got a long day of flying ahead of us.”

Mouth hanging open, you slowly reached out and took the boarding pass from him, trying frantically to think of something—anything—to say. He was flying to San Diego, too? You were on the same exact flight? Including the same layover?

“I—I—”

“Hey, the line's moving!” someone from the back called out, sounding annoyed.

Turning back over your shoulder, you were mortified to see that the elderly couple in front of you had disappeared and you were, in fact, holding up the line.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, ducking your head as you clutched your boarding pass and reached out for your carry-on. “Thanks again for grabbing this for me,” you told Mr. Hottie, waving your boarding pass slightly before turning and practically running towards the counter.

With his long stride, he caught up to you in no time, his smile friendly and warm as the two of you joined the line of people waiting to board the airplane.

“You weren’t holding anyone up,” he whispered down to you, as if it was some special secret the two of you were sharing. “I don’t know what that guy was in such a rush for. To move from that line to this one? We’re all getting out of here at the same time.”

You smiled at his words, feeling comforted by his reassurance. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Some people are just always in a hurry.”

The two of you were quiet after that, and you wondered if that would be the end of the conversation. You were casting around for anything else you could talk about when he suddenly asked you, “So are you leaving home or heading home?”

Your heart fluttered at his question. If he didn’t want to keep talking, he wouldn’t have asked that, right?

“Heading home,” you told him, fiddling shyly with your bracelet. You laughed softly. “It’s still kind of weird saying that. I’ve only been in San Diego for about eleven months.”

He raised his eyebrow, one corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. “Yeah? Well, I know I’m a little late, but welcome to Fightertown. I hope it’s been treating you well.”

“Oh, it has been,” you nodded, making sure to pay attention to when the people in front of you began moving forward. “I take it you’re heading home then, too?”

“I am,” he grinned, shouldering the backpack he was carrying with him. “Well, actually, I’m kind of leaving home and heading home,” he amended. At your curious look, he explained, “I’m from Virginia originally, but I live in San Diego now. I guess you could say I’m a transplant, just like you,” he added with a chuckle. “Are you from Virginia, too?”

“New York, actually,” you told him, as the two of you followed the flow of people towards the plane. “But my best friend and her husband moved to Fredericksburg recently, so I was spending the weekend with them.”

“Ah, that’s a nice area,” he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced down at you with a smile. At your unspoken question, he said, “I was actually down for a reunion weekend at my school. I went to UVA.”

“I gathered,” you replied teasingly, indicating his T-shirt.

Glancing downward, he shook his head and laughed. “Almost forgot I threw this on when I woke up. Trying to get to the airport on time is a real pain, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” you agreed with a laugh, adjusting your hold on your duffel bag. “Flying is definitely one of my least favorite modes of transportation.”

“Hmm, I don’t know if I’d say that,” he said in reply, an amused look on his face.

Before you could ask him what was so funny, however, you were being welcomed aboard the plane by the stewardesses, who were all smiling and indicating that they expected you to keep moving down the aisle.

Your heart dropped slightly at the abrupt end to your conversation. Now the two of you were going to go to your separate seats, and he’d probably forget all about you. It was one thing to make idle conversation with a stranger while on line, but you doubted he had any real interest in continuing the conversation beyond that.

Sighing softly, you rolled your suitcase down the aisle, pausing every now and then as the people in front of you put their bags in the overhead bins and got themselves sorted. When you finally reached Row 22, you stopped and looked back at Mr. Hottie with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, this is me. I’ll just be a minute,” you told him, pushing down the handle of your carry-on.

“No worries, this is me,” he grinned, indicating Row 21. “I even snagged the window seat,” he added with a wink.

Your mouth went dry. He had the window seat of Row 21. You had the window seat of Row 22. He was sitting directly in front of you.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he said, reaching for your carry-on bag and easily hefting it above his head, sliding it into the overhead bin for you. “Do you need me to put this one up there, too?” he asked, pointing towards your duffel bag.

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” you shook your head, holding onto the strap of your bag. “I’m going to keep this one with me. Thanks a lot,” you smiled, not even noticing the line of disgruntled people that was beginning to form behind the two of you.

“No problem,” he smiled, starting to slide into his row with his backpack still on his back. “Have a great flight.”

“You, too,” you replied, a little sadly, as you crawled into your row, doing your best to ignore the annoyed looks some people were throwing your way.

Needless to say, it was just your luck that the impatient man from the boarding line ended up sitting right beside you. You tried to smile at him, but he just grunted and put his headphones on, completely ignoring you.

Fine by you. Pulling your phone out, you found that you had a whole new series of texts from Katie, demanding to know exactly what was happening.

On the plane now. We should be taking off soon. I talked a little bit to Mr. Hottie. Are you happy?

It didn’t take long at all for her to respond. You could imagine that she had been sitting by her phone, waiting eagerly for your message.

Eeeee, yes, very! What did you guys talk about? Are you sitting near each other on the plane? Did you exchange numbers??? Send me a picture!!!

You laughed softly to yourself as you tried your best to answer all the questions your excited friend had asked you.

Just small talk. He’s actually flying home to San Diego, too. He went to UVA and was there for a reunion weekend. We did not exchange numbers and I’m not going to be a creepy stalker and take a picture of him, but he actually is sitting in the seat right in front of me.

OMG, IT’S FATE!!! So he has the same layover and everything??? And he’s FROM San Diego?! Babe, this is the guy for you!!! You’ve got to keep talking to him!

How would you suggest I do that? Just tap him on the shoulder and whisper into his ear the whole time?

It’s only a couple hours to Atlanta, and then you’ll have the layover, and then another four and half hours to San Diego. You could practically be engaged by the time you land! Just slip him a little note or something. Give him your number!

Your stomach was doing somersaults at the mere thought. Between the two of you, Katie had always been the more outgoing one. She would have no problem slipping a note with her phone number on it to a complete stranger, putting herself out there for the possibility of rejection and utter humiliation. You, on the other hand, preferred to play it safe. It was much more comfortable that way. And sure, maybe you’d never met your Josh the way Katie had, but at least you’d never been hurt too badly, right?

Unbidden, you thought of Andrew and felt bile rise in your throat.

Luckily, you were saved from having to answer Katie right away when the cabin crew made the announcement that it was time to shut down all electronics. Switching your phone onto airplane mode, you slipped it into the front pocket of your duffel bag and took a deep breath, buckling your seatbelt and closing your eyes.

Takeoff was your least favorite part of any flight. When you were a little girl, your parents used to make funny faces and sing silly songs to distract you from your terror. Even now as an adult who was flying all on her own, you still tried to remember the sound of their voices as the plane began its ascent.

It didn’t take too long before you were finally cruising at 18,000 feet and the captain turned off the seatbelt sign. Since you were a Delta SkyMiles member, you got free Wi-Fi on all your flights, so you immediately reached to turn your phone back on to let Katie know you had taken off safely.

As soon as your phone connected with the Wi-Fi, it was instantly flooded with a slew of text messages. A couple were from some of your friends back in San Diego, wishing you a safe and easy flight, but most were from your crazy best friend.

Don’t think you can use being on a plane as an excuse not to answer my texts!

I know you’re a SkyMiles member and you can see these messages!

You better answer me!!!

Shaking your head, you quickly tapped out a quick message in response.

Took off safely. Thinking of watching a movie before we land in Atlanta. You’re crazy and I am not slipping him a note.

Your phone was blessedly quiet for the next several minutes, and part of you hoped that Katie had given up this ridiculous notion. Knowing her as long as you had, however, you should have figured that wouldn’t be the case.

What’s the worst that could happen? He doesn’t answer you? The two of you never talk again? You’ve never seen this guy before in your life, and the chances are good that you’ll never see him again after this. So if you put yourself out there and it doesn’t work out, who cares? At least you tried. And sure, it might be a little embarrassing at first, but like I said, you’ll never have to see him again. But what if you thought about it the other way around? What if it DOES work out? What if this could be the start of something great? Would you really just want to walk away, wondering what could have been and regretting that you didn’t take a chance? You deserve to be loved so, so, SO much! And I know that you have so much love to give! This guy would be lucky if you chose him. Just give it a try, will you? For me? Please! You can’t see it, but I’m giving my best puppy dog face right now. And sending you all the best vibes! You can do this! I love you! ♥️

You groaned at your best friend’s heartfelt message. How could you possibly say no to that? You knew Katie just wanted the best for you, and she wanted you to be happy. You wanted to be happy, too. What if she was right? What if this was your chance? Would you be a fool to just walk away from it without even trying? Like Katie said, at least if you tried, you could say you’d done all you could. And if it didn’t work, then Mr. Hottie just wasn’t the one for you. No harm, no foul.

You were starting to feel like you might need to make use of the vomit bag tucked securely in the seat pocket in front of you when the stewardess stopped at your row to offer you all snacks and beverages. You gratefully accepted a can of ginger ale and a packet of pretzels, nibbling on them slowly in an attempt to settle your roiling stomach.

You were being an idiot. There was no reason to be so dramatic about all this. You could write a quick note and pass it up to him, then pretend it had never happened. Seriously, what was the worst that was going to happen? He was going to get up and make an announcement over the loudspeaker that the girl sitting in 22A was a pathetic, lonely loser? You doubted that very much.

Before you could lose your nerve, you reached into the front pocket of your duffel bag and pulled out the pen you always kept there. Turns out, it really did come in handy. Mercifully, the grumpy man beside you was already snoring, so you could write your note in peace without being worried about him seeing what you were doing.

Hand shaking slightly, you penned a quick letter to the handsome, charming man in 21A.

Hi there. I realized in all our talking that I never caught your name. But it might be good to know, seeing how we’re layover buddies and all. Hope you’re enjoying the flight so far.

You signed your name at the bottom, and then took a deep breath, reading over what you had written on the back of your Delta napkin. It sounded impossibly stupid, but you’d come this far and you weren’t going to turn back now. What was it that people on the internet were always saying? Something about shooting your shot?

Breathing through your nose to avoid getting sick, you reached out a trembling finger and lightly tapped the broad shoulder that you saw peeking out from the seat in front of you. You suddenly realized that he may have been asleep and panicked at the thought of waking him up, but he shifted immediately at your touch and you could tell that he was turning towards you.

Not wanting to meet his eye, you immediately thrust your napkin into the small open space between your seats and the windows, silently praying that he would take it from you instead of laughing in your face.

A second later, you felt his large fingers brush against yours as he took your little note, shifting in his seat once more so that he was facing front again.

What had you just done? Oh, God, there was still another hour left to go on this flight, then a layover, and another four and half hours to San Diego. True, you would never have to see him again after you landed in California, but that was still a lot of time left to have to be in proximity to him if all of this blew up in your face.

You were just about ready to launch yourself out of one of the emergency exits when you suddenly looked up and realized that there was a small white napkin hovering above your head.

Mr. Hottie in 21A was reaching back with your note in hand. Your stomach plummeted and your face and neck grew warm with shame at the thought of him returning the letter you’d written him, until you noticed the red ink on the back of it. 

You’d written your note in black ink.

Slowly reaching out, you took the napkin from his hand, your fingers brushing against each other once more. His were large and warm and calloused and made goosebumps rise on your arm.

Pulse beating rapidly, you turned over the napkin to see the response he had written on the back. His handwriting was a bit messy, more of a scrawl than anything, but it made you smile to look at it.

What was I thinking, not properly introducing myself to my layover buddy? Hope you can forgive me. My name is Bradley. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ve got some Wi-Fi on this flight, do you? If you do, feel free to text me. We seem to be dangerously low on napkins.

At the bottom, he’d written his cell phone number.

Pressing a hand over your mouth, it took everything in you to swallow back the squeal of delight that rose up your throat. It worked! Katie’s silly plan had actually worked! Oh, she was going to gloat about this forever when you told her.

Beaming brightly, you pulled out your cell phone. As much as you loved her, Katie could wait right now. You had an extremely gorgeous layover buddy to get in touch with.

Typing his number into your cell phone, you opened up a new message and contemplated what to say for a moment.

Layover buddies who both just so happen to have some inflight Wi-Fi? Clearly it’s meant to be.

You hoped the message came across as cute and flirty instead of desperate and weird as you hit send, anxiously waiting to see if he would reply.

It took only a moment before your phone buzzed, Bradley’s name lighting up your screen.

Layover buddies who both just so happen have some inflight Wi-Fi AND spring for the window seats? Obviously it’s meant to be!

You smiled and were about to think up a reply when another message suddenly came though.

Oh, and to answer your note—I’m enjoying the flight a lot more now.

The butterflies went crazy in your stomach as you wrote back to him.

Me, too. And that’s saying a lot, considering the four-year-old behind me hasn’t stopped kicking my seat since we boarded.

Bradley only took seconds to reply.

Oof, that’s rough. If I could switch seats with you, I would. But I have to admit that I’m very happy that you’re not kicking my seat.

Wouldn’t be too sure about that, you sent back teasingly before lightly nudging his seat with your foot.

Hey! I thought we were friends!

We’ll see 😉

You and Bradley went back and forth like that for the entire remainder of your flight to Atlanta, the banter light and easy as you teased and joked with each other. You even ended up playing a game of 20 Questions, in which you learned, among other things, that Bradley’s favorite color was red, he once broke his arm when he was seven years old, and he absolutely despised peas.

As the captain announced that you would soon begin preparing for your final descent, you shot off a quick message to Katie, who you had woefully neglected during your conversation with Bradley.

I owe you one. The pep talk and the plan actually worked—I’m texting Mr. Hottie as we speak! Update you soon. We’re about to land in Atlanta.

Just as you sent the message off to your friend, another text from Bradley arrived.

Looks like we’re going to have to turn off our phones, layover buddy. I’ll see you when we land. Food? I’m starving.

Grinning, you had to pinch yourself to check that this wasn’t some sort of elaborate dream.

Same. I’ll race you for some french fries.

You’re on.

When the plane finally landed and the captain turned off the seatbelt sign, everyone practically jumped out of their seats in a mad dash to see who could be the first to get their belongings out of the overhead bins. Since you and Bradley were in the window seats, you took your time, knowing you weren’t getting off the plane anytime soon.

You were surprised, however, when he suddenly popped his head over the back of his seat, grinning down at you. “Good thing our next flight doesn’t leave for a couple hours yet,” he said, indicating the crowd with a good-natured grin that made your heart melt.

You had almost been starting to think you’d exaggerated just how good-looking he was, but nope. He really was that hot.

“Plenty of time to grab those fries,” you laughed, smiling up at him.

When you and Bradley were finally able to step out into the aisle, he opened the bin above your head and reached for your suitcase.

“Let me take care of this for you,” he said, lowering it to the ground and lifting the handle so that he could wheel it up the aisle.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you insisted, not wanting him to think that you expected him to carry your things for you.

“Hey, what are layover buddies for?” he winked, leading the way off the plane.

Once the two of you were standing face to face in the middle of the airport terminal, you began to feel a little shy and self-conscious again. It had been easy to talk to Bradley via text, but now that you were gazing up at his handsome face again, you suddenly found yourself getting just as tongue-tied as before.

Bradley seemed to sense your nerves because he smiled warmly at you, his demeanor just as open and friendly as it had been the entire time you’d known him.

“How about we hunt down those fries?” he suggested, waiting until you smiled and nodded before turning and guiding you towards the main concourse.

The two of you ended up finding a quick and easy little fast food counter, where you ordered a couple burgers, a large order of fries, and some vanilla milkshakes with whipped cream and cherries. As soon as it became clear that Bradley was going to pay for both your meals, you tried to argue and insist on paying your share, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“My mom raised a gentleman, and she would kill me if she thought I was even thinking of letting my layover buddy pay for her lunch,” he told you, winking playfully as he handed his credit card to the employee behind the counter.

You took your suitcase from Bradley as he balanced the tray with your food in his hands, leading you to an empty table towards the end of the concourse.

“Your mom must be very proud of you, I’m sure,” you grinned, reaching eagerly for a fry and popping it into your mouth. “Did you get to see her while you were in Virginia?”

Bradley smiled, though his eyes suddenly looked a little sad. “Yeah. Yeah, you could say that.”

Deciding not to press the matter, you instead turned the attention to his college reunion. That led to the two of you happily swapping stories about your time in college, which landed you on the subject of what you do now.

“A naval aviator? Really? And a TOPGUN graduate? That’s very impressive,” you gushed, mentally picturing him in a flight suit. You’d gone on a couple dates with some naval aviators from North Island, but none as handsome or as charming as Bradley. You suddenly groaned and covered your face with your hand when you remembered what you’d said to him right before boarding the plane. “So that’s what you meant when I was saying that flying isn’t my favorite mode of transportation,” you murmured, feeling a little embarrassed.

Bradley threw his head back and laughed at that, looking genuinely amused. “Hey, I get it. Flying isn’t for everybody. Trust me, some days I wish I had just opted for a desk job,” he grinned, his muscles flexing as he stretched in his seat. “But there’s nothing quite like it, when you’re the one doing the flying. Maybe one day I can take you up in the air and change your mind.”

He looked across the table at you and held your gaze, and you felt sure in that moment that you would have promised him anything he asked.

“So what’s your call sign then?” you asked with a smile, resting your cheek in your hand as you looked into his eyes.

“Oh, you know about that, huh?” he chuckled, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Well, uh, they call me Rooster.”

You had a feeling he expected you to laugh—maybe other girls in the past had—but you just grinned brightly in response. “I like it,” you said simply. “It suits you.”

He let out a small breath and smiled in return. “Thank you. My dad’s call sign was Goose. So I guess it runs in the family.”

“Your dad is in the Navy, too?” you asked curiously, lifting your milkshake and taking a sip.

Bradley cleared his throat slightly, looking down at his lap. “He was. He died in a training accident at TOPGUN when I was two.”

You sucked in a breath at your own carelessness and looked across at Bradley with empathy glowing in your eyes. “Oh, Bradley,” you murmured softly, reaching out and resting a hand over his. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he replied gently, a small smile on his face as he placed his other hand over yours. “But thank you.” He was quiet for a moment before he went on. “It was just me and my mom for a while, back home in Virginia. But she got sick when I was in high school, and she passed away my senior year.”

“Bradley,” you breathed out sadly, your heart breaking for him. You winced when you thought of what he’d said before, about seeing his mom while he was in Virginia.

“She and my dad are buried in my hometown, where I grew up. I go to see them at the cemetery whenever I’m back in town,” he explained, as if reading your thoughts.

“I’m sure that means a lot to them, and that they’re smiling down on you always,” you told him sincerely, squeezing his hand lightly.

He smiled up at you, the sadness in his expression lifting slightly. “I like to think so. I think they’d like you a lot,” he added, then looked away. He suddenly seemed embarrassed.

The two of you sat back, disentangling your hands as you sat in mildly awkward silence for a moment or two.

“What about your parents?” Bradley asked, clearly looking for a way to change the subject. “Do they still live in New York?”

It was your turn to look sad now. “Well, we actually have a lot in common, Bradley. Only I guess my story is sort of in reverse. My mom passed away when I was six years old. She got in a car accident on her way home from work. And my dad passed when I was a freshman in college. Lung cancer.”

“Shit,” Bradley muttered, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You couldn’t have known. And it feels kind of nice talking about it with someone who I know understands. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Bradley nodded, his expression serious as his dark eyes rested on your face. “Yeah, I do.”

You and Bradley sat in companionable silence as you finished your meals, then checked to see how much time you had before your connecting flight.

“I guess we should start making our way over to the gate,” you suggested, glancing at the time on your phone. You had about ten text messages from Katie, but you were too embarrassed to open them anywhere near Bradley.

Bradley nodded in agreement, wordlessly taking the handle of your suitcase and leading you back across the concourse.

“Hey, we got so distracted talking about my job that I never even asked what you do,” he suddenly realized once the two of you were seated at your gate, both your phones charging in a nearby outlet.

“Oh, yeah,” you smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair that had escaped your bun behind your ear. “Funny enough, I actually work for the Midway Museum,” you told him, glancing up at him, only to find that he was already gazing down at you.

“No way! Guess we’re both stuck aboard aircraft carriers for work then,” he chuckled. “What do you do?”

“Well, my official title is digital content specialist,” you said, biting down on your lower lip. You felt like it always sounded a bit pretentious. “Basically, I help run the museum’s digital accounts—social media, their website, email blasts, things like that. My degree is in marketing and communications, so that’s basically what I do.”

“That’s amazing,” Bradley said, and you could tell that he genuinely meant it. Some guys just pretended to be interested in your job as a pretense for trying to get into your pants, but you could tell that Bradley actually cared about what you had to say. He was actually listening. “Is that what brought you out to San Diego?”

“It is, actually. I had been applying to a few different places, and when I got word from the Midway that they were interested in hiring me, I thought that maybe it was the fresh start I needed,” you confessed.

“Has it been?” Bradley asked quietly.

“I think so,” you nodded slowly, absent-mindedly twisting your bracelet around your wrist. “It’s hard sometimes, being so far away from my best friend, Katie—the one I was visiting. She’s pretty much the only family I’ve got left. But I like the life that I’m building in San Diego.”

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear it,” Bradley smiled, his hand lightly brushing against yours as he shifted in his seat. He looked like he was about to say more when the flight crew called your boarding group.

“Looks like we’re going to be sitting near each other again, 21A,” you teased, glancing down at his boarding pass as the two of you rose and grabbed your phones.

“Glad to hear it, 22A,” he joked in return, holding up his phone and waving it back and forth. “And now my phone is fully charged for our trip back to San Diego, so let the texting commence.”

Giggling, you nodded as the two of you walked down the rampway side by side and made your way onto the plane and to your seats without incident. When you got there, however, you saw that there had been some confusion with a young family that looked to have four children under the age of eight. It seemed as though their tickets had gotten split up so that they weren’t all sitting next to each other, and the mother was frantic.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Bradley asked, quickly taking stock of the situation. When the woman looked up at him, clearly stressed out and worried he was going to yell at her, he smiled comfortingly. “I was just going to say that, if you’d like, you can have my seat. I’d be happy to take yours since it looks like it’s next to my friend here anyway. That way, we can all be comfortable and sit with the people we want to sit with.”

“Oh, thank you!” the young mother exclaimed, looking ready to hug Bradley. “Thank you!”

She and her husband quickly got their children settled, thanking Bradley a few more times for good measure, while he took your carry-on and set it in the overhead bin.

Once you had settled in your window seat, Bradley took the seat beside you, grinning impishly.

“Look at that. Now we don’t even need to waste the Wi-Fi,” he murmured, nudging you playfully.

“Things just have a way of working out for us today, don’t they?” you laughed, settling your duffel bag at your feet. “I’m just going to send a quick message to Katie, to let her know I made it onto my connecting flight,” you told him, reaching for your phone and quickly opening Katie’s messages so that Bradley wouldn’t see them.

“Good idea, I should text Mav,” Bradley said, grabbing his phone out of his pocket. At your confused look, he explained, “My godfather. He’s also in the Navy, and he also just so happens to be stationed out in San Diego. He’s going to pick me up at the airport.”

Nodding, you sent a brief text to your best friend, promising you would call her as soon as you got home, then settled in for the flight and tried to get as comfortable as possible.

As soon as you felt the plane jolt to life and begin taxing towards the runway, your chest grew tight and your grip on yours and Bradley’s shared armrest started to turn your knuckles white.

“Hey,” Bradley said softly, genuine concern in his voice as he glanced over and noticed how on edge you suddenly appeared. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lied, keeping your gaze fixed straight ahead on the screen in front of you, which was currently playing some Delta commercial that your brain could scarcely register.

“I think your death grip on our armrest would suggest otherwise,” he pressed gently, his tone remaining light and good-humored. “You trying to take that thing with you?”

Startled, your nervous trance was broken and you glanced down to see what Bradley was talking about. Sure enough, your nails were digging into the armrest so intensely that you wouldn’t have been surprised if they left little crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

Letting out a shaky laugh, you looked up at the man beside you ruefully. “Okay, truth be told, I get a little anxious during takeoff,” you confessed, biting your lip in embarrassment. He would probably think that was silly. He was a fighter pilot, after all. His day job involved flying multi-million dollar aircrafts for the military. And here you were, acting like a scaredy cat over a commercial Delta flight.

Bradley’s eyes crinkled in a way that you found devastatingly charming as he smiled over at you. The look on his face was kind, without a single trace of mocking humor.

“Want to know a secret?” he whispered, leaning in closer to you so that his nose was nearly pressed against your cheek and you could feel his breath on your skin. “So do I.”

“You’re kidding,” you scoffed, shooting him a skeptical look. He was probably just trying to be nice. “But you’re a naval aviator!”

“Yeah, but I’m not the one flying this plane, am I?” he retorted with a lopsided grin. “It’s hard to put the reins in someone else’s hands. So I understand being nervous. Hell, I still get a little nervous sometimes when I’m flying an F-18. Just don’t tell anyone I said that,” he added, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Oh, of course not,” you giggled, smiling over at him. Glancing out the window, you realized that his conversation had distracted you so much, you hadn’t even noticed that the plane had finished its approach towards the runway and was officially waiting for takeoff.

Some of your nerves returned, and you gripped the armrest once more, but this time, you felt Bradley’s large, yet gentle fingers close over yours. Surprised, you turned your head sharply and instantly met his gaze. It was direct and disconcertingly open as he looked deeply into your eyes.

“It’s okay,” he assured you in a low voice, squeezing your fingers comfortingly. “We’re going to be okay.”

“My parents used to sing to me during takeoff,” you found yourself blurting out suddenly, your cheeks growing warm at the admission. “I can remember my mom doing it when I was a little girl, and my dad used to do it for me even when I was in high school,” you explained shyly, lowering your eyes to your lap.

At that moment, your stomach dropped as the plane suddenly began hurtling forward, seeking enough momentum to become airborne.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to recall the sound of your parents’ voices in order to calm your racing heart. But a new voice suddenly entered the mix as you felt your newfound flying buddy lean across the armrest, his warm body pressing against your side as he sang quietly in your ear.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain…”

Wait a second. You knew that song. Where did you know that song from?

“Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will, but what a thrill…”

Yes, you definitely knew that song. It was on one of the records your parents used to play when you were a little girl. Was it Jerry Lee Lewis?

Gasping in recognition, you whisper-sang the next lyric in harmony with Bradley—“Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!”

He laughed in delight when you began singing along, squeezing your hand with an affectionate grin. “And would you look at that,” he said, nodding towards the window. “We’re airborne. Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Shocked, you followed his line of vision and were taken aback to see that you were already ascending into the clouds, leaving the city of Atlanta far behind. That had been one of the smoothest takeoff experiences you’d had in—well, you couldn’t even remember how long.

“I barely even noticed!” you exclaimed, focusing your attention back on Bradley. You smiled gratefully, your heart melting at the adorable puppy dog look on his face. “Thank you, Bradley.”

You noticed at that moment that he still hadn’t let go of your hand, and your pulse began to quicken, but this time for entirely different reasons.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured in response, his voice low and suddenly husky. It did something to you, that deep, raspy voice of his. “Happy to do it.” He squeezed your hand gently once more, then slowly—almost hesitantly—let it go.

“I haven’t heard that song in the longest time,” you told him, resting back against your seat. “My parents used to listen to it.”

Bradley smiled slightly. “It’s the one song I can actually remember my dad singing. He loved to sing and play the piano. My mom had tons of home videos of him doing it. But that song—that song I can actually remember hearing him sing, you know? I was so young when he—well—I can remember that one. And that’s why it’s my favorite to sing and play.”

“You play the piano, too?” you asked, impressed. “Wow, a man of many talents.” You nudged him playfully, a big smile on your face.

“I’ll have to show you what I can do,” Bradley replied, winking.

Your stomach fluttered at the implication that he might actually want to see you again after today.

“I’d like that,” you admitted, ducking your head shyly. You suddenly felt much more aware of everything around you, particularly every inch of your muscular seatmate. Goodness, he really was huge, wasn’t he? Chewing nervously on your bottom lip, you began fidgeting with your bracelet, tugging at it absent-mindedly.

“That’s a pretty bracelet,” Bradley commented, pointing at it as he watched you twist it back and forth around your wrist. “A gift?” he asked lightly, his tone almost a little too casual.

“Mhm,” you nodded, smiling fondly as you gazed down at it. You could still remember the day you opened it. “My dad bought it for me as a present when I graduated high school. I never take it off.”

“Ah,” Bradley nodded, appearing surprisingly relieved. He was quiet for a moment or two, looking like he was mulling over something. Then he turned towards you and asked, “So, um, is there anybody waiting for you in San Diego? Anyone, uh, special, I mean?” he asked, his cheeks and his ears turning red as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You felt your own skin grow warm in response. Was Bradley asking if you had a boyfriend? And was he embarrassed about it? Just when you thought this man couldn’t possibly charm you any more than he already had.

“Not unless you count my neighbor, Mrs. Flores. She really appreciates it when I walk her dog on the weekends,” you told him, your lips twitching as you tried to maintain a straight face.

Caught off guard by your response, Bradley let out a loud laugh, covering his mouth with one hand as he glanced down at you, eyes twinkling.

“I’m sure Mrs. Flores will be very happy to see you back again,” he nodded, tapping his fingers on his tray table.

The two of you sat in silence for a couple minutes until you finally glanced up and said, “I had actually just gotten out of a long-term relationship right before I moved to San Diego. It was kind of the catalyst for why I decided to take the job at the Midway Museum.”

“Oh, really?” Bradley asked, eyebrows shooting up. Then he cleared his throat, shaking his head. “I mean, I’m sorry to hear that. If it’s too personal, we don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, it’s okay,” you sighed, twirling your bracelet a few times as you thought back on your last failed relationship. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as much as it normally did. Maybe time really did heal all wounds. You took a deep breath before you elaborated. “Andrew and I were together for four years. For a long time, I really thought he was the one. Katie was convinced that he was going to propose on our trip to Greece. It was a dream vacation for me. I had the whole thing planned out for months and months. And I really started to let myself believe that it was going to happen.”

Bradley sat quietly, watching you carefully as he attentively took in every word you uttered.

“We were in Athens, and I had the whole day planned—all these tours and museums. But Andrew insisted that he was too tired since we had just traveled from Rhodes, and he begged me to let him stay behind at the hotel. Being the idiot that I am, I thought that maybe he wanted to put the finishing touches on his big proposal. So I went on the tours by myself. But the last tour ended early, so I came back to our hotel room a little sooner than expected.”

Your throat began to tighten as the story continued, the pain of what had happened next eclipsed only by your embarrassment that Bradley would soon know how pitifully your last relationship had ended. Why had you brought all this up?

“I’ll spare you all the details, but suffice it to say, I found Andrew in bed with one of the cocktail waitresses from the hotel bar. And to no one’s surprise, there was no ring and he never had any intention of proposing. So I flew home from Greece minus a boyfriend and with very little remaining of my dignity. Leaving everything behind and starting fresh in San Diego seemed like a really good idea, so when the Midway contacted me, I jumped at the offer. And here I am,” you finished with a self-conscious laugh, shrugging your shoulders awkwardly.

Bradley didn’t say anything at first, just continued to stare at you in a way that had you feeling distinctly exposed. Your fingers immediately went to your bracelet once again, nervously fidgeting and waiting for him to say something.

Reaching out, he placed his hand over yours and stilled your movements gently. “First of all,” he began slowly, looking directly into your eyes. It seemed as though he was peering directly into your soul. “Andrew is a complete and total loser. If he didn’t know what he had in you, then he never deserved you to begin with. It’s his loss, and trust me, he’ll be regretting it for the rest of his life if he has even an ounce of sense.” His thumb brushed lightly against your knuckles, making your legs suddenly feel like Jell-O. “Second of all, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that, and I hope you know that the way that idiot treated you in no way says anything about you. I’ve only known you for a few hours, but I can see that that guy never deserved you to begin with.”

Feeling bashful, you lowered your head, trying to escape the intensity of Bradley’s dark eyes. It didn’t matter though—you could still feel his gaze.

“You don’t have to say that,” you murmured, not wanting him to think you had just unloaded all of this on him for sympathy points.

“I’m not just saying it,” he insisted, his voice serious. “You’re a special girl, and you deserve to be with someone who treats you that way.”

Someone like you?

The thought sprang unbidden to your mind, causing you to grow flustered. “Th–thank you,” you stammered, worried for half a second that Bradley could actually read your mind.

You were saved from having to make any further comment in that moment when the stewardess suddenly appeared with the food cart, asking you if you wanted any snacks or beverages.

You opted for a Diet Coke and popcorn, while Bradley took a Sprite and a bag of potato chips.

“What do you say? A little toast to my new flight buddy?” Bradley suggested teasingly, holding his can of soda out towards you.

You couldn’t help but smile, lightly tapping your can against his. “Cheers to us,” you laughed, taking a small sip.

“To us,” Bradley grinned. “You know,” he went on, after taking a gulp of his Sprite, “if you ever want to think about getting your pilot’s license, I’d be happy to have you as my wingman—er, woman.”

You laughed aloud at the notion, shaking your head. “Um, did you already forget about how well I handled takeoff? I’m not so sure anyone would trust me behind the controls of a plane.”

“I could teach you,” he shot back, waggling his eyebrows until you laughed again. “Or at the very least, take you up for a little joyride. I’d make sure to keep you safe.”

Your heart warmed at his words, and you found yourself wondering what it would be like to walk through life with this man, to have him be the one you came home to every day.

To have him be the one to make you feel like the most special girl in the world.

“I would like that,” you confessed, pushing your self-consciousness to the side as you looked into his eyes. “I would like that a lot.”

“So would I,” Bradley replied, his expression earnest.

For the next hour or two, you and Bradley shared some of the snacks you’d packed in your duffel bag and talked about everything and nothing at the same time. You had never felt so instantly at ease with someone who had been a complete and total stranger just a few hours earlier. The fact that he had been in San Diego all this time, right under your nose, and that it had taken a flight home all the way from Virginia for you two to actually meet felt like more than just a coincidence. It felt like this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

At some point, you must have finally succumbed to your exhaustion and fallen asleep because when the captain announced that you were making your final descent into San Diego International Airport, you were lifting your head off Bradley’s shoulder and blinking in confusion.

“Hello there, sleepyhead,” Bradley grinned, wiping a hand down his face and rubbing the sleep out of his own eyes.

“How long was I asleep?” you asked, stretching your arms over your head. “I never sleep on planes.”

“Well you definitely slept on this one. I’d say you were probably out for at least an hour and a half,” he told you, running a hand through his hair, which made his sunkissed curls stand on end. “I nodded out, too. Guess we both needed it, huh?”

“Yeah, guess so,” you nodded, smiling at him.

By the time you finally deplaned—after Bradley, of course, had insisted on taking down your carry-on suitcase from the overhead bin and rolling it through the airport for you—you were growing both eager and anxious with anticipation of what the end of your journey would look like.

You and Bradley technically already had each other’s phone numbers, so should you say something about getting together? Would that seem too brazen? Should you just text him tomorrow and hope that whatever spark had been ignited during your travels today wouldn’t be extinguished by the time you both got home?

All of those thoughts and more were running through your head as you and Bradley took the escalator down to baggage claim and the terminal exit.

“Do you, um, do you have somebody picking you up?” Bradley asked as the two of you stepped off the escalator. He stepped to the side to avoid the flow of the crowd, and you stepped with him. “Mrs. Flores perhaps?” he added with a teasing spark in his eye.

“No,” you giggled, shaking your head. “I was just planning to call an Uber.”

“No need,” he said, his chest puffing out ever so slightly. “Mav and I will give you a ride home. He should actually be here already,” he mumbled, almost to himself, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his messages.

“Oh, you guys don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want you going out of your way,” you hurried to tell him, noticing that Bradley still had his hand on the handle of your suitcase.

“Who says it would be going out of our way?” Bradley retorted with that impossibly charming smile of his. “Unless, of course, you’re more comfortable taking an Uber. I don’t want to make you feel like—”

“No, no, you’re not,” you interrupted, wanting to make it clear to him that you appreciated the offer.

Seemingly at an impasse, the two of you just looked at each other and started laughing.

“I would love a ride, thank you. If it’s not too much trouble,” you told him.

“Never,” Bradley insisted. “Besides, you put up with me all day. I owe you.”

“I could say the same thing,” you grinned, reaching into the front pocket of your duffel bag and pulling out your cell phone. “In the meantime, I should text Katie and let her know I landed safely and that you haven’t abducted me or anything,” you teased jokingly.

Too late, you realized your mistake.

“Ah, so you told Katie about me, huh?” Bradley smirked, looking just a tad too pleased with himself. “What did you say?”

“Oh, um, nothing, just that I made a friend while traveling,” you stammered in humiliation, your cheeks feeling like they were on fire. “I’m just, um, I’m going to step over there while you get your bag.”

“Sure, sure,” he laughed, winking at you as he hurried over to the baggage carousel to search for his suitcase.

“Oh my God, how stupid are you?” you muttered to yourself, mentally kicking yourself for your careless words as you sent off a quick message to your best friend to let her know you were alive.

A moment later, she texted you back.

YOU BETTER CALL ME THE MINUTE YOU GET HOME!!! I WANT EVERY. SINGLE. DETAIL!!!

Smiling, you dropped your phone back into your bag and looked up to see Bradley walking towards you, his suitcase in hand.

“Ready to head out?” he asked with a smile, watching as you grabbed the handle of your carry-on and did one quick scan to make sure you hadn’t dropped anything.

“Ready,” you nodded, following him outside to where a slew of Ubers and other cars were waiting to pick up their passengers.

“There’s Mav,” Bradley told you, pointing with his free hand towards the end of the pick-up line, where a handsome older man with dark hair and an easy smile was waving at you.

“Your godfather drives a Porsche?” you asked, your eyes nearly bugging out of your head at the sight of the vintage car. It was in pristine condition and you were certain it must have cost a small fortune.

“Technically, it’s his fiancée, Penny’s car, but she lets him drive it when he’s been good,” Bradley joked, resting a gentle hand on your back as he guided you through the crowd.

