#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

[meazalykov]

mystery

barcelona femeni x lena oberdorf x reader

the team finds out about your potential relationship at the same time as everyone else

the chill of december bites at your skin as you step off the plane, a light fog of condensation forming with each exhale. 

cairo airport is filled with activity, a stark contrast to the quiet ache in your chest from leaving barcelona behind for the break. everyone else scattered to their families..alexia to her parents, mapi to her sisters.. ingrid tagging along with mapi.

however, you made a different choice. you texted lena as soon as the winter schedule was released, your fingers shaking with equal parts nerves and excitement as you hit send. her response had been almost immediate: 

yes, come to me.

the cab ride to the german resort in egypt feels longer than it is, the traffic weaving around you in a rhythm you can’t quite predict. your mind drifts to her…how her voice sounded over the phone just the night before, soft and inviting despite her latest recovery session. 

you remember the way she laughed when you told her you’d packed her favorite chocolate from spain, calling you “extra” with a playful tease. 

when you finally step into the lobby, obi is already waiting with lea. she stands near the entrance, her dark shirt hanging loosely on her body, her hair tied back in a simple ponytail. 

obi’s eyes light up the second they meet yours, a warmth there that makes the entire journey feel worth it. she doesn’t move right away..her lips curl into that familiar smile, the one that always tugs at something deep inside your chest, and then she steps forward. 

“you’re here,” she says, as if she needs to convince herself this isn’t just another late-night call or grainy video chat. 

“i’m here,” you echo, your voice quieter, carrying all the weight of missing her and finally seeing her again. 

she pulls you into her arms before you can say anything else, her grip firm but tender, as though she’s afraid you might disappear if she holds too tightly. the scent of her shampoo..something citrusy and sharp..mixes with the faint chill on her skin, and you close your eyes, melting into the familiarity of her embrace. 

obi’s hands trace soothing lines along your lower back, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades. it’s just you and her, breathing each other in.

“you must be exhausted,” she says when she pulls back slightly, her hands still resting on your shoulders. obi’s eyes scan your face like she’s memorizing every detail all over again. 

“i’ve had worse travel days,” you joke, but lena shakes her head, her lips quirking in mild disapproval. 

“you never let me take care of you,” she mutters, almost to herself, before lacing her fingers with yours and tugging you toward the elevator. 

“no hey for me?” lea jokes. 

“how could i forget about my favorite person here!” you laugh, pulling lea into a tight hug.

“hey!” lena says which gets a good laugh out of lea and you.

the ride up to obi’s room is quiet, save for the faint hum of holiday music filtering through the speakers. lena leans against the wall, her thumb absently brushing over your knuckles. 

you don’t say much..it’s a comfortable silence, the kind that comes with knowing someone so intimately that words aren’t always necessary. 

once inside the room, lena drops her small bag near the small table and immediately turns to you. she’s always been like this…direct, unguarded when it’s just the two of you. she steps closer, her hands finding your cheeks, her thumbs brushing lightly over your skin. 

“you’re really here,” she whispers, and this time it sounds more like a confession, a quiet marvel at the reality of it. 

“of course i am,” you reply, your voice steady even though your heart is racing under her gaze. 

“you think i’d spend with anyone else?” 

obi’s smile softens, and she presses a kiss to your forehead before resting her own against it. 

“you have no idea how much i’ve missed you.”

you think you do. you’ve felt it in every passing day since the last time she came to barcelona to see you, when you had to say goodbye in the quiet of your apartment, neither of you wanting to let go. you feel it now, in the way her hands linger on you like she’s trying to make up for lost time. 

“probably as much as i’ve missed you,” you say, and it earns you that laugh…the low, melodic one that makes your chest feel impossibly full. 

“impossible,” she teases, before finally pulling away just enough to guide you to the bed. 

you lay down cuddling with her for a brief moment before you have to go outside for more activities. the both of you talk lightly, just discussing things that maybe you guys didn’t on the phone. 

she mentions lea and kathi’s terrible jokes during her recovery sessions. there’s a tenderness in her voice whenever she talks about her friends, and you’re grateful her friends has been there for her during the times you couldn’t be since you played in barcelona. 

after a night out, where lena djs with her friends while you just sit with lea by the bars in support.. you feel the exhaustion from the trip begin to creep in, but lena seems to notice before you can say anything. 

she nudges you gently, her arm wrapping around your shoulders as she takes you back to your shared hotel room. 

“sleep,” she murmurs, her voice low and soothing. 

“i will still be here, i am just going to the bathroom to get unready.” 

maybe five minutes later.. you feel yourself getting pulled into her arms, in this secret little world you’ve built together in egypt while the time lasts. 

throughout the next week in egypt felt like a dream. the kind of dream you never wanted to wake up from or escape. you and lena spent days exploring, stealing moments for yourselves, surrounded by her closest friends. 

the most thrilling part of it all? riding dune buggies across the sprawling sands. the powerful machines roared as you navigated the uneven terrain, the wind whipping against your face as lena rode beside you, grinning like a kid who just found her favorite candy.

somewhere in the golden expanse of the desert, lea insisted on capturing photos of everyone. lena was her usual reluctant self, but you? you were feeling the sun on your skin, the freedom in the air. 

when lea aimed the camera your way, she didn’t even have to ask you to stand still when you started walking so you had your own individual pictures. 

the timing of the pictures couldn’t have been more perfect..your hair moved gently in the breeze, and the sunlight painted your skin with a radiant glow, setting you apart from the vast golden orange backdrop of sand. 

“oh wow this one’s stunning,” lea grinned, showing the screen to lena first. obi’s eyes lingered on the image a moment longer than necessary, a small, almost imperceptible smile pulling at her lips before she nodded.

“you’re posting that, right?” lena asked, her tone teasing but edged with sincerity. 

you did. how could you not? it was the kind of picture that didn’t come around often. within minutes, your feed was getting notifications. 

what you didn’t expect was for some eagle eyed fans to piece together that lena and lea had posted stories from the exact same desert in the same hour. while neither of them appeared in your photo, the connection was made…three high-profile football players in the same place, at the same time?

the internet was quick to notice. 

still, everything was manageable. until lena, in true lena fashion, decided to break the silence. obi’s comment on your post was simple, direct: 

hot

that one word sent shockwaves through your notifications. 

suddenly, the noise grew louder. fans were scrambling for answers, dissecting every post and interaction…or lack thereof. you and lena had never made a habit of commenting on each other’s photos, not publicly, at least. 

sure, you liked her posts, and she liked yours, but it was subtle. this? this was anything but subtle. you were not mad at lena, in fact, you kind of enjoyed that people were starting to know about this.

the first text came late that night. your phone buzzed on the nightstand as you lay beside lena, who was lazily scrolling through her own notifications. 

ingrid. 

ingrid: what are you doing in egypt with obi? 

ingrid: nothing wrong! i didn’t think that you guys even knew of each other

you stared at the screen for a moment, debating your response. lena noticed, leaning over to catch a glimpse of her old wolfsburg teammate texting you. 

“are you going to answer her?” she asked, her voice calm but curious. 

“not yet,” you murmured, locking the phone and setting it back down. lena chuckled, pressing a kiss to your lips before tossing your phone to the side.

the texts didn’t stop there. by morning, your phone was flooded…alexia, salma, frido, ewa. all of them had the same question: 

alexia: what's going on? 

ewa: i see you guys 😏😏 

salma: so what are you doing in egypttt!??? 😏😏🤨

fridolina: since when did you and obi start dating? 

later, lena posted her slideshow on instagram. a collection of moments from the trip since its your last day here: the sunset over the desert, the group at dinner, her in the pool. 

however, it was the last photo that threw everything into chaos. the picture was taken by the dj booth, all of you in one frame. lea stood between phil and fridolin, and lena stood on fridolin’s other side. 

there you were, at the end, lena’s arm draped comfortably around your shoulders, your head leaning against hers. 

the comments exploded. 

HELLO???

wait… are they together?! 

obi and y/n?? since when?? 

HOW DID WE NOT SEE THIS COMING?!

THE HARD LAUNCH OKAYYY

lena smirked at the influx of attention, but you could feel the tension brewing in your phone as it buzzed relentlessly on the table. by now, the barcelona group chat was probably in flames. 

you could picture alexia starting her own mini investigation, salma and frido laughing at the absurdity, and ewa typing out a flurry of messages just to be nosey about her old teammate and new teammate being together. 

“they’re not going to let this go, you know,” lena said, her tone light as she scrolled through her own growing list of missed calls and texts from her bayern teammates like kathi, tuva, and georgia. 

“i know,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. 

“but we’ll figure it out when we get back. you to munich, me to barcelona.”

lena smiled, pulling you closer. 

“as long as i have my beautiful sexy girlfriend, then i am okay.” 

you giggled. 

back in barcelona, a week after you and obi left egypt.. the locker room is quiet as you push the door open, though the quiet feels almost… staged. 

your footsteps echo slightly as you step in, and the moment you glance up, you realize why. every single one of your teammates is staring at you, arms crossed, smirks plastered across their faces like they’ve been waiting for this exact moment.

“so,” vicky starts, leaning against her locker with the kind of casual confidence that spells trouble. 

“how was egypt with your new girlfriend?”

you roll your eyes, already regretting every decision that led to this. 

“good morning to you too,” you mutter, heading straight for your locker, hoping and praying that they’ll let it slide. 

they won’t.

salma snickers as she moves to sit beside your locker, her grin way too wide. 

“you’re not even going to deny it, are you?”

“what’s there to deny?” you sigh, pulling off your hoodie and grabbing your training shirt. your hands move a little quicker than usual, like if you’re dressed fast enough, they might lose interest. 

they don’t.

“what’s there to deny?” ewa repeats, feigning shock. 

“you’ve been secretly dating obi, and you think we’re just going to let that slide without asking questions?”

you groan internally but keep your face calm, pulling your shirt over your head and starting on your socks. 

“it’s not a secret anymore, is it?” you reply, your tone steady, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrays you.

“how long?” ewa presses, leaning forward. 

“and don’t even think about lying.”

you glance up at her, then at the rest of the team, who are all waiting, some sitting on the benches, others leaning against lockers, every single one of them focused on you.

 alexia, standing near the door, raises an eyebrow as if to say, you might as well tell them.

“four months,” you say finally, your voice even. 

the reaction is instant. gasps, laughter, and a mix of disbelief ripple through the room.

“four months?” frido exclaims. 

“and you didn’t tell anyone? not even us?”

“i told esmee,” you admit, earning a collective groan from the group.

esmee turns her head away from the team, hoping to not become the center of the teasing since she didn’t spill your secret. 

salma throws her hands up dramatically. 

“esmee doesn’t count. she’s your best friend here.”

you shake your head, tying your laces as you prepare for the next wave of teasing. 

“obi and i wanted to keep it private for a while,” you explain, keeping your voice calm despite the heat rising to your cheeks. 

“it’s long-distance. clearly since she plays at bayern. we wanted to make sure it worked before people started asking questions or… making assumptions.”

that quiets them for a moment, and alexia nods slightly, her expression softening. 

“that makes sense,” she says, her tone understanding. 

“it’s a lot of pressure, especially with both of you playing in different places.”

you give her a small, grateful smile before aitana pipes up. 

“but you’re terrible at keeping secrets, you know that, right?” 

the whole room erupts in laughter, and even you can’t help but join in. 

“apparently,” you admit, grabbing your water bottle and heading toward the door. 

“hey, for what it’s worth,” vicky calls out as you reach the exit, 

“you make a cute couple. but don’t think this means we’re done teasing you.” 

you roll your eyes but grin despite yourself. 

“i wouldn’t expect anything less.” 

masterlist

[strawberrystepmom]

bakugou x f!reader. part 1 of a mini series called by heart. cw: mentions of alcohol, implied sexual content, weddings. | word count: 1.7k, reading time: ~10 minutes

For Katsuki Bakugou, the act of participating as a groomsman is as much fulfilling his duty as donning his suit and gauntlets to patrol the streets of Musutafu is. It’s natural and reflexive, he can handle the stress with little effort. Always responsible and on time, he has been asked several times despite his attitude because of his impeccable ability to keep things moving if they’re breaking down.

That being said, his designation as Best Man instead of a simple groomsman as a member of the Midoriya grooms party has been a different animal entirely.

The changes in his nice and comfy usual role started with requesting he arrive a day earlier than the other guests or party members, throwing off his schedule even if he knew about it ahead of time. Everything in his life is scheduled, planned, and measured including how many days he needs to request off to meet his own internal rules. Ideally this is no days off yet somehow this task has required an extra day compared to what he usually days.

Then he was told about the other duties - welcoming the families of Mr. and soon to be Mrs. Midoriya alike as they arrive at the hotel, ring keeping, disciplining, and the thing he’s looking forward to the least.

“Walking the maid of honor during the procession. And also if you’re feeling really generous and want to make sure your good friend has a great wedding, keeping her in line.”

Deku didn't have to say your name for him to know you were the one to whom he was referring.

“Is it really her?” Bakugou asked, unable to temper his annoyance though his lifelong friend would’ve picked up on it regardless.

“Who else would it be? They’re best friends, it would be like me being told that you couldn’t be my best man.”

