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krirebr · 4 months ago

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More Than This 8

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~9.5k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, fighting, my own rampant abuse of italics and en dashes, the slooowest burn, family drama - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Ohhhhhhhh boy. Getting this update in right under the six month wire. I'm so sorry this one took so long, you guys. I had to drag this chapter out of me. But uh, it's horrifically long, so that's something?

And, I know I keep saying that we're about to start a happier part of this story and then deliver a bucketful of angst, and yeah, whoops, I've done that again. I should just stop making promises, huh?

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who has spent the last almost six months talking this one through with me. And to @bigtreefest who was so great with the encouragement and gut checks and did a quick beta of this chapter! But, of course, all mistakes are my own.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too! As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

The rest of the day was quiet. Calmer, more settled than you were used to. After having gotten everything out into the open, it was so much easier to acknowledge Ransom’s presence, to coexist with him. You hadn’t fully realized how much you’d been holding your breath until you could suddenly breathe freely. It was a wild feeling.

Once you were all cried out, Ransom turned on the TV, turning it to the classic movie channel. That was how you learned he loved old movies. “Grandad and I used to watch them together. When I was a kid,” he said quietly. He didn't volunteer any other information and you didn't ask. But you watched the old noir with him.

One movie turned into two and soon the whole afternoon was gone. It had been… comfortable, in a way you’d never expected to be with him. Neither of you had said much, but the silence hadn’t been stifling in the way it’d been even just the day before. For the first time since you’d gotten here, you felt something a lot like hope.

He made two arrangements while sitting with you on the couch. The first was for movers to come to collect his gym equipment the next day so that your new room would be empty when your things arrived in a couple of days.

You were made aware of the second when you received a text from him. You looked up in confusion. You were sitting right next to each other. He chuckled lightly. “That’s the number to your new car service. Call it, let them know where you’re going, and a car should be here within half an hour.”

You stared at the number. Holy shit, you’d be able to go places. You felt silly for how emotional you suddenly felt, but it was like your entire world was expanding in real time. It felt like fresh oxygen in your lungs. “Thank you,” you said quietly.

He just nodded in response. “After you’ve used that for a while, we can talk about whether a private driver might be more appropriate. If that’s what you need.”

You looked at your phone again. This was proof in your hands that you could tell Ransom what you needed and he would do what he could to help you get it. That he wasn’t the enemy you’d assumed he was. You could feel the tears starting to gather in your eyes and you took a deep breath to try to quell them without calling attention to your state.

Ransom, of course, noticed anyway. “Is that not ok?” he asked quietly.

You shook your head. “No, it’s perfect. Seriously, thank you. I’m sorry, I just–” You had no idea what to say to him, how to explain yourself. As good and necessary as the last several hours had been, he was still a stranger. And as much as he’d demonstrated a willingness to help you, that didn’t mean he wanted you getting your messy emotions all over him. “Sorry,” you said again, “I’m just emotional today. Hormones probably. I’m afraid you’re going to be dealing with this for the next nine months.” You grimaced in what you hoped was a playful manner as you tried to wipe the tears from your eyes.

He remained serious, concerned. “I think I can handle it,” he said, his tone still so soft. But if you looked very carefully, you thought that you might be able to see a hint of panic in his eyes. You didn’t know if it was for the havoc that your pregnancy hormones might wreak or everything that would come after. You didn’t ask. You knew you wouldn’t be able to answer the question for yourself either. So you turned back to the movie.

At some point, you both started to get hungry, so Ransom ordered takeout. As you ate, you asked a few questions about the sorts of movies he liked, grateful for a safe topic to fill the silence. You certainly wouldn’t call him verbose, but you learned that he had a soft spot for Billy Wilder movies. You wouldn’t really say the conversation flowed, either, but your questions didn’t seem unwelcome. It was nice. He was starting to feel like a real person.

When you were done, you cleaned up the leftovers together, packing them up and putting them away in the fridge. It was while you were doing that that the doorbell suddenly rang. You both looked up, confused. “If that’s fucking Linda, I swear…” Ransom grumbled.

“She never rings the doorbell when it’s just me here,” you griped. You continued putting things away, sticking your head in the fridge as Ransom went to get the door. Then everything happened so fast.

First, you heard Lola yipping excitedly. As you started to turn around to see what was going on with her, Ransom asked “What are you doing here?!” And then–

And then Ransom was on the ground, clutching his jaw, and Steve was looming over him, his hand still in a fist.

“What the shit?!” Ransom ground out.

Steve’s eyes flitted around wildly until they landed on you. He sighed in relief, clearly doing a quick check as he looked at you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone so much gentler than his posture.

“Am I– What– What are you doing here? I don't–” You felt like you couldn’t process anything that was happening. How was he here?? Your gaze caught on your husband, still on the floor. “Oh my god, Ransom!” You dropped to your knees next to him. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I–” he started, then carefully flexed his jaw, “Fucking shit. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Your hand hovered uselessly between you as he slowly stood up. You turned back to Steve, who had stepped fully into the house, closing the door behind him, and now had Lola in his arms, softly greeting her as she snuggled into him adoringly.

“Steve, what are you–” you started but then you saw the suitcase at his feet. “Are you staying here?!”

Steve finally turned his attention away from Lola. “Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously, with a challenging glare to Ransom.

You sighed helplessly. “There’s no guest room…”

“Yeah,” Ransom grumbled as he rifled through the freezer until he pulled out an icepack, “as thrilled as we are to see you, we do have hotels here. You might be more comfortable in one.” The icy coldness that filled the room wasn’t just from the open freezer.

Steve took an aggressive step forward. “And leave you alone with my sister for even one more day? I don’t think so. I’ll be just fine on the couch. I’m easy like that.”

“Steve–” you tried but you were quickly interrupted.

“Really? You’re here for your step-sister? That’s interesting because my understanding is that you haven’t had much time for her lately,” Ransom said snidely.

Steve started to puff up in a way that was much too familiar from the playground fights of your childhood. “Oh my god!” you yelled. “Stop! Both of you!” You briefly put your head in your hands and took a deep breath, then one more. You straightened yourself and tried to deal with one of the fifteen problems at hand. “Ok, I, uh, I guess I’ll see about making up the couch,” you said, then stomped your way upstairs to the linen closet.

Steve followed close behind you, still carrying around Lola. “You know,” he said, his tone teasing, “you haven’t actually said ‘hello’ to me yet.”

“No,” you growled, as you looked through the closet without turning around to look at him, “I guess I haven’t.”

He pulled your arm lightly. “Hey, come on,” he said. “I’ll help pull this stuff together if you tell me where to look. We both know Ransom’s just gonna let you do all the work.”

That earned you finally turning to face him. “Well, he did just get punched in the face, so I think he’s a little more concerned with that than making you feel comfortable right now.”

Steve’s face scrunched up. “Wait. Are you mad at me?”

“Am I mad at you? Well, let's see. You showed up unannounced and punched my husband in the face. Yeah! I'm a little mad at you!”

“He deserved it,” he growled.

“How would you know?!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You sighed. You did not have the energy for this. And where were all the blankets? You remembered the pile currently in the corner of the gym. Right. You turned around and walked down the hall to your makeshift bedroom, Steve still on your heels. As soon as you walked in, he stopped, putting Lola down. “The fuck is this?” he asked, harshly, his hands on his hips. You realized your mistake immediately. His eyes scanned the cushions and blankets set up, the exercise equipment still there, your few possessions strewn about. “Is this where you sleep?”

“No! Just last night.”

“Why did you need to sleep here last night?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

It felt like a trap. If you told him you’d panicked and needed some space, he would ask why. Steve never dropped anything. And you just could not tell him you were pregnant right now. It was the absolute worst time for that. But you didn’t know how else to answer his question. “I just needed a little space.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you. God, you hated being the focus of that look. It was the look he gave you when you scratched his car when you were 16, or when you were 18 and he had to pick you up from a party at 2 AM and wouldn’t tell him what had happened. It was the look you got when you were little and used to steal his paintbrushes so he couldn’t paint and he’d have to hang out with you. You’d hated that look since you were six years old. “Why are you here, Steve?”

He just shook his head for a moment. “You sounded so sad and tired this morning. And I’m just so sick of not being able to see you, not being able to tell what’s wrong.” He took a deep breath. “Not being able to protect you.”

“Steve,” was all you could say at first. Then you couldn’t help yourself anymore. You launched yourself at him and wrapped him in a big hug. He was a fucking idiot. You couldn’t believe he’d punched Ransom. You were so mad about that. But he was your fucking brother and you’d missed him so much.

He hugged you back tightly. “It’s so fucking good to see you, Chipmunk,” he murmured into your hair.

You stood there, savoring the closeness for as long as you both were able, and then you pulled away and stared down at the mound of blankets and cushions. The big couch downstairs had been pulled apart the night before to give you a place to sleep. That severely limited the options for Steve. You sighed. “I guess it would make the most sense to put you in here.”

“And where would you sleep?” he asked, his tone taking on an aggressive edge, aimed at the man downstairs, you knew.

“I’d go back to the bedroom,” you said, with a put-on casualness like you weren’t aware of the fight that was about to happen.

“Absolutely not,” Steve said firmly.

“Oh my god, Steve! You can’t control where I sleep!” you said, throwing your hands in the air.

“The whole reason I’m here is to make sure you’re ok and that he can’t hurt you! I’m not gonna do something that puts you back in his space!”

“Steve, I don’t need that! He isn’t doing anything!”

“Then why did you text me? Why were you crying?!”

You did not have the energy for the conversation that would answer that question, so all you could do was glare at him, which he answered with a confrontational jut of his chin. The two of you just stood there locked in a staredown until Steve muttered, “What sort of grown man doesn’t have anywhere for guests, anyway?”

“The sort that likes an excuse to stop people from staying at his house,” Ransom said pointedly from the doorway, startling you both. “What exactly do you think I’d do, with you right across the hall? I’ve already gotten a taste of how you solve problems,” he said to Steve, gesturing with the ice pack still held to his face. Then, much softer, to you, he said, “I know you want your own space, but you’re more than welcome to share the bed until your stuff gets here. That’s all I wanted to say.” Then he turned around and walked into his bedroom, Lola scampering behind him, ready for bed.

You stared after him, unable to parse the feelings bubbling up inside you. He’d been so different lately. Or maybe you were just finally looking.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Steve asking “Your stuff?”

You turned your attention back to him. He was watching you too carefully. “Mhmm,” you hummed, trying to feign nonchalance. “I’m having my bedroom furniture shipped here. I’m turning this into my room.” He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to ask too many questions probably so you cut him off. “It’s been a really long couple of days, Steve. I’m tired. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

He set his jaw. You could tell he wanted to fight you. Force you to talk to him. But you held your ground, looked him in the eye with a hint of challenge, and eventually he deflated, just a bit. “Yeah, okay,” he relented before he pulled you into another crushing hug. You’d really missed his hugs.

“I am happy to see you,” you whispered.

“Me too, Chip,” he whispered right back.

After making sure he had everything he needed, you left Steve alone with a quiet “goodnight,” and made your way back to Ransom’s bedroom. He and Lola were already snuggled in bed, snoring softly. You quickly went through your bedtime routine and then joined them, very careful not to wake either of them. After how eventful and emotionally wrought the last few days had been, it didn’t take you long at all to drift off into sleep.

You woke up in the morning pressed up against Ransom, face to face, your feet tangled together, Lola on your legs. You carefully pushed yourself away, watching him warily to see if he roused at all. Thankfully he didn't. You were sure he wouldn't be thrilled with how close you'd both gotten in the night.

You quietly got up and let yourself out of the bedroom, a now wide-awake Lola at your heels. The door to the gym was open and the room was empty, Steve’s suitcase wide open on the floor next to the nest of cushions and blankets. You didn’t hear anyone moving around downstairs, so he was out on a run, most likely.

You headed down to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, then started looking through the fridge for the leftovers from the previous morning. As you were doing that, a creak on the stairs let you know Ransom was joining you.

“Morning,” he said, voice scratchy from disuse. He went to the coffee maker and just stood in front of it, waiting for the pot to finish.

“Morning,” you said from inside the fridge. You found the leftovers and closed the appliance, finally turning to him with a gasp. You put the food down on the counter and went to Ransom. “Oh my god, your face!” A large bruise in a deep shade of purple took up most of the left side of his face, centered on his jaw and cheekbone. You rushed to his side and without thinking, extended a hand to touch him before you realized what you were doing and pulled back at the last minute, embarrassed.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he mumbled, his attention still fixed on the coffee slowly dripping into the carafe.

You stared at him for another moment, before you just couldn’t keep your feelings inside anymore. “I’m so sorry,” you said softly.

He finally looked at you at that. “What do you have to be sorry for?” he asked.

So much, you thought to yourself, maybe, probably. But for right now, in this instance, you just shrugged. “He’s my brother,” you said, a little helplessly.

“Did you tell him to punch me?” he asked as he decided he’d waited long enough and filled his mug.

“What? No!”

“Then there’s nothing to apologize for.” He leaned back against the counter as he sipped his coffee. “Where is your brother?”

“On a run, probably,” you said, now helping yourself to a mug and fixing it up how you liked.

Ransom scoffed. “Of course, he is.” He looked at you carefully for a long moment and you struggled not to squirm under his gaze. “You happy he’s here?”

“Of course!” you said, too quickly. He kept looking at you. “I mean, I didn’t invite him here, so�� It was just a surprise. I don’t know. He’s very protective, you know?” Ransom raised an eyebrow and you couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. “Right, yeah. He just– Sometimes, he just– he decides what’s right. And then there’s no changing his mind.”

He made a little hum, then nodded and said, “Yeah, I know. I have met him before. But why are you worried about that?”

“Uh, he just, he isn’t always a good listener. And he’s gonna have a lot of questions for me today. I know he will. And I don’t know how I’ll answer any of them without telling him about the– that I’m pregnant.”

“And you don’t want to?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly soft.

“No, that’s not exactly– I just–” you sighed. “This isn’t what he ever wanted for me.”

Ransom made a small noise of understanding. “You think he’ll be disappointed in you.”

There was no judgment in his tone, but it still made you shrink in on yourself a little. You nodded.

“Listen, it’s no secret that I think he’s a sanctimonious asshole.” You opened your mouth to start defending Steve, but Ransom shook his head. “Let me finish. It’s clear that he loves you. I think you’ll be ok. And if he does give you shit, well, it’ll be just one of a few things he’s done to earn himself a punch.”

“Oh god, Ransom no, please don’t do that.”

He grinned at you. “Nah, I won’t. Some of us have self-control. I know him being here is important to you. I’ll try not to do anything to mess that up.”

You wondered if the warm feelings spreading through you would always be such a surprise. If he would always be such a surprise.

“But,” he continued before he paused to drain his mug. “I am going to try to get out of here before he gets back.”

“This is your house. You don’t need to do that.”

“It’s fine,” he said quietly, “you should have a nice day with your brother.” Then he put his mug in the dishwasher and went back upstairs to get dressed, with you staring after him.

Ransom left and, sure enough, Steve got back a few minutes later. He went straight to the shower and you tried to busy yourself and calm your nerves while you waited for the inevitable conversation.

When he came down, his hair was still wet and he was dressed in jeans and a plain white tee. There was nothing casual about his demeanor though.

“So,” he said, sitting down next to you in the kitchen, “you ready to tell me what’s been going on here?”

You started to get up. “Do you want some breakfast first? We have some pastries left over from yesterday.”

He grabbed your arm and pulled you back down into your chair. “No, I want to know why you've sounded so upset every time I’ve talked to you since the wedding.”

You squirmed under his sharp gaze. You knew him. You knew that he wouldn’t give up until you told him everything. But you also knew how awful his reaction would be and you just weren’t ready to give everything up. “It’s just been a lot of change, you know? Of course, it’s been hard. I’m just… adjusting. It’s been an adjustment period.”

“Adjusting to what, exactly?”

“To marriage! To living in a new place! You know, the obvious.”

“The obvious is why you always sound like you’ve been crying?”

You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands in frustration. “You know me,” you tried. “I’m emotional.”

“You’re emotional?! Is that what he says to you?” Shit, he was already getting angry and you hadn’t even told him anything yet.

“No! God, Steve. That’s not what I’m saying! I’m just trying to say that it’s been a difficult transition, but I’m starting to feel better about it.”

“And I’m asking you to tell me exactly what about it has been difficult.”

You wanted to growl. Once he got an idea in his head, he was so fucking intractable. “What’s been difficult about moving across the country to a brand new city and living with a stranger??”

“Yes. Exactly. In detail please.” And then he just stared at you and you wanted to scream.

“I’ve been a little lonely,” you conceded, hoping a partial truth might satisfy him. “Ransom has to work a lot and it’s been hard to know what to do with my time.” And then, without giving him time to react, you asked. “How about you? How are you? Now that I’m out of the way, is Joseph trying to set up matches for you?” It was a low blow, but you were grasping for any defense you could reach.

“I don't understand why you won't just tell me what's going on.”

“I'm trying! It's just a lot more complicated than you realize and I think that maybe once you're in an arrangement of your own–”

“My marriage won't be anything like this.”

At first, all you could do was gape at him. Then you just sighed. “I don’t think,” you started slowly, “that you can have any idea what a marriage like this is really like until you’re inside of it, Steve.”

He shook his head. “I know what sort of man I am,” he said confidently. “I know how I’ll treat my wife.” And you saw it then, the pity in his eyes, and everything in you bristled.

Sanctimonious. That was the word Ransom had used. You loved your step-brother so much. You’d defend him to the end of the world and back. But he really could be such an asshole sometimes. And seeing him now, like this, you could understand why someone like Ransom might hate him.

“Well,” you said, trying so hard to keep your voice even, “you’ll be lucky then. To have such an easy go of it. I hope you don’t find that it’s harder than it looks. That appearances can be deceiving.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “That’s why I’m asking you to tell me. I don’t understand why you won’t.”

“Because I know you won’t listen! You’ve already decided what’s going on here!”

“Well, it seems pretty obvious! I know you, and I certainly know him. So yeah, when you’re crying every time I talk to you and you send me cryptic texts wishing I was here, yeah, I think I have a pretty good guess about what’s been going on.”

“You’re so frustrating,” you growled a little. Then you sighed. It was inevitable. You knew it. At this point, you just wanted to get it over with. “Ok. Fine. But you have to actually listen to me, ok? Like, to what I’m actually saying. You can’t just jump to conclusions. Okay? I’m serious.”

“Chip, yes, of course. I’ll always listen to you.”

You took a deep, fortifying breath. “It’s been– It’s been really hard here. I’ve been on my own almost the whole time and it’s just been really lonely. You just– you can’t know what it’s like to be married to a stranger. We haven’t known how to talk to each other and I just– It’s been really hard for both of us.” At that, Steve scoffed, but you couldn’t stop now, you had to get this out. “Anyway, um, a few days ago I learned some news, that was–” You paused to try to find the right word. You had no idea how to classify it. It wasn’t upsetting, per se, but what other word was there? “And then Ransom found out and that’s when I texted you. And slept in the gym.”

“What was the news?” Steve asked, gravely. He was looking at you so intently. You really didn’t want to do this, but you knew you had to.

You looked off into the corner of the room, unable to get this out and meet his eyes at the same time. “I’m pregnant,” you said quietly.

Steve stood up so abruptly that you couldn’t help but jump. “I’m gonna fucking kill him,” he actually snarled. You’d never heard his voice do that before.

“Steve, please,” you started, both hands out in a placating manner. “Please, can you calm down so we can talk about this?”

But, of course, he ignored you. “Where is he?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, helplessly. “He’s out. I don’t, I don’t know where.”

Steve didn’t say anything, just clenched his jaw and stood rigidly, his hands on his hips. You could practically see the untapped adrenaline coursing through him.

“Can you please just sit down?” you pleaded. “Just take a deep breath and sit down and we can–”

“I’m going for a run,” he said, curtly, then turned on his heel and walked towards the door.

“But you just got back from one!” you called after him. He wasn’t even dressed for a run. But that apparently didn’t matter. He was gone.

You just sat there for a moment, completely lost, with no idea what to do. Then you got your phone out and texted Ransom.

He knows

Don’t come back for a few hours, I think. He needs time to calm down. I’m sorry.

The checkmark showing he’d seen your message appeared almost immediately, quickly followed by the three dots that showed he was typing, but then those disappeared. A few moments later they came back but quickly disappeared again. No response ever came.

The men from the storage company came to take Ransom’s gym equipment away. You threw yourself into directing them, happy to have a distraction from worrying about where Steve was, what he was feeling. But then they were done, the room was empty, and Steve was still gone.

Ransom got back first. He found you in the former gym, trying to rearrange the couch cushions in the center of the room into something more comfortable. He paused in the doorway, Lola dancing around at his feet. “Where’s Steve?” he asked, as he bent down to pet her.

“He, uh–” you said without looking up, “he went for another run. He wasn’t very happy.”

“Fucking asshole,” Ransom muttered.

You finally looked at him, shaking your head. “No, he just doesn’t handle it well when he doesn’t know how to fix something.”

Ransom looked at you very seriously. “And if he makes that your problem, he’s a fucking asshole.”

“That's not– That's not what happened. That's not what he's doing.”

He stared at you for a long moment, causing you to look away, uncomfortable with the attention. “Okay,” he finally said with the hint of a sigh. “Well, I’ll be downstairs if you want company or…” He trailed off and shrugged, then left the room.

About an hour later, Steve burst back into the house, yelling into his phone. “Well, where the hell did that money go? There’s no reason for him to be that over-budget. I’ve seen the dailies. –No, you get down there and you get that set back under control. –I can’t, I’m not in LA. There was a family emergency. –Yeah, I know Joseph is still there. He isn’t my only family, is he? Listen, just go do your goddamn job.” With that, he hung up his phone forcefully then stomped upstairs without acknowledging you or Ransom where you were seated on the couch.

You could feel the irritation coming off of Ransom but he didn’t say anything. You were grateful. You had no idea what to make of Steve right now, how to explain him. Or excuse him. The awkward silence was preferable to trying.

Several minutes later, Steve came back down, changed into fresh clothes again. He smiled at you in greeting and if not for the tense set of his shoulders, you would have thought everything was fine. “Hey,” he said, “I just ordered the two of us some food.”

“The two of us?” you asked, looking pointedly at Ransom.

“Oh!” Steve exclaimed and the fucking fake look of surprise on his face made you want to scream. “I didn’t realize he was back. Well, I’m sure it’s fine. It’s his house. He’ll be able to scrounge up something.”

“Steve,” you started. Of all the unbelievably rude–

Your ramp-up to letting your brother have it was cut short by Ransom’s hand on your wrist. “It’s fine,” he said quietly. He looked tired and sad in a way you hated. He looked annoyed too, beyond belief, but underneath all that, you also saw something pleading in his expression. You remembered what he’d said this morning. He wanted you to have a nice day with your brother. So you swallowed down all of your anger and didn’t say anything. But you cataloged everything so you could have a private conversation with Steve later.

“See,” Steve said with a smug grin, “it’s fine. This will be nice. It’s been too long since we’ve gotten to pig out together. I got all your favorites.”

Despite your protests, Ransom made himself scarce. The food arrived shortly after he disappeared and Steve dished it up like nothing was wrong. You sat and ate with him, even though you weren’t much up for conversation, despite his frequent efforts. He never said anything about the news you’d shared that morning. You tried not to be too hurt by that.

As you were finishing up, Ransom quietly reappeared, grabbing something to drink from the fridge. Before he could run back upstairs, you stopped him, feeling awful that he must feel so unwelcome in his own home. “Do you want some food?” you asked, gesturing to the copious leftovers. “I could make you a plate.”

Not waiting for Ransom’s response, Steve cut in. “Is that how it works around here?” he asked, not of you but Ransom. “You’ve got her waiting on you on hand and foot?” his voice teeming with anger.

“Steve,” you hissed, trying to stop him, but he didn’t notice.

“I mean, I get it,” he continued, and there was a sharp edge to his voice that made you very nervous, “you must have thought you hit the jackpot, huh? Some sweet, naive little thing who's too young to really be plugged into the right part of the prep school rumor mill. Hasn't heard about the designer drugs, or the girls, or the parties. All the trouble your family's had to bail you out of. That's why they had to look clear on the other coast for an arrangement for you, huh? They had to go that far to find anyone who didn't already know what a piece of shit you are–”

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS” you shouted, your stool loudly scraping against the hardwood floor as you stood up. It’d barely been there, you’d barely seen it, the flash of deep hurt on Ransom’s face before he’d covered it up, first with a blank mask, then a sneer that threatened to bring everything down. But you wouldn’t let that happen. You were fucking done. You couldn’t deal with this anymore. “Can you just stop, Steve?! I’m so tired of this shit!” you yelled at him.

“What?” they said in unison, both men facing you now, surprised.

“Lola!” you called out. “Come on! Steve and I are taking you for a walk!” She came racing down the stairs, and you quickly put on her harness and leash. Then you were out the door, trusting that Steve was behind you.

You walked in silence for a few blocks. You could feel him watching you warily, but you didn’t turn around to look at him. You didn’t think you’d ever been so mad at him in your life. It might’ve been the angriest you’d ever been with anyone. Your hands were shaking. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you finally seethed, stopping so suddenly that he almost ran into you.

“What?” His obliviousness made you even angrier.

You finally turned on him, your face heating up with rage. “You’re such a fucking asshole! You’re fucking everything up!”

He cowed just a bit at your glare but quickly recovered. “What are you talking about?! I came here to help you!”

“Well, you aren’t! I keep telling you that you aren’t but you never fucking listen to me!”

He recoiled a little, and then his eyes went steely. “Really? I never listen to you? I’m the only one who ever listens to you!”

Even if that were true, there was something about the way he said it that really pissed you off. “Fuck you!” you said and charged forward with Lola running to catch up behind you.

A moment later, Steve was on your heels again. “What is going on with you? You’ve been acting off since I got here.”

You spun on your heels to face him. “I’ve been acting off?! I wonder why! You’ve just barged in here like a bull in a china shop, not caring at all about the damage you’re doing!”

“I’m here to help you. I’ve been defending you!”

“Yeah, now! You’re trying to help me, now!”

“What does that mean?”

“Where have you been, Steve? You’ve been MIA the last three months, and now when things might actually get better, now you’re here to ‘defend’ me.”

“Better? This,” he hissed, flinging an arm towards your stomach, “is better?!”

“We had to do it. There was a clause in the contract. You know that!”

He scoffed. “Yeah, and I'm sure he reminded you of that every chance he got, as he fully took advantage of it.”

If he hadn't already set you off, that would be the thing to do it. “Never! Ok? I was the one who pushed it. I was the one who rushed It. Me. Never him.”

That brought Steve up short. “What? Why would you do that?”

“Because of your aunt!”

For a frustratingly long moment, he just gave you a confused look. Then you finally saw the realization dawn on his face. “Oh. Laura.”

“Yes, Laura! That wasn't going to be me. Not ever.”

“I never would have let that happen!”

The laugh that burst out of you at that was cold, hard. “How?” you asked. “You're always saying shit like that, but what, exactly, would you have done?”

He started to answer, but you cut him off quickly, shaking your head.

“This is my life, Steve. Mine. I’m the one who has to actually live it. I don’t need you judging me for how I choose to survive it.”

“You shouldn't have to just survive it,” he said. His tone had suddenly turned sad. It made you even angrier.

“I'll be lucky to survive it,” you growled. “You get to just waltz around, forgetting how this world works whenever it's convenient for you. Meanwhile, I have to claw and fight for just the possibility that I might not turn into my mom.” You took a deep breath. “Ransom, at least, can fucking see that. He's stuck in this mess with me, and I think he might actually want to try. You’re not going to ruin that for me just because he insulted you once at a cocktail party or whatever.” You turned on your heels. You were exhausted. You didn't have the energy for any more of this. “I'm going back. You can come if you want. But you better fucking apologize. He didn't deserve that. No matter what he’s done, he didn’t deserve to be treated that way by you.”

Steve was a few minutes behind you getting back to the house, and he did apologize, although through gritted teeth. The whole time, Ransom’s eyes were on you.

You declared you were going to bed shortly after. It was too early, but you didn't care. You were done with this day.

As you were changing into your sleep clothes, Ransom quietly let himself into his room. You both looked a little startled by your state of undress. Part of you wanted to cover up. It felt so intimate, changing in front of him. But you knew that was silly. He'd already seen so much more of you.

He just stood there for a long moment before he finally spoke. “You yelled at him for me.”

“Yeah,” you said. “He deserved it.”

“But he's your brother.” He almost seemed confused.