Bradley was quick to embrace his godfather when the two of you finally reached the Porsche, slapping him on the back before stepping back and holding out a hand to you. “Mav, I’d like you to meet my new travel buddy,” he grinned, introducing you by name.

Mav, as Bradley kept calling him, offered you one of those easy smiles as he held out his hand, which you took with a smile of your own.

“Ah, so this is the girl from the plane I’ve been hearing so much about,” Mav smirked, shooting a pointed look in his godson’s direction.

“Mav!” Bradley hissed through gritted teeth, his complexion instantly turning pink, even in the shade.

“Ah,” you smirked, feeling vindicated from your earlier blunder. “So you told Mav about me, huh?” you asked, nudging his side. “What did you say?” you teased, tossing back his question from before.

“Oh, he said plenty,” Mav jumped in, clearly enjoying watching Bradley squirm as he opened the passenger side door for you.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s crazy. All those Gs he’s always pulling have finally gone to his head,” Bradley protested, although he was smiling as he said it.

“Oh, I think I’m going to enjoy this car ride very much,” you giggled, winking at Bradley as you slid into your seat.

“Promise you’ll still like me by the time we get home?” Bradley whispered, leaning in close as he climbed in beside you.

You grinned up at him, thinking about how, for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so alone. San Diego suddenly felt much more like home than it ever had.

“Promise.”

[korcariqueen]

A Second Shot ~ Logan Howlett x Fem! Reader

Content - Worst! Wolverine needs to take a break from the chaos of the apartment and goes to find a bar. Lucky for him he walks in to the one you work at.

A/N - Thank you so much for the love already. All the likes, comments and reposts have been so encouraging. I'm gonna go ahead with writing a full series. Like I said before this will be more adult 18+. Ya know sex, violence, swearing. All the good stuff 😂 stay tuned ❤️❤️❤️

Hi 👋 this is my first fic. Please comment if you like or have improvements. I have an idea to make this in to a full series that would be more 🌶 adult. Let me know if any of you are interested in reading that. Warning: Slight swearing

Logan needed to get out of the apartment. Wade and Peter had started to brainstorm the rebirth of X-Force 2.0, which Wade promised would be at least 40% less lethal than its predecessor. And for unknown reasons the ‘brainstorming’ included multiple whiteboards and creating a practice plane to ‘stick the landing unlike last time’. The ensuing DIY project caused Laura to barge out of her room, screaming at Wade about the noise. The merc with the mouth then thought it was wise to make a ‘menies’ joke. Not surprisingly Laura launched herself on the man, claws out.

I’m too sober for this.

That was enough for Logan to grab his leather jacket and head for the door. Logan walked down the busy New York streets. It was late September, the night was chilly with light rain splattering on the sidewalk. Logan was surprised by how lively the streets were for the time of night, before remembering it was a Friday. He wondered how long it had been since he was sober enough to remember the day of the week. He continued down the street, silently taking in the bustle. Taxi drivers were hitting the horns like they were paid by the noise. Young couples were making out in darkened alleys, lost in their own world. Logan smirked to himself. God when was the last time he did that? He shook the urge to wander down memory lane. He passed a few bars, neon lights flickering invitingly. He peered in. Bachelorette party. Could be fun but he just wanted a quiet drink tonight. Another. Karaoke night. Logan winced at the off tune, drunken singing. Heightened hearing had its downsides. Every bar and pub seemed packed with drunken revellers, ready to enjoy their night and invite the weekend with a killer hangover.

Logan was ready to give up and head back, knowing full well that Wade and Laura had probably destroyed the apartment, when he glanced across the street. A small bar, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the street. ‘Sammy’s Bar’, adorned the sign above the door. Logan focused his hearing. There was definitely people in there but it sounded quiet enough. He crossed the road and walked down a few steps to the wooden door, before pushing it open. 

He stepped inside, the smell of hard liquor wafted in the air. The place was a decent size, something you wouldn’t be able to tell from the street. The space was dimly lit, a few old looking sconces dotted the far left wall above booth seating. A few people sat there, engrossed in hushed, alcohol soaked conversations. Small round table seating were dotted around the open middle section of the bar, their patrons loudly arguing over politics as the few ancient looking chandeliers above swayed slightly with the roar of traffic outside. On the far right stood the solid wood bar with a few high stools lining it, with a couple of people sitting watching a boxing match on the TV in the right corner. The bar had a few beer taps, the usual stuff and a few European beers. Logan rolled his eyes before catching the well stocked liquor on the wall. This will have to do. Logan walked to a vacant stool by the bar, next to a greying older man nursing his drinking and quietly reading a book. Shrugging off his jacket and lightly shaking off the droplets of rain that clung still to it. 

“Be there in sec.” called a voice from one of the tables. Logan grunted in response as he sat at the bar. He propped his forearms on the worn wood, interlocking his fingers. Bar must’ve been here a while judging by the wear of the wood. His eyes began to trace the scratched names on the surface. “Josh was here”, “For a good time call Chloe” “Kenny hearts Lisa”. He heard the hurried footsteps of the bartender rounding the bar to stand in front of him.

“So what can I getcha?,” came the cheerful voice. 

Logan lifted his head, “A double of..” His voice caught in his throat as his eyes widened slightly. You stood there with a bright smile adoring your face, head slightly cocked to the side. You looked to be in your late 20s, early 30s if he had to guess.Your hair was up in a high ponytail and you wore a black t-shirt that hugged your figure. Logan glimpsed your slightly loose jeans. Comfortable for working in a bar. 

“Ahem” Logan cleared his throat. “A double of Jamesons, neat. Thanks.”

“No problem. Coming right up.” You flashed him another stunning smile.

Oh fuck.

You pulled out a small step to help you grab the whiskey from the shelf. Your t-shirt riding up slightly showing off the small of your back and waist. Logan wondered what it would feel like to grip your waist as he- 

“Pipe down old man” Logan mentally scolded himself. You hoped for the step stool, whiskey in hand and began to pour his drink. You chatted with the, what he assumed to be, regulars sitting beside him; laughing and commenting on the match they were watching. 

God, even your laugh was beautiful.

“There you are”, you said as you placed Logan’s drink in front of him.

“Thanks.” He managed to muster without his voice cracking like a kid whose balls hadn’t dropped. He took a slow sip, letting the warming amber liquid melt his day’s stress away. 

“So I haven’t seen you around. We don’t get many new faces here.” You offered idle chat as you cleaned the bar around you.

“Urm no. Not been here before.” Logan offered in response.

“New in the neighbourhood?”

“Yeah you could say that” You have no idea.

“Well, welcome to our neck of the woods. Umm?” you asked.

“Logan. Thanks. Sammy?”

“Oh no.” You laughed, placing your hand on your chest. “ No Sammy’s my boss and owner of this fine establishment. I’m [Y/N]” you offered your hand to shake. Logan took it, his giant hands enveloping yours. He could have sworn he heard your breath hitch slightly at the contact and feel your heartbeat a little faster. You quickly retract your hand, Logan smirking slightly at your sudden awkwardness.

“Well Logan I’m happy you found us.”

“Yeah, most of the places ‘round here got too many people. Way too loud.” Logan said as he took another sip of his drink.

“Yeah. That’s why most of the old timers like it here…” Your hand flew to your open mouth as you realised what you had said. “I mean not you obviously.” you stuttered as you tried to recover your accidental insult. “I mean like the older guys like a quieter ambience you know like Leonard is always complaining about how those places you can’t hear yourself think” You are tripping on your words as your brain goes into overdrive. “Not saying you have the same issues as a 65 year old man!” Logan couldn’t help but laugh at your attempts to salvage your blunder. 

“I’m older than I look, darlin,” he says with a coy smile, glass still hovering at his lips.

“What? No you can’t be much older than me. Definitely under forty!” you stuttered out, still frazzled.

Logan's smile spread into a toothy grin. He was enjoying how flustered you were. 

“Hey [Y/N]! Another one when you’re done flirting with the new guy.” A man on the far side of the bar shouted, holding his empty pint glass.

“Shut up Leonard!” you yelled back. The man, Leonard, laughed in response. “Well I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough. I’ll leave you to your drink, Logan.” You gave a quick embarrassed smile as you hurried off to see to the other patrons. 

Logan let out a small laugh as could hear you scolding the man he presumed was Leonard. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Oh come on I’ve never seen you get all jittery before. Besides, you looked like you were drowning out there. What the hell did you even say to him” 

“Nothing! Just drop it or I’ll tell Martha you were here last Thursday when you were ‘working late at the office’.” you snapped back, glaring at the man. Leonard put his hands up in surrender, quietly conceding. 

[Y/N] quickly glanced over at Logan to see if witnessed the exchange. Logan kindly dropped his head, pretending to be fascinated by his glass. You let out a small relieved sigh, before leaving the bar to clear some tables. Logan lifted his head back up, making eye contact with Leonard across the bar. The man gave him a wide smile, lifting up his glass in a silent cheers, clearly enjoying how flustered he made their favourite bartender. Logan mirrored the action with his whiskey glass before taking another sip. 

The old man in the stool next to Logan began to stand up, closing his book and placing a few dollars on the to pay his tab. Grabbing his coat, he called out to you, “I’m off now [Y/N].” 

You turned, smiling at the man, “Okay Kenny. You take care. Bring Lisa next time, I miss her.” 

“I will. Night” The rest of the bar called out their goodbyes to the man as he finished putting on his coat. He began to walk past Logan before he stopped. Logan shifted slightly in his seat toward the man.

In a hushed tone “She works here most nights.” He flashed Logan a knowing smile and wink before donning his flat cap and walking out the bar. 

Logan couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head. Yeah this will definitely need to be a regular spot, especially if it means being served by a certain beautiful bartender. 

[btsgotjams27]

don't push your luck | knj

you’re asked to present at an important meeting, but of course, your rival has to come along for the ride.

✨ title: don't push your luck | one-shot ✨ pairing: namjoon x f!reader ✨ genre/au: angst | ex college rivals, e2l, co-workers, one-bed trope ✨ rating: pg-18 | ✨ word count: 6.4k ✨ warnings: language, joon loves to call reader a lot of pet names, suggestive language, they're both kinda jerks to one another, they've also known each other for a long time (and slept together once), both are literary agents, mentions of surgery and cancer, banter, mentions of alcohol, they sleep in the same bed, there is a small hug, reader has misconceptions of joon, did i mention angst?, reader likes to blame namjoon for her shortcomings ✨ a/n: hi--so this was originally supposed to be out for joonie's birthday lmao and here it is a few weeks later. don't be afraid to let me know what you think. i love hearing from readers.

“Hold the door!”

A heaving sensation fills your chest and you feel out of breath. Everything you could imagine going wrong before a flight happened—your alarm wasn’t set, the Uber arrived late and hit every traffic light, security ‘needed’ to rifle through your suitcase for suspicious items, and the stupid expensive carry-on you purchased has given up on you.

“You made it just in time,” the attendant smiles and scans your plane ticket.

“Oh, thank god.”

You’re grateful to be in first class and now you can finally relax. It’s even better when you look at your row and the seat next to you is empty. There are a few glares from other passengers, but you don’t care–you’ve made it, and that’s all that matters.

When you settle into your seat, you check your phone for any last-minute work emails. The flight attendant announced the plane was ready to taxi for take-off. They ask everyone to be seated and buckled.

As you’re ready to plug your earbud in, you hear a muffled bang from behind. Peering over your shoulder, you realize you’re in the row before the bathrooms. Great, you think, that’ll be fun. You can hear clinking and clanking from the bathroom door along with someone shuffling out as the door slam shuts.

“Sir, please take your seat. We’re ready for take-off,” the flight attendant says.

The man clears his throat. “Oh, yes, of course. My seat’s right here.”

You look up to see none other than the person who has become the bane of your existence, Kim Namjoon. They say keep your friends close, but your enemies closer and he loved to be so close to you alright–everywhere you are to be exact.

Your jaw clenches as he plops down beside you. A few seconds later, a woman emerges from the bathroom. She brushes past the attendant, holding a card between her fingers as she peers down at Namjoon. “That was fun. Call me sometime,” she grins while walking away.

“You’re disgusting.” A shiver runs down your spine as one can assume what they were doing in there.

Namjoon gives you puppy eyes. “You’re so mean to me,” he pouts, folding his arms against his chest as he looks down. Not a split second later, he turns to you with a smirk. “I can rock your world whenever you want, angel.”

If only he could see the smoke fuming from your ears. He would never let that one time you slept with him go, would he? It was a moment of weakness you wish you could take back.

You scoff at his comment. “I can’t believe they just let anyone on airplanes now.”

His eyes rake over you. “I could say the same about you,” he retorts.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

“What do you think I’m doing here, darling?”

Your body cringes at the stupid pet name. “Oh, I don’t know, to annoy the fuck out of me?” you say, flashing a wry smile.

“Ah, yes. That’s on my itinerary too, but you know I can’t resist an all-expenses-paid trip when it’s offered.”

This was your chance to make an impression on one of the biggest publishing houses. But with Kim Namjoon tagging along on this little trip? He will consume your thoughts because you can’t think of anything else when he’s around–plotting and scheming ways to take you down.

“Just stay out of my hair tomorrow.”

Namjoon sucks his teeth. “Wish I could, sweetheart. But, whatever Ms. Davis wants, she gets.”

A part of you wondered if Namjoon was sleeping with her to get to the top of the food chain, like the vulture he is. You shivered at the thought of the two in compromising positions. Namjoon’s college shenanigans were something that continued even into adulthood, you guessed. 

The blinking cursor in this blank Word document has been mocking you, thinking you’re a clown. But you blame Kim Namjoon. He’s pushed his seat back, legs crossed and reclined, hands behind his head as he’s laughing obnoxiously at the movie on his computer screen. Every stifled laugh and clap has you rolling your eyes.

You can’t concentrate when he’s around, and that’s how it’s always been since sophomore year of college. The countless conversations with yourself because you had to be ready with a witty remark in case he is a smart-ass about anything and everything.

It was a sweet relief when you walked across that stage to shake the president’s hand and retrieve the rolled-up paper. And when you lifted your tassel from one side to the other, you exhaled because you never had to cross paths with him again.

That is four years into your job, and who shows up sitting in your office? None other than Kim Namjoon–your old academic rival.

You’re 29. No man should have you gritting your teeth, ready to claw at him. Then again, he’s no ordinary man–more like the devil incarnate. He makes your skin crawl. His presence makes you want to jump out of a window–because he’s suffocating, and the air in your lungs doesn’t exist.

Okay–maybe you’re exaggerating. But right now, you want to spill your glass of red wine just so he’ll have a stained shirt.

Your mouth twists as you nudge the giggly goon head. He takes off the noise-canceling headphones. “What?”

“Can you zip it? I can’t concentrate,” you say, repositioning in your seat.

Namjoon snickers. “Aw baby, you weren’t able to concentrate before I even started the movie. What makes you think me turning it off will help now?”

With a click of your tongue, you’re unsure why you even bothered asking him, so you return to your blinking cursor and blank document.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into New York City….” the announcement continues.

Guess it didn’t matter, anyway. You’ve spent two hours unproductive on a flight while Namjoon lollygags. At least you’ll have time to work on your presentation in peace when you get to your hotel.

You notice the way he walks and the way his bag is slung over his shoulder-practically about to drop, and you can’t forget the stupid overcoat that’s a tad too big for his frame. The crooked black tie contrasts against the crisp white button-down, and you want to help him fix it, only to make it snug enough to choke him a bit. It’s the way his cheeks lightly push against his thick black-rimmed glasses when he smiles, and his crescent eyes disappear, then immediately he widens them. It’s the way his hair falls perfectly above his glasses, and he daintily moves it away like the unflawed prince he is.

You hate you notice all these details about Kim Namjoon, but you’ve been around him long enough to have your guard up in case he pulls any funny business.

He doesn’t even care to check in at the front desk. Instead, he runs off to the bar when he sees a beautiful woman walking the same way.

You’re third in the check-in line, and you can’t help noticing the crowd hanging out in the lobby. Everyone’s dressed as some kind of anime character. It almost makes you feel underdressed in your plain white tee that’s tucked into your jeans.

A nudge from the side causes you to catch your footing. You clench your jaw before breathing out a sigh of frustration. He’s like a fly that won’t leave you alone.

“Want a sip? I think you could use a drink,” Namjoon says, tipping his glass toward you.

“I don’t drink on business trips.”

“Damn, baby. Lighten up. One drink won’t kill you,” he raises a brow and smirks. “Maybe it’ll even warm you up to me.”

If only your eyes could shoot laser beams every time he opened his smart mouth. Facing him, you took a step toward him, pretending to pick off lint from his coat. “It’s cute you think I’d warm up to you,” you pout.

Namjoon gives a lopsided grin, licking his lips. “Don’t worry, love. I’m sure we’ll become real cozy.”

When it’s your turn at the front desk, the receptionist flashes a warm smile, asking for your information. “Is this man with you as well?”

“No,” you say.

“Yes,” Namjoon chimes in.

You roll your eyes, glaring at the man who is the bane of your existence. “No. Nope,” you say, shaking your head. “He is not with me. He needs his own room.”

The receptionist doesn’t respond. She types and clicks around on the computer, her eyes darting around the screen. “I’m sorry ma’am, but it looks like we only have one room left,” she says, avoiding your gaze.

“What do you mean there’s only one room left?” you articulate, gritting your teeth.

The receptionist clicks around her screen again. “Again, I’m so sorry, ma’am. But we’re overbooked because of the anime convention in town. We can book this room for the two of you or give you a free hotel stay for another time to compensate for the inconvenience.”

Free hotel stay for another time? It wasn’t an option at the moment. You needed this hotel room to prepare for your presentation tomorrow.

Someone cosplaying as Sailor Moon walks past you and Namjoon. His elbows are propped on the counter as he faces toward the lobby. He turns to you. “Guess we’ll just have to share,” he raises a brow and licks his lips.

“You cannot think I’ll sleep in the same bed as him. I’d rather burn in hell instead.”

Namjoon turns to the receptionist. “She’s joking. She doesn’t want to sleep in the same bed because she knows she can’t control herself around me,” he grins, holding his hand out for the key card. “We’ll take what you have, love.”

You grumble, muttering curses under your breath as you grab your things, heading toward the elevator. First, he shows up unannounced, and now you have to share a room with him. Let alone a bed? What’s next? He’ll take over your presentation, you bet.

Namjoon whistles a cheerful tune while strolling down the hallway. How is he like a ray of sunshine right now? But to you, he is like a lingering cloud ready to rain on your parade.

When he reaches the door, he turns to you, still whistling, tapping the keycard against the sensor. The door almost slams in your face. You’re struggling to keep the heavy door open while dragging in your luggage.

“Really?” You huff with irritation in your voice.

Your eyes follow him as he makes himself comfortable on the bed. He’s lying down, his legs are dangling off as his feet touch the floor. And you hope the phone screen illuminating his honey skin drops on his face. You’re vile, you know. But Namjoon’s like an itch you can’t seem to reach.

Setting down your things, you walk over to him, slotting yourself between his legs, arms folded against your chest. “What are you doing in my bed?”

He chuckles, placing the phone beside him. He props himself up on his elbows, eyes raking over you. “Waiting for you to hop on, baby,” he sneers, patting his thigh.

How are you supposed to get any work done if he’s around invading the very air you breathe?

“In your dreams, Joon. You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, baby girl. You don’t even wanna know what you do in my dreams.”

His dreams, huh? You’ve wondered how many times you’ve shown up. “Let me guess, am I strangling you?”

Namjoon sits up, pushing himself off the bed to stand. It forces you to take a step back. There’s a moment of silence before he speaks, “Actually, you’re the one who likes it, remember? Not me, princess.”

You’re inches away from him and you hope he doesn’t see you visibly gulp. It’s like everything is stripped away when Namjoon’s around. As much as you try to hide it, you hope he can’t see through your bullshit.

Clicking your tongue, you try to compose yourself, tilting your head as you gaze into those dragon eyes. “Keep dreaming, Joonie because that’s the closest you’ll ever come to fucking me.”

“Again—” he corrects you. His gaze turns dark as he scans you from head to toe. He grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Come on, love. Don’t you want another taste?”

You roll your eyes, pushing away his hand. “Another taste of Kim Namjoon?” you tut. “Please—I eat boys like you for breakfast.”

A stupid grin spreads across Namjoon’s face. His scent invades your space again, making you step back. “Well, I’ll be sure to serve you breakfast in bed tomorrow. I hear the sausage is great.”

You huff a breath, glaring at the tall, beefy man. “I swear to god, Kim Namjoon if you don’t stay on your side of the bed—there’s gonna be hell to pay!”

Namjoon puts his hands up in defeat. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep my package safe, but it's cute you think your mouth is big enough for me.” He raises a brow, gently nibbling on his bottom lip.

You scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself, Joon. Always talking a big game, but you gotta put your money where your mouth is love.” You almost retch as the last word rolls off your tongue.

The night you slept with Namjoon was a hazy one. You blame the wine that was coursing through your veins and the critique you received from your professor—it messed with your head and you wanted nothing more than to get your mind off it. Namjoon was in the right place at the right time—annoying you like always. Naturally, he wouldn’t shut up, so you shut him up. One thing led to another and before you knew it, you had slept with your rival.

Walking away, you grab your bag, breathing a sigh of relief once you’re out of the room. It’s a stupid game the two of you have played since college—he riles you up, and you retaliate, but you would try your best to not let him get to you. 

You spent the last few hours sitting in the hotel’s bar, with headphones on as you clicked and clacked away at your laptop, finally getting your thoughts onto this Word document. There’s no music playing. You wanted to drown out the noise of the crowd.

As you’re facing out toward the lobby, you look up, glimpsing the bane of your existence, Kim Namjoon. You watch as he makes his way out of the hotel lobby, and now is your chance to sneak back up to the room and have some quiet for once.

When Namjoon’s out of view, you gather your things, making your way back up. As the door closes, a breath expels from your lips and you can finally breathe again.

Sitting down at the small table, your stomach growls, a reminder that you had ignored for the past hour because this presentation was more important than nourishment. You’re more than halfway finished, and your reward would be a delicious meal.

It’s nearly 9 o’clock, and your meal is nowhere in sight. The outline is finished, talking points are ready to go, but your laptop is dead, and with your luck, you forgot to pack the charger.

You want nothing more than to disappear and crawl into a hole and never come out of it. You’re ready to jump ship without a lifejacket—it’s practically what you’re doing going into this presentation. If only you had more time to prep instead of being thrown into this so last minute. Maybe you shouldn’t have told your boss you’re always ready for whatever’s thrown your way.

The rumbling in your stomach continues, but you’d rather wallow in self-deprecating thoughts than fill your belly with a delicious meal.

Why can’t things go your way for once?

As you’re sitting on the couch beside the window, a sprinkle of rain falls, and it’s perfect, actually–matching your exact mood. You place your chin against the jade-green velvet-colored couch, breathing a sigh of frustration.

How are you meant to get others to care when you're apathetic about why you got into this profession in the first place? You remember discovering your first author and how they made you kick your feet and giggle all night. The feeling of watching someone grow from a small audience into a commercial success made you love your job, and when you and an author are on the same wavelength and both so passionate about a story? You were unmatched when the stars aligned.

But this trip was a different story. You had been working with this author, but Ms. Davis asked Namjoon to chime in, and once something is in Namjoon’s hands, it’s never yours again. It was like a repeat of your college years.

So when Ms. Davis asked you to fill in for Namjoon, you jumped at the chance because you had missed this story and this author, and you hoped Namjoon didn’t distort the beautiful story and world that she had built. You get why everyone fawns over Namjoon. Admitting it crushes your soul just a tad, but he’s smart, charming, suave, and not that bad to look at. You just wished he’d let you have a win now and again. You’re tired of being second best.

When you hear a beep from the door, you sigh, throwing your head back. You don’t acknowledge your roommate for the night and instead focus on the rain droplets hitting the window. Pulling your knees toward your chest, your arms rest on them along with your head as you stare outside. You’re not in the mood to deal with Namjoon right now.

A delectable aroma fills your nose when Namjoon’s presence occupies your space. He sets something next to your feet while on the couch. You look at the box and then at him.

“What’s this?”

“You need to eat.”

“I already ate,” you lie, and your stomach growled, loud enough you’re sure Namjoon heard it too. You make a face, clenching your stomach, hoping it doesn’t do it again.

“Just eat,” he says, bending down to grab the box for you.

“Is this your way of poisoning me, so you can do the presentation tomorrow?”

Namjoon scoffs. “No, actually. It’s me being a decent human being. I saw you at the bar, and I know how you are when you’re in work mode. You forget to eat.”

There’s a fire rising in your chest, and you want nothing more than to be left alone. “I didn’t think the devil had a heart,” you quip back. It’s easier when he isn’t, makes you feel less of an ass—and so much for not being in the mood to argue.

He tuts. “Why are you always like this? Even when we were in school together. You’ve always hated me.”

Maybe it’s how everything’s been handed to him on a silver platter–like how he doesn’t have to work his ass off just to get a sliver of recognition. Maybe it’s because he could be the good guy, but he chooses otherwise. Maybe it’s because somehow he always shows up wherever you are, ready to take things from you.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Fine, starve. I don’t even know why I tried.”

You groaned. “Can you just go away? You’re so annoying.”

“Me? Annoying? You’ve had a stick up your ass ever since you saw me on the plane, and I haven’t done shit to you. I’m here out of courtesy for our boss. What am I supposed to do? Say no?”

“Yeah! You should’ve.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “God–there’s no winning with you, is there?”

You ignore his comment, shifting in your seat, eyes focused on the rain again.

His jaw clenched as he backed off. “I was trying to be nice–break the ice, but it’s useless when I keep hitting a wall with you. See you later. I need a drink.”

Your eyes squeeze shut when the door slams. Sometimes you wonder if you’re too harsh or if you channeled your hatred toward something else, if it would benefit you more. But this was the circus of you and Namjoon–mortal rivals, nothing less, nothing more.

It’s well past midnight when you illuminate your phone for the third time. You’ve been tossing and turning, panicking about tomorrow’s presentation. Maybe you’d have to forgo using a slideshow and go off your outline. Graphic design isn’t your passion anyway because Canva was your best friend for presentation templates.

You had prepared yourself for having to share a bed with Namjoon, but you can’t help but notice that he hasn’t returned from wherever he went. You wonder if this was it–if it was the final straw for him, with you and your bitchy attitude.

As you’re on your phone, going over your outline, a beep from the door alerts you that Namjoon is back. You quickly stuff your phone underneath your pillow, turning in the opposite direction with your back facing him.

“Yeah, mom. Don’t worry. I’ll be back.” His voice softens when he sees the lights are out.

An indistinct voice is heard from the other end, but you close your eyes, pretending to be fast asleep.

“Yes, I have it on my calendar and already asked for the days off. I’ll be back before your surgery.”

You feel bad listening in on his conversation and even worse when you realize his mother is having surgery.

Namjoon hums. “I love you too, Mom. I’ll see you next week. Mm–bye.”

He sets his phone down and cards his hand through his dark hair, but it softly falls back in place. You can hear him ruffling through his bag before he walks off to what you guess is the bathroom to wash up.

You turn over when there’s a sudden ache in your side. Your eyes open to see the light shining from underneath the door, and he’s pacing around as he brushes his teeth.

When the water shuts off, he opens the door, turning off the light. The darkened curtains eliminate all light sources in the room, save for the bit peeking through from the moonlight shining on him, revealing his broad shoulders and honey-skin chest. Thank god it’s dark, otherwise if Namjoon saw you ogling him, he’d have a field day. But the gawking ends when he slips on a shirt.

You shift back to the side that’s still aching and Namjoon slips under the cover, keeping his distance. You’re facing away from him, and you can’t help but hear the frustration when he huffs a breath.

Of course, the stupid ache doesn’t dissipate, and you’re back on your side, facing Namjoon. You peek an eye open. His phone is dimly lit before he turns it off, setting it on his chest. Both of his hands are laced behind his head as he stares at the ceiling, and you’re fighting the urge to say something.

What you overheard was personal, something you weren’t meant to hear. After all these years of being academic rivals and co-workers, you knew little about his life except that he was a trust fund baby and had a younger sister.

“Namjoon?” You quietly croak out.

He quickly gazes in your direction. “Sorry—did I wake you? I didn’t mean to.”

“No, I couldn’t sleep, and then I heard you come in.”

A muttered apology escapes his lips along with ‘Night,’ as he turns on his side, facing away from you.

His demeanor is different, almost as if he’s let down his guard. You’ve never seen him distraught before.

“Namjoon?”

He hums but doesn’t turn around to face you.

“Is everything okay with your mom?”

Namjoon clears his throat. “Yeah, she’s okay. At least, I hope so.”

You’re nibbling on your bottom lip. “I couldn’t help but overhear she’s having surgery?”

“Oh—yeah, we, um, recently found out she has breast cancer and has to have a mastectomy.”

“Joon,” you utter. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stammers, shifting himself into a more comfortable position. “Everything happened so fast, and I feel like I haven’t had time to process my thoughts. I’m trying my best to stay strong, you know?”

You place your hand under your cheek as you’re staring at his backside. The two of you stay silent for a moment.

“I get that,” you say, lying on your back, bringing the duvet to cover you. “Um, my mom also went through breast cancer a few years ago, if it’s any consolation, I suppose breast cancer is one of the better ones to have? If that’s such a thing—I mean, there’s a lot of research that’s gone into it, and there’s so much support out there if she wants it. So, um, yeah, just keep your head up. Your mom will be okay.”

Namjoon mumbles, “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He doesn’t turn to you, and you don’t blame him. You have been a bit of an ass to him, but you’re not made of stone—there’s a heart buried somewhere inside.

Flipping on your side, your backs are facing one another, and you hear a sniffle. Immediately, you turn back, hesitant about being in this position. In the time you’ve known Namjoon, he’s never cried in front of you. There are more sniffles, and you can hear him holding back whatever’s caught in his throat.

Your heart’s racing, your breath is slow and controlled. You shift closer to him, removing the pillow you had placed in the middle to separate the two of you.

“Joon?”

He wipes his nose and clears his throat. “Yeah?”

“Would it be okay if I hugged you?”

Namjoon hums in agreement, and you take it upon yourself to inch closer to him. Somehow he seems so much smaller when you’re this close. You snake your arm underneath him, wrapping it around his waist, pressing your body against his. It takes a moment for him to register what’s happening, and then his hand finds yours, entwining them together.

You’ve been where he has and any kind of surgery is scary, especially when it’s a loved one. Your mind can only wander to the worst-case scenarios.

Your bodies are in sync as you can feel his chest rise and fall. But his breath is ragged and shaky. You suppose he’s fighting off any tears threatening to fall.

“You can tell me to fuck off.”

He chuckles. “No, I like this. It feels nice.”

Your mind finally settled during the night, and you could fall asleep. Namjoon’s snores were your alarm clock this morning. The weight of his arm draped over your waist. It was a familiar feeling—just like the day after you had slept with him. Only this time, all your clothes were on, and there was no accompanying headache.

Peering over your shoulder, he was still fast asleep, so this was your chance to sneak away. You were hoping to go over your presentation a few more times before your meeting today with the publisher. But as soon, as you decide to slip away, a buzzing from Namjoon’s side causes you to close your eyes and pretend like you weren’t trying to get up.

It buzzes a few times before Namjoon stirs awake, fumbling around to find his phone. “Hello?” he says in a groggy, raspy voice.

You shift away from him, snuggling underneath the duvet. The conversation is indistinct, and you can’t hear anything but Namjoon’s responses.

“Wait—” Namjoon sits up, turning away from you, his feet planted on the ground. “You want me to do what?”

He’s frustrated by whatever he was told.

“No, I can’t do that to her.” He quickly peers in your direction, and he sees you fast asleep. The voice on the other line continues along with Namjoon’s frustration. He’s rubbing his temple and sighs. “Please don’t make me do this. She already hates me as is.”

You can’t help but wonder who’s on the other line and who the ‘she’ is.

Namjoon shakes his head, and his voice quiets down. “She’s been working so hard on this presentation. I can’t just take this from her.”

Your heart sinks when you realize he’s talking about you. There’s no one else doing a presentation, and Namjoon was working with this author before they were handed back to you.

“Okay, okay. I’ll let her know,” he said dejectedly. Namjoon doesn’t even say goodbye. He’s crouched over, elbows on his knees as his head hangs low.

The soft chimes of your alarm go off. You wait a few seconds before reaching for your phone to silence it. Sitting up, you glance over at Namjoon who’s looking right at you.

“Morning. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, my alarm woke me up,” you say before flipping the duvet over. You stand, smoothing down your hair. “Big presentation today. I should get ready for the day.”

You’re ready to run to the bathroom, but Namjoon stops you. “Um, about that.”

Slowly, you turn to him. “What about it?”

Namjoon’s hands are entwined, and his thumbs fiddled out of nervousness. “Ms. Davis called and wants me to do the presentation.”

You suck in your lower lip, gently chewing on it. “But I worked on it like a madwoman last night. Why would Ms. Davis ask me to do it and then go back to asking you?”

A buzzing from your phone interrupts you. The screen flashes ‘Ms. Davis.’ You peer at Namjoon, then answer the phone. “Hello? Ms. Davis?”

“Good morning, ____. I hope you slept well.”

You hum in response.

“I know I asked you to go to New York, but now that Namjoon is there. I think it’ll be better if he does the presentation. He just has a way with words, and I think he’ll be able to land this deal, don’t you think?”

Namjoon avoids your gaze by scrolling on his phone. You remember Namjoon’s words from the day before, ‘What Ms. Davis wants, Ms. Davis gets.’

You take a moment before responding. “Why yes, Ms. Davis, I agree. Namjoon would be perfect for this presentation.”

She continues about supporting him in whatever way he needs today, and you’re seething like a teakettle that’s ready to burst. You agree with everything she says.

“Mmhm, yes. I’ll make sure he has everything he needs.”

You bid her a chipper farewell before hanging up. Your phone’s clenched in your hand, and your chest is heaving. Thoughts are running rampant—you’re ready to quit on the spot.

Licking your lips, you look at Namjoon. “Well, good luck with your presentation today. Don’t ruin it for our author and Ms. Davis.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “No–you worked hard on it. You should do it.”

You scoff. “Don’t act like you don’t want to take this from me, Joon. It’s what you’re good at. You always get your way—just like when we were in school and now even at work. No matter how hard I work for everything, you’re there to reap the reward.”

His jaw clenches. He stands, walking to you. “You’re so fucking exhausting,” he spits out. “You think I’m some guy who’s out to get you or wants the worst for you–it’s like whatever preconceived notion you’ve fabricated has overlooked the fact that I’m a pretty decent guy if you could get past whatever thing that I’ve done to tick you off.” He sighs. “I’m telling you to do the presentation, but here you are blaming me.”

The warmth from his body is scorching as he nears you–it matches the energy firing inside you. Here he is, allowing you to shoot your shot, but you’re stubborn and temperamental.

Your gaze pierces through him. “Do whatever you want, Joon. I quit.”

Quickly, you gather your things, stuffing them into your carry-on. You know how ridiculous it sounds, but Kim Namjoon tends to bring out your foolishness. You’ve had seven years of him right by your side, which was too many for you. Maybe it was time to find a private island with no form of communication to escape him.

Namjoon doesn’t stop you, he lets you leave. He knows how strong-willed you are and once you’ve decided, there’s no changing it.

You wash up in the hotel lobby’s restroom, rushing off to nowhere because well–you had quit and home was two hours away by flight and it wasn’t leaving until tonight.

Cars and buses screech to a halt along with the sounds of never-ending honking. Chattering from tourists and bicyclists whiz by your side. There’s never a dull moment so you can get your head on straight. 

A buzzing from your bag goes unnoticed because you’re too busy figuring out the next steps. You don’t know what you’re doing. Quitting, so suddenly? Was it out of spite? If you couldn’t even handle Namjoon, how would you handle the next prick that came along? 

You held your arm out, trying to hail a cab, but no one stopped. Well, it was probably the worst time to grab one, anyway. Checking your phone, you noticed a missed call and a voicemail, and it wasn’t from anyone you were expecting.

It was from Noa Skye, the author you were trying to get published.

“Hey ____. I know I’ve been working with Namjoon for the last several months, but when I heard that you’re doing the meeting with HarperCollins instead, I screamed! I know you’ll be able to pitch my book well because you love this story as much as I do. So, yeah, I just wanted to call and wish you good luck. You’re going to do great. Talk to you soon!”

Your heart sank to your stomach when you heard Noa’s voicemail. It was true–you loved her story, and you wanted the entire world to read it so they could laugh and cry along with you. Her book deserved to be on bookshelves and New York’s best-seller list.

Should you buck up the courage and walk in with your head held high? And for once, maybe Namjoon was right–that you were looking for someone to blame and he was conveniently the scapegoat.

Noa deserved better than this ongoing battle between you and Namjoon; maybe more you than him–but regardless, you needed to set aside your ego for the sake of your author.

Huffing out a deep breath, you pulled your hair back, ready to fight for this presentation.

Namjoon was typing furiously, looking through his previous notes on Noa’s novel. He wished he had spoken to you about what you had outlined to get a better grasp. You and Noa had been working on her novel for a couple of months before Namjoon came into the picture. Surely, he knew how to charm the pants off publishers, but sometimes he felt like you captured the heart of these stories better than he did.

You’re jabbing the number seven several times, encouraging the elevator doors to close. Looking at your phone, there’s half an hour before the presentation. You hoped it was enough time to sort things out with Namjoon and go over your outline.

Turning the corner, you find Namjoon sitting with a laptop. He looks up, almost relieved when he sees you, but of course, he doesn’t make it known.

“Thought you quit,” he says when you’re near.

You flash a thin smile, sitting beside him. “I never waste a moment where I can rescue you, because it looks like you need my help.” A glimpse of a nearly empty page proves your point.

In normal Namjoon fashion, he’s ready to bite back, but he holds his tongue. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You can say ‘thanks’ and I’ll call it even.” He mumbles something indistinct and you cup your hand up to your ear. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear you over the sound of your ego.”