This makes six out of six weddings the two of you have been paired up. Iida, Kirishima, Ashido, Todoroki, Yaoyorozu, and now Midoriya. It’s not a coincidence the two of you received your respective promotions for this event given your relationships to the bride and groom it just feels strange.

It’s not that he hates you or even dislikes you, it’s that things are just…kind of complicated. Nothing he feels for you is anything close to hatred. It’s what confuses him so badly about it because he should. You’re loud and messy and incredibly nosy and demand everyone’s attention when you walk into the room and your laugh is contagious and really you’re just an absolute pain in his ass he was hoping to be free of for one measly matrimonial weekend.

Since that day he’s been dreading what’s next to come despite how happy he is that his best friend has finally convinced the brilliant, compassionate stunner who puts up with him to do it forever. It felt and continues to feel like a huge dick move for him to say anything about so he’s kept his mouth shut.

Time passed in a flash and now that the day has finally come, arriving at the hotel hours later than originally anticipated hasn’t helped with the nerves that he swears he isn’t feeling.

Thankfully no additional issues popped up while getting off of the plane. Traffic on the way here was light. The cab driver had no desire to make small talk with him. Check-in was already completed before the glass doors could automatically part and welcome him into a gleaming lobby and onto a clean elevator that rides alone and that drops him directly on the 33rd floor.

It’s here that he breathes a sigh of relief. Nothing is unsalvageable today even if it got off to a rocky start. Things are going to be alright.

At least until he hears that sound.

Your laugh.

It permeates every single corner of the long marble hallway separating hotel suites and smaller single rooms alike. It echoes and bounces and shifts the world on its axis every time he hears it. Katsuki swallows through the tilt, clenching his fist around the carrying handle of the rolling suitcase it holds. His feet hurry toward room 3304. You offer a little goodbye to whoever you were talking to, footsteps thumping against the carpeted floor below them as you continue toward what assumes is his end of the hallway.

“God damn it,” he mutters under his breath, reaching into his pocket to dig for the keycard he was handed at the front as soon as he arrives at his destination. Perhaps if he’s really lucky he can make it inside before you catch sight of him, before you say his name and demand his time and fuck his night up before it even begins.

This evening’s plans are as follows: taking a long and thorough shower after spending nearly half a day on an airplane, nap for no longer than 30 minutes to recharge in preparation for the first celebratory dinner of what will be multiple over the next four days, and return to his hotel room before midnight and very much alone ready to sleep until his alarm goes off tomorrow morning so he can go for a run with Izuku before everyone communes again for brunch.

The less deviation there is from this plan, the better it is for everyone involved. It seems like everyone involved with this wedding and the others that have come before it has managed to finally accept this aspect of Bakugou’s personality besides you. His digging search becomes frantic the closer he hears your footsteps come and just when he thinks he can make it without being seen, you wordlessly slide up to Room 3302. Right next to him.

“Hiya neighbor.”

Actually, nothing from this day is worth saving. If the flight delay didn’t do him in, sharing a wall with you certainly will before the weekend is over.

“Uh hey,” he mutters back stiffly.

It’s still a strange comfort that while all of his and your friends get married off and start their families and build their lives that it will always be you and him starring as the lone wolves who are bound to be paired up in every wedding party for all eternity. While he’s never really been sure if it’s simply because you’re both single or if there is other meddling it’s something he has come to expect all the same. Even if the two of you have a pair of axes to grind.

Sighing, he slips his card into the lock and the light turns green. Turning to look at you he finds you already doing the same with a smile he should probably feel more irritation toward seeing on your face. Garnet colored eyes slip from your smile down to your hand and where it inserts the key into the door, repeating the steps he just completed. No ring, no indication that you have anyone waiting for you back at home.

The knowledge that you are likely still potentially single brings a sense of peace to the man, a feeling one could even call relief if they were feeling brave enough to confront their emotions to begin with.

“Don’t make me regret sharing this wall with you,” he finally says after an extremely loaded period of silence.

You giggle, mirthful and light and he wishes the ground would stop shifting, his hand now clutching the doorknob tightly while the edge of the keycard digs into his palm.

“What makes you say that?” A pout crosses your clever mouth, side leaning against the door to your room. “Do you regret other things you’ve shared with me?”

This is exactly why he was hoping not to see you. Dropping the knob, his hand finds its way to his face and he scrubs his palm down the length of it with a groan.

The souring that led to whatever rotten interaction is happening in this hallway right now began over Yaoyorozu’s wedding weekend last summer.

That sounds very dramatic. However, in both you and Katsuki’s defense, this situation is pretty dramatic. Two attractive, single people and endlessly flowing alcohol sharing a kiss that turned into more kissing which turned into carpet burns on your knees that you couldn’t get rid of for a month after the event occurred wouldn’t usually create this much issue especially after taking into consideration that you are both fully grown adults well into your lives.

The drama arrives at the party when you are reminded that you’ve known in your heart for as long as you’ve known him, Katsuki Bakugou isn’t a man who merely hooks up. He treats people more carefully than that, even delicate in the way he’s responded to your own shameless attempts to get him to flirt with you over the course of six wedding parties in as many years.

You certainly thought he wasn’t this type until he not only hooked up with you, he left before what happened the evening prior could even be discussed. You woke up to a dry mouth, pounding head, and empty bed with no trace of blonde hair or scarred torso left behind. It’s the sole reason why you’re gripping the handle of your own suitcase so tightly your knuckles are turning white, practically burning holes into him with your angry, weighty glance.

“Do you mind if we talk more later? I’m tired from the flight.”

He doesn’t meet your eyes when he asks. You roll yours and that laugh he’s so shaken by regularly becomes something a little jilted, harsh and nasally in its near snort-like form when you let it loose.

“Yeah, if you want. I mean you have had a whole year to clear the air so why not wait until two nights before we have no choice but to be amicable to do it?”

Ah yes. Now he meets your gaze, nodding silently. It’s not shocking that you’re upset, only that you’re still this upset.

“We’ll talk later.”

You don’t bother to argue knowing you’ll never win one against him. It also doesn’t help that he immediately flung the door to his room open and stomped inside, punctuating his sentence with a slamming door.

Rolling your eyes, you finish your safe entry into your own room and begin to dread what the future has in store for you.

[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.”

[scarnatlover]

Helloo :) could you write Nat x supersoldier!reader smut? R, just like Steve, was frozen for a long time and they barely got to live their life before that. R is a virgin and has avoided having sex with Nat because...well, they're inexperienced and somewhat ashamed of that, but Nat ends uo teaching R how to fuck her? G!p reader pls with mommy kink and a lot of praise.

Bubble

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x SuperSoldier!Reader (romantic)

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. sexual themes, smut, Reader has a cock, inexperienced reader, handjob, mommy kink, praise, p in v, missionary, crying, very soft Natty.

A/N: I'm sorry if anything is spelled incorrectly, but English is not my first language. I apologize in advance for my grammar and spelling. If you have any request, I will try and write them.

For Nat, there was nothing better than your relationship. Just like your best friend Steve, you received the super soldier serum. When the plane crashed, you were with him, freezing both. So to say that you missed a lot of things is an understatement. But Nat wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

She loves helping you with all the tech tools you haven’t gotten used to. She loves how you’re not used to New York traffic. How you still write her love letters instead of messages on the phone, but above all she loves how much you are still a gentlewoman. You help her carry her bags or her handbag, you open the car door to let her in and out, kiss her hand, offer your coat if you go out on a date and she feels cold or your shoes to prevent her feet from hurting because of heels.

In short, Natasha might say that there is nothing missing in your relationship. But if she did, it would be a little lie. Since it is beginning to feel the lack of something. And that thing is sex.

She knows it’s a subject you don’t like to talk about much. She remembers the night you said you’d never had physical experiences with anyone before. She remembers the look on your face, full of shame, but she only reassured you, telling you that she didn’t care and that things would go at your own pace. But after six months of being together, the physical needs were starting to kick in.

Everything you did turned her on. The way you use your teeth to tear tape or a package. Or how you hug her innocently from behind, nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck. Or when you adjust your glasses that slips down your nose. Or when you put on sweatpants and, without you realizing it, the outline of your member is visible.

That’s why, while you were training with Steve and Bucky, she went out with Wanda, her best friend, to see if she had any advice for her.

“I don’t know Wands, she doesn’t seem interested in the slightest. I came out of the bathroom naked a few nights ago, but nothing. No reaction,” she told her, exasperated.

“Nat, talk to her. The only time you discussed it together was at the beginning of your relationship. Even if she didn’t react, maybe she wants it too, but you know how she is. She’s ashamed of even the smallest thing,” the other replied, continuing to stir her tea. They had stopped at a bar after getting their nails done, Nat opting for a navy blue instead of her usual dark red, since it’s your favorite color.

After a few days, Nat still hadn’t found the courage to broach the subject with you. She just couldn’t. And in doing so, she hadn’t even realized that she was slowly distancing herself from you, even if it wasn’t her intention. It left you confused every time she refused your touch, from your usual hand on her lower back, to the gentle, light kisses first thing in the morning.

Thinking something was wrong, you planned a night out for the two of you. All day you left her notes at the places in the complex that you knew she went to most often. Every time she found one, she smiled sweetly, and at some she even shed a few tears, telling herself how lucky she was to have found someone like you.

Finally, towards evening, after following all the notes, she found herself in front of your bedroom door, wearing pajama pants with her symbol on them and a t-shirt that she had stolen from you. She knocked twice on the door and it immediately opened. She was greeted by your big smile, the one she knew very well and that was only and exclusively reserved for her.

“I didn’t know if you were really going to come” you told her, whispering.

She frowned, almost asking for explanations.

“These days it almost seemed like you were ignoring me, avoiding any kind of contact”

Nat felt a pang of remorse hearing your words and seeing your body language. You were playing with your fingers, biting your inner cheeks, your eyes looking anywhere but at her and your face down. A clear message that you were a little embarrassed and worried about her answer.

Nat just took your face in her hands, then brought your head closer to her shoulder and wrapped you in her arms, despite the significant height difference.

“I’m so sorry, bubble, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad” she then whispered in your ear, her voice hoarse but at the same time sweet, full of remorse. You remained in that position for a few minutes, then separated and looked into each other’s eyes. Immediately, she encircled your face in her hands and kissed you softly.

“So, what do you have planned for the two of us?”

---

The two of you were cuddling on the bed, you between Nat's legs, your hands playing with one of hers while the other gently stroked your hair. You were watching Bloomington, a movie that Sam had mischievously recommended to you. You could already tell right away that it wasn't going to be an easy night for you, especially when you noticed that the scenes between the two women were becoming more and more provocative.

You started to squirm a little, trying to hide from Nat the fact that you were getting hard, thinking and seeing that instead of the actresses' faces, it was a scene between you and Nat. It's not that these thoughts have never crossed your mind. Quite the opposite. They cross your mind every time you are near the redhead.

From that moment on, you were no longer able to pay attention to the movie, but only to think about how the two actresses in the movie could be you and Nat. How you would love to be under her, how you would love to touch her where only you can touch, how you would proudly wear her marks on your skin. By now, you were painfully hard and you could feel your boxers getting wetter and wetter from the precum.

Of course, your attempts to hide your erection were noticed by Nat. She knew that, somehow, the movie would have an effect on you, and your continued squirming was proof of that, just like your hands at some point stopped playing with her fingers and went to cover your member.

But she did nothing to stop you or help you with this situation. She wanted you to tell her what you wanted, your needs, your desires. But these requests never came, and Nat was tired. So she took matters into her own hands.

“Why are you wriggling so much, little bubble? Why do you keep your hands down there?” she asked, pretending not to know exactly what you were doing and trying to hide.

You whined, not wanting to reveal the real reason. Her hands began to slide all over your body, then up to rest gently on your neck. This caused you to remove your hands, which moved to her arms, making your erection clearly visible.

“Oh baby. What do we have here?” she feigned innocence. “I bet you’re all sticky down there, hmm?”

And she was right. You could feel your boxers sticking to your skin, and you didn’t like the feeling.

“What were you thinking about, little bubble, that made your cock so hard?”

You were trying to get the words out, but they didn't seem to come to you. You were embarrassed, ashamed, of the situation you found yourself in. Natasha, with one hand on your neck and the other gently tracing your lips, didn't allow you to speak and form sentences that made sense.

"I-I was thinking about you" you finally spoke, your voice no higher than a whisper. Your cheeks colored red that could be compared to the color of Nat's hair.

"Me, hm? And what was I doing?" she teased, with that little smile plastered on her face that she knew drove you crazy. "Do you need me for anything in particular?" she continued, her voice also no higher than a whisper. But it wasn't the same whisper you had emitted a few seconds before. Yours was a whisper that hid shame and embarrassment, but hers hid something deeper, more lustful, more erotic.

You shook your head, not wanting to explicitly tell her that you actually needed her. She continued to look at you, but eventually looked away from yours to look for the TV remote. She put on a Disney movie, but you didn’t even pay attention to which one it was. You were too focused on the feeling of her hands on your body; one still on your neck, the other gently caressing your abs.

After a while, you finally managed to watch the movie, but the moment of peace was short-lived. In fact, Nat decided right then to slide her hand into your shorts. You gasped because you weren’t expecting it, but then you moaned because Nat had grabbed your cock. You looked up at her, expecting to see her gaze already on you, but it almost seemed like she did it by mistake, since she was still watching the movie, not even a smirk on her face.