The absolutely absurd thought And you're my husband popped into your head unbidden, but thankfully you didn't vocalize it. “That doesn't change the fact that he was wrong.”

Ransom didn’t say anything. Just stood there with a furrowed brow. After too much silence you asked softly, “Did I do something wrong?”

He jolted a little, like he’d been somewhere else, then shook his head. “No, sorry, I just–” He took a breath. “Thank you. I’m not used to people doing things like that for me.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say. You suddenly felt so sad for him. But honestly, the only person who’d ever done anything like this for you had been Steve. And you’d seen Ransom’s family. You knew he’d never had a Steve.

Sparing you from having to figure out a response, Ransom took a deep breath, “Listen,” he started, “about the things he said, I–”

You cut him off with a shake of your head. “We don’t need to talk about that right now. Sometime, maybe, but not right now.” Nothing about his past would change things for you now. You’d still be married to him either way. It was better to just focus on the man he was showing himself to be now.

Ransom took a long moment and looked at you carefully. Finally, he asked, “Did you yell at him for yourself too?”

You nodded, then added a quiet, “I did.”

“Good,” he said, then started to turn around. “I’ll try not to wake you when I come to bed. Good night.”

“Good night,” you whispered.

Right before he left the room, he turned back to add one more thing. “I’ve never seen you as naive. Not for a moment in this whole thing.” Then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

You just stood there, in the middle of the room, unable to move for a few minutes. Then you took a deep breath and moved into the bathroom. As you finished getting ready for bed, you couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility that maybe you had two people in your corner now.

Your bedroom furniture and other belongings were delivered the next day. The movers set up the heavy furniture and then left everything else to you. As you started to begin unpacking, there was a hesitant knock on the door frame.

Steve stood just outside your now bedroom, looking far less sure than you were used to. “Would you like some help?” he asked softly.

“Sure,” you said, with a little shrug, pushing some boxes in his direction.

The two of you mostly worked in silence, only broken by Steve’s occasional questions of where you wanted your things to go. After a while he finally broke, “Dad’s been piling a ton of new stuff on my plate.” You stopped what you were doing and looked at him, listening. “Responsibilities and projects and– He wants me to take on more of being the face of the studio, too, so lots of parties and dinners and stuff. My schedule has been out of control. I’d think he was getting ready to retire if I didn’t actually know him.” He let out a weak chuckle. When you didn’t react, didn’t join him, he put his hands up in defense. “Not an excuse, just–” he shrugged his shoulders a little helplessly and sighed, “just an explanation, I guess.”

“You told me that I could call you any time of day for any reason. That’s what you said. And then I did, and you were nowhere to be found.”

“I know,” he started, “I–”

You shook your head. It was your turn to talk. “I spent months here feeling more alone than I ever have in my life. I’ve had nothing to do, no one to talk to. I was living with someone I thought I needed to be scared of.” You paused, wondering if that would set Steve off, but he just sat there, waiting for you to continue. Like he was really trying to listen this time. “His family’s been so awful to me, his mom especially. And you know my mom's been no help. She just kept telling me to keep him happy, even though I didn't know how. And I didn't know how to talk to him and he didn't know how to talk to me. But I knew the only way I could even start to feel secure here was if we fulfilled every part of the contract. So,” you put your hand on your stomach self-consciously and shook your head. “And the only person I actually wanted to talk to was you, and you wouldn't pick up your fucking phone. It felt like I was just stuck here while you went back to your life and forgot about me.” Tears spilled past your lashes and you hurried to wipe them away.

Steve’s face, which had grown sadder as you'd been talking, completely crumpled. He crawled from his sitting position across the room to you as fast as he could. “Hey, no,” he said emphatically as soon as he was sitting in front of you. “I think about you all the time. I've missed you so much. I've been so worried about you. I know I haven't done a good job showing it. I'm so sorry I ever made you feel like I didn't care. I–” He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes for just a moment. When he opened them, they had the distinct shine of unshed tears. “Talking to you was really hard. I felt like you weren’t actually telling me anything.” Before you even opened your mouth, Steve put up a hand to stop you from saying anything. “I'm not saying any of this was your fault. I know it's all mine. But I just didn’t know how to get you to talk to me. And if you wouldn't tell me what was wrong, then I couldn't fix it. I felt so useless. Every time we talked I felt so fucking useless. And so sometimes,” he paused like he was bracing himself, “sometimes it was kind of a relief to have the excuse of being busy. To have a reason to not call or text you back right away. I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I was always thinking about you. I was always worried about you. But sometimes I just couldn't fucking talk to you.”

It took your breath away, the intense stab of hurt you felt. “I’ve never needed you to be useful,” you gasped out through your tears. “I just need you to be there for me. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I just need you to be there for me.”

“Shit,” he choked out, his voice so thick. “I know.” He moved forward, then paused, waiting for you to stop him. When you didn’t, he lunged for you, wrapping you in his arms. “I know. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.”

You just sat like that, holding each other for several minutes. When you finally pulled apart, Steve blinked his eyes clear and said, “I hope you know that I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know,” you said softly, and took a deep breath, “and I forgive you for doing it anyway.”

You watched some of the rigidness leave his shoulders. “Thank you,” he breathed out.

Neither of you said anything, and there was still this tension in the room. You were so tired of it. You just wanted your brother back. You just wanted any normalcy you could possibly get, so you wiped the tears from your eyes and said, “You're right. I wasn't telling you anything. I think because I was afraid that if I did, you wouldn't listen past the first two words and then do something completely wild, like fly all the way across the country to punch Ransom in the face. Ridiculous, right?”

He just stared at you in shock and then clocked the wry smile on your face. He laughed despite himself, then rolled his eyes and groaned. “You're sure he didn’t deserve it?”

You pulled a small pillow from the box beside you and threw it at him, annoyed as he dodged it easily. “Yes, I’m sure, you asshole!” You scowled at him, but you couldn’t quite keep the corners of your mouth from ticking up. The whole room felt lighter now, easier to breathe in. It was such a relief.

“I can’t believe you actually like him now,” Steve whined, his whole face scrunched up in disgust.

You shrugged. “I still don’t really know him. But I’m going to try to. We both are, I hope. I don’t know, I think maybe we could be friends, eventually.” You shook your head in disbelief. “That’s a best-case scenario I never really imagined.”

Steve looked at you thoughtfully, and with a hint of playfulness, said, “Well. I’m never going to like him.” His eyes got a little more serious. “But I’m really happy, and so relieved, that things are getting better for you.”

“Yeah, me too,” you said softly. Then you both went back to unpacking, conversation ebbing in and out much easier now.

Eventually, you heard him let out a long sigh. You turned to look at him as he carefully pulled something from a box. Oh. It was Mr. Bun Bun, your favorite stuffed animal as a kid. You remembered crying as you packed it away to put into storage, Steve sitting next to you, gently rubbing your back.

He slowly took a few steps to the head of your bed and then reverently placed it against your pillows. He just stared at it for a moment and then looked around at the rest of the room. “Wow,” he said, and he sounded so sad, “I guess you really live here now.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. “I've been here for months.”

“Yeah, I know. But I guess,” he shrugged, “I guess it still sort of felt like you'd be back any day. But all your stuff's here now. It just– It feels final.”

You looked around the room as well. It wasn't exactly like your old room in your old apartment but this was the closest thing you'd had to feeling home in months. “Yeah,” you said quietly, not quite sure what to do with these feelings. “I guess it does.”

Steve sat down on your bed and you immediately joined him. He knocked his knee against yours. “I know I keep saying this, but I really do miss you. It’s so weird to not have you in LA anymore. To go to all these parties and not be able to talk to you there. Or to be able to just drop by your apartment when I need to see you. Or when you need to see me.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “That’s why it’s so important for us to actually keep in touch.”

“I know,” he said, seriously. “I’ll be better at it. I promise.”

You hummed in response and grabbed his hand. Now that everything was out in the open, it was such a relief to just be able to enjoy his closeness, without the tension hanging over both of you.

After a few minutes, he took a deep breath and spoke again. “I’m gonna go home tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“You were right. I’m just in the way here. It’s time for me to go.”

“Ok,” you replied, your voice small. You weren’t sure how to feel about that—the last few days had been so hard and so exhausting. But you’d finally gotten your brother back and now he was leaving again? “Are you sure?”

He jostled you with his shoulder. “Hey,” he said gently with a smile. “I’ll be back. And I’ll even let you invite me next time.”

You smiled back. “Advanced notice?” you asked. “How novel!”

Steve grabbed one of your pillows and hit you with it. You collapsed into giggles, feeling lighter than you had for a long time.

You spent the rest of the day with your brother, which warmed your soul even more than you thought you needed.

You took Lola out for a short walk in the evening, while Steve finished gathering his things before the car would come to pick him up. When you came back in, you found Steve and Ransom locked in a serious conversation. They spoke in hushed tones, leaning across the kitchen island to face each other. There was no yelling. No tensing muscles ready for a fight. All the same, it made you very nervous.

They both quieted as they noticed your presence. That didn’t help to quell your worry at all. “What’s going on here?”

Steve gave you his trademarked boyish grin. “Just getting to know my brother-in-law.”

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously then cast a concerned glance at Ransom, but he waved you off with a reassuring shake of his head. Steve was still grinning at you like everything was fine. He really could be such an asshole. “Sure. OK,” you said, resigned to whatever weird dynamic was happening in front of you. “Are you all ready?”

“Yup,” Steve nodded, gesturing to where his luggage was waiting by the door. “Car should be here any minute.”

You nodded back, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened. He pulled you into a hug quickly. He just held you for a moment before you heard Ransom clear his throat behind you. “I’ll give you two your privacy.”

You pulled away just enough to see Steve look over your shoulder so he could say, “Remember what we talked about.”

You looked over to Ransom who held Steve’s gaze and firmly said, “Yeah, you too,” then went upstairs.

“The fuck was that?” you asked Steve.

“Nothing, just a conversation we needed to have.”

“Steve,” you sighed in exasperation as you separated yourself from him.

He put up his hands in defense. “It’s fine. I’m playing nice. I promise.”

“Sure.”

He took a step back and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s one more thing I need to say to you. I should have done it yesterday when you first–” he shook his head. “My reaction when you told me about the baby was awful, I know that. And I don’t know if ‘congratulations’ is something you want to hear right now, so I just want to say that I’ll be here for you, whatever you need. And I’ll be here for the baby too. OK? I just really needed to say that.”

You searched his face, his eyes for anything that might warn you that his words were empty, but all you found was sincerity. You took a deep breath. “All I need is for you to pick up your phone.”

“I know,” he nodded quickly. “I will.”

You were so torn between the exhaustion and frustration of the last few days and just how much you'd missed your brother. You pulled him into another hug. “You’re such a jerk,” you said with a hint of fondness.

“I know,” he said, wrapping his arms around you.

“And I love you so much.”

You felt him exhale, any remaining uneasiness bleeding out of him. “I know. I love you too.”

His phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. “Your car is here,” you said sadly, pulling away.

“Hey, that’s ok. It’s not like they’ll leave without me.”

“No,” you shook your head, “you should go. You don’t want to get home too late.”

“Oh, chipmunk,” he sighed. “Ok, one more,” then hugged you again. “I’m so proud of you.”

You pulled back to look him in the eye. “What for?”

He took a moment to gather his words. Finally, he said, looking you right in the eye, “For being so much stronger than you should have to be.”

You had no idea what to say to that so you walked over to the door, Steve right behind you.

At the door, he put one hand on his suitcase, and with the other, he grabbed your hand. “I’ll see you again soon. I promise.”

You nodded, searching for something to say. “Uh, thanks for coming.”

That elicited a big hearty laugh from him. “Yeah, sure.” He squeezed your hand. “Take good care of yourself.”

“You too,” you said, opening the door for him.

He gave you a big smile before he walked out the door. You watched the driver take Steve’s suitcase from him and open the back door for Steve to get in. You stayed in the doorway until the car slowly backed down the driveway and turned onto the road. After closing the door, you still stayed where you were, trying to breathe through the flood of emotions overtaking you. You already missed him so much, yet you were so relieved he was gone. What were you supposed to do with that?

You were finally jolted out of your reverie by the sound of Ransom coming down the stairs, the tinkling of Lola’s collar accompanying him. “Steve’s gone?” he asked as he came off the last step.

When you nodded, you saw the way his shoulders slumped in relief. You held back the apology desperate to crawl out of your mouth. Steve’s actions weren’t your responsibility, you tried so hard to remember. But still, Ransom had lost the comfort of his own home for days. The guilt was there.

He got himself a water out of the fridge and then looked at you carefully. “How are you?”

The reflex to tell him you were fine was strong, but you did your best to resist it and answered honestly. “I don’t really know.”

He smiled a little ruefully. “I have no idea what’s normal for siblings.”

You chuckled lightly. “Neither do I.”

He took several steps towards you and you couldn’t help the way your body swayed in his direction, just a little. “But you’re alright?’

You nodded and said softly, “I will be.”

“Good.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the way the fingers on one of his hands drummed against his thigh. “Well. I just wanted to check on you before I went to bed.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, strangely aware of the space between you. “I appreciate it. It was a weird few days, but I think I’m ok. Or I will be.”

“Yeah. Good,” he said again.

You both just stood there for a moment, the air around you oddly charged, until Lola pawed at your leg. “Right. Well, she needs to go out. So. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said quietly, then turned toward the sink as you went outside with Lola.

When you got back in, there was no sign of Ransom, so you led Lola upstairs to your new bedroom. She immediately hopped onto your bed, wagging her tail wildly. As you looked around, all of your things almost as they’d been in your apartment in LA, those feelings you felt while unpacking your things with Steve grew in you even more. You smiled at your little dog. “Yeah, feels almost like home, doesn’t it, Lola?”

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haologram · 12 days ago

Text

pink stationery ❤️‍🩹 w.jh

synopsis: everything with junhui has been a step towards something, but neither of you are very clear on what when it comes to the other. genre: co-workers to lovers ; angst, fluff. pairing: office worker!wen junhui x fem!reader word count: 7.9k rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: it's stupidly vague and i'm sorry for that. minimal swearing, i guess? mentions of eating and food. they're just stupid what to listen to: starstarstar - dosii ; take me - miso ; say yes - seventeen ; heart burn - sunmi ; i was made for lovin' you - kiss. author's note: i'm going to be honest, i've been having a really hard time with life and i just wanted to write something regardless of deadlines and expectations. i also don't care if it makes sense, i just wanna write. i love my collabs, though, and they will get done. i just want to be vague and mysterious and stupid for a moment in time and not worry. welcome our beloved junhui to the haologram blog <3 i've missed him so dearly. [star dividers] by @/saradika-graphics here on tumblr, and thank you to cam for the bar name! enjoy!

HE SMELLS LIKE LUMBER SOMETIMES.

He smells like the tree trunks he chops for firewood at his cabin on the weekends, and he picks up pinecones. He dusts them off and examines them, and the best one is always promptly delivered to your desk by lunchtime on Monday afternoons.

That was the extent of your relationship with him, and really, any of your co-workers. He’d never spoken a word to you (not that you could remember, anyway) but has somehow figured out that you like pinecones. Particularly not ones that smell like cardboard boxes from the home section at Marshall’s.

No one speaks to you unless they need something, and rarely does someone need something from you as a person.

No invitations to drinks after work – you see them enough as it is. You hang up on remote meetings without saying much of anything, and you’re usually the first to leave the call without so much as a goodbye. Your emails and short and dry, signed off with only your name. You avoid the catered lunches provided by whatever restaurant your company paid out and stick to wedging yourself into the sixth-floor storage room with your package of fruit snacks and a sad turkey sandwich. There was a pink chair in the corner that you liked and tried multiple times to convince Mike (the janitor) to let you have but he refused.

You do not make eye contact during breaks, and you don’t stop by the break room for coffee or complimentary muffins. You lied about why once, when you were asked by a coworker – and absently claimed a gluten allergy, only to be seen eating bread a few hours later. That coworker hasn’t spoken to you since, and you don’t think she plans to.

But him?

He started talking about two years ago, a year after you joined the company. He started talking too much, you could argue, but he would say it’s just enough.

He’s too friendly, you thought. He dropped by your desk with a warm cup of tea every morning, if not your precious Monday morning pinecone. He slid a soft, lemon-blueberry muffin under your nose with a soft smile every once in a while. He asked you to lunch, to drinks, and he always sent you a separate follow-up email after remote meetings when he could very well just add your tasks to the bottom of the mass list he always sends in the group mail.

He was just above you on the corporate ladder, but you felt no pressure to answer him in terms of social interaction. He didn’t make it a point, either – he just existed in your vicinity, and only came into your space when you allowed. Quite like a cat, you are.

He told you about his life, quietly, calmly. He told you about how he learned wushu growing up, and how he played piano. He told you about how he got the cabin as a gift from a friend who was moving abroad, unlikely to return and much less spend time in the quiet woods surrounding your town. He told you about his late-night snacking habit, about his cat, Luna. He told you about his best friend, Minghao, and how he was the best man at his wedding a few years ago.

But above all?

He listened to you.

He looked at you like every word from your mouth held weight, carefully nodding along to your mumbled stories of troubled childhood. He listened to you talk about your favorite dish, your favorite color, even your theories about how middle children suffer the most. He laughed at your wry jokes, the dry humor – though he would bite it back at the deadpan comments you’d make during department meetings.

He always sat next to you in those department meetings. His knee was always just barely brushing yours, the soft material of his slacks making your skin prickle as it touched your bare thigh. He’d pass you doodled notes on his pink stationery with My Melody on the edges. He always adjusted the hem of your skirt down subtly when you stood up and pushed your chair in after you skirted around it. He waited until you’d gathered all your materials to leave, walking alongside you back to your desk even if his was across the office.

And it made people wonder what about you had his attention so deeply.

You’re not interesting to any of them, you never had been. You’re a liar (about a gluten allergy, of all things) and the kind of quiet that made them feel stupid if you looked at them for too long. They felt like you were judging them, when really – you were hoping they’d speed up their long-winded questions to end the painfully awkward social aspect of you fixing their problems.

Sometimes, he’d send you home early to help you escape their judging eyes.

He’d send you an email – the subject line usually only taken up by “🏠?” The body usually contained nothing more than a new picture of Luna, but you always appreciated it.

He’d be looking over the edge of his monitor to watch you hear the dreaded Outlook ding, your eyes slightly lighting up at the sound before really brightening the moment you saw it was him. You’d look over the edge of your monitor, raising a brow that didn’t hide your shy smile as you sent him an email back before quietly packing your bag and slipping out of the office.

It was always just a meme you’d found during your lunchtime Pinterest scroll – one you’re sure he’d seen you add to your shared board.

Because, of all things, he’d chosen to first share his Pinterest with you. You saw his dream home, vintage cars, cool jewelry and the stupid memes he liked you send you in the middle of the night when he was thinking of you.

You still reread that text, he sent it over a year ago.

MESSAGE FROM: Wen Junhui ♡ [2:32AM] of course i think about you. [2:33AM] i think about you all the time. after breakfast, when you try to sneak out of the office to hide in that storage room upstairs. even outside of work, sometimes i see things i think you’d like. but i mostly think about you now. [2:34AM] i think it’s a comfort that you pass my mind before i go to bed. or maybe just an association i've made with the fact that i check our board every night to see if you’ve added anything. [2:35AM] but...i prefer the former, honestly. goodnight, y/n. sleep well. ♡

You added the little heart to his contact name that same night.

Granted, things between you and him never went further. He talked to you, he walked with you around the office, he gave you many ways to contact him outside of work even if you never texted him first. He shared moments of his day with you if you missed work or worked from home – which was rare and always worried him. He would send pictures of a lone pinecone sitting on your mousepad if you weren’t there when he delivered it, followed by whatever random emoji he felt fit the mood. Sometimes it was a hazelnut, sometimes it was a cat.

Sometimes, it was the heart wrapped in a bandage.

You tried not to overthink it.

But it was hard not to notice the whispers about him.

How a lot of your coworkers talked about him, and how cute he is. How sweet, smart, gentle. How he’s soft-spoken until he’s around his friends, even though you knew that his best friend was just as soft spoken. He worked two floors down, Xu Minghao.

You met Minghao and his wife (and the rest of their shared friends) the first time you were ever invited out for drinks – and the first time you ever hesitated to say no.

Junhui managed to get you right in the nick of time, too – right as the clock struck five. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to log out of your programs when he leaned over the wall of your cubicle with a twinkle in his eye that made your chest ache.

“Have a drink with me. My friends are coming, too, but you know. I’ll be there.”

And you had more than a drink – you had a good time. You had three blood orange margaritas and a sip of his beer, but it was like you were shining brighter than a million suns. You let yourself sink into the soft vinyl of the booth, surrounded by him and his scent and his friends. You let yourself talk, out loud and with gusto about everything. You were uninhibited, and you remember how they all warmly smiled as Junhui pushed your hair out of your eyes as you talked about how there was no way the megalodon shark was extinct.

He walked you home that night, the two of you a little too tipsy to navigate the train or drive. He walked on the sidewalk closest to the street and held your pinchy heels in his fingers, letting you skip around and complain about the humidity. He only smiled, his hip bumping yours every once in a while, when you swayed a bit too far.

When you got back to your apartment, he waited against the railing in front of your doorstep to watch you step inside. You remember hesitating before asking him if he wanted to come in for a nightcap.

His eyes widened, and for a moment – he considered it. You saw how his eyes flickered to your lips, before he cleared his throat.

“Maybe another night. Thank you for coming out with me tonight, I hope it wasn’t too overwhelming.”

It hadn’t been, but his soft rejection was certainly disappointing. You shook your head then, staring at him for a split second more before speaking.

“It was nice. I’d...I’d like to do it again, sometime. Just us.”

You smiled softly, before giving him a curt nod and slipping into your apartment before he could respond. You leaned against the door, sliding down the cool wood before hearing him utter a soft goodnight.

Since then, the two of you had gone for drinks over and over again – just the two of you, and with his friends. When it was just you, he’d talk about everything and anything under the sun. But when it was with his friends?

They really liked you, enjoying the excitement that they never saw in the office. One of them, Kwon Soonyoung in finance, offhandedly mentioned that they hadn’t known you and Junhui were friends until he started mentioning you at random moments. Your face had felt hot as the rest of them giggled and agreed, with Minghao’s wife letting it slip that ‘random moments’ meant any time he could.

“Yeah, he brings you up a lot. Oh, Y/N likes this. Y/N would love that. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. It’s so cute.”

You don’t remember Junhui refuting it, but you remember the flustered blush that settled in his cheeks after that. Things between you and him didn’t change, though.

Until they did – one month, three days later, Junhui got a girlfriend.

It was like he had vanished entirely – gone were the warm cups of tea on your desk, the muffins, the pinecones. No more invites to lunch or drinks with him or his friends. No longer did you receive emails asking if you wanted to go home early, no more pictures of Luna, no more separate follow-up emails outlining your tasks after remote meetings.

None of it really bothered you, until you realized that your shared board hadn’t been updated by him in a while. Then, you noticed it, truly – he'd unfollowed you. Pinterest, Instagram, even Spotify. Spotify!

He didn’t sit next to you at department meetings, either. No more passed notes, no more pushing your chair in. And he rushed out right after, not bothering to even speak to you.

And people noticed.

You hadn’t realized that by allowing yourself to associate with Junhui and his friends, you became more than a blip on people’s radar. People knew your name; they knew your face. The girls gossiped about what he could possibly see in you, unaware that you were reapplying deodorant in one of the stalls. Men speculated about your relationship status, wondering amongst themselves if you were open-minded – while they stood outside for a smoke, making you scrunch your nose in disgust at them for more reasons than one.

People knew you – his friends, still said hello in the hallways. Minghao, gave you warm smiles and extended invites to drinks that you’d swiftly decline – with excuses of working late, of being tired, or whispering that time of the month. He always nodded, smiled...but you knew he didn’t believe you.

Once you realized Junhui was avoiding you for what you believed was a girlfriend, it took you less than twelve hours to get back to your reserved demeanor. As long as you didn’t make noise in your cubicle, no one came around – and people realized then that your gaze wasn’t mean to intimidate or judge, but to time. You didn’t want to talk to anyone you didn’t have to, more than you needed to – and that was bothersome to most of them.

Of course it was; in their minds, they’re great.

They’re a catch, they’re fun to be around.

But they’re not him.

They’ve never cared to ask you a single thing about yourself beyond your relationship status and where you got your shoes. You always just stared until they left or mumbled something about the local DSW.

Things with him never returned to the easy friendship you thought was starting to form, even as you rung in the new year at the company party. It made you sad.

Maybe because you had a bit of a crush on him, actually.

You thought a little too hard about the meanings behind his messages, the pictures of his weekend retreats to his cabin that he insisted you were always welcome at, especially if his friends were there. You missed the shared memes, the shared playlists, the way he’d sometimes find you inside the sixth-floor storage room, sitting on the dusty pink chair that always made him smile a little too fondly.

You liked Junhui, more than just a cubicle crush that you could discuss with your girlfriends that you didn’t have.

But he had one. One that meant more to him than you ever would, even with the way he opened his heart to you.

You thought about what he shared with you – videos of him playing the piano at Minghao’s wedding for his first dance with his wife. He shared his presence and comfort, often walking you home and your hands always brushed. You felt like a schoolgirl every time you’d tuck your hand into your pocket. You once got caught in the rain together and stood under the bus stop before he fished his headphones out of his pocket and gave you one.

He played starstarstar by Dosii as he pulled you out from under the safety of the bus stop, and the two of you walked to your apartment instead. Hand-in-hand, soaked to the bone, with the string of his headphones forcing even more proximity that made your cheeks heat.

You don’t remember who interlaced your fingers. If it was you...you’re still happy. It means he was okay with it, maybe he wanted to.

If it was him?

He definitely wanted to.

However, it’s all filed in your memories now – because you look over your monitor to see his brows fixed in concentration as he types across his keyboard, with you not even a blip on his radar. You watch carefully as he reads his own words over and over, before his eyes flicker up and meet yours.

You’re not surprised when his shoulders sag for the umpteenth time, and he looks away.

Like he wants to say something. Like he wants to talk to you, but the words get caught in his throat and he can’t seem to get them out. It’s been a year since you’ve spoken, and you would’ve forgotten the sound of his voice if he wasn’t your co-worker – but you never forget that night last spring, drenched in the rain.

You would’ve kissed him; you could have kissed him.

It’s spring, again.

You walk to the train station after work in silence, with nothing playing in your headphones for the first time. You sit in between an elderly couple and a lone high school girl absently staring at a long thread of messages on her phone. They’re all left unanswered, and she repeatedly fills the text box with words before deleting them and starting over.

You feel like that girl – except she’s brave enough to ask for answers and you’re gripping your purse in a claustrophobic panic.

It’s a Wednesday in summer when you finally get tired of waiting for answers. Almost a year to the date when he first asked you to get drinks with him, you get an idea.

Have a drink with me tonight.

That's all it says.

You stand over the copy machine, the sticky note you scribbled on moments earlier folded neatly in your hand. You wrote and rewrote it at your desk, your hands trembling and smearing the ink. You had to walk past his desk to submit the paperwork you were making copies of, and you planned to slip it onto his mousepad on the way back to your own.

You don’t get a chance to do that, though.

Your eyes are closed when you hear the copy room door open, but you don’t bother to look up as that same woodsy smell fills your nostrils.

He doesn’t speak, but you know it’s him.

You know, from the smell of lumber and the click of his shoes and the tension that makes you feel suffocated as you peer over your shoulder. He’s silent, thumbing at his own paperwork. He only glances up when he feels your eyes on him, but this time, you don’t look away.

His jacket is gone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tie slightly loosened. You’d stare if it wasn’t against girl code to ogle someone else’s man.

You turn, fully facing him as your last copy gets stapled by the machine and slides out. You gather them in your arms, before holding them to your chest and holding the sticky note out to him between two fingers. He glances at the hot pink paper, swallowing carefully before reaching for it.

You give him a soft smile, before spinning on your heel and heading out of the room without a word.

You’re moving at lightning speed to get out of the office before he can get a chance to catch up with you – shoving your copies into your manager’s hands with a rushed run-down of the day’s events and outages. You thank her with a bow, before beelining for your desk and yanking your purse out of the bottom drawer.

You make it to the elevator without him noticing you, your eyes catching a flash of his white shirt and the hot pink paper unfolded in his hand.

You feel your phone buzz in your hand as you reach the lobby.

NEW! Message From: Wen Junhui (WORK) [5:32PM] where?

It’s nearing seven when he finally has the courage to get out of his car.