His shoulders slump, and he cocks his head. “Thanks, ___. I owe you one.”

Wiggling in your chair, you’re smiling proudly because this is the first genuine show of gratitude from Kim Namjoon.

“Here’s what I have. Can you tell me what you and Noa have been working on?”

Even without visuals, you felt the presentation went well and did Noa justice with her novel. Namjoon was another surprise. He didn’t interrupt, waited until you finished before adding in his two cents.

Although the presentation and trip to New York were short and sweet, it was eye-opening for you because you had been toying with the idea of opening up a literary agency. The sound of being your own boss sounded lovely.

“We did good, huh?” Namjoon says as he stands beside you.

“We?” You quirk an eyebrow.

He tilts his head. “You. You did a good job.”

You stand proud outside of the hotel’s driveway as the two of you wait for an Uber. “I know. I always save the day.”

Namjoon chuckles. “Well, have a good flight back home.”

Whipping your head back to him, your brows stitched in confusion. “Are you not going back to Chicago?”

He shakes his head. “My mom’s surgery got moved up, so I’m flying straight to Seoul. I’ll be back in Chicago in two weeks.”

“Oh,” you mumble. “I hope everything goes well.”

“Thanks,” he flashes a small smile. A car pulls up to him. “Looks like my ride's here. I’ll see you.”

Namjoon grabs his carry-on, ready to leave, but you stop him. “Joon–” He turns back around. “I’m sorry about what happened this morning. You’re right. I haven’t treated you nicely and have blamed you for a lot of things over the years, and it’s no one’s fault, but my own. I hope things go well with your mom, and if you ever need anyone to talk to, you can call me.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Call you, hmm?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Just–” you groan. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t even know why I tried.”

Namjoon lets go of his carry-on and walks back to you. “I’m messing with you.” He chuckles lowly, taking another step closer to you. He lifts your chin with his forefinger, his dragon eyes gazing into yours. “It’s our thing, isn’t it? You hate me, I hate you. We find some kind of common ground, then fall in love. Isn’t that in all the books we read?”

You lick your lips and nod, pointing to yourself. “Me? Fall in love with you? Don’t push your luck, Joon.”

read 'under the mistletoe' (a don't push your luck drabble)

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.30

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

The plane ride home gives you plenty of time to think. You use up half of the time trying to come up with what you’ll say to Nat if you ever see her again. So far all you’ve come up with is- 

‘ Hey! guess what? I figured out it was you I was talking to the whole time- oh and also I’m in love with you!’ and you’re pretty sure that’s a bit too much to throw at her all at once.

So you use the other half of the time to sign the hundreds of petitions that people from all over the world have created to fight against your government's stupid decision. It’s a rare moment where people are coming together to agree on one unanimous decision and it’s kind of beautiful.

There’s been people protesting outside of courthouses and social media’s blowing up with reasons why the Avengers should be dropped of all their charges.

When your mom dropped you off at the airport you promised her you would tell her everything that’s been going on once you finished your business and she gave you a stern look that said ‘you better’ before ushering you to your gate.

After a lot of contemplation, you decided you would drop off your bags at your apartment and then head to the police station to file a report about your stalking. It had been peaceful being in your hometown but now that you were back home you didn’t want to spend every day living in fear of the people following you.

After that, you would head to Avengers Tower. You didn’t know if they’d believe you even with all the proof you’ve gathered but it was worth a shot. At worst, they’d kick you out. At best, they’d let you in to wait for Nat or send her some sort of coded message to tell her you were waiting for her.

You’re not sure if she’d come back just for that reason but if she at least knew you were waiting for her maybe the guilt would urge her to come back and at the very least, apologize in person.

~~

You’re a little disoriented from the jet lag when you touch down, nearly falling asleep in the Taxi to your apartment when you jolt awake at the sound of people yelling and cars honking. Out the window, there’s a large crowd of people with signs heading in one direction and you’re thankful you’re not in it.

Your cab driver apologizes for the traffic delay, telling you that apparently there was some kind of big meeting going on at the courthouse and everyone was making a big fuss about it. You figure the news about the meeting must have dropped while you were on the plane and make a mental note to check for updates once you set your bags down.

Despite it still being around noon, exhaustion weighs heavy on your bones from the chaos of the last few days and you’re more than ready for a nap as you make your way to your apartment door. It’s only when you’re a few inches away that you stop in your tracks. The sound of voices coming from inside your apartment.

Your whole body lights up with fear as you try to make out their conversation. From what you can tell it’s two male voices and you can’t help but assume it’s the people who’ve been stalking you this past month. Their conversation is muffled but you can just make out a few of the words being said-

“Come on —---- Are you really going to —---------- at her own apartment?” Voice number 1 sounds a little exasperated and you hope you can use that to your advantage if they try to attack.

“I just want to talk to her —---” The second voice is deeper and sends a chill down your spine. What were you doing? You should be running away. 

You attempt to make a silent getaway just as your next-door neighbor arrives and you plead to the gods she doesn’t acknowledge you but she’s always been more talkative than you’d sometimes like.

“Oh hey Y/n! Back from your trip?” She smiles at you as she unlocks her door and the voices inside your apartment still. Shit. Think fast, Y/n.

“Yeah but uh- I… think I forgot a bag in the taxi, would you mind watching this one for me real quick?” You all but shove your luggage at her and barely acknowledge her startled ‘Oh sure!’ before you’re booking it back out of the building.

Your heart is pounding and you’re not sure what to do about two grown men in your apartment but you know they heard you talk and you have to get away from them as soon as possible.

Your body’s on autopilot and before you know it you’re practically speed walking in the direction of the police station. At least now you could report them for breaking and entering and stalking. Maybe the police will take you more seriously then.

Halfway to the police station, you have the displeasure of noticing one of the Suv's from before is tailing you again. You don’t know if it’s the men from your apartment or someone else but your anxiety spikes when they speed up and you quickly turn down a random alley as they get closer.

Much to your surprise and relief, they drive past you like you aren’t even there and it leaves you wondering if maybe you really were being paranoid.

Still shaken up about the men who broke in, you decide it’s best if you still hurry to the police station so they have time to dust for fingerprints and maybe move you into witness protection. (you know that’s only an FBI thing but it makes you feel better to think about it).

Despite the threat of the SUV being gone, you’re still checking over your shoulder every few minutes to make sure no one is following you. It’s for that reason that you don’t even notice it when you bump into a large crowd of people.

You’re immediately uncomfortable, your PTSD with crowds snapping into effect and making you go rigid with anxiety. You can’t move your body as people shout and shove you in every direction. You must have accidentally stumbled into the crowd of protesters at the courthouse.

For a brief moment you think ‘at least it’ll be harder to track me in here’ but then someone steps on your foot and you flinch back, accidentally bumping into someone else who shoves you off of them in agitation. You turn to apologize but they’re already gone so you decide to try and focus on getting out.

You duck and weave through bodies but the occasional shoulder check has you feeling like you’re still stuck in the middle of the madness.

Finally, you think you’ve found the exit as you push through the sea of people and you lurch towards open air only to be grabbed back by a man in a black suit and sunglasses.

His grip is tight and you cry out in pain at the feeling when a voice yells at him above the rest of the crowd.

“Let her go!” The voice is commanding and whoever it is must be important because the mafia/agent-looking guy immediately lets you go. You rub your tender arm and wonder if it’s going to bruise when you notice the rowdy crowd has gone suspiciously quiet. 

You wonder if they’re all just as intimidated by the voice as the guy in the suit was when you look up and make eye contact with your savior.

A pair of strikingly familiar green eyes stare back at you with surprise.

Pt.31

A/n: only a few more chapters left- how we feeling? ~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723 @sylencr @saraaahsstuff @autorasexy @gay4hotmilfs @tofu9162 @dyslexic-dreamer @graniairish @colettehope @kosmichs1 @nmhlver @natblidaclexa @skittlebum @dorabledewdroop @nothanksbye07 @mrsrushman @midastouch013 @thalia-is-not-ok @tessalah @annab3113 @officialnighttime @taliiiaasteria @bgwlsmahf25 @chibilauren @natashasgirlll @nmhlver @strange-night-owl @obsessedwjill @autorasexy

[dira333]

Of Swings and Snakes - Matsukawa x Reader - part 2

part 1 for anyone who missed it. I apologize for taking so long. Life hit me like a train right after writing the first part. I hope you enjoy the second part, where they get their shit together.

tagging: @lees-chaotic-brain, @togament (the angsty Mattsun anon), @constantlybeingbiaswrecked @multi-fandom-fanfic @integers @sy1v30n @iatethemochi

“Are you sure about that?” Makki asks, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, “Really sure?”

“Really, really sure,” you tell him, grabbing your purse a little tighter. “This will do me good. Get to know myself in a new city, you know? And I’m sure you’ve got other things to do than keeping me company. I’ve got to go now, though, I will call you when the plane lands.”

“No,” Makki’s hands are on your shoulders, keeping you in place, “Five more minutes, okay?”

“Makki?” You level him with a glare. “What’s going on?”

But there’s another voice behind him, one you wish you could have forgotten but still hear every night in your dreams. 

“Sorry,” Mattsun’s panting, sweat running down his temple, “Traffic jam.”

-

Two weeks before

“What’s for Dinner?” Makki asks, sniffing at the door. “I made Okonomiyaki,” you announce proudly, placing the dish on the table, “I hope you’re hungry.”

It’s gotten easier these days, pretending that you’re happy.

Sometimes you even find yourself laughing, smiling, forgetting about the cloud of sadness that hides in your chest, keeping you from breathing at the worst times.

You’ve yet to meet Mattsun again, and since you are part of the same friend group two weeks without him feels like a year in the real world.

But, a cold voice whispers, it’s not like you saw him a lot before your breakup anyway.

-

“I can’t believe you,” you pull away from Makki, dread heavy in your stomach. “You told him?”

“Hey,” Mattsun’s voice cuts through you like a hot knife. “Can we talk?”

“I’ve got a plane to catch,” you hiss, heart bleeding as his face falls. Somehow, even now, you’re still attached in places you didn’t know. Like two pieces of fabric, sown together so tight you can’t pull on one without hurting the other.

“You’ve got five minutes,” you tell him, throat tight. You send Makki the harshest glare you can manage. “And you can leave.”

“Sorry,” he has the decency to look ashamed as he slinks away.

You grab your purse a little tighter, the familiar feel of it soothing your nerves a little.

“Can we walk?” You ask, voice quivering, “I don’t want to miss my plane.”

“Yeah, sure, okay.” Issei rubs the back of his head as he walks, one hand dangerously close to brushing yours.

“I wanted… I wanted to explain.”

“Now?”

“Yeah,” he swallows thickly. “I think I messed everything up.”

You stop walking, make the mistake of looking into his eyes.

The noise and bustle of the airport fades away as you remember a different time.

-

1 year before

“Promise not to tell?” Issei asks over the low hum of the Fan. It’s much too hot to be cuddling like this, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“No one’s going to judge you-” You start, your voice soft, but there’s an urgency in his eyes, a desperate vulnerability you’ve never seen before, just felt in your own bones.

“I promise,” you tell him, pinkies linked over your hearts.

You can feel, little by little, how his shoulders drop, the weight of the world sliding off.

His temple presses against yours, the skin flushed and warm to the touch.

But you don’t comment on it, and neither do you mention the salty tears that drop from his eyes onto your cheeks.

Because Issei might be taller than you and stronger than you and smarter than you - sometimes - but he has yet to learn to allow himself to be.

-

“Hey,” you grab his hand, too familiar with the sight of him when he tries not to cry. 

He used to joke about it, the lone benefit of losing a game, because no one would judge you for crying then when everyone would judge you for it the rest of the time.

“Issei, it’s okay.” The words come out of their own.

When he pulls you in you can feel the tears soaking into your hair, the quiver of his shoulders as you curl your arms around him.

Maybe it’s because you cared for him for too long, the comfort you give Muscle Memory. But you don’t think it is. Because your heart beats two beats instead of one like it usually did around him. 

“Talk to me?” You ask and he nods, his chin scraping the top of your head.

“I love you.”

“I know,” you sigh.

“No,” he shakes his head. You can feel it more than you see it. “You don’t know. Because I didn’t tell you as often as I should have. Because I thought… I was doing odd jobs in the evening, trying to get through the courses faster as a… as a surprise… Because I wanted us to get a good start. To do it right from the beginning.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask, pulling back to look at him. His eyes are red and the way he wipes his nose on his sleeve is less than appealing, but he’s chuckling dryly through the pain.

“I thought… I thought I was supposed to do this on my own.”

“What-”

He shakes his head, stops you with a raised hand.

“I did a cooking class in the evenings… I wasn’t cheating.”

You gape at him.

“Why?”

“Because,” he pulls his shoulders up, “You were always cooking. I wanted to help out.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me? At least when I was breaking up with you?”

You sound almost hysteric now. Issei flinches at the sound of your voice.

“I was trying-”

“No,” you shake your head. “You weren’t. You just left.”

“Because you wanted-”

“Issei,” you swallow harshly and grab his hands. “Issei, listen to me. We’re no longer kids.”

He blinks. “I know.”

“If we can’t talk about things we can’t stay together.”

“But-”

“No,” you shake your head. “You know that. It’s the little things, not the big things. You can’t just show up and ask me to stay only to make the same mistakes a few months in.”

“But I love you.”

“And I love you.” You swallow the tears that now threaten to fall from your face too. “But I think we need to grow up first.”

“How?”

Overhead your flight is called.

“I don’t know,” you admit for the first time. You have no idea what you’re doing. “But I think leaving might be a start. I’ll… I’ll text when I get there, okay?”

Your hand slips out of his only for him to grab it again, pulling you back.

You want to say something but he silences you with a kiss.

“I’ll fight for this,” he promises, a fire in his eyes that you have missed.

“Good,” you agree a little breathless, “me too.”

But you still leave.

-

3 weeks later

“Oh, Boyfriend’s calling,” your coworker jokes as you sprint back to your desk at the sound of your ringtone.

“It’s not like that,” you try to explain what is, in fact, not that easy to explain.

“Hey,” you’re out of breathe as you pick up, checking the clock on the wall. You’ve got about fifteen minutes before your next shift starts.

“Hey,” Issei’s voice is warm, yet cautious. “Bad timing?”

“It’s okay,” you huff, getting comfortable. “We’ve got fifteen minutes. How’s everybody doing?”

-

Whoever said that relocating to a new country is easy has either lied or did drugs half of the time.

Because it’s neither easy nor enjoyable at first.

Or maybe that’s just the way it is when you relocate with a severely broken heart.

Your new apartment is even smaller than the one you lived in before even though you share it with a roommate - Sang Hee is a lot cleaner than Issei, but she plays the drums every night. You’ve yet to find your comfort foods in the stores near your apartment and making Onigiri yourself just doesn’t hit the same way.

And it’s lonely, living like this.

Sure, there’s Sang Hee and Ae-cha from your business Class and Dae-hyun from work, but they don’t know you the way Issei, Makki, or even Kyoutani knew you. 

All those inside jokes and memes are lost on them and it’s hard to build it all up anew.

-

“You do have a tendency to shut others out,” Ae-chan diagnoses you over coffee like she’s just guessed your favorite anime. “Have you ever thought about therapy?”

“I don’t- I- I guess, I-” You stammer as she blows on her tea to cool it down.

“I do have someone I can recommend,” she smiles. “And I apologize if I’m being too forward, but my mom and my dad are both therapists. I think it runs in the family.”

“Ouch.”

She laughs. “I get that a lot. Now, tell me about your boyfriend again.”

“He’s not my-”

“Tell me about your friend, who is a boy and used to live with you.”

You sigh. “Well, his name is Issei and he never put his dirty socks where they belong…”

-

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Issei asks.

“I-” You hesitate for a second, wringing your hands. “It feels weird to see you here. Like you don’t belong to this city yet. As if I cut you out of my dreams and placed you in front of a greenscreen.”

He doesn’t laugh. His arms hang limp and you move to grab one arm, feel the familiar sensation of his rough, warm skin on yours. 

Ever since you’ve left, you’ve been in constant contact.

Sometimes it’s just a text, letting the other know how you’d rate your day. Sometimes he calls, the conversation going for hours on end.

It’s easier, in a way, to admit things when you can’t see his face. 

It feels like noone can judge, in the Silence of your room.

“Makki says hello,” he mumbles now, his fingers closing around yours.

You leave that uncommented. 

You and Makki still talk, but you feel like he’s not quite understanding what you’re going through. Why you have to stay away for so long.

Issei doesn’t ask you to come back when he leaves. But he leans down to kiss you, steady posture even as you lean in as well, meeting him in the middle.

-

“One day, we’ll tell our children,” you tell him at night, his voice crackling through the receiver.

“That we were stupid?”

“Stupid as hell,” you agree. “Followed all the wrong advice.”

He hums low in his throat and you can see him, huddled up in bed, sleep dragging him down.

“Will you marry me?” He asks, the question as soft as the one before.

“Yeah,” you agree just as softly, “I will.”

Because this isn’t a proposal. This is what communication has come to between you. 

You can talk about the future with a different certainty now. 

It will happen. You just don’t know yet when.

-

Finally

“Welcome back,” Issei’s arms are open and you snuggle right in, giggling when his hug lifts you off the ground.

Behind you, our belongings wait to be carried to his apartment. Your apartment.

And even though you’ve been there before, it feels different now.

Because you’re not leaving again.

This time, you’re here to stay.

Oh and Makki? Rumour has it he’s renting the apartment on the other side of the hallway. 

-

“Hey,” Issei meets you in the kitchen around midnight. “Can’t sleep?”

“I needed to pee and when I got up I had this craving for chocolate.” You hold the spoon to his lips so that he can lick it. “I was going to bring it to you.”

Instead of answering, he pulls you close.

It has been a hard time, for the both of you.

Figuring out who you are, who the other is and, most importantly, how to find a way out of your arguments. 

“Did you find the box?” Issei whispers into your ear.

“Oh, you mean the box you hid behind the chocolate sprinkles.”

You can feel his lips stretch into a smile.

“So, what’s your answer?”

“Dunno, what’s the question?”

He snorts before letting go.

You already know what you’re going to see when you turn, but you do it anyway.

Issei, on one knee, wearing his ridiculous Pokemon Pajamas he got from Makki once… holding a velvety ring box in his left hand.

“Will you marry me?”

“Always.”

[justheretodump]

continuation of this story, mashup of dc x danny phantom x miraculous ladybug x spiderman

---

when marinette had reached out to cat blanc, her heart bled with conflict. she had been wrong to give adrien the gift, wrong to use her powers for selfish reasons. regret coursed through her veins, sadness clouded her face with tears, and hatred brewed at the man gabriel agreste chose to be. her last visage was that of cat blanc kneeling in pain and her heart hurt for him.

---

peter parker had not survived his encounter with the vulture on the beach. he had enough time to tie the man up but amongst the scattered debris and plane cargo on the sand, he had slowly fallen to one knee, and then the other, before slumping forward with a last breath.

his only thought was that may parker would have dinner alone, and what kind of nephew was he to miss family dinner?

---

red robin did not trust many people. his family and his titans, undoubtedly. in a professional capacity, a few of the justice leaguers and close colleagues like gordon. outside of that, he tended to tread with caution. like every robin before and after, it was hard to refuse batman's particular brand of paranoia. dick had always stood out by sometimes (the key being sometimes) refusing bruce's hardheaded wariness. jason had the emotional intelligence of a pumpkin, though he would cooperate with "untrustwrothy allies" just to spite bruce. it fell on to tim, then, to be a carbon copy of his mentor. c'est la vie, and all that.

when batman received a call from constantine asking for technological help, red robin eyed the comm warily. justice league dark needed every member available due to the recent ghost cases and the australian running off had been bad timing.

"batman," the man's voice was serious and fast-paced in the echo of the cave, "jazz called from illinois, the call cut out, bad signal or something. she was panicking. i need you to try and trace it."

batman hadn't needed to say anything, red robin had already begun to search for all state phone towers emitting a weird signal.

"springfield isn't turning up anything."

"no, no," constantine denied bruskly, "she mentioned another place, amity park. i don't know where the fuck that is, she's never talked about it."

oracle, from her corner of the computer wall, piped in, "jazz fenton was transferred to springfield's house for wandering girls when her family passed away in a house fire in amity park."

"why would she visit her family house after all this time?" batman mused.

"well," barbara continued, "says here the house was passed to her name when she came of age. maybe she finally wanted to check on it."

"she wouldn't just leave," constantine pressed, "she was obsessed with the ghost cases we've got going on."

red robin stopped his typing to read the silenced comm link blaring at the edge of the screen. "batman, we've got zatanna online."

"oracle, patch her through."

while zatanna spoke to oracle through her headset, red robin frowned at the messages on the terminal. signals across the town were poor, barely enough to reach springfield. anything further than that was a miracle connection. citizens would have to direct all communication to springfield before accessing the wider world. red robin tried pingponging the signal to other stronger towers but they were incompatible. his frown deepened. what obscure provider did they contract for the town?

"batman," oracle called, voice steely, "we've got news about arabia.

the pit disappeared."

---

"superman," spoke red robin's voice through his earpiece. clark winced. sudden calls with no warning were the bats' specialty, no matter how disliked it was.

"hello to you too."

"busy in metropolis?"

clark stared from his place in the sky at the traffic jam on the expressway. he shrugged, "no, not really."

"great, i'm sending you coordinates to jazz fenton, she works with the jld. 45 minutes ago her call to constantine cut off. it's the first time she's talked to him in two weeks, gone missing somewhere in illinois."

clark darted through the air, red robin's no-nonsense voice cluing him in on the severity of the situation. he didn't know jazz fenton nor constantine very well, but a fellow hero in need of help was always an important matter.

he zoned in on the blinking dot of his wrist watch - a justice league perk from the bat himself.

"any idea what i'm going to get?"

"not really," red robin drawled, "all we know is she sounded like she was in a panic. the location isn't hers, it's her phone signal before it cut off."

"alright, be there in 5."

---

tucker foley blew a bubble with his gum, letting it pop in boredom as he walked down the sidewalk. it was a sunny weekend afternoon, and the record store had sold out of chappell roan albums already. probably paulina again. he couldn't be too mad, it was probably the lesbian gods favoring an actual lesbian.

the town was a bit more busy than usual. it was thanksgiving week and all the out of state family members were passing by to reunite.

nobody in the hustle of the square really stood out; there went the baxters arguing about how many potatotes were needed for dinner, and mr. lancer with his new partner (a boston dentist, mrs. babette had whispered over the grocery aisle last week).

pulling out his phone, he dialed sam. they were meeting later tonight, but tucker felt it was important to pass on that the dentist was wearing gothic clothing.

just as sam muttered a clipped "what do you want?" from the receiver, two very strange things happened before tucker foley.

one, a weird object whizzed through the air, too fast for the naked eye to fully figure out. tucker thought it was superman, which would've been pretty cool, but it was probably a fighter jet from the nearby base. they'd never taken their jets out before, but what did tucker know about military operations?

secondly, and perhaps the most important one, was a flash of ginger hair out of the corner of his eye. he turned to look, and the figure hurrying down the street made his breath catch. distant memories of a boy's laughter rang in his head as he watched jazz fenton, older and looking harried, basically speedwalk with her phone in hand.

he choked as he swallowed his gum.

"sam," he whispered, the girl replying with a worried "tucker?"

"sam, i think i just saw jasmine fenton."

[gretavangroupie]

Vigilance (Chapter 20)

Word count: 28.0k

Pairings: Jake x Reader, Sam x Reader, Sam x OC, Jake x OC

Warnings: Alcohol, Cursing, Dramatic Themes. Smut Including: Kissing, Touching, Making Out, Light Degradation, Name Calling, Angst Including: Nightmares, Infidelity, Manipulation, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Toxic Themes, Arguments, Yelling, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Fighting, Extreme Portrayal of Sadness, Crying, Cheating on Partner, Abandonment, Heartbreak.

This story is a collaboration with my best pal @gretavanmoon.

JAKE POV

You toss the two metal suitcases haphazardly into the back of your Jeep, slamming the trunk door shut and rolling your eyes as you curse yourself for insisting on matching suitcases. You walk around to the driver's side to find Y/N buckled into the passenger seat, twisting her fingers together as she stares out the side window deep in her thoughts. 

You twist the key in the ignition and hear the engine roar to life as you step back out to say goodbye to the others. Y/N makes no moves to exit the car or say goodbye to anyone. She’s hardly spoken at all since this morning, and for that you were grateful. You couldn’t think of a single word she could possibly say that wouldn’t boil your blood.

You shut the door and walk over to Josh’s car, watching him load his own bags into his trunk.

“You outta here?” he asks.

“Yeah, see you in a few days?” you ask.

“You good to drive? You were pretty fucked up this morning…” he says, raising an eyebrow to you as he ponders back to the state he found you in. Drunk and alone at the bar at 7:00am.

“Yeah, just drank too much last night. Needed a little hair of the dog.” you lie, hoping he will buy it enough to just let it go.

“Right. Well, tell Y/N I’ll call her soon about next week.” he says, gesturing to the car.

You turn towards the car and scoff, nearly forgetting she was hired on.

“Yeah. Right. Well, see ya.” you say, smacking his shoulder and heading back to the car. 

“Later!” Danny yells from across the parking garage, helping Sam and Elle load their things into his car.

You lift two fingers towards him and nod your head as you pull the handle on the door. Sliding into the seat, you pull your phone from your pocket and turn on a playlist so loud, she has no choice but to remain silent for the entirety of the drive.

As you sit in traffic on the interstate you tap your fingers against the steering wheel. The sky is turning dark now, and your day of travel is wearing on you heavily. Couple that with your night last night and you’re ready to lock yourself away for a few days with little to no contact from the outside world.

As you stepped into the elevator this morning you weighed your options. Go to Josh’s room and be forced to tell him everything, or go to the bar and drink until you felt nothing. With the second option sounding better you found yourself slung back into the black vinyl chair of the lobby bar with a never ending lowball glass of Johnnie Walker.

As your brain started to slip back into that fuzzy state where real life didn’t exist, you started to scroll through pictures on your phone, reminiscing about the girl you thought you knew while shitty club music played in the background. 

After your third glass you felt a hand on your shoulder, and turned to find Josh stepping up behind you already speaking to the bartender.

“Hey man, can we close out?” he asks, sliding a card across the bartop.

“What the fuck are you doing Jake? Why are you in here? Where the fuck is Y/N? We have to get to the airport like, fucking now…”

“Dunno…don’t care…” you slur, attempting to stand from the barstool for the first time in what had to be hours. “Gotta piss…” you grumble.

“Where’s your shit? Are you packed? Please tell me you’re fucking packed.” he begs.

You spin your head around towards the doorway, pointing at your metal suitcase.

“Thank fuck.” he breathes, pulling you out the door, and grabbing your suitcase.

The next thing you knew you were falling into your seat on the plane, ordering another round. You had to. There was no way you could bear to spend five hours on a plane sitting next to her. You could hardly look at her. You tossed back the entirety of your drink before the plane even began to taxi the runway. Your eyelids felt heavy and you slumped down into your seat, resting your head on the window paying no mind to the woman sitting next to you. 

As the plane started to take off, you caught yourself instinctually reaching for her hand, but even in your drunken state you remembered what she’d done to you. To both of you. You pulled your hand into your lap, scrolling on your phone and pretending not to notice her fidgeting and white knuckle grip on the arm rest as the plane gained altitude. Serves her right. Where’s Sam now?

You must have fallen asleep shortly after your second drink, because the next thing you remember was Danny saying your name and shaking your shoulder, telling you to grab your shit. As you woke up fully and noticed her gone, you almost felt a sense of relief. That was, until you remembered she would be coming home with you. 

The alcohol had dissipated from your system enough that your mind was clear, but your body felt like you’d been hit by a truck. Maybe you had, it would have surely been less painful than the past twenty-four hours.

So here you found yourself, stuck on I-24 nursing a massive hangover desperate to be home in your bed and completely unsure and quite frankly, unbothered by your silent passenger, and her plans.

You turn your head to catch a glance at her, for what reason you don’t know, and even in the dark of the car’s cabin you can see her watery eyes and puffy face. If your anger weren’t so present in the forefront of your mind you might almost feel bad for her spending her day in this state. But it is, and you don’t, as you continue the trek back home.

—

You unload the bags from the trunk and lock the car, as you both make your way up the sidewalk and to the front door. She stands several feet away from you as you unlock the door, squeaking slightly as it swings open. 

You roll your suitcase straight into the bedroom, and shut the door behind you. You hear her stop at the door and her breathing hitch, as she rolls her suitcase to the guest room and quietly shuts the door. 

You kick off your shoes and fall back onto your bed, holding your hands over your face as you let yourself wallow for a few minutes. How did you end up back here? Back to feeling like shit over a woman?

You pull yourself up from the bed and strip down, desperate for a shower. Bathing away last night's mistakes and today's reminders your stomach growls, alerting you to the fact that you hadn’t eaten since the pretzels on the plane. 

Pulling on a pair of sweats you quickly run your fingers through your wet hair, and quietly step out of the bedroom. You pad down the hallway to the kitchen, and look through the pantry at what quick options you have to choose from, gathering a few things and making your way to the stove.

A few minutes later you find yourself pulling two bowls from the cabinet, out of pure instinct, setting them on the counter to fill them with the makeshift dinner you’d made. Instead you fill only one bowl, and grab one fork, pulling the last corona from the fridge before making your way to your bedroom and shutting the door.

Turning on the TV you scroll through endless options, not even letting your eyes glance at the show the two of you had been watching together, instead trying to find something you know she'd hate just to spite her. 

Choosing the first thing to pique your interest, you settled back into your headboard, and started to eat the quick pasta you were able to manage in your hungover state.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand and you look over at it, swallowing heavily as you see her name light up the screen.

You set down your food and grab your phone, sliding across the screen to open her message.

LD

8:04 pm: Can we talk?

No. You lock your phone and toss it onto the bed returning your attention back to your dinner and your show. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that wants to reply to her, but you push it away.

Bzz. Bzz.

With a huff you pick up the phone again seeing a second message from her. Instead of opening it you pull up her contact making a few changes before pressing done. You change your phone background from a photo of her to a default image, sending a stabbing feeling straight through your chest. You then scroll to your texts and swallow as you see her name as it truly is for the first time.

Y/N

8:40 pm: Can you please just say something?

Your heart twists in your chest as you read it, knowing she is hurting just as bad as you are. But again you remind yourself, neither of you would be here if she hadn’t slept with your brother.

You throw your phone to the bed again, leaving her on read as you grab your bowl and empty beer and make your way back to the kitchen to clean up. As you step up to the sink you notice the bowl and food you left for her still untouched and sigh. She hasn’t even left the room…

You place the pasta into the bowl and put it in the fridge, cleaning up the rest and returning to your bedroom. The bed is cold and empty without her, the sheets still faintly smelling of her, and her things scattered around. You would make sure to collect everything tomorrow and put it in the guest room. 

You turned off the light and grabbed your phone, clicking on your thread with her and deciding to send her a reply.

You

9:13pm: There’s leftovers in the fridge.

Y/N

9:14pm: Jake…Please talk to me. 

Y/N

9:15pm: I’m so sorry. 

Y/N

9:15pm: There’s no way you can hate me more than I hate myself right now. 

You

9:16pm: I don’t have anything to say to you, Y/N.

Y/N

9:17pm: Nothing? Just like that? That’s it?

You

9:18pm: That’s it.

—

HER POV

You place your phone on the nightstand by the bed as you swipe away the tears on your cheeks with the sleeve of Jake’s flannel shirt wrapped around you. You swallow back the remainder of the tears, dragging yourself to the kitchen to try to rehydrate. 

As you open the fridge you see the bowl of food graciously placed there for you by the man who should have left you in the hotel room in Vegas and never looked back. That’s what you deserved, and he almost did. That being the last time the two of you spoke.

Pulling the bowl from the microwave you stared at it. You could barely bring yourself to eat it, you were so full of guilt. It was consuming you, mind, body and soul. You made the ultimate mistake. Done something you could never take back. Lost the love of your life and made irreparable damage to your relationship.

After forcing yourself to eat through your tears, you went back into the guest room, burrowing yourself under the sheets and pretending you were anywhere but here. 

—

Your eyes open as you hear the front door shut, turning to look at the clock. 7:47am. What the hell is he doing up so early?

You grab your phone, and flip through your notifications, rolling out of bed and making your way to the bathroom. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror as you brush your teeth, still utterly disgusted with what you’ve done. You probably wouldn’t talk to you either if you were Jake. 

Dragging yourself to the kitchen, you find the coffee pot empty, but Jake’s used mug in the sink. Okay, you deserve that. You start a new pot and while you wait you put away the clean dishes; the remnants of the days before Vegas when the two of you danced in the kitchen to Sam Cooke. You swallow harshly as you close the dishwasher, hearing the coffee pot finish it brew and pouring the hot liquid into his favorite mug.

—

You spent most of the day collecting your things from around the house, gathering them all into the guest room in neat little piles as you tried to fit them into the few boxes you could find around the house. You knew things were beyond repair, and removing yourself from his orbit would be better than waiting for him to ask you to leave. You weren’t sure you would even be able to hear that. 

You did laundry, yours and his, but the hardest and worst thing you did today, came in the form of a tattered old flannel, once loved and cherished. Hugging it to your face one last time, you placed it on the edge of his bed, and returned to your packing. The real indication that things were over.

The sun had set and rain started to patter at the window of the guest room, a soft drizzle with the occasional thunder clap lighting the sky. The room was lit only by the dim yellow light of the lamp, and a candle flickering on the bedside table. Soft music was playing from your phone on the dresser as you folded clothes into cardboard boxes. 

The sound of the front door opening grabbed your attention, and you took a deep breath knowing he was back home. You heard him kick off his shoes by the door and the soft padding of his feet on the hardwood floors. A sound you knew you’d miss, stabbing you straight through the heart.

The door was open and you heard the sound grow closer as he made his way to the kitchen. You kept your head down and focused on your task as he walked past the door. Your eyes filled with tears at just the brief glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. You shook your head to clear your mind, and stood up from the floor. You walked to the edge of the bed, grabbing an armful of things and returning to your spot on the floor. You heard him walk back down the hallway and into his bedroom, before you heard his footfall once again.

With your back turned to the door, it came as a shock when you heard his voice as he stood in the doorway.

“What are you doing? Are you giving this back?” he asks, voice full of anger as he holds the flannel in his fist.

You took a deep breath as you turned to look at him, leaning against the doorway, his hair still wet from the rain as he twisted the fabric between his fingers, “It’s not mine anymore. It belongs to you…” you pause, “I think I have all of my things together. I won’t be much longer, I’m almost done.” you answer defeatedly.

“And you’re gonna go where…” he said, condescendingly as he furrowed his brow.

You hadn’t exactly thought about it. Maybe you’d call a friend. Get a hotel for a few days until tour started. Tour. Are you even still employed? 

“I don’t know. I’ll figure something out, I guess.” you answer, blinking back tears.

It’s quiet for a minute between the two of you, the tension so thick in the air you could cut it with a knife. He lets out a long exhale through his nose and takes a pull from the beer in his hand, as he stares at the rain streaks on the window, “Don’t… worry about it right now. Just deal with it when we get back from tour. We’ve got too much shit going on to try and worry about this too.” 

What?

Your eyes flick to his, meeting them for just a second. In that second you're sure you saw a flash of the same pain you’d been feeling at the thought of moving out. 

“It’s no big deal Jake. I know you don’t want me here. It’s not your problem to deal with, it’s mine.” you say. 

He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth stifling back what you knew he really wanted to say. He pursed his lips together and looked over at you again, “Deal with it after, Y/N.” 

Heat rises to your face as he looks at you and you keep your gaze trained on him as he turns to step out of the doorway. 

“I’m leaving in the morning. Make sure you lock up the house well when you leave for tour. Set the alarm, all that.” He says standing in the doorway. 

You want to ask him where he’s going. You want to know why and with who, but he doesn’t owe you that anymore. You’re lucky he even told you in the first place. This was how it was going to be now and you had no choice but to accept it. 

“You won’t be back? Be-Before tour starts?” You ask, the words spilling from your mouth as soon as you realized what he was saying. 

“No.” He says finally, stepping away with the shirt in hand. 

—

It’d been three days since Jake walked out the front door, two suitcases in hand and a backpack filled to the brim on his back. He’d loaded up his car the night before, carefully piling the guitar cases into the backseat and stuffing his other bags around them. You hadn’t spoken the night before he left, only stood in the doorway of the house, silently making your presence known in case he would need a hand. 

“Can I help you carry anything?” you’d asked as he brushed past you on the porch, the chill in the air shooting straight through your thin shirt. 

“No, thanks.” was all you received. “I’ll get the rest in the morning.” Flat. Blank. And quiet.

He hadn’t noticed, or at least he hadn’t said anything, but you’d spent the past couple of days doing his laundry for him while he’d be gone. Just like normal, you took specific care to separate his whites from his darks, and only dried the certain things he liked dried. The rest you hung lovingly on the laundry room hooks, letting the vent air dry them naturally. A task you once thought was just part of daily life, something so menial and mindless, now felt like a shot through the heart. Your one last way of taking care of him, one last good deed that you knew meant absolutely nothing to him now.

You breathed in the smell of his shirt, worn-in and soft, a few holes forming along the collar. It still smelled just like him, just like his favorite cologne, just like his natural scent. You committed it to memory, stashing it away forever, not knowing when you’d ever be met with it again. 

Three days you’d been alone, the sounds of the house settling, like explosions. It was quiet and rainy and you were missing the sweet familiar comfort of his bed. You suddenly found yourself wrapped in your favorite sheets and covered with the warmth of the duvet cover that smelled just like him. You’d tried to distract yourself by starting a new show, but when the TV powered on and showed the screen still paused right in the middle of a documentary he was watching, you felt a sick feeling you’d never felt before. It was like he was gone forever, his life still happening around him in his absence. So you watched the rest of it, and cried. And cried. 