You tried to get her attention in every way, calling her name, patting her thighs or her arms, kissing her wherever you could reach, but nothing. Her hand hadn’t moved from inside your pants, her fingers still encircling your painfully hard cock. You were helpless, and Nat knew it well, but he wasn't going to do anything until you specifically asked for it. At first, you were determined not to admit your needs, but in the end, desperation took over.

“Please, Mommy. Touch me” you whispered and immediately, her incredulous gaze landed on yours. Her eyes were wide, her pupils were dilated and a darker green. Her face shocked, she couldn’t understand how such an innocent girl could call her with such a dirty name.

“Mommy, hmm?” she teased. “Where on earth would you have heard that term? Such an innocent girl shouldn’t know that.”

“I was curious, and by mistake, I-I watched some naughty movies.” you whispered. 

She smirked, and pulled down your pants and boxers, freeing your cock. She looked into your eyes, offering a reassuring smile. You nodded slightly, giving her the consent you knew she was looking for.

She spat on her hand, which she then wrapped around your length. You moaned in pleasure and the new sensation Nat’s hand was giving you. She began to slowly move her hand up and down, her eyes watching your every facial expression. Your hands tightened around her arms, your head resting completely against her stomach.

“Does this feel good, love? Such a good girl I have,” she said, her movements getting faster and faster. You were sure she could feel your cock throbbing in her hand. Your eyes closed, the pleasure too much to resist. Your legs began to shake, but that only made Nat’s hand move faster. Your moans were getting louder and louder, but Nat cared little about that. She was enjoying the scene before her. Her super soldier, who was always composed, impassive, was now reduced to a moaning mess.

You started to feel a knot forming in your stomach, and at first the sensation wasn’t pleasant. But it was quickly forgotten when you felt Nat start to caress your face in comfort. She then used the liquid that was coming out of the tip of your cock to go even faster.

“Mommy, I-I need…” you tried to say, but it was like those few words were all you had in your vocabulary. You arched your back, your hips rose, but with her hand resting on your abs, Nat had you leaned back against the mattress.

“You can only cum when I tell you to,” the redhead said with authority. “Are we clear? Or do you want to be my bad girl and disobey Mommy,” you shook your head violently, making Nat smile and lean down to give you a sweet kiss on the forehead. She murmured a soft “good” before increasing the speed of her hand even more.

And suddenly, everything stopped. Nat took her hand off your pants and stood up from behind you. She started to take off her shorts, if you could call them that since they didn’t even reach mid-thigh, and the white panties she was wearing. Then she went to the bathroom, leaving the door open, and she slumped down to get something you couldn’t see from under the sink.

When she returned, she knelt in front of you and, carefully, sensually opened the condom package. She took your still very erect cock in her hand and unrolled the condom around it. She then stood up and kissed you softly and passionately, her hands this time around your neck, while yours wrapped around her hips. Once you were apart, she lay down next to you on the bed, making you climb on top of her. You looked at her a little embarrassed, as you didn’t know what to do, but she just smiled at you.

“Such a good girl for Mommy. Take your cock and rub it against my folds, love,” she whispered, as if she was afraid of saying something wrong. You immediately did as she said, and the moment your cock made contact with her pussy, your arms almost gave out. She moaned as your cock hit her clit.

“Enter me, bubble.”

This time she took your member in her hands and positioned it against her entrance and you gently slid your cock inside her. She was warm, and oh so tight. You could barely move, but slowly you managed to fit it all in. Feeling her pussy squeeze your cock, you almost collapsed on top of her. One of her hands was gently caressing your back, while the other was in your hair.

“I’m ready when you are. Take your time, my love,” she whispered lovingly in your ear, her breathing a little labored. Your hand reached down to touch the bulge in her stomach, and at the sensation you moaned. You slowly began to move your hips, watching her facial expressions and the bulge in her stomach intently.

“That's it, bubble. Look at you, being so gentle and slow with Mommy.” she murmured, her head thrown back on the pillows, her mouth in an O shape and her hands resting against your back.

Your movements were slow, a far cry from the intensity with which Nat had been masturbating you earlier. You were afraid that your strength would accidentally hurt her. But seeing her enjoy and take pleasure in something you were doing made your thrusts become stronger and more erratic. You rutted into her, your rhythm now off, your head overwhelmed with pleasure.

Natasha noticed this. She gently moved her hands from your back to your hips, trying to slow down your thrusts. She guided your movements, helped you find a more regular rhythm. She was looking at you with a gaze full of love, something that was meant only for you. If other people saw her right now, they would wonder if the real Natasha Romanoff had been kidnapped, because this side of the redhead was not meant to be seen by everyone.

“Do you like being inside Mommy, mhm baby? Do you like feeling your big cock moving inside her?”

You whimpered and leaned your head against her shoulder. She giggled, gently stroking your hair. You felt your eyes fill with tears. It was all too much. The feeling of being inside Nat, the pleasure of her tight, warm pussy was overwhelming. You began, albeit unintentionally, to scratch her arms to try to bring her closer to you. She flinched at the scratches, but decided not to comment on them, but instead wrapped her arms around you.

“No, bubble, don’t cry. You’re doing well, much better than some people. Big, deep breaths for me, love,” she murmured. “I’m so close, baby. Mommy is so close” 

You moved your hand down, placing it on her clit and began to make circles, like you had seen in the videos you had watched. She moaned even louder, quickly reaching the peak of pleasure. Seeing her come, filled you with pride, then overtaken by your own climax.

You leaned on her, your head placed on the juncture of her neck, where you left a few sweet kisses. She continued to whisper gentle praises in your ear as she cuddled you. She held you tightly against her, as if to protect you from what was outside the confines of your bed.

When you recovered, you unwillingly slipped out of her and pulled off the condom, throwing it away. Nat went to the bathroom in the meantime, then came back out wearing a pair of your boxers. You watched her get under the covers and get comfortable. You did the same. You went to the bathroom first, did what you had to do, went back to the bedroom and got dressed, then snuggled up against Nat.

“You did so well, bubble,” she whispered, leaving a kiss on your forehead, making you smile, and turning on the TV. “Dexter? 3x2?” she then asked, taking a chocolate bar out of the drawer. You nodded, then picking up the bar and starting to nibble on it while watching the series.

“I love you, sweetheart” was the last thing you heard before falling into the arms of Morpheus.

So after this I think I'll take a little break from writing. Requests will still be open, but I was planning on starting a series (still Natasha Romanoff x Reader) and I already have the moodboard done. I don't know how long it will be yet, but the first chapter is almost done. But I don't know when it will be published. I'll see what I can do, but before I publish the first chapter, I want to start another request so I'll probably have to wait until after that request is published

[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. 

[alexthetrashyracoon]

Price x Reader (Fem!POV)

I'm sorry if it's sounds hasty or anything...

Tags: Fluff, Child Birth (not described because I only know the basics about it and don't want to touch too deep into this topic) Freshly baked Father Price

John Price stood at the airport terminal, the weight of his duffel slung over his shoulder while his thoughts were elsewhere.

He had just stepped off a military transport plane after being deployed for months with the rest of the team. The mission had been gone on longer than anticipated, making Price miss the most important event in his entire life.

The birth of his daughter.

He had wanted to be there, by his wife's side, letting her break his hand and curse his name for getting her pregnant. She had joked about it all the time to hide her tense nerves.

The call came mid-flight. His wife had gone into labour three weeks too early, their child was planned to be a January child. Now it was a December child, only a few days away from Christmas. By the time he had touched down his daughter he still had to meet was already in this world. The thoughts of his wife being alone during labour made John's stomach churn.

John's jaw tightened as he made his way through the throngs of travelers as he made his way to the exit. A cab screeched to a halt as he flagged it down.

"St. Mary's Hospital." He said to the driver, his tone chipped but polite.

The driver regarded him through the rearview mirror, his gaze curious as he took in John's appearance. The worn uniform, the messy beard, the dark circles under his eyes. But the driver stayed quiet.

"Congrats." The man behind the wheel said after a while, maneuvering through the city past the afternoon traffic.

John blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The hospital. New Dad, right?"

He nodded. "Thanks."

The rest of the drive was silent, John's mind was constantly playing back the voicemail his wife left him.

"It's happening! The baby is coming early, John! I know you're not here! But I wish you were here! It's happening!"

Despite her calm voice, John knew she was scared, who wasn't. Giving birth to a living human being, even a small one... John faced down guns and rockets and all kinds of dangers, but even thinking about the birthing process made him think twice.

The cab came to a halt in front of the hospital, John didn't pay attention as the driver told him how much he owned, just handed him most of the cash he had on his person and bolted outside and into the hospital. His boots pounding against the pavement, then the linoleum floor of the hospital.

At the reception he asked for her room, the receptionist smiled and told John that his wife was in room 412.

John took two steps at a time, his heart was pounding with each step he took.

By the time he reached room 412, he paused, taking a deep breath, collecting himself.

Then he knocked and waited for her word to come inside.

Pushing the door open, his breath caught in his chest.

His wife, propped up on some pillows, pale around the nose but glowing with a tired smile. In her arms a little bundle. Their little bundle of joy. The faintest wisp of dark hair peeking out from the blanket.

"John." She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He crossed the room in three strides, dropping his bag and kneeling by her bedside, cupping her face and pressing his forehead against her.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." he whispered, his voice thick. "I should have been here."

"You're here now." she said, tears streaming down her cheeks.

John stared down on their daughter. His vision blurring and his fingers trembling as he carefully traced the tiny features, the delicate nose, the gentle raise and fall of her chest as she slept. She was so small, so fragile. She was all John promised to protect.

"What's her name?" He asked and looked up from the little girl's face to meet his wife's gentle but tired gaze.

"I thought we would decide together." She replied and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Jane." He said after a while. "Jane Grace Price. After your grandmother."

John sat down besides her, cradling the tiny infant against his chest, not daring to look away. For the first time in months John felt the tension fall from his shoulders.

"She's beautiful." He said softly, feeling his wife's head rest against his shoulder. "I'll make it up to you. Both of you. I will be here for you. From now on and forever. I'm here now. And I'm never letting go."

[redroomreflections]

Meet The Family

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader (Black Reader)

The Loud House Universe

Summary: Natasha meets R's family for the first time

W/c: 7k

"Babe, I have no idea what you are so nervous about." You shook your head. You grabbed onto your luggage as you deboarded the plane. "They're going to love you."

"I don't doubt that," Natasha said as she slipped the sunglasses onto her face. It's not like it's her first time flying economy before. She insisted that the two of you act as normal as a couple. That's what she craved. Normalcy. Someone not into the lights and cameras and the novelty of her being a hero. That is why she was excited to do the typical thing of meeting your family.

"Sure doesn’t seem like it,” you teased, nudging her lightly with your elbow as the two of you made your way through the terminal. Natasha’s calm exterior might fool anyone else, but you caught the subtle way she fiddled with the strap of her carry-on, her usual poise betraying just a hint of unease.

“I’m just... being cautious,” Natasha replied with a smirk, though you could hear the sincerity in her tone. “Your family is important to you. That means they’re important to me.”

Her words warmed your heart even as you rolled your eyes playfully. “That’s sweet, but they’re just regular people, babe. You're not meeting the president. Just eat good food, laugh at my mom's jokes, and pretend we haven't had premarital sex. Which is interesting of a hill to die on for my mom, but..."

Natasha let out a laugh. "I think I can handle that."

"And don't feel intimidated if they ask you many questions about your job," you continued. "I already warned them about keeping the interrogation to a minimum, but my family is the worst when it comes to asking about every little detail."

Natasha stopped, turning towards you with a serious expression. "I am more than prepared for an interrogation. That's my job description."

The two of you continued walking to baggage claim, keeping up with the traffic flow as you talked.

“Okay,” she said suddenly, tilting her head toward you. “Anything I should know before we get there? Any family secrets or rules I should avoid breaking?”

You snorted. “Well, for starters, don’t say you don’t eat pork. My mom might take that as a personal attack on her cooking.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Good to know. What else?”

“Let’s see,” you mused, counting off on your fingers. “Peyton’s going to act like she runs the world because she’s the oldest, Quincy will probably crack a million dad jokes, and Brandon’s baby's mother… well, don’t take it personally if she doesn’t say much. She’s not big on conversation.”

"She's 17, right?" Natasha asked, her eyes widening as you walked through the airport.

"They both are," You nodded. "Everything I've told you about my family before, believe it."

"That's a lot of people," Natasha smiled softly. She'd always been more comfortable being around small groups. The bigger the group, the more uncomfortable she was.

"Yeah," You grinned. "My parents were great at making babies. There's four of us."

"Hmm," Natasha nodded. "Let me guess that's your brother over there with the sign." She gestured with a raise of her chin to the teenaged boy with a toddler in one arm and a sign that read "Welcome back from the Convent."

You burst out laughing as soon as you spotted the sign. "Of course he did," you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief. Natasha chuckled beside you, the corner of her mouth quirking up in amusement.

"That's Brandon for you," you confirmed as you adjusted your bag and walked toward him. "Always a comedian."