He’s been sitting in front of the bar for ten minutes, hoping to see you walk by. If you’re late, you won’t notice that he is.

Message From: Y/N ♡ [5:35PM] at dizzy’s [5:35PM] 6:30?

He waits another three minutes, watching the corner before his hand finally grabs the door handle and pulls.

He sees you almost instantly, sitting quietly at a booth in the back. You’re not in your work clothes anymore, instead wearing a soft red dress and your hair is pinned back. You’re smiling at the waiter, who seems to be really interested in talking to you as he slides a margarita on the table. He holds the menu out, only for you to shake your head.

He watches your glossed lips shape around the words: I’m waiting for someone.

Him. He’s the someone.

He wants to be the only one. Ever.

He tongues his cheek as the waiter nods, patting the vinyl of the booth above your head. You lean your head back slightly, closing your eyes as your forefinger picks at your thumb’s cuticle. A nervous habit of yours, one he’d picked up on the first time he spoke to you.

About pinecones, actually – but you don’t remember that at all. He doesn’t know what possessed him to bring them up – but he learned, through your hushed whisper in the elevator that morning – that you liked them. You like pinecones, because they are so diverse while all still being the same thing.

He hadn’t understood it then, but he did now – albeit differently.

He was like the pinecones, because he tried to show you that he liked you in so many ways...through the invites to drinks, the lunch, the shared memes.

The pinecones.

Sliding warm tea on your desk and lemon-blueberry muffins, to cracking jokes and passing notes to you on his pink My Melody stationery. To pulling your hair out and brushing your hair out of your face, to letting his friends embarrass him by practically outing his interest in you every time they got together with you and him for drinks at this very bar.

To walking you home, even in the rain, just to spend a little more time with you.

Only to realize that it was futile, because you didn’t see him that way.

You didn’t see him as more than a friend, but he’s not brave enough to tell you why you should.

“Hi.”

Your voice is smooth as he finally slides into the booth opposite you, his skin warming at the sound of it. He clears his throat, giving you a curt nod as he adjusts himself in his seat. He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it to the side before feeling guilt begin to settle in his stomach.

“Sorry. I was...”

He gives up on coming up with an excuse, only running his hand through his hair as you nod. Your manicured fingers stir your straw in figure eights, the flash of an heirloom ring you never take off catching his eye. “I’m sorry.”

“For?” Your eyes are curious, before tilting your head. “Being late? It happens.”

He shakes his head like he doesn’t know, before clearing his throat again when the waiter swoops in to save the day. He internally thanks whatever God is out there as he asks for a beer, earning a scrunch of your nose as the waiter nods and leaves once more.

You don’t say anything as he shifts, only stare. Maybe through him, maybe into him.

He doesn’t mind the warmth of your gaze. He never has.

“I didn’t know getting a girlfriend meant you’d treat me like I never existed.” You start softly, his eyes widening as you purse your lips. “I understand creating distance, because there is someone new. Someone who could perceive you and I as something more, when it’s not.”

“I...I don’t know what to say.” He admits lamely, the shock of you thinking he has a girlfriend not yet settling into his bones. “Who told you I have a girlfriend?”

You only shrug, taking a quick sip of your drink before shaking your head.

“Does it matter?”

He blinks, when the waiter slides the beer bottle on the table as he passes by. He touches it, the glass cold as he tongues his cheek.

If this is a way to get over you, by getting you believe there is someone else when there isn’t -- he’ll take it. He’ll take it because then it means he never has to tell you how he feels, and he’ll never have to face the way you reject him so kindly.

“I guess not.” “Mmh.”

You trace circles into the side of your glass with your thumb, before another smile graces your lips.

“Are you happy?”

How could you ask him that?

Of course he’s not happy.

He hasn’t had a proper conversation with you in an entire year, and he’s been too much of a coward to admit that he wants more. He wants to kiss you in the elevator, in the break room, in the storage room on the sixth floor during your lunch break. He wants to hold your hand on the way to department meetings, under the table at drinks with your friends, on the walk to your apartment before you pull him in for a good night kiss. He wants to come into your apartment for a fucking nightcap without knowing he’ll say too much and lose any chance of ever being more to you.

So instead, he pulls away.

He stops talking to you, he removes you off every social media platform he can think of, so he doesn’t have the urge to peek at your dream home board on Pinterest, or the way your dream wedding is so similar to his. So he doesn’t have to be subjected to the cute outfits you post on your Instagram story before you leave your apartment for work, even though he’ll just see it when you arrive and he’ll have to take a deep breath so he doesn’t scream about how nice you look.

So he doesn’t have to know that you’re listening to the playlist he made for you to stay calm in the packed morning train on the way to work.

On the way to him.

“No.”

Your eyes soften, your brows scrunching in that same worried way they do when you’re listening to someone explain their problems to you at work. You nod, that comforting look of understanding glazing over your eyes.

“Can I ask why?”

He doesn’t bother responding, his mind racing as he thinks about all the pinecones sitting in his car, the ones that he’s deemed perfect enough to place on your desk but hasn’t been able to. He thinks about the way you slip out of the office and how your heels sound as you sneak upstairs to the sixth floor during lunch. He thinks about when Mike caught him off-guard by coming down to his desk and saying that you liked a pink chair that was in the storage room and kept asking about it.

A pink chair that used to belong to him, when he first got the company a few months before you did.

He sighs, fishing his wallet out of his pocket and sliding two twenties on the table.

“No. It’s better if you don’t.”

He doesn’t allow himself to look at you as he slides out of the booth, his hand gripping his suit jacket much too tightly for it to go unnoticed. You don’t stand, only nod as you take another sip of your drink.

“I hope it gets better. Have a good night, Junhui.”

He fights back tears as he makes his way out of the bar, your understanding look stuck in his mind as he drives home. He doesn’t bother looking at the pinecones in his backseat or changing the playlist that blares through his speakers when he connects his phone – a playlist you made for him, for his long drive home from work.

You’re in everything he holds dear to him. The music, the cabin – even if you’ve never been there. You know him, everything about him that is worth knowing in his eyes.

Except the fact that he’s in love with you, and that he’s a liar.

JUNHUI ISN'T AT HIS DESK ON THURSDAY. OR FRIDAY.

The whispering starts on Monday, with lots of wayward glances towards you and you almost want to go down to Minghao’s desk and ask if Junhui is okay.

But you don’t -- you glue yourself to your chair until lunch time, only to see that the pink chair you loved is no longer in the storage room. Mike tells you that the original owner took it out on Wednesday night and offers a soft apology. You shake your head and say it’s okay, before turning around and going back to your desk.

You arrive at your desk on Tuesday morning to your desk chair missing. There is a warm cup of tea on a coaster, and a cranberry orange muffin in front of your keyboard – but none of it distracts from the sudden pop of color next to your mousepad.

A plastic pink storage box.

You don’t bother to put your purse down as you crack the corner up, and your eyes widen as you realize it’s full of pinecones. There’s an envelope attached to the underside of the lid, and you pluck it off carefully before leaning against your desk. You peel it open gently, only to see the familiar pink My Melody stationery.

Junhui.

You ignore the urge to look up at his desk to see if he’s watching you over his monitor, feeling eyes from your co-workers trickling in as they spot the pink box. His handwriting is scrawled in purple ink across the stationery, and your heart sinks as you take in the slightly smudged words.

My Y/N,

I’m sorry about Wednesday. In fact, I’m sorry about the past year that I’ve gone without speaking to you. I have no excuse, only an explanation that probably won’t make things any better but will certainly give you some clarity.

I pulled away because I knew things would get too much for me. I’ve got a weak heart, and I can’t take rejection well – so I figured I’d cut ties first. It never worked, cutting contact with you; I found myself constantly missing the sound of your voice. I wanted so badly for you to reach out first, but I should’ve known better than to expect that when I was the one who wedged my way into your life. Our friendship was fun, and I miss listening to playlists with you during the walks to your apartment, but it simply can’t be anymore.

I like you so much, it’s painful to be around you and know you don’t feel the same.

I wanted to kiss you that night last spring. The rain and everything, it felt like a movie. Maybe that’s corny, and maybe it’s too forward but it doesn’t matter anyway because nothing will come of this. I’m sorry, for being too much of a coward to ever explain this to you in person. And for telling you now, through a letter written on stationery.

With this, I’ve got to admit something; finding out that you think I have a girlfriend when you’re all I’ve been able to think about since that first day we spoke is insane to me. Where do you get your gossip from? Is it a subscription? Unsubscribe effective immediately.

Speaking of effective immediately, I’ve taken a new position at a new company. So not only am I a coward for confessing this way, but also because I’m running away from it all. I don’t think I could handle not going home to you, even after seeing you all day. I’m not equipped for the agony of a silent, one-sided office romance that you read about in books.

I recommended you for my position. Don’t worry, people won’t talk to you nearly as much as they do now; but still...have fun, yeah?

I hope you enjoy these pinecones, for whatever you might end up using them for �� and the pink chair. Funny, it belonged to me when I first got to the company. That’s why Mike never gave it up, but he told me you liked it so I figured you should have it.

Now it belongs to you! Quite like my heart.

Have a good day, Y/N. I’ll miss you.

Always and forever yours, Junhui ♡

Your chest aches as you realize all the opportunities have slipped through your fingers.

“Miss Y/N, Mr. Wen said he’d like for you to have this.”

Mike startles you as you see the pink chair being rolled behind your desk, the fabric pristine and the small stain from spilled coffee at the edge is gone. Your fingers flit across the headrest, before you look at him with tears in your eyes.

“Guess he changed his mind, huh?”

He only smiles, nodding his head before turning on his heel and leaving.

You look at the cup of tea. It’s still hot, so it must’ve been placed recently. You glance over at his desk; how vacant it looked. Almost like how your chest feels after having your heart ripped out.

You don’t really notice that you’re moving until you’re in the elevator, nervously nibbling on your lip as you frantically press on Minghao’s floor number while balancing the box of pinecones on your hip. It feels like an eternity as the damn thing jostles, and you nearly trip as it finally opens on the third floor. You beeline for Minghao’s desk in the back, only to see him quietly arriving with his headphones slid over his ears and his wife’s lipstick still stamped on his cheek.

He glances up as he feels your presence behind him, his eyes widening before a smile graces his lips.

“Y/N! What brings you down here?”

“Where is he?” You blurt, your hand still holding the note. He raises a brow, sliding his headphones off and onto the desk as he takes a seat in his desk chair.

“Where is who, sweetheart?” “Junhui.”

His lips form an o-shape, making him nod before he shrugs.

“Why should I tell you?”

You gape at him, almost losing your grip on the box on your hip.

“Because you obviously know, and if you care about me–” “Tell me why I should tell you, Y/N.”

You huff, your cheeks hot as you tap your foot. He tilts his head, an expectant look in his eyes before he speaks again.

“I do have work to do, you know.”

“Because I need to tell him that I...” You choke on your words, scoffing out a humorless laugh as you feel your eyes sting with tears. “Because I need to tell him that he’s an idiot.”

“You can text him that, you know.” “I’d rather die than text him how I feel.” “So, you admit you feel some type of way about him.”

He grins, slim fingers typing his password into his computer. You scowl.

“I never said anything of the sort.” You argue, and Minghao gives you a look that says, really bitch?

“You like him. It’s obvious to all of us, everyone in this office.” He reaches for his water bottle, his fingers aptly flicking the cap open. “So, admit it. Admit you have feelings for Wen Junhui, and I’ll give you the information you want.”

You look at the crumpled stationery in your hand, your heart swelling slightly at his handwriting.

My Y/N. Always and forever yours, Junhui ♡

“I love him.” You mumble softly as you stare at the paper, not catching how Minghao’s eyes widen. “I’m in love with him, Hao.”

A single tear rolls down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away, before looking up to see Minghao looking at you with a soft glaze over his eyes.

“I expect you and your boyfriend to get drinks with my wife and I this weekend in exchange for this.” His tone is warning as he reaches for a pen, his hand swiping a sticky note off the pad. You nod, ignoring the way your cheeks heat at the idea of Junhui being your boyfriend as he holds out the green paper. “Here, leave that. I’ll keep it safe, so you don’t have to lug it around.”

He holds his hands out for the box, and you hesitate before carefully placing it down. You open the corner, taking one of the pinecones out with a wince as he raises a brow before you shove it in your purse.

“I can explain.” “Over drinks this weekend. I’ll work out your attendance with your department manager.”

You smile gently, glancing down at the sticky note. It’s an address to an apartment building.

“Thank you, Minghao.” “Go, sweetheart. You’ll get caught in the rain if you stay any longer.”

And you go.

You don’t bother waiting for the elevator, practically flying down three flights of stairs. You sprint out of the lobby, nearly slamming into yet another of Junhui’s friends, Joshua, before yelling an apology over your shoulder. You make it outside, holding both pieces of paper in one of your shaking hands while the other fishes your phone out of your purse.

A fat raindrop falls on the screen as you map out how far the address is, and you almost welcome the cool water falling onto your cheeks as you run to the train station.

NEW! Message From: Hao [8:02AM] day 1 of my best friend being a traitor. how is working from home, you bitch?

Junhui snorts as the message comes in, settling carefully in his desk chair. He feels a bit alone as he texts back a simple, I’m sorry; the usual soft chatter of the office replaced by the sound of his aircon blasting. Everything feels too casual – his white t-shirt tucked into his blue jeans, the softness of his house slippers instead of his usual heavy dress shoes. He feels like he’s waiting for a lunch date with one of his friends, rather than signing into work for the day.

He looks over the edge of his monitor, no longer seeing your warm eyes looking back at him; but a cat calendar flipped to July. He rolls his shoulders back, sighing inwardly when his phone buzzes incessantly on the desk.

Your contact photo fills the screen.

INCOMING CALL FROM: Y/N [PLEDIS]

He feels the entire world stop. His breath is caught in his throat, and he suddenly can’t feel his limbs. He watches the phone ring until the call fails, nearly falling out of his chair as he stands up and grabs it. His hands are shaking too hard for him to press the missed call notification, only for you to call back again.

His chest is tight as he shakily breathes out, his thumb swiping across the screen to answer it.

“Hello?”

“I wanted to kiss you that night, too. I have never once though back to that night and didn’t feel regret knowing I didn’t kiss you.”

You sound slightly out of breath, and the sound of rain is loud in the background. He feels his stomach drop to his ass; feet rooted to his spot in his office.

“Y/N, I–” “You don’t have to say anything. Just come outside.”

He blinks as the call ends, staring at his reflection in the dark screen.

You’re outside.

“Shit.”

He nearly stumbles as he darts out of his office, beelining for his coat closet and shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers. He grabs the umbrella that leans against the frame of his front door, not bothering to grab his keys as he fumbles with the lock and throws the door open. A rumble of thunder startles him as he quickly shuts the door behind him, his fingers trying to fiddle with the umbrella when he hears your voice echo through the complex.

“Junhui!”

He glances over the railing, his eyes darting all over the courtyard before spotting you a few feet from the stairs. You’re wearing the black dress you wore the first time he’d spoken to you, and the attempt to wear open-toed shoes was ruined by the rain.

“Wen Junhui! Get down here!”

He feels laughter bubble up in his chest as he realizes you’re completely drenched, your hair is stuck to your face and your dress is practically dripping like the clouds above.

“You come up! It’s pouring out here!” “No, you have to come down here! I came all this way, it’s only fair!”

He can’t really see your smile from where you are, but he can hear it. He can hear it and it’s like the rain doesn’t matter. It’s like this very moment proves he was an idiot not to overthink all those intimate moments between the two of you – the way your eyes would light up at his stupid emails, the way you’d let his hands linger on your neck or ears after brushing your hair out of your eyes. All the playlists, all the similarities down to the fact that you both want marigolds for your dream weddings.

The way you interlaced your fingers that night last spring, and he’s so glad you did.

“Junhui!”

He shakes his head, dropping the umbrella on his doormat before sprinting to the staircase, hearing his heart pounding in his ears as he barrels down the stone steps.

“What...what are you doing here? You’re going to get sick, I...”

He trails off as he realizes you’re staring at him with a sparkle in your eye he can’t swallow. Your smile is all teeth, and he feels his chest ache as you shrug innocently. You take a step closer, tilting your head.

“I thought you wanted to kiss me.”

He feels his cheeks hot, and he absently runs a hand through his hair.

“You’re drenched, Y/N.” “I was that night, too. We both were.”

You shrug again, before stepping out from under the stairwell back into the rain. You hold your hand out, the rain pelting it as he hesitates to take it. You wiggle your fingers, making him tongue his cheek as he takes it, letting you pull him out into the rain. You hand slides up his arm and cradles his jaw gently, and he fights himself not to lean into it but ultimately fails.

“I told Minghao I’d tell you you’re an idiot.”

He snorts, “Is that on his behalf or yours?”

“Mostly mine, but I’m sure he has his own things to say about the matter. A year, Junhui? A whole year.” Your lip is jutted in a pout, and he sighs as the rain starts to soak in through his shirt. His hair is starting to stick on his forehead, and your hand swipes it back.

“I’m sorry. I know that it’ll never be enough to say it, but I truly mean it.” He gently touches his forehead to yours, his heart warming at the way you peer up at him through wet lashes. “I don’t blame you if you don’t forgive me, either. It was a shitty thing to do.”

He hates how your eyes soften, because he feels his knees grow weak as your other arm loops around his neck. He tentatively wraps his own around your waist, pulling you closer and he swears he sees your smile grow shy.

“I wouldn’t have come all this way if I didn’t think hearing you out would be worth it.” You say softly, and a rumble of thunder makes you both flinch. A laugh escapes you, before your thumb strokes his cheek gently.

“Is this still like last spring?”

He smiles softly, “No.”

“Did you ever think this would be the first time you get to kiss me? Like this?”

He laughs, “No.”

“Is it better, though?” “Considering I’d hoped we would’ve gone on a date—” “Say yes before I regret coming all this way.” “Yes.”

Neither of you move, but he feels it. He feels the same feeling of want he did that night, the same feeling of yearning that floated off you without a single word. You tilt your head up, your nose brushing his lightly .

“I’m really cold.” “I told you to come up.” “This is more romantic.” “I hope you know ‘romantic’ can also cost you three sick days at work.”

“You’re worth all my sick days, Wen Junhui.” You mutter, pressing your lips to his. He can’t help but smile into it, his arm tightening around your waist as his other hand cups your face softly.

All the warmth from your eyes, the bashfulness of your smiles, the kindness of your heart is too much for his heart to handle. He can’t believe you’re really here, in his arms...your lips so, so soft and eager against his.

“We have to go inside. You’re going to get sick.” He forces himself to pull away, his heart melting at the way you chase his lips slightly. You frown, and he can’t help but press a chaste kiss to your pouted lip. “We can kiss all you want inside the apartment, I promise.”

You don’t seem embarrassed at all as you smile at the mention of it, even if he feels his own cheeks grow hot as you nod. He feels his entire chest swell slightly as you interlace your fingers with his and pull him towards the stairwell, biting back his giddy smile.

YOU SMELL LIKE LUMBER SOMETIMES.

You smell like the tree trunks he chops for firewood at his cabin on the weekends, and you roast his marshmallow for him – despite Minghao’s teasing.

He still picks up pinecones. He dusts them off and examines them, and the best one is always promptly delivered to you at lunchtime as he drops by the company to whisk you away. The lunch invitations that once meant you’d be holed away in the storage room with a less-sad turkey sandwich from the deli down the block, now meant you’re getting bombarded with kisses before he finally lets you get out of his car with your to-go cup of iced tea.

That wasn’t nearly the extent of your relationship with him. Now, he has a photo of you on his desk at home – and you have one of the two of you together on yours. Your pink chair is complimented often by your coworkers, and you’ve apologized to Diane for lying about a gluten allergy.

Though you’re back to being under the radar, people notice the changes. They notice that Junhui, who no longer works alongside them, is still frequently in the lobby – but he’s picking you up. He’s kissing you; he’s spinning you around and calling you, my love.

No one speaks to you unless they need something, and rarely does someone need something from you.

But Junhui?

He can’t help but need you every single day. He slips his pink stationery love letters into your purse before you leave his apartment on Sunday nights, even if he’s begged you to stay the night just one more time. He accepts invites to anything that means he can bring you with him -- drinks with Minghao, lunch with his mother, even a weekend trip that was meant to be strictly business, but he spent most of the time that he wasn’t presenting glued to you in the hotel room.

Junhui doesn’t let you take the train anymore. Junhui takes your shy offers for a nightcap that usually end up with you kissing him breathless on your couch off two glasses of wine. Junhui, of all things, holds your hand on the table at drinks with his friends that are now yours, too.

Junhui listens – to your complaints about work; to your theories about birthstones and how whoever chose them was clearly biased for September to have the sapphire; to your sweet whispers as you slip your hand down his shorts late at night, and the whiny moans of his name that slip from your throat when he’s pinned you against his mattress.

But above all?

Junhui loves you.

Unabashedly, uninhibitedly and irrevocably.

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kwanisms · 4 months ago

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It’s the season of love, or lust. Here’s a collection of 14 separate tales to keep you company this Valentine’s season. demon/incubus!Idol × fem!Reader

» back || playlist || taglist « ❑ WORDCOUNT — ❑ WARNINGS — adult language, female reader, shorter reader, reincarnated reader, chubby!Reader, smaller reader, jealousy and possessiveness, mentions of: marriage, travel, homesickness, food & alcohol consumption, history of drug use, depression & thoughts of suicide, feelings of isolation, past love, heartbreak, major character death, reincarnation, severe depression, loneliness, minor character death, food & alcohol consumption, occultism, witchcraft, demonic summoning & rituals, PTSD, graveyards, ghost hunting, communicating with spirits, hospital environments, long working hours, bodily trauma, blood, gore; see each part for full warnings! ❑ CONTENT — angst, fluff, smut; supernatural, fantasy, demons & angels, biblical, established relationships, office setting, boss!Reader, coworkers to lovers, ER doctor!Reader, demon!Idols; non idol au, demon au, farm au, hospital au; see each part for full content lists! ❑ NOTES — happy valentine's, my loves! Here is something no one asked for but I'm delivering anyway! I've got 14 stories here, 11 of which are sequels to existing aus I've created and three new ones! They're all of my existing demon aus! From Seventeen to Stray Kids to Day6, all of my demon characters are being revisited here! Taglist is open and will close at the end of January so sign up now! Thanks for the support thus far babes and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

➥ incubus!Kihyun × fem!Reader summary: After the events of her story, Y/N has had her curse broken and succubus powers removed, allowing her to live a normal life. She has managed to keep a low profile, getting a job in a diner, her entire world is turned upside down when one of the men she was tasked with seducing in her previous life shows up at the diner late one night with a bone to pick with her. read part one | read part two »» coming Feb 1

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➥ incubus!Hongjoong × fem!Reader × Seonghwa summary: After being banished to hell, Hongjoong manages to find a weak point and escapes back to the mortal realm. He only has a short time before the hounds of Hell are sent after him to bring him back and he makes the most of his time by tracking down his former servant only to find Seonghwa’s vampire curse has been broken and that he’s now happily married to the woman who destroyed everything Hongjoong built up. read part one | read part two »» coming Feb 2

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➥ incubus!Jisung × fem!Reader summary: Now that all his friends are seeming to settle down with their respective partners, Han decides to venture out on his own and explore a new city. While there, he meets someone who flips his world upside down and turns it inside out. read part one | read part two »» coming Feb 3

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➥ demon!Jeonghan × fem!Reader summary: Jeonghan lost his chance at love by being stubborn and cruel. Since then, he’d been drifting through the world, finding no meaning at continuing his meaningless charade. He refused to return to Hell but being on Earth was even more torture. He thought about just ending everything when the world came to a halt upon spotting a familiar face on the streets of Paris. read part one | read part two »» coming Feb 4

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➥ incubus!Johnny × fem!Reader summary: Y/N has been living her best life, having climbed the social ladder at work and now heads her department, thanks to the promotion she landed. She can’t forget the reason for her success and one night while at the office working late, the demon she made a deal with comes back to check in. read part one | read part two »» coming Feb 5

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➥ demon!Mingi × fem!Reader summary: Summers spent in the country used to have a sense of nostalgia but now, as you helped clear out your aunt’s old farm house, it was just hot and all you did was sweat. When you come across an old, tattered black book, things go from hot to hotter when you are transported to an alternate dimension where you meet a mysterious man who inhabits your aunt’s house on what he calls the ‘Other Side.’ read now »» coming Feb 6

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➥ incubus!Sungjin × fem!Reader summary: Since the incident at the museum, involving the old grimoire, Y/N has kept a low profile and quit her job at the museum, instead getting a job at a bookstore in a quiet part of town. It’s been three years and she still has the book, keeping it locked in a glass case in her house. The demon has not appeared since but she can’t shake the uneasy feeling she has as the fifth year anniversary of the Summoning approaches. read part one | read part two »» coming Feb 7

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➥ incubus!Yeonjun × fem!Reader summary: After a visit to the old graveyard with her friends, Y/N has had this uneasy feeling of being followed or watched. Maybe she’s being paranoid, or maybe it's the result of playing around with a Ouija board but one thing is certain; she keeps seeing someone or something watching her from the window in her bedroom. read now »» coming Feb 8

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➥ incubus!Jongho × fem!Reader summary: As a result of passing his seduction test, Jongho has become a full-fledged incubus. He’s now among the ranks of those who have made names for themselves. He finds that being an incubus comes with a great amount of freedom and responsibility. Responsibility he shirks because he can’t seem to stay away from the one who helped him pass his test: Y/N. read part one | read part two »» coming Feb 9

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➥ demon!Seungmin × fem!Reader summary: Your idea of fun was playing video games with your friends or playing beer pong at a frat party. It did not include summoning a demon in the basement of the creepy, old abandoned house at the end of Willow Avenue. read now »» coming Feb 10

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➥ demon!Chan × fem!Reader summary: Ever since she summoned him, Chan hasn’t been able to get Y/N out of his mind. He returns to her after some time and insists that she accept the proposal he made to her the last time he was there. He wants to be bound exclusively to her. Y/N is hesitant but Chan tells her to think it over while he makes his trip to visit her worth both their time. read part one | read part two »» coming Feb 11

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➥ incubus!Chanyeol × fem!Reader summary: Since their encounter and Chanyeol’s nature as an incubus exposed, he and Y/N have had a secret relationship which tends to bring out the worst jealousy in both of them. They often sneak around the hospital, meeting in secret places. read part one | read part two »» coming Feb 12

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➥ incubus!Hyunjin × fem!Reader × witch!Felix summary: After his visit, Hyunjin has moved into the house next door to Y/N and Felix, making himself at home as their neighbor and tormenting Felix by plaguing Y/N’s dreams. Hyunjin seems determined to make Felix’s life a living hell and drive a wedge between the witch and his girlfriend. read part one | read part two »» coming Feb 13

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➥ incubus!Joshua × fem!Reader summary: Ever since that fateful night where Joshua revealed himself as a demon, Joshua and Y/N have built a life for themselves, living together in her house and working at the antique shop together. When Joshua decides to take her out for a romantic Valentine’s dinner, his jealous side emerges when he thinks the waiter is flirting with Y/N so he takes her home to remind her who she belongs to. read part one | read part two »» coming Feb 14

©️ kwanisms 2018 - 2025 | all written and artistic works on this blog are protected under copyright. reposts, continuations, and translations of my works are not permitted. All graphics made by me.

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fr33time · 24 days ago

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Hi, I saw that your request are open again and I'm really happy about it since I enjoy your blog ❤ if it's fine with you could I request something with Jin, Taiga, Alan and Sho with a Reader who's always surprised and happy, their face lighting up in seconds, when being told they did a good job or praised, because they never heard words like this, maybe even more used to hearing how they always make things worse or not for anything? Even from their parents even? (little angst mixed with fluff and comfort is always good). 👉👈

I honestly get this, so I was happy to receive this request hehe. I grew up feeling like I made things worse or getting yelled at for not doing things correctly. This wasn’t specific to my parents, it was more people outside of my family, but I understand that emotion. 🫶

also just a note, hopefully I’ll upload again soon. I started working on a little series, I won’t be releasing it anytime soon because if I know myself I will abandon it for a few months. So I will not be releasing it until I finished it fully! I was motivated to write again so I’m trying to write multiple fics right now! I’ve been feeling guilty for not posting to the point where I think about leaving it altogether, but I try to remind myself that it’s fine to pace myself haha. Anyways I hope you guys are having a lovely day ✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧ ♡*.✧

GN!reader that loves praise!