None of it helped, the distractions were only a diversion from the real world, the thoughts of Jake coming back like a flood to your mind every few minutes. The guilt. The memory of the stairwell. The look on his face when he found out. You had made yourself utterly ill. 

On day four, you drug yourself out of bed, forcing yourself to shower after days of simply being too down to even move from the bed. After giving yourself the care you so needed, you stepped from the shower on auto-pilot, drying your hair and dressing yourself for another day of nothing.

For the first time in days, your phone buzzed on the sink. You glanced quickly, shocked to see that it even still had any battery charge.

Josh.

Josh:

10:37am: Hey there, care to chat a little bit later today about some details for tour? I know it's late in the game, but you don’t need much coaching.

The smallest smile reached across your face, simply from having contact from someone. He must not know. Has he even talked to Jake? Does he know where he is?

You

10:39am: Absolutely. Just tell me when!

Josh:

10:41am: I’ll call you in an hour. 

Confusion filled your body at the thought of Josh maybe not knowing what had happened. You knew that if he did, his words probably wouldn’t be as friendly as they were right now. You decided to play dumb for the time being. 

After a slightly awkward and mainly professional phone conversation with Josh about your new duties, you decided that maybe this tour wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe you could do this. Keep it professional. Drown yourself in your work, find things to completely submerge your attention in. But then you laughed to yourself. Easier said than done.

The afternoon was spent cleaning out the refrigerator of perishable items, and doing last minute things to lock up the house for the remainder of the winter months. You cleaned, you mopped, you dusted…every single inch of the house was spotless. You scrubbed the bathrooms down, washed all of the bedsheets and blankets, and took your time in shining the hard wood floors. 

You let your legs carry you up the creaky stairs, broom and cleaning products in hand. You rounded the corner to the loft, the soft evening light just barely peeking through the window above the desk, illuminating the makeshift art studio you’d created for him months ago. He’d been here, he’d used it. At some point recently, he’d broken in the pencils, sharpened them by hand with a blade, and had begun to fill the pages of the leather bound sketch book you’d gotten him. You felt like you were intruding on his personal space, and lurking in a place that wasn’t meant for your eyes, but you proceeded anyway, something urging you to flip through the already wrinkled pages. 

Doodles and words filled the thick paper, tiny sentences that didn’t make much sense yet…drawings of trees and scenes, little faceless people standing in lines holding guitars and instruments…unfinished poems that didn’t rhyme… all of it was dripping off the sides of the pages, pens scattered about the desk, the space already heavy with the essence of him and his brilliant mind. 

You felt a heavy pang in your chest as you continued flipping through, letting yourself have one last time to feel him when he wasn’t there. Finally, you got to a page you weren’t expecting. You turned the book sideways, taking in the image that at first, seemed like just a mess of lines and curves. 

It was you, your unclothed body posed on his vintage couch that sat across the room, sketched nearly perfectly from memory, with charcoal. All those nights ago, back when things were good, you were happy and so in love you couldn’t stand it, you’d walked him up the stairs covering his eyes, ready to surprise him with his gift. 

“Draw me like one of your French girls…”

“I can try, but I’ve never been good at charcoal…”

“Well, practice makes perfect, right?”

You glanced around the table again, noticing the tiny black pieces of chalk-like material dusted all over the desk. Your fingers lightly traced over the messy drawing, the details ratted, but there. A tiny dark line signifying your daisy necklace that he’d gotten you for your birthday, the length of your hair perfect for that point in time. Your hand draped perfectly over the back of your leg, and the features of your face drawn lightly and with near perfection. 

He’d drawn you from memory. The edges of the paper were stained with his fingerprints where he had lightly placed his nondominant hand in the charcoal dust while he concentrated. The swipes of his fingers in the leftover dust leaving behind a trail of light gray smudge. There was an open window in the drawing behind you, and he’d drawn a perfect rendition of the Little Dipper in the night sky, surrounded by hundreds of tiny dots representing stars. And there, perfectly in the corner, the date, and his signature. 

The tears came uncontrollably, falling from your face as your hand slowly found your mouth to muffle the sobs. What had you done? What had you thrown away? And for what? You couldn’t even bring yourself to think about Sam, or Elle, for that matter. You’d gotten yourself into a terrible disaster, and you had no clue how to even begin to fix it. 

You dried up the tears that were falling from your eyes, trying to collect yourself for the umpteenth time this week. You begrudgingly grabbed the broom and mop, ready to drown yourself in cleaning again, as you noticed the door to the old storage closet was left cracked open. Might as well clean in there too. You pulled the squeaky old door open, tossing your hand around to catch the chain to turn the old overhead light bulb on. 

Met with tons of stacked boxes and totes, clothes and blankets and odds and ends strewn about, your first reaction was to clean it all and straighten the mess. But as you began to sort through it all, you accidentally knocked a small box from the top of a pile, and the sound it made when it hit almost made you jump out of your skin. Guitar strum. You bent down to pick up the box, and apparently the old guitar he had, for some reason, stashed up here. What you found wasn’t at all what you expected. His acoustic, his first guitar, his most prized possession covered in tiny carvings of your memory, thrown into the old storage closet to collect dust. 

And you thought finding the drawing was bad…

The sobs that came again were the kind that ripped your chest in two, the kind that made you feel like a shell of a person…you fell to your knees and then to a seated position, holding your head in your hands as you let the pain rip through you in giant currents. Was this how he felt when you left him?

You sat there for an unknown amount of time, going through the motions of collecting yourself, once again. Your subconscious went into high gear, your brain telling you to protect yourself, that everything was going to be okay. But you knew it wasn’t. 

After cleaning as much as you could, you decided that it was time to feed yourself and settle in for the night. You decided to do one thing, though, before you shut the loft door behind you for good. You sat at his studio desk, and found the page with your drawing. You flipped it to the other side, and began writing Jake a note on the back. You poured your heart into it, everything you ever wanted to say to him, everything you already had said, and everything you could never bring yourself to admit. You laid it all out…your hopes and dreams with him, everything that you loved about him, and how totally and entirely sorry you were. The words would mean nothing, but at least he would have them.

You ran downstairs and found the red notebook that he’d given you for Christmas, full of his writings and notes and lyrics for you, and placed it gently on the small table in his study. You ran back into the kitchen, and plucked a single daisy flower from a bouquet he’d recently gotten you, already turning brown and drying out from lack of water. You peeled off every single petal except one, and you laid it right on top of the notebook. One last goodbye. One last ‘she loves you’. 

The house was clean now, every inch and nook and cranny was free of any dirt, and any memory of you. You owed him that much, at least, leaving him the clean slate you knew he’d want to return back home to.

Fuck. 

The home he loved. The home he had made his, the one he filled with everything that was him, leaving plenty of extra space for everything that was you, now nothing but empty shelves and blank spaces. He’d chosen this house with you in mind, thinking and praying that one day you’d be the one permanently there to help him fill it with love. Be the one he came home to every day, sharing the duties of taking care of a home together. And you were, until you threw it all in the trash. 

Your mind was going insane with horrendous thoughts and crippling guilt still; you wandered around the house until it began to get dark outside, trying to listen to music and think other thoughts, when all every song did was remind you of him. You cranked the surround speaker to its loudest volume, and filled the house with his favorite songs. It only felt right. 

After feeding yourself nothing but enough to survive, and finishing off the bottle of wine you’d opened a few nights ago, you curled up in bed, ready for the wine buzz to take you away. 

You didn’t know how long you’d been asleep when you woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing on the nightstand. Your eyes popped open to find the lights still on and the TV picture still rolling. You shook away the sleep, looking over to your phone as it gently scooted across the table as it vibrated. 

Shit. It’s Jake. Your heart fell and shattered, a million thoughts racing through your mind in the span of three seconds. 

You grabbed the phone, sliding his contact and bringing it to your ear. 

“Hello?” You shook out. 

“Hey, were you asleep?” He said quickly. 

“Uh, yeah…but not for long. What’s up?” You asked, noticing a slight sound of panic in his voice. 

“Um. I’ve got some…bad news…I guess. I talked to Jocelyn from the office earlier. It looks like Andy was released from jail yesterday.” He went on, trying to stay strong in his words. 

“What the fuck?” You breathed out, suddenly feeling fear now, instead of anxiousness from talking to Jake finally. “How…? How did he?”

“I’m not sure, I didn’t get many details, but it looks like his charges didn’t stick? Somehow, I have no idea how they didn’t…” he went on as your head began to spin into oblivion. 

“His family. They’re beyond rich, Jake. Well known. He has uncles and cousins that work from here to Washington…tons of lawyers in the family…and they are filthy. Rich. It has to be…there’s no way…they had to have known the judge, or…something…” you blabbed, your mouth speaking before your mind could process. “Fuck.”

“Must have been. Anyway, listen, just make sure you lock everything up really well tonight, ok? Windows and all…and I talked to Josh. He’s gonna come and get you tonight, to stay at his house.” Jake said, sounding as though his words were reluctantly coming from his mouth. 

“There should be a plane ticket in your email to come to Michigan. Leaves tomorrow morning.” He went on. 

You were surprised. “Michigan? You’re home?”

“Yeah. Wanted to come see Mom and Dad before we leave. Needed to just. Leave. Anyway. Josh will be there soon.”

You took a quick deep breath. “You didn’t have to do that Jake. I’ll be fine here, you don’t need to worry abou-“

“It’s already done. He should be on the way now.” He huffed. 

“Okay, thank you Jake, really. For doing this…I really appreciate it.” You swallowed. “I hope we can…talk soon…”

“Bye, Y/N.” He interrupted, and the line was dead before you could even finish your thought. You let the phone fall from your ear as a million emotions flooded your mind. He wanted you safe. 

Clicking the little white icon to open your email, you were met with an airline ticket forwarded straight from Jake. You opened it, reading over all the information. The message at the top of the email, though, struck you straight through your heart, sending you into a puddled mess of emotions. 

‘I’ll be there when you land…’

Your heart flipped over in your chest. What did it mean? Was he being..sweet? Cordial? Civil… the thought of him picking you up at the airport tomorrow made your palms sweaty. 

You jumped from the bed, running to collect everything last minute before Josh arrived. As you packed, you thought about Andy, and how the hell he was able to get out of this one. You’d do research. But not now. 

The nerves began to creep up as you finished speed-packing…could Andy be lurking around the corner? Outside? Would he find Josh as he was coming in the door? So many thoughts running through your head at once…

—

The knock on the door startles you in your already jumpy state, but as you look through the glass you see Josh, standing on the porch with his hands in his pockets. You rush over to the door, unlocking it and letting him inside. 

He is smiling but there is a touch of something else beneath the smile. Worry maybe?

“Hi Josh, come in!” you say, swinging the door open. 

“Hey Y/N… wow, I don’t think I have ever seen this place this clean.” He says, looking around.

“Yeah, I’ve been a little busy?” you laugh.

“It shows! I’ve gotta say I was a little shocked when Jake asked me to come pick you up tonight.” he says, shutting the door behind him.

“Oh…” you say looking to the ground. “...I’m guessing he told you why…”

“Yeah, asked me to come straight here and pick you up. Cashed in a twin token.” he chuckles.

“A what?” you ask.

“A twin token. It’s a long drawn out story, which typically I love, but I’m not going to lie, I was about to go to bed, and now I just simply do not feel like explaining our 9 year old minds at 11:00pm.” he smiles.

“Another time?” you smile, probably the first smile you’ve smiled in a week.

“I promise. I guess I’m just confused on why you aren’t in Michigan with him?” he asks, nervously.

You had to think quickly as you formulated some type of believable answer, “Oh, um, I had a few things I needed to do to get ready for tour, and he wanted to go visit your parents and have some one-on-one time with them. Decided I would go up when I had everything squared away here.” you lied.

His brow furrowed, as he studied you, and then relaxed, “Oh, okay. Well, are you… ready to go?” he asks.

“Yes, I just need to take these suitcases out, and lock up the place.” you answer. 

“I’ll take those, you lock up.” he says, grabbing your bags. “Oh! Hey, Jake asked me to grab his readers and send them with you. Do you know where they are?” he asks.

You swallow harshly, blinking back your emotion. He clearly has no idea what has happened. “Yes! I will grab them and meet you out there.” you say, making your way towards the bedroom.

As you open the door, you’re instantly assaulted by the smell of him woven into every fiber in the room. The bed, perfectly made, beckons to you as you remember countless nights wrapped in each other.

You pull out the drawer of his nightstand, spotting his black readers right where you thought they would be. You pick them up and put them into the case, but just as you go to shut the drawer, you also see something else that stops you dead in your tracks. Your breath catches in your throat as you spot the tiny green guitar pick sitting on top of a tattered photo of the two of you that used to live in his wallet. 

It crippled you to imagine him cleaning out his wallet and deciding that things that were once important enough to be carried with him everyday were now just clutter in a drawer of junk. A sob left your chest as you realized then, that he must have found the guitar pick in your things and decided to carry it with him again. He never mentioned it, just took it and placed it back where he knew it was safe and loved. But now was reduced to nothing as it sat in a drawer to be forgotten about.

You swallowed back your tears and shut the drawer, taking one final look around the room as you turned off the light and shut the door.

Walking around the house you double checked all the doors and turned off all the lights, closing up the home for the next few weeks. With a final scan of the room, you turned off the hallway light and set the security system, locking the front door behind you. 

You slid into the passenger seat of Josh’s Jeep and he twisted the key in the ignition, letting the car roar to life. The car smelled so different than Jakes, like new leather and clean laundry. You were sort of glad for that though, being trapped in the scent of him might send you spiraling again. 

Josh pulled out into traffic, heading towards his house, and as you looked down at your phone, reading his email for the twentieth time, you felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe he missed you as much as you missed him. 

—

JAKE POV

As the line went dead you laid your phone down on your chest, staring up at the ceiling of your childhood bedroom. Fuck. You paused for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts before picking up the phone and forwarding her the new flight information and ticket. 

Nine hours. It took nine hours for you to tell her after you found out. Eight and a half to tell Josh. But what took the least amount of time, but the most amount of willpower, was begging him to go pick her up from the house. Cashing in a chip you have held for so long. He didn’t even know that you were in Michigan. Asking you ‘why you were there’ and ‘why you didn’t tell him’. How do you tell someone that the same girl broke your heart for the thousandth time? That you couldn’t stand to look at her because everytime you did, it broke your heart all over again?

You needed to get out of there, clear your head. Be away from her and her pull. But even from here you could feel it. Typing a quick message into the top of the email, you hit send and watched it disappear. 

When you got the call this morning, your first thought was how it was even possible he could have been released from jail. But that thought was quickly replaced with, what could happen now that he was free. The worst part was that you weren’t even there if something did happen. You tried to push the thoughts from your mind, busying yourself with other things and hanging out with your parents. But all you could think about was him finding her, and hurting her or worse. 

As you slid into bed you found the intrusive thoughts starting to grow more intense, and finally you snapped. You called Josh, and had no choice but to agree to your begging. Tour started in a week, and you knew Josh would already be questioning why she wasn’t here to begin with. So you did the only logical thing you could think of and booked her a ticket for the first flight out. You just knew you couldn’t live with yourself if Andy got to her, no matter how mad you were.

Part of you expected her not to answer as the call rang out, but as her sleepy voice came through the line, you felt a sense of relief wash over you that she had been, in fact, sleeping soundly the whole time.

The second you hung up you missed her. Missed her tired voice and the way you knew she probably looked right now, with sleepy eyes and bedhead. Missed the way she would curl into your side while she slept, and the way she would subconsciously reach for you in her sleep. But it was gone. She ruined that, and now you had to find a way to live with it. 

It was a surprise to your parents when you arrived at their door. Of course they were more than thrilled to see you, but when you showed up alone, you were met with questions. You hated lying to them, but you knew that with everything going on, now was not the right time to stir up issues. So you told them she was busy with work, and trying to get things ready for tour. Told them she would try to come up if she got everything done, but made no promises and left it at that. 

Now, as you lay here you realize your fatal mistake. You were so worried about getting her out of Nashville you hadn’t considered what that meant. She would have to stay here, with you. Sleep in this bed, with you. Spend the next four days, day and night, with you. You would both have to pretend that nothing was wrong and be just as loving and affectionate as the last time your parents saw you together. That or tell the truth. Something neither of you were prepared to do just yet. 

So you would. You would keep up the illusion that things were okay. That you still loved her. That you were in love with her. Like it was never a thought in the world that she would fuck your brother. It was all you could do. 

Y/N

11:57pm: Made it to Josh’s, thank you for sending him.

A sigh of relief left your chest knowing she was safe with Josh. It was killing you to pretend you didn’t care. You did, and you always would, despite loving her or hating her. 

You

12:00am: Text me when your plane is boarding.

Y/N

12:01am: Okay. Goodnight.

You swallowed harshly as you locked your phone and slid it onto the nightstand before rolling over in the bed. You closed your eyes and sighed, knowing that tomorrow you would see her and talk to her face to face for the first time in days, but even worse, that you would have put on the facade that she didn’t rip your heart out of your chest just a few short days ago.

—

Your fingers tap nervously on the center console of your car, watching the people begin to file out of the arrival doors. Your parents were excited when you told them where you were off to this morning, but you didn’t share the same feelings. You were nervous. Anxious. You’d gone over what you were going to say to her nearly a hundred times. You were ready.

Your knee bounced as you waited to catch a glimpse of her, as she walked out the door to find you. It’s just Y/N. You’ve seen her a thousand times. You don’t even want to see her, remember?

Just then, you caught sight of her. Her hair blowing in the wind across her face. Looking left and right for any sight of your car. You blew out a deep breath and stepped out of the car, walking around to lean on the front. She looked at you, nearly stopping in her tracks, before collecting herself and making her way to you. 

Her eyes met yours as she came closer, quickly looking away as she finally stepped up to you. 

“Hey.” she says, nervously.

“Hi, how was your flight?” you ask, out of courtesy.

She swallows, before looking at you again, “It was okay, a little bit of turbulence…” 

You nod and grab her suitcases, tossing them into the trunk. “You ready?” you ask.

She nods her head and opens the passenger door, stepping into the car. 

As you pulled out into traffic you let out a sigh, shaking your head. You could have never imagined you’d find yourself in this position. Now you had to lie to your parents. To your brothers. To everyone. Or did you? Should you just tell them? Show them who Y/N really was?

The drive was spent in silence, neither of you wanting to make the first move to talk. You knew you had to tell her. As the minutes until arrival grew smaller, you gathered up the courage and took a breath. 

“They don’t know. I haven’t said anything. They think I’m just here visiting for fun before tour.” you say.

“Oh.” she says, clearly surprised. 

“I’m not going to tell them. Not now at least.” you admit. 

“What do you–” 

“We’re going to act normal. At least until we leave for tour. I don’t want to stir up a bunch of shit with my family before we leave.” you say.

“So…” she pauses, “Why did you want me to come here? I could have just stayed with Josh?” she says.

“Because, like I said, no one knows anything. You not being here already raised questions. Josh asked too. It’s just easier to have you here, even if I don’t actually want to be around you.” you say, realizing your delivery was fairly harsh.

You see her swallow back the lump in her throat, and her fingers twist together.

“So here’s what needs to happen…” you pause, “...When we get inside, none of this…” you say, pointing between the two of you, “...ever happened.”

She crinkles her brows as she looks at you. “Okay, so… you’re saying you want me to just… act normal…” she questions.

“Pretty much. I’m going to talk to you, touch you, be around you just like usual. But here’s the thing…” you pause. “It means nothing. Because it did happen. This is to… keep up appearances so to speak. For my convenience and yours. The second that bedroom door shuts each night, the performance is over. You go back to nothing.”

You see her nod her head, a solemn look on her face. Her eyes blink rapidly to fight off the tears threatening to spill out as you pull into your parents driveway. You put the car in park and turn it off, turning to look at her. 

“Got it?” you ask.

She looks at you, face riddled with sadness as her voice sounds so small, “Yeah.”

“It’s either this, or you can tell them what happened. Your choice. But we both know you aren’t too inclined to tell the truth, are you Y/N…” you say, settling back into the seat. 

“No. It’s fine, I can do it.” she says, shaking her head.

“Yeah, I figured you’d say that.” you scoff throwing the car door open. You make your way to the trunk, grabbing her suitcases and walking around to the front of the car to meet her.

“Alright, you ready, baby?” you ask, knowing full well that these next few days were going to hurt her more than she could even anticipate. You’d make sure of it.

—

After sweet but fake ‘hellos’  with your parents, lots of hugs and catching up, the afternoon turned into dinner plans and more visiting, leaving little to no room by yourself. You’d pulled out all the shots, trying to be as affectionate as you could with Y/N, even going as far as to kiss her on the cheek. Everything felt so strange and foreign, forcing yourself to put on your best happy face when all you wanted to do was lay everything out on the line. Expose all the secrets. But you couldn’t. Not yet. 

The plan was for you to cook with your dad, a fun old tradition that you actually hadn’t done in quite some time, and you were actually very excited about it. One of your grandma’s old recipes for Polska Kielbasa and cabbage with all of the appropriate sides. Your mom had asked Y/N to run to the store with her to pick up supplies. You’d let her deal with that one on her own. 

After they left, you and your dad spent some time rummaging through an old closet that they were in the middle of cleaning out when you showed up. They were pulling out everything from old boxes of baby clothes, home videos, photo albums, and books. You’d spent the majority of your time here already reminiscing on childhood memories while your dad scoured his old high school yearbooks. 

The closet was long and narrow, shelves lining both walls and both were stuffed full. It was like a treasure trove. You’d even managed to find your first old plastic guitar and karaoke set, a toy you and Josh never even knew would set you up for a journey you never thought you’d find yourselves on. 

The distraction was welcome, burying yourself in memories, happy memories, that you knew would never break your heart. These were solid ones. After almost an hour of sitting on the floor with one of your old guitar tab books from middle school, you heard the front door swing open and your mom’s voice echo through the house. 

“Hellooo, we’re back! Time to get cooking!” She sang as you heard grocery bags hitting the countertop. Dread again. You drug yourself up from your seat, stretching your legs as you stood. 

“Let’s go, Pops. Time to fry.” You said as you placed your hand on his shoulder and ducked out of the low ceilinged room. 

You walked into the kitchen and began pulling everything from the bags and opening the contents. You almost forgot that Y/N was even in the room for a second, your brain working overtime in trying to forget about her. 

“How was the closet?” She asked quietly. 

“What?” You responded, the sound of her voice sending a shock to your system. 

“The closet, did you find anything cool?” She asked again. 

“Oh yeah, found some old guitar stuff from middle school, some books and stuff. Old baby toys…” you drifted off as you washed your hands, noticing how quiet the room had become. Shit, appearances. 

“And how was the store, love? Did mom talk you into getting the good wine?” You asked, smiling through your words as you walked toward her, putting your wet hands all over her face. 

She laughed instinctively, pushing you away in a fit of giggles as you covered her face with your soaked hands. You grabbed around her, pinning her arms down while you patted the water onto her cheeks.

“Jake, quit! Come on!” She yelled as you chased her back, flicking the water onto her again. Her laugh…like music to your ears. And her smile, playful and hopeful and bright…all to come to a screeching stop as you both remembered that it wasn’t real. You backed away, disconnecting yourself from her and drying your hands as your headspace went from happy to devastated. 

“Yes Jacob, we got the good wine. We’re celebrating!” Your mom answered, popping the cork off. “Would everyone like a glass? Maybe we should have gotten three bottles…” 

As the night went on, the tension fell away and built itself up again more times than you could count. Everytime your eyes met, the look on her face was pure adoration, longing for you to hold her again, pull her back into you, and love her like she knew you did. But that was the thing. Did was the key word. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t love her anymore, but you hadn’t had time to process your feelings yet. And you knew that was okay. You were valid in thinking that you needed time. She’d committed the utmost offense, and whether or not you decided to forgive her was going to be on your own accord. And for right now, the way you felt, it didn’t look too promising. Time. Process. And you owed yourself that much, at least. 

After dinner, your mom retreated back into the closet, pulling Y/N in with her. 

“Come here, I have something to show you kids.” She muttered. You took a seat on the couch, knowing that adding another person into the closet would be too crowded. You sipped your wine as you watched them rummage. The two most important female figures in your life, standing and laughing together as they looked through your family mementos. Well, once most important. It almost felt wrong now, letting Y/N pilfer through these personal items that meant so much to your family, when obviously she didn’t care about meaningful things at all. 

“Here it is!” You mom yelped. “I knew I had stashed it away. Come here honey, come sit.” Your mom came and planted herself directly beside you on the couch, turning on the overhead light and patting the seat beside her for Y/N. 

“Look at this.” She said, placing a thick green photo album on her lap. “Summer 1993-1997. This is right when we started running around with your parents a bit more, Y/N.” 

She opened the book to show the pages of clear plastic covering old Polaroids and film photos, some ratted and torn and written on. 

“Look, this is when we all used to go to the lake. You know we started the 4th of July tradition you kids still do now?” She peeled back the plastic covering and removed the photo, flipping it over to read the back. She handed it to Y/N. “That’s me and your mom and Lori…Lord, look at us! All tan and cute. 1994. Kelly, wasn’t that the year that Dan bought that boat?” 

“Yeah, I think it was! That old piece of shit, we patched it more than we took it on the water. Almost sank on us a few times…” your dad laughed. 

You watched as Y/N’s eyes lit up, seeing old photos that she’d never seen before, her parents and yours at almost your age now, having fun and living their lives together. Just like you were. Just like you did. 

“Not a care in the world, huh Kelly?” She continued flipping through. “Oh, this! This was the day I told your mom I was pregnant with twins!” She leaned her shoulder into you, pushing you into the arm of the couch. You smiled hard, you weren’t sure you’d ever seen that picture. 

“And how did that go over, Mom?” You laughed. She handed you the photo, showing her and Y/N’s mom’s cheeks pressed together, smiles plastered across their faces, Y/N’s mom’s hand resting gently on your mom’s belly. You felt your heart sink, two young best friends not having a clue their kids would grow up and find themselves where you sat right now. 

“Went good. They were so happy for us…She threw me the most perfect baby shower six months later.” Your mom chased away a little tear that had formed, then placed her hands on both your and Y/N’s knees, patting them harshly.

“Then a few years later pretty little Y/N came along. Now look at you two. So happy together, we never would have even thought…anyways. We’re just so happy you two found each other again. You guys are really made of the good stuff.” 

Hah, if you only knew, Ma. 

She sighed again, as you made quick eye contact with Y/N, her eyes welling up as she clenched her jaw. You bit your lip back, feeling, for some reason, crushing guilt yourself. You couldn’t pinpoint why, but it hurt. 

“Then Daniel then Sam…ugh you kids. We love ya.” She patted your knees again and used them for leverage as she stood from the couch. “I’m going to refill my glass, you kids keep looking.” She tossed the album back onto your lap, as you and Y/N moved toward each other just a touch on the couch. 

You could feel her body tense as she carefully articulated her movements, leaning in toward you, but not too much. You flipped through the pages, trying to make small and basic conversation as you found pictures all the way up to the summer you and Josh were babies. You felt her sigh deeply, obviously feeling the same crushing sadness you felt. Hers was probably much, much worse though. 

The evening was drawing into night, and you began to feel an anxious feeling in your stomach at the thought of sharing your tiny full-size bed with Y/N. Your mom had already retreated to bed for the night, and the remaining three of you had joined in the living room to watch a movie. Reluctantly, you’d motioned to Y/N to cuddle into your side as you reclined, leaving your arms behind your head so you didn’t have to touch her. Still yet, the feeling of half her body laid back on yours felt so…strange. It was almost foreign but also the most comfortable you’d been in days. Why? Why did this have to be happening? 

Halfway through the movie, you felt Y/N’s breathing steady out, her chest rising and falling as she fell asleep. This is probably the best she’s felt in days, too. Fuck. You let her fall into a deeper sleep before you pulled her off of you a bit and resituated yourself on the seat. 

When the movie was over, your dad stood and stretched. “Jacob, come with me for a second.” He whispered. You stood, puzzled, and followed him into the dining room. In the dim light of the room, you watched as he opened a drawer in the old China cabinet, carefully opening it and removing something small. He walked back to you, lowering his glasses as he spoke quietly.  

“The past couple of days have been very sentimental for your mom and I…seeing all this old stuff we haven’t seen in years. Figuring out what we want to keep and what we consider junk. It’s been…a lot of fun. So it kind of got me thinking…” 

He handed you a tiny white cotton drawstring bag, embroidered with the initials AJK in tiny blue lettering on the front. 

“I want you to have this.” He said. “Go ahead and look inside.”

You pulled the drawstrings apart carefully, and gently poured the contents into your hand. 

“This was my grandmother’s engagement ring, your great grandmother’s. I don’t know how I ended up with it, but. It landed in my lap, and I gave my mother’s to your mom, so.” He went on, his voice low and genuine. 

You felt your entire soul shatter into a million pieces as the delicate gold band with one tiny diamond tumbled into your hand. 

“Dad…I…” 

“I know, it’s not much, but. It’s an heirloom. I don’t know much about what your plans are, son, but. I felt inclined to give this to you. I think it belongs with you. Just, keep it, for a while. You know. Or, keep it here, if you’d rather. Until you want it back, it will be safe in this drawer. But it’s yours. And I’m not taking it back.” He smiled his giant cheeky grin as he placed a hand on your shoulder. 

What do you do now?

You bit your lips together, and bravely brought your eyes to his. You nodded slowly. “Thanks, dad. It’s…it’s perfect. Thank you.” You managed to choke out. He patted your shoulder one last time before he walked off toward his room. 

“Goodnight, Jake.” 

“Night dad.” You stood still in the barely-lit room, too stunned to move and too unsure to think. You slid the ring carefully back into the bag, and pulled the drawstrings closed. You gently tucked it back into the drawer, closing it back quietly. 

Maybe he should have given that ring to Sam. 

—

You padded back into the living room, and grabbed the remote to turn the TV off. You looked to Y/N, still sleeping soundly cuddled up on the couch. For a split second you let yourself look at her, her face relaxed and hair a mess, hands tucked under her face as a pillow. You debated on waking her up at all, but you knew your parents would ask questions if they woke up and she was stuck on the couch. You gently shook her shoulder, speaking quietly so as not to wake her too suddenly. 

“Hey, hey Y/N wake up.” The word ‘babe’ almost slipped from your lips. You shook her a little rougher, jostling her awake. Her eyes opened slowly and she smiled the tiniest smile at seeing your face. “Do you want to go sleep upstairs or stay here?”

“Um, should we…for the sake of your parents…?” she asked, sitting up. 

“Yeah, I guess so. Let’s go.” You turned and started up the steps, not waiting for her to follow.

Entering your bedroom felt strange, especially knowing that the bed you’d made yourself comfortable in the past few days was now going to be half-taken up by her. She slipped in the door behind you a few seconds later, rummaging through her small suitcase that she’d packed with just enough until you got to the hotel. 

“I’m gonna go take a quick shower, if that’s okay.” She said, standing with some clean clothes clutched to her chest. 

“Yeah, that’s fine. Should be clean towels in there.” you responded, sitting on the edge of your bed. You were thankful she had decided to give you some privacy to change, and you thought about not even taking your shirt off. This was so fucking strange. Just not too long ago, you never would have guessed you’d be having these thoughts, having to think these things being in her presence. Your girl, your world…now you were nervous to even sleep beside her. 

Then again, this was your bed, your room, your house. She was the guest. You changed into a pair of shorts, and slipped under the covers, leaving plenty of space beside you for her. You took a quick deep breath to ground you for the awkward night ahead. 

You scrolled on your phone for a little while while she showered, checking your emails reluctantly for anything from Richard. You���d all but forgotten that was now your main means of communication with him. When you found nothing but some run-of-the-mill updates and schedules, you plugged your phone into the charger and laid it on the nightstand. 

A few minutes later, she quietly pushed the door open, and came back into the room. Her hair was still damp and wavy, and her long t-shirt hung down to her knees over her oversized sweatpants. Always your favorite way to see her. You forced yourself to pull your eyes away while she kneeled and repacked her bag a bit, pulling it over closer to yours so she could close the door all the way. 

“Hey, do you happen to have any toothpaste I could use?” she asked. “I’m sorry…”

“Uh yeah, it’s in my little clear bag over there. Did you not bring any?” you replied.

“Well I’d been using this travel size one but it ran out, and you kind of, took ours, so.” she said, not turning around.

Fuck. ‘Ours’.

You cleared your throat. “You can use that one.”

“Thanks.” she said blankly as she reached into your suitcase to grab your toiletry bag. When she did, her motions stopped altogether. You followed her line of vision to the pile of clothes strewn throughout the bag. The flannel. Fuck. You watched as her eyes locked on it.

“I brought it on accident. I meant to donate it before I left.” you said running your tongue over your lips. 

“Donate it? But it's your favorite fl-” 

“It was your favorite flannel, Y/N. I only kept it because you loved it. So now I’ll donate it.” you said sharply, the words hurting coming from your mouth. 

She stared at it for a few more seconds, running her fingers over the collar before going back to the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she returned, she flipped the light off and got into bed quickly, wasting no time in crawling under the thick sheets. There was a brief awkward moment where the only light in the room was coming from your old nightlight, lighting the room up just enough that you could barely see the features on her face. 

The smell of her body wash suddenly filled your senses, a scent you hadn’t experienced in years. You were overwhelmed with memories of years past, overtaken with the full essence of her. You were so used to her smelling like you, that you’d forgotten all about it. Floral, sweet, and earthy. It made your head spin. 

She had laid down on her back, and turned her head slightly to meet your eyes. This was normally the time when you kissed her goodnight, reminded her how much you loved her, told her to sleep well and have the sweetest of dreams. But instead, you held each other’s gazes, eyes searching one another’s for answers to stop the pain you both were in. 

The eye contact was intense. This was the first you’d truly looked at her in days. You watched as her stare drove deeply into yours, her lip quivering ever so slightly as she fought back the same tears you were about to let flow yourself. But you caught them. Swallowed them down and broke your look away. You flipped on your side with your back to her, stuffing your old pillow under your head. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” you said. 

You felt her stir on the other side of the bed. “Goodnight, Jake.”

—

You were dreaming of being on stage again, the crowd a mass ocean of swaying hands and screams…everyone was happy and smiling, excited to be there in the space with you again. You were playing your guitar, but it felt odd in your hands. It was growing from five times its size, then shrinking back down to so small, you could hardly hold it. You couldn’t get a hold of it, and even stranger, it wasn’t making any sound. You felt the strings on your fingers, felt the vibration, but heard nothing. Just silence. You fought like hell to watch it, squeeze it and hold it at its normal size, but all it did was grow and shrink. You were growing more aggravated, the crowd still going wild and screaming while you struggled…

…Screaming…quietly, but loud enough that it woke you…the bed was moving and bouncing, and you felt an arm come across your torso, landing on you hard. Another loud yell filled your ears as you came all the way to, your eyes finally popping open as you woke up. What the hell? You looked over to Y/N as she kicked the bed covers off, twisting and turning in the bed, rolling her body from side to side and into you as she fought. Fuck, she’s having a nightmare. 

You sat up in the bed, trying to figure out how to go about this one. You hadn’t seen her this bad yet. 

“Get the fuck off of him! Andy, fuck you! Stop! He’s gonna fucking die! He can’t breathe…!”

You listened to her try to form coherent sentences in her dreamstate, slurring her words as she let them haphazardly fall from her lips. She was grinding her teeth and contorting her face in the worst way. 

“Jake! Please…breathe… Jake wake up please breathe, baby…”

“Jake! Please, please don’t leave me…”

God damnit, she was dreaming about you. And Andy. And the day that changed everything. 

“Y/N, hey! Wake up!” you said gently, trying not to scare her. You grabbed at her hands as she writhed and pulled them away.

“No! Andy don’t fucking touch me! Get off of him!” she blabbered. 

She was fighting you hard now, her limbs flailing around as she fought Andy off of you in her dream. The tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she was fighting for her own breath. You blew in her face, trying to stop her sobs, to hopefully wake her up enough that she could stop the nightmare. 

She finally started to calm down just a little bit, a thin sheen of sweat already formed across her head and face. You grabbed her hands again, holding them tightly as she slowed her movements. She was breathing so heavily and quickly you thought she might hyperventilate...so you blew in her face again.

“Calm down, Y/N…it's just me...it’s Jake…I’m okay, I’m alive… I’m right here…” at this point, you were close to panicking yourself, just watching her fight off this demon of a dream. You moved your hands up her arms as she ceased fighting you, pulling her in toward you, holding her close as she fought her breath. Her breathing finally caught as she began to wake up. You pet the back of her head trying your best to wake her up peacefully. After a few minutes, her yelps and breaths turned into slow sobs as she brought her arms up to wrap around you. She was crying for real now, her body still shuddering from fear.

“Jake…you’re okay. Are you here? Are you really alive?” she rubbed your back like she thought you might disappear if she pulled away. 

“Yeah, I’m here...Andy didn’t get me, I’m right here…Just us.” you spoke quietly. 

She continued crying into your shoulder for a bit longer while she came completely awake, and realized what she had just gone through. Finally she pulled away quickly from your embrace, her hand covering her mouth as she realized. She backed all the way off, her eyes wide with understanding. 

“Oh my god, Jake, I’m so sorry…did I? Did I have another one?” she said, keeping her hand over her face. 

“Yeah,Y/N, you did. And it was a bad one. Worst I’ve ever seen…” you responded.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry. That was…yeah that was a bad one. God, did I hurt you? I feel like I was thrashing around…” she looked around, seeing the bed sheets torn up and messy. 

“You were thrashing, but no, you didn’t hurt me.” 

Yes you did. You hurt the fuck out of me just now, Y/N. Scared me to death. 

“Good, Okay. Fuck.” She stood from the bed, taking the covers and straightening them out as she continued to fight off the deep residual sobs fighting her chest. “I’m so sorry…”

“Stop apologizing, Y/N. You can’t help those things. It’s okay.” you said, feeling suddenly so, so sorry for her. “I’m just glad I was here, I guess…” you trailed off as she sat back down gently. You watched as she used the end of her t-shirt to wipe her face and dry her eyes. 