Brandon caught sight of you as you approached and broke into a grin. "Hey, sis!" he called out, holding the baby with one arm while waving enthusiastically with the other. The baby, a chubby-cheeked little girl with curly hair, looked unimpressed but content in his hold.

"Really, Brandon?" you said, gesturing to the sign as Natasha raised an eyebrow. "A convent? That’s what you went with?"

"What? It’s funny," he replied, shrugging with a smirk. "Gotta keep you humble."

You rolled your eyes, stepping forward to hug him while Natasha stood back, observing the interaction with quiet interest. "And what about me screams ‘convent,’ exactly?"

"Law school, late nights studying, no time for fun—sounds like a convent to me," Brandon teased before shifting his attention to Natasha. "So, this must be the famous Natasha. Welcome to the family."

"Oh, we're not..." Natasha's cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she looked at you. "We're not married or anything."

"Yet," He finished with a smile, reaching out to shake her hand. "The way she talks about you, I'd have thought you had already put a ring on it."

"Brandon, stop," You groaned, your cheeks reddening. Natasha looked at you curiously, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"What? It's true. I mean, the whole family's heard all about your girl—"

"Give me my niece. She's getting fussy," You interrupted before he could embarrass you. You and Natasha had been dating for almost a year and a half. She knows practically everything there is to know. But hearing your family's opinion of her made you nervous.

"Fine," Brandon sighed. "You'll have to catch up on all the drama once we're in the car anyway. It's crazy at home."

"Oh? Why's that?" You asked, reaching out to take the toddler in your arms.

"I'll take the bags," He offered to Natasha. He didn't find offense when she declined. He simply kept the conversation going.

"Mom's pissed about Tori," He said, referring to his current girlfriend. "Her parents still won't let her move back home. Also, Peyton and Ross are having some issues. You didn't hear it from me, though. Oh- I parked over here."

He led the three of you to the car, where he opened the trunk and tossed all of your bags in there.

"Hey, that's Gucci," You warned him. "That bag has my laptop."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be careful." He waved you off. "Can you buckle her in?" He asked.

Buckling Willow into her car seat was a feat. It was a new experience that you were excited to have, but she was a wiggler. You were glad to be an aunt and help her dad. You knew Natasha was watching the interaction with interest. Once everyone was seated, Brandon backed the car onto the road and out of the airport parking lot. You were terrified of his driving.

"Mom, let you drive the car," You thought aloud. "That's a first. Peyton and I had to beg her to let us drive practically."

"Well, I'm the baby. I get special privileges," He bragged. "Miss Natasha, you're quiet back there."

"She's fine," You defended her.

"I'm just listening," She replied.

Brandon glanced at Natasha through the rearview mirror as he navigated the freeway. His curiosity was written on his face, and you braced yourself for whatever line of questioning he was about to launch into.

“So,” he started one hand on the wheel and the other drumming lightly on the console. “What’s it like being an Avenger? Do y’all just fight aliens and save the world all day, or is it mostly paperwork?”

Natasha chuckled softly, the sound surprising you a little. She leaned forward just enough to meet Brandon’s gaze in the mirror. “A lot less glamorous than you’d think. Fighting aliens happens occasionally, but it’s mostly meetings, training, and arguing over whose turn it is to clean the kitchen.”

"Wait, you mean to tell me y'all don't have maids or a team to do that stuff?"

"Not for personal stuff, no," Natasha explained.

"And I'm gonna assume there are no benefits, insurance, or anything like that."

"It's government-funded," Natasha said. "So there's plenty of benefits and health insurance."

"Do you get to fly around in a spaceship, or is that reserved for Captain America and Iron Man?"

"There's a jet," Natasha replied.

"Brandon, can we not?" You asked.

"Oh, come on," he protested. "You didn't warn her about the third degree? Besides, it's not like you've seen any action."

"Not directly," You corrected. "But I've watched the news."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to pry. I just want to make sure you're safe. The rest of the fam is going to want to know."

"That's understandable," Natasha said.

"So, what are the chances I'll get a ride in one of those Avengers planes?" He joked.

"Brandon!" You groaned.

"What? Can't blame a guy for dreaming," he laughed. "Okay, I have a real question—do you guys like to hang out? Play cards? Do movie nights? Or is it all business?”

“Depends on the day,” Natasha answered, her voice relaxed. “We’ve had our share of poker nights, but Thor’s terrible at bluffing, and Clint’s too good. Movie nights are better unless someone picks Star Wars. That always ends in arguments about the ‘proper’ order to watch them in.”

“Man, I wish I could’ve been a fly on the wall for some of that,” Brandon said, shaking his head. “You ever bring her to the tower?” he asked, jerking his thumb in your direction.

“A few times,” Natasha said, glancing at you with a small smile. “We mostly hang out at her apartment with Karen. She keeps saying she doesn’t want to ‘cramp my style.’”

“Excuse me for wanting to keep a low profile,” you said, feigning indignation. “Unlike you, Brandon, I’m not trying to be best friends with everyone.”

Brandon shot you a look of mock outrage, pressing one hand against his chest.

"You wound me, sister. Truly."

"I'll do worse than that if you don't focus on the road," You warned him.

"Fine, fine." He raised his hands in surrender.

It would be long if the rest of the day would be like Brandon's questioning.

**********

As Brandon hoisted Willow out of her car seat, she babbled happily, grabbing his hair as he balanced her on his hip. “Alright, ladies, this is where I leave you to fend for yourselves,” he said with a teasing grin, holding open the front door with his foot.

“We can manage,” you shot back with a smirk, lugging your bags from the trunk.

“You sure? I can carry the fancy bag,” Brandon said, eyeing your Gucci luggage again.

“Get inside, Brandon,” you said firmly, laughing despite yourself.

Brandon shrugged and disappeared into the house with Willow, leaving you and Natasha standing by the car.

You turned to Natasha, who was sliding her sunglasses off and tucking them into the neckline of her sweater. “Hey,” you said softly, touching her arm. “You good? I know my family can be  a lot.”

"Baby, I'm fine," Natasha said. "Trust me. This is what I do."

"I can't pretend I don't love it when you call me baby." You sighed.

"Well, then maybe I should use it more often," She said. "Also, relax. It's Thanksgiving."

"You're right," You said. "But still, if it gets overwhelming, just let me know."

Natasha nodded, and the two of you headed into the house. As soon as the door opened, the sounds and smells of Thanksgiving Day swarmed around you. Loud, chattering voices, the clatter of dishes, and the mouthwatering scent of roasting turkey filled the house, and you took a moment to close your eyes and soak it in.

"Is that my daughter, I hear?" Your mother's voice rang out from the kitchen.

"Yes, Mama, it's me." You called back. You kicked your shoes off and placed them neatly inside the coat closet. Natasha followed suit.

"Are you the famous girlfriend we've heard so much about?" Your mom asked.

"Yes, ma'am. My name is Natasha."

"Come here, girl, and hug me," your mom ordered, appearing from the kitchen and wiping her hands on a dish towel. "My name's Vivian. It's nice to meet you finally."

Natasha initially hugged Vivian, a bit hesitant, but the older woman’s firm and affectionate embrace quickly put her at ease. “It’s so nice to meet you, ma’am,” Natasha said, stepping back with a warm smile. “You have an incredible daughter. I’ve been hearing nothing but great things about you.”

Vivian chuckled, her sharp eyes twinkling as she gave Natasha a once-over. “Well, flattery will get you everywhere,” she teased. “But please, don’t call me ma’am. It makes me feel old. Vivian or Mama Viv will do just fine.”

“Mama Viv, then,” Natasha said with a slight nod, her voice smooth and respectful.

“Good. Now tell me, Natasha,” Vivian said, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe, “what exactly are your intentions with my baby?”

Your eyes widened as you fumbled for words. “Mama!”

Natasha didn’t miss a beat, though. She clasped her hands together, her expression sincere. “To love her, respect her, and make her proud, ma’am—uh, Mama Viv. And to eat as much of your cooking as you’ll let me,” she added with a playful smirk.

Vivian broke into a laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, she’s good,” she said, glancing at you. “I see why you like her. Alright, Natasha, you’re off to a good start. Come help me in the kitchen, and we’ll see if you can hold your own in there.”

Natasha glanced at you for confirmation, and you gave her a subtle nod. She followed Vivian into the kitchen without hesitation. You followed behind, though, at a slower pace. The next few moments were crucial for first impressions.

"I'll warn you, I'm not a great cook," She said.

"That's alright," Vivian said. "I'll put you to work peeling potatoes or something. Wanna see if you'll pull your weight around here."

You smiled, hearing them chat back and forth. It was a good sign. You were sure your mom would find something Natasha could do.

"You made it," Quincy's voice boomed from behind you. He didn't give you time to react before he pulled you into a bear hug. "And you brought Natasha."

"Of course," You laughed.

"Good." He nodded. "I was worried you were going to bail on us. You never come home anymore."

"Don't start, Quincy," You rolled your eyes. "I was home last Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, after not coming home for a whole year," He said. "Introduce me to your girlfriend." He grinned. He was starstruck.

"She's helping Mom cook," You informed him. You both walked into the kitchen and saw Natasha shaking hands with your sister, Peyton. Brandon was at the counter feeding a few strawberries to Willow as his girlfriend Tori sat beside him on her phone. She seemed completely unaware of the world around her.

"So, you're an Avenger," Peyton said, her tone a little skeptical. "I must admit we didn't believe y/n when she said she was dating you."

"Oh really," Natasha said, quirking an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Well, it's not every day a girl claims she's dating the Black Widow," Peyton pointed out.

"Yeah, but y/n isn't exactly the type to make shit up," Quincy interrupted.

"Language, boy," Vivian warned from her place at the stove.

Natasha chuckled, her eyes flickering to Peyton and then to Vivian, who had her back turned to the stove. "Don’t worry, I’ve heard worse," she said, giving Quincy a playful wink.

"See?" Quincy smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Told ya."

Vivian turned from the stove, placing a wooden spoon on the counter. "Alright, enough with the show, everyone. Peyton, get the table set. Quincy, stop trying to embarrass your sister. And you," she pointed at Natasha, "come help me with this cornbread."

Natasha nodded and stepped over to Vivian, who seemed confident in her kitchen. "What can I do?" Natasha asked, her hands instinctively moving to help without waiting for an answer.

"First things first," Vivian said, pushing a bowl of ingredients toward her, "you’re going to stir this batter, but carefully. I like a nice smooth texture for the cornbread."

Natasha rolled up her sleeves, already comfortable in the space. "I’ve got it. I’ll make it the best cornbread you’ve ever had."

Vivian, clearly pleased, gave her a once-over before speaking again. "You’re making good impressions so far, Natasha. Y/n deserves someone who knows their way around the kitchen." She eyed Natasha for a moment, her smile warm. "You do all your cooking, or is someone else handling that?"

"I do a bit of both," Natasha replied, gently mixing the batter. "But I’m always down for new recipes, especially if they come from someone who knows what they’re doing. I'm not a great cook but a fast learner."

"Well, we'll see how you do here," Vivian said.

"I guess I'll start on the pies," You rolled up your sleeves to wash your hands. A perk of flying in on Thanksgiving day was being late to the party. It was a last-minute decision to come home.

"You better be making a chocolate one," Peyton warned.

"Peyton, hush." Vivian shushed her.

"I can't wait to try it," Brandon said, his attention still on his daughter.

"I think the last thing that kid needs is sugar," Peyton teased, poking the little girl's belly. She squealed, kicking her chubby little legs.

"The sugar is the best part," Brandon retorted, kissing his daughter.

"She's getting big," You observed. "Is she talking yet?"

"No," Brandon said. "Not yet. She'll get there eventually. I can't believe she's a year old. Feels like just yesterday she was born."

"Yeah," You nodded. "Hi, Tori." You said to Brandon's girlfriend.

"Hi," She had the decency to look up from her phone.

You sat at the kitchen table, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you glanced at Tori. Finding someone like her who kept to themselves was rare, but you knew it was essential to show interest. "So, Tori, how's school and everything? I mean, besides, you know, trying to avoid getting caught in the middle of this chaotic family," you teased lightly, gesturing around the room.

Tori blinked, clearly surprised by the question, but then she seemed to soften, a hint of relief in her eyes. "Well, school is fine. I've been attending every day. I want to be a nurse," she said, her voice quieter than usual but more animated than you'd seen before. "I’ve always liked the idea of helping people, you know? I’ve been thinking about moving to Louisiana after high school to study. My aunt lives there, and she’s been telling me to come stay with her while I figure things out."

"That’s awesome," you said, genuinely interested. "Is it something you’ve wanted to do for a while?"

"Yeah," she nodded, looking down at her hands briefly. "I’ve always kind of gravitated toward taking care of people. And... I don’t know. Louisiana feels like a place where I could start fresh, away from all the stuff back here." She paused, her eyes flicking briefly to Brandon, who was still sitting with Willow. "I just... I think I could do more there. Maybe even learn some things to help me get my life on track."

You nodded thoughtfully, respecting her quiet resolve. "I think you’ll do great."

Brandon, listening in from across the room, chimed in with a knowing smile. "Yeah, we're still figuring it all out. Tori's been thinking about it, but we're also trying to figure out how to ensure Willow stays close to family." His expression softened as he glanced at his daughter. "I’m not sure how I feel about taking her away from everyone... but Tori’s excited, and it’s a big opportunity for her."