Characters included: Jin, Taiga, Alan, Shohei

Hurt/comfort, fluff

Requesting rules here! (Read before requesting)

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

♡Jin

Jin never shows it, but he finds your joyfulness endearing. Especially the big smile you give him when he tells you that you did a good job. He is puzzled by it though, why do you make a big deal out of a compliment? Though it’s not like he’d get in the way of your celebrations. He likes seeing you happy and to him that’s all there is to it.

When you were delivering documents to Tohma he happened to be in Jin’s room. You flash your signature bright smile when he comments on how fast you were, Tohma notices this behaviour “You’re a very bright person for someone that’s so close to the captain” Jin gives him a mean glare at this comment. You get a little embarrassed and look away to say “I’m just not used to being told that I did a good job, that's all,” and it clicked for Jin. You’ve mentioned that your parents had high expectations of you before, but now he realizes why you act the way that you do. He doesn’t bring anything up in the future unless you tell him, but he seems to praise you more often than usual. He’s a little rough around the edges so he watches what he says, and he goes a liiiiittle bit overboard when he treats you to a luxurious dinner for the hard work you’ve been doing around Darkwick.

-★-

♡Taiga

He likes your enthusiasm and teases you about it often. “So kitty likes to be told a good job?” That was what he said when he found out about this trait of yours. He doesn’t hand out his praises often, mostly because the one who orders people around is Lulu, but once in a blue moon he’ll tell you that you did a good job. If you’re smiling then he has less trouble. He isn’t the best at remembering certain things about you, but this behaviour sticks to him because you seem more confident.

He’s not one to ask questions about you, to him if it comes up then it comes up. Will he care? It really depends on what you’re saying to him. You kind of just have to tell him, and even then he won’t ask any follow-up questions. A situation pops up where a Sinostra student is yelling at you for making a mistake for not noticing that a patron cheated at one of the tables. The student understands that Romeo will have both of their heads if he finds out. What he doesn’t realize is that Taiga is nearby and paying close attention. You could hear a loud *BANG* and instinctively ducked, when you looked up you realized that there was a bullet hole between you and the Sinostra student. When Romeo stomps up the stairs aggressively to Taiga’s room later that day, his face is insanely scrunched up. “ARE YOU INSANE? NOT ONLY DID THEY LET SOMEONE ROB US, BUT YOU PUT A HOLE IN OUR EXPENSIVE WALLS” Romeo continued to scream at Taiga, who was barely paying attention on the bed. “Calm down Lulu, you’ll get wrinkles if you look that sour.” He doesn’t care if he gets in trouble, that sinostra student was being annoying about you.

-★-

♡Alan

He looooves handing out praises to you, when it isn’t verbally he gives you a reassuring pet to let you know that you’re doing a good job. He’s happy when you’re happy, so when you give him your sweet smile he feels like he accomplished something. He gives you tasks that he’s sure you can handle so he can compliment you at all times.

He isn’t much of a talker, but he knows when to defend something close to his heart. The case in point is you, you’ve been getting to know this group of people through being around Vagastrom, and he walked into some conversation including you. He heard them saying nasty things about you and how they’ve started to dislike you because you “make things worse.” Something welled up inside of him and he couldn’t help but defend you, ending in the group being scared off. When he went to tell you, all you could do was sigh and shrug your shoulders “I knew this would happen… don’t worry about it Alan I’m used to it.” He was taken aback, why would you brush it off like that? He didn’t want to push you about it further, you looked sad enough already without saying anything. “Don’t hang around them anymore, just because you’re used to it doesn’t mean that you deserve it. You’re worth more than that.”

-★-

♡Shohei

He smirks when he sees you so happy, it’s adorable on you. Even though he doesn’t understand why you’re like that, he needs that whimsy in his life. Leo is a downer most of the time so you’re a nice change of pace, and it makes him feel like he can be human around you. He’s also one to tease you, something along the lines of “pfft… you don’t need to get that ecstatic, but you look pretty cute doing it.”

Sho overheard a conversation between you and a Vagastrom student. All he heard was “You can’t do anything right” and soon followed the sound of a door closing. He peeked into the room and saw you standing there with a sad, vacant look on your face. He wanted to say something to that guy, but he was too late to the conversation. “Hey, why didn’t you stand up for yourself?” He finally spoke up and mildly surprised you “It’s okay Sho, I’m used to hearing stuff like that and I don’t want to fight about it…” your voice grew quieter at the end. He knew it affected you, I mean he gets it, he didn’t exactly grow up in the happiest place but he still hated that you of all people knew how it felt. He waved you over into the kitchen “Come on, you choose what I get to make for us.” It’s all he could do to comfort you, but you get to enjoy his delicious cooking to make you feel better.

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#tokyo debunker #tkdb #tokyo debunker x reader #tokyo debunker headcanons #headcanon #tokyo debunkers #jin kamurai #jin x reader #taiga hoshibami #taiga x reader #shohei haizono #shohei x reader #alan mido #alan x reader

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joongieology · 4 months ago

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2U | Jeong Yunho

Pairing: Jeong Yunho X Reader

Genre: Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 2.4k

Tags/Warnings: University AU(?), cussing, mention of violence, possessive!Yunho, obsessive tendencies (please let me know if I missed something!)

Sypnosis: You're sure that your best friend has always been kind and friendly with everyone, so when you found out otherwise, you did not want to believe it, or maybe you're in denial.

Song Recommendation: 2U by Justin Bieber

Note: I've been working on this for a while. The idea behind this story is so good but I'm not sure if I delivered it properly >_< Anyways, happy reading!!

Disclaimer: The following content is a work of fiction and does NOT represent the written member in any way.

You've known Yunho since, like, forever. You can't even remember how you first met him, just that you've known him since you were in grade school. Wherever you are, he'd be there too. You two were inseparable. So when you got accepted to the university you've always dreamt of attending, and he didn't, he was beyond devastated.

You were sitting side by side on the couch of your apartment when you checked the results. You squealed in happiness seeing that you got accepted. You immediately looked over Yunho with a big smile, but it slowly disappeared when you saw his expression. He was just sitting there silently, disappointment evident in his eyes, with a hint of...anger? But his expression changed right away when he heard your voice.

"Yuyu?" You called out to him slowly, gently tapping him on the shoulder. He always loves it when you call him by the nickname you made for him; it sounds almost angelic when it comes from your lips. It's as if he is an angel himself, or so you thought. He looked over to you and gave you a tight smile.

"I didn't get in. I got waitlisted." He almost couldn't get the words out; it felt like something was blocking his throat. Just thinking about you being away from him and being surrounded by other people, especially men, made him want to pull his hair out.

You hugged him from the side, slowly caressing his arm, trying to comfort him.

"That's alright; we can still meet from time to time. Every day, or maybe five times a week, or on the weekends, if we're not too busy..." You tried to sound convincing, but even you were sad with the thought of being away from Yunho. You were always together that you forgot the feeling of being alone, so the idea of not having him by your side in a new school, a new environment, tormented you.

The university was far from where you currently live, so it would be quite hard to see each other much, considering you'll also have to stay at the dorm once college starts. Unless he finds another school in the same city the university is at.

You pulled away from the hug, thinking about other ways to comfort him.

"Would you like to stay over...?"

Yunho staying over is nothing new. He always sleeps over when it gets too late while you're having a movie marathon, completely forgetting about the time. He almost always sleeps on the couch, except that one time.

You were at the kitchen, getting some water because you were parched from bingeing your current favourite TV show, when someone knocked at the door. You looked at the clock; it's currently two in the morning. Who could be here at this hour? You peeked through the peephole to find no one. Okay, now, what the fu— Your line of thoughts was interrupted when you heard another pair of knocks. "Y/N." Someone from the other side of the door whispered, so low you almost didn't hear it. Yunho. You opened the door to find a nearly zombie-like looking Yunho. He was crouching down, back towards the door. He looked up at you from his position and grinned. "Hi." He said with a smile, standing, then hugging you, practically putting all his weight on you. He reeks of alcohol. "Yuyu, can you stand properly? You're so big, and you're putting all your weight on me!" You whisper-shouted, not wanting to wake your neighbours. He giggled like a kid while you're still struggling trying to hold him up. He attempted to stand properly and started walking to your bedroom, but he ended up walking in zigzag. When he finally got to your room, he removed his shoes, shirt, and pants, leaving only his boxers on, then lay down on your bed. Even when drunk, he still remembered how you dislike getting on the bed with outside clothes on. You felt your cheeks flush. You shut your eyes and turned around. Inhale, exhale. This would've been nothing to you if your friendship was purely platonic, which it was until it wasn't. You honestly don't know when, but one day, you just started to look at Yunho...differently. You're suddenly aware of every little thing he did for you that you weren't aware of when you only saw him as your best friend. Like remembering the things you like, you don't like, and doing things for you—for your convenience. But of course, you wouldn't dare confess your feelings to him, fearing that it might ruin your lifelong friendship. You faced the bed, eyes still shut but peeking a little, and you walked towards Yunho and covered him with your blanket. You stared at him peacefully sleeping on your bed, in your apartment, with nothing but a pair of boxer shorts on. He looked like a prince. You went over to the other side of the bed, lifting the blanket to get under it, when your eyes caught something purple on the side of his waist. It was a bruise. What did he do? Where was he? Why does he have a bruise like this? You took note of asking him tomorrow about this and also putting a cold compress on it, then you went to bed.

After that night, you asked him about the bruise, but he just shrugged it off and told you that he just bumped into something and not to worry too much about it. You did not press further because he looked like he didn't want to talk about it at all.

"Would that be alright...?" He answered you with a question.

"Yeah, I mean, you often sleep over anyway; it's no big deal."

He showed you a smile and kissed you on the forehead, like he always does.

-~-

It was officially the first day of college, and you stood in front of the gate, mentally preparing yourself for the new environment you'll be facing. No Yunho, no nothing, just you and the infinity necklace he had given you before you moved over to the dorm—and your things of course.

While walking, you looked around, scanning the buildings, trying to look for the building name written at the schedule given to you, which was saved to your phone.

You bumped into someone looking as confused as you.

"Are you a freshman, too?" You build up the courage and start the conversation. If you want to make friends, better make one now.

"Yeah." she answered, looking awkward.

You glanced at her phone and saw the exact same schedule as yours.

"Oh! We're classmates!" Excitement was evident in your tone. At least you'll have a friend among your classmates, or so you hope.

You looked for your building together, almost getting a headache from going around the campus. When you finally found the building, you immediately went to your room, and class started.

Lunch came, and you went to the cafeteria with your newfound friend. You were peacefully munching on your lunch, thinking about what Yunho would be doing right now—when someone placed their lunch beside yours. You smelt his perfume and instantly knew.

"Hi." He was smiling yet again.

"You—why—what are you doing here??" You don't know what to ask first. You were just genuinely happy he was here. Even when other students that were sitting near your table started to scatter away while murmuring something among themselves, you still didn't care.

You hugged Yunho around his neck.

"I go here now."

"What—how??"

"Long story. Don't worry about it. What's important is I'm here now, right?" He uncapped a drink—your favourite drink—and placed it in your hands.

You nodded, sipping on the drink. You glanced over at your friend sitting beside you, her face pale with shock written all over it, while staring at Yunho.

"What's wrong?" You asked, concerned.

"N-nothing." She gave you a tight smile and went back to eating.

Odd. You gazed at Yunho, and he just gave you a shrug with that infamous smile of his, urging you to finish eating.

The next few days went by. You were thrilled to have Yunho at the same school. You always hung out together, sometimes bringing your friend along with you. Yunho didn't seem to mind, saying, 'As long as you're happy.'.

College was actually tolerable, better than you imagined. Your friend invited you to go to a party on Friday night, insisting you bring Yunho too.

You talked about this with Yunho. At first he was reluctant, claiming your friend is not trustworthy and you shouldn't be hanging out with her too much, but eventually, he agreed.

The place of the party was not too far away from the university. It was a big house with a pool in the backyard and a beautiful garden at the front. It was packed, some people dancing, some just hanging out drinking beer or heavy liquor, some kissing, and some smoking...weed?

Is this a fucking frat party?!

Well, might as well have fun; besides, Yunho is here with you anyway, so nothing will happen... right?

Your friend dragged you and Yunho to the kitchen and handed each of you a beer she got from the cooler.

You drink occasionally, most of the time with Yunho, but you've never really been a heavy drinker. Him, on the other hand, has a high tolerance; that's why you were surprised when he came to you drunk that night.

You were getting pretty dizzy when Yunho snatched the can of beer you were holding. It was your third, halfway done. You leaned onto his chest, and a whiff of his perfume reached your senses, causing you to giggle.

"Gosh, you smell sooo good~~" You were still giggling, looking up at him, eyes half-lidded. He took a glance at your plump lips and gulped.

Oh, you have no idea what you do to him.

He wished he could kiss you right there and then, make you feel good like you've never felt before, claim you as his, and submit himself to you, but he held back, not wanting to scare you away, not knowing you felt the same way he did.

You stared at each other, silently relaying your love for one another, hoping the other would just snap and let go.

One...

Two...

Three...

And you pulled away, excusing yourself to the bathroom. You locked the door and stared at your reflection.

Y/N, just tell him already!!

You wanted to pull your hair out of frustration, but you tried to calm down.

What if he doesn't feel the same way? What if he likes someone else and just sees me as his friend? Never mind.

You composed yourself before going out and heading back to the kitchen. You stopped in your tracks when you heard your friend and Yunho's voice.

"What the fuck is so special about her that you'd do all that for her?" You heard your friend's voice.

"She's everything I want; she's everything to me, something you'll never be." Yunho's tone was so low, it almost scared you.

You've never been scared of Yunho once in your life; he has always been so nice and gentle towards you. He never did something that would scare you in any way, so you assumed he was like that with everyone else.

"I wonder what her reaction would be if she finds out what you're doing behind her back." She mocked Yunho.

"I fucking dare you. I won't even look your way if not for her. She considered you her "friend" that's why I've tried to put up with you, but this fucking stops now. Stop throwing yourself at me and don't show yourself in front of us ever again, or"—you heard him step forward—"I'll fucking make you."

She actually tried to throw herself at him?

Bitch.

You heard footsteps, and then there he is, looking at you with a shocked expression, eyes as round as they can be, mouth slightly agape. Then you closed the distance between you and...

You kissed him.

You're kissing him.

You're kissing Jeong Yunho.

Fucking finally.

You had to tiptoe to reach his lips. When he recovered from the shock, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, and kissed you deeper, more passionately. He's been waiting all his life for this, and he wasn't about to let the opportunity pass.

When you ran out of air, you pulled away from him slightly.

"I have something to tell you." He spoke first, gulping, thinking about what your reaction would be. This is it.

He led you to the poolside and sat there, folding his pants so as not to get them wet, then dipped his feet in the pool. He removed his denim jacket and placed it beside him, patting it, signalling you to sit on it. You obeyed, dipping your feet as well, the cold hitting you immediately.

Then he confessed. Confessed everything he's been doing since he met you. Like pushing away other kids so you'll only play with him. Threatening other guys to never pursue you or even look your way. Fighting with other guys when they said something bad or sexual about you. And the most recent thing is having to beat up someone just so he'll get in the same university as you.

You tried to process everything, trying to take in the new information. You honestly don't know what to feel, a surge of emotions hitting you all at the same time. You never knew he was so possessive of you; well, of course you knew that he wanted all your attention on him, but not to that extent.

Were you so naive to not notice all that? How he was so cold towards everyone and only kind to you? How much he dislikes it when someone tries to get your attention? All the subtle glances and hand gestures he does behind your back, trying to warn others to not disturb you? Were you really? You never noticed all that? Or maybe you did; you just never cared because it benefitted you. You never cared as long as he's with you. You never cared as long as you always got your way. You ignored everything for the sake of you and your relationship with each other. And maybe, just maybe, you are just as crazy as him.

Feedbacks are highly appreciated!!

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the-witty-pen-name · 4 months ago

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The Love Triangle from Hell (5)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Following the events of PART FOUR, you all begin to pick up the pieces and start to heal.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: kissing, messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing/name calling; arguments; crying; hurt/comfort; angst; miscommunication; jealousy; happy ending; fluff

A/N: We have made it to the final part of our story. I'm honestly sad to see it end- but it's not *really* over, is it? Again, everyone who has commented and reblogged- you are my muse. It was your kind words who kept me motivated. Thank you so much. You all are so amazing. Please, please, please don't hesitate to send me questions or requests- do you want to see more post-story drabbles, more angsty flashbacks, headcannons? Let me know and I will do my best to deliver. My inbox is open for requests.

Alternative ending coming soon!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Because Steve crashed at his parent’s house, he hadn’t been home to see that Eddie never came back last night. Instead, he woke up in his childhood bedroom after a night of tossing and turning. He wanted to call you- he picked up the phone and hung it up so many times last night. He knew you probably wouldn’t appreciate it, so he resolved to wait until morning. He hardly slept.

With tear stained cheeks, Steve knew he needed to get up and shower. After he was dressed for the day, he sat at the edge of his bed, staring at the wall. He didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t want to go home yet. He couldn’t face Eddie. He was so embarrassed and ashamed.

He needed to take a walk to clear his head. He ended up deciding to get coffee. There was a coffee place he walked to and after that, with 2 coffees and a bag of bagels in hand. He decided to stop by your apartment. You’d have coffee and bagels and talk this out. If you would let him, it would be his do over to make up for last night.

He walked up to your apartment two steps at a time balancing the coffee tray carefully with both hands to not spill. He lets himself take a moment. He smooths out the front of his jacket. And tousled his hair to look a little more presentable. He hopes you don’t slam the door in his face when he knocks. He stands up straighter when he hears the door unlock.

You open the door, but not all the way. You poke your head out from behind the partially open door. You’re still in your pajamas. A very old t-shirt that Steve has seen you in a million times before and flannel pajama pants- you look your best like this, Steve thinks. His brows furrowed in confusion when you step out onto the porch with a sweatshirt and don’t invite him in.

“I got you a coffee,” he offers, “a peace offering for last night.”

. I was being an asshole.”

“Listen, Steve..,” you begin. You cross your arms over your chest and look down at your feet. “I don’t know how to say this… Now isn’t the right time…”

“I’m sorry, I just thought we could talk in person,” he explains, “I just wanted to- you know, apologize in person.”

“I get it.”

“I- I just, look,” he says gathering his thoughts, “I didn’t handle any of this right- at all. I’m never going to be able to forgive myself for taking this long to realize my feelings, but…”

“Steve. Stop- listen,” you say anxiously, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “Before you go on, I need to tell you…”

“What is it?”

“Eddie stayed over last night.”

Oh.

“Oh…”

“Steve-”

“He’s still here, isn’t he?” Steve finally catches on. You hang your head, unable to look him in the eye. He blinks back the threat of tears. “Okay, um,” he clears his throat. “I’ll, uh, get out of here.”

“Steve- wait…”

“No, no it’s okay, really,” he tries to insist, trying his best to not break his cool. “Uh, anyways- take the coffee and stuff, anyways… I gotta go anyway.”

He’s down the stairs and down the block before you can stop him. You slip back inside. You leave the coffee and the paper bag on the table. You couldn’t touch them. You take a seat at the kitchen table, staring at them. Eddie was still asleep, easily slept through Steve’s knocking. It’s a few minutes of solitude, just lost in thought, before the front door opens with a whoosh.

“I’m surprised you’re up,” Robin marvels, kicking off her shoes. She hangs up her jacket, she’s wearing her same clothes as yesterday. You offer her a knowing smile.

“Yeah,” you agree. “You just missed Steve.”

“What does that mean?” she asked hesitantly. “Did you and Steve-”

“Nope,” you say, realizing now what that sounded like. You shake your head- you have so much to fill her in on. “Eddie’s here- and Steve showed up with coffee and bagel for me.”

“Wait. Wait. Wait,” she hurries over and takes the seat across from you- taking one of the coffees. “You slept with Eddie?”

“Eddie and I went to Lover’s Lake after the game-”

“Ew! Did you do it in the van?” Robin gasps.

“No!” You say embarrassed, “We were just there, and Steve followed us. He started banging on the side of the van and scared the shit out of me.”

“What did he say?”

“Get your fucking hands off my girl.” You watch Robin’s jaw drop.

“No, he didn’t!”

“He did! And he called me ‘baby.’”

“What happened after that?”

“Well, Eddie drove me home and I invited him to stay. It wasn’t like that at first. I just- you weren’t home and I didn’t want to be alone so I asked him to stay with me.”

“Sounds like it was that from the beginning,” Robin teases. “And Steve came here this morning to apologize and win you over and you had to tell him you slept with Eddie.”

“Pretty much,” you nod. “He’s still here.”

“Eddie’s still here?”

“Yeah, he’s asleep.”

“Holy shit, dude.”

“I know!”

“Explains that huge hickey,” she jokes and you swat her arm. “Was he.. Was he good?”

Your eyes widen, “Robin!”

“I don’t know what to ask!” She holds her arms up in surrender. “So are you and Eddie, like together?”

“We didn’t really talk about that yet.”

“He’s been in love with you since he was like 17,” Robin points out. “You think he’s going to not want to be with you?”

“No- it’s just, it’s all happened so fast. I just don’t want to ruin anything.”

“I’m gonna call Steve,” Robin says, “I want to check on him.” You nod in agreement.

“Yeah, that would be good,” you agree.

The door creaks open when you slip back into your bedroom. In your absence, Eddie has starfished out on his stomach and has taken up the whole mattress. In just his boxers, he snores very softly as the light from the window is starting to beam in through the panels of your blinds. You walk over to the side of the bed, crouching down to be eye level. You gently stir him awake.

Eddie can’t put into words how incredible a feeling it is that you are the first thing he sees when he wakes up. He smiles lazily with his face squished against the pillows. He reaches out and beckons for you to join him back in bed. He scoots over so you can have space to slide in next to him. The messy bed and the cozy blankets are so inviting, it would be just enough to help you forget about what’s waiting for you outside this little sanctuary.

“Come on,” he pouts, and you can’t help but concede. He pulls you into him, spooning you. He pulls the blankets over the two of you. You turn to face him, but he keeps his arm slung over your waist.

“Steve was just here,” you whisper.

“Are you okay?” he asks, concerned. The news of Steve’s visit wakes him up. You nod.

“Yes, it was just a hard conversation,” you volunteer. “He knows you stayed here last night.”

“How’d he take that?” Eddie asks.

“Um, I could tell he felt hurt,” you admit, “he brought me breakfast; wanted to apologize and try it over with me… I told him you were here, and he accepted it. He was clearly upset, but he didn’t take it out on me. He, um, looked devastated. But he just left after I told him.”

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie asks, sounding shy and suddenly unsure of himself.

“Of course,” you say encouragingly.

“What did last night mean? You know, like- where do we stand?” Eddie isn’t sure if he even wants to know the answer. He’s so worried you’re going to reject him- tell him last night was a mistake. He’s bracing himself for the heartache of losing you.

You trace your hand gently over the side of his face, helping move his hair away from his eyes. Is it even still a question? You can’t help but smile. It all makes sense.

“I love you, Eds,” you confess and it feels like the weight of the world lifts off his shoulders. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see that,” you apologize, but he’s too wrapped up, he doesn’t even care. He pulls you in for a kiss, slow and passionate. Everything feels right- finally.

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” he murmured against your lips.

Your senior year (Eddie’s second), Eddie finally convinced you to sneak out on a Tuesday night and come see Corroded Coffin play at The Hideout. Your parents would kill you if they knew you were at a bar forty-five minutes away past eleven on a school night to see some boy with long hair and tattoos play in his metal band. They wouldn’t care if you insisted he was just a friend. Thankfully, this is something they will never find out.

Eddie felt on top of the world that night. He played better than he ever has, because you were there to impress. He could watch you, as you sat comfortable at a table all to yourself, singing along to songs you had no idea where even about you. You cheered and clapped at the end of every song- not caring if you were the only one in the room to acknowledge them.

“Are you gonna ask her out tonight?” Jeff asks, covering his microphone between songs.

“I don’t know- maybe. Shut up,” Eddie flushes, petrified you would hear. You hadn’t- you were completely oblivious to the way you made him feel.

“If you don’t, I will!” Gareth whisper-shouts over his drum set. He laughs when Eddie turns around and flips him off. When he turns back around, you lamely throw him two thumbs up and grin widely. He mouths “Dweeb” to you across the bar and you stick your tongue out at him.

Eddie did attempt to ask you out that night. Unfortunately, he was so nervous when he did it, you didn’t realize he had meant for it to be a date. He still cringes at how he ended up paying for Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Max to play mini golf and how shocked he was when they ended up tagging along. When he thought it couldn’t have gotten worse, the rest of Hellfire showed up as well. Since when did he have this many friends? He remembered thinking.

Robin calls Steve a few times before she’s able to get through. She must have caught him right as he was getting home.

“Yeah?” He sounds irritated.

“Wow,” she says with a tisk. “Rude much?” She hears him take a breath.

“I’m sorry, long day,” he mumbles.

“It’s like 9:30,” Robin muses and he scoffs.

“So you know?” He asks.

“I know.”

“I’m a fucking douchebag!” Steve exclaims, upset with himself still- clearly. “I can’t blame her for wanting nothing to do with me.”

“You’re her oldest friend, Steve,” Robin points out, “She didn’t say she wanted nothing to do with you. She and everyone else I’m sure just everything to go back to normal.”

“Normal except she’s with Eddie and I have to be around that everyday.”

“Like how she was with you, for I don’t know- years! You’re being hypocritical. Don’t you think?”

“Did she say that she and Eddie are together?”

“Not explicitly,” she says hesitantly, “Come on, Steve. You gotta let it go.”

Steve flops down onto the couch and groans. He knows he’s being hypocritical- he knows he isn’t being fair. It doesn’t make the pain hurt any less. Something he couldn’t shake tugs at the back of his mind. You didn’t tell him you and Eddie were together, just that he stayed over. That doesn’t mean that you’re necessarily together. He knows he’s fooling himself. It’s so hard to just let it go.

“The whole thing is way too close to home,” Robin muses, “maybe expand your dating pool to outside your immediate friend group?”

“I just need to actually hear her say it,” Steve says, but in agreement with Robin. “I just won’t be able to let it go until I actually hear it from her that she has no feelings for me.”

“You’re a glutton for punishment,” Robin points out and he knows she’s right. “You need to figure out yourself. Do you actually love her? Or was it the idea of living her that you got so wrapped up in?”

“What are you talking about?”

“There’s a difference. Were you actually in love with your best friend, or were you just in love with the idea of having someone you love who knows you like a best friend? Like you’ve known her for so long, and you’ve never thought of her as more than a friend until very recently? It might make sense you were wrapped up in the idea of it all- than actually falling in love with her. Does that make sense?” She takes a long pause. “The romanticism of it all, being wrapped up in that- you know?”

“Maybe,” he concedes. “It would’ve been really great.”

“It would’ve,” Robin agrees. “But it wasn’t meant to be.”

“No?”

“No.”

When Eddie gets back to the apartment later, he doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t know if Steve will take a swing at him, if he’ll yell, or if he will even be there. He doesn’t know what to anticipate Steve’s reaction to be.

Surprised, Steve is sitting in their living room… calm. He looks solemn. He’s sitting on the same chair he sat the day of the huge fight. He’s staring at the spot where Nancy sat, and then his eyes move over to where you were. Eddie clears his throat to make himself known. Steve looks up like he’s been snapped out of a trance.

“I’m sorry, man,” Steve says, immediately. “I really fucked that up.”

“I don’t know- I get it,” Eddie sympathizes. “The whole situation is fucked.”

“Yeah, totally.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Steve drags his hands across his face. Eddie can tell he hardly slept. He looks exhausted. “I will get over it, I’m sure. I just need a little time to get my shit together. Get over myself, you know?” He jokes in a self-deprecating manner. Eddie offers a sympathetic smile, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. They both know they’ll be fine in time.

The next morning, you’re at their apartment door first thing with coffee in hand.

“Do-over?” You ask with a tilt of your head when Steve opens the door.

“Do-over,” he offers a half smile, taking one of the to-go cups from your hand.

“Eddie’s left for work already?” You guess and he nods. You stand in the door frame, face to face in a few long moments of silence.

“I really miss my best friend,” you say finally.

“Do you still even want to be friends after all of this?” Steve asks, stepping aside so you can come in.

“Steve,” you say with a deep breath. “I always want you to be in my life. You are my oldest friend and I hate that everything has blown up the way it has. I know we can’t go back to the way everything was before. We can move past this, together, can’t we?”