“I’m glad you were too. I’m really, really glad you were…” She extended her hand to you, leaving her palm up. “Jake, are you ever going to let me talk to you? Are you ever going to let me fix this?”

You glanced at her hand, and back to her face, swallowing hard as you contemplated an answer. 

“I’m not sure that this is something that can be fixed, Y/N, I hope you know that. I’m really, really serious.” you whispered, leaving her hand where it was. “You did this to us…”

She pulled her hand back and set it in her lap as she fought back another round of tears that decided to come anyway. She turned away and laid back down, pulling the covers over her head as she situated herself for sleep again. 

You both lied in silence for a while as you listened to her cry, your heart absolutely breaking for her. Why did you feel bad? She fucking cheated on you, and you feel bad for her? The feelings were backwards…it should be her consoling you, right?

“Y/N, stop crying, please…” you whispered into the heavy room air, the overwhelming feeling to hold her coming over your entire body. You knew her nightmare had been set off by Andy being out of jail, and you rushing her here so quickly, and all the stress of everything that had just happened…all before leaving to live out of a suitcase for the next few months. You knew her mind was probably not a very happy place right now. 

She rolled over a little bit, staring at the ceiling. 

“I’m so sorry, Jake. I am so, so fucking sorry. There’s nothing in the world I can say to take back what I did. I know you don’t want me anymore. And I understand that. I’ve accepted that. I’m ready to face the facts about the mistake I made. I just want you to know that I truly love you so fucking much it hurts me. And I am so sorry. I’ll never be able to explain how much regret I have. I could go on for days… I wanted everything with you, the whole nine yards and I fucked it up. I fucked it all up.” She said, mumbling through her tears. 

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to hear that. And I’ve got so much more to say. Just…thanks for letting me talk.” 

She rolled back over, still sobbing into the pillow. You sighed heavily, arguing with yourself about what to do. You still loved her, of course you did. But you couldn’t do this, not right now. 

You snaked your hand under the sheets, finding exactly where her hand was balanced on her leg. You grasped it, holding it tightly for a few seconds before letting it just sit in yours. Way down deep in the depths of your human need for contact and touch, you felt happy letting her hold your hand. But just this much. And just for tonight. 

—

HER POV

The days drug on the same as they did when you were home alone in Nashville, except they were sprinkled with little activities here and there that distracted you from everything. You had been thinking about going and staying with your parents for a few days, and you finally decided to act on it. It might do you some good. And you really missed them. 

“Hey I’m going to go stay at my mom and dads the next couple of nights…just wanted to let you know. I’ll be back the day the rest of the guys come home.” You told Jake one day as you returned from the most awkward “lunch date” you’d ever been on. 

“Oh, okay. Sounds good.” He responded as he got out of the car and headed toward the house, not having a single care if you followed closely behind or not. 

You returned to the house and went upstairs to grab your bag, and repacking most of your things. You’d do laundry at your parents’. You stood, taking off back downstairs to wait for your dad to pick you up. Everyone was gathered in the kitchen area doing dishes and cleaning, and you walked up to the island where Jake sat, fingering through another old photo album he found. 

“What are these?” You asked, placing a hand uncomfortably on his shoulder. 

“Oh, our great grandfather was in WWII. He and his wife had a whole bunch of kids, just wrapping my head around who’s who.” He responded, not looking at you. 

“That’s really cool, babe. I hope you figure it out.” You said as you heard your dad pull up in the driveway. You leaned down and placed a quick peck on his cheek as you headed toward the door. 

“Bye guys! My dad’s here. I’m going to my parents for a couple days. I’ll be back soon.” You said as you waved goodbye to Jake’s parents. 

“Oh, I’ll walk you out!” Kelly said. “Wanna say hi to your dad.” He opened the door for you and followed you out. 

You turned and shared one last glance with Jake, his face sullen and sad, but showing no sign of effort to come and say goodbye. 

You walked out to the car as your dad stepped out to hug you, then turned to Kelly for a hug and some conversation. You opened up the trunk to throw your bag in and rearrange a few things as you did so, giving the dads a minute to chat. You realized you were going to be wearing the same clothes over again as you fingered through the dirty clothes, but it was easier than digging through your carefully packed one you were taking on tour. 

You sighed, closing the trunk closed as the chilly wind picked up. When the door shut, Jake was standing there by the car. 

“Fuck! You scared me…” you yelped. 

“Sorry, um. If…anything happens tonight, in the middle of the night, just. Call me, ok? I’ll…talk you through it…” he said softly, standing with his hands in his pockets. 

His words struck you. He hadn’t said as much as two sentences to you in days, now he’s offering to give you comfort if you had another nightmare? It must have been a bad one…

You nodded quickly. “Okay, yeah. I will. I hope not, but. Thanks, Jake.” 

You both walked around to the passenger side of the car as the dads were saying goodbye. 

“Jake, good to see you again.” Your dad said as he shook Jake’s hand, and brought him in for a quick hug. “I’ll take good care of our girl for the next couple of days, promise.” He joked. You watched as Jake’s face fell into an expression that you knew hurt him. Our girl. 

“Ah, thank you, sir. I know she’s in good hands. Hey, tell the Mrs. hello for me…” he responded. 

“Will do.” He said, stepping away. He and Kelly stood awkwardly for a second, waiting to not be rude as you and Jake said goodbye. Fuck, what now? They’re expecting you to…

You looked to Jake as he quickly glanced around, also realizing they were waiting for you to say goodbye properly. 

“It’s ok, kids. Say your goodbyes. We know you’re grown.” Kelly said. 

Jake cleared his throat and stepped toward you just as the wind picked up again, blowing tiny flecks of snow across your faces as his hands found your elbows. You looked to him, eyes wide and breath baited as he inched himself closer. The look on his face was anxious, like he was going with his gut when he really didn’t know what else to do. 

Within seconds, the gap closed, and his lips touched yours, light, cold, and sweet…your eyes closed on their own as his grip on your elbows tightened, and you let yourself step closer into him. You exhaled slowly, letting yourself feel the fireworks explode in your brain. You felt warm all over, a stark difference compared to the temperature outside blowing through your jacket. 

You felt his lip tremble across yours as he parted his lips a bit, giving you the tiniest taste of him. It felt like it had been years. He tasted so good that you were melting, letting the snow and wind blow your hair in such a way that it was tangling with his, a wild mess of strands hiding your faces from the outside world for this tiny span of time. Just you and him again, nothing had ever felt so right. He moved his hands from your elbows to your waist, feeling his hands grasp your hips in such a way that you knew he had to feel it, too. God, Jake. 

Your hands quickly drifted to touch him, too, your fingertips grazing his sides as he squeezed you. The explosions happening inside your brain were like shooting stars gliding across the sky by the hundreds, all different colors and sizes, shooting directly from you to him. The electricity was insane. 

He pulled away quickly, clenching his jaw as you watched him fight himself. Then he reconnected after just a split second, this time with a little more heat involved. His mouth was open on yours, his tongue grazing your bottom lip as he brought his fingers around your hips, his thumbs digging in as he pulled you closer. Fire. Pure flames. He brought his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb running directly under your eye, calloused and cold. That feeling alone made you want to dissolve. His touch was so desirable and so missed, and you found yourself craving more, right there in front of your dad and his. 

Then suddenly, it was over. A five second kiss that felt like all you had been yearning for for a hundred millennia. Over in the blink of an eye. He pulled away with a defeated exhale, looking directly into your eyes. 

“Bye, baby. Call me if you need me.” He squeezed your elbows again, and turned back toward the house. 

��

A couple of days spent with your parents was always the medicine you didn’t know your soul needed. Their love was always so unending, so real and solid. You had fun with them, too. Cracking corny jokes with your dad, doing art and cooking with your mom…watching old movies until you all fell asleep on the couch. 

You and your mom were sitting at the tiny kitchen table, talking about anything and everything as you shared a kettle of chamomile. 

“How are the Kiszka’s? I haven’t seen them in a while…” your mom asked, stirring her teacup. 

“They’re great! I stayed there last night, they were cleaning out an old closet and found all these old photo albums and stuff. Karen actually found an album with tons of photos with you and dad in it. At the lake, before any of us were born.” You replied. 

“Oh my gosh! Those were the days, honey! We had so much fun…always getting into trouble somewhere.” She laughed. “I could tell you some stories, that’s for sure.”

Actually…

Without a word, you dashed into your bedroom, finding the few photos you’d completely forgotten Karen had given you to give to your mom. You ran back into the kitchen and presented them to her. 

“Oh my goodness! Look at us! Honey, come in here and look! I’m not sure I’ve ever seen these!” You smiled as your parents were overjoyed to see little pieces of their past captured on paper. 

“This is when we almost sank the boat at the lake…oh! And this is when we went on that overnight hike up near the lake and camped. Oh, honey, remember you got poison ivy?” The joy that was emanating off of them was so cute to watch. 

“Oh, Y/N! This is when Karen told me about the babies! We were so happy. So terrified, we cried for hours…then we invited Lori over and told her, too. We sat up until the sun came up talking about how excited we were…”  she went on. 

“She told me you threw her a baby shower.” You smiled. 

“Yes, we did. They got so much stuff, and double! We had diapers stashed at everyone’s houses.” 

They continued to flip through the photos. “I can’t believe that just a few short years later you were born. And Sammy and Danny. Feels like just yesterday we were chasing you all around.” You watched as your mom reminisced. 

“Do you remember your, what was it, fourth birthday party? Probably not but, it was unicorn themed. You loved unicorns. We decked everything out and even had a piñata, it was adorable. But, you and Sam were so tight. Best friends. But he had started to pick on you a little, made fun of you for having such a ‘girly’ birthday party. I think he may have had a little crush on you. But he made you cry, baby! You were so shy and embarrassed, so I remember Jake going and setting him straight. Told him he wasn’t allowed to make people cry, especially his best friends. Something like, ‘We don’t hurt the feelings of the people we love, Sammy.’ Jake made him apologize to you, honey. Ugh, it was the sweetest little thing. He was protecting you even then.”

You felt your wide smile topple directly over into a frown. God, what? Your parents hardly ever talked about stories like this from your childhood, how you were all friends, how you grew up together. You knew they would, if you asked, but hearing a story like that just clarified everything you ever needed to know. Jake had literally always been there. 

Being back in your old home, and your old bedroom was definitely eerie, but nonetheless comforting. You kept catching yourself being so caught up in their love and care for you that you would forget about everything that had just happened, and about Jake. And Jake’s hands on you…but never for too long. 

The guilt still weighed heavily on you, especially since no one around you but Jake knew of the horrible mistake you’d made. The life-altering choice. You fell asleep each night debating on whether or not to text him and tell him goodnight, call him, send him a photo of the dinner you made, anything. But you never did. He didn’t want you to. 

You also debated on texting Sam, or Elle. For some reason, you’d had absolutely no contact with either of them since you got back from Vegas. Not even anything from Elle. It was eating you alive. 

The morning you were supposed to leave, you got a text from Jake. 

11:06am

Jake: They’re back. Spending the day visiting. You can come back tonight or we can get you on the way to the venue tomorrow. Doesn’t matter 

Oh, so he probably didn’t want you to come back today. You decided you’d have your dad drop you off late tonight when everyone had settled in for bed, that way you could just wake up and leave as a group. 

A group. It felt like you hadn’t been a group in years, now. You sighed, texting him back. 

11:09am

You: Okay, I’ll be back late tonight so we can just get on the road asap tomorrow

11:10am

Jake: Ok

You wondered if that was really okay with him, seeing as how now you would be sharing a bed again. Maybe you’d go back late enough that he would already be asleep, and you wouldn’t disturb him as you came back in. Yeah right, you thought. He’s a night owl. 

You waited until after midnight to have your dad take you back after you’d spent the evening talking and visiting with them by the old wood stove, sharing some drinks and dinner. 

“I think your mom and I are going to try to come to most of the Michigan shows, but your mom’s having a little bit of trouble with that darn Ticketmaster program, or whatever it is…” your dad went on as you pulled down Jake’s street. 

“Oh dad! I didn’t even think about you wanting to come! Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it. I’ll get you tickets. I’ll send them in an email.” You replied. 

“No, no, honey, we want to support them. We’ll figure it out.” He went on. 

“No, dad. I’ll get them. Seriously. Just you being there is supporting them. I promise. I’ll have them to you tomorrow.” You said, making a mental note. 

“Okay, thanks sweetie. We’re excited. Your mom’s making me go shopping for an outfit tomorrow. Whoopie!” You laughed as your dad seemed overjoyed to be hopping around the mall with your mom all day tomorrow. 

You pulled into the driveway, finding the house mostly dark. “I love you, dad. I’ll see you here soon!” You said, leaning over the seat to hug him. 

“Love you too, sweetie. So glad you kids come and see us, still. So happy you’re happy, honey.” He said, patting the back of your head. Shit. 

“Thanks dad. See you.” You half-smiled, climbing out of the car and grabbing your bag to sneak back inside the house. 

You quietly entered the house, hearing nothing but a distant TV and Josh’s snores coming from upstairs. You removed your shoes, and tiptoed through the dark house toward the stairway. Passing by the kitchen, something caught your eye. A dark shadowy figure sitting at the kitchen island, sipping a glass of water. 

Sam. The first you’d seen him, really. 

Your breath caught in your throat as you passed by him slowly, your eyes catching each other’s as he looked at you over the rim of his glass. The seconds felt like hours while you stared at each other, not moving, not saying a word. Finally he swallowed the water, and set his glass back down, breaking the eye contact. Fuck. You pulled your eyes off of him, and continued your trek up the steps. 

You decided to go to the bathroom first and take a quick shower; you weren’t sure when your next one would be, given how busy it was about to get. You stripped down and stepped in the steaming water, letting the past couple days wash off down the drain. You cranked up the heat, hoping that breathing in the steam would make you so dizzy that you’d fall right asleep when you got to Jake’s bed. 

You changed into a t-shirt and shorts and brushed your damp hair until it was tangle-free. When you went to brush your teeth, you found that Jake had left the toothpaste out on the counter. On purpose, for you? Or for himself in the morning…

Quietly, you pushed open the door to his bedroom, finding him already drifted off, lying on his stomach with his arms up under his face, in nothing but his boxers and his singular silver necklace. His hair was back in a bun, already messy from tossing and turning. The covers were pulled down to his waist, showing his whole torso rising and falling as he slept, his eyelids gently moving as he dreamed. Jesus, he’s so beautiful. You took a mental snapshot of him, knowing that this may be the last time you see him this way, this relaxed. 

Slipping in beside him, you turned your back away to not face him, and urged yourself to fall asleep as quickly as possible. After twenty minutes or so of drifting in and out, you felt warm, familiar hands reach out and grab you, pulling you backwards across the bed. Jake slipped his arm under your neck, and the other across your chest, pulling you backwards as he cuddled you. What in the world? 

You were surprised, but couldn’t tell if he was awake or not. You felt his face balance on the side of yours, feeling his slow and shallow breaths come across your face. Damnit, this is torture. You hadn’t felt his body on you like this in so long, you stiffened to it, unsure he even knew what he was doing. His hand that held your chest crept down and found yours, interlacing your fingers with his as he brought your hands back up to your chest, pressing them into you. 

Working hard to hide the sobs that began to shake your chest, you decided to let yourself feel it, your favorite place on earth, cuddled into Jake as he held you, safe and sound. You weren’t sure if he had even invited you here subconsciously or not, but for right now, you were just going to enjoy it. Bask in it. Let yourself be his little spoon one last time. His little dipper. 

—

JAKE POV

Your eyes popped open quickly, realizing the strange position you had found yourself in. Y/N wrapped up against you, your arms underneath her and twisted around her, your face close and breathing in the smell of her hair. 

Fuck, what the hell! 

You took a breath as the sleep drifted away, and you took a second, the tiniest amount of time, to feel her here. It may be the last time. She felt so good here, your puzzle piece. But she wasn’t yours, not anymore. 

You pushed yourself away slowly, pulling your asleep arm out from underneath her. Damnit! How did you let yourself do this?! How long were you cuddling? You rolled yourself to the opposite side, trying to wake your arm and hand up, the tingles making you hurt. 

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, finding it to only be 6:30 in the morning. You had to wake up in a half hour anyway, so you crawled from the bed and headed to the shower, pissed at yourself for letting your guard down, and letting her get so close. 

—

Downstairs, you found your family already risen and awake, your mom scrambling eggs and whipping up breakfast as quickly as she could. Y/N was seated at the island, dressed and ready for the day. 

“Morning, babe.” She murmured, sipping her coffee. 

“Morning.” You replied, letting your hand brush her shoulders.. 

You wondered how the dynamic was since you’d been upstairs. Thankfully, Josh was taking up the dead space, filling the air with another explanation of a plan he had. 

You glanced to Sam, finding him stirring his coffee and staring at nothing else. Elle, listening to Josh with her head balanced on her fist. And your parents, unaware of anything and everything as they candidly discussed Josh’s plan. Hm. Okay then. We ride like this. 

Actually, you looked forward to ignoring Sam and Y/N all day, as you woke up on the absolute wrong side of the bed this morning. You were still kicking yourself for even touching her, let alone waking up with her intimately in your arms. Your stomach turned. Never again. 

The time came to leave, and you’d packed your suitcase without really caring how wrinkly anything got. You zipped it up and wheeled it down the stairs. Each of you hugged and kissed your parents goodbye, thanking them for breakfast and telling them you’d see them at the shows. 

“The van is outside, guys.” Y/N said, reading her phone. “Let’s get on the road.”

As you all walked out the door, you dead last, your mom caught you by the arm, pulling you back to talk to her. 

“Jake, did your dad give it to you?” She asked with a sneaky smile on her face. 

Fuck. 

“Yeah, uh. He did. It’s, great. I’m actually gonna keep it here, though, I won’t feel like it’s safe with me on the road.” You responded, watching as everyone loaded their things into the van. 

“Oh, no baby. Take it with you! You never know when you might, want it. Ya know? The moment will hit you out of nowhere, and you’ll feel like you can’t breathe until she says yes. Trust me honey, it belongs in your possession.” You watched as she ran quickly into the dining room to retrieve it. Within seconds, she came bounding back, and placed the bag secretively in your hand. 

“I know you’ll find somewhere safe to keep it. You’ve always been good with protecting your treasures.” 

She kissed your cheek, and you gave her a sweet smile. “Love you, Momma. See you soon.” You said, and you wheeled your suitcase down the walkway. 

You filed into the van one by one after stashing your things into the thankfully oversized trunk, and you were on your way to the hotel. You hadn’t been to these smaller towns in Michigan in some time, and you were excited to return. It was always fun revisiting cities again. The plan was to check into the hotel in Saginaw, drive to Kalamazoo to sound check, then back to the hotel to regroup before the show. It was going to be a long day. 

The ride wasn’t terribly long, and you spent most of it staring out the window at the scenery. You let your head wander a bit, the passing buildings and trees and farms a welcome distraction from your mind traveling a million miles a minute. You glanced over to Y/N on the bench seat beside you, flipping through her emails on her phone, probably recentralizing herself with her job. Good, we don’t have to talk. 

Finally you arrived at the hotel. You were looking forward to a little bit of downtime to get your head in the right space to be back on stage. It had been so long, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit nervous. But all would be well, as long as you could keep up your charade, and not strangle Sam. 

—

HER POV

After a quick exchange with the guys in the lobby, Richard handed Jake your room keys and you made your way towards the elevator. The ride up was silent, not that you expected it not to be. It was so weird to be around the guys and them think everything was okay, when it was the absolute furthest from okay. It was getting harder to lie to them, especially Josh, who was sending you questioning looks and sorrowful eyes. 

Being close to Jake again had only gotten harder. You missed him, more than you’ve ever missed anything. The real jokes, the real laughter, the real smiles. Not the fake ones the two of you had been producing over the last few days. Sharing a bed was the hardest part, knowing you couldn’t roll over and kiss him, or hold him and do anything you were dying to do. But he was right, you had made that choice in the stairwell. A choice you had to live with everyday now.

Opening the door to the hotel room you would call home over the next several days, you stepped inside, ready to disappear into the cloud of blankets, but your breath was nearly stolen from your lungs when you realized that your room reservation had been changed. 

Instead of your usual king bed, you were met with the sight of two queen beds, side by side. Your eyes widened as you realized this was Jake’s choice. 

You turned to look at him when he stepped in behind you, and his lips twitched a bit before his eyes caught yours. 

“What? You didn't honestly think we were going to continue to sleeping in the same bed…” he says, voice laced with venom.

You push your suitcase to the wall and turn heading straight for the bathroom, willing the tears not to fall before you could close the door. 

Shutting it behind you, you leaned over the sink, watching the tears drip into the white porcelain. Of course he doesn’t want to sleep with you anymore. He only did it to not raise suspicions. There was no other choice. Here, there’s a choice, and he’s made it.

The last few nights spent in the same bed with him had been the best sleep you’d gotten in what felt like ages, even if you hardly touched. Just knowing he was there with you, feeling his body heat under the sheets, hearing the soft noise of his breath as he slept, was enough. You tried not to think too much into it when you would feel him press against you, or the way his hand would seek yours out in the dead of night. You just let it happen, and just as quickly it would be gone.

You dried your red eyes and splashed your face with cold water, flushing the toilet to try and mask the real reason you were in here. You took a deep breath and let it out as you opened the door, stepping back into the room. As you made your way over to your respective bed, he didn't even bother looking up from his phone. 

You pulled your phone and charger from your bag and plugged it in, hoping to get a little more battery before you had to leave with the guys for soundcheck. As you laid back into the pillows you saw Jake turn and look at you, before getting up and walking over to the mini bar. He twisted the top on a miniature Jack Daniels, pouring it into one of the glasses on the counter. Of course he was drinking, that’s what he always does. 

Almost as if he had heard you his head snapped in your direction, “If you’re going to sit over there and scrutinize my every move you can book yourself into another room and I’ll let you do the honors of telling everyone why you aren’t in here with me. Sound good?” he says sarcastically, walking over to you.

“The drink is for you. Figured you’re gonna need it for the day you’re about to have.” he says, holding it out to you.

“I wasn’t scrutinizing you, Jake.” you snap taking the drink from his hand, even though you absolutely were.

“You think I can’t tell when you’re lying? You think I don’t know every single thought that goes through that mind of yours? It’s all over your face, Y/N.” he says.

“Actually, on second thought. Maybe I don’t. I don’t know, because I can’t possibly imagine the rationale you had in Las Vegas that told you what you were doing was a good idea. Maybe I don’t know you at all.” he says.

Your face flames red, and you toss back the warm drink, watching him rip his own phone from the charging cord and shove it into his pocket. “Let’s go, it’s time to leave.” he says, not even looking you in the eye.

He grabs his guitar case and heads for the door, leaving you in the dust.

—

Stepping through the doors at the venue you were happy to have an excuse to get away from everyone. It was a quick ride, choosing to stay at one hotel, central to all of the show locations. You took your normal seat next to Jake, but that was the extent of it. You didn’t speak, you didn’t touch, nothing. You were itching to get out of that van as quickly as possible.

You were thankful for that drink earlier, he was right, it would be a long night. Finding your way to the dressing room you made sure everything was ready for them before being stopped by Richard in the hallway. 

“You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. The crew is on the clock.” he says.

“As you know, the hotel you booked is well over 50 minutes away from this particular venue, paired with 5 o’clock traffic, there was bound to be a little bit of time discrepancy.” you reply. 

“As their assistant, it’s your job to make sure they are ready to go when I tell them it's time to leave and account for traffic.” he snaps.

“No, actually, my job is whatever Josh asks of me, and since he was the one running a bit behind as we left, I would say this whole argument is moot. They are here now and ready to go, so tell your crew they are heading to the stage.” you say, turning on your heels.

Who does this guy think he is?

The guys rush past you one by one, in a blur of linen and vibrant prints, ‘Hey Dick!’ ringing out from Josh’s mouth.

You smile to yourself. How perfectly timed, Josh. 

Jake brings up the back of the group walking to the stage with his guitar case in hand, passing it off to his tech, as he steps up onto the stage. 

“Y/N!” you hear your name called by a voice you haven't heard in days. Elle.

You take a deep breath and turn around to face her with a smile, “Elle!”

She wraps you in a hug that makes you sick to your stomach, “How are you!? Why haven't I heard from you?!” she gushes.

“Oh Elle, I’m sorry! I was so busy getting ready for tour that I have hardly been on my phone at all. Then I was visiting my parents… It’s been a crazy week.” you say, hoping she will buy it. 

“Oh totally, I get it. Thought for sure you’d be at the parents last night, but…” she trails off.

“Yeah, my family wanted to do this dinner thing, I don’t know. I got in late, you were already asleep.” you say.

“No biggie. We will be together like everyday now!” She smiles, “You ready to watch our men kill it the next few weeks?” 

Again, the sick feeling washes over you, just as the beginning notes begin to ring through the arena. “Yeah, I think it's going to be a wild tour.”

��

Danny came barrelling off of the stage with a huge grin, glad to be back in his happy place. He seemed more confident than ever recently, his new hairstyle definitely playing a part in that. You could hardly wipe the smile off of his face anymore, and you were glad someone was happy. 

Josh and Sam walked off next, talking as Josh sipped from a water bottle, patting you on the arm as he passed. Elle squeezed your hand as she joined Sam, as they walked down the stairs. 

Jake was last, handing his guitar off to his tech and giving him a few quick notes. You turned away and began to make your way down the stairs, hearing him walking behind you. 

“Hey…” he says, quietly and your breath catches.

You stop and turn to meet his eyes behind the lenses of his sunglasses, “Hey.”

“You gotta walk with me if you want this to be believable.” he says.

“Right.” you whisper to yourself, letting him catch up to you. 

The two of you make your way into the dressing room, finding everyone else already beginning to make drinks. Elle held a drink out towards you as you entered, and you were thankful. You accepted it from her, as she pulled you away from Jake and into the corner of the room to sit on a set of leather chairs.

“Now we can relax!” she smiles.

“Yeah, I haven’t done much of that recently!” you laugh.

“Really? I feel like that’s all we did since we got back from Vegas. Well…at least I have. I don’t know what Sam’s deal is, but he has been so…attentive. Anxious, almost.” she giggles. “Waiting on me hand and foot, cooking my favorites, and the sex…” she raises her eyebrow.

You swallowed down a large gulp of the vodka and orange juice mixture, feeling a cold sweat break out on your skin.

“Wow, sounds like the royal treatment.” you smile.

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s up, but I’m not complaining.” she says, looking over to Sam who is sending her a wink from across the room.

Well, I’m glad his relationship didn’t implode.

You glance over at Jake, who is leaning against the wall talking to Danny, his posture slightly closed off. 

“How’s he doing? You know… after everything. I haven’t heard from him since, neither has Sam.” she asks, looking over at him.

“Oh, um, well, I think he’s been really stressed about the tour starting. We haven’t really talked much about that night at all. He’s kind of been keeping to himself and trying to stay busy.” you lied.

“Hmm, I guess that makes sense. He was super quiet last night when we were all hanging out. Would hardly speak to anyone. Just kind of looked at his phone all night.” she says dismissively.

“Yeah, he was asleep when I got there, then we left early this morning. I’m sure once the first show is done and over with he will come around. Just pre-tour nerves or something.” you reply.

Just then the door opens to the dressing room, Richard stepping in commanding the attention in the room. 

“Listen up boys, we’ve got some new team members joining us and I wanted to get introductions done so we can have a smooth show tomorrow. I’m gonna be bringing people by as I see them, but for now, and most importantly, I’d like you to say hello to Logan. He is the new Production Manager. He will be overseeing everything behind the scenes. He will be in charge of your equipment, so you don’t want to get on his bad side.” he lets out a fake laugh. 

Richard steps aside and you see the man step through the door, stealing all the air from your lungs. His smile is exactly like you remember as he glances around the room, lifting a hand to wave as his eyes spot you. 

“Logan!?” you say, jumping up from your chair. He looked exactly how you remembered, just a little older. His hair hung in long spiral curls around his face, still the same dark brown that stood out against his slate gray eyes.

“Oh my god, Y/N?!” he says, hastily making his way over to you and pulling you in for a hug.

“Wha–What, what are you? You’re? Oh my god!” you gush, stepping back from his familiar hug. 

The two of you laugh as you realize you’ve made quite the scene. 

“I’m guessing you two know each other?” Danny asks. 

“Uh yeah! We had nearly every Major course together the last two years of college! Shit, I probably wouldn’t have graduated if it wasn’t for her!” he says, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. 

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard as you looked around the room. Everyone smiling, except for Jake. He stood leaned against the wall, sipping his drink with his legs crossed, watching the scene unfold before him. You swallowed nervously and turned your attention back to Logan. 

“Okay, let me introduce you to the guys!” you say, grabbing his arm and pulling him over towards Josh. 

“This is Josh, lead singer and tambourine expert.” Josh smiles and shakes his hand. 

“This is Daniel, he plays the drums.” you say motioning towards Danny. 

“Oh, drums. I wanna pick your brain later if you’re up for it?” he asks, sending a hopeful smile Danny’s way.

“Shit yeah, always.” he agrees. 

“Okay, this is Sam, he plays bass, keys, and pretty much any other instrument you can imagine.” you laugh.

“Oh and he’s always down for shots!” Sam adds, reaching his hand out to Logan. 

“Ahh my bass man. So you’ve got that modded out green fender?” he asks, pointing his finger towards him.

“Yeah man, that's my lady.” he smiles.

“Dude, the jazz neck…” he says nodding his head.

“Yeah, game changer. I’ll never go back.” he says excitedly. 

Okay, so this is going extremely well. You had forgotten that Logan was just as much of an expert as they always were. He was going to fit in just fine.

“And lastly, Jake. He is the lead guitarist and probably who you will be working with the most.” you say, letting your eyes drift up to meet his.

Jake clears his throat and extends his hand, “Hey man, nice to meet you, Jake.”

“Dude, I’ve gotta say, your cabinet is stacked.” he smiles.

“Yeah, I’ve always had a type. Had a hard time straying from it. But more recently I have been thinking I need to venture out. Maybe try something new for once.” he replies, cutting his eyes over to you. 

What?

“I don’t know man, if you find something that works for you… gotta stick with it.” he replies, clearly having no idea the true intentions behind Jake’s words.

“Yeah, and I’ve always thought that, but, guess we’ll see if anything new catches my eye. May be time for a change.” he says, sipping from his drink.

You feel your heart plummet into your stomach, and shake the thoughts away. 

“Well it was great to meet you all, I have a few loose ends to wrap up before tomorrow, so I’m gonna run, but if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to reach out. Oh, Y/N, you still have my number right?” he asks, as you nod your head, “Cool, can you send it to them? Just text me guys, I always have my phone on me. See ya tomorrow!” he says, giving you one more hug and stepping out the door. 

“Well, well, well, I guess we know now why little miss thing went MIA for a few years.” Danny laughs. 

The room sounded out with ‘ooh’s and ahh’s’ and kissing noises, making your stomach turn.

“No. No. No. It was never like that. We were just best friends.” you confirm.

“Makes sense.” Sam says, crossing his arms. 

“Ugh! Not like that Sam, come on!” you try to reason.

“No, no… I get it…” he says facetiously.

“I swear!” you say, with a smile. 

“Jake better mark his territory, and quick!” Danny laughs.

Everyone turns to look at him, finishing the rest of his drink, “Even if I did, how do I know it would stop him? People typically go after what they want regardless of the consequences.” he says, sending the room silent. 

“Whatever, you guys ready to eat? I’m starving!” Danny says, making his way to the door. 

Everyone agrees and stands up, walking over to the door. You hang back for a minute, breathing heavily as you try to clean up the empty cans and glasses left scattered about. 

You toss the last can into the trash, watching Jake hold the door open with his back, as you walk towards it. 

“Isn’t that right, Y/N…”

Your face flames red as you slip past him, heading towards the van waiting outside. You could feel him, hot on your heels as you walked down the hallway. You turned around to catch his gaze, fixed upon you as you walked, and if you didn’t know any better, by the look on his face, you would say that famous rockstar Jacob Kiszka, was jealous of someone else.

—

After a quick dinner at the hotel bar, you all made your way back to your respective rooms, ready to call it a night. You walked with Jake and Josh as you stepped out of the elevator, the two of them finishing up a conversation that started well over thirty minutes ago. 

“You guys wanna come into my room for a bit?” Josh asks.

“No. Y/N’s tired, but I will for a few.” Jake replies. 

“Here, take the key. You can go.” he says, pulling the extra key card from his wallet. 

Josh looks at the two of you and the interaction you just had with an inquisitive look, casting his glance over to Jake. 

He quickly realizes, and leans over kissing your cheek, as you accept the card from his hand. 

“Won’t be long, baby.” he says, eyes dead as the words leave his lips.

You nod your head and make your way down the hallway to your room, tapping the key to the door and looking over your shoulder to see them entering into Josh’s, but you notice Jake, looking over his shoulder to watch you, too.

You step into the room, and as the door shuts you let out a sigh. What a rollercoaster of a day. 

You step over to your suitcase, pulling your toiletries out of the bag, and grabbing your pajamas, before heading into the bathroom for the longest, hottest shower of your life.

You take extra time in the shower, scrubbing every inch of your skin and even double shampooing. You let the scalding hot water beat into your skin until it’s pink, relaxing the tense muscles in your shoulders from all of the stress over the last few days. Usually, Jake would work out the knots for you, his skilled hands knowing all of your pressure points. You could only dream of how it would feel to let his hands glide over you one last time.

You shook the thought from your head and stepped out of the shower, wrapping your hair into the white towel. You slid your hand across the foggy mirror and looked at yourself. 

What did you do? More importantly, why?

—

JAKE POV

After a quick night cap in Josh’s room you found your legs carrying you down the hallway to your room, dread washing over you as you heard the door unlock. 

As you stepped inside you heard the shower running. Maybe you can change, get in bed and fall asleep before she comes out.

You quickly walked over to your suitcase, pulling out a t-shirt and and stripping out of your clothes, before pulling it over your head. You pulled your hair into a bun and grabbed your phone charger, plugging it into the wall, before sliding into the cold, crisp sheets. 

You pulled your glasses on and laid on your side, facing the other bed as you scrolled through your phone, trying to see if anything piqued your interest. The room was lit by only one softly glowing yellow lamp, and you felt your eyelids growing heavy. 

The bathroom door unlocked, commanding your attention as you saw her step out of the bathroom. You nearly felt your chest cave in as you looked at her. Her skin was flushed pink from the shower, her wet hair hanging around her shoulders. You could smell her, your favorite smell in the world, even from across the room. But that wasn’t what took your breath away. No. It was the sight of her, bare legged and standing there in that old t-shirt you gave her so long ago. 

You remember the night you gave it to her, after that party. The first night you ever slept next to her. The first night you played her what would forever be known as her song. Whether you liked it or not. She kept the shirt, after all these years. And you’d never forget it.

Now as she walked towards the beds with her dirty clothes in hand, you watched her as she squatted down to her suitcase, to put her things away. She turned to you, catching you staring. Fuck. 

“Can I…use that toothpaste again? I will get my own tomorrow, I swear.” she asks.

You pretend to be disinterested, focusing back on your phone. “Yeah, sure it’s in the bag.”

When you know she has her back turned, you watch her walk over to your suitcase sitting on the luggage stand, and begin to look for your toiletry bag. She bends slightly at the waist as she unzips the bag and pulls out the toothpaste, giving you the slightest peek at her ass as the shirt lifts. 

Your body betrays you as you feel the blood start to rush away from your head. You roll back to your side, and open a news article, trying to focus your attention on anything other than how you know she looks beneath that shirt, and how badly you want to touch her. 

She disappears back into the bathroom, and remerges a few minutes later, locking the door and closing the curtains. She slides into her bed, opposite of yours and plugs in her phone. 

You find your eyes drifting over the top of your phone to look at her, her eyebrows furrowed as she scrolls through hers. 

You see her look up from her phone in the exact same way but quickly return your eyes to your screen. You pull your glasses off and set them on the nightstand, along with your phone, before flipping to your back. 

“Do you want me to turn the light off?” she says softly.

“Nah, doesn’t bother me, if you want it on.” you reply. 

“Do you care if I turn the TV on?” you ask.

“No, go ahead. But no murder stuff, it will give me nightmares.” she smiles.

“Alright. No murder stuff.” you say, reaching for the remote. Your eyes catch hers just five feet away from you, and you feel your heart twist. You swallow, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV.

You reposition yourself in the bed, flipping through the channels to find something you could fall asleep to. You hear her slide her phone onto the nightstand and flip off the lamp, leaving the room lit with just the blue glow of the television.

You settle on The Food Network, showing a rerun of Chopped, just as someone is being sent away. You turn down the volume and place the remote on the nightstand, before rolling back to your side. 

You close your eyes for a few seconds, feeling the whiskey swirling through your system as you try to drift off to sleep, but something in your mind is telling you to open your eyes, just look at her one more time. 

So you do, and you’re met with her gaze. She’s watching you just like you’re watching her. Both of you laying on your sides, just staring at one another in the dark room. But neither of you makes a move to stop. You think of her, laying there in your shirt. Of her in your bed this morning, the way she was wrapped around you, and your stomach starts to churn. You’re mad. How could she do this to you? To both of you?

“Was it worth it?” you ask, your gravely voice drifting across the room.

“What?” she breathes.

“Was it worth it?” you repeat, a little louder.

“No. No Jake, it wasn’t. I wish I could take it back.” she answers, voice cracking.

“I wish you could too.” you reply. 

“I’m sorry, Jake.” she says, a tear running out of her eye.

“I bet you are.” you snap.

You watch her turn over to her other side, hugging her arms around her chest as she tries to stifle the sound of her tears. You wonder how many nights in a row she’s cried herself to sleep. 

Your adrenaline is pumping from the short interaction, causing your heart to race. You look at the TV, pretending to be interested before deciding to settle yourself into your pillows and close your eyes. It hurt you to be so cold towards her. You hated it. But you hated what she’d done even more. 