Tori shot Brandon a small, appreciative smile, though she didn’t say anything.

You could tell there was a lot of unspoken tension around it. You nodded in understanding. "It's a big decision. But I know Willow’s lucky to have you both looking out for her."

"That's so sweet," Tori said.

"I only have to put the collard greens on," Vivian began. "Natasha, do you eat pork?"

"Yes," Natasha answered.

"Good," Vivian nodded.

"What else can I do, Mama Viv?" Natasha asked.

"You're gonna make the biscuits," Vivian ordered.

"Yes, ma'am." Natasha nodded.

Things were going well. Your mom putting Natasha to work meant she was interested in her, which was a plus in your book.

As Natasha busied herself with biscuit-making under Vivian’s watchful eye, Peyton followed you into one of the bedrooms upstairs. You knew by her closeness she was about to say something. Peyton rarely held back when it came to her opinions.

“So,” she began, her tone casual but pointed, “is this thing with Natasha serious? Or is she just another quest, like Melinda?”

You paused, barely glancing at her, placing your bags in the closet. Peyton had always had a knack for finding the most loaded questions to ask, and this was no exception. You took a breath, willing yourself to stay composed.

“First of all,” you said calmly, “Natasha is not a ‘thing.’ She’s my girlfriend, Peyton. And yeah, we’re serious. Also, Melinda wasn't a quest. We were in a relationship for two years."

Peyton shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’m just saying. You’ve always had a type, you know? Strong, intense, probably a little emotionally unavailable,” she added with a smirk. “And we all know how that turned out last time.”

You shot her a warning look. “Wow, Peyton. Thank you so much for your insight into my love life. Maybe next time, you can try delivering it without the shade.”

“What? I’m just asking the questions everyone else is thinking,” she said, raising her hands defensively. “I mean, you’ve got a history. Don’t you think it’s fair to wonder how long this one will last?”

"Are you going to start? Dinner is less than three hours away," You sighed. "I came to be with family. You didn't even hug me when I came in the door."

"Because you've been here ten minutes," Peyton argued. "Look, I'm not trying to start anything, y/n. I'm just curious. It's not like we see or talk to you very much."

"Well, I've been busy," You retorted.

"You could've called more," Peyton insisted. "The girls miss you."

"I'm sorry," You shook your head. "Law school has been intense."

Peyton’s eyes flicked to the Gucci bag you’d set neatly by the door, her expression shifting into something slightly amused but undeniably pointed. “That’s a nice bag you’ve got there,” she remarked, her tone light but laced with something else. “Designer, right?”

You bristled, sensing where this was going. “Yeah, it’s a gift,” you replied curtly, refusing to elaborate. You’d learned that giving Peyton more information was like throwing fuel on a fire.

“Must be nice,” she said, her voice slightly more severe. “Meanwhile, Mom’s been stressing over the laundromat. She doesn’t say it outright, but I know things have been tight lately.”

You froze, your jaw tightening. “Peyton—”

“She’s paying your tuition,” Peyton continued, folding her arms. “So, I just think, you know, maybe she deserves to know if you’re spending money on fancy bags.”

“It’s a gift,” you repeated, your voice sharper now. “And last I checked, my education was something Mom was proud to support, not some burden she needed you to fight about.”

Peyton shrugged, unfazed by your defensiveness. “I’m not saying it’s a burden. I’m just saying she’s doing a lot. And maybe you could... I don’t know; check in a little more. Be more aware of what’s going on back home.”

“Wow, Peyton. Thanks for the lecture,” you shot back. “I had no idea you were Mom’s financial advisor now.”

“I’m just saying,” Peyton countered. “You’re out there living your life, and we’re holding things down. It wouldn’t hurt to pick up the phone or swing by more often. The girls miss you, Mom misses you, and whether you want to hear it or not, things aren’t easy around here.”

You exhaled sharply, crossing your arms. “Look, I get it, okay? I know I’ve been caught up with school and everything else. But you don’t need to guilt-trip me about it. I’m doing the best I can.”

Peyton’s face softened, if only slightly. “I’m not trying to guilt-trip you, y/n. I just... I worry about Mama, and I worry about you too. You’ve got this shiny new life now, and it’s great, but don’t forget where you came from. That’s all I’m saying.”

You shook your head, annoyance and regret swirling in your gut. Part of you wanted to defend yourself, but another part felt like it was too little, too late. Instead, you breathed and tried to let the frustration melt away. Paying your tuition was something your mother did for each of her children. Quincy had gone to get his mechanical engineering degree and became a product engineer. You're still determining exactly what he does, but he earns an excellent salary. Peyton had gone to college and ultimately dropped out after becoming pregnant with the twins in her junior year. Now it was your turn.

You felt that despite how much your mom wanted you to attend law school, the money was tighter than she'd initially let on. It wasn't that she was stingy. Your mom was the most generous person you knew. But she had her pride. You knew you had to pay her back one day.

"Okay, okay," You said, rubbing your temples. "I've been working a lot. I can take out loans if I have to. Just let me talk to Mom. See what she says."

Peyton didn't look entirely convinced. "If you say so."

"Look, it's been a long trip, and I wanted to see everyone and have a good time," You explained. "Are you going to treat me like this the whole time?"

"No," Peyton rolled her eyes. "We can pretend we're normal and get along for one day."

"Good," You said. "Now, can we please just go hang out with everyone? I didn't come from New York to spend the holiday with you lecturing me."

"I love you, little sister," Peyton said as you began to walk past her. "I apologize for coming across that way."

"I know, Peyton," You sighed.

The two of you walked back downstairs, and you returned to the kitchen to see Natasha holding Willow in her arms. You paused in the doorway, your steps slowing as your gaze landed on Natasha. She held Willow close, her movements careful yet natural, like she’d been doing this forever. Willow babbled happily, one tiny hand clutching at Natasha’s necklace and the other reaching up to pat her cheek. Natasha smiled, a soft, genuine curve of her lips that you didn’t get to see often.

It was... endearing. Unexpected but endearing.

Natasha had always struck you as someone who thrived in control, her precision and composure unshakeable. But here she was, rocking a squirmy, giggling baby in her arms with a quiet patience that made your chest ache the best way.

She caught you watching, her green eyes meeting yours over Willow’s head. “Hey,” she said softly, a trace of shyness in her voice. “She’s a natural charmer, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice catching just a bit. “She likes you.”

Natasha chuckled, shifting Willow so the baby rested more securely against her shoulder. “I like her too,” she admitted. “But, full disclosure, I have no idea what I’m doing. I think she’s just being nice to me.”

You smiled, stepping closer. “You’re doing fine,” you said, your tone warm. “Better than fine. She doesn’t let just anyone hold her without pitching a fit.”

Willow reached for Natasha’s face again, her little fingers brushing against her cheek. Natasha didn’t flinch, just gently caught the baby’s hand and kissed her tiny palm. The sight was almost too much—tenderness wrapped up in someone so unrelentingly strong.

“Do you want her ?” Natasha asked, her voice light but filled with a bit of hesitation like maybe she didn’t want to let go just yet.

You shook your head, leaning against the counter. “Nah, you’re doing great. Besides, I think she’s already picked a favorite.”

Natasha gave a soft laugh, the sound low and genuine. “Guess I’ll have to live up to it, then.”

Vivian came in a moment later. "Everything's all ready," She said.

"Mom, did you make mac and cheese?" Peyton asked.

"Yes," Vivian nodded. "Your daughter requested it."

"Thanks, Mama," Peyton said.

Vivian glanced at you and Peyton, her eyes narrowing. "Y'all weren't fighting, were you?"

"No, ma'am," You and Peyton said in unison.

"Don't lie," Vivian scolded.

"We're fine," You insisted.

"We can save the arguing after Thanksgiving dinner," Peyton added.

"Alright," Vivian shrugged. "I'm not going to pretend to understand you two."

Natasha glanced between you and your sister, but you did not indicate that you were bothered by what had happened.

"Twins are back," Ross called from the front door as he entered the house with Deyjah and Diamond. All you heard was the pitter-patter of little feet as they kicked off their shoes and ran toward the kitchen.

"There's the troublemakers," You joked, ruffling their heads.

"You're back," Diamond exclaimed, pulling you into a hug.

"I am," You laughed, squeezing her back.

"Did you bring presents?" Deyjah asked, looking up at you expectantly.

"I didn't," You said. "It's not Christmas just yet. Girls, there's someone I want you to meet. This is my girlfriend, Natasha."

Diamond and Deyjah eyed Natasha curiously, their matching gazes assessing her with an unnerving and impressive sharpness.

"Why's your hair red?" Deyjah asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Well, I was born with red hair," Natasha explained. "Just like how y/n was born with dark hair."

"I was born first," Diamond announced proudly, puffing out her chest. "But I don't remember."

"Duh, 'cause you were a baby," Deyjah scoffed.

"Girls," Vivian scolded, "don't be rude. Why don't you go wash up for dinner?"

They did as they were told, rushing off to the bathroom.

"They're pretty cute," Natasha began. "How do you tell them apart?" She directed her question to Peyton.

"There are a few subtle differences," Peyton began. "Diamond has slightly better speech than Deyjah. Deyjah always has some sort of bracelet or necklace on. Though if you look closely, Diamond has a tiny mole on the left side of her neck."

Natasha nodded, seeming satisfied. "So, how old are they?"

"Six," Peyton answered.

"Six," Natasha echoed.

"Yep, six going on sixteen," Peyton joked. "They keep me busy most days."

"I can imagine," Natasha chuckled. "They're smart kids."

"Oh yeah," Peyton grinned. "They're smart."

You couldn't help but smile at Natasha's interest in the twins. She seemed genuinely curious and focused solely on Peyton as she talked about the girls. Seeing someone other than your mom and Brandon engaging with her was refreshing.

"This is my husband, Ross," Peyton introduced.

"Pleasure to meet you," Ross shook Natasha's hand. "Big fan."

"He's a fan," Peyton explained. "He loves all that superhero stuff. I'm not really into it, though."

"I can imagine," Natasha smiled. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Ross."

"Yeah, likewise," he replied, clearly starstruck. "How was the flight?"

"It was alright," You answered. "It's good to be back home."

Indeed it was.

******

The dining room was packed, every seat around the table taken, and a few extra chairs were squeezed in to accommodate the crowd. The smell of collard greens, roasted turkey, and freshly baked cornbread filled the air, mingling with the soft strains of gospel music playing from a speaker in the corner. Laughter and chatter echoed through the room as plates and glasses were passed around.

You sat beside Natasha, her hand resting lightly on your knee beneath the table. She looked calm, but you could tell she was soaking everything in—the voices, the warmth, the energy. She wasn’t used to this world, but she fit into it better than you’d expected.

“Alright, y’all, quiet down!” Vivian’s voice rose above the din, commanding attention. The table settled almost instantly, everyone turning toward her.

She stood at the head of the table, a serene yet authoritative presence. “Before we dig in, we’re going to give thanks,” she said, glancing around the room. “Natasha, since this is your first time joining us, I want you to know how happy we are to have you here. Family is everything to us; today, you’re family too.”

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, and she gave a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Mama Viv. That means a lot.”

"Now, in our household, we start with a prayer before Thanksgiving dinner," Vivian said. "I understand that you may not want to participate."

"No, ma'am," Natasha said.

"Well, okay then," Vivian said. "Now, let's bow our heads."

"Bow our heads, everybody," Vivian instructed, and the room obeyed. You noticed that even Natasha bowed her head a little, though her eyes remained open. "Dear Lord, thank you for bringing our family together today."

Natasha observed the room as the prayer went on. This was like a culture study for her. Experiencing a different family dynamic was intriguing.

"I want to thank you for the food and the company. And I pray that our family continues to stay safe and healthy. Amen."

Everyone lifted their heads and said, "Amen."

"Thank you, Mama," Peyton spoke up.

"Thank you, Mom," Brandon agreed.

"Yeah, thank you, Mama," Your brother, Quincy, said.

"Thanks, Mom," You nodded. The food began to be passed around, with everyone choosing which dishes they wanted and didn't want.

"I don't think we've ever had a guest that didn't participate in the prayer," Peyton commented. "Natasha, you were born in Russia, right?"

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly my thing," Natasha said. "I was born in Russia."

"It's not mine either," you said, hoping to diffuse the tension. "I think we all have ways of being thankful, and it's not anyone else's place to judge."

Peyton gave a slight shrug. "I was just curious. No harm meant."

"I get it," Natasha replied.

"You're welcome here, whether or not you believe in God," Vivian assured. "We're all a little different. It's what makes us interesting."

Natasha flashed Vivian a small, appreciative smile. "Thank you, Mama Viv. I appreciate that."

As everyone dug into their plates, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Silverware scraping against plates filled the air, with only snippets of conversation breaking through the hum of family conversation. Your mom, ever the host, ensured no one went without refills, while your siblings kept things lively with playful banter. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Natasha enjoying the food. Some of the menu options were things she hadn't tasted before. It was endearing and a little heartwarming to see her want things.

"So, Natasha," Brandon leaned forward. "I gotta ask—who is the coolest person you've met?"