“I really missed you too,” he admits. “I talked to Robin- I think she was right about a lot of things. You and Eddie- you guys are my best friends. I can’t stand in the way of you too. I think like how I was so hung up on Nancy- I was idealizing her; remembering just the good parts. I know I would’ve been so happy to end up with you. But I think I was more in love with an idea.”

“I get that. I think I’m guilty of that myself,” you chuckle, thinking back to the many years you held Steve up on a pedestal. He smiles back at you- a wide, all encompassing Steve Harrington smile. You had him back. “So, we’re going to be okay?” you ask, a smile creeping onto your lips.

“We’re okay,” he reaffirms.

A few months later, following the truce with Steve, everyone is piled into Steve and Eddie’s living room. A movie is playing you’ve all long since forgotten about. Nancy and Jonathan sit in the love seat, his arm around her as they watch amused as Steve and Robin argue- both of them standing on opposite ends of the coffee table as they debate the logistics of whether or not it’s pronounced “Duh-MEE” or “Dem-EE” Moore. Neither one of them plans to back down anytime soon.

Vicky watches from her seat in the recliner like a tennis match, her eyes bouncing between her girlfriend and Steve- enough to give herself whiplash. This was not how she expected her first movie night with Robin’s friends to go- but what else would she expect besides utter chaos.

“I thought something was gonna be catching on fire,” Eddie whispers in your ear. “This is boring,” he says in reference to the movie.

His arms sit loosely around your waist as you sit on his lap. Your legs lay across his lap, resting your head on his shoulder as you sit together in the chair opposite Vicky. You can’t help but laugh at his commentary.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen, hun,” you say with a smile, offering condolences for his disappointment in the movie.

“You’re a moron if you think it’s Dem-EE,” Robin shouts, losing her patience with each passing second. “Everyone knows it’s Duh-MEE!”

“Robin- I swear to god! It’s Dem-EE- it would be spelled differently if it was Duh-MEE,” Steve argues.

“It’s French!” Robin yells, exasperated, ready to pull out her hair. She couldn’t believe that he’s still pushing this issue.

Eddie runs his hand up and down your leg as he tries to act remotely interested in the movie. He knows you like it, so he’s trying his hardest to pay attention despite the distractions- Robin & Steve’s antics sure, but more so, sitting so close to you. He can smell your shampoo and your skin is so smooth when he touches it. It’s hard to not be consumed but the sensation. He squeezes your hip, and kisses your temple.

Eddie loves the simple touches. It’s the things he thought about for so long. It’s so easy. The things he always wanted to say to you, everything he wanted to do are just habitual now. He can grab your hand and kiss the back whenever he gets the urge. He can tell you he loves you randomly whenever he pleases. He can kiss you- kiss you everywhere. He wishes he could go back and tell himself that he got the girl- that she loves him just as much. Tell him it’s better than he ever imagined it.

The dust has settled. The worst of it all seems to be behind you all. Steve has a date lined up for tomorrow night and it seems he’s finally been able to let the idea of you go. Maybe, you’ll always be the one that got away, but he knows he’ll find the person he was always meant to be with. He has a really good feeling about the girl he’s seeing tomorrow.

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! Please let me know if you liked it. I decided on doing a follow-up story (maybe 3 parts?) focusing on this Steve and an another reader insert! Hopefully that's not too confusing lol It's going to focus on Steve meeting someone new, and falling for her. It can be read as a standalone or as a follow-up to this story. I'm going to do my best to have it out as soon as I can. Let me know if you like the idea or if it's too confusing.

TAGLIST: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs @v3lv3tf0x @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @sunshine-mrk @danymunsonharrington @mrsjellymunson @fanficfantik

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jaal-ama-daravv · 5 months ago

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dissecting act 3 & emmrichs final romance scene (mortal & lich)

dissecting the graveyard scene dissecting the mortal romance path scene dissecting the mortal emmrich argument scene (all routes) emmrich x rook cinematic (mortal)

lich version dissecting the alternate romance path dissecting the argument scene (lich path) dissecting the emmrich romance scene (lich) mortal vs lich romance path emmrich x rook cinematic

look this is half a thirst trap post im not gonna lie to ya

ACT 3 - OH MY GOD.

Now. We all know that dreaded argument scene that fills us with angst and really gets us in our feelings for the final 4 hours. which was 100% done on purpose, thanks bioware, you succeeded. i did in fact regret that conversation and cried immensely

We have the argument with Emmrich, then we have our mini resolution of Emmrich trying to apologise, and Rook responding with, "We'll talk back home Emmrich, I promise."

Fast forward an hour, and ive just about pulled the plug because emmrich gets trapped by Ghil, someone dies, and then we are sucked into the fade - trapped. FOR WEEKS.

I truly wish bioware included flashbacks, or rook being able to see the lighthouse whilst they were trapped so that we see our LI panic, and fret. Can you imagine Emmrich? The last conversation they had was a fight, and a fight that stemmed from love at that. regardless of the route you took, both rook and emmrich regret that argument deeply. I mean deeply. And most likely regret not saying, i love you in that moment. or any moment. god when emmrich got sucked up by ghil i was locked IN. nothing was stopping me.

Emmrich wouldn't of been able to sleep, he wouldn't of been eating, he would've been working day AND night like a dog on the dagger. he wouldve been irritable, he wouldve been incessant, he wouldn't of been put together, not clean shaven. id bet money on this.

despite bioware not giving us a good reconciliation scene or a glimpse at what happend during those weeks - BOY DID THEY FUCKING EAt with the pulling you out of the fade section. Oh my god. Emmrich's voice being timed right after Varric saying with "You have everything you need", AND THEN PULLING YOU OUT OF THE FADE WITH HIS ARM.

anyway - AFTER T H A T.

You have the romance scene (mortal dissection | lich dissection)

and then my god - i have no words - literally - just look

goodbye ovaries

The Final Goodbye (Mortal/Lich)

Now these are the exact same for both mortal and lich, ill tell you when its different below - to which this is dissapointing as I feel like the final romance scene is so 'meh'? it's very idk, scripted. I feel like there needs to be a dip in emmrichs voice when he says i love you to rook - maybe its just me, but regardless, its meh meh to me. the whole scene is just kinda -

I'll skip to the romance part anyway as there is nothing of substance in the first half

1. I love you, too.

I feel like - underwhelmed with this response. its just slapped on like a bumpersticker

2. I'm glad we met.

I cannot believe that this line of dialogue is hidden beneath the most basic of thought processes - i love it

its emotonal - its hopeful

YESSSS - PLAN WITH ME!!!! This is digustingly impactful if playing the mortal path. the man has hope for the future. oh I need not say more for its delivered so wonderfully.

HEHE

3. Be safe. I can't lose you.

I thoroughly enjoy this path, I feel so much emotion from Rook and Emmrich in these lines. the worry, the love. although it is kind of a shock to the system because we still went from. OH MY GOD DEATH, to oh yeah death with Emmrich.

exactly how the argument scene should've went, BUT, I get it, now if only we had a reconciliation scene in the middle or a conversation, i'd have no notes and be out of business

Now here is the divergence, of like two lines, that occurrs directly after the above dialogue

Lich Version

Mortal Version

its sweet, its sensual, its loving. but there no oomf. theres no, fear. the mortal version is my preference here as I like the slight reminder of emmrich being alive. in saying that, considering what we have been enamored with and reminded of at every single quest of his. but in the last romance dialogue its, gone? the fear overcome? one line, one word makes a difference. idk man. like I have my full speculation that there is a sequel with rook and companins again, and if there is ill let this go. but if this is it, WITH no epilogue screen? please, as much as i like fanfiction and headcanons and art. id like it IN the game.

a fantastic romance, but a stale last conversation. IN SAYING THAT. I choose to look past it as much as possible as it is sweet and I just love him.

ANYWAY, love you all, im pen for questions and the full emmrich dissection with all my very detailed explantions is coming in a few days

♥

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 7 months ago

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[wip!] the art & science of parenting || jay park

update: this fic's been posted!! click here to read!

a/n: hellaur everyoneeee here's a lil summary & drabble into another wip i'm working on rn,,,i had this idea in the back of my head for SO incredibly long (im talking since 2021 pls) and decided to finally go for it :') so here's a lil peek for the time being to prove i'm still alive heh. i hope you guys like this concept,,,idk why but i really envisioned jay in this trope maybe because i plan on making it very fun & lighthearted but mixed in with some serious & angsty tones...we shall seeeee....you know i love my college!aus and e2l!aus heheh anyways saur sorry im yapping now! lmk what you think & if you want to be tagged !!

genre: jay x female!reader, fluff, comedy, college!au, enemies to lovers!au, parenting!au (parenting a robot baby LMAO), sum angst maybe, both reader & jay are smartasses who don't know how to communicate and confront their feelings , also a bit of photographer!jay :')

summary: The Art & Science of Parenting 101 (PSY1009) – In this interactive course, students will explore the psychological, social, and biological foundations of parenthood. Through a mix of theory and hands-on practice, you'll master the art of raising a simulated baby—aka the 'robot child.' Late-night feedings, tantrum taming, and crisis control are all part of the deal. What you didn’t expect to be part of the deal? Getting paired with Jay Park—the last person you’d trust to raise, well, anything. You’re pretty sure he couldn’t even take care of a pet rock. Now, you’re stuck co-parenting this robot baby together for 40% of your final grade. Warning: Sleep deprivation is guaranteed. And maybe, just maybe, some unexpected feelings for your disaster of a partner. Good luck!

longer drabble under cut! <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

"Y/N and Jay."

Wait. What?

Your head snaps up so fast it's a miracle it didn't pop off your neck and roll away.

You blink. You must have misheard.

"Y/N and Jay," Professor Kim repeats as if she could read your confused expression, voice too nonchalant for the life-wrecking news she's about to deliver: "You two are partners."

The words hit you like a bus. No, not even. The words hit you like a bus driven by a T-Rex that flips over, crashes into a building, and explodes into a million ashy pieces. And there you are—standing right in the middle of the wreckage, somehow still alive to suffer through every second of it—while Jay, smug as ever, whips around in his seat to face you.

And of course, there it is: that look of his that screams 'This is going to be so much fun for me, and so much pain for you.'

"Guess we're parents now, Y/N!" Jay chimes, his voice dripping with so much sarcastic enthusiasm you swear he just got handed an Oscar for Most Annoying Human. If that tone were a substance, you'd bottle it up and use it as insect repellent. On him. Repeatedly.

You blink at him, you're sure—you're praying—this has to be some elaborate prank. Maybe Jay bribed Professor Kim with his rare attempt at turning in an assignment on time just to mess with you. Or maybe the universe just hates you and this is your karma for stealing your roommate's last ramen packet that one time a year ago.

But no, Professor Kim keeps rattling off other pairs like it's business as usual, as if your entire academic career and sanity isn't currently being flushed down a metaphorical toilet, while you sit there, paralyzed, your brain rapidly melting into a useless puddle from the sheer thought of being paired with him.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" Jay teases as he leans over the back of his chair towards you. "You don't want to play house with me?"

You narrow your eyes at him, mentally wielding your imaginary bug spray like it's a holy weapon. "I don’t," you reply flatly. "In fact, I’d rather perform open-heart surgery on myself with a plastic spoon than co-parent with you."

Jay’s eyes light up as his hand goes to his heart. "Aw, you really know how to make a guy feel special. This is why I like our little relationship, you know?"

"Relationship?" You scoff loud enough to make the people sitting three rows behind you to glance in your direction. "The only thing we have in common is a shared oxygen supply."

"See, that’s the spirit," he says, turning back to face the front like he didn't just ruin your life. And somehow, that pisses you off even more. Is it his voice? His stupidly perfect hair? The fact that he breathes in your general direction? At this point, he could literally sneeze, and it would still feel like a personal attack.

Is it too late to switch majors? Or schools? Maybe even countries? Surely, restarting your entire college career as a super senior would be better than spending the next six weeks parenting with Jay. Jay Park, who has probably never held anything more fragile than a Red Solo Cup.

Jay Park, who is just sitting there, all calm and collected, clearly loving every second of your misery.

While you're frozen in pure, unadulterated horror.

Your grade? Plummeting as we speak. Your robot baby? Probably going to need therapy by day two. And you?

You're screwed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

decided to go for a longer sneak peek than usual bc im very excited about this one heh :) i also changed up my title image formatting..trying out smth new !!!

lmk if you want to be tagged!

<3, addie

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viaviv124 · 6 months ago

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Guys we need to bring back Klaus x Jesper because i'm literally going insane right now

Yes this is a post convincing y'all to also fall into brianworms of this dead ship.

This movie includes spoilers for the 2019 christmas movie Klaus, so uh if you didn’t watch it yet, do that! It's good!

For the ones who did watch the movie and want a refresher or who want to be invested in the fruitcakes before watching, a small summary.

Roughly, the movie is about this spoiled brat called Jesper, who is training to be a mailman (or already is one? Idk) but barely does anything bc he's rich and spoiled rotten, so his dad sends him to a scary, far away place in the north and to go back home he needs to deliver like a million letters or sum. That's where he meets Klaus, a grumpy old man who looks like he could kill him, who ropes him into delivering toys to kids at night. Over time the two of them become close, Jesper becomes more compassionate (basically pulling a Kuzco) and Klaus gets more open and friendly. There we learn that Klaus has a fuck ton of toys in his workshop bc he and his wife wanted kids but then his wife died and he lost all joy in life, meeting Jesper and also helping other children brought him this joy back.

There's more to that movie but i'll get to my ship points now.

1. BEAR X TWINK I NEEDN'T SAY MORE. Coward twink on top of that.

2. It's fluffy as fuck. I need you to imagine the cuddles between them. Just picture them in front of a cozy fire in eachothers arms. That's the vibe. Also i need you to hear me out on my hc that Jesper sometimes braids Klaus' hair and beard with pretty ribbons. Also, hurt/comfort. A lot of it.

3. ANGST POTENTIAL OH MY GOD THE ANGST. Since Klaus is older then Jesper, Jesper will outlive him eventually. (it's hinted (or stated idk) that Klaus died at the end of the movie but lets give them a few more years) MEANING Jesper finds himself in the exact same situation he found Klaus in. Alone and grieving after having lost his big love. Will he manage to move on or be stuck in the grief? WE CAN PLAY AROUND WITH THIS.

Also on top of everything we have the spirit of the dead wife CANONICALLY DRIVING THESE TWO TOGETHER. Literally. In the movie she's represented by a gust of wind and was the one leading Klaus to Jesper, which started this entire thing in the first place. Now i need you to imagine the following. Jesper n Klaus are dating and the wife sees that Klaus is finally happy and managed to move on. So imagine one day Jesper just hears a quiet "Take care of him for me, okay?" before the spirit disappears at last, as she can also move on fully now.

(Extra to the wife thing above: y'all know the song "i'll be here"? Now apply that to Klaus and his wife and, the end part specifically, to Klaus and Jesper.)

ANYWAY THIS IS JUST A FRACTION OF MY BRAINWORMS SO PLEASE LET THIS SHIP COME BACK AGAIN

#klaus #klaus 2019 #klaus x jesper #PLEASE IM HYPERFIXATING UEUEUE #via talks

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khuzena · 6 months ago

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Fable

Pairing: Sunday x gn!reader

cw: themes of religion, emotional turmoil, mental health struggles, sin and redemption.

Synopsis: In a world engulfed with sin, Sunday feels as if there's no difference between him and the lowly sinners he preaches to. A stark irony in his thoughts and the cross that lay heavy on his chest, a preacher of Aeon Xipe, yet a damned fool that longs for a sinner. He offers redemption as if it's cheap since it only asks faith as its payment. However, the sinner he longs for has no ounce of faith in their soul. In the end, he could only sing praises— if only attaining salvation was so easy.

A/N: GUESS WHO'S BACK (no one remembers me) but I'm here to deliver angst anyways bc fuck this shit. My writing is shitty so bear with me. :(((

“Repent, sinner.” Sunday whispered as he held your hand, “Repent.”

"Sunday— let go” you drawled, voice dripping with shame. You leaned against the wall, the smoke from your cigarette curling lazily through the dim air, mingling with the stale scent of cheap perfume and old upholstery. The brothel was alive with murmured laughter and low music, the worn-out couches and faded curtains casting long shadows in the flickering amber light. Your skin was drenched in sweat, your head riddled in shame as your clothes lay bare on the floor. You've just finished servicing a client yet Sunday's invaded unknown territory; to save you, maybe.

The priest’s eyes swept the room, narrowing as if each detail confirmed his worst suspicions. His mouth twisted in a thin line of disgust as he clutched his Bible close to his chest, as if bracing himself against the "unclean" aura around him. The expression in his eyes was soft, painful—a thousand sermons held back by a single withering look.

“Please,” he said, voice clipped. “You know this isn't the answer— it's never too late.”

“Just go,” you replied, frowning without your usual certain devil-may-care charm. You let sin consume you, as it's all you've ever known. “But you’re right, Father. It's never too late for others but I'm a lost cause.”

You trail off, the musky aroma of carnal desire in the room intoxicating his ‘pure’ soul, “You're gonna save me? With what, exactly? A sermon? A confession?”

“Redemption.” He said the word as if it could wash the room clean. “Even someone like you—someone who parades their sin as if it’s a crown—you could still be saved. Even now.”

You laughed, the sound echoing off the peeling walls, more haunting than humorous. “Saved? By what, exactly? A few Hail Marys and a scolding?” You looked him up and down, that faint amusement never leaving your eyes. “Maybe I’m not the one who needs saving. Ever thought of that?”

Sunday's face darkened, his fingers tracing the edge of his Bible like it was a weapon rather than a shield. “You speak of kindness, yet you live without a shred of humility or grace. Do you really think there’s peace in… in this?” He gestured around the room, lips curling in contempt. “All I see is emptiness masquerading as freedom.”

Your eyes narrowed, your smile fading. “Freedom?” You flicked the ash from your cigarette, watching it drift to the floor like grey snowflakes. “Tell me, Father, when was the last time you felt free?” You crawled to him as he sat on the stained sheets, so close he could feel the warmth of your breath, the faint scent of smoke and cheap perfume mixing with the cold edge of his cologne. “You clutch that Bible like it’s a cage, not a comfort. You come here, looking down on us from your self-righteous mountain, but you’re the one running. From what, exactly?”

He stiffened, the muscles in his jaw tightening as if you’d struck a nerve. “I serve the Lord,” he said, voice quivering with a mixture of conviction and something darker, something unsettled. “I bring light to places that have forgotten it. I offer hope to the lost.”

You smirked, unbothered. “Hope, is it? Funny, you seem more scared than hopeful. You think that because I don’t kneel and grovel that I must be empty, but I don’t need your god to tell me right from wrong. I may be a ‘sinner’ in your eyes, but I don’t preach peace and then threaten damnation. I help the lost here, too, in my own way—without the guilt. And without shame.”

For a moment, his composure slipped, a crack appearing in the stone-cold mask he wore. He looked at you—really looked at you—as if seeing past the lipstick and the smoke to something rawer, something he couldn’t name.

“Kindness without repentance is hollow,” he muttered, almost to himself, fingers ghosting over the cross around his neck. His eyes betray his actions, he can't admit that he loves a sinner like you.

“And blind faith without understanding is cruelty,” you shot back, your voice like a knife through the heavy air. “You think kindness is something you hand down from on high, something earned by prayers and purity. But look around, Father. These people don’t need sermons. They need food, a place to sleep—a little mercy, not lectures.”

He opened his mouth, as if to counter, but words seemed to fail him. Instead, his face twisted, half pity, half frustration. “I’ll… pray for you.”

A dry laugh escapes you, a hollow sound in the oppressive quiet. “Pray for yourself, Father. You’re the one who seems lost here.”

“I just want to save you,” He reiterates, his eyes gleaming with desperation, “Please, just repent. There's always a place for you in the church”

An airy scoff escapes your lips as you smack his hand away, “A place for me? A place for a sin laden person like me?”

A pregnant silence filled the room, he clutched the cross on his neck. There must be an answer, and if there isn't, he'll make you one. His free hand reaches into his pocket, you feel a beaded bracelet rest onto your wrist. It's heavy, so heavy.

“What are you doing to me?”

“I just want to save you,” his hands trembled in sync with the flickering candle light, “Just listen to me.”

“Stop, stop—” no matter how many times you plead him to stop acting so pathetic, he implores mercy for you. The sacred bracelet on your wrist is a testament to his love and his faith— one you could never share.

Sunday vowed himself to never step into the walls of pleasure as they're the home to lust, they're home to fools who seek salvation in sex. Yet, he's here. He's here to seek salvation for you. He brought Xipe’s presence into the home of the devil, in hopes to coerce you to the brighter side.

His presence in this brothel feels like an enigma, he doesn't belong here.

“I don't want you to rot in hell,” he trails off, kissing your knuckles, “I’ve never felt this before— Xipe owns my body, my soul.”

Why does his touch feel so addicting compared to the touches of far fairer men than him?

His wings droop onto his shoulders, your clothes on the floor reflecting on his shiny halo but he doesn't budge. He doesn't want to leave you here, he knows your heart is kind, yet your body's defiled— he’s determined that he'll cleanse you, he'll cleanse you of this sin.

He presses his lips again to your knuckles, “Why do you have to be so difficult?” He mutters to himself as his sacred tears paint your tainted skin.

Xipe may own every fibre of his being, but you've taken his very soul, you've stolen it with every scornful laugh, every unrepentant sin. THEY have save you, THEY need to save you—

However, when he stares back into the abyss in your eyes, he knows you're long forsaken by their blessings.

When you don't recite the verses escaping his lips, he realises you're a lost cause.

Please, Xipe. Please do something about them—

If that's not enough, he's brought jar filled with ash.

“That's enough Sunday—”

“It's not.”

His words sunk low as he turned more desperate than a man faced with death. For you to die and rot in hell is death in itself.

You should run away, you should push him away.

You should throw him back to the cathedral he preaches in.

But a part of you wants saving.

A part of you long to be in the same world he is, in body and soul and in every prayer recited.

But you can’t.

With trembling hands, Sunday brought his fingers to the jar of ash he'd clutched as if it held the very essence of Xipe himself. His touch was reverent, fingers dipping into the blackened dust as he leaned forward, his face a mask of fevered determination. His breath was ragged, each exhale brushing against your skin like a ghost's touch, hovering close as he traced the symbol of harmony on your forehead.

The ash was cold and heavy against your skin, spreading like a dark stain over the sweat still clinging to you from moments before. Sunday’s fingers shook as he sketched each line, each curve, his brows furrowing as if with each stroke he could carve Xipe’s mercy into your very soul. His lips moved soundlessly, chanting prayers, pleading with his god to see you—to reach you. His eyes glistened, holding a desperation so raw it felt as though he were laying his soul bare with every brush of his fingers.

"Please," he whispered, voice breaking as he drew the final stroke, his forehead pressed against yours, the rough ash between you a stark reminder of the worlds that kept you apart. "Please, let this save you." His eyes searched yours, wild with a hope he couldn’t contain, pleading with a faith that was beginning to crumble as he realized that even this sacred act, this final attempt to offer you salvation, might still leave you beyond his reach.

You're still a sinner through and through.

Sunday’s fingers lingered, almost frozen against your skin as he stared at the dark symbol he’d left, the weight of it so heavy it felt like it would pull you both under. His breaths came uneven, shallow, as he fought against the reality sinking in—that his desperate plea might not reach you, that this sacred symbol he’d etched might be nothing more than a stain.

His hand drifted to your cheek, thumb tracing the faint smudge of ash, as though hoping to rub it deeper, to make it part of you in some way that went beyond flesh and bone. His eyes were wet, glistening with the weight of unspoken prayers, with the terror of a man standing on the brink of faith and despair.

“I love you— I want you.”

“Then want me.”

‘Want me without fear’ - what you should've said.

He shakes his head, swallowing. “I can’t. To want you… to touch you? I’d lose everything.” Each word is a knife, cutting through the heavy air between you.

“Then why are you here?” you murmur, your voice laced with disbelief, the irony palpable in the dim light. A saint in sacred clothing before a madonna whore.

“Because you’re worth saving.” His eyes are fierce, but they tremble.

You laugh bitterly. “Even if I don’t want it?”

“It’s not just for you!” His grip tightens around your hands, desperation bleeding into his voice. “I need to believe… that you can be saved, that I can—” He falters, his eyes darkening. “What if I’m here because I’m as damned as you?”

“Then maybe you should let go of salvation.”

His wings flutter as sobs wreck his soul. Why can't THEY save you too? Why does he have to live with the idea that you'll rot— that he can't do anything about it?

And as he kneels before you, his lips brushing over your knuckles in a final, desperate kiss, he prays—more for himself than for you.

"I’ve seen hell, and it’s not the one you think," you murmur, voice low, yet biting. "It’s in the way you look at me—like I’m nothing but a sin."

A flash of pain crosses his face, mingling with the flicker of understanding that never quite settles. Anxiety tightens his grip on your hand as he absorbs your words, though he’ll never truly understand them. He opens his mouth, but only silence falls—a prayer unsaid, a salvation he’s not even sure he can give.

His gaze drops, lingering on the thin sheet covering you like a veil over desecration, and he looks away, ashamed yet bound.

He leans in, lips hovering just above yours—a kiss he tells himself is selfless.

“I'll pray for you."

I'll forgive you.

Note: BYE BER MONTHS HIT ME LIKE A TRUCK— I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED PROGRESS OF MY WIP FICS AND I WAS IN TEARS AND JS CRASHED OUT. IM BACK BC GIGI PEREZ JS MADE ME WRIT EGAIAN

special mention: @whyiseveryname-taken bro I'm still ariting abt that angst jing yuan fic btw if u still remember 😈

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡

#hsr sunday x reader #hsr sunday #sunday fluff #honkai star rail sunday #sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #hsr fluff #hsr angst #sunday angst #honkai star rail angst #sunday smut #hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail #what have i done

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pinchofhoney · 1 year ago

Text

be careful what you wish for

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

warning: platonic relationship, quite angst-ish, text in italics is a flashback

summary: Turning in a district boy to the authorities felt like the right thing to do for Coriolanus. But what if, in doing so, he betrayed you as well?

a/n: absolutely no one asked for it, but i'll deliver it to you anyway<33 i'd say have fun but i'm not sure i'd be appropriate here

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @watercolorskyy

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

The moment Sejanus shared Billy Taup's escape plan with you, there wasn't much hesitation on your part. It's not that you acted without thinking; it's just that you didn't need much time to decide.

The summer was scorching, feeling like an unending oven. The sun never let up, and even when you hoped for cooler nights, the heat lingered. You've gotten used to the coal dust that's practically become your second skin in District 12, but what truly got to you wasn't the clinging dirt. It was the musty scent of men's sweat, a scent that clung to the air, heavy with the hard work that defined your daily life.

Being one of the few female Peacekeepers among a crowd of men wasn't your ideal situation. Many other girls had come and gone, unable to stand the sacrifices the job demanded, but you stood your ground, determined to prove yourself in this role, even if serving in this particular district wasn't your dream come true.

At least until a certain point.

When you first arrived in District 12, your main goal was to pass your officer's exam as quickly as possible and secure a transfer elsewhere. But when young Plinth kindled the idea of a life beyond authority and rules, the seed of belief in freedom took root within you. The very thought of it resonated in your mind, sounding truly incredible, and you couldn't wait to leave the filthy district behind, escaping through a gap in the wire mesh fence.

But, of course, life wouldn't be too easy if everything just went as planned, right?

One moment, you were getting ready with Sejanus and the other rebels, gathering the basics for your escape north to the supposedly destroyed District 13. The next, you found yourself standing behind one of the empty houses on the Seam with Coriolanus. He held onto your shoulders, telling you urgently that you had to leave the District as soon as possible.

“What?” was the first word that slipped from your lips, your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked at your friend. “Isn't that exactly what we're working on?” you added, slightly amused, pushing Coriolanus' hands off your shoulders.

Shaking your head, you were about to update him on your progress when he caught your forearm again. “I think you misunderstood me, Y/N,” he said, his face dead serious. “You need to get out of here now,” he continued, and seeing your raised eyebrow, he almost gritted the last word through his teeth.

“What do you mean, Coryo?” you asked, breaking the silence after staring at him for a while, tired of him speaking in riddles.

Now Coriolanus was the one staying silent, his cool eyes fixed on you. You couldn't decipher his expressions; it felt like he was betraying a hundred feelings at once and, at the same time, nothing at all.

“I… um, there's…” the blond man started, stumbling over his words, unsure how to share the information he needed to tell you. “There's a chance that the talk Sejanus and I had, which you joined not long ago, about your escape plan, might have been fully recorded by one of the jabberjays.”