You could hear her sniffles through the low drone of the TV and swallowed heavily to push your own feelings back.

“Do you remember? Do you even remember what you said to me, that night in Bridgeport?” she asks, breaking the silence. 

You don’t answer, running through your memories trying to remember what she’s talking about.

“You–ou told me you would love me until the day you died.” she forced through her heaves of breath. “Then, in Chicago…” she pauses. “...You told me you would never leave me. Never.”

It felt like someone sliced your heart out. You knew you had to shut this down before it got worse.

“That was before you snuck off and slept with my brother behind my back, Y/N. Do you not get that?” you say.

“I do! I do get it Jake! And I have told you I’m sorry! I’ve told you I regret it more than anything in my whole life! I told you I wish I could take it back! I can’t do this without you, it’s killing me!” she cries out. 

“You made the choice, Y/N! Both of you did. I didn’t make it. I just did what I had to do.” you answer. 

“But you don’t have to Jake! You can let me try to fix it! Let me try to regain your trust, I–” she sobs. “I love you Jake. Can’t you see that?” she finishes, her voice small.

“You know what I see Y/N? I see the vision of you and Sam in a stairwell, both fully knowing you were doing, and continuing to do it regardless of the consequences. You knew what you were giving up that night.” you reply.

“Tell me you don’t love me anymore Jake. Tell me.” she snaps.

“No. I won’t say that. Part of me always will. I loved you since we were teenagers, it built up over years. But all it took was 5 minutes for me to understand that you didn’t feel the same way.” you say.

“But I do! And…This morning… You–you, we…”

“It was a mistake. It meant nothing. All of this has meant nothing. I told you that. Don’t read into it.” you snap.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t feel anything when you kissed me! I know you did Jake! You didn’t want it to end just as much as I didn’t.” she says.

“You’re right, I did feel something after that kiss. I felt sick. Sick to my stomach, that I thought you were who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” you say, driving in the final dagger.

You hear a sob rip from her chest. You knew that was harsh, and fuck, maybe you didn’t mean it. But part of you just wanted her to hurt like you were hurting. You knew that would do it. 

You reach for the remote and turn the TV off, letting your eyes close. “And for the love of God, please don’t cry all night, I have a long day tomorrow and I need to get some sleep.” you say, placing the remote on the nightstand and letting your eyes close.

Her stifled sobs fall into her pillow, and your heart twists knowing you caused it. You lied, you did love her. You didn’t know if you could stop loving her. Loving everything about her. The good, the bad, the ugly. If anything were to make you stop loving her, this would be it, right? Were you doing the right thing? Was this the right thing?

—

The first show came and was a blur of flames and explosions, the crowd a sea of black and gold and glitter. Your new addition of a pyro blast during your extended solo during ‘The Weight of Dreams’ already seeming to be a crowd favorite. There were a few hiccups, the brand new monologue before the show of Josh telling a long story about the inner workings of his brain and the meaning of the album cutting out, followed by Josh’s microphone deciding to cut out on him during the first song. 

You knew Logan was rushing around like a crazy person backstage trying to fix it along with the sound techs, but all was well, and everyone tried to keep spirits up. 

You had to admit, you were having a blast. Even with all of the drama and the heartbreak, and being so horribly upset with your little brother, you let it all disappear on stage. You would never think that you were so deeply mad and disappointed in Sam that you contemplated cutting him off completely. You both acted as if nothing had even happened. The fans didn’t deserve that energy. 

The show was proceeding perfectly, until you caught a quick glimpse of Y/N and Logan hamming it up side stage. Luckily, they were on Sam’s side, so you didn’t have to be right there by it, but it was almost like they wanted you to see them. Were you crazy? And why did you even care? 

You thought your insides might explode when you saw her place her hand on his chest, tilting her head back as she laughed. He’s supposed to be working… and the next time you looked, he was gone. Just Y/N and Elle standing together, watching everything play out. Did Elle even have any idea?! 

—

“Excellent show, guys! Well done!” Richard yelled to you as you descended the steps. 

“What turned over your leaf, Dick? You’ve never been that nice to us…” you heard Sam respond, causing the whole group to erupt in snickering laughter. 

“Hey, hey now. I’m just giving credit where credit is due. Don’t mistake my kindness, Mr. Kiszka.” Richard replied as you all rushed down the hallway back to the green room. 

“You just needed to see us play in real life, with a real crowd, not just sound checking, right Dick? I get it. You were impressed. You don’t have to be shy about it!” Danny said, slapping him on the shoulder as you passed him. 

“Yes, Dick! This is how it always happens. It’s okay, you’ll fall in love with us soon…” Josh added. 

You laughed at your brothers, sitting on an absolute high that you hadn’t felt in ages. You were floating down the hall, soaked in sweat and exhaustion flowing through your hands. Your fingertips were throbbing and your ears were ringing, the energy was wild and you knew the smile would be plastered across your face until you fell asleep tonight. You had the best job in the world. 

Everyone made their way back into the room, beginning to change and grab drinks. 

“I gotta go piss I’m getting ready to die!” Sam yelled over the excitement as he scurried away holding himself. You chuckled at him as you inadvertently made eye contact with Elle, the both of you shaking your heads at his display. Fuck you, Sam. I love you, but fuck you. Endlessly. 

Whoa, Elle. Your mind jumbled up really fast, jumping back to that night in Vegas, her straddled across your lap whispering in your ear, you completely unable to take your hands off her…

“Hey!” 

Y/N. Shit. You shook away the intrusive thought. 

“That was…unreal, Jake! You were…amazing. Congratulations…” she said with a shy and straight face, pulling her hair behind her ear as she lightly touched your arm, and walked away. 

“Thanks…” you said, probably barely audible as you watched her walk away.

“There’s the man of the hour! What happened out there, my guy?” Josh yelled as Logan entered the room, holding his hands up in surrender. Logan plopped down on the couch next to Josh, putting his face in his hands. 

“I’m so sorry, guys. I don’t know what happened. I’m working with sound to get it figured out. We’re thinking it may have been a disruption with communication between systems, something easy. I apologize, guys. That shouldn’t have happened. And on my first show!” He said, putting his head in his hands again. 

“All is well, Logan. Don’t beat yourself up.” Danny said. 

“Yeah, but if it ever happens again, you’re fired.” Josh added, laughing as he patted him on the back again. “I’m kidding, I joke!” 

Spirits were extremely high in that little room as you all celebrated like your entire world wasn’t crumbling at the foundation, the love was obvious and you were proud of yourselves. For just a little while, you let yourself be happy. 

—

Everyone made their way back to their respective hotel rooms after piling in the van, all of you still not used to the stamina needed for a show. But you’d get there. You felt a headache coming on, almost like a blinding one right behind your eyes, and you decided it was just the comedown from all the adrenaline. You looked forward to crashing in your bed after a shower. 

You and Y/N were walking into the lobby with the group after she made sure everyone had everything they needed for tomorrow. 

“Sheesh, brother you could at least act like a gentleman and hold her hand to the elevator…” Josh surprised you as he came up between the two of you. Fuck, Josh. 

You glanced to her, her face fallen. You reluctantly grabbed her hand, careful not to lace your fingers, and started off toward the elevator, ignoring Josh’s existence. When the doors finally closed, you let go of her hand, and pulled your phone out to distract yourself. 

“This is exhausting, Jake.” She murmured. 

“I’m fine, what do you mean? No sweat off my brow…” you added, not looking up from your phone. 

She sighed, leaving it at that as you hopped off the elevator and quickly made it to the room, her falling behind. You opened the door and immediately began stripping your clothes off, ready to get in the shower and wash your hair. You were completely nude before you even opened the door to the bathroom, not giving one single fuck if Y/N cared or not. 

You heard her breath catch as she finally came through the door, seeing you naked for the first time in weeks. You let her look, and you stayed completely unphased. You literally couldn’t care less. You grabbed some clean clothes and headed for the bathroom, not saying a word. 

Twenty minutes later, you were both tucked away in your beds, you watching another cooking show and her on her phone. You noticed it was buzzing, incessantly, and it was kind of getting on your nerves. She giggled every few seconds, and was typing away. Who is she texting? Not that you care…

Suddenly she shot up, lifting her t-shirt over her head to reveal her naked top half. You felt your eyes travel to her on their own, taking one quick look at her before retreating back to the TV. God damn, she’s so beautiful. Then she let her shorts fall, revealing her whole naked self. Jesus Christ, Y/N…what are you doing to me…

She nonchalantly pulled a long dress and a sweater from her suitcase, getting dressed as if you weren’t even in the room. You guessed since you let her see you in the flesh earlier, she would let you see her, too. Well played. She gathered her hair up in a low messy bun, effortlessly letting it fall wherever it wanted to. She pulled on some boots, and began to make her way toward the exit. 

“Leaving?” You asked, trying to sound uninterested. 

“Yeah. Meeting a friend at the bar.” She said as she grabbed her purse and threw it over her shoulder, pulling the heavy door open. “Sweet dreams, Jacob.”

And she was gone. After what you’d just seen, you weren’t sure if your dreams were going to be sweet or not. 

—

The next morning, your headache was considerably worse. You couldn’t make it to the bathroom fast enough to grab your bottle of ibuprofen, praying that it would take away some of the pain. Your whole body ached, like you’d been run over by a semi. Damn, you really were out of shape. You’d only had a couple of drinks last night, hardly even enough to negate a hangover. You swallowed the pills down, chugging a bottle of water behind them. 

You fell back into bed, hoping for an extra half hour or so of sleep before it was time to go again. Y/N had made it back to the room last night; you didn’t even hear her come back in, you must have been sleeping hard. You let your eyes fall closed again, and let your body sink away until your alarm was set to go off. 

—

The medicine had helped a bit, taking away the pain that you felt creeping deep in your bones. You were tired, but felt better than you did last night. You pushed through sound check at the venue in Grand Rapids, and began to mentally prepare yourself for the show again tonight. 

“Jake, you ok?” You heard Danny ask as he sat down beside you on the couch while you strummed away on your acoustic. “You look worn out.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just still a little tired from last night.” You said. 

“Okay, well. It’s only night two. We’ve got a lot ahead of us. You want some water or something?” He asked. 

Damn, maybe you did look worse off than you thought. 

“Nah, man. Thanks. I’ll be alright.” You relayed. 

Just then Y/N popped into the room to tell you it was time to get dressed. You pulled yourself from your seat, feeling dizzy as you did so. You shook it off, and made your way to the next room. 

When you entered, the first thing you saw was Y/N candidly talking to Sam in front of the large wall mirror. What the fuck. Are they speaking? They were smiling, though not their normal selves, you could tell it felt, ordinary. 

You got dressed without a word, seeing them laugh and chat like nothing in the world had happened. You felt the blood in your veins boil, your hearing muffled as you heard her laugh fly across the room. Fuck this. 

You pulled Y/N to the side behind a door in the hall, finally feeling your rage about to topple over. Why were you even mad? 

“What the hell, Jake? What?” She barked as she flipped free of your grasp. 

“What do you mean, what? You’re just being normal as ever with him right in front of me? After everything? Damn, Y/N…we haven’t even all talked about this shit yet and they still have no clue about us and you’re really throwing it in my face like this?” You stammered. 

“Throwing it in your face? Are you serious, Jake?! I thought the agreement was to ‘keep up appearances’, was it not? And to keep things normal, that also entails keeping up appearances with him, too. Right? Would it not? I have to act like Sam and I are still the best of friends…Do you really want Josh and Danny wondering what the fuck is going on twenty minutes before the show? Hm? Elle and Sam having a disaster happen right now?” She spat back, guilty tears filling her eyes. 

“No, we haven’t all talked about this yet. And I don’t know when the right time will be. And I am dying on the inside, Jake. My whole life is fake now, like an act. So unless you want World War III to happen in this dressing room, I suggest you keep up the appearance, too.” She said, making the rage in your system overflow. She’s kinda right. But it’s not fucking fair. 

You let your head fall back and hit the wall with a thud. “What kind of shitshow are we in, Y/N?” 

“A really fucking crappy one. And it’s my fault. And I know that. I’m just trying to…keep things...from imploding…” she went on, crossing her arms over her chest, wiping a tear away. 

“Yeah, it is your fault. Fuck this, I have a job to do.” You trailed off, throwing your hands up, turning to go back into the room. “Just keep lying, Y/N. It’s what you’re best at.”

You felt her following you back into the room, finding everyone dressed and sharing drinks. Appearances. 

You turned and grabbed her, one hand around her waist and the other behind her head, leaning her back low into a dip, and kissed her low and slow right on the lips. The room erupted in ‘oooooh’s’ as they watched. You let it last a few seconds, her entire body stiff in your arms. She let you kiss her, she barely made an effort to kiss you back, solely from the element of surprise. 

When you opened your eyes, you found hers looking back to you with the most wistful and blissed-out look she’d given you in ages. 

“Too bad this means absolutely fucking nothing.” You whispered in her ear before popping her back up to stand. You walked to the mini bar to grab a drink, then you took off down the hallway. 

“Where are you going?” You heard Josh yell. 

“I have something to do.” You hollered back, heading straight to the sound booth to add a certain special song to the setlist. 

—

HER POV

You watched as Jake rushed out of the dressing room, the feeling of his lips on yours still lingering. 

“I’m gonna go see what the fuck that was about, be right back.” Josh said, excusing himself from the room.

“Jeeze, he is really on edge lately.” Elle said, shrugging her shoulders.

You made your way to the bar cart and grabbed a seltzer, popping the lid and chugging the entirety of the mango flavored bubbles.

“Oh so it’s a party?!” Daniel said, walking over to join you.

“Yeah, something like that Danny…” you smiled.

Just then your radio blared into the room, “Lighting, Pyro, Sound, channel 2 for set change.”

Sam and Danny snapped their heads in your direction, clearly confused by the announcement.

“Two! Two go to two!” Sam urged.

You quickly twisted the knob to find channel two catching the tail end of the change.

“...and so we will slot that between Heat Above and Broken Bells. Got that? Pyro, you good man?” you heard Logan's voice ring through the speaker. 

“Yeah, man, give me five and we are set.” the voice replies.

“Lighting, sound, you good?” he asked.

“Yeah, running up with the techs and we are good.” they replied.

“What the fuck change? Shouldn’t we know about this?” Danny snaps.

“Where’s Josh, does he know?!” Sam asks.

You switch back to the main channel, and hear the chatter beginning. Suddenly Jake and Josh burst through the door, and Josh makes a beeline straight to the bar cart.

“You’re fucking insufferable sometimes Jacob.” Josh snaps, pouring the tequila into his silver tumbler. “You have to talk to us about this shit. You can’t just spring it on us!”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want, if you remember correctly.” he chides.

You grab Elle’s hand and pull her out the door with you, needing to let them hash this out privately.

“What the hell is going on?!” she asks.

“I think Jake made a setlist change but didn’t talk to any of them about it first? I’m not sure, that’s just what I'm piecing together.” you answer, walking her out to the side stage to listen to the openers finish up.

“Damn, he has seemed really off lately.” she says. 

If she only knew.

“He has been. Ever since Vegas. He can’t seem to shake it.” you admit.

“Is he like…upset about…everything?” she asks.

“Not particularly that. I think he is just still… processing everything that happened. It was a lot for him.” you say, knowing its only partially true.

“I’m really sorry Y/N, I would have never–”

“No. Don’t apologize. If anyone should be apologizing it should be me. I kind of pushed the issue…” you say.

“Five minutes to stage…” the call rings through the radio.

“Oh, are we gonna stand side stage tonight? Or should we do seats?” she asks.

“Actually, seats sound good tonight.” you reply.

“Lemme give Sammy a kiss and we can go okay?” she says sweetly. 

Your heart twists in your chest, knowing you should probably do the same with Jake. Unfortunately it means more to you than it does to him. He’s made that very clear.

The intro starts playing and the guys all congregate on the side of the stage, the energy still strange between all of them, and the smell of their pre-show shot, filling your nose.

You watch Elle bound over to Sam, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. He pulls her tightly into him, as he kisses her back. “Good luck baby! We will be up in the seats tonight, okay? Look for me?” she asks.

You wince at the sweet nod he gives her as she releases herself from him and joins your side.

“You gonna kiss your man or what? I want to see the curtain drop!” she bounces.

Jake looks over to you and you watch him swallow as he steps over to you grabbing his guitar from his tech with his free hand.

You lace your fingers around his neck and pull him towards you, gently pressing your lips to his in a sweet and gentle kiss. His tongue barely swipes your lip and you open your mouth just enough to let it in. His free hand grabs your waist and pulls you against him just for a second before he steps back.

“Break a leg…” you whisper.

His eyes linger on yours just for a second, before looking away and stepping up the stairs to take the stage.

Elle grabs your hand and pulls you away towards the seating area and you both walk quickly to try and make it to a set of empty seats before the curtain falls. But with a final look over your shoulder you see him, still watching as you walk away.

—

The first half of the show was electric, the crowd knew every word to every song. You saw the guys searching the crowd for the two of you, Sam making a special effort to smile at Elle throughout the entirety of the first half. Jake caught your gaze a few times, a serious look on his face as he put all of his effort into his craft. 

The show reached the middle point, and you watched as Jake’s tech swapped his guitar for his acoustic. You furrowed your brow, unsure of why since the set didn’t call for an acoustic song. 

This must be the change he made.

Sam began on the keys, as Josh introduced the song, “This next one is about the simplicity of love, and how accessible it is…”

Oh no.

And then, with no warning at all, you were stabbed straight in the heart. Jake began strumming the opening chords, his long hair dusting across his shoulders as he put everything he had into it.

‘Babe, ain’t no denyin’... that I’ve got you in my head…’

Jake no…

‘Girl, I'd be flyin'...If you stood yourself and said’

‘You're the one I want…You're the one I need…’

‘You're the one I had…So come on back to me…’

Your heart began to pump harder than you’ve ever felt. Your breathing picking up as you felt your eyes start to fill with tears. Why did he do this?

You fix your eyes upon him, waiting for him to look at you. Just look at me Jake. Tell me you aren’t giving up on me.

“Oh my god babe, it’s your song. How sweet!” Elle says, completely unknowing that he isn’t playing this because he loves you. No he’s playing this because he wants to hurt you. Show you what you lost.

Your mind is screaming out to him. Look at me Jake!

You watch as he makes certain to never look in your direction. He sings the lyrics with Josh, even closing his eyes as his head turns towards you. He refuses to even see you. 

A single tear slips out of your eye as the song ends. This was his goodbye.

—

You're fairly certain you didn’t speak for the rest of the show, or even after. You just sat, numb, watching the world continue to spin around you. You sat watching as he carried on with his life normally as if he didn’t just tear yours apart.

You tried to distract yourself, cleaning up the green room, hanging their outfits, anything really so that you didn’t have to talk to anyone. You knew the second you did, it would be over, and the tears would flow once again.

As it came time to load up the vans, you were the last to get in, sitting next to Elle.

“What’sa matter babe? You feelin’ okay?” she asks, nudging you.

You nod quickly, and place your hand on her leg, patting it gently. She places her hand on top of yours and continues her conversation with Sam. It wasn’t too far of a drive back to the hotel, and you were thankful, knowing you were going straight to the room and straight to bed. You wanted this nightmare to end. 

As you arrived out front, you all got out and listened as you heard everyone making plans to hit up the bar in the lobby for a nightcap. Elle begged you to join, but after explaining that you hadn’t been sleeping well, she let it go, and hugged you tight.

You walked towards the elevator, Jake catching your shoulder as you passed him.

“Hey. Gonna grab a few drinks then I’ll be up, okay?” he says, purely out of formality.

“Yeah.” you reply completely deadpan, continuing towards the elevator. He stands, looking at you as you walk away, as you look over your shoulder.

You step into the freezing cold room, and immediately burst into the tears you’ve been holding back all night. You couldn’t fix this. It was done. It was over and it was all your fault.

—

The clock reads 12:37am, as you hear the hotel room door shut. He must be back.

You can hear him grumbling as he tries to undress himself in the dark, and change into a t-shirt. What you also hear is the cough creeping up his throat that he’s trying to choke back. 

You lay there in the dark, watching his shadowy figure move across the room, grabbing a bottle of water and shaking a few pills out of a medicine bottle. 

He sniffles as he twists the lid on the water bottle, and you hear him groan as he tips the bottle to his lips.

He walks over to the bed, plugging in his phone and tying up his hair before sliding into the bed with a sigh.

He coughs again, and it sounds bad. It sounds deep in his chest, wet and painful.

You roll over to your side to face him. His face illuminated by the glow of his phone screen.

“Jake?” you ask, voice soft yet thick with sleep.

His head snaps over towards you, obviously unaware that you were awake.

“What.” he replies, a certain slur to his tone, an obvious indication he had been drinking.

“Are you sick? That cough sounds bad.” you say.

“No. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” he snaps.

“Are you sur–”

“I’m fine. Drop it.” he says.

“Sorry.” you reply meekly.

He rolls over onto his side, resting his head on his elbow as he continues to scroll through his phone. You watch as he studies it, just the sight of his tired face making you want to cry.

His eyes flick up to look at you, “So how was the show tonight?” he asks, with a smirk.

Your chest shakes as you think about what he did, “You know how it was Jake. It was awful...” you say, through shaky breaths.

“Really, I thought it was a great show…” he says with a smirk.

“Why did you do it Jake? Why did you add that? Just to hurt me? To dig at me some more, like every day isn’t a living fucking nightmare?” you beg.

“Why?” he asks rhetorically, “Because I felt like it. Thought someone might actually appreciate a love song for what it means.”

“You wouldn’t even look at me!” you cry.

“I know. It wasn’t for you. It probably never will be again.” he snaps.

“Jake… the kiss? You… I know you feel it when we kiss! It may be an act, but I know you still feel it! I can feel it in your kiss and your touch…Your words may say one thing but your body is telling me another...” you plead.

“Didn’t feel shit, actually.” he replies, “Like I’ve said about ten times now, I’m doing all of this as a convenience to myself of not having to explain what happened, and to you, not having to embarrass yourself in front of everyone. It means nothing.” 

JAKE POV

“Jake, how fucking long are we going to keep doing this? How long are you going to keep treating me like this?” She asked. 

“Damn it, it’s either we keep up this charade, or you leave and find another job. Go back home. Take your pick, Y/N.” You responded, spitting the words a bit more harshly than you intended, but knowing they would have the desired effect. 

She sat up hard on the bed. “I just want it all to go away. I want us all to come clean and talk about this. The tension is so thick, all the time…there’s no way people haven’t noticed yet, Jake. We can only keep this up for so long…” she said quietly. 

“Then let’s go! Let’s go to Sam and Elle’s room! Let’s go sit them down and talk about it. Right now. You can tell Elle that you fucked her man while she was throwing up the other night. Sound good? I’ll text him right now…” you said, grabbing your phone. 

“NO, Jake. Not right now. You’ve all been drinking, now is not the time. This conversation needs to happen, when we have some time and some space. And I think…” 

“You think what, Y/N?” You said. 

“I think it needs to come from Sam. I will take half the blame when he tells her, too, but… He needs to bite that bullet, not me.” She said sternly. 

It didn’t make much sense in your head, but you could see where it would mean a lot more coming from him than it would Y/N. Sam needed to man up. 

“I guess. But this charade is fucking killing me, too, Y/N. Do you think I like holding your hand and sitting by you and kissing you in public right now? Pretending everything is okay? After knowing what you did? And Sam seeing us be that way, when he thinks I’m still oblivious? Damn good thing I picked up on Josh’s acting techniques in middle school.” You said. “Makes me feel like a fucking idiot when all I want to is throw Sam through a damn wall and tell him I know what he did. What you did.”  You shook your head. 

“Jake, please. If you’d just listen to me when I tell you I love you so m-”

“Stop, Y/N! Stop saying you love me! It makes everything so much worse! Please just stop saying it when I know it’s not true…” it was starting to grind on you hearing those words that used to be sacred, coming from her mouth. “I don’t want to hear it anymore, okay? Just stop.”

She sat silently for a few beats. “You used to look at me like I was the only thing you saw in the room. Now it’s like… I’m a piece of trash you don’t want to bother even picking up.”

“That’s about as close as you could get, Y/N.”

Fuck. Ouch. 

Here came the tears. “So now I’m trash to you, huh? Good. Great.”

No, you’re not trash. You’re all I ever wanted in the world, tainted by a really fucked up and irreversible decision. 

“Here we go with the crying again, shit.” You complained. You turned on the bed, pulling the covers down to place yourself inside, the headache bounding back like a hammer to the skull, and the itch in your throat gnawing at you,  “Just remember, I had nothing to do with your shit decision, Y/N. It’s all on you.” 

“You know what? No. I’m never going to stop telling you I love you. Because I do. I do and I always will. I love you and I miss you and I will never ever stop. I just…miss you Jake. I miss every single thing about you.” she cries.

“What do you mean. I can’t get like, two seconds away from you.” you quip.

“I miss you!… the things about you that only I know…” she pauses, catching her breath. 

“I miss…seeing your eyes change colors when the light hits them, turning them perfectly amber in the sun…how you sing along to albums when you’re cooking, I can always tell which song was your favorite on the album…I miss watching you drive us around with just your one hand on the steering wheel…I can never look away…I miss how your fingers tapped on me while you kissed me, but only when you had other intentions. ” she pauses. You feel your heart drop into your stomach.

“I miss hearing your voice go up an octave when you talk about guitar or your music, because you are just so passionate about it…I miss seeing how bright your smile is when you’re around babies, you smile with all of your teeth….I miss thinking about you and how you’ve gotten so much better at listening to Josh and Sam figure things out instead of speaking over them…you learned patience and it’s admirable…I miss watching you flip all of your hair over before you put it in a bun, and letting me run my fingers through it when you take it down….I miss sitting on the couch with you and watching your fingers subconsciously play the notes to the songs running through your mind…” she continues.

You feel your eyes well with tears and your throat start to burn. Are these really all things she loves? She notices these things?

“But the thing that I miss the most is the way your voice sounds when you tell me you love me. I know I’ll never hear it again, but… I will always remember the way it sounded.”

A tear rolled down your cheek, and you swiped it away quickly, not wanting her to see that she broke you. You did love her, but she was right, you weren’t sure if you would ever say it again.

She stayed quiet while she fought her own tears again, you could tell she was trying her best to dry them up. 

“You don’t have to push me away anymore, Jake. I get it. I’ll go along with the games. But I just want you to know I’m always going to tell you I love you, because I do. And whether or not you feel it in return is up to you.” She said, rolling to her side and pulling the blankets over her shoulders. 

You took a deep breath, letting her words sink in. It hurt. It really did hurt.

“Goodnight…” you heard her breathe. 

“Night.” You answered as short as you could manage. 

You laid there staring at the ceiling for a while, letting your mind replay all the instances she mentioned, the lump in your throat forming quickly. Stay strong Jake. Turning over to your side to let your eyes close you sighed into the pillow as you let your body relax. 

Your phone buzzed on the table, and you reached your hand behind you to pull it off the charger. Who the fuck. You squinted with one eye, the brightness of the screen making your head hurt worse. 

Elle

12:59am: Hey, Jake. Sorry to bother you so late. I know things have been a little weird since Vegas, and I just wanted to apologize to you if I stepped over any boundaries with you that night. I had had way too much to drink, and barely remember the details of anything that happened. Hope all is well.🤍

Whoa, what the fuck? Boundaries? 

You

1:02am: Thanks Elle, but what do you mean exactly? 

Elle 

1:04am: I had a really good time that night, and I hope you guys did too. But I hope you don’t take my actions as the kind of person I really am. And I hope I didn’t do anything to make you or Y/N uncomfortable. 

You

1:06am: Elle, don’t take this the wrong way, but I had too much to drink that night, too. I hardly remember much until I started searching for Josh and Daniel and I sobered up a bit…

Elle

1:09am: Well, I know you and I got pretty…close...if you know what I mean. I know things were getting hot and heavy, and I may have come on too strong, but we were both into it, I guess? And Sam and Y/N were also in their own little world. 

Fuck…hot and heavy… 

The thoughts of that night were buried deep, they were blurry anyway, and you’d be lying if you said you really had brought them up to yourself at all. You kept them buried… You remembered Elle straddled across you at one point, your hands exploring her body in every way except those ways…kissing, talking…wanting her…

You sighed, typing the text out as your stomach fell, and your palms got sweaty. 

You

1:11am: You didn’t come on too strong. Please don’t blame yourself. I remember feeling pretty into it, too. Did we…almost…did we talk about taking it further?

You hesitated hitting send, but you were already in this far…

Elle

1:14am: Yeah, we did. We talked about it. Do you not remember what you said? 

Suddenly, the memories started to clear their way back into your head…

‘Jake. You don’t have to lie…I can tell you’re into her, too…shit, look at her…I would be. I can see whatever is happening between you two…I’m not mad baby…’

Oh god…

‘Fine. Yeah I want to fuck her. I want to fuck her, badly. But you know you’re my girl.’

Oh no…were these thoughts real…no…

Elle

1:16am: Well, without going into too much detail, you basically said you wanted to sleep with me... and we were going to kind of…feel out Y/N and Sam and see what their thoughts were…

‘What if we….what about a free pass, babe… If that’s what you want…go for it. I trust you, I trust Elle.’

Fuck fuck fuck…you felt your heart begin to race at the realization…

‘Asking Sam, that’s another story, but. I promise you, it’s not something that would make me mad, look at us. Look what we’re doing right now…’

The memory was fuzzy still, but you remembered whispering to Elle while feeling her pressed up against you, chest to chest… ‘One way or another…’

No, no fucking way…you’d told Elle that you wanted to sleep with her. You remembered now, plain as day. You’d planned on it, and she was all for it. You slammed your phone down on the bed, the headache rushing back as the blood drained from your body. You rolled to your back, your hands covering your face as you listened to Y/N’s light breathing as she slept. 

You felt awful, absolutely devastatingly horrible. You’d treated Y/N like she was nothing, talked down to her worse than you ever should have. She wasn’t completely innocent in this situation, but now you knew, neither were you. Though you didn’t act on it, you had intentions to. And you’d talked to Y/N about it. If you hadn't gotten that phone call, what would have happened? Your conversation was cut off short, you were both unable to finish it. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck. 

You looked over to her, her face peaceful as she breathed, her hair all over the place. You grabbed your phone, texting Elle back. She still didn’t know about Y/N and Sam. 

1:19am

You: Damn it. Was that the extent of it? 

1:22am

Elle: Yeah, that was it. Then you got the phone call, you left and the three of us kept messing around a bit, but nothing more than what was already happening. Then I got sick and passed out. 

Then they went to the stairwell, apparently. 

1:25am

You: Ah, I see. I’m so sorry, Elle. I hope you didn’t think that I had come on too strong, either. But thank you for reminding me, I honestly had little to no memory of anything until you jogged it. I’m sure one day we’ll all sit down and talk about this together. 

You wanted to tell her that she was gorgeous and great, and yes, you were very attracted to her that night. Still were, honestly. Lots of ends were left untied that night, lots of questions unanswered.  That night in Vegas was one for the books, showing you a world you never thought you’d find yourself a part of. But unbeknownst to Elle, a fun night of debauchery had turned into something a lot more sinister. A lot more heartbreaking. But for now, you’d help keep her in the dark until Sam decided he would tell her. 

1:28am

You: Thanks for a really fun night, though. I enjoyed myself :) 

1:29am

Elle: Absolutely. Me too :)

You plugged your phone back into the charger, rolling back to physically punch yourself in the forehead for your bad decision, for how you’d been treating Y/N, and for how damn bad your headache was. You were almost just as guilty. You’d basically emotionally cheated. And if you were being honest, even if Y/N and Sam had played it off that they didn’t want it to happen, would you have listened? You shook the intrusive thoughts away again, truly questioning yourself. You couldn’t answer. 

The only thing you knew for sure right now was that you were sorry. You were so full of remorse for being this way toward Y/N, telling her to stop telling you she loved you only moments before you learned that you were most likely willingly going to take things further with Elle. There were still conversations to be had. Things to work through, and you knew you were valid in your feelings of being mad about what she and Sam did. This was going to take time and effort, and you still had much to ponder on. You were still very upset. 

A double-edged sword. Both sides slicing away at you. Digging into your heart. 

You removed yourself from under the blankets, and slowly walked over to Y/N’s bed, feeling like all you wanted to do was hold her close. You lifted the blankets and slid in behind her, wrapping your arms around her just like you had in your sleep the other night, except this time, you knew exactly what you were doing. 

In her sleep, she pushed back into you, her body fitting perfectly into yours as you cuddled her, finding her hand again, and interlacing your fingers with hers. She stirred a little as she moved to you, positioning herself in her perfect little spoon spot. You breathed in the smell of her hair, floral and fruity and perfect, and you let yourself relax. When she didn’t stir again, you knew she was back into deep sleep. Lying your face snug in the crook of her neck, you began to drift off. 

Once you knew it was safe and that she would never know, a whisper barely above a breath escaped you as you dug your face deeper into her hair. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you too. ‘Til the day I die.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Vigilance: The Outtakes - Rekindled

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[lewsnumerounofan]

late last night (lh x reader)

summary: lewis flies you out for a fun weekend, and maybe something more.

notes: nsfw, established hu to smth more?, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), tiny bit of angst. 2k words. did i change tense halfway thru? yeah i did. we dont talk abt it tho. all heavily inspired by @lewisyellowhelmet !!!!

+ check out other works here

+ was too lazy to fix formatting issues. oops

-----

The text came in just after midnight. In typical Lewis fashion it was short, to the point.

Come get away for a few nights. Promise I’ll make it worth your while.

And then a plane ticket, first class.

You tucked your phone into your chest, eyes scanning the street in front of you. He always did this. A late-night text and plane ticket, a promise for a fun weekend. And it was fun -- visiting Lewis’ expensive hotels under a fake name, eating lavish meals in the private rooms of the most esteemed restaurants, touching him quietly, secretly under the table. But Monday always came around and you’d wake up to an empty suite, cold coffee and a note from Lewis thanking you for a good time. 

Sighing, you texted back, fingers clumsy with cold.

Cant. Work is busy.

You closed your messages and made to head back inside when your phone lit up again.

A photo this time. It was poorly lit, but you could tell that whatever exotic timezone he was in had him in bed, shirtless, tattooed fingers resting easily over a white sheet. A white sheet that sat dangerously low on his taught hips. Though his face was cut out, the compass stretching over his muscled chest was unmistakable.

Even now, hundreds of miles between you, you felt a slow curl of heat between your legs.

And then: See you tomorrow

Cocky bastard.

-

It was mid-afternoon by the time your flight touched down, and the heavy race-weekend traffic ensured it was almost sunset before you arrived at the hotel. The man at the desk handed you a key and a knowing smile when you gave him your name.

The lobby was full of people, well-off couples preparing for a night out. You had to look away from a pair giggling together on one of the high-backed love seats, the brush of their lips intimate and familiar.

-

Lewis answers the door on your first knock. Doesn’t wait to help you drag your suitcase in, only cups your face and let his full lips slant over yours. Everything slips away as he holds you so reverently in his tattooed palms like you were the most precious thing in the whole world.

“Missed you.”

His voice is rough as he speaks, sleepy almost in its comfort. You smile at him, turn to kiss his wrist, bite it quickly.

You hear him groan as you shift back to your suitcase, pulling it inside the high-ceilinged room. You can barely concentrate on the dim candle-lit interior with Lewis’ hot body at your back, but you let your eyes linger on the twinkling sky line for a moment -- the stray lights of other lives, so far away.

And then Lewis, all pressed up behind you. Hands around your waist, pulling you back to him, back on him.

“Lewis...”

“Missed the way you say my name.”

You let him shuffle you to the couch, low set and plush, soft on your cheeks.

His hands on your jeans, eager but not rushed as he pulls them down. You shiver at the cold, at the glaze over Lewis’ eyes as he watches you squirm. A hot, wet kiss to your thigh, quick as he kneels between your legs. Kneels for you. Your lips part as his big hands wrap around the outside of your hips and tug you to the edge of the seat. Eyes on you, he tucks a finger into you, knowing you want more, need more. It’s too much and you look away, afraid he’ll see the vulnerability you’ve been biting back since he first opened the door. But he tuts and forces you back with a hand on your jaw.

“Eyes on me. Want you to watch what I do to you.”

And then he’s tugging your underwear off too, leaning down to replace his fingers with his tongue. You arch into him, trying to get away, trying to get more, but his hands are solid on your hips, keeping them open and splayed out for him.

“Lewis-”

He doesn’t bother responding, too busy fucking his tongue into you and circling your clit with his calloused thumb.

“Lewis, Lewis, Lewis.”

A prayer now, as you tug at his braids. Already your core is clenching, legs twitching on either side of his head. The sinful image of his ringed hand pressing into your stomach to pin you down --

You can’t stop yourself from tipping over the edge when he looks up at you, cheeks rosy, mouth red, tongue still working you. 

Hazy as he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom. The hotel now rests in a dark navy. Your breathing is loud in the quiet of the big room. Laying you down, Lewis kisses your forehead once, twice. A firm press of his lips. You feel him shift away and catch his wrist as he goes to stand. He can see the question in our eyes.

“Gonna get you a cloth to clean up,” he says, real soft and low.

You have to swallow before you speak again, quiet like it's a secret.

“You don’t have to. I mean, I want you. If…”

You’re flustered now, heat rising on your cheeks. Lewis’ sharp eyes don’t move from your face. He cuts you off with a kiss, harder this time. I want you too, it says.

“Okay,” he mumbles against your lips.

He’s moving over you now, the strength in his shoulders, his arms, making the predatory advance up your body easy. But he’s gentle as he nudges you back like he too can feel the shift.

The sheets are cool at your back, a stark contrast to the feverish heat from where your bodies are joined. You can feel him heavy and thick at your thigh even with his pants. Fumbling, almost desperate through kisses you unzip him, palming him once over his briefs before slipping your hand under to touch him.