"Um..." Natasha's expression shifted into something thoughtful. "Well, I've met many interesting people in my life. I wouldn't say anyone was cooler than the other. Maybe the president?"

Brandon frowned. "I was hoping for someone a little more exciting."

"That is exciting," Quincy said.

"What?" Brandon protested.

"She's Black Widow, and you're asking her about who she's met," Quincy replied. "I want to know her stats. I mean, she's a spy. You must do some pretty cool stunts. What's your training regimen like?"

"Oh, come on," You lowered your fork. "Can we just not talk about work right now?"

"It's okay," Natasha smiled, patting your hand.

"I can answer a few questions," She said.

"Oh yeah," Brandon smirked. "How many push-ups can you do?"

"A lot," Natasha shrugged.

"Do you do chin-ups?" Quincy asked.

"Yes," Natasha said.

"I'd like to challenge you to a push-up contest," Quincy wiped his mouth. "You seem tough, but I bet I could take you."

"I could do the same," Brandon said. "We could all have a contest."

"I'm not going to do a push-up contest," Peyton shook her head. "It's Thanksgiving."

"Fine," Quincy shrugged. "Brandon and I can do it."

"I don't think you guys understand what you're challenging her to," You said. You knew firsthand how athletic Natasha was. Her stamina was out of this world both on and off the field.

"She's an Avenger," You said.

"So," Brandon shrugged.

"She's a trained assassin," You explained.

"I'm sure we could hold our own," Quincy countered.

"No, you can't," You shook your head.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Brandon put his hands up. "It sounds like you don't want us to take your girlfriend. Afraid she might fall in love with one of us?"

"I'm right here," Tori pinched Brandon. "Behave."

"Sorry, babe," Brandon muttered.

"No, I'm not worried," You rolled your eyes.

Natasha smirked, her eyes glinting with amusement as she leaned forward slightly. "Yeah, I think you guys should sit this one out," she said, her voice laced with humor but just enough seriousness to get her point across. "No offense, but I’ve been around some pretty intimidating people. I’m not exactly shaking in my boots here."

Quincy feigned a wounded expression. "Ouch. So, we’re not intimidating enough for you?"

"Not in the slightest," Natasha quipped, her smirk widening.

Brandon chuckled, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, fair enough. Guess we’ll stick to arm-wrestling each other and leave the assassin stuff to the pros."

Tori gave Brandon a side-eye but couldn’t help smiling. "Maybe you should worry about behaving before trying to impress Natasha."

You shook your head, unable to keep from laughing. "See? Even Tori knows you two would be hopeless."

Natasha reassured your thigh under the table, leaning in close enough that only you could hear. "I like your family," she murmured softly and sincerely.

You smiled at her, warmth blooming in your chest.

"We like you too," Vivian nodded. “It may be time for these boys to get put in their place.”

"I would like to see it," Peyton muttered.

"After dinner, then," Natasha smiled. "I have one condition if I win."

"What's that?" Quincy asked.

"You guys teach me how to play spades," Natasha suggested.

"Deal," Quincy nodded.

"And if you win, we can take some photos together," Brandon said.

"Fair enough," Natasha said.

"This will be interesting," Vivian commented.

"I know, right," Tori chuckled.

It was settled. Natasha would be challenging your brothers to a push-up contest. She was used to men challenging her to do things. It was in their nature almost.

After the meal, you helped clean up while your siblings gathered in the living room. They were ready for Natasha to kick their asses, and you could barely contain your excitement.

"Willow, you're about to watch your Daddy get beat," You whispered to the toddler.

"Don't count on it," Brandon said. "She won't be so confident when we're finished."

"We'll see," You said, setting the child on the couch.

Ross volunteered to be the referee, clearly enjoying the chaos. "Alright, everyone ready?" he asked, standing over the contestants with exaggerated authority.

Brandon and Quincy dropped to the floor with exaggerated confidence, flexing their arms dramatically to show off. Natasha joined them, calm and focused, her form perfect even before they started.

"Okay," Ross said, his voice booming for no reason. "On my count—one, two, three, go!"

The room filled with exaggerated grunts as your brothers enthusiastically attacked their push-ups, counting out each one loudly. "One, two, three—"

Natasha, meanwhile, moved effortlessly, her breathing even and controlled. You noticed she wasn’t counting out loud, focusing entirely on her form. By the fifteenth push-up, Brandon’s face turned red, and Quincy was already starting to slow down.

“That’s it?” Natasha teased, casually switching to one-handed push-ups without missing a beat.

The room erupted into gasps and laughter. Ross's jaw dropped. "Wait, wait, what?!"

"One hand?" Quincy groaned, struggling to keep his pace. "She’s showing off now."

"Is she even human?" Brandon muttered between labored breaths.

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning against the back of the couch. “Don’t worry, Willow,” you told the toddler watching from her perch. “Your daddy’s about to learn a hard lesson.”

Despite their efforts, Natasha’s movements remained smooth and effortless. Not once did her arms so much as tremble. When Brandon and Quincy finally collapsed in a heap, Natasha was still going strong, with a slight smirk as she pushed through another set.

“Thirty-five… thirty-six…” Ross counted, shaking his head in disbelief.

When she finally stopped, Natasha rose gracefully and brushed herself off as if the entire thing had been a warm-up. "Good effort, boys," she said with a smirk, extending her hand to help Brandon.

"You didn’t even break a sweat!" Quincy protested, sprawled on the floor.

"Maybe next time," Natasha quipped, her tone light but undeniably victorious.

Brandon groaned dramatically, glancing at Willow, who was giggling. "Willow, Daddy did his best," he muttered, defeated.

“She’s my new favorite,” Ross declared, earning laughter from everyone in the room.

You walked over to Natasha, shaking your head with an affectionate smile. “Show-off,” you teased.

She leaned in close enough that only you could hear. “You love it.”

She wasn’t wrong.

**********

Later that night, everyone is tucked into their rooms as you help your mom with the dishes. Natasha had taken an early shower to decompress from such a busy day. She wasn't used to big family affairs like this and needed a moment alone. This gave you time to talk with your mom.

As she washed the dishes, you dried them.

"So, what do you think?" You asked as you placed another place in the cabinet. "Do you like her?"

"She's lovely," Vivian nodded. "You seem happy."

"I am," You confirmed.

"Good," Vivian continued washing the dishes.

"She seems to be fitting in well," You said.

"She is," Vivian said. "She's a sweet girl."

"She is," You agreed.

"Are you sleeping with her?"

"Whoa, Mom," You sputtered. She gave you a knowing look, and you sighed. "Why are you asking?"

"I'm your mother," Vivian said. "It's a valid question. Is she a good partner?"

"Yes, she is," You said.

"She doesn't treat you right; I will come and cut her," Vivian threatened.

"She does treat me right," You insisted.

"Then there shouldn't be a problem with my question," Vivian said.

"She does," You repeated.

"Well, I'm glad," Vivian said.

You nodded, continuing the routine of putting the dishes away.

"So, what's next for you two?"

"Next?" You asked, unsure of what she meant.

"Where do you see the relationship going?" Vivian asked.

"Um," You hadn't thought about it much. "I don't know. We're taking it slow. Just enjoying each other's company."

"But do you think it will be a long-term relationship?" Vivian asked.

"I hope so," You said. "I like her and hope the feeling is mutual."

"Well, if you like her and she likes you, I'm sure it will work out," Vivian said. There was a moment of silence. "I see the way she looks at you. The same way your daddy looked at me."

"You think so?"

"I know so," Vivian smiled. "He always had that twinkle in his eye when he talked about me."

You smiled, finishing the last of the dishes.

"I'm happy for you, baby," Vivian said. "You deserve someone who makes you feel special. Someone who puts a smile on your face."

"I'm glad you approve," You nodded. "She's a good person. I know people have their reservations about her past and..."

"People have their reasons for being judgmental," Vivian said. "You know as well as I do that a lot of the time, people are just scared and misguided."

"Yeah," You nodded.

"Besides, your daddy taught me something important."

"What's that?"

"It doesn't matter where a person came from, just who they are," Vivian answered.

"He taught me the same," You replied.

"I know," Vivian kissed your forehead.

You hugged her, feeling a wave of emotions wash over you.

"Mom," You began.

"Yeah, baby?"

"I miss him," You said.

"So do I," Vivian pulled away. "But, we have to carry on without him."

"You know, Peyton told me how things are going at the laundromat," You began. "If my tuition is too much."

"Baby, you're not giving up school because of me," Vivian said. "The laundromat is fine. We just had a bad few months, is all."

"I'm sure we can figure out a way to increase revenue," You suggested.

"Maybe, but not now," Vivian said. "It'll work itself out. I have a little savings if it comes down to it."

"Well, maybe I can talk to the admissions office," You said. "See about a payment plan or loans."

"We'll figure it out," Vivian reassured. "Don't you worry about it?"

"I'm not worried," You insisted.

"You're a horrible liar," Vivian chuckled. "Now, go check on your girlfriend. It's getting late."

You smiled. "Thanks, mom."

"Anytime," Vivian winked.

******

When you returned to your room, Natasha was out of the shower and curled under the covers. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was deep and even, suggesting she was already asleep.

You smiled, careful not to wake her, as you changed into a pair of pajamas and brushed your teeth. As you crawled into bed beside her, she stirred slightly, cracking one eye open.

"Sorry," you whispered, draping an arm across her waist. "Go back to sleep."

"Everything okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, it's fine," you reassured, resting your head on her shoulder.

"Okay," She closed her eyes.

You pressed a kiss to her jaw, snuggling closer. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," She replied. "Thanks for bringing me here."

"Of course," You whispered.

You lay in the darkness for a while, listening to her breathing and enjoying the warmth of her body. Gradually, your eyelids grew heavy, and you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the safety of her arms.

[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

[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.

[ MINI-SERIES MASTERLIST ] | next ~ under the mistletoe (drabble)

“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)

[justheretodump]

this is going to be dc x danny phantom x miraculous ladybug x spiderman

pt 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

for those who aren't familiar with every show, here's a lore explanation

---

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."

[inkedbydesire]

Layover (18+)

Jalen Hurts x Black Fem Reader

Warning: 18+ Content, detailed storyline with SMUT, MINORS DO NOT ENTER

Summary: As a flight attendant on a layover in Philadelphia, you decide to reach out to an old fling, Jalen Hurts. It's nearly been a year since you last saw him and about four months since your last conversation due to you cutting him off for a relationship that ultimately fell apart. Now reunited you and Jalen effortlessly slip back into familiar ways and spend all night rehashing old feelings and catching up.

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: I don't know shit about football but I was reminded of how fine Jalen Hurts is and this came about. I literally cannot write smut without going into detail about why these people are humping on each other so my bad for the yapping 😂. Anyways I'm sorry for any grammatical errors or typos that I may have missed during my proofreading.

*************************************************

"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen. This is your captain speaking."

Your ears perked up at the pilot's deep voice filling the aircraft. You became immediately alert, not expecting to hear an update so soon. Turning your head slightly to the right, you eyed your co-worker Ronnie, who shrugged at you, equally clueless about what was happening.

"I've just received news from air traffic control, and unfortunately, there's a severe storm moving into our destination airport. This will cause significant delays. As a result, we've been rerouted to Philadelphia, where we'll be staying overnight to wait out the weather. We should arrive within the next 45 minutes."

Your body relaxed again as a chorus of complaints rose from passengers upset about their canceled plans to arrive in New York tonight.

"Bitch, I thought we were going down," Ronnie whispered jokingly, causing you to bite back a laugh. You and Ronnie had been working together for over a year, and his commentary never failed to leave your stomach hurting from laughter. When you first joined Delta Airlines, Ronnie was your lead and showed you the ropes. After traveling to various parts of the world together, you two had built a sibling-like bond. He made your time on the clock so much more bearable.

Approximately 45 minutes later, the plane landed safely in Philadelphia. The airport clock read 9:10 PM. You had planned to be in New York, but with this unexpected layover, you now found yourself in Philly with a whole lot of free time and no clear idea of what to do with it. You and Ronnie decided to part from the rest of the crew and caught a cab to the nearest hotel, the Four Seasons downtown.

"Thank you, Delta," Ronnie giggled as he handed the woman at the front desk the company card. You did the same as you booked your room for the night.

"What are you about to get into Y/N? I know a few people out here in Philly, and I think I'm gonna hit the town before we gotta be out of here in the morning. You're more than welcome to join me," Ronnie told you as you took the elevator up to your rooms.

"Uhh, no thank you. I know somebody out here. I think I'm going to see what they're up to," you replied, your mind wandering briefly to the man you knew lived in Philadelphia.

"Oh... are you sure that she... or he is free tonight?" Ronnie asked, obviously fishing for information as he raised his perfectly arched brows at you.

"I think he might be free, but if not, I'm cool with just chilling in the room for the night," you told him.

"Oooh, okay. Well, bitch, if you do link up with this mystery man, tell me all about it later," Ronnie said as you stepped out of the elevator together.

"I will," you promised with a smile. You two shared a quick hug before parting ways to your separate rooms, which were directly across the hall from each other.

Entering your room, you dropped your duffel bag on the floor and kicked off your shoes. Pulling your phone out of your jacket pocket, you walked to the bed and sat down. A small tinge of nervousness crept in as you thumbed through your messages, scrolling down a few times to locate an old thread that hadn't been updated in months.