You seemed not to grasp the gravity of Coriolanus' words, so you stared at him, searching for any hint in his eyes that he might be joking.

“Okay, so what?” you eventually asked, once again furrowing your brows, this time with a bit less intensity.When a twig snapped around the building's corner, you quickly turned, thinking it might be someone eavesdropping, but finding only a small hedgehog, you shifted your attention back to the boy in the bluish uniform.

“So what?” Coriolanus repeated your question, unable to believe your difficulty in connecting the dots. “Y/N, these birds are headed to the Capitol. To the lab of the woman who’s the Head Gamemaker of the Hunger Games. And do you know what the Capitol authorities do to rebels?” he asked the question, not waiting for your response. “They hang them on the hanging tree, Y/N.”

You stared at Coriolanus, steadying yourself with a hand against the wooden building. With every word he spoke, you felt the color drain from your face.

“How… How did this happen?” you asked, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Coriolanus happily took care of the mockingjays, moving their cages, tagging them, and passing them along. As Bug left with the fiftieth cage, Sejanus burst into the room, full of excitement. He shared the good news about the upcoming package from his mother with his friends, watching Bug leave with a smile before turning to Coriolanus, who had just finished dealing with the bird marked as number 1.

The bird chirped in its cage, mimicking the last mockingbird, but once Bug was gone, Sejanus' cheerful expression faded, replaced by a troubled look. He glanced around the hangar to ensure they were alone before speaking in a quiet voice.

“Listen, we've only got a few minutes. I know you might not like what I'm about to do, but I need you to at least understand it. After what you said the other day, about us being like brothers, well, I feel I owe you an explanation. Please, just hear me out.”

This was the moment, the confession.

Now was the time for the pieces to be explained, especially about the alliance with rebels and money that he found in Sejanus' belongings. Once Coriolanus heard it, he'd be as good as one of them, a traitor to the Capitol.

Panic, running, or trying to silence Sejanus could be expected, but Coriolanus did none of these things. Instead, his hands moved instinctively. His left hand adjusted the cover of the jabberjay cage, while his right, hidden from Sejanus's view by his body, reached for a remote on the counter. Coriolanus pressed RECORD, and the jabberjay fell silent.

Turning his back to the cage, Coriolanus leaned on the table with his hands, waiting.

In the middle of Sejanus' explanation, you dashed into the hangar like a hurricane itself.

“There you are!” you exclaimed, both happy and a bit annoyed to find young Plinth. “Why didn't you wait for me? I said I wanted to go to Coryo with you,” you added, crossing your arms on your chest as you closed the gap between the boys and yourself.

It seemed that Coriolanus, noticing you in the hangar, tensed up a bit. He glanced briefly at the cage with the bird recording the conversation on the table, but neither of you or Sejanus noticed, and together, you continued explaining your plan to him.

During your report, where you and Sejanus competed over who could give Coriolanus more details, he lowered his head and rubbed his brow with his fingertips. It looked like he was trying to gather his thoughts, unsure how long he could stay silent without seeming suspicious.

But Sejanus rushed on, “I couldn't leave without telling you. You've been like a brother to me. I'll never forget what you did for me in the arena. I'll find a way to let Ma know what happened to me. And my father, too. I'll let him know the Plinth name lives on, even if it's in obscurity.”

The mention of the Plinth name was enough.

Coriolanus's left hand found the remote, and he pressed the NEUTRAL button with his thumb. The jabberjay resumed its earlier song.

Something caught Coriolanus's attention. “Here comes Bug.”

“Here comes Bug,” the bird echoed in his voice.

“Hush, you silly thing,” he scolded the bird, secretly pleased it had returned to its normal pattern. Nothing to alert both of you. He quickly covered the cage with a cloth and marked it with J1.

“I swear, I have no idea,” Coriolanus lied, wearing a worried expression. “While rearranging the cages, one of them must have snagged the remote control.”

You lightly bit your lower lip, eyeing your friend. Without any reason to doubt him, you finally let out a shaky breath.

Gazing up at the sky, you counted to three in your mind to steady your nerves. Then, you looked back at Coriolanus.

“Does Sejanus know?”

“Of course, I told him first,” he lied again, his gaze fixed beyond your shoulders without losing the concerned look on his face.

“God, what are we going to do now?” nerves took over every cell in your body as you asked another question. You leaned against the wooden building, slowly lowering yourself until you were sitting on the ground.

You lifted your head to meet Coriolanus's eyes, and he crouched in front of you, placing his hand on one of your knees.

“Hey, don't stress. You're heading back to the base now. Pack what you need, and tonight, you'll slip out of the district just like you planned with the rebels. You'll meet Sejanus at the lake, alright?” he spoke with a calmness, almost like talking to a kid, trying to reassure you.

Even though Coriolanus despised rebels — those who went against the Capitol's rules — he didn't want you to suffer the consequences that would surely befall Sejanus. He had nothing against you; in fact, he genuinely liked you. Your innocence about a better life beyond the Capitol's control wasn't his concern because you hadn't caused him any trouble, unlike young Plinth who had stirred up problems more than once.

“But won't it be suspicious if I suddenly vanish? They'll be searching for me, Coryo. They'll find me and punish me,” you said, placing your hand on his.

“I told you not to worry, remember?” Coriolanus replied, a bit sharper but still maintaining his reassuring tone. “I'll figure something out. No one's going to harm you.”

“But Coryo, you-” you began, but he quickly cut you off.

“Enough, Y/N,” Coriolanus said firmly, standing up from his crouch. “Get up. We're heading back to base,” he reached out a hand to you, which you took after a moment's hesitation. He helped you stand, silently conveying to act naturally before stepping out from behind the building.

You had no choice but to go along with Coriolanus' questionable plan, clinging to the hope that he knew what he was doing.

Little did you grasp the reality—that he was the cunning architect behind the recorded conversation. Sejanus wouldn't show up at the lake beyond District 12's boundaries. Instead, his fate would take a dark turn as he dangled lifeless from a tree in a matter of days.

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widowmaxff · 1 year ago

Note

if you wanted to, could you please write an angsty oneshot of moms!wandanat and reader where they get into a a bad argument which results in reader running away to yelena’s? ending could be happy or sad- up to you overall!

proud

pairings: parents!wandanat × daughter!reader | yelena × fem!reader (all platonic)

warnings: angst, argument, crying, insecure reader (?), happy ending!, steve × reader (platonic) at some time of the one shot, bad writing

a/n: i finished this crying because a cockroach attacked me, so thats why the ending was kind of bad writing sorry :P anddd tysm for your request <333 i loved writing this

You were never sure when it started, but it was probably a long time ago. When you learned that having parents who fought the super villains in the world wasn't normal, you realized that your life wouldn't be normal either. But even though you liked seeing your mother training with her red powers or running and being able to do whatever you wanted through the great corridors of the Compound, you still missed having a 'normal' life.

Being able to go out on the street without worrying about some evil man who hates one of your mothers kidnapping you or even being able to make friends at school without them being people who just wanted to meet your uncles, were things you wanted so much to experience. But that wasn't the only thing that made you feel bad in your daily life, having mothers who were superheroes also made you barely see them in weeks.

Even though most people your age didn't want anything to do with their parents anymore, you still missed the comforting and long hugs, the nights you had a marathon of your favorite movies and even when you still had dinner together as a family. But now, either they were too busy with work, like missions and paperwork, or they just didn't want to deal with a teenager.

And even then you tried to get their attention in some way. "Mom?" You knock softly on Natasha's office door, hearing a quiet response for you to enter. "Can you help me study for my test of the next week? I really don't understand this." You chuckle seeing your mother's eyes continue on the papers on her desk.

"Can't you look up the answer on the Internet or something? I'm really busy here, Y/n/n." You knew that Natasha would dismiss you somehow, but deep down you still hoped that she would look at you.

"Yes, but- I wanted to understand how to solve it and not just research it." You whisper, watching your mother write something down in the corner of the paper.

"Wanda can help you." She says, her eyes unable to take the words from her face for even a minute.

"Okay- um, thanks anyway, Mom." You only hear a mumble under her breath, making you wonder if there was something wrong with you. You close the office door with a little less hope this time. Your other mother was always a step ahead than Natasha in terms of emotional comfort, so maybe she would help you in your task by remembering your daily difficulties with that kind of thing. "Mama?"

"Yes?" Your mother murmurs, you barely listening. Wanda was sitting on the sofa at the Compound while devouring herself with a book in her hands.

"Can you help me study for my test of the next week, please?" You sit next to her while Wanda flips through another white page of the big book.

"Now?"

"Yeah. If it's possible."

"Can I help you...tomorrow?" Wanda finally looks at you from above her book. "Today is my only day off from the week's missions and paperwork and I'm really tired right now, my love." Your eyes fall to your hands in your lap, it was obvious that deep down you knew she was going to promise you something and maybe she would deliver. But by the time the next day passed, and then the next, and then the next... and Wanda didn't talk to you about it, you knew she wasn't going to help you.

And when you felt your head hurt just looking at that big red note in the corner of your test, you knew your mothers' wouldn't react so well to it. Maybe before they started spending time apart from you, they wouldn't get mad or anything like that because of your grade, but now you were sure that wasn't what would happen.

Stirring your fork on the plate still full of food, you go over the things you would say to your mothers' about your school grade. You travel between words and don't even notice when someone enters your field of vision. "Is everything okay, Kid?" It was your Uncle Steve. He sits in front of you watching you think about what to say to him.

"Yeah, it's just...school stuff."

"Is someone picking on you?" You knew that Steve almost saw you as a daughter, and you also knew that he was aware of how your mothers would rather be busy than deal with a teenage girl going through puberty, and that maybe now is the time when you needs them the most.

"Not like before, but that's not it." You leave your fork on your plate before sighing deeply. "I just got my test and I didn't get a very good grade," Murmuring you hold back the tears that sting your eyes. "now I don't know how I'm going to tell my mothers this."

Steve sighs. "I'm sure they won't fight with you, Y/n/n. Your mothers' will understand what happened and a grade doesn't define who you are, okay?" Your uncle didn't have much certainty in his voice but you tried to believe him anyway. You nod and put a small smile on your face, as a gesture of thanks.

Steve ruffles your hair, getting up from the chair when he hears the loud and unmistakable footsteps of your mothers' approaching you. He sends you a smile to try to reassure you that everything will work out, and with each step closer to you, your heart starts to accelerate. Your mothers' had a neutral expression, even if Natasha seemed angrier. "Aren't you going to eat?" Wanda asks, walking past you and heading towards one of the closets.

Completely ignoring the question, you take a deep breath and swallow hard. "I received the grade for that test in which I asked you to help me study." You mutter as you saw your mothers still facing away from you. "I got a D." Your voice was low, but even so, the two stopped what they were doing and looked into the depths of your soul.

"You got what?" Natasha seemed to finally understand that you were there. Her arms crossed as she walked towards you.

"I-I asked for help and-"

"Now you're trying to get out of this by blaming us for not helping you?" Wanda cuts you off making your eyes focus on her.

"I'm just saying- I tried, okay?!" It could be said that you got anger issues from your mom genes, or that you were just overwhelmed and your patience was running out. And when your tone of voice increased, you knew Natasha's anger would increase as well.

"Hey, don't talk to your mother like that!" Natasha slams her fist on the table in front of you, making you almost jump out of your seat.

"Well, you shouldn't be talking to me like that either." You didn't know where so much courage came from to fight back against your mother, but when you realized it, the damage had already begun.

"I'm your fucking mother, I talk to you however I want!" Natasha had never made you feel as scared as you did now, but it seemed like now that the words started to come out, they wouldn't stop.

"Ah, you haven't even been acting like a mother these past few months. Hypocrisy, huh?" When you finished speaking, you saw Wanda's eyes want to turn red like her hair. She approached the two of you quickly with the angriest expression you had ever seen.

"What's your problem, Y/n?!"

"My problem?" You get up from the chair and cross your arms, anyone who saw you in that position would notice the similarities in anger between you and Natasha. "You tell me! I'm not the person who would rather spend time anywhere else than with her own daughter. I'm not the one who forgets that she still has a daughter to raise!"

You screamed so loud that you were sure the entire Compound could hear that argument and that they could probably feel the tension in that environment from afar. If you were in a cartoon, you could see smoke coming out of Natasha's head and definitely Wanda's eyes catching fire. "You're being so selfish right now, Y/n."

"Am I?"

"Yes, you are! Just because your mother and I work all day to give you a better life, you think that we don't pay attention to you?" You had never seen Wanda like that, screaming and looking like she could kill anyone who came in front of her.

"Ah, yeah. Because last week when you weren't working you preferred to spend the whole day with Peter than with me just because he got a good grade!"

"Yes, because he always made us so proud by passing all the tests he had, unlike you!" Natasha spits the words out of her mouth without even thinking about what she was saying. And when they passed your ears you could feel your heart breaking.

Hearing that your mothers were more proud of a teenager who worked with them than they were of you made you feel like a gunshot was slowly passing through your chest. Natasha and Wanda knew how insecure you felt in your daily life, mainly due to academic validation, and now it seemed like all those days they had to spend helping you feel better about yourself were going down the drain.

Natasha sighs deeply when she sees your eyes widen, holding back tears that would fall at any moment. Wanda didn't seem any different when she heard the same words coming out of her wife's mouth. She never imagined that an argument of that size would ever happen between you, and Wanda could have sworn that she felt her heart stop beating out of disgust at the thought of how bad you must be feeling right now. "Y/n, I didn't mean-"

"It's okay." You murmur, uncrossing your arms. Two tears fall from your eyes and you make sure to wipe them away quickly. Your eyes were anywhere but on your mothers, because you felt so disgusting knowing that they were more proud of Peter than they were of you, that you couldn't even look at them.

Neither Wanda nor Natasha say anything when you turn and start walking out of the kitchen. You seemed to be walking automatically, your eyes blurry and your mind foggy, just going through your mother's words, over and over. But when you realize it, you're already outside the Compound, a few blocks away. You remember only one person who could help you outside of that place, and who wouldn't mind if you showed up suddenly.

And that's how you found yourself in front of Yelena's apartment, your aunt. She had found a place to live close to Natasha's house when she reconnected with her years ago, and especially when she discovered that she had a daughter, you. "Y/n?" Yelena seemed confused to see you there, with your face soaked and red, looking like an abandoned puppy. "Hey, what's wrong?" She didn't take long to have you in her arms.

"M-Mom and Mama h-hate me." You finally managed to murmur after some time sitting on the sofa in the apartment with Yelena stroking your hair and saying affectionate words.

Anyone who saw her doing this wouldn't believe it. Yelena wasn't the type of person for physical touches and especially sweet words, but when the subject was you, she became another person. "Why do you say that? They love you more than anything, Y/n/n."

"No, they don't."

Yelena had never seen you like this, not when you cried for days when you saw your favorite character dying, not when your mothers had to leave for a long mission. It was strange to see you crying almost as if there was no air in your lungs, your aunt wondered what happened to make it look like you had a bullet in your body and you were begging her to take it out. So, when you fell asleep crying on the couch, Yelena didn't wait a minute to call Natasha and insult her in every way possible. "What the fuck did you do?"

"What?"

"Y/n showed up at my door, I've never seen her crying as much as she does now." Yelena looks at you from the apartment's kitchen, you were curled up on the sofa with a blanket covering your body.

"Are you with her? Wanda and I were looking for her throughout the entire Compound." Natasha seemed to be relieved on the other end of the call, but even so her voice still sounded apprehensive about what had happened. "We're going to your apartment, I'll answer your question when we get there."

"You better!"

[...]

"She's sleeping on the couch." Yelena says when she sees Wanda and Natasha's eyes follow behind her, trying to find you. Yelena noticed Wanda's red eyes, not as if she wanted to cast circles of magic through her hands, but as if she had cried before arriving at the apartment. Your aunt knew that Wanda was sensitive, especially when it came to the topic of you and that you probably inherited that from her too, but for you two to cry so much like that, something really happened.

"Tell me what happened before you look at my niece again." Yelena has always been very protective of you, for example the time two girls made you the target of jokes in your school, and your aunt didn't wait a second to go to each of their houses and have a word with them.

"I better show you." Wanda says getting closer to Yelena, moving her fingers that came out red magic towards her mind - Steve messing up your hair, Wanda opening cabinets, red grade, Natasha screaming, you screaming, not being a mother, Wanda screaming, Peter being mentioned, not proud, disgusting feeling, you crying, you leaving the kitchen.

"Jesus." Yelena sighs deeply, running her hands over her face. "I really don't know how you're going to fix this, but I'll warn you: the hole is deeper than it looks."

"What- what do you mean by that?"

"Look, I'm sure you didn't want this to turn into a big snowball, but Y/n been feeling neglected for so long that after today it might take a while for things to get back to normal." Yelena says leaning on the front door frame.

"We didn't-"

"Yes, you did this to her. Today wasn't the first time she's shown up at my door in the last few months, but she's worse than the other times." Yelena crosses her arms and closes her eyes trying to calm down. "I had to listen to her talk about how you hardly talk to her on a daily basis, how you forgot to go to her presentation at school and didn't even apologize, how there were days when you forgot to pick her up and she had to walk in the rain to my apartment because it was closer, how she cried because you never had movie nights again because apparently now you have movie nights with Peter." Yelena's voice got louder with each thing she remembered you saying to her, and there were countless things. "I don't want to hear what you have to say, I want you to talk to her, apologize."

Natasha was so embarrassed to hear all those things from Yelena that she preferred to remain silent. Wanda had started to cry again, but it was silently, digesting all those things they did and didn't do to you. She had always dreamed of being a mother and now that she wasn't acting like one made her want to vomit over her own actions.

"Can we see her?" It was a stupid question coming from them, since they were your mothers and have the right to see you whenever they want. But they knew that everything was messy and bad for you because of them, so the least they had to do was respect your space.

Yelena just nods and gives Wanda and Natasha space to enter the apartment, taking light steps towards you. They bend down in front of you and see your swollen eyes and your red face with dried tears. Your mothers could cry just to see you in this state. Wanda starts to caress your face trying to make you wake up calmly, it was something she used to do when she went to your room in the morning every day to wake you up. And when you felt that you quickly knew who it was. "Mama?"

"Shh, yes it's me, my love." Wanda says with a small smile on her face when she hears your voice. You seemed lost for a few seconds but when you looked around the apartment you quickly remembered, throwing off the blanket and quickly sitting down on the couch. "Hey, it's okay."

"What are you two doing here?" You murmur, looking at your mothers' faces, who seemed sorry for everything that happened.

"We... came to talk and apologize, is that okay for you?" Natasha says, you could see in her face that she felt just as guilty as Wanda, because most of those horrible words were said by her. "Yeah, I guess." Wanda sighed in relief at your answer and felt some of the weight leave her body.

"I know that just apologies won't be enough to make you want to be around us for now, but your mother and I are completely sorry, my love. We were so stupid about leaving you aside these last few months, we didn't even realize what we were doing to you and it's really fucked up." The swear word made you laugh briefly, putting a smile on your mothers face. "And maybe you don't want to forgive us and that's definitely okay, but know that we're going to do everything we can to get things back on track, okay?"

Natasha agrees with Wanda's words and takes a deep breath before starting to speak. "We love you very, very much, sweetheart. And you are our greatest pride in our entire lives. I know you may not believe this, but you can be sure that me, your mother, your aunt and all your other uncles feel most proud of you, okay? You're our little star and our little agent."

A genuine smile appears on your face when you hear the sweet words that came out of your mothers' mouths. "First, you guys are literally the only people I want by my side and that's the only thing I've wanted these last few months. And I'm really grateful that you guys are sorry about that, even though it's probably going to be hard for things to go back to normal." They nod their heads when they hear your words in your low voice. "And I... forgive you. Not completely but until I can feel good again, but I think hearing you say sorry is a start."

"Okay, yes, that's okay." Wanda leaves a kiss on your forehead and strokes your hair affectionately. "We love you so much, dear."

"Love you too." You say, hugging the two women in front of you, finally feeling maternal affection after feeling neglected for so long and wondering what you had done wrong. Even though it took a while to get used to it all again, you were definitely happier than ever just hearing the words that they were proud of you. "Now I finally don't need to come to talk to Auntie Yelena anymore."

"Hey! I heard that!" Yelena shouts from another room in the apartment making the three of you laugh. You loved making fun of her, but even so, you will always be thankful for all the things she did for you. "Wow you're so ungrateful, Mini Romanoff."

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uncouth-the-fifth · 1 year ago

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good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling. Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short) Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly. here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!

At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.

Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.

Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.

But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.

Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.

You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—

Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?

You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?

The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.

Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.

You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.

She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.

For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.

You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.

Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—

Keys rattle just outside the front door.

First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.

Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.

You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”

“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.

If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.

“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.

You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”

Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.

Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.

He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?

Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.

“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.

Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.

He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”

Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.

You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.

One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—

“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”

—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.

With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.

Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.

One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.

“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”

Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”

Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.

“My smart girl,” he hums.

Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.

“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.

His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.

“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.

It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.

This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.

You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.

You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.

With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.

You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”

Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married—strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.

Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”

You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”

A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy/reader #resident evil #resident evil four #re4 remake #leon kennedy drabble #uncouthre

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gretavangroupie · 1 month ago

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Still, Us

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 30.7k

Warnings: Cursing, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Begging, Heartbreak, Sadness, Crying, Talks of Marriage, Touching, Kissing, Graphic Sexual Content, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Masturbation, and More.

Listen to the Playlist: Apple Music | Spotify

A/N: Wow this has been a long time coming. Sorry that I have been a little bit MIA lately, it was never my intention, life got crazy! I hope you will accept this as an apology. I have poured into this for weeks and I truly couldn’t have done it without the constant support from @gretavanmoon and @jakeyt. They have given me the drive to keep going even when I felt like giving up. This story would not have happened without them. Period. Anyway, I hope you like it and will accept my apology for being away so long. I have so much more planned for you all and I cannot wait to deliver. As always thank you so much for every comment, like, and reblog. It means so much to me to know that you enjoy my writing. ❤️

Frankenmuth, Michigan

May 2014

“Jake, can you please turn it down just a little bit?” you plead, your feet propped up on the dashboard, and your hand hanging leisurely out the car window. The warm air feels magical as it glides through your fingers. You’d both been waiting for the warmer weather to blow through town and it was finally here.

You turn to look at Jake, his brown shaggy hair finally growing out like he wanted, just barely dusting over the tops of his shoulders now as it blows around him in the wind.

“Turn down ‘Shooting Star’? Bad Company? Come on Pops, you know that’s not gonna happen,” he smirks, looking at you over the tops of his wayfarers. “This is like the story of my life.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head as you smile, watching him dramatically mouth the words to you as you coast up 83 towards your house. Jake is your best friend, has been for ten years now, and as you readied yourself for college life, he continued to pursue the dream he’s had since you’d known him, but now bringing his brothers into it with him.

“It’s hardly the story of your life,” you quip, “Maybe the life you wish you had.” you tease, elbowing him in the arm over the center console.

He laughs as he purses his lips, and pushes you away, “Yeah you say that now, but watch. We are getting that damn record deal, I don’t care what it takes.”

You turned to look at him again as the two of you pulled off the freeway and headed toward your exit. He believed it. He truly did, and you believed that he would do exactly as he said. He has always been that way. Some would say he is hard headed, but you would say he is just determined.

“I know, I know,” you start, being quickly cut off.

“You’re still coming right?” he urges, looking at you before looking back at the now green stoplight.

“Of course I’m still coming!” you laugh, “I pledged twenty bucks to be there, remember?!”

“Damn right, and you better be in the front where I can see you,” he grins, “Or should I say, where you can see me.”

You roll your eyes at him again, watching the shit eating grin stretch across his face. “You're so full of yourself Jacob Thomas, it's gonna get you in trouble one of these days, and I'm not gonna be there to save you.”

He puts his hand over his heart and looks absolutely offended by your comment, “Save me? Baby doll, you know I don’t need saving. You need saving. From yourself.”

“Oh really? How so?” you ask, challenging him with a quirk of your brow.

He smirks as he keeps his eyes on the road, fingers tapping against the steering wheel, “You’re headed to college to be some hot shot lawyer or something. You’re way too cool for that, Pops. You should stick with me and the guys.”

You groan as he pitches his grand idea to you for the hundredth time.

“Seriously. You can do so many other things. You can tour, party, see the world, instead of sitting in some bleak office building reading dusty law books all day.” he says matter of factly.

“Jake…” you whine, knowing this conversation always goes nowhere and leaves your mind a mess of emotions.

He sighs as his car comes to a stop in the driveway of your parents house. He looks over to you, and his voice is stern, “I’m serious Poppy. You’re a freebird, you’re not cut out for that boring life. I know it.”

You cut your eyes at him as you twist in the seat to face him, “So instead I can be some groupie, waiting on you guys hand and foot, cleaning up beer cans, and holding your hair back when you puke in some nasty bar bathroom? No thanks.”

He huffs in annoyance, “You know damn well that you'd be more than that. You'd be like…an honorary member of the band. You're not really the groupie type. You're far too good for that.” he says, twisting a lock of your messy hair over your shoulder. You can't help but to feel heat start to creep up your chest from the simple gesture.

“You think so?” You ask timidly, your eyes locked in on his tawny brown eyes.

His demeanor softens, and his finger twirls around the same lock of hair, “Poppy you are, without a shadow of a doubt, the smartest, toughest and coolest chick I’ve ever met. You are so much more than just some groupie.”

The nickname he gave you sounds different somehow– sweeter, maybe, in this moment. In an effort to quickly break the mounting tension growing between the two of you, you nudge him hard in the arm, “You going soft on me, Kiszka?”

He laughs in response, his fingers releasing the lock of your hair and running them through his own before bringing it to rest on the steering wheel, “I may be many things, P, but soft is not one of them.” he grins playfully. “Now get out, I’ve got practice in ten minutes.”

You scoff and toss the passenger door open, grabbing your tattered bookbag on the way. As you shut the door he leans over the center console to look at you through the open window, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head.

“You know it’s just because I’m gonna miss you, Pops. More than I care to admit.” he confesses.

“I know, Jake.” you answer, tossing your bag over your shoulder. “I'll miss you too.”

“Good. Oh, don’t forget I can’t pick you up tomorrow morning. We’re heading straight to Groovebox after classes to set up.” he says, flipping his glasses back down.

“I remember,” you say with a playful eye roll.

“Don’t be late, Y/N,” he says sternly, lifting a brow.

“Rich coming from you,” you taunt, beginning to walk to your front door.

“M’never late, just running on my own time,” he winks. “Catch up with you later, P,” he says finally, pulling away as Bad Company begins blasting through the speakers once more.

—

Jake 8:57 PM: which shirt should I wear tomorrow

You 8:58 PM: Um, maybe that denim button down you like? With the pearl buttons?

Jake 8:59 PM: it’s dirty

You 9:00 PM: Ok uhhhh, what about that colorful shirt with the aztec looking patterns on it

Jake 9:00 PM: do you think that will look good on camera

You 9:01 PM: Yes

Jake 9:02 PM: do you think I should like, iron it or whatever

You 9:03 PM: Do rockstars iron their clothes?

Jake 9:04 PM: see you tomorrow ;)

The air is a bit cooler now that the sun has set, the wind whipping right through your thin shirt as you reach for the door handle to Groovebox Studios. Tonight was the night, finally. This has been all Jake has talked about for weeks and weeks on end. Tonight they would record seven songs, live, in front of all of their friends and family, and anyone else that pledged enough money to be there. It had been grueling listening to Jake torture himself over what songs they would choose to record tonight, but they finally narrowed it down. At least, you hoped they did since everyone was here and waiting.

As you entered into the lobby it was bustling with familiar faces, all waiting to step into the studio to watch the session. You could hear the guys warming up through the wall, the wail of Jake's guitar immediately sticking out to you. You could also hear the crashing of the cymbals as Danny tested his kit and the deep thrum of Sam’s bass. You nervously picked at your fingernails as you waited to be let inside, eager to see the guys, but mostly Jake. You needed him to know you were here, on time, at that.

A few minutes later the large double doors opened and everyone filed into the small studio. You weren’t really sure what to expect but there were bright lights, and cameras everywhere, scattered between recording equipment and wires. Jake hadn’t noticed you were here just yet, but you saw him immediately in the shirt the two of you decided on last night. Something about that made you warm inside but you forced it back down where it came from. It was Jake. It wasn’t like that. Right?

The first song began, the guys seeming completely relaxed and not at all phased by the large equipment and people surrounding them, watching their every move. Josh’s voice was as strong and confident as Danny’s drums. Finally, Jake looked up from his guitar and let his eyes scan the crowd. A small and relieved smile filled his face as his eyes met yours. A small nod of his head said everything you knew he wanted to say, seeing you there supporting him in the front row of people. You knew that being there meant a lot to him, and gave him the extra boost of confidence he needed to make it through this set.