He curses into you, breaking from your lips to rest his forehead on yours, eyes shining as they watch where you grip him. You’re aching to take him into your mouth, to finally taste him like you’ve been dreaming of for weeks, but Lewis has other ideas, instead going to fully remove his shirt and pants.

Seeing him like this always takes your breath away. The steady strength of him, the dark markings of his tattoos, the hard length of him. Looking at you from under a few escaped braids, Lewis looks like a god. A god intent only on worshipping you.

He’s crawling back up to you, groaning into your mouth as you brush together. His tongue claiming you, running along your teeth. He draws back quickly, pulling your thighs apart deftly to spit on your cunt. You throw your head back, gasping -- too tight, too frenzied at the feel of his spit coating you.

And then he’s back over you, crowding you. All Lewis, only Lewis.

“Okay?”

You nod into his shoulder, hands already leaving marks on his muscled back. Tomorrow, in the paddock and in the car, he’d feel them sting and think of you. The idea was enough to have you clenching on air, begging him to let you take it.

He only laughed, a lazy smirk revealing the tooth gap you loved so much.

“So needy for me, huh princess.”

And then he was forcing into you, even the tip a stretch, filling you up and more, more, more. You bit down hard on his shoulder as he sank into you.

“So good. S’always so good.”

His hips finally resting flat against yours, and the pressure of him inside you was more than you could bare. Lewis slipped his hand down -- down to press on the bulge in your stomach where he was now seated, chuckling roughly again when you cried out.

“You take me so well.”

He tongues the words into your mouth, finally moving inside you. A long drag out and then a snap of his hips and you knew you wouldn’t last. Not with him watching your lips with half-lidded eyes, jewellery glinting from the city’s lights, mouth open and red.

“Lewis.”

He shivers mid-thrust, burying his head back into your neck, kissing up your throat.

“Lewis,” you gasp, watching the push and pull of his back as he moved in you, the bunching of his shoulders and quick, timed rhythm of his hips. His hands on your leg, forcing you wider, taking more. Mouth wide as he bites at your neck, forces you back into the pillows. It’s too much, too good -- the clench of you around him, the moans he keeps spilling onto your skin.

“Lewis, I’m gonna-”

A slightly different slant to his pelvis, the hard slide of it over your clit as Lewis bottoms out inside you and you’re cumming, vision white as you gasp into his chest.

“Almost there baby. ‘M so close.”

Everywhere he’s touching you is fire, the overstimulation casting stars across your vision.

“Almost there,” he murmurs again, so low and husky. You can feel the stutter in his thrusts, hear the break in his voice as he pants above you.

“Finish in me.”

It’s a plea more than anything else but you know as soon as you speak the words that there’s nothing you’ve ever needed more.

“Cum in me Lewis, need it.”

His whole body tenses, eyes near savage as they meet yours.

“Yeah?”

You nod once, whimpering as his pupils blow wide, darken. His thrusts pick up again, harder this time. Vaguely you’re aware of the clock being knocked off the nightstand beside you, but you’re too busy watching Lewis to care.

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna make you mine, only mine.”

And then he’s cumming, pulsing in you as his hips weakly stuttered through a last push. Your weave your hands into his hair, place soft kisses over his nose, forehead, cheeks. He’s lazy as he kisses you, his full weight boring you down, keeping your legs open and aching. Only when his heart stops pounding does he pull away, a hoarse groan leaving his parted lips as he slips out of you. Not even self-respect could stop you from reaching for him but he stayed kneeling before you, big ringed hands parting your knees.

“Lewis?”

His hot gaze on your core, he drops two fingers down to push his cum back inside you. Arching against the mattress as he watched, mesmerized, as you fluttered around them, desperate for him again already.

“Need my cum inside you, yeah? Need me marking you.”

God. What was he doing to you? So desperate -- for what? What more could you take? But then he was moving again, tucking his semi-hard cock back inside you, pushing his cum deeper.

“Lewis,” a half sob this time, nearly drooling at the press of him, the sensitivity.

Tears in your eyes as he kissed you.

“S’okay. You can take it.”

--

The weekend was over before you knew it. Another win for Lewis. You watched from the hotel TV, suddenly feeling so very far away from him. The sticky lingers of champagne you licked off him when he got back.

This time was different somehow. He’d stayed to eat breakfast with you each morning, fingers playing over yours as you cradled your coffee. Or Saturday after a disappointing quali when you’d opened the door and he’d folded himself into you, kissing softly at your neck. You’d fallen asleep to a stupid TV show, room service discarded on the floor, Lewis’ chest rising and falling at your back.

But now it’s Monday. And when you check the clock -- the clock you’d had to get replaced after its untimely demise -- you see it’s late and you know Lewis has already left.

It shouldn’t bother you so much. Shouldn’t make you feel quite so empty. You take your time getting ready, showering but leaving your hair down and wet along your shoulders. It’s only after, when your stomach begins to grumble, that you leave the bedroom and the lingering smell of Lewis.

Except at the kitchen counter, clicking through data sheets and absentmindedly sipping at a steaming mug of tea is Lewis, sweats low at his hips, braids drawn back.

“Lewis?”

You wonder if you've got your days wrong, if you’d somehow dreamt up the glory of yesterday's win.

“Hey sleepy head,” he grins, twisting to watch you. You’re confused. He knows it too, tries not to flush as he clears his throat.

“Uh, I know I promised the weekend only. But my favourite caffe is only open Monday to Friday, so I thought I’d stay another day and we could go together.”

He’s not looking at you, hands twisted quietly in his lap. The seven time world champion sat before you blushing like a school girl. Oh, Lewis.

“We don’t have to though, I know you’re busy so-”

“What about tomorrow?” you ask.

Hi eyes are on yours now, brow furrowed.

“Tomorrow?”

You bite your lip, smile. You can’t help yourself as you move towards him, dragging your palms up his muscled legs.

“Yeah, what're we gonna get up to tomorrow?”

He’s grinning back at you now, all tooth gap and eye-crinkles.

“I’m sure we can come up with something. Okay?”

You're leaning into him, pushing up onto your tippy toes to kiss him, to fold the word into his mouth:

“Okay.”

[judeloverr]

Any Trent smutty story plz?

missed me- trent alexander arnold

trent alexander arnold x reader

warnings: smut, oral (f) praising- this is my first smut so don’t judge me please lol

word count : 1.7k

authors note: have a feeling i’ll get embarrassed then delete it so i’m not going to look at this again even though i have now smut fics coming out lol- thankyou for all the love on my other fics- thankyou for the request hope you enjoy

“how far are you” you asked your boyfriend who was on the phone with you, your phone pressed against your shoulder by your ear while you made your self a drink.

“about 10 minutes, there’s traffic” he spoke softly, excitement filled your body as you knew you would see your boyfriend after him being away for 2 weeks at the world cup. you had seen him on the tv when you watched the matches, but not actually being with him and not touching him was different.

“okay i’ll see you soon bye”

“bye” trent ended the call, you took your phone and placed it on the counter and put the drink cartoon back in the fridge. you made your way over to the couch and sat down.

10 minutes had passed and you hear the from door open and you hear the dogs bark and run straight to the door, you get up from the couch and make you way to the front door. trent is crouched down to the floor greeting the dogs with his luggage behind him. you lean against the door way not making your presence known until he looks up and shows an affectionate smile, you see the corner of his eyes crinkle and he stands up and makes his way over to you.

“hi” he softly says and wraps his arms tightly around your waist, your arms wrap around his neck and squeeze him slightly.

“hi” you whispered back and feel his hands go under your shirt and caress your hips lightly. his head falls into the crook of your neck and kisses the skin under your jaw gently. you stand holding each other in comfortable silence just enjoying each others company.

trent let’s go of your waist and takes his head from the crook of your neck to look at you, your hands stayed loosely around his neck, faces so close your lips were almost touching.

“i missed you” he voice was soft, you could tell he was very tired which was understandable due to all the travelling back from Qatar. you smiled gently and replied by pressing your mouth against his to show how much you missed him, you felt trent’s lashes against your cheek when he closed his eyes. when you pulled away trent had a warm smile on his lips, you kissed his cheek and the corner of his mouth and released yourself from your boyfriend.

“i missed you too, do you want something to eat?” you questioned and made your way towards the kitchen.

“nah, i ate on the plane, i just want a shower then to go to bed” he admited, he followed behind you and watched you put the remaining glasses in the dishwasher, his eyes followed down your body, focusing on the way your legs and ass moved in your shorts and when you bent over to get somthing from the other side of the counter.

“oka- are you checking me out?” you snigger and see his eyes move from quickly from your ass and up to your face, his face goes a little pink.

“no i wasn’t” trent replies and lazily leans against the doorway of the kitchen.

“hm sure” you nod your head.

“i’m going to shower now, wanna join?” trent says while removing his england jumper.

“no it’s fine, i had one earlier before you arrived” you said and watched his muscles move under his tight shirt. trent nodded while turning around and heading up to your shared bed room, the shower turned on signalling that trent was now showering. after finishing the dishwasher you tuned off all the lights and said goodnight to the dogs.

the bathroom door was shut when you walked into your bedroom, you could hear trent shuffling around. your sleepwear was always trent’s shirts so you retrieved another one from the draw and put it on and removed your shirts now only left in pants and a shirt.

the bathroom door opens, trapped steam escapes the bathroom as-well as your boyfriend clad in only a pair of Calvin klien boxers. you watch as he walks towards his draw where you just were, his well defined abs move slightly when he walks, when at the draw he has his back to you, you see the his muscular muscles move when he does. you divert your eyes away from your boyfriend and feel a blush appear on your cheek. you know he’s all yours but he still have that affect on you that makes your knees buckle.

you move the duvet and get into the bed, trent following straight after you.

“fuck me it’s cold here” he complains and gets under the duvet to get more comfortable.

“no it’s you aren’t used to it yet, bet qatar was really warm” you move on your side facing him and put your hand under your head so you can lean on it. trent copies your position but moves his entire body close to yours, nearly touching.

“yeah it was, was at first difficult to train in, but we all got used to it in the end” trent’s hand moves to your face and brushes a stand of hair out of your face and behind your ear. his hand falls to the side of your face, just below your jaw. the pad of his thumb rubs your jawline soothingly. trent’s eyes lock with yours and before you know it his lips are on your mouth.

trent’s lips move hungrily against yours and you kiss him back, leaning closer to his body and placing your hand on his face and the other on the nape of his neck. trent shuffles around and placed him self above you, slotted between your open legs.

his plump lips break from yours and attach to your jaw, heavy pants leaving your lips as you try and catch your breath when he places open wet kisses along your neck, sucking on the skin definitely leaving some marks.

“you don’t understand how much i fucking missed you” trent mumbles into your neck still leaving sloppy kisses there.

“show me” you moan out when trent sucks on your sweet spot just below your ear. “show me how much you missed me”

“dont you worry i will” trent whisper lowly into your ear. you could feel yourself becoming for arosued and beginning to feel desperate for him. you felt trent hands tug your shirt, you sat up quickly lifting your arms and allowing him to remove your shirt, letting your breasts be free, the cold hitting your nipples making them pucker out.

a whimper leaves your lips when trent’s wraps his lips around your nipple, hands holding your boobs and begins to lap his tongue around it. trent pushes you back into the bed, knee between your thighs, pressing against your heat. you subconsciously begin to grind against his thigh.

trent’s lips travel and kiss down your stomach and towards your panties, you lift you head up to watch him as his eyes lock with yours when he removes the clothing.

now bare in front of him he mutters “you’re so beautiful”

“trent” you whine, nudging is shoulder with your calf indicating for him to touch you.

“eager are we?” he teases, stroking the inside of your thigh travelling closer to pussy. your whole body jolts and a moan leaves your mouth when his lips wrap around your clit and starts to suction. you moan loudly, reaching down to his hair to pull it. you feel the pleasure building up at a frantic rate and the familiar heat pooling in your lower back as trent laps your swollen clit.

back arching with pleasure trent knows you are close, cockiness and pride fills his body as he knows how to get you to orgasm hard and fast. your hips twitch, legs pushing against his shoulders.

“trent please” a soft whimper fell from your lips as soon as trent pulled away from you, your hips grinding on air to find some sort of friction. trent pulls down his boxers to let himself free, he grabs hold of his cock and teases his tip through your folds and circles your clit at a painfully slow rate. trent grabs your thighs and swiftly pulls you closer to him. he leans over your body still not inside you, his face over yours kissing you deeply while lining up his cock at your entrance and slotting himself into you in one fast thrust.

your hand wraps around his neck, heavy pants leaving your open mouth which is joined by trent’s when he pulls out a pushes himself back into, his thrusts making your body twitch.

“fuuuck” a long groan leaves trent’s mouth when you pull on his hair, his lips kissing down your jaw and neck while his thrusts speed up with paste.

trents hand goes down to your throbbing clit, touching it making another moan escape and your body clenching as his fingers press firmly on it.

“shit” a high pitch whine is released when his finger speed up over your clit while he pounds into you relentlessly. “i’m gonna come” you whimper into his ear, back arching as the climax approaches.

“i know baby i know, you can come” trent lets out a shaky breath, thrusts becoming sloppy as you know the pleasure for him will hit its climax aswell like yours. with one last powerful thrust trent’s hips stutter while you clench around his cock as you arch your bag, legs shaking from your incoming orgasm.

“f-fuck, it feels so good ” you moan, eyes rolling to the back, twitching uncontrollably while trent sucks your neck to bring your orgasm on more. you hear trent groaning and moaning your name while your walls flutter around his cock bringing his orgasm out. his abs twitch while he comes inside of you, and he watches your chest go up and down uncontrollably while you recover after your orgasm. while still panting heavily trent slumps on top of your, head on your sweaty chest, your fingers scratching his head lightly while he overcomes his orgasm.

“you did miss me huh?” you question with a breathless laugh.

“yeah i did. a lot”

[smoooothoperator]

Save Your Tears

01: Lose It All

Driver! Mick Schumacher x opera singer! OC (Ophelia Becker)

Strangers to friends to lovers, love at first sight, long plane flight, personal drama, opera references

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: death of a parent

a/n: hello beautiful people!! Welcome to the first chapter of my newest story! I hope everyone likes it!

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

Masterlist

next part

Music was always her dream. Singing was her dream, imagining herself in the middle of a stage singing a beautiful aria of an opera was always her dream.

Her mom was her inspiration. She grew up following her around the world, watching her sing big titles of opera, being the main character of the stories: Aida, Norma, Tourandot were only a few of the names she used to portray. Ever since she was a baby, she was attached to her hip while she had rehearsals, being fed by her during the breaks and playing with the singers that didn't have to sing in the scene. She met a lot of people, people that helped her be who she is right now. Orchestra conductors, opera singers, scene directors… all of them watched her grow up and become the woman she is now.

That day was the best day of her life. She just did a premiere of her first time singing as the main character of an opera. Her cheeks hurt because of her unreadable smile, hugging her coworkers and members of the production, hugging the roses they gifted her.

Everything was perfect. Her role as Juliette was perfect for her, everyone loved how she portrayed the character. The audience was happy to see how the heiress of the big Cordelia Becker is as perfect as her mother.

"Miss Becker, you've got a call" her manager said, tapping softly on her shoulder, interrupting the conversation with one of the owners of the opera foundation.

Ophelia smiled and nodded, excusing herself and walking away with her phone in her hand, walking outside the big luxurious room and standing on a balcony.

"Yeah, who is?" the young woman asked, smiling, curious about who would be calling at this hour.

"Miss Becker, I'm so sorry to inform you that your mother has died this evening from cardiac arrest" the voice said, sounding far away yet so close to her ear.

"W-what? What do you mean? You are joking right?" she frowned, looking around. "I talked with her a few hours ago. You might be wrong"

"I fear I'm not joking" the woman said. "I'm your mother's doctor, today she collapsed after a concert…"

The voice started to fade out. The dress suddenly started to feel too tight, not letting her breathe. The world was spinning around her, she had to balance herself leaning on the wall of the building. 

"Are you there?" 

"Oh, sorry…" she mumbled. "Eh… where did you say she is right now?"

"In Zurich" the doctor said. "If you don't mind… you are the only familiar contact she has, you have to come and do all the paperwork"

Of course, Zurich. Her home. 

"Yeah… okay" she sighed, feeling her heart breaking slowly.

She ended the call, wanting to throw the phone down the street. She saw the people on the street, how unbothered they seemed to be, how perfect their life looked. 

"Ophelia?" 

Her manager was standing by the door of the balcony, opening it and looking at her worriedly.

"Ophelia, you are going to get cold, come back inside" she insisted.

"She's dead" Ophelia mumbled, turning around and facing her manager, her friend.

"What? Who?"

"My mother. She's dead"

It feels unreal to say it. It's a dream, no, a nightmare. She only has to wake up and everything will be fine. 

But… Why is she feeling the wind? Why is she hearing the traffic under her feet? 

"Do you want me to drive you to the hotel? I'll get you plane tickets"

Ophelia only nodded, not saying a word. She followed the woman close, not looking around to the people sending curious gazes at her, wanting to know what was happening. 

What now? What will happen now? 

She has to leave. They will have to cancel the next day's concert. She has to make an official announcement of what happened.

"Are you sure you are okay?" 

She looked at her side, her manager sitting next to her on the backseats of a taxi.

How did she get inside of it? She can't remember.

"I am" Ophelia nodded, looking to the front.

She was on autopilot. No emotions shown yet, not even tears. She was trained to keep her emotions for herself during her performances, but right now wasn't the place nor the moment to keep the tears for herself.

When the car stopped in front of her hotel she got out of the vehicle quickly, rushing to the hall and going to her room. The suitcase is everything but ready, all her clothes were still in the wardrobe, since she planned to spend more than a week there. She has to put all her clothes there.

"I already reserved a flight" her manager announced, walking inside the room. "You have to be in the airport in three hours"

"Perfect" she nodded, looking at the clothes, still hanging in the wardrobe.

She stared at them for some minutes, scanning every piece of clothing and feeling that she was missing something.

"I don't have black" she said, turning around and looking at her manager.

"I'll manage, you are going home, you have black dresses…"

"I'll go buy one" she said, grabbing her bag, ignoring that it was already late and stores weren't open. "I can't go with a concert dress, my mother wouldn't approve that"

"Ophelia, it's already nine" her manager frowned. "You have to pack your suitcase and go immediately to the airport!"

"I have to buy black clothes!" she exclaimed, losing her self control. "I don't care about the time! I have to buy clothes that I'll burn later because I don't want to remember the day my mother died! Don't you get it? So go call a fucking store or whatever place and find me something! I can't stop at home, I can't!"

She can't go home. She knows that once she steps inside of that apartment it will bring her memories and the reality will hit her immediately.

"Okay, take a deep breath" her manager sighed, taking a step closer to her. "I have a friend here that works in a store, maybe I can find you something"

"Quickly" she sighed.

Her manager left her alone, making the silence slowly kill her.

Her mother died. The only person in the world she can call a family, has died. She doesn't know who her father is, maybe one of those singers her mother used to hang out when she was younger. Her grandparents stopped supporting her mother when she decided to start a music career.

"This can't be happening" she mumbled, pacing around the room, taking off the dress that was suffocating her. "No, this is not real"

She laughed loud, not being able to control herself anymore. In what type of movie is she? She feels like the main character of one of those movies where she's all by herself.

But now she is by herself. She doesn't know her father nor her grandparents. She doesn't have a boyfriend. Her friends have the same job as her and travel around the world to do music.

"Fucking… God!" she exclaimed, grabbing the first thing she found and throwing it to the wall.

She's alone in this world. 

"Take a deep breath" she sighed looking at the mirror. "You can be calm. You can do this. No tears. You are not a baby"

She took a deep breath and smiled, fakely, to her reflection. This is how life is, one moment you talk with someone you love and then the next hour that person is dead.

"Ophelia, open" her manager knocked on the door. "I have the dress, did you make your suitcase?"

She looked at the woman, how she was holding a dress bag. 

"What were you doing this hour?" she frowned, looking at Ophelia and grabbing all the clothes of the wardrobe and folding them quickly, placing them on the suitcase. "Ophelia. Ophelia!"

"I lost my mom" she whispered.

"Yes I know" her manager frowned. 

"I…"

"There's no time. You have a plane to take"

Ophelia looked at her. Eloise, her manager, was like a maternal figure, always making sure she takes care of herself and don't get sick, and when she does, she always goes to the pharmacy and get her medicine before she asks. She was there for her since she started her career, helping her reach her dreams and making them come true.

"I should do an announcement" Ophelia mumbled, watching how the older woman closed the suitcases. "A-and I have to get changed…"

"Put this" Eloise said, grabbing the same clothes she came with to the city, jeans and an oversized hoodie she bought on her previous concert place. "Quickly"

When she felt the dress getting lighter on her body, after Eloise unzipped it, she changed, looking at herself in the mirror. 

Ophelia can feel the thoughts and emotions inside her mind, hearing them buzzing like bees inside a box. 

Again, she was on autopilot, and immediately she was inside a car again on her way to the airport.

"I sent you the ticket to your phone. You have to run, there are traffic and once I drop you there you have to go as fast as you can"

She only nodded, looking outside through the window. 

"Cancel all the concerts I have this month and the next one" Ophelia mumbled. 

"That much?" Eloise frowned. "Are you sure?"

"I have to take care of my mom's things" she said. "I have to make a funeral, I have to bury her. So… yes, I am sure"

When the car stopped in front of the main door of the airport, she stayed ten seconds inside of the vehicle, looking at the people walking inside the building. Eloise opened the door after watching that she was still inside the car and sighed.

"Come on, get out" 

Ophelia nodded and sighed, grabbing her backpack and hiding herself under the hood of the hoodie. She felt her manager's arms around her, making her sigh and hide her face on the shoulder of the woman.

"You can do this" she whispered. "You are strong. I'll join you in a few days, okay? I have to take care of things here"

Everything was in slow motion. The people around her were walking slowly, smiling and laughing, hugging and crying. There are welcomes and goodbyes, first encounters and last encounters. 

All the thoughts inside her mind were too loud, not letting her hear how the speakers were giving the last call for her flight. It was too late when she heard them, making her grab her suitcase and backpack and run through the corridors and nearly falling to the ground.

For what? She already missed the flight. The moment she was a few meters away from the gate, the footbridge that connected the gate to the plane was already gone. 

"No" she mumbled, feeling her heart sinking down to the floor. "No, no, no"

It was a miracle that the flight attendant offered her a new plane ticket for the next flight. 

She could feel how red her eyes were, holding all the tears she can't let fall. Sitting on the benches, looking outside the window how the plane she was supposed to take started to fly, she felt sad.

Her stomach started to rumble, making her gasp and look around, embarrassed when she heard a woman chuckle. When was the last time she ate? Maybe before the performance… seven hours ago. 

"Excuse me…" she mumbled nervously, looking at the sandwich the lady was eating. "Where did you get that?"

"There's a store there, you can buy food"

She nodded and sighed, her stomach rumbling more at the mention of food. Ophelia looked at her phone, sighing. She barely has battery.

"Fuck" she groaned, looking around, funding a table where some people used their laptops and phones.

She walked towards that table, nervous. What if she talks with someone and she breaks down immediately?

"Oh, excuse me" she smiled weakly to a woman, patting her shoulder "Hi, yeah. Do you casually have a charger for an iPhone? I just forgot mine and the ones of those stores there.are so expensive and I already wasted a lot of money buying a business seat…"

"I'm sorry, no"

She sighed, wanting to cry. Today everything goes wrong. She needs to scream, not caring if she won't talk the next morning.

"I have an iPhone charger" someone said behind her, making her gasp and turn around.

Then their eyes met. She saw his blue eyes looking at her, how his lips curved with a polite smile. 

Somehow, his voice made the thoughts inside of her mind stop buzzing.

"Here" he smiled, disconnecting his phone from the charger and letting her use it.

taglist

@racinggirl @elisysd @lorarri @musingsbyshreya

[atom-writings]

(Hetalia Main 8 x Reader) What they look for in a partner!

(Gender Neutral) Headcanons ~ A/N realized that if i want traffic on this account instead of the other i gotta start answering over here. anyway FUN REQUEST!!!! yippee!!!

Trigger Warning: None. Fluff, except for when I might say that your fav prefers someone not like you. But don't worry they still prefer you actually, they told me themselves.

Alfred is really not that romantically inclined, so the most important thing in a S/O for him is just… being chill and fun.

He’d like a partner that finds his random whims as fun as he does. Someone who would love to go on impromptu road trips and jump in the ocean with all your clothes on!

He really wouldn’t get along well with a S/O that tries to tone him down or constantly tell him no. Being able to reel him in a little bit would be good, but everyone else is always limiting him, he wouldn’t want you to be one of those people.

Another thing he’d absolutely adore is a partner that’s very unique! He doesn’t like being bored, so if you’re weird he’d love it!

Someone who is willing to engage with his interests!!! He will do the same for you happily!!! Go to plane museums and watch silly superhero movies!!!

Overall, Alfred doesn’t really have a type as much as a general vibe he likes in a partner. Someone whose weird, kind, and fun!

Arthur, unlike Alfred, is very romantically inclined! He would want a S/O that he can have a classic fairytale romance with.

Someone who is patient but also stubborn like him would be ideal. He can get a bit frustrating to deal with, so his S/O has to be… un-steam rollable? His S/O has to be willing to stand their ground and think clearly.

He’d love someone who's quite sarcastic and snarky. His partner should be capable of making fun of others in private without crossing the line into actually being mean.

He loves big romantic gestures! Anyone who is comfortable receiving those as well as doing them for him <3

Anyone who isn’t too sensitive. He’d prefer if the two of you can just tell each other what you want & need bluntly. He tries not to be super blunt, but that often ends up with just more confusion.

Someone who prefers quality time over quantity of time. He tries to be perfect for you, but that can get pretty tiring. If you’re independent, all the better. Don’t worry though, you’ll always be perfect to him, no effort required <3

Yao has had hundreds of partners, but never for very long. What he really wants is a S/O that isn’t a lot of pressure to be around.

He’d prefer a partner that’s willing to fulfill more of a… stay at home role. He’s very traditional and he finds the outside world stressful enough, he just wants a S/O that can always be calm and consistent.

He’d love a S/O that has older sensibilities like him, but he’d still see the value in a younger partner too. He can deal with being confused all the time, but he’d prefer not to.

Anyone who doesn’t require a lot from him, since he doesn’t want a lot from his partner either. He’s very domestic, and wants to see his partner as a relief from everyone else.

Someone who’s hardworking and honest! He wants to share values with his S/O, and being able to put in the effort while still being humble is a good indicator of that. He finds most upper-class people to be stuck up, so he would prefer a partner unlike those people.

Francis really does not have any specific type. Trying to find any overarching theme with his past partners is impossible- all he wants is someone interesting!

He’d really love someone he can hold an intelligent conversation with. He may seem dense, but he loves discussing art and literature. A S/O who loves to do that would be perfect!

He’d prefer a partner that loves doing exciting things! Whether that be creating a massive painting with him, visiting China on a whim, opening a restaurant together, or else, he just wants to have lots of incredible experiences with you.

Someone who doesn’t tease or question him when he’s vulnerable. Being completely honest is hard for him, so a comforting S/O is exactly what he needs.

He’d like for his partner to not rely on him too much. Being independent but still close is his ideal relationship!

Anyone who has tons of interests! He loves sharing his own life and fascinations with you, so he’d like you to do the same. He finds your unique perspective on everything to be incredibly interesting.

Ivan only really values one thing in a partner. Loyalty! The most important thing in a S/O for him is just being able to trust that they’ll stay.

He’d love a partner that is just incredibly kind! If his S/O was overly snarky, rude, or otherwise, he’d worry that they’d turn on him one day.

Anyone who doesn’t pressure him to change too much. He wants to get better for you, but knowing you’re upset with him makes it worse. He’s very set in his ways. 

Someone who doesn’t require a lot from him, romantic-wise. He’d prefer to go on a drive around St. Petersburg or sit in front of the fire reading, rather than go to a fancy restaurant or travel.

But other than that, he’d prefer someone very different. Be that because they��re loud, super chill, hyper, deathly quiet, or otherwise. He finds the company of someone most don’t like to be most comforting. Society doesn’t like him either, you’re meant to be together!

Someone who can get along with his sisters-

Most importantly, someone who likes him just the way he is! He really just wants a partner that’ll stay, won’t make fun of him, and won’t be scared by him.

Feliciano is also a simple man, he doesn’t care what his S/O is like as long as they truly love him for him. Cowardice, awkwardness, and clumsiness and all.

He’s a very traditionally romantic guy, so a S/O that can appreciate those things would be perfect!

He’d prefer someone he doesn’t have to have a lot of conflict with. Someone who’s easy-going like him! Fighting makes him cry and he really doesn’t know how to resolve conflict…

Someone who loves his country!!! He’s very proud of it and wants to show you every little part, along with 6-hour backstories accompanying it-

He’d love a S/O that’s strong unlike him. Someone who’s tough (emotionally or physically) while still being kind would literally be like a dream to him. He finds the most beauty in people that he knows he could never be like.

Anyone that isn’t overly sarcastic and blunt. He can find it funny sometimes, but often it ends up making him insecure. He’d prefer a partner that loves fully and unironically!

He doesn’t really care about anything other than that. All he wants is a non-complicated, loving relationship!

Ludwig doesn’t have anything specific he looks for, but he would love a S/O whose responsible like him while still being more easy-going.

Anyone who is consistent, always willing to just listen to him talk through his problems.

His partner would have to get along with his friends. That’s something that’s very important to him. He’d love if you guys were all friends, but if you’re only able to be passively friendly that’d be fine too.

Someone who doesn’t put all the pressure on him like everyone else does! He’d prefer if he doesn’t have to take care of or stress out about you, at least not for an extended period of time.

He’d love a partner that doesn’t try to change him. He admits that he can stand to loosen up and improve in a lot of areas, but pressuring him to do so makes it worse! You can trust that’ll try to get better on his own time, don’t worry.

Anyone who can tease him without hurting his feelings! In private, he’s rather jovial so I imagine you two would have a pretty light-hearted, funny repertoire. Just as long as it doesn’t get too serious.

Kiku, unsurprisingly, has relatively high standards for how his S/O is. He’s a very particular person, and he would like his S/O to meet those particulars. But of course, he’s still willing to make exceptions <3

At first, he’d find a S/O that’s more blunt and clear quite stressful, but he quickly realizes that it’s a great trait! Someone has to be able to speak up for the two of you.

He’d love a partner that he can sit in silence with. Him, reading manga or writing, while you play video games or whatever you want to be doing. He prefers just being in your presence over constantly having to engage with each other.

He doesn’t care much for a super independent S/O, but he wouldn’t mind it. He’d prefer that you two are like two halves of a whole. Your attachment is easy, no stress. Kiku would love to just do everything together, regardless of whether or not you’re talking during.

Someone who doesn’t judge him for his interests or his … nonchalant reactions to things. He gets embarrassed easily, so sometimes even teasing is overwhelming. He wouldn’t ever question you, so he’d appreciate the same.

[trulybetty]

october | 25 x jack-o-lanterns

pairing: frankie x f!reader word count: 1,590 warnings: talks of starting a family, marriage and as always un-beta'd. summary: a visit to Frankie's hometown. ao3: linked

{ x. series masterlist }

author note: prompts are not in chronological order, the story is told throughout the life span of the relationship. once all are posted, I'll post a list of the prompts in chronological order.

25 x Jack-o-Lanterns.

You arrived in El Paso under a vast expanse of clear blue sky, the sun casting a warm glow over everything it touched. You rolled the window down of the rental car and breathed in the scent of the warm autumn air that held a hint of desert sage. It filled your lungs and warmed your chest and the overwhelming feeling of home felt like a warm hug.

Frankie glanced over at you from the driver’s seat, a smile playing on his lips as he watched you take it all in. The radio was blaring out an old Springsteen song, the two of you in comfortable silence since you’d left the airport. The world seemed to slow down and for a moment it felt like you and Frankie were the only ones in it.

It always felt good to be away from the constant hustle of Frankie’s military life, to put physical distance between you and it, if only for a short while. Frankie seemed lighter here, the tension that often tightened his shoulders easing the moment the plane had taken off from North Carolina. This place, his hometown, this was where you got to see Frankie flourish.

Frankie’s mother was not amused you wouldn’t be staying with her this trip—but with the birth of Maria’s third daughter Lucia three months ago and a husband on a long deployment—Frankie had wanted to soak in as much time as he could with his baby sister and nieces. The house had been a hive of activity. The moment you’d stepped through the door, you were both enveloped by the sounds of laughter and the patter of little feet scampering across the tiled floor.

Sofia and Elena, immediately latched onto their uncle's legs, squealing with delight as he feigned being weighed down by both of them. “Tío Frankie! Tía!” they’d cried in unison. Maria emerged from the kitchen, baby Lucia cradled in her arms, her face lighting up at the sight of her brother.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” she teased.

“Traffic was a nightmare,” Frankie joked, winking at his sister. Before he had even finished hugging her, he had corralled his youngest niece out of her arms and into his.

The warm glow of late afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains as you sat on the couch, cradling little Lucia in your arms, after finally being pried from Frankie’s. Her tiny fingers curled around yours, and you couldn't help but smile at her peaceful expression. Across the room, Frankie was sprawled on the floor, his nieces climbing over him like a jungle gym as he pretended to be a monster, eliciting squeals of delight from the girls.

Maria dropped in the seat next to you, looking a lot more refreshed after the nap Frankie had forced her to take. Maria had grumbled something about him being worse than their mother, but hadn’t taken much convincing to go enjoy several hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Sinking into the cushions her eyes followed her daughters as they clambered over Frankie, “He’s always been so good with kids,” she remarked as you both looked over at him now giving Elena a piggyback ride.

“He’s a natural,” you agreed, “They can’t get enough of him.”

Maria nodded, “Every family event, same thing—you turn around and he’s got a baby in his arms. He’s the designated baby whisperer,” she laughed. “I sometimes wonder if he secretly enjoys the competition when it’s time to hand them back.”

You chuckled, “Oh, he absolutely does. I think he sees it as a challenge.”

The scent of pumpkin wafted in from the kitchen, a reminder of the morning's activities. No sooner had you arrived, you were back out the door for an afternoon at the pumpkin patch. The girls had insisted on finding the biggest pumpkins they could carry—or rather, the biggest ones Frankie could carry for them. Now the prized carved pumpkins sat proudly on the kitchen table, awaiting their debut when the sun dipped below the horizon.

Maria took a sip of her tea, her face turning contemplative, “Have you two talked more about starting a family?” she asked gently.

From anyone else you might have bristled at the question, it was a constant topic of conversation, only beat out by why Frankie and you weren’t married after being together for more than half a decade. But Maria knew what life was like as a military spouse.

You sighed, your eyes drifting to the baby in your arms, adjusting the blanket around her, “We’ve talked about it,” you admitted, “But Frankie still wants to wait until he’s out of the service. With all the moving and the unpredictability…”

She reached over and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, “I get it. I mean, with Marcus being enlisted it’s hard enough, and he’s not even in a fraction of the demand Frankie is. The girls miss him a lot when he’s away.”

You offered a small smile, “It’s something we’re both looking forward to, just when the time is right.”

Maria’s eyes sparkled as she shifted the conversation, “Well, Mama hasn’t given up on hearing wedding bells for you two,” she teased, “so don’t be surprised if she drops one of her not-so-subtle hints on you tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a laugh, this wasn’t new territory, Frankie’s mother. However you took it in your sted, she was your biggest fan.

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” you replied with a wry smile. “I think last time we were here she had the whole thing planned out in her head.”

Maria snorted, “Probably down to the centrepieces. You know how she is.”

As if on cue, Frankie’s head popped up from the end of the couch, his hat gone and his hair mussed from roughhousing with the girls. “What are you two conspiring about over here?” he asked, a playful glint in his eye.

“Just discussing Mama’s favourite topic,” Maria replied with a smirk.

Frankie groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch between you and his sister and within seconds already was giving you grabby hands for the baby. You laughed and carefully transferred Lucia into Frankie’s waiting arms. He cradled her with practiced ease, his large hands gentle as he adjusted her blanket.

“You know,” Frankie said, his voice low and teasing, “we could always elope and deny Mama the satisfaction.”

Maria swatted his arm playfully, “Don’t you dare. She’d never forgive you and I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Ah, but think of all the drama we’d avoid,” Frankie countered, winking at you.

You shook your head, smiling, “Your mother would hunt us down.”

Before Frankie could respond Elena and Sofia charged into the room declaring it was dark enough for the pumpkins to be lit. After much excitement and logistics, you had all ended up on the porch with the newly carved pumpkins lit with tiny tea lights. An impromptu photoshoot later, Sofia’s request, your phone was full of experimental angles of pumpkins and awkward selfies.

As evening settled in, Maria having ushered the girls inside to get ready for bed. You and Frankie had remained on the porch, soaking in the warm evening air. The sky was clear, stars starting to peek out, tiny pinpricks lighting the darkening sky.

You yawned, “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

Frankie let out a laugh and rolled his eyes, “My mother has been blowing up my phone since the moment we touched down.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in closer and your arms wrapped around his waist hugging him tight, “She’s just excited to have her baby boy home.”

“That and to integrate me in person,” he muttered, though you could hear the humour in his voice as a laugh rumbled in his chest.

“She’s not exactly subtle,” you said tilting your head up to look at Frankie.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you.

“You know, I do think about it a lot,” Frankie spoke quietly, as if afraid of disrupting the silence. “Getting married, I mean.”

You held your breath, your heart skipping a beat as you waited for Frankie to continue.

“Yeah?” you prompted softly, not wanting to break the spell that seemed to have fallen over the moment. It wasn’t as if you and Frankie hadn’t discussed marriage, it was spoken about as a case for when not if. Late-night conversations for a future ahead, for a home where you could settle and place permanent roots.