You stared at the contact name that read "Jalen" for a beat before sending a quick message that you gave yourself no time to second guess.

You: Hey big head... guess what?

You locked your phone and tossed it on the bed, unsure of when or if Jalen would respond. It had been months since you last spoke and you didn't know how he felt about your abrupt silence.

You and Jalen had been what some would call friends with benefits on and off since your freshman year of college. Back then, neither of you wanted anything serious, so your relationship never extended beyond physical intimacy. Then when you graduated, Jalen got drafted to the NFL and started playing for the Philadelphia Eagles, while you returned home to Atlanta to work towards opening your boutique. Admittedly you and Jalen had developed romantic feelings for each other but the distance and some personal beliefs of your own made even thinking about a serious relationship impossible. But whenever you two reunited, your arrangement remained the same.

The only time you stopped fooling around was when one of you entered a relationship, which never seemed to last long, so you always ended up back in each other's lives. That was until a year ago when you entered a relationship with a guy you grew up with. Everything was going well until he went through your phone and discovered your interactions with Jalen. After grilling you about the nature of the relationship he became extremely uncomfortable with you staying in contact with him and wanted it to stop. It started causing problems in your relationship and you and him argued about it constantly. You thought you were in love so you eventually gave in. You told yourself that if the shoe were on the other foot, you wouldn't be comfortable with your boyfriend being buddy-buddy with someone he used to be intimate with either. So out of respect for him, you slowly stopped communicating with Jalen until there was nothing between you two anymore. Although you missed and cared about Jalen you had convinced yourself that you were doing what you needed to do to have a healthy relationship.

Well, the relationship didn't last and things ended months ago. But you felt terrible for cutting Jalen off causing you to be hesitant about reaching out. But now, finding yourself in Philadelphia for the first time you saw it as a sign to throw an olive branch out to him and hoped that he would accept it.

The buzzing of your phone brought your mind back to the present. You quickly picked it up and breathed out a sigh of relief as you saw that Jalen had surprisingly responded.

Jalen: What? 👀

A smile crept on your lips as you thumbed your response.

You: We had a layover on the way to New York and now I'm stuck in your city for the night.... 🫣

Jalen: Word?? Where you at now?

You: Downtown at the Four Seasons.

5 minutes that felt more like 5 hours went by before his reply.

Jalen: Give me an hour. I'm coming to get you.

You: Okay bet.

You damn near twisted your ankle as you sprung up from the bed.

The thought of seeing Jalen sent a wave of excitement through your body. You missed him deeply and regretted letting someone else dictate your friendship with him. His quick response gave you hope that he wasn't harboring any ill feelings about the situation though.

You only had an hour to make yourself presentable so you rushed over to your duffel bag. You didn't know how Jalen would react to you in person so you decided that you had to look good enough for him to forget about any wrong you may have done.

You rummaged through your bag, pulling out your sexiest matching lingerie set, a barely-there skirt, and a top with a daring neckline. You placed your outfit on the bed before heading to the bathroom to take a brisk shower.

Once you were out of the shower you wrapped yourself in a towel and walked back into the room humming. You grabbed your vanilla and coconut-scented lotion and sat on the edge of the bed to apply it. Once your body was perfectly moisturized you slid into your entire outfit piece by piece. Then you rushed back to the bathroom with about 20 minutes to spare. For your makeup, you decided to stick with a less time-consuming natural beat before quickly shifting to your hair. You were happy that the silk press you got over a week ago was practically still intact as you used your flat iron to smooth out any frizziness.

Then for finishing touches, you sprayed on some perfume before sauntering back into the room.

Just as you were slipping on your heels you heard your phone buzz.

You grabbed it and grinned down at Jalen's "I'm outside" text. Then you picked up your purse before exiting your room. You considered knocking on Ronnie's door to tell him you were heading out but decided to just send him a quick text later on.

The elevator couldn't move fast enough as the anticipation of seeing Jalen had you jittery. Once inside of the lobby you hurriedly stalked out into the night air.

It didn't take long for you to spot the man of the hour casually leaning against his Ford Mustang. And boy was he a sight to behold. Gold hoop earring glinting, chain catching the streetlights, and a dimpled smile that made you want to kick yourself in the ass for not reaching out to him sooner. You couldn't help but take him in as you walked over, noticing that he was doing the same to you.

Butterflies swarmed your stomach as he licked his lips and closed the distance between you.

"Hey stranger," he said, pulling you into a bear hug that momentarily lifted you off your feet, the familiar scent of his favorite cologne enveloping you.

"Happy to see me?" He asked as his hands rested on your hips.

"Yes.....I am" you admitted, stupidly mesmerized by him. It had been so long since you'd seen him in the flesh, and it seemed like every little detail about him was hitting differently tonight. Right now he looked better than he ever did.

"Good. I'm happy to see yo big-headed ass too." he teased with a laugh before opening the car door for you. After climbing in you then watched as he walked around and slid into the driver's seat.

"You had anything to eat out here yet?" he asked before he started the car and pulled onto the road.

"No ... I basically just got here. I texted you a little bit after we landed so I haven't had the chance to do or see much," you explained

"Okay bet. I got you." He said with a grin.

********************************************

"So, what happened?" Jalen shot off the question as you both leaned against the island in the kitchen of his stunning penthouse, which he had excitedly shown you around about 30 minutes earlier. Perched atop a skyscraper in the heart of Philadelphia, a breathtaking view of the city flooded through the floor-to-ceiling windows, captivating you and making it nearly impossible not to glance out at the scenery.

You'd only been in Jalen's presence for a little over an hour now, but time felt like it was moving too fast. The night would be over before you knew it, and you'd be back on a plane tomorrow, traveling away from him, a thought that saddened you since it felt like you just got him back in your life.

"What do you mean?" you asked, picking up the last piece of your Popeyes biscuit and squeezing a bit of honey onto it.

Despite all the good restaurants Jalen raved about as he drove you through the streets of Philly, you two still ended up grabbing food from Popeyes just like you would do back in college. Jalen explained that being with you was special enough for him to slip up on his strict NFL diet. You went along with it, not caring about what or where you ate. You were just thrilled to be around him.

"Well, I know you probably wouldn't be here right now if you were still with ole boy... so what happened? You going M.I.A. on me wasn't enough?"

A pang of guilt washed over you at his words. You had been secretly dreading this moment, which was why you hadn't planned to bring it up yourself. You had hoped Jalen would be so happy to be around you again that he wouldn't feel the need to address it.

Of course, Jalen assumed you stopped talking to him because of your ex and he was absolutely correct. There was no other reason to ghost him.

"Uhhh, he was just very insecure about our relationship. No matter what I did, he didn't believe my heart was fully invested in him," you explained, recalling how it felt as he finished off his chicken and started gathering the trash.

"After a while, it got tiring. I felt like I constantly had to prove myself to him." As you moved over to the sink to wash your hands, Jalen did the same. You then trailed behind him out of the kitchen until you reached the living room.

"So that's what went down... He wanted you to prove yourself by leaving me alone, and you just did it?" Jalen questioned as he sat on the couch and watched you walk over to his eye-catching vinyl collection. Jalen had been collecting vinyl records long before you met him. You were astonished to see how large his collection had grown; it vividly showcased how long it had been since you and he were last physically together.

"It wasn't like that," you said softly, scrutinizing the records and choosing to avoid his gaze because you knew you were lying. It was exactly like that.

"Then what was it like?" Jalen pressed, his voice calm yet laced with genuine curiosity.

"Umm," you began, contemplating how to explain it to him so he would understand your position.

The room fell silent as you located the vinyl you were searching for: Kut Klose's Surrender album, one of your favorites. You put it on the record player and adjusted the volume before walking over to Jalen, who was still watching you intently.

You sat beside him on the couch and turned to face him.

"I was in love or at least I tried to convince myself that I was. At that time, I thought I was doing what I needed to make the relationship work. But it wasn't easy, Jalen. I missed the hell out of you," you expressed to him.

"But think about it, Jalen. If you were in a relationship and she wanted you to leave me alone based on our history... wouldn't you?" you asked hoping he would understand.

"No," he answered without hesitation.

"But relax I'm not tripping, though, Y/N, because I knew no matter what, you would end up exactly where you are right now," he continued before you could respond.

"And where's that?" you asked.

"With me."

"Oh, you think you just got it like that?" you responded jokingly.

"I know I do when it comes to you. And you know you got it like that with me, because you can text me four months after ignoring me, and I would still come running to you."

"We got it like that when it comes to each other," Jalen said, reaching over to gently place his hand on your thigh, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

What you and Jalen had was so selfish and would only leave anyone romantically involved with either of you with their feelings hurt. Two people with deeper feelings for each other had turned into years of sexual conquests, all to stay in each other's lives. Deep down, you both knew that to genuinely find love somewhere else, you had to let each other go.

The only reason you and Jalen weren't together was because of your personal issues. You watched your mom sacrifice her dreams to stand behind your father, who threw it back in her face every chance he got. That caused you to vow to yourself to never be in that position and you refused to sacrifice your goals for love.

So when you met Jalen in college, knowing he was destined for the NFL, you made up your mind that being with him would never work unless you sacrificed part of yourself. You liked living in Atlanta and wanted to remain there while working toward opening your boutique. You almost had the down payment for the building you wanted, and when you discussed being together with Jalen before your last relationship, he had promised to take care of whatever you needed for your boutique if you would just move to Philadelphia. Most women would jump at such an opportunity, especially if they were in love, but you didn't want to put yourself in that position.

Jalen Hurts was the type of man that people assumed a woman should be ready and willing to uproot her life for. After all, he was a famous football player; logically, you should want to be by his side, right? Even your own mother constantly questioned why you weren't with him.

But you just didn't desire that, which is why you and Jalen would most likely never be together. Still, you both ruined opportunities with other chances at love to stay in each other's lives. Your ex wasn't crazy for wanting to keep you from communicating with Jalen. He could sense that something was there, even if he didn't know its true extent. But the truth was you were in love with Jalen, yet hoped that somehow you could learn to love your ex in the same way.

But no one was Jalen and that was the problem you kept running into.

"I missed the hell out of you too, Y/N," Jalen said bringing you from your restless thoughts as he moved closer to you on the couch if that was even possible. As his hand moved from your thigh to snake around your waist you could already tell the direction of where things were heading.

One day you would be strong enough to tell Jalen that it probably would be better for you both if your arrangement ended. That maybe you could maintain some sort of friendship but the sexual intimacy had to stop.

But unfortunately, that would not happen tonight.

Something in you stirred as Jalen's eyes darkened with passion as he leaned in and you fervently welcomed his cotton soft lips against yours. Your whole body completely melted into the kiss knowing that there was no way in the world that you could resist Jalen.

You had never been capable of it.

You pushed aside all of your worries about you and him and instead decided to completely give in to the moment. Your lips parted and your tongue met Jalen's as the kiss grew frantic and sloppy. Jalen's hands were all over your body and yours were tossed around his neck pulling him closer to you. Somehow without breaking the kiss, Jalen managed to stand to his feet pulling you along with him. He then removed his attention from your lips to move over to his record player. He turned the volume up to the max before moving back to you.

"Come on," he told you as he guided you towards the direction of his bedroom as Kut Klose's "Get up on It" blasted in the background.

Somewhere on the stairs, the kissing resumed as you helped each other out of your attires leaving a trail of clothes behind you. By the time you got to Jalen's room, you both were fully naked with nothing but intentions to show the other how much they were truly missed.

Falling onto Jalen's bed you could still hear Kut Klose faintly as you scooted up to rest your head on his pillows as he mounted you. You and Jalen stared into each other's eyes for a spell. The way looked down at you caused your heartbeat to quicken as if you hadn't been in this position tons of times before. But for some reason, every single time with Jalen felt like the very first time.

Jalen broke the eye contact by placing a peck on your lips before moving down to your neck and trailing kisses down until he reached your chest. He gently bit down your left nipple before circling it with his tongue causing a shiver to shoot down your spine. As he moved to show some attention to your right nipple you felt his hand on your thigh as he slowly moved it down until he reached your bottom.

"Ummmm" you moaned as he slowly moved his fingers over your clit coating them in your wetness.

"Fuck, why you this wet for me Y/N? Huh?" Jalen asked you as he ran his fingers down to your entrance and back over your clit again. You responded in a moan to his rhetorical question not having the capacity to form coherent sentences as he eased two fingers into you. You watched as he pulled those fingers out brought them to his mouth and licked his fingers clean.

"Jalen wait," you told him as he dropped his head back down and you knew what he had intentions of doing. You could no longer fight off the desperate urge to do the same thing. You pulled him back up to you and told him to lay on his back and then moved on top of him in the 69 position.

Jalen didn't waste anything locating your clit with his tongue as you turned your attention to what was the most addictive part of his body.

His dick.

You took it into your hand and stroked it up and down as your mouth watered at just the thought of having it down your throat. You felt Jalen moan against you as you started at the base of his dick and ran your tongue up to the tip. You took the tip into your mouth and tranced it with your tongue as you dripped saliva down his length.