You were completely transfixed watching him play, giving everything he had for those seven songs. It seemed to fly by in a flash, the show ending with all four guys sweaty and a little winded. The crowd that showed up for them broke out into a round of cheers and applause as you all marveled at the budding talent in front of you. You watched as Jake placed his guitar in the stand and moved towards the producers of the show, thanking them profusely as he shook their hands.

Immediately after that though, his eyes found you. He walked straight towards you, ignoring everyone else around, wrapping you in a sweaty hug.

“Well, P, you made it on time,” he grins, pulling you in tight against him, your head resting against his chest. He smelled of sweat, cologne and faintly of smoke and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your knees just a little bit weak.

“How was it?” he panted, “Sound alright?”

You laugh pulling away from his grip, “Jake, that was amazing! Of course it sounded alright.”

He smiles as you pull away, fidgeting with the tip of his nose, “Yeah? You’re not just saying that ‘cause you’re my best friend, right?” he says with his signature smirk.

“When have I ever sugar coated anything, Jacob?” you taunt.

He laughs as he playfully runs his hand through his damp hair, “Valid point.” he smirks, looking around briefly, “Stay right here for a sec. Don’t go, just need to go say hi to some people. Wait, you’re comin’ to the house right?”

“Is this you inviting me?” you tease, knowing you never need an invitation at the Kiszka household.

He rolls his eyes, not playing into your little game one bit, “Yes, I’m inviting you smartass. Like you even need an invite.”

You nod your head and shoo him away to go talk to the people who came out to support him, but you can't help but feel special that you were the first person he wanted to see after such a big night.

You watch as he moves from person to person, saying his hellos, shaking hands and talking about the show with each one. He was his normal, charismatic self, except for the small glances over to where you were waiting. It was as if he didn’t want you to go anywhere without checking on you every so often. You’re able to find a quiet corner of the studio to relax for a moment, and you find yourself watching him like he’s the only thing in the room.

He is still surrounded by everyone, laughing and talking. He is so in his element, being the center of attention. You're happy for him, he deserves it, but you find it a little annoying how every girl's eyes were glued to him. No matter how many times you push these thoughts away, they keep resurfacing. It's all in your head, you keep telling yourself, trying to shake the idea of being anything more than friends with him, yet you can't help the fluttering in your chest.

Twenty minutes later he is walking back over to you, the crowd of people slowly beginning to filter out as the rest of the guys begin to tear down their equipment.

He comes to stand next to you, and his face is a bit more solemn now, the adrenaline from the show now long gone. “So I’ll see you at the house?” he asks, looking over his shoulder. “Just gotta pack up real quick, then make a quick beer stop then we will be home.”

“Beer stop? Did you forget we are 18?” you laugh.

He rolls his eyes playfully, “Did you forget I have a fake ID?” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Plus, I heard Sara Matthews is working tonight, and she won’t question it.”

“Getting started on the whole bad boy rock and roll thing early, huh…”

He lets out a laugh as he gathers his guitar cables from the floor and slings them over his shoulder, “I’ll have you know that I’ve been a bad boy for a long time now, baby doll.”

An hour and a half later you’re finally back in Frankenmuth and turning onto his street. You can see a few cars parked outside the house but you don’t see their van just yet. You laugh to yourself wondering if Jake was busted for his fake ID yet, or if Sara still had that crush on him from fourth grade. When you see the familiar set of headlights behind you, you know it's the latter.

The van comes screeching around the corner, sliding into the driveway and nearly taking out the mailbox. You laugh, recognizing Josh’s driving anywhere. He cuts the engine and jumps from the driver's seat with a grin. Jake slips out of the back door, pulling his guitar case from the backseat, his other hand holding a twelve-pack. Wordlessly, he trots up to your car, nodding at you to join him as he makes his way across the lawn and into the house, leaving the door wide open behind him.

You slowly walk up the steps, a weird feeling starting to settle in your stomach as you enter through the front door. Music is already blaring from the basement, and the loud hum of multiple people chatting is growing louder the further you walk. You take in a deep breath as you turn the corner into the living room. A giant group is already gathered around, sipping drinks and mingling in the dimly lit room. Your eyes scan the sea of people and you recognize some of the faces from the studio, and the rest are most likely here just to party.

Your eyes scan the room for Jake, wondering where he took off to, but then you see him come bounding down the stairs in a clean blue t-shirt and a smile. He makes a beeline straight for you, his eyes locked on yours as he navigates the crowd. He finally reaches you, his hand landing on your shoulder and ushering you away from the crowd of people. “Come here,” he murmurs under his breath as he drags you down the hall towards the kitchen.

You follow behind him as he makes his way into the kitchen, and you know he is dead set on enjoying his well deserved twelve-pack. As predicted he takes out two cans, popping the tabs and handing one to you. “Well, let's toast.”

You take the silver can from him, cold in your hand, “Okay, let’s…”

He lifts his beer up towards you with a smirk, his eyes locked on yours, “I guess I just want to say thank you for putting up with all of this the last few years, I know it hasn’t been easy,” he grins, his eyes raking over you, “You put up with a lot of bullshit from me, but even after all of that you’re still here.”

You tap your can to his, “Where else would I be?” you breathe.

He takes a moment to study your face, his eyes tracing over your cheeks, your nose, your chin as they land on your own eyes. The two of you silently stand next to each other, the sounds of the rest of the party still loud and present from the other room, and you can nearly feel his heart beating against his chest from where you’re standing. The unspoken feelings rushing between the two of you are almost palpable. He doesn’t answer your question, instead choosing to remain quiet as he keeps his eyes trained on you.

You pull the can to your lips, sipping at the bubbly beverage, only slightly wincing at the taste.

He laughs watching you try to drink the beer, trying to hide the grimace as the hops tickle your taste-buds, “It’s an acquired taste, Pops.” he grins, “And you’re going to have to get used to it before you get to college.”

You sigh, “It's not like college is some big party. I doubt it's like the movies.”

He laughs, resting his can on the counter next to him, “Sure it is. Beer flows like waterfalls, parties happening every day, you’ll even have a couple different flings I bet–” he pauses for a moment, his expression growing serious, “Just have fun, Pops. Get the full college experience.”

“I'll try, but I have to take this seriously. Definitely no flings or beer waterfalls or whatever.” you answer, skirting around that subject the best you can.

“Well yeah, take things seriously, but don’t count yourself out of a little fun, too.” he says, resting his palm behind his head. He’s quiet for a moment before he continues, “Maybe you’ll meet some fancy law student…fall in love and get married and all that.”

“I don’t know, Jake…” You say nervously. “That’s not why I’m going to college.” Why in the world were you two talking about this? You could feel your cheeks growing warm. Doesn’t he know that the only future you’ve ever planned is the one with him in it?

He raises an eyebrow at your flushed expression, “What’s wrong Pops, planning out your dream life as we speak?”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, “No, Jake.” you grit out. “Can we like…go party or are we gonna stand here and play twenty questions about my love life all night?”

He raises his hands in surrender, “Fine, fine, we can go join those losers.” he murmurs, pushing himself off the counter. He lifts his hand in the air, motioning to the living room, “After you.”

A few hours later you find yourself laying on the basement floor in a pile of blankets, your mind hazy and free as you bask in the feeling of the alcohol swirling through your veins. Jake is laying next to you in a similar state, staring up at the warm string lights strung across the walls. Josh, Sam, and Danny are already passed out on the other side of the room, their snoring turning into a symphony as usual. Your body feels warm and weightless as you turn your head to the side to look at Jake.

He notices your movement, turning to face you, a small smile on his face as he watches you, a long empty can of beer clutched lazily in his hand. His cheeks are flushed and rosy, and you’re pretty sure he isn’t entirely with it considering you’ve lost count of how many beers he’s had since the party started. He lets out a small laugh, the kind he’s only capable of making when he’s like this, “You know what I just remembered?” he slurs, his words coming out slowly.

“What?” you answer, pursing your lips.

He grins, “Remember when we were kids, we’d sit on the edge of Cass River and throw rocks into the water for hours…‘til the sun would go down…” he mumbles, his gaze trained on the blue blanket beneath him. “We’d talk for hours, and it was just…So peaceful. We were best friends–” he trails off, running his tongue over his lower lip.

You nod, his words causing a slight tingle in your stomach as your own mind begins to wander. He is still watching you, his eyes traveling over your face, over your hair before he speaks again, “And we’re still best friends now…right?”

“Yeah of course we are, Jake. Me going to college isn’t going to change that.” you answer softly, seeing the worry painted across his face.

He nods his head, a small smile creeping up on him, “I know. I know, I just…” he pauses, his thoughts coming a little slower now, “I just don’t know what I’m going to do without you here. I’m used to you bein’ around, it’s gonna feel weird…different.”

“It’s not like I’ll never come home, and you can call me and text me whenever you want. You know that. Where is all of this coming from, Jake?”

He sighs, his eyes dropping from your face and looking instead at the ceiling, “I dunno, I just…I guess I’m realizing it a bit more now that it’s actually about to happen. You’re going to school hundreds of miles away, with other people…other guys, and I won’t be there to keep those idiots in check.”

You giggle a little, the thought of him fending off guys a little humorous. “I already told you, I’m not going to college looking for guys. I’m going to become a lawyer, and I have to focus on the LSAT and getting into law school and everything else. Guys are going to be the last thing on my mind.”

He lets out an exasperated breath, “I know, Pops. That wasn’t my point.” he mutters before rolling onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. His eyebrows are furrowed together as he looks at you, “I’m just worried about you, okay? I don’t want some douchey frat guy to come up and ruin everything…”

“Ruin what?” you ask, furrowing your brows.

His cheeks turn a light shade of pink and he looks away for a brief moment, but his gaze immediately returns on yours. “This.” he mutters softly, motioning a hand between the two of you. “Us. Our friendship, our bond. You know what I mean so don’t pretend that you don’t.”

“Nothing is going to come between us, Jake. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

He nods, a small hint of a smile creeping across his face, the tension in his shoulders slowly releasing, “I know you wouldn’t…it’s just me being a dumbass, as usual.”

“Jake, you're not a dumbass. I get it. I have the same worries you know. For all I know you’ll meet some super cool girl when you guys inevitably go on tour, and next thing you know you’ve forgotten my name.”

He laughs, moving his hand to playfully swat at you, “Come on now…there’s no way I’m going to forget your name, you’re the only girl I ever think about.”

You feel your heart lurch into your chest at his confession. He may not mean it the way you’re taking it, but part of you wonders if maybe he does.

“So it’s agreed, no douchey frat guys for me, and no rockstar girlfriends for you,” you tease.

He laughs again, his fingers lightly brushing against the skin of your arm, “If that makes you happy then yes…agreed.” he grins, watching as the motion of his hand leaves a trail of goosebumps down your arm. “Just promise me one thing…”

“What’s that…” you answer.

“Just, tell me…if you do– if you start to fall in love. Just tell me first.” he breathes.

You can see the sincerity in his face, and hear it in his words. He really thinks…

“Jake, guys don’t– they don’t see me like that,” you pause. “It’s never been like that for me.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, a frown on his lips growing by the second. “Bullshit.” he mutters, “Guys don’t see you like what?”

You muster up the courage thanks to the alcohol in your system, and tell him what you really think. “I’m not the kind of girl that guys fall in love with. I am plain– average old, Y/N. I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

He scoffs and turns onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows, “Plain and average? Is that what you really think?” he asks with disbelief. “Y/N, you’re beautiful, and the guys around here are just too blind to see it. There are guys who would kill to be with you, for just one single chance.”

“I don’t know, Jake. Maybe. But like I said, I don’t care about that. Once I make it on at a firm, maybe I’ll consider it.” you say.

He studies your face, the alcohol starting to dull his inhibitions, his thoughts coming out unfiltered at this point, “You’re thinking like, ten years in the future P! You’re about to go to college and you’re talking like you’re never gonna meet anyone or pay anyone any mind. For ten years! You’ve got to live, Poppy! You’ve never even been kissed for Christ’s sake!”

“Wow,” you breathe, the hurt washing over you.

He sighs, realizing that he might have gone too far, “I didn't-” he stops, looking away from you before he speaks up again, “I'm sorry, that was shitty. I didn't mean to say it like that.”

“No, it’s fine. I mean, you’re right.” you reply.

He looks back at you, his fingers running over your arm again, “No, it’s not…I shouldn’t have said it like that. It’s just, you think so little of yourself sometimes and it drives me insane. You are like…the most amazing person ever, and I don’t–” he stops himself, biting down on his bottom lip, “I just don’t understand how guys don’t see it.”

You’re a little taken aback, this is the first time that his true feelings about you have really come out. You’re unsure what to even say.

“Thanks, Jake.” you smile, “I’ll let you know how my love life is going ten years from now.” you giggle.

He looks at you for a long minute, and you can see the wheels turning in his head.

“I have a better idea,” he says, taking a deep breath. “We’re 18 now, right?”

“Right…” you answer hesitantly.

“If you’re sure that you are dead set on waiting until you’re done with school to be with someone…” he pauses.

“I am…” you confirm.

“Alright, when we are thirty, if neither of us are married…” he pauses, “Let’s marry each other.”

Shock fills your features, and you can tell that he notices by the smile pulling across his lips. He laughs lightly when you finally muster out a few syllables, “Come on P…it’s the perfect plan. If we’re both still single by thirty, we’ll get hitched.”

“Married?! Jake, you don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t want to marry me!?”

“Sure I do. You’ve always been my girl,” he murmurs, still smiling, “and we’ve already established that no other guy will ever know you better than me. We’ve been best friends since we were kids, been through every high and low, you’re the only one who’s stuck with me through it all…so,” his voice trails off, “if we’re both available at thirty, I see no reason why we shouldn’t marry each other. Plus, our parents would love it.”

“Jake, this is crazy,” you pause, “I can’t let you do this. You can’t make that kind of promise…”

He leans back against the pillow behind him, his expression growing serious as he turns and looks at you, “I think I can. And I wouldn’t be promising if I couldn’t keep it. You’re it for me, Poppy. You always have been...”

“I didn’t think– Do you– I didn’t think you felt that way about me…”

He lets out a dry laugh, watching the realization starting to hit you, “How could you not know? We’ve spent our entire lives together…this is nothing new.” he sighs, pausing for a moment, “I should have probably said something before, but…I think a part of me was afraid that you didn’t feel the same way and I would end up ruining everything and lose you…” he pauses. “Why do you think I’m over here telling you not to fall in love with some stupid college guy? I want it to be me, P…I’m your guy. I always have been. The question is, do you feel the same?”

“Of course I do Jake. I– I just…” you stammer. “I’m sorry I don’t even know what to say, I–”

Your heart is racing and your eyes are glued to his every movement. You want to scream from the rooftops, but right here in the moment you can barely form a word.

“Say you feel the same, that’s all you need to say.” He gently takes up your chin, his thumb running across your bottom lip, “Say you want it to be me.”

Your eyelids grow heavy as his warm thumb brushes your lip, “Yes,” you breathe, your eyes locked on his. “I feel the same.”

He lets out a low breath, the words that you’ve just spoken going straight to his gut, “You know I’ve wanted to kiss you for as long as I can remember.” he murmurs, his fingers still resting against your chin.

“Really…”

He nods his head, a small smile creeping up on the corner of his mouth, “Yeah. Since middle school, at the very least. Maybe even earlier…” he pauses, “It’s a shame you’re making me wait until we’re thirty.”

You smile at him playfully, “I mean...maybe we don't have to…”

A low grin slowly spreads across his face, “Don’t tease me, P.” he murmurs, his fingers still lingering on your chin and gently tugging at your bottom lip.

“Who says I am?” you whisper.

His breathing is becoming ragged as he gently runs his thumb over your bottom lip once more, “Poppy…say yes…” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.

“To what?” you breathe.

“To the pact. To kissing me. To all of it.” he mumbles, his thumb still stroking over your bottom lip, his free hand slowly traveling from your neck to the small of your back, gently pulling you towards him.

Your eyes flick to his, the string lights glowing in the reflection of his eyes. You can feel his body pressed against yours in the most delicious way, the closest you’ve ever been to each other. “Yes, Jake.”

And just like that, his lips are crashing into yours, his hand moving from your lower back to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, a low breathy moan leaving his lips as he pulls you into him even more. His kiss is slow and tender at first, the taste of beer still lingering on his lips as he moves them over yours in a languid back and forth, but it soon turns desperate and hungry as his tongue presses urgently against yours, a low growl leaving his chest, all of the feelings and emotions that he’s harbored for years releasing themselves in this one moment. But within seconds, it’s over.

He rests his forehead against yours, the two of you breathing in and out heavily. The kiss has both of you in a daze, your mind struggling to focus on anything other than the fact that your best friend just kissed you. Your first kiss. A content smile stretches across your face before you let your head fall into the crook of his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his cologne as he wraps his arms around you.

He holds you tightly against him, his chin resting at the top of your head as he runs his fingers across your bare arm. The feeling of your body pressed against his is one you’ve dreamed about for years and now experiencing it for the first time, you never want him to let you go.

“Thank you, Jake.” you say softly into his chest.

He pulls you in even tighter, his heart rate finally starting to return to normal as he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “For what?” he hums softly.

“For being my first kiss. I always wanted it to be you.” you answer.

A smile spreads across his face and he squeezes you a little tighter again. “Me too, Pops.” He pauses, his hand finding a loose strand of your hair and twisting it around his finger, “and for the record, I hope I’m your last.”

You laugh, but then an idea strikes you. “Oh yeah, about that. Don't we need to like, sign our names on the line or something?” you say playfully.

He pauses for a moment, looking down at you but quickly realizing what you mean. A small smirk spreads across his face and he lets out a small laugh, “I don’t know if we’ve got a pen and paper down here…”

You shrug as you look at him, but then he quickly reaches his hand into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled gas station receipt from his beer run earlier in the night. “Will this work?”

“I don’t see why not?” you grin.

He reaches up behind the two of you, digging around in the pocket of Josh’s backpack that was left on the couch, pulling his hand out with a smile. “A pen.”

The two of you spend the next few minutes ironing out the fine print of your arrangement, before Jake takes the liberty of writing out the words on the back of the receipt paper.

‘At age 30, if both parties are single they will enter into marriage with each other.’

You both sign your names beneath the words, the act feeling strangely good and you can tell you both are feeling it. “So it’s official…” you say, letting your eyes meet his.

He stares down at the receipt, the ink of your signatures drying on the back. A weird feeling of finality washes over you as he slowly nods his head, “Yeah, I guess we’re really doing this.”

“The pact.” you grin, leaning into his shoulder.

He lets out a soft laugh as he looks down at you, his arm wrapping tighter around your shoulders, “The pact,” he repeats softly, before pressing another kiss to the top of your head and sealing your fate as you know it.

Northwestern University - Chicago, Illinois

2015

“Yeah, fuck–” he groans, “keep doing that, baby…”

Your eyes flick up to meet his icy blue eyes, his tip nudging the back of your throat as you take as much of him as you can. You know it won’t be long now, you can feel the tightening of his abs as he fights off his release. You release him from your lips with a pop, dragging your tongue up the underside of his cock for dramatic effect. You can hear the bass line of ‘Starboy’ thundering through the walls of the fraternity house party still happening downstairs, momentarily pulling you from the moment you found yourself in.

You feel Trevors hand as it lands on the back of your head, returning you to your task. Again you take him into your throat, never letting your eyes part from his as your hands cup his balls.

“Fuck baby doll, you’re fuckin’ amazing,” he groans, his cock starting to jerk with need.

You wince as the pet name rolls off his tongue, taking you back to a place you’d rather not remember right now. Right back to Jake.

Jake. Where was he right now? What was he doing? Surely he wasn’t at the back of some girl's throat. What were you doing?

Suddenly you feel him as his cum starts to paint the back of your throat, swallowing him down with every grunt that leaves his chest. You pull off of him quickly, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. Your mind is suddenly a jumbled mess of thoughts, the single word sending you into a tailspin of guilt.

“Felt good as fuck, baby,” Trevor says, pulling up his jeans.

You give him a curt smile as you pull yourself up off of the dirty bathroom floor. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“What?” he questions, grabbing his red cup from the bathroom counter. “Baby?”

“No.” you answer quickly. “Baby doll. Don’t call me that. I don’t like it.”

“Sorry, babe. My bad.” he says nonchalantly. “You good?” he asks, turning to open the bathroom door.

You let out a sigh, “Yeah. I’m fine.” you answer, watching him spin the door knob to open the door. The music from the party hits you full force, and that combined with the alcohol in your system hits you hard. “Actually, I think I’m gonna head out.”

“Why, the party is just getting started, it's only two,” he says, ushering you down the stairs. “And I thought you were coming home with me tonight.”

“Eh, I need to be at the library tomorrow morning first thing. I have an exam tomorrow afternoon.” you say, “I’ll call you though, yeah?”

He shakes his head, “Whatever, babe. Later.”

Relief washes over you as you free yourself from Trevor, and make your way through the party and out into the fresh air of Fraternity row.

“Fuck. What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?” you grit out, making the short walk back to your dorm. The air is starting to chill as fall begins to wash over Chicago. You kick yourself the entire way to your door, immediate regret setting in as you let your mind wander back to Jake.

It had been a few weeks since the two of you spoke, and you definitely hadn’t let him know about your little ongoing situation with Trevor. You didn’t even truly know if you needed to. It wasn’t serious, and that was the deal, right?

As you lock the door behind you, you toss your bag onto your desk, hearing the loud thud as your phone hits the wooden table. It reminds you that you haven’t looked at it in hours. Pulling it from your purse you see a few Instagram notifications but more importantly you see that you missed call and a missed text from Jake. You wonder if you were on his mind, too.

Jake 1:46 AM: Pops, call me when you can, I have big news.

Your eyes flash to your clock seeing it read out 2:32 AM, and you wonder if he is still up. If he would answer your call. You decide to try, knowing he keeps late hours. The line rings out four times before you hear his raspy voice answering the call.

“Hey Pops,” he says, and you can tell you’ve woken him.

“Shit, sorry, I woke you up didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. Nice to hear your voice instead of reading it on a screen,” he laughs, clearing his throat. “It’s late Poppy, where have you been all night? Are you just getting home?”

You feel hesitant to answer but decide on the truth, “Yeah, I– I was out. I was at a party with some friends.”

You hear a deep hum as he takes in your words and you already know what he’s thinking. “Did you have fun?”

“Um, yeah I guess so…” you lie. “But that's not why I’m calling, I saw your text. What’s up, is everything okay?”

He lets out a soft sigh, his voice still thick with sleep, “Yeah everything is fine. Everything is great actually. Sorry to just text you out of the blue like that, but I wanted to– I just wanted to tell you over the phone instead of texting.” He pauses for a moment, as if trying to gather his thoughts, “It took a while but, the deal went through. We were signed for an album and we’re gonna tour it.”

“Oh my god, Jake!”

“We are releasing a fucking album, Pops.” he repeats.

“I don’t even know what to say, I am so– I am so proud of you Jake! I can’t believe it! I mean, I can but, you know what I mean!” you gush.

You hear his soft laugh from the other end of the phone, “You don’t really have to say anything. Or you can scream or do whatever. I just needed to tell you. I wanted you to be the first person to know.”

The words then hit you, “Wait, I’m the first person you’ve told?”

“Yeah, you’re the first.” he laughs, “You’re the one I need to tell everything to, first. Just how it's always been. How I want it to always be.”

“I’m so proud of you, Jake.”

You can hear his smile on the other end of the phone, “I’m proud too. God, I wish you were here, Pops. Wish you were here celebrating with me.”

A sigh leaves your lips, “I wish I was there too.”

“Pops, listen, it– It might be a while before we can see each other again. We– we’re going to be touring all through the spring. All over the place…”

“Oh, I–”

“No, no, don’t worry or anything, I just mean I will miss you, that’s all. But you’re doing your thing in Chicago and I’m doing mine out here. Just kinda the paths we are on right now.” he pauses, “But I’ve still got a couple of weeks at the end of the year before we go. We can see each other then, right?”

You bite your lips together as you try to stay positive, “Yeah. Yeah of course.”

“Good.” he answers, “Just keep on going, Poppy. We’ve got this.”

“Yeah. Yeah we do.” you answer quietly.

“Alright, well, we should probably get some sleep, it’s late. But one more thing before you go…” he trails off.

“What’s that…”

“Just…” he pauses hesitantly, “We’re still, us, right?”

“Yeah, Jake. We’re still us. Nothing has changed.” you confirm.

“Okay. Well, goodnight, Pops,” he says, his voice growing sleepy again.

“Goodnight, Jake.” you whisper, hitting the red button to end the call.

As you collapse down onto your lumpy dorm room bed you run your hand over your face. You try to shake the hollow feeling in your stomach at the thought of everything being okay, but you couldn’t shake the nagging sense of unease washing over you as you pull the blankets over your head.

December 8, 2015

Jake 4:27 PM: When do you come home for winter break?

You 5:09 PM: I’m not sure yet. Cramming for finals currently.

Jake 5:20 PM: good luck pops

December 19, 2015

Jake 11:47AM: We are leaving for Detroit to get a van and trailer. I can’t believe we are really going on tour. Miss you.

December 22, 2015

Jake 9:57 PM: I saw your mom today and she said you won’t be home for Christmas. Would it be weird if I came to see you? Let me know.

December 25, 2015

Jake 7:46 AM: Merry Christmas, Pops.

You 9:04 AM: Merry Christmas, Jake. Miss you. I’ll call you soon.

December 29, 2015

You 12:03 PM: sorry I haven’t called, I’ve been so busy. When do you leave for tour?

Jake 1:10 PM: January 8th. We’ll be in Chicago on the 24th, should I leave you a ticket?

You 1:27 PM: Can you leave two?

Jake 1:30 PM: Anything for you pops. Can’t wait to see you.

January 23, 2016

Jake 8:46 PM: leaving the venue in Springfield heading towards Chicago. See you tomorrow?

You 9:23 PM: Yes ❤️

Northwestern University - Chicago, Illinois

January 24, 2016

“So what’ve you got going today babe?” Trevor asks, rolling over to face you.

“Honestly not a lot. I have a class at 1:00 then I guess I am just going to come back here and get ready to go to that show. You still want to come with me right?”

“Yeah for sure, sounds like a good time,” he says, kissing your shoulder as you sit up on your elbows. The sheet now barely covers your naked bodies, the light sheen of sweat now dry.

A knock on your door startles both of you, your head snapping to the right to look at Trevor, “You think it’s the RA?”

“Fucking hope not,” he whispers, quickly pulling himself up out of your bed.

You jump up, grabbing a t-shirt and pulling it over your head as you rush to the door. You push back your hair and take a deep breath as you open the door, but much to your surprise, it’s not the RA.

“Jake?!”

“Hey, Pops,” he grins, his smile lighting you on fire. His hands are in his pockets, and he seems almost nervous.

“Jake what– what are you doing here?” you rush out, taking in the sight of him for the first time in a long time. His hair is longer now, and he seems as if he's added a little bit of muscle tone.

“We got into town early, thought I’d surprise you,” he answers, his eyes flicking up and down your body as he takes in your current state.

Before you even have time to explain, Trevor walks up behind you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“All good, babe?” he asks, his eyes locked on Jake.

You see the exact moment that realization hits Jake and you swallow harshly, “Yeah, yeah, um everything is fine. This is my friend Jake. He’s in the band we’re seeing tonight.”

You watch as Jake lets out a small huff of air, anger washing over him. “Jake,” he nods, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Trevor answers.

“I see you’re busy, Pops. I’ll uh– catch you later.” he says, looking at you before walking away. You don’t even have time to speak before you hear the elevator doors opening. You shut your dorm room door with tears welling in your eyes, doing your best to not let Trevor see, but a huge lump has formed in your throat, and you feel like you might be sick, so you quickly dart into the bathroom before Trevor can question you.

Your blood is rushing around furiously as you pick up the two tickets at willcall under your name. Trevor seems oblivious to your anxiety, though, you are doing your best to keep it under wraps. The energy in the small venue is buzzing around you and your excitement doubles once you step through the double doors and enter inside. There are a few people gathered at the front of the stage, and you and Trevor step up behind them. Your heart is pounding as your eyes catch on the drum kit, seeing the band's logo displayed proudly. It won't be too much longer until they go on stage, opening for the main act, and you know more people will begin to show up after they start.

“So you’ve seen them before?” Trevor asks, turning to look at you.