Frankie nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Yeah,” he affirmed, his voice low and tender. “Being back here, with you… seeing you with the girls, Lucia…” his voice trailed off, “it makes me think about it more.” he took a deep breath, “I think about it when we’re thousands of miles apart and I’ve got Benny snoring in my ear and I’d take your snoring over his,” you elbowed him playfully and he feigned hurt. “But seriously,” his voice dropping back to that low soft tone that made you feel warm, “I do think about it a lot, of us, of a future together and how I haven’t felt like this about anyone before.”

Your heart fluttered. “Frankie Morales, are you proposing?”

He smiled softly. “Not here, not like this. You deserve better than a half-baked proposal on my sister's porch.” He squeezed your hand. “I just wanted you to know that it's always on my mind. And when the time is right, I'll make it official.”

[thisisarcanereverie]

When the World Went to Shit (Chapter 5)

Joel Miller x FEM! Reader

A/N: this is a SPOILER WARNING, this contains spoliers from the third episode (and more to come). This is a day late, watched episode 5 last night for the first time and I needed a moment oh my god. I was barely ready to write about episode 3, now I have to look forward to episode 5. I am already in tears over it.

WARNINGS: Canon level of violence, swears, reader is ready to fight a goddamn child, Joel is sad, talks of grief, PTSD, brief mentions of gore, Eventual Smut, pining (on both ends), grumpy idiots in love, reader is in her late 30's to early to mid 40's. Major character deaths. DISCLAIMER NO CHARACTERS/GIFS/PICS USED ARE MINE.

Summary: 20 years later after the world went to shit you, Joel, and Tess have to take 14 year old Ellie to the Firefly base outside of Boston QZ. What was supposed to be a simple plan turned into something much more complicated.

Prev. Chapter

After leaving the station you continued on your walk, you were thankful for the decent weather at least. No rain or snow or anything really that could slow you down. Once again you were looking around your surroundings, careful to make sure there were no signs of any other person using this trail but you and Joel. 

“So…” Ellie started, “how did you guys meet?” she kicked a rock further down the road, one that she had been kicking since a few yards back. 

“That’s a random question.” You said, looking at her. 

“Well it’s going to be a while until we reach Bill and Franks,” Ellie pointed out, kicking the rock again, “and it’s been killing me, I wanna know!” 

“Well,” you started since you knew Joel wouldn’t answer, “we met before the outbreak.” 

“But how long before the outbreak?” 

“It was 1984.” you said doing the math in your head, “so that would’ve been 18 years or so before the outbreak.” You see her jaw drop and stop kicking the rock. 

“Wow,” Ellie gawked, “you both are old, like dinosaur old.” you rolled your eyes and slightly pushed her shoulder. 

“Not that old,” You said before pretending to think, “well maybe except Joel.” 

“Ha ha ha,” Joel laughed dryly, “good one.” You smiled behind him as you turned to Ellie who was smiling too. 

“So that means Joel is older than you?” 

“By six or seven odd years,” You said, “his brother Tommy was a friend of mine.” 

“How old is Tommy?” 

“Let’s get off the subject,” Joel said. You could see his shoulders stiffen at the mention of Tommy. When everything went down and Tommy joined the Firefly’s Joel was livid with him. They were barely on speaking terms before he left and it broke your heart to see the two brothers dissolved into that. 

“Holy shit,” you heard Ellie say as she rushed to the side of the road where a small clearing of trees were. An airplane wreckage, when you were younger you were terrified of them but what you wouldn’t give to see a functional one up in the air. You looked over your right to see Joel standing beside you, you wonder if Joel ever reminisced about random, mundane things and missed it like you did. Like running late to work because of traffic so you were forced to listen to the radio as it cleared out, or seeing that one old couple on your way to work that always asked you how your day was. Just the little things like that, that used to be annoying or sweet but were taken advantage of. 

“Have you ever flown in one of those?” Ellie asked her eyes never leaving the ruins. 

“Sure,” Joel answered, “a few times.” 

“So lucky.”

“It didn’t feel like it at the time,” Joel said, his eyes never leaving the plane either, “get shoved into a middle seat and pay 12 bucks for a sandwich.”

“What airline did you use? because that’s fucking criminal.” you asked, sure they put you in crappy middle seats  but  at least they didn’t overcharge you for a crappy sandwich. 

“Dudes,” Ellie said, you looked at her to see her no longer looking at the wreckage but at you and Joel, “you guys got to go up in the sky,”

You looked at the wreckage again, and much like your world it was broken and had casualties. You remember watching the planes dropping from the sky like fiery falling stars. But only they screamed, and burned as they crashed, killing in its wake. 

“So did they.” Joel said before continuing the walk, Ellie followed him soon after. You stayed there a moment, had you not canceled your flight that day you could’ve been among those people, amongst all those fiery inferno’s. It was a grim thought, it was even more grim to wonder if you would have been better off if you had. 

You took one last look of it as you caught up with the other two, something bothering you in the back of your mind. 

You walked further along, sometimes you would take the front and Joel would walk behind you with Ellie or he would walk ahead. Something bothered you about that crash, a mental note you made that seemed to elude you. 

“So everything came crashing down in one day?” 

“Pretty much.” 

“How?” Ellie asked, “I mean, no one was infected with the Cordyceps, everyone is fine, eating in restaurants and flying in planes, and then what? It just happened all at once? How did it even start?” There were a lot of rumors, but no one really knew for sure. “If you have to get bitten to be infected, then who bit the first person? A monkey, I’m willing to bet it was a monkey.” 

“It wasn’t a monkey,” Joel groaned, “I thought you went to school?”

“FEDRA school,” Ellie explained, “They didn’t teach us how their shitty government failed to prevent a pandemic.” You wouldn’t expect them to either, their educational system left things to be desired. There was a silence that fell, the start of the end wasn’t something you liked to talk about more than anyone else. It brought back memories that made your heart ache, it brought back your mother and how you never got the chance to tell her goodbye. 

“No one knows for sure,” Joel explained, “but the best guess was that the cordyceps mutated and some of it got into the food supply. Probably a basic ingredient like flour or sugar, there were certain types of food that were sold everywhere, all across the country and world. Bread, cereal…pancake mix.” Joel hesitated before listing the last item, something that you didn’t have the heart to ask about, knowing it was something he probably didn’t want to share. However, he had that look in his eye, the one full of grief and rage. The look he only got when he remembered Sarah, and what happened to her. “If you eat enough of it’ll get you infected. So all the tainted foods hit the store shelves around the same time thursday, people bought it, that very night people ate with that food or early Friday morning. Day goes on, people get sick, day goes on even further they get even more sick…and then they start biting…Friday night September 26, 2003 is the night the world went to shit and by Monday everything was gone.” 

You remembered why that crash bugged you so much and the note you mentally made as a landmark between here and where you were heading. Your eyes widened as you remembered what you were going to pass in just a few short miles. You turned to look at Joel, who seemingly remembered too as he put a hand in front of the small girl. 

There was a long, drawn out silence, one not even Ellie would dare break as she comprehended what she was told. You assumed in FEDRA School they mainly taught locations of things and how to kill. Not how all of this happened in the first place.

There was something bugging you, like a nat you couldn’t swat away. That mental note you made alluding to you until you see a tree with one lone arrow sticking from it. It had been yours when you still had a crossbow. 

“We’ll cut across the woods here,” Joel said, pointing to the other trail. He didn’t want Ellie to see it either, which didn’t surprise you. When both he and Tess took you the first time he tried to hide the horrors ahead from you as well. 

“Isn’t the road easier?” Ellie asked. She wasn’t wrong, the road was the easiest way, without all the branches and twists and turns. But what laid up the road was something you didn’t want her to see, it was something a girl her age shouldn’t ever have to see. 

“Yeah it’s just…” Even Joel was at a loss for words as to describe the scene ahead. “There’s stuff up there that you shouldn’t have to see.” 

“Well now I have to see.” 

“No,” You said firmly, looking at her, “no you don’t.” 

“We don’t want you too,’ Joel added. But in your limited amount of time with Ellie you knew that once she made up her mind there was no talking her out of it. So it didn’t surprise you when Ellie ignored you and continued along, this time she was in front of you. 

“Serious, Ellie” Joel said, his voice slightly raised, “there are some things you shouldn’t have to see.” 

“Can it hurt me?” Ellie asked. 

“No,”

“You’re too honest man!” Ellie said as she turned briefly to face your worried faces before returning to the road ahead of her, “should’ve said ax murderer.” you both looked at each other in defeat, knowing that it wasn’t going to be long until she came across what you were trying to protect her from.

Sure enough, you arrived at the makeshift burial ground. Only nothing was buried and the corpses of defenseless families laid where they fell at the hands of FEDRA soldiers years ago. When you first saw it you could feel your anger towards FEDRA rise. They were all people once, people who trusted FEDRA to keep them safe only for that trust to be repaid by a bullet in  their heads. You tried to not look at the rainbow wrapped baby in the decomposed arms of who you assumed was its mother. You look at the short brunette who went silent, her eyes taking in the sight in front of her. Bill told you about these people, how they had been his neighbors. You realized that FEDRA only drove them until the edge of town before executing them. 

You stood next to Ellie, who you were sure had a million questions after seeing this. 

Or maybe only one. 

“About a week after Outbreak day,” you started, “soldiers went through the countryside and evacuated small towns and told them they were going to a QZ…they were if there was room. If there wasn’t any then this happened.” 

“These people weren’t sick?” Ellie asked. 

“No,” you breathed, “most likely not.” 

“Why kill them?” Ellie's eyes narrowed the more she looked at the bodies, “why not just let them be?” 

“The dead can’t be infected.” You didn’t sugarcoat it, it wasn’t something you could even if you tried. You patted her arm to keep going, the longer you stayed here the longer you wished you could’ve beaten that FEDRA soldier instead of Joel. 

The rest of the way was silent for the most part, Ellie not really being in the mood to ask more questions or to make conversation and you couldn’t blame her. Instead of being worried you were thankful for the silence. Instead you tried to focus on something else other than what you saw back there. Your eyes instinctively went back to Joel, who was quiet, almost pensive. The Joel you grew up with could never have stayed silent for too long, but of course what did you know? You were more Tommy’s friend back then, or at least Tommy was closer in age than Joel was. It was mostly you and him sneaking into movie theaters to watch movies you weren’t allowed to see, or TP someone’s house during Halloween. When you both graduated school you went on to college while he went into the army, Tommy did always want to change the world. Naturally you grew apart, with your focus on your studies and the limited letters that came in, you both lost touch, only regaining it when you’re nearly 30, widowed, and the world was on fire.

Life was funny like that sometimes. 

It wasn’t long until you got to Bill and Franks, you were half expecting Bill to be on the other side of the gate already asking in his paranoid way who the girl with you was. However, Bill couldn’t move around like he used to and neither could Frank. So when you saw that they weren’t there it didn’t surprise you, when you arrived Joel pushed in the number code and the gate buzzed unlocked. You held open the door for Ellie and walked inside yourself. At first everything seemed alright, but as you approached the house your stomach dropped to your feet and you went cold. The flowers on the porch were dying, even after Frank could no longer move Bill always made sure that the flowers were watered so that Frank would have something beautiful to look at. A million thoughts ran through your mind, what if Bill had fallen? What if something worse happened?

You got your gun out, holding it in your hand steadily as you turned to Joel. 

“Something isn’t right.” You said, “the flowers were dying and Bill wasn’t there to meet us at the gate.” 

“I agree,” Joel said, “but it isn’t too out of place for Bill not to meet us there.” 

“Have you ever known Bill to take kindly to strangers he doesn’t know?”

“Good point.” Joel got his gun out as well as he went through the door first, leaving you second to enter. At first nothing seemed wrong, it was just silent. You figured if you were going to get attacked, it would’ve happened by now. 

“Try the bedroom,” You told Joel as you put your gun in your pocket, “I’ll see about the greenhouse.” Joel nodded as he made his way down the hallway, but before you made it to the back door you saw the accent table in the hallway. You thought for sure that you were seeing things until you wiped your finger across only to leave a mark. Dust. You’ve never known this house to get dusty, or cold, but damn was it cold in here. It was too cold for Frank, his condition tended to flare up in the cold it was almost downright torture for him. Panic started to fill you as you went into the dining room, once again there was dust, but also rotten food. 

“What the fuck.” Ellie says, astonished, though you could barely hear her over the light pounding in your ears. You looked at the food, dust, and dying flowers, all of it couldn’t have compiled more than maybe a couple of weeks at most. 

“I can’t get the door open,” Joel said coming into the dining room, “any luck in the greenhouse?” You didn’t say anything as your mind tried to comprehend what deep in your heart, you knew. 

They’re gone.

“Uhh,” You turned to Ellie who held an opened letter and a single key, “it’s addressed to you guys.” You looked at the envelope, 

To whomever, but probably Joel 

Bill’s handwriting. 

“It’s from Bill,” she said as you saw her eyes dart as she read the lines before looking up at you. “It came with this,” she handed him the key she was holding. 

“So they’re dead?” Joel asked, Ellie looked apologetic as she nodded. 

“You wanna read?” she asked, Joel looked at you but you shook your head, Joel then nodded for Ellie to read. 

“August 29th, 2023” Ellie began. 

“If you find this…please do not come into the bedroom. We left a window open so the house wouldn’t smell, but it will probably be a sight. I’m guessing you found this Joel, because anyone else would’ve been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps, hehehehehehe. Take anything you need, the bunker code is the same code for the gate but in reverse…Anyway, I never liked you, but still it’s like we’re friends…almost. And I respect you, So I’m gonna tell you something because you’re probably the only person who will understand. I used to hate the world and I was happy when everyone died…but I was wrong, because there was one person worth saving. That’s what I did, I saved him, and then I protected him. That’s why men like you and me are here, we have a job to do. 

And god help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. 

I leave you all of my weapons and equipment, use them to keep-” 

Ellie stopped suddenly, her eyes darting between you and Joel. You were about to ask what it said when Joel took it, reading it silently. 

“What does it say?” You ask, you could see a tense expression on his face as he ignored you. “Joel, what does it say?” he ignored you again, you were about to grab it when he moved it out of your reach. You could feel a tightening feeling in your chest as your eyes narrowed on him, “Joel, what does it say.”  he refused to look at you. You were about to ask and reach for it again when Ellie spoke up. 

“It said to keep Tess safe.” Ellie said, you turned to face her as Joel put the letter in his pocket. You felt your mouth go dry at her name and your heart break a little more as you understand what Bill said. He knew, and you were willing to bet Frank did as well. 

You were silent for a moment, turning away from Joel and Ellie as you gathered what strength you could. 

“Stay here.” 

You calmly walked out the door and to the side of the house, where they couldn’t see you and you let loose the tears that had been building up ever since you left Boston. You cried as you remembered how you failed to protect Tess and how it should’ve been you, you cried for Frank and Bill and you wished you could’ve done more for them. You let it all out, leaning against the house for support. You didn't cry like this, not since the outbreak. But every feeling you bottled until now seemed to overflow as you cried until your eyes were sore. 

When you came back Ellie was in the shower and you assumed Joel was checking out the supplies, so you decided to look around to see if there was anything else that you might need laying around. Hopefully they would both be busy enough that by the time they see you your eyes would be less tender and inflamed. You saw a box of clothes labeled ‘women’. They probably gathered this at the boutique so that you or Tess could go through it and get what you wanted. You were in need of some new clothes, the ones you were wearing were covered in grime and dirt. You searched and found a faded green henley, a new jacket, along with jeans, all new. You also found a few other changes of clothing that you would take with you along with some much needed underwear and bra. You were thankful that they thought of this, considering that this was only supposed to be an overnight job you didn’t pack accordingly in terms of clothes. You packed the other pair of jeans and shirt into your bag along with the two pairs of underwear and socks. They didn’t take up much room in your bag, which you were grateful for, and by the time you had gotten to the closet where he kept the toilet paper you heard Ellie come out of the shower. 

“Already snagged three rolls,” She said as she strolled past you, still drying her hair. “The shower is open if you want to get in. There should still be hot water left.” 

“Yeah,” you said quietly hoping your voice wouldn’t betray you, “I think I will, thanks.” You would try not to take too much time, out of all three of you Joel probably needed the shower the most. You would die for Joel, but dude needs all the hot water he could get. 

You grabbed your new pair of clothes and headed for the still steamy bathroom, you sighed as you already felt the tension that stored in your back release a little as you peeled your previous clothes off your body and hopped into the shower. 

As promised the shower didn’t last long, ten minutes at most. Enough to clean yourself and let the hot water relax your nerves. Even when you were going through school and the stress of multiple papers loomed over your head, you seemed to calm down when the water hit you. 

You brushed your teeth after and dried yourself, and after making sure that the floor was dry and that there was still hot water left for Joel you exited the bathroom, dressed in your henley and jeans. Part of you wanted to stay here. To bury Bill and Frank and live here away from the QZ, away from the enormous amounts of clickers and infected. But you couldn’t, there were too many memories here. And you wouldn’t disrespect Frank and Bill and move them, you just wouldn’t. Besides, the wiring on the fence was getting old, it probably had another few years before it would need to be replaced.

When you came back down you could see Ellie walking away from the desk. You didn’t think much of it until you walked by her and saw her jaw drop. 

“Wow!” Ellie exclaimed, “you don’t smell like a dead horse!” You roll your eyes. 

“Haha,” you laughed dryly, “thanks, and here” you said as you tossed her deodorant, she thanked you as she applied it. You were so busy chatting with Ellie that you didn’t notice Joel coming back in, or him looking at you for a moment longer than he knew he should’ve before going upstairs for his turn of the shower. 

By the time he was done you had made dinner  from what was still good in Bill’s fridge, which wasn’t much. All you could really make were a couple of sandwiches, you didn’t even notice him until Ellie did. 

“Well,” Ellie says, “don’t you look pretty! Don’t you think he’s pretty Doc?” 

You turned around to see him, his salted hair slicked back from the water, his skin clear of any grime or sweat, and a new set of clothes adorned him as well. The flannel suited him well, at least it didn’t have any holes in it. You think you saw Frank wear it once or twice, but he didn’t fill it out the way Joel did. But you figured that was for the better. You were so busy checking him out that you didn’t notice him doing the same thing, or the flush that was fighting its way to his face. 

“I’d say that,” you agreed, tearing your eyes away from him, “yeah.” 

“Shut up.” Joel gruffed, trying to hide his embarrassment by tossing another stick of deodorant towards Ellie who tossed it back to him. 

“I must stink if both of you handed me deodorant.” 

“No” 

“Yes.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him as he shrugged. 

“Let’s get going.” He said, “I already packed the truck up with supplies that we’ll need in order to make it to Tommy.” you nodded as you said one final goodbye to Frank and Bill, hoping that wherever they are, that they were as peaceful there as they were here. 

You took the backseat as Ellie and Joel sat up front, choosing to let Ellie’s first car ride be in shotgun. You smiled  as she pressed random things. 

“First time in a car?”

“It’s like a spaceship!” Joel looked tired as she continued to explore various things. 

“No it’s like a piece of shit Chevy S10,” Joel corrected, “but it’ll get us there…I think.” Joel looks over to her a second to see her not paying attention before sighing. “Seat Belts.” You see her look curiously at him as he reaches across her to grab said object and buckled her in. It may be invisible to everyone else, especially himself, but you could see his eyes soften just a tiny bit as he did. You wouldn’t say anything about it, but you knew Joel liked Ellie at least. He sees her as something to protect and that puts a smile on your face, knowing that Joel now has something else to protect. 

And in a way so do you. 

You left the garage and listened to the track that Ellie picked, watching the house fade in the distance knowing that while you’ll never be back there, at least the people there made the impossible possible. And made a home that was lived in and loved in this crazy, fucked up world. 

And life is full of loss

Who knows the cost?

Livin’ in a memory

Of a love that never was

Cause I’ve done everything I know. 

To try and change your mind

And I think I’m gonna love you

For a long, long time. 

TAGLIST

@burninggracesandbridges

[muddyorbsblr]

to save her pt2

Read Part 1 here See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @mygfloki

Summary: After being saved by his brother from a gruesome fate and offering his aid in fighting against Thanos and his army, Loki only asks for one thing in return – a chance to do the same for you.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: waiting for death vibes in the beginning; mentions about the wreckage that kills Reader in Part 1; derogatory use of the word "whore"

Things to be aware of: friends to lovers; probably not the best grasp of time travel

Chaos.

That was the only word that Loki could use to describe the state of the world he'd arrived in when he was extracted from the Asgardian prison cell he'd been locked in for who knew how many moons, by Thor of all the people. Only he didn't look like Thor. Not entirely. 

And before he could ask what in the Nine was happening and why he had a new battle axe that resembled the plans that Odin once had for a weapon more powerful than Gungnir, he'd been transported to Midgard, surrounded by faces old and new. They were ready to fight; he, however, was not. In truth he intended to waste away his days in that cell, waiting for his extended lifespan to dwindle down to nothing so that perhaps he could finally be reunited with you. His soul could depart from this plane and move on to the next and you would be there waiting for him.

Instead he was now surrounded by soldiers of the Chitauri, outnumbered and ill-prepared to wield the magic that would have been able to decimate them if he so wished. Instead now his death would be more gruesome than he'd hoped. 

"Brother!" he shouted out, hoping that Thor could hear him from his communication device. "I need an assist!" 

"I can only get you away from them. Hang on!" He heard the sound of the god of thunder's battle axe whoosh-ing through the air and he held his hand up, waiting to be caught in its path and be flown away from the squadron that had piled on him. 

Only the flight never came. Instead the axe remained snugly in his hand, electricity crackling all over his body and sending the Chitauri soldiers flying off of him in a surge of a mixture of both his power and Thor's. All he could do was stare blankly at the axe in his hand, chest heaving as he breathlessly wondered, "What in the Nine?"

"I knew it!" he heard his brother exclaim through the comms. "Brother, you have an opening now. While they have him held down. Remember. Go for the head." 

He looked over to see the near celestial being, Danvers, as well as the Captain and Strange holding down the mad titan with their combined strength and powers, each one of them already straining as they did so. "Your window's closing, Laufeyson! If you're gonna do something, do it now!" Rogers screamed into his ear.

"You may as well surrender now," the titan sneered, a strained chuckle escaping him. "That one's so incompetent he couldn't even save his human whore from incoming traffic." 

That set off something so wildly bloodthirsty in the god that had him charging for Thanos, flying through the air and swinging Thor's battle axe in the direction of the megalomaniac's head. His fallen head hit the ground at the same time as  Loki landed on his feet. "You do not speak of her," he uttered darkly, staring into the blank eyes that went wide with shock in the titan's last moments. 

The three Avengers who had held Thanos down let his body go and flop down to the ground, watching as the soldiers and creatures who remained on the battlefield looked at their fallen leader, one by one, and then fleet by fleet, retreating back into their ships and heading up toward the sky. "Hold on, they're running away. What's going on?" Stark's voice came through on the communications.

"We won," Rogers stated, holding out a hand towards the god of mischief. "Thank you. Good to have you on our side." 

Loki wordlessly took his hand, nodding in both acknowledgement and assent, all the while wondering about what would happen next. There were talks throughout the battle about having to put back everything that was borrowed from the past to where they were found. 

The Infinity Stones. Mjolnir. Him. 

He wouldn't get to stay here. And judging from the words his brother had told him before he was whisked off to Midgard and away from his prison cell, he really would have preferred that he be allowed to remain here, in this timeline, instead.

"I'm not returning him to Asgard," Thor grumbled in protest against Banner's instructions. "I have seen what becomes of his life. I saw an opportunity to save him from what I know would befall him, and I took it. Now you are to tell me that I have to take that back? I refuse to." 

"Banner, I don't think you understand," Strange explained. "The Ancient One only said that you have to return the stonesto where you found them, in order for them to still serve their purpose for their predestined timelines. We have to return Mjolnir because of the purpose it still serves down the line, but I can tell you right now that any individuals borrowed from timelines don't follow that same rule. Thor doesn't need to return his brother; I don't see any consequences for any of us if we were to let him try and live out a life here in 2023 with the rest of us." 

"Truly?" The way the sorcerer vouched for him had taken Loki aback. "Just like that? You would allow me to co-exist with the rest of you? Even after everything--"

"From what Strange over here told me, Rock of Ages, what you did wasn't even supposed to happen. His 'one in fourteen million' outcome where we win did had nothing to do with you cutting off Ballsack Barney's head off. It involved me dying. You gave us all a future where my daughter doesn't lose her father. My wife won't lose her husband. Never thought I'd see the day where I'd say this, but I owe you. There's no way we're gonna send you off back to your timeline just to die," Stark answered him. "Just don't ask for a throne, I don't think we can spring that." 

His answer for what he wanted came almost instantly. "All I ask is for a pair of those cartridges that you used to travel through time." 

"Brother," Thor began with a touch of caution. "What do you intend them for?" 

A melancholia settled over him as he smiled. "You told me back in Asgard that if you could save me from what you knew would happen to me, you'd do it in a heartbeat. And you have. I only wish to attempt to do the same." 

An elated smile stretched over the blond god's face. "Your Midgardian. From decades ago?" 

Loki could only nod. "I wish to try saving Y/N." 

It took a few weeks to rebuild the quantum tunnel that had been destroyed when Thanos' ship attacked the compound, but once it did, Rogers had been the first to go in order to return the stones as well as Mjolnir to their respective timelines. 

He didn't return. Instead his fellow super soldier Barnes as well as his fellow veteran Wilson had a conversation with a decades older version of Rogers who had showed up on a bench not far from where the former Rogers had just departed a few mere moments ago. He could sense the bitterness setting into his newfound teammates as they pushed forward with the agenda for the day. 

"Brother," Thor spoke up, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I am aware that it is an option and that perhaps the idea is playing in your mind now. To remain in 1993 with Lady Y/N and live out your life there with her. I surely cannot stop you if that is what you wish--"

"It isn't," he cut his brother off. "I simply wished to save her. I will not leave you again. If anything I would be bringing her back here. Perhaps you could finally meet each other." 

"Alright then," Banner spoke up, tinkering with the tunnel once more. "Loki, it's your turn. Best of luck with saving your girl." 

He nodded wordlessly as he stepped onto the platform, pressing a button on the device around his wrist to adorn himself with the rather gaudy red and white protective gear similar to what his brother had worn upon retrieving him from Asgard just a little over a fortnight ago. 

Banner counted down and once he'd gone to zero, the god was flying through a myriad of vivid colors before he found himself standing in an alleyway just a few steps from the scene that had haunted him for twenty years. The scene of your death. Crushed by a semi-truck with a man behind the wheel too inebriated for his own good. 

The man had lost control of his vehicle, rendered too weak to maneuver safely out of the way, and in the path of his destruction stood you, speaking with the god and planning out the day  you should have been spending together had this inferior mortal man not cut your already fleeting time in these realms shorter. Loki had not even been able to see any semblance of you in the wreckage when he arrived to the scene decades prior, in feeble hopes that perhaps he could bring you to Asgard and perhaps nurse you back to health.

Your fragile mortal form was too broken for repair. Shattered. As was his heart.

But perhaps this was his chance to right this injustice bestowed upon you both by the fates. Perhaps  if his brother could give him a second chance at a life worth living, then he could do the same for you.

He was brought out of his reverie by the sound of a mobile device ringing, signaling to him that perhaps it was already time to start moving. He followed the sound of the ringing, his heart lodging itself in his throat upon hearing your melodic voice once more.

"Hello?" you spoke into the phone. "Loki? Is that you?" 

He remembered this conversation vividly. Your last words with him. Your last words ever. The god walked closer to you, the ache in his heart growing as he caught sight of the brilliant smile on your face as you heard his words from the other end of your conversation. 

"Not at all. I'll call in sick for work today and you'll call me when you get here?" Your smile grew ever brighter as you heard his answer, and he could see the approaching vehicle beginning to skid on the road as its driver began to lose control over the metal beast. There was no more time to waste. 

He strode over to you and you finally looked up and caught sight of the fast approaching god. "Loki?" Before he could second guess his decision, he put a device near identical to the one he wore around your wrist and pressed a button, wrapping you in the same red and white suit. And then he pulled you into his arms and pressed another button on his device, pulling you both into the absurdly prismatic tunnel. 

You held on to Loki for dear life as you traveled through the flashing colors, refusing to let go until you felt that your feet had finally hit solid ground. And once you did all the god wished for was an excuse to hold you again. 

You backed away from him, taking in your new surroundings, eyes wide with a mixture of wonder and shock as you realized that you were most definitely no longer in the streets of New York. He kept himself poised to catch you if you were to step off of the platform as you met the eyes of Barnes, Wilson, Stark, and Strange. Maximoff was by the door of the compound, ready with a change of clothes, undoubtedly having foreseen what the god would decide before he even landed in your year.

"Where am I?" you breathed out, your voice trembling as you locked eyes with the god. "Loki where did you take me?" 

"You're still in New York, Miss Y/L/N. As for the when…that's a little more complicated," Banner spoke up, making your eyes go wide at the sight of the giant green Hulk meters away from you and walking over back to Loki, clutching on to his arm. "I'm sorry. I would greet you as my human form if I could still manage it. My name's Doctor Bruce Banner. You're in the year 2023." 

The air left your lungs at the revelation. "Wait what--what do you mean--" you stammered. "I can't be in 2023, what would that do to the me in here? I'd be fifty--"

"Darling," Loki cut you off. "That moment from 1993 that we just left was moments before you were destined to die." Tears began to flood your eyes at his admission. 

"But we were supposed to--"

"I know, dear Y/N. I know. I heard everything. I still remember every sound from our last conversation twenty years ago." 

"Wait. Twenty? But I thought--"

"Erm…perhaps I could explain, Lady Y/N," Thor spoke up, walking toward the platform with his hand outstretched toward you. "My name is Thor. I'm Loki's brother. See, here from when I'm from, you've been gone for three decades. But I retrieved the Loki that stands by your side today from 2013, a decade ago. So to him, he'd been mourning you for two decades. It will take much more explaining for you to fully grasp the context, but what is important now is that you are here and you are safe." 

It took a few hours of exhaustive explanation from both Loki and his brother Thor to get you caught up on what you'd missed over the last three decades, after getting yourself cleaned up and getting a clean change of clothes with the help of a woman named Wanda. 

She helped to get you caught up with the state of the world in general, having you a semblance of relieved that at least now it wasn't as rampant within workplaces that women were disregarded and disrespected. That assuming you could find your footing in this new world you were in, you could at least expect to be treated better than you were in the job that you held yesterday…well, three decades ago.

This was gonna take some getting used to. A lot of getting used to.

One of the more authoritative figures in their team, Tony Stark, had offered to provide you the materials you'd need to start catching up on the technological advancements of the last thirty years. It was obvious that he was made of money; he was a Stark after all, and seemed to skyrocket the company after taking over from his father. It was also obvious that he seemed to genuinely want to help you, even providing you a top of the line machine to practice whatever you learned from the study material he'd given you.

Wanda as well as a younger member of the team who couldn't possibly even be out of high school yet named Peter had taught you how to navigate the internet, search for terms that you didn't understand. Sam taught you how to avoid the viruses and the porn sites. Banner kept a watchful eye on your progress, reporting back to Stark whenever the billionaire found some time from settling into his new life as a full time father to his little girl Morgan.

And apparently the man was a whiz at finding time because he'd also swung for shiny new credentials and documentation so that your acclimation would go by even smoother by making your old documentations disappear and integrating you into the world as Y/N Y/L/N, born in 1998, rather than died in 1993. With how invisible you truly were back then, it was quite a manageable feat to make it seem as if you hadn't even really existed before. 

Before you knew it, six months had passed, you caught up with the most recent advancements of the programming language you'd specialized in and certified yourself twice over, and found yourself taking on more complex and intricate technologies as you accepted a position in Stark's Research and Development department, staying under the tutelage of Dr Banner.

And then, throughout this entire process of integrating yourself into this new world, there was Loki. The god that not only saved your life, but in the process also gave you a chance at a better one. He, too, was acclimating to his new reality but somehow he'd made it a point to be there as your rock throughout your journey. Where the rest of the team supported you through the big strides, he'd been there for the day to day, making sure you weren't overloading yourself with all the new information,  keeping you company throughout your breaks and the weekends, quickly filling the role of best friend that you were severely lacking in both your new life, and in your old. 

Only thing was in the span of those six months you found yourself falling in love with him. Hell, you were already falling fast back in the 90s after your first encounter with him.

You once swore to yourself you'd never give anyone the power to exploit and abuse you, that you would never love anyone unconditionally. And yet here you were more than ready to rip your heart out of your own chest and hand it over to Loki, fully trusting that he would never do anything that could break it. 

Stupid Y/N, you hissed at yourself. Why sign yourself up to get hurt like this? He won't love you back. Why would he? He's a literal god and he's got women falling at his feet over how devastatingly beautiful he is, his bedroom door's probably revolving. He probably saved you because he felt guilty that he was the last person you were talking to before you died, but know this. He. Doesn't. Love you.

Of course he didn't. He couldn't. 

And yet despite that you were still more than willing to hand the god your heart on a golden platter. Like a total nimrod. 

Today had been one of the rare days where he'd found himself swamped with his duties as an Avenger that you two weren't able to meet for lunch, and truly you were secretly grateful that that was the case. It meant it gave you some time to rationalize yourself out of falling for the raven-haired god. 

"No Horns today?" You looked up to find your coworker Sophie standing by your desk, a friendly smile on her face. You shook your head slightly in response, making her click her tongue. "Guess it comes with dating an Avenger, huh, Y/N?"

"Whoa wait. What?" you chuckled at her comment. "Dating? Sophie I'm not—"

"Shame too 'cause I was thinking of setting you up with that guy Brandon from IT? He likes you, you know. But I figured if I even tried that Loki would have my head so I never did." She gave a nervous sounding laugh toward the end, her words drowning you in even more confusion. 

The rest of the day went on without much eventfulness; you grabbed lunch with some ladies from the department, bumped into Wanda who gave you quite the peculiar apology about 'too many meetings keeping Loki away from you today', ran into Peter who gave you a similar apology, and then you spent the rest of your day tinkering away at Stark's latest project from his mega list of ideas. 

When you finally wrapped up your work for the day and made your way to your apartment within the tower, you were slightly taken aback to hear soft music coming from inside. A few months back you'd given Loki a key because you'd been reviewing for your certifications and he was making sure you hadn't forgotten to eat. You never really thought about asking for it back; of course you wouldn't, you loved him. 

Unconditionally, you sighed to yourself, lamenting in your idiocy for breaking your own rule. You didn’t even bother fighting the smile that stretched across your face when you opened the door and found the god sitting on the armchair in your living room, stealing every bit of air from your lungs as he looked at you with those expressive eyes and that smile that made you feel as if perhaps you were the only one he ever looked at like that. 

"What's all this?" you breathed out as you noted that along with the soft music floating throughout your apartment, candles were lit throughout your living room, kitchen, and dining area, and there was an arrangement of red carnations, red ranunculuses, and sunflowers at the center of your dining table. You'd casually learned the language behind flowers before you jumped three decades into the future, so the knowledge might be a tad outdated, but you knew the broad strokes.

Passion. Deep love. Adoration. Happiness. 

Is it possible? you thought in astonishment. Does he love me, too?

"I was indisposed earlier during your lunch hour, and so I'd thought that perhaps we could dine together after you'd concluded your duties for the day?" He'd stood up from the couch, walking toward you with the grace and focus that you would liken to a wolf approaching an arctic fox. Unjustifiably beautiful and on a single-minded path to devastate its prey.

In your case he most likely didn't even know it. That with every step he was dangerously ever closer to crushing your heart with one wrong move. Or just a few simple words strung together. 

"That's…really sweet of you," you murmured, a lump lodging itself in your throat as he stood not two feet from you, one of his hands reaching out to hold one of yours, hooking his fingers around yours. "Though you don't usually do all this just--"

Your words were silenced as he cupped your face with his free hand and laid his lips on yours, sending your heart soaring as you placed your hand on his shoulder to brace yourself, standing on the tips of your toes to return his kiss. 

"I'm afraid I seem to have defied one of your cardinal rules, darling," he uttered against your lips, wrapping his arm around you and lifting your feet off the ground as he walked you both further into your apartment, stopping only when your back was flush against the wall, all the while his lips never left yours. As if he was afraid that if he stopped the opportunity would never present itself again. 

"My rules?" you questioned breathlessly once he pulled away and proceeded to lightly press his lips to your cheek, your temples, and all across your face. 

"I'm not simply here so that we could share a meal, dear Y/N." He placed one more kiss to your lips before he leaned away to look into your eyes, framing your face with his hands as his thumbs stroked across your cheeks. "I've come here to present you with my heart. I've fallen in love with you, precious little mortal. Unconditionally." Your vision blurred as tears flooded your eyes, your heart beating so hard that you could feel your pulse in the shells of your ears as he wiped away the tears that had fallen. "I will gladly give you all of me. Hand over the power to exploit and abuse my love, test the limits, shatter me completely if you wish. Because I've made the decision to trust that you will not." 

"What if I mess up?" you choked through your tears. "I don't wanna hurt you." 

"I've lived through the immeasurable anguish of losing you once; there is nothing that you can do to me that could surpass that, I assure you." He tucked his fingers under your chin, gently tilting your face up to look at him. "You wish to say something. I can see it in your eyes. Whatever it is, my love, you can tell me." 

You finally set the words loose. "I love you, too. And I'm pretty sure I broke my own rules because it's unconditional, too." Your heart began to flutter in your chest at the sight of the brilliant smile stretching across his face. "I'm yours, Loki. I'm all yours." With a sheepish smile, you finished softly, "So…please don't hurt me?" 

"Never," he breathed out, tears shining in his own eyes now as you reached up, softly touching your fingertips to the sharp angles of his face and giving him an opening to turn his head and press a kiss to your palm. "You never need worry, my love." 

That night you gave yourself to him. The god that owned your heart. The one who saved your life long before he saved you from death. 

A/N: Aaaaa I'm so glad I get to give these two a happy ending especially after how I ended off Part 1 🥺 Thank you so much, Celest, for entrusting the idea of this story to me, I hope nagustuhan mo sya, bhie 💖✌️

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