Then you took his full length into your mouth just like he taught you back in college. You tried to focus on maneuvering him in and out of your mouth as you felt your own climax nearing rapidly. Jalen was showing special deliberate attention to your clit trying to get you to break before he did. Anytime you two got in this position it always turned into a competition of who could make the other cum first. Jalen had a 70 percent winning record to your 30 because most of the time he always got you to break before he did.

Jalen started sucking on your clit with just the right amount of pressure as you fought hard against the urge to grind against his mouth. As you bobbed your head up and down on his dick you felt your peak in your toes then darting up your legs. As you begin to shake from trying to fight it off so hard you knew that you were up against a losing battle.

Jalen's dick flopped out of your mouth and you went back to stroking it as your climax reached the pit of your stomach.

"J-Jalen ..... fuck" you muttered as you uncontrollably came into his mouth. Your body twitched as Jalen continued to slurp on your juices until he sucked you clean. Then you weakly moved until your lips were on Jalen's again and you could taste yourself on his tongue. After sloppily making out for a minute Jalen stood up and pulled you to the edge of the bed.

"You know what to do," he told you and the tone of his voice damn near made you cum again. Jalen leaned down and gave you one last kiss before you moved onto your stomach and pulled your knees up. You positioned yourself into the perfect arch as you felt Jalen's hands move to your hips.

He grabbed you tightly and you both moaned simultaneously as he eased into your welcoming entrance. He fit inside of you like a glove almost like you were perfectly designed to be wrapped around his dick.

Jalen started with slow deep strokes that you could feel in the pit of your stomach. The type of strokes that had you gasping for air with the white of your knuckles showing as you gripped his comforter. Not messing up the rhythm Jalen caused you to whimper as he placed one foot on the edge of the bed to angle himself even deeper into you.

"Who you know fuck you like me Y/N?" Jalen asked as he effortlessly switched to a faster pace.

"Who you know have you creaming on they dick like this?" He shot another question at you that you could barely concentrate on because your whole mind and body were so focused on how good he felt inside of you.

"Huh?" Jalen asked before sending a sharp smack to one of your ass cheeks indicating that he was sneaking an answer from you.

"Huh?" He repeated.

"Only y-you Jalen" you dug deep and pushed out.

"Only you Jalen" you repeated clearly as you angled your head to make eye contact with him.

"Don't nobody fuck me like you" You told him softly. You guess it did something to him because he paused and closed his eyes for a second like he was trying not to cum. You took this as an opportunity to get even for earlier and started throwing it back on his dick.

"Fuck .... Y/N" he breathed as he opened his eyes and you watched as he looked down at how your walls were handling him. He looked so good as he watched you fuck him that before you knew it you felt yourself about to cum again. Knowing the familiar shake of your body when you were close to your end, Jalen took advantage of this by reaching down and caressing your clit. No lie, it took only a minute of that before you felt yourself making a wet mess all over Jalen's dick and you were mad at yourself for not holding on longer. He climaxed seconds later and shot his nut into you immediately making you think of whether it would be possible to get a Plan B before catching tomorrow's flight.

[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.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

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Vigilance: The Outtakes - Rekindled

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[bexxa12]

STUDIO SECRETS|| JJ x Y/N

{Summary}

Jungkook, a musical prodigy whose voice captivates millions, finds himself drawn into a world beyond the spotlight. His path crosses with the enigmatic daughter of his esteemed producer, a woman whose secrets run as deep as the melodies he crafts.

Chapter 5

WC: 2,161

The flight was a blur of case notes and turbulent thoughts. Y/N's mind raced with the gravity of the upcoming trial.

The plane's gentle descent into Busan's Gimhae International Airport brought her back to reality. The early morning sun painted the city in soft pastels, a stark contrast to the harsh fluorescents of the Seoul office. 

The warmth of the cabin dissipated as she stepped into the brisk air of the coastal city. The scent of the sea mingled with the crispness of the dawn, a refreshing change from the stale air of the flight.

Her driver, a stoic man in a black suit, held a sign with her name neatly printed on a white card. He nodded curtly as she approached, his eyes never leaving her. She couldn't help but feel a touch of nervousness under his scrutiny. 

As they made their way through the quiet streets, the city began to wake up, the soft hum of early morning traffic a gentle crescendo to the silence of the night. The hotel loomed into view, a sleek tower of glass and steel, a stark contrast to the cosy, familiar streets she'd left behind. 

The lobby was a study in modern luxury, with a minimalist aesthetic that somehow managed to be both welcoming and intimidating. Y/N's heels clicked on the marble floor as she followed the bellhop to the elevator, her briefcase feeling heavier with every step. 

The ride up was quick, the city shrinking below her until it was nothing more than a quilt of lights. When the doors slid open, she stepped into a plush hallway that seemed to stretch on forever, the only sound the muffled whispers of the hotel's hidden life.

The room was a sanctuary of calm, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only intrusion on the silence. Y/N dropped her bags by the door and took a moment to breathe, the weight of the case file in her briefcase feeling like it had transferred to her shoulders. 

She walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, her reflection staring back at her, a tired but determined young woman ready to conquer the world.

The view was breath taking, the sea stretching out like a vast canvas painted in the soft hues of the early morning. The horizon was a blur of colours, a promise of a new day, a new challenge. Her heart swelled with excitement and nerves as she thought about the high-profile murder case that awaited her.

Y/N unpacked her suitcase methodically, her mind racing through the list of tasks she had ahead. Each item she laid out had a purpose, a role to play in her quest for justice. She hung her suits with care, the crisp fabric whispering a promise of professionalism. The sight of her neatly arranged work clothes brought a sense of order to the chaos of her thoughts.

Her phone buzzed, jolting her out of her thoughts. It was a message from her father, reminding her to eat something before diving into work. 

With a sigh, she called room service and ordered a simple breakfast of toast and eggs, the comfort food of her childhood. 

As she waited, she couldn't help but think about Jungkook, about the weariness in his eyes as he navigated the airport's gauntlet of flashing lights and intrusive questions.

The knock on the door startled her, and she jumped to her feet, her heart racing. It was just room service, a young man with a tray laden with her breakfast. He set it down with a polite smile, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness. 

The silence of the hotel room was deafening once the door clicked shut behind him.

Y/N took a deep breath and forced herself to eat, the food a comforting reminder of home. She could almost hear her mother's voice telling her to eat up, to keep her strength up.

The eggs were perfect, just the way she liked them, and the toast was warm and crunchy. Yet, even as she savoured each bite, her mind remained sharp, slicing through the legal jargon and the facts of the case.

Once she'd finished, she showered and changed into her first suit of the trip, a sleek, black number that made her feel like a warrior ready for battle. The mirror reflected a confident, capable woman, the kind her father had always believed her to be. 

Y/N took one last look before grabbing her briefcase and heading out, her heels clicking a rhythm of determination on the marble floor.

The drive to the law firm was a whirlwind of unfamiliar streets and the salty scent of the sea. The office was a stark contrast to the hotel, a nondescript building nestled between a convenience store and a coffee shop. 

The interior was a maze of cubicles and closed doors, the air thick with the scent of coffee and stress. She was ushered into a small, windowless room filled with boxes of documents and a single, worn-out desk. This was to be her base for the foreseeable future.

Her team was a mix of seasoned veterans and young, eager faces. They greeted her with a mix of respect and curiosity, whispering her name as if it were a password to some secret society. Y/N felt a shiver of excitement run down her spine.

This was it. Her moment to shine.

The lead prosecutor, Mr. Park, was a man with a reputation that preceded him. His stern gaze swept over her as she entered the conference room, his expression unreadable. He was a man of few words, but when he spoke, everyone listened. 

His briefing was succinct and to the point, laying out the grim details of the murder case that had shaken the city of Busan to its core.

Lyle Castellanos, a prominent businessman, had been found in his penthouse, brutally stabbed to death. The evidence was damning, but the motive was as murky as the waters of the Busan harbour. 

Y/N took furious notes, her mind racing with questions. Who would benefit from Castellanos's death? Was it a crime of passion or a calculated move in the cutthroat world of business?

The suspects ranged from his scorned lover to his disgruntled employees to his rival companies. Each had their own web of alibis and motives, a tangled knot that she would have to unravel. 

The stakes were high; the case had captured the nation's attention, and the senior partner's expectations were clear. Y/N had to win this one, not just for her career, but for her father's pride.

The rest of the day was a blur of meetings and strategy sessions, the walls closing in with every passing hour. Yet, as the sun began to set, painting the sky with a palette of fiery reds and oranges, she found herself oddly at peace. 

The office windows framed a view of the bustling city, the distant sound of the port's activity a gentle reminder of the world beyond the case files.

As she left the office, the cool evening air kissed her skin, a refreshing embrace after the day's battle. The streets of Busan were alive, the neon lights and chatter of passersby a stark contrast to the sterile silence of the hotel.

Jungkook's flight had landed hours ago, and as this driver weaved through the familiar streets, his heart swelled with a bittersweet nostalgia. The sight of the bustling marketplaces and the comforting aroma of street food brought back a flood of memories. 

When he finally stepped out of the car and onto the well-worn path leading to his childhood home, his anticipation was palpable. 

The house looked smaller than he remembered, but it was as if it had been painted with a warm glow, welcoming him back with open arms. He took a deep breath, savouring the scent of the sea breeze that carried the promise of comfort and belonging.

Jungkook's hand hovered over the doorbell, his heart racing like the first beat of a new song. He could almost hear the echoes of his past, the laughter and love that had filled these walls. With a gentle push, the chime rang through the house, and he felt the weight of his career slip away, replaced by a simple, profound yearning for home.

The door swung open, and there she was, his mother, her eyes widening with joy as she took in the sight of her son.

The warm embrace that followed was like a lullaby, soothing the ragged edges of his soul. Her scent of homemade kimchi and comfort wrapped around him like a warm blanket, reminding him of the unconditional love that waited for him here.

The house was a time capsule, unchanged from his last visit, the walls lined with family portraits and childhood trophies. The chaos was a symphony, a beautiful reminder of the life he had left behind in the pursuit of stardom.

His mother's kitchen was a warm sanctuary, the air thick with the aroma of kimchi jjigae simmering on the stove. 

The familiar clatter of pots and pans, the sizzle of ingredients hitting the hot pan, was music to his soul. He watched her, her movements efficient yet filled with love as she stirred the pot, her eyes never leaving him. She asked about his life in Seoul, his band, his music.

The rest of the evening was spent sharing stories, the laughter and warmth filling the void that fame had left behind. Jungkook felt a sense of belonging, a reminder of who he was before the lights and the cameras had become his constant companions. 

As the night grew late, he excused himself to his old room, the one he had not slept in for too long. 

The sight of his old bed, the posters of his childhood heroes still adorning the walls, brought a smile to his face. He unpacked his suitcase, placing his clothes in the drawers with a sense of comfort that was foreign in the city that never slept.

As he pulled out his phone to charge it for the night, a message from a familiar number popped up on his screen. It was from his childhood friend, Yoo-Jiin. 

"You're back!" it read, followed by a series of smiley faces. Jungkook felt a rush of excitement; it had been too long since they had last seen each other. 

Yoo-Jin proposed a reunion dinner tomorrow night, suggesting they catch up over some of their favourite street food and a couple of drinks. The thought of escaping the spotlight for just a few hours was tantalizing, a taste of freedom he hadn't experienced in a long time.

With a smile, Jungkook typed out his reply, agreeing to the meet-up. The anticipation grew within him like a chorus of cheerful notes. He hadn't had a night out like this since before his debut, a time when he could be just Jungkook, not the star of a world-famous boy band.

He quickly texted his manager to inform him of his plans, asking for a low-profile exit and minimal security.

The manager, ever understanding, assured him that it would be arranged. Jungkook could feel the burden of his celebrity status lift slightly, the thought of a night of anonymity a rare luxury. 

As he set his phone aside, the quiet hum of the old house lulled him into a sense of peace. He took a moment to breathe in the scent of home, a blend of the sea breeze that wafted in through the open window and the faint aroma of the dinner his mother had prepared.

The next day, Jungkook tried to keep his visit low-profile, spending time with his family and helping out around the house. His mother watched him with a knowing smile, her eyes filled with a mix of pride and concern. 

She had always worried about him, living that fast-paced life in the city, and she was grateful for this unexpected chance to reconnect.

Y/N, on the other hand, was thrown into the deep end of her high-profile case.

The office was a whirlwind of activity, with phones ringing off the hook and lawyers rushing to and fro, their heels clacking on the tiles like a staccato beat. Despite the chaos, she found a rhythm, her mind a finely tuned instrument sifting through the evidence and witness statements.

As the day dragged on, she felt the pressure building, the weight of her newfound responsibility pressing down on her shoulders. It was during a brief respite for coffee that she bumped into Min-Ji, a junior prosecutor with a sharp mind and a penchant for dramatic storytelling.

Min-Ji's eyes lit up when she saw Y/N, and before she knew it, she had been roped into an invitation for drinks after work.

Y/N hesitated, her mind already racing with the tasks she needed to complete, but the other woman's enthusiasm was infectious. 

"Come on," Min-Ji coaxed, "you've got to unwind. You can't work all day and night without a break. Plus it will be a little welcome moment to mark the start of your journey in Busan." With a sigh, Y/N found herself nodding, the promise of a few hours of normalcy too tempting to resist.

[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.

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