“Um, yeah kinda. But not like this. Not on a big stage with lights and real sound equipment,” you answer, doing your best to shut him up.

Your eyes are focused on the side of the stage where you see a few familiar faces getting ready to go on stage. A smile stretches across your face and your heart starts to pound harder, knowing Jake will be in front of you in mere seconds. The house music starts to quiet down and you watch as Josh takes the stage. He is followed by Sam and Danny, and finally you see Jake step up with his red SG.

They immediately begin playing, and Josh starts talking to the crowd of people that have gathered around you. There are more people here than you would have thought, but you chalk it up to their successful shows in other surrounding states. But you’re more so shocked at the sheer presence of them on the stage. In seconds Jake’s guitar is commanding the attention of the entire venue, all eyes on him. Part of you wants him to look at you, but the other part of you is still feeling guilty about this morning's earlier interaction.

As your attention focuses on him, you notice that his attention seems to be focused on everything but the crowd of people in front of him, in fact he seems to be looking over the crowd as he strums out the chords to the first song. It’s then you realize that he seems to be intentionally not looking for you. You hate to admit that it hurts.

The performance begins, and Josh starts the opening lyrics to a song you've never heard before, but it's incredible. You can't help but notice that the lyrics seem almost as if they could be about you, and it sends chills up and down your spine. Surely not.

It's then that Jake's eyes meet yours, locking in on you as Josh continues to sing. Your breath is caught in your chest and as you struggle to blink you see Jake look over at Trevor. Your heart begins to race, your cheeks turning flushed. It seems as if time has stopped, like the two of you are the only people here, in the entire world. You hold his gaze again for a moment before he rips his eyes away, returning his focus back to the music.

The show continues this way, the constant back and forth as the two of you look at each other, speaking silently as he plays guitar. It feels like an eternity before the show is finally over, their set is ending and the guys are walking offstage. The crowd erupts into applause and cheers, and you and Trevor begin to make your way towards the back of the venue, but not before Josh spots you and wraps his sweaty arms around you.

He looks flushed and out of breath but still has a million dollar smile plastered across his face, “Y/N! I’m glad you made it out. Did you enjoy the show?” he says, but doesn’t let go of the hug despite him dripping sweat onto your shoulder.

“Of course I did! I always do, you guys were amazing!” you shout, hearing the headliner start their set. “It’s nice to see you on a real stage where you belong.”

He lets out a low laugh, finally letting go of you, “It’s still unreal. I can’t even pretend like I’m used to it. Thanks for being here.” he pauses. “I don’t know where Jake ran off to but I’ll find him and send him your way.”

“Thanks,” you smile, seeing him wave over his shoulder.

You turn back around to see Trevor standing beside you, a small hint of confusion on his face. He looks like he has something he wants to say, and you know exactly what it is.

“Yes, I know the whole band, and yes Jake is a twin,” you smile.

He shakes his head and looks down at the sticky bar floor before looking back at you. “No actually it's not that. I saw the way you look at him, Y/N, at Jake… Like you couldn’t take your eyes off of him for the entire show. And how he couldn’t take his eyes off you either. Not once.”

Panic begins to set in, your heart rate immediately spiking, “What? No. I– I watched everybody, Trev.”

He raises an eyebrow as he stares you down, “No, you didn’t. You watched him.” he replies, his face growing serious as he looks you over, “I’m not stupid, babe. You’ve been with me for a while now, and I have never once seen you look at me the way you were looking at him.”

“No, you’re imagining things,” you say dismissively, seeing Jake appear in the crowd, heading your direction at possibly the worst time.

“No, I’m not imagining things,” he mutters, his words turning cold. “Just admit it. Say that you have feelings for him.”

Jake finally makes his way over to you, and by that point the tension between the three of you is as thick as molasses. Jake’s face changes the moment he sees the expression on your face.

“Hey Pops, what’s going on? Everything okay?” he asks, his eyes flickering between you and Trevor.

“Um–” you stammer, unsure what to say to diffuse the tension between you and Trevor.

Trevor looks at Jake, his eyes narrowing at your obvious discomfort, “Just settling an issue here, that’s all.”

Jake looks at him, obviously confused and concerned, “What issue is that?”

“Oh, so you’re going to play dumb, too?” Trevor quips, “Of course.”

Jake’s face turns serious as his eyes narrow, “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, man. You want to tell me what the hell’s going on?”

“Not much to tell. I can just tell when a guy and a girl have feelings for each other. We’re working through the issue right now.” he answers nonchalantly, gesturing in your direction.

“Trevor!” you snap, your face burning with embarrassment.

He shrugs his shoulders, “What? We are. Am I wrong? You’ve got feelings for this dude, right?”

Jake is standing stock still, his eyes wide and focused on you as Trevor mentions the feelings you’re not supposed to have.

The tension in the air is palpable, the realization of what he’s saying slowly settling in on him. “Right?” he asks again. You can’t bring yourself to look at either one of them, your gaze remaining locked on the ground.

“No. I don’t Trevor. You are my boyfriend. Jake is…just a friend…from back home. I'm here with you.” you answer, feeling your own heart break as the words pierce through Jake, too.

He stands there, his face expressionless as your words sink in. He’s frozen, staring down at you, but your head is still glued to the ground and you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

Trevor lets out a breath, “We’ll just have to agree to disagree then. All I’m saying is the way you were looking at him just now, and the way he was looking at you…there’s something between you two that isn’t just a regular thing, and I see it.”

“No man, she's right. We are just friends. Nothing more. Never have been, never will be. Isn’t that right, Pops.” Jake says, and you can feel the venom in his words.

You dare glance up at him, but the moment your eyes meet you regret it. His face looks like stone, the light in his eyes now replaced with a dark, dull anger. You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen Jake like this, his gaze locked on yours, staring you down.

“Right, Pops? We’re just friends,” he repeats, but his voice lacks the comfort of the countless times he’s said those words before to you. There’s no reassurance in there this time, no hint of a smile. This is not the Jake you know. The Jake that you love.

“Right,” you breathe, wishing more than anything you could just disappear into thin air.

He holds your gaze for just a moment longer, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you, waiting for something more from you, but you just can’t say it, your voice having abandoned you.

“Okay, great, well uh– thanks for coming out. See ya ‘round, Pops.” You watch as he nods his head toward you dismissively, turning and disappearing into the crowd.

The feeling of him walking away from you, the anger in his face and in his words, it’s leaving you with an unbearable emptiness feeling in your chest. Your head is swimming with everything that has just transpired. You’re unable to move, but Trevor breaks you out of your trance with a hand on your shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Part of you wants to stay, to leave Trevor and find Jake and make things right, but you know you can't. It's too late. The damage is done. You let him lead you out, your head down as you stumble out of the venue. The night sky is cold and black, the weight of the moment still fresh. You let Trevor lead you away from the venue. Away from Jake.

You make the trip back to your dorm in silence, both of you just wanting to forget about the whole thing and curl up in bed and sleep. He doesn’t try to talk, but you can feel his tense energy radiating off of him next to you, and you aren’t totally sure if he’s angry with you or just the situation in general.

As you slide into your bed, your mind is still replaying the moments back in the venue. Jake’s face as you denied having any feelings for him. The way he used a nickname that once was special between you two and somehow made it sound so cold. The way he didn’t argue when you denied your feelings to Trevor. And the worst part of all, your inability to correct him.

The sheets feel heavy on top of your body, and you’ve never felt more lonely. The person who knows you best is a couple miles away from you, and at the same time he’s never felt more distant. You want to try and sleep, hoping the morning can bring you some reprieve but you instead end up staring at the ceiling and letting the tears quietly fall.

Northwestern University - Chicago, Illinois

November 10, 2016

“Miss Y/N?” the dorm attendant calls out as you walk through the entry doors.

“Yes?” you answer, stopping at the desk with a smile.

“You had a delivery come this morning,” she smiles, “a big beautiful one.”

“Me?” you ask, not expecting any deliveries.

“Yes, stay right here and I will get it,” she says, scampering off to the back office to retrieve your package.

However, when she steps out your heart nearly drops. It’s not a package at all. It's a giant bouquet of flowers, but not just any flowers. Your eyes instantly begin to fill with tears, and a familiar ache in your heart flares up. Poppies, at least two dozen of them in a bright pink vase. They are all blooming and vibrant and you don’t even need to read the card to know who they are from.

You accept them from her with thanks, and rush back to your dorm room as fast as you can. The tears are beginning to stream from the corners of your eyes as you kick the door shut behind you. You place the flowers on your desk, and with shaky hands you pull the tiny red card from the holder.

The outside of the envelope reads ‘Happy Birthday’ in bold handwriting. You look at the envelope one more time before ripping open the seal and pulling the card out. The front of the card has a handwritten message. ‘Have a great birthday, Pops.’

There’s no signature, but you know who it’s from. You open the card and find the inside blank, except for one simple phrase written in the middle.

‘Still us, right?’

You feel like your heart has exploded in your chest, the tears falling faster now. You feel a knot in the pit of your stomach as you read those words again and again, your brain unable to wrap your head fully around what they mean. You know what he’s really asking, and the feeling of shame and guilt over the way that you left things is even stronger now.

“What did I do?” you whisper to yourself. You never wanted to hurt him, that was never your intention. You let your head sink, your eyes landing on the beautiful multicolored flowers on the desk. You let the tears continue to fall, the guilt and helplessness washing over you in a fresh wave. You let your head fall into your hands, trying to will yourself to do something, anything, but the feeling of despair and the memory of how Jake’s face looked that night in the venue is like a heavy weight on top of you.

Should you call him? Text him?

You look around your dorm, as if a sign would pop up and tell you exactly what to do. You turn and look at your phone, your hands shaking as you reach out toward it. You think about calling him, you think about texting, but what would you say?

You want to say how sorry you are, how much you’ve missed him, and how much better everything would be if you could both go back and do that night over again...but what good is saying those things now? It’s too late for regret, no matter how badly you want to go back and change the last few months.

You pick up the phone, your fingers shaking slightly as you dial his number. The phone rings for a few seconds until you hear his voice on the other line. “Poppy?”

“Jake,” you reply.

“Hey,” his voice responds, a little bit of surprise and relief in it. He hesitates before continuing, “Guessing you got the flowers?”

“I did. Jake, they are so beautiful. I love them.” you answer. There’s an uncomfortable silence between the two of you, the elephant in the room growing larger by the second.

“Yeah, I’m really glad you like them,” he replies, his voice sounding less surprised and a little bit of normalcy starting to return to the conversation. He lets another pause linger between the two of you, the silence feeling strange after all the time you’ve gone without speaking to each other. Then he speaks again. “I wasn’t sure you were going to call.”

“I wasn’t sure you would answer,” you say sheepishly.

He lets out a gentle chuckle, the sound of his laugh somehow still warming your heart. “Yeah, to be honest I was a little hesitant to answer. But I’m glad you called.” he says quietly.

“I um– I got your…note.” you breathe.

A pause fills the line before he speaks again, this time quieter. “Yeah, it’s just been kind of heavy having the distance between us lately. I just… needed you to know that the way things ended last time we saw each other, I never meant to…” he trails off, suddenly unsure of the proper words to say.

“Jake, I-” you start, but he interrupts you.

“No, you don’t have to say anything,” he says, a sense of urgency in his voice. “Please don’t feel bad, okay? I just needed you to know that we’re still…” he fades off again, that familiar feeling of helplessness filling the air. He takes a moment before continuing, “You’re still my best friend and you always will be. I don’t want us to lose that. I don’t want to lose you any more. You’re my girl, Pops. Always will be.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Jake,” you confess, your voice cracking with pain.

“I know.” he replies, letting out a sigh, “And I understand.” Another moment passes between the two of you before he speaks again. “Listen, I’ve got to go, we are going on soon and Josh is breathing down my neck, but I’m glad you called. It means a lot to hear your voice. Let’s try and…I don’t know, talk more?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry to keep you, I just…” you pause, “Have a good show, Jake... a-and thank you for the flowers.”

“Of course, anything for my girl,” he answers, “and Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you…” you trail off.

“Call soon?” he asks, the volume in the background starting to grow louder.

“I’d like that,” you breathe, feeling the distance from him even more than before.

“Good. Okay, well have a good night, P.” he says softly, and right before you think he’s hung up you hear him whisper, “It’s still us, Poppy.”

“Still us,” you confirm, the call ending as the words leave your lips.

January 4, 2017

Jake 8:12 AM: Just signed the contract for a headlining world tour. I can’t believe it, Pops.

You 7:58 PM: I’m so proud of you Jake

March 28, 2017

Jake 11:04 PM: Just walked past a street vendor selling red poppies. Apparently they are a big thing here. Thought of you. Miss you.

You 11:24 PM: I miss you too. Where are you at these days?

Jake 11:30 PM: In Paris right now, England tomorrow, then Scotland. It’s beautiful here.

You 11:32 PM: I can only imagine.

Jake 11:33 PM: One day, Pops.

June 7, 2017

You 12:25 PM: Did I just see that you guys are playing Lollapalooza?! Jake!

Jake 1:49 PM: You did, can you believe it?

You 1:50 PM: We used to daydream about that

Jake 1:56 PM: No more dreaming. Can I save you an Artist wristband?

You 1:58 PM: You’d do that for me?

Jake 2:00 PM: Of course poppy, you’re my girl.

August 3, 2017

Jake 8:09 AM: P, it’s show day and I haven't heard from you. You still coming? Your wristband is at will call.

You 10:23 AM: Jake, I am so so so sorry. I can’t find anyone to cover my shift tonight at work. I’ve been trying for weeks. I hate to miss this. I am so sorry. :(

Jake 10:40 AM: Ahh, it’s alright P, there will be more. I’ll catch you at the next one.

You 10:45 AM: I won’t miss the next one. I swear.

Jake 10:46 AM: I’m holding you to it. Call soon.

November 10, 2017

You 2:21 PM: Thank you for the poppies Jake. They are even more beautiful than last years bouquet. Miss you so much.

Jake 3:04 PM: Anything for you, Y/N. Happy Birthday.

February 18, 2018

Jake 7:34 PM: *Open in Spotify* - Bad Company - Call On Me

You 7:45 PM: I remember listening to this album in your car non stop senior year lol

Jake 7:48 PM: Still one of the very best. I always think of you when I hear that one though.

You 7:50 PM: Even if I called on you I don’t think you could get here very quickly. Last I saw on Instagram you guys were in Belgium.

Jake 7:54 PM: We are, but all you need to do is say the word, Pops.

You 8:00 PM: Miss you.

Jake 8:01 PM: Miss you more.

April 4, 2019

Jake 7:48 PM: My mom said she got your graduation invitation in the mail today. So proud of you Y/N.

You 8:21 PM: It feels like it went by so fast. I can’t believe it’s over. I actually just received my acceptance letter from the University of Michigan today. I’m officially going to Law School.

Jake 8:30 PM: You continue to amaze me Poppy. I’m glad we both get to live our dreams.

You 8:32 PM: ❤️

University of Michigan Law School - Ann Arbor, Michigan

August 12, 2019

You 7:52 AM: I’m freaking out, what if I can’t do this Jake

Jake 8:00 AM: what?

You 8:01 AM: It’s my first day of classes at UofM

Jake 8:02 AM: Do you think I wasn’t petrified the first time I stepped onto a real stage? I know you can do this P. If I can do that, you can do this. You can do anything.

You 8:03 AM: Thanks Jake

Jake 8:05 AM: Call me later and let me know how it went. We are on break for the next week so I’m free whenever.

November 10, 2019

You 3:47 PM: Jake! You’re so sweet. Gorgeous flowers, but I have to know how you got my new address?

Jake 3:50 PM: Don’t worry about that, I have my ways. Happy Birthday my girl. I’ll call soon.

University of Michigan Law School - Ann Arbor, Michigan

May 18, 2020

You can faintly hear a persistent buzzing, the sound pulling you from your sleep. You realize it’s your phone buzzing away on your nightstand with an incoming call. You roll over, reaching for it in the darkness of the room, noticing the time on your alarm clock says 2:47 AM. You wipe the sleep from your eyes as they adjust to the harsh light of your phone, but that's not what really wakes you. It’s the name on the screen that has you sitting up straight in your bed.

“Jake?” you breathe, sliding your thumb against the glass. “Hello?” you answer groggily.

“Poppy…” he replies, his voice deep and gravely.

“Jake, what's wrong, is everything okay? It's like 2:30 in the morning?” you rush out, your heart starting to pound.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, baby doll,” he answers, “I just…I needed to hear your voice.”

You can hear the slurring in his words and you know he's had too much to drink. That, and he hasn’t called you that pet name in years, “What’s going on, Jake? You don’t sound okay.”

He’s silent for a moment, seemingly gathering the right words to say, “‘M fine, Pops. It’s just been a bad day. Hell, it’s been a bad week. A bad month. Everything is fucking exploding in our faces.”

“What do you mean?” you ask nervously, clutching your sheets in your fist.

He lets out a deep sigh, “God, everythings just falling apart. With the album, with tour–” he cuts himself off. There’s another pause before he speaks again. “It’s just all such a mess and I miss you, Pops. I miss you so damn much. I don’t know if I can do all of this.”

“What? What do you mean? Is it because of all this Covid stuff?” you ask.

“That, and so many other things. We had all these plans to release the new album and tour and then everything came to a screeching halt. We’re essentially in lockdown now, and I don't know when we will start up again. I can’t just sit, Pops, you know that. I just can’t,” he sighs heavily. “But it’s not just that,” he pauses for a moment, his words becoming a little more slurred, “There’s a million things, and I know I sound so whiny, but–”

“No, go ahead, get it all out. Tell me. I'm here. I'm listening.”

“I don't even know how to put it all into words. There’s just so much. The pressure, the uncertainty, the loneliness of it all, the shit with the label, my parents calling all the time asking what's going on, Josh bitching everytime something doesn’t go his way. Nothing is going right,” he pauses, “and you're not here.”

“I know. I know I'm not, but I think I understand a little bit at least. All my classes are virtual right now, finals and everything. It’s not how I ever imagined Law School going. I don't think I have left my apartment in weeks. I haven’t talked to a real person in a while. It's scary and everything is uncertain right now. I get it Jake. I do, and I miss you. I miss you so much.” you answer.

“Yeah, exactly,” he sighs, “I just feel like– everything is going wrong and falling apart and I don’t know how to stop it. I just want…I want you,” he pauses, “I want you here. Things would be better if you were here. You would know what to do.”

“Well, where are you? Are you…at home or–”

“I’m locked in this fucking house in Nashville. Feel like a fuckin’ prisoner. All I can do is play guitar and write and drink, and– I just need out.” he groans.

“Nashville...You–You live in Nashville now? In a house? I had no idea you guys left Michigan.” you say a little despondently.

“See, this is exactly what I mean. I want you to know these things. You deserve to know. I– I should’ve called. But, yeah, we got a place last year. Me and Josh. It made sense with us starting to record and touring, being centrally located and all that. But it’s not my permanent home. This is not what I want.” he adds hastily.

“Yeah, I understand, that makes sense, I just didn't know,” you pause, “I wish- I mean, how far are you from Ann Arbor? You know you can always come visit for a while. I’ll be busy with school work but at least we could…” you trail off.

“I’d say maybe…six hours, give or take,” he answers, and his mind starts to wander a little. “I wish I could just hop in the car and come to you. I miss your face. Just you, in general,” he says, the drunken honesty coming through. “But the label has us on fucking lockdown. Can’t leave the city even if we wanted to.”

“Oh. Okay. I understand.” you answer, pain coloring your tone.

He picks up on your change in tone, his voice growing a bit more sober, “Shit, no, P. I didn’t mean to upset you. I don’t want you to feel like I wouldn’t just drop everything and come to you right now, you gotta believe me. I wish I could. I’d leave now and be there by morning.”

“No, Jake it’s fine, I get it. I was just daydreaming.” you answer, swallowing thickly.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for everything. I feel like everything has just been too much and I just wanted to hear your voice. But I shouldn’t have called you like this, I know you’ve got a lot of stuff going on with school right now. I shouldn’t have burdened you with my bullshit.” he says, his voice sounding just as pained as yours.

“Never apologize for that Jake. That’s what I’m here for. I want to know, and I know you would do the same for me if the roles were reversed.”

“I’d do anything for you, Y/N. You know that I would,” he responds, his words almost a whisper now. You can still hear the buzz of alcohol in his voice, but now it’s only a slight slur instead of drunken rambling. “You were always my person. My safe place.”

“And you’re mine,” you whisper.

You can hear him sigh heavily on the other line, and the two of you let a comfortable silence fall over the line. You’re both lost in your thoughts, just content to hear the other breathe. He finally breaks the silence, his voice quiet and hoarse, “When I get out of this hell hole, I’m coming to find you. I need to see you again. It can’t be another year without you.”

“You know where to find me,” you grin.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. He’s silent for a moment, just listening to you breathe. “I should let you get some sleep. You got school and work and… life to deal with tomorrow, huh?”

“Sadly, yes. But, I– enjoyed this. I’ve missed your voice. It’s nice to lay here with my eyes closed and pretend like it's old times.”

“Yeah,” he says softly, “This was good. I feel better now, I really do. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. We’ve got a lot to catch up on…and I’m sorry I had to be drunk to find the balls to call you.” he giggles. “Can I call you again sometime soon? Preferably when I’m a little more sober?”

“Please do,” you answer with a laugh.

He laughs softly along with you, the sound of his laugh is familiar yet different after all this time, “Okay, I’ll call you soon then. I promise. Goodnight, my Pops.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

Detroit, Michigan

March 13, 2022

“And send,” you whisper to yourself, finally leaning back in your office chair as the email flies into the ether. You let out a deep exhale, checking the time. Only one more hour before you leave for the day. You take in your surroundings, seeing your colleagues still busy and working away on case files and reports. It wasn’t easy landing this job and it has been taxing to say the least, but in a few years you would be up for partner and you would do anything to make your dream a reality. Today though, you were leaving a little earlier than usual. You had plans tonight, plans you weren’t one hundred percent sure you should follow through with, but it had been years after all, and part of you is dying to see him. Jake.

You’d been following along with the band's success for years now, watching them grow to crazy levels of fame in such a short amount of time. You think back to the night Jake called you, so worried about the new album, and now it was their most successful release to date. It truly was incredible and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to see them play it live. And tonight, you would.

When you saw that they had plans to play in Saginaw you knew you had to make the drive. You requested the time off and now today was the day. Your heart has been in your throat all day waiting for it to drop to your stomach the moment you see him on stage tonight. It only took a few messages with Karen to find out that you had standing tickets waiting for you. Stating that ‘Jake wouldn’t have it any other way’. You could tell she missed him, missed all her boys actually, and you knew the pain all too well.

You knew he would look different, from the pictures you’d seen you could tell his hair was longer, and his boyish figure was now that of a man. But he wasn't the only one, all of the guys' looks had changed dramatically, and part of you felt like you hardly knew them anymore. You had no plans of telling Jake that you would be there tonight, you wanted to see him play a good show without the burden of knowing you were out in the crowd watching. You have your outfit picked out and waiting for you on your bed, knowing you only had a few quick minutes to change and get on the road when you clocked out at the office for the day. Now, all there was left to do was wait.

The traffic couldn’t have been worse. The freeway was congested with an accident and roadwork, and as your hands gripped the steering wheel you began to feel nervous that you might not make it in time. You pushed away the nervous feeling, turning up the volume of the music playing through your car speakers. You’d done your research, listening to the new album a hundred times over, and tonight you’d put that knowledge to the test as you tried your best to sing along with every song they would play. As you sang along now, you let go of your stress and relaxed into the music, watching as miraculously the road cleared in front of you and you continued on your way to Saginaw.

With your ticket in hand you searched for your seat in the crowd, finding yourself surrounded by familiar faces. Faces you hadn’t seen since you left home. It felt like a big reunion in section 102, and you couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off of your face if you tried. When you finally found your seat you looked up to see Karen sitting a seat away, turning to face you as you sat down next to her.

“Oh honey, you made it,” she cooed, pulling you in for a hug.

“Yeah, yeah I did! Got stuck in some terrible traffic leaving Detroit, I didn’t know if I was going to make it on time.” you answer, waving hello to a few other friendly faces around you.

“I am so glad you’re here, I haven’t seen you in years! You really should come home and see everyone soon. We all miss you!” she says, with a soft smile, “I’m glad he sat you with us. Right where you should be.”

You give her a confused look and she laughs.

“Look around, you’re in the family section,” she pauses, and suddenly you realize shes right. “I can’t wait to see them play tonight, it’s been a year or so.”

“Well I guess I should confess that I haven't seen them since their first little tour. I think they were openers. It was back in college.”

“Oh well, you’re in for a surprise then. They are just fantastic now, they’ve really stepped it up since then. Oh, Jake is going to be so happy to see you.” she gushes.

“I actually didn’t tell him I was coming,” you pause, “we haven’t talked in a little while. He’s been busy touring and I’m working at a firm now. Life hasn’t been the best to our friendship.” you confess.

“Oh honey I hate to hear that. You’ll have to come with me after the show to see everybody. I’m sure they would all love to say hello.” she offers.

“Like backstage? I don’t know. Maybe. I–”

“No excuses, we’re going.” she smiles, just as the lights dim and music begins to play through the arena.

Your heart is positively thumping in your chest as you hear what you believe to be Josh’s voice as he talks over a piece of music. You feel your insides grow warm as he talks, your eyes filling with tears as you listen to the beautiful words he's crafted. The crowd explodes in cheers full of anticipation as the arena goes black and the curtain covering the stage begins to flash with red lights.

You’re scared of what you will see when the curtain drops. Scared of the changes you’ll see in their faces, the changes you’ll notice in their playing, but mostly you’re scared that he may not recognize you if he does see you, because that would crush you.

Suddenly the curtain falls down to the ground as loud music begins to fill the arena. Your eyes are immediately on Jake, his long dark hair and his two piece suit. He looks so amazing you feel like you could fall to your knees right here in the stands. But then, he spots you, and for that few seconds it’s just the two of you there in that arena.

A wave of shock sets in as soon as his eyes land on you. For a brief moment you can hardly believe that it’s real, that you’re seeing him in person and not just in the memories that haunt you during the dark hours of night. But there he is, living his dream right in front of your very eyes.

He stands in front of the crowd, guitar in hand. The bright spotlight is so white it almost hurts your eyes, but once your vision adjusts you’re struck by the sight of him. He’s slightly sweaty and disheveled, his jacket open and hair already sweaty and messy. He’s never looked more handsome than he does standing on that stage. He stands still for a moment, the shock of seeing you here has shaken him to the core, that is obvious to you. But he quickly shakes it off, and continues with the show, playing for the crowd that is screaming his name.

By the third song you are having to pick your jaw up off the floor. The way he is working the crowd is a vast difference from the last time you watched him play, still shy and unsure of himself on stage. He’s got a presence to him now, a confidence that you don’t remember seeing when you first watched him play years before. It shows in the way he moves on the stage, in the way he plays to the crowd, and in the way he works the guitar like it’s an extension of himself. He plays his heart out for the next hour, his movements smooth and precise. Jake is in his element just like he always knew he would be.

The encore is upon you, and you can’t wait for him to be back on stage. Finally, he bounds up to the stage again, his energy and excitement at an all time high. You can tell he’s having the time of his life, the lights and cheers making him feel like he could fly. Josh is right behind him, grabbing the microphone and beginning to speak. “Thank you all for an incredible night,” he yells to the crowd, “But we’re not done yet. How about another one?” The room fills with loud cheers again. Your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest as Jake turns his body to look at you, pointing his guitar in your direction as he acknowledges you. Your cheeks are on fire as he sends you a smile, Karen grabbing your arm as she watches the interaction.

“Told you he’d be happy to see you,” she shouts over the music.

You feel overwhelmed with emotion and excitement; not just by the fact that he spotted you in this giant crowd, but also by the fact that he is so clearly expressing a level of happiness because you’re here right now. The connection you feel to him is unlike anything you’ve felt in a long time.

He finishes the show with his heart on his sleeve. It ends on an incredibly high note, and he takes one last bow to the crowd as they start to leave. He starts walking off the stage, Josh in tow and you realize that now, you will go backstage with Karen and you’ll have to face him.

“Alright honey, you up for saying hello?” she asks, both of you making your way out of the aisle and towards the floor.

Your body is shaking with nerves as you answer her, “Yeah, I should. It’s been too long.”

You and Karen make your way to the back where the band is waiting, still a little winded from the show. A few roadies are already packing up the stage equipment, and the crew is helping to dismantle the set. There is so much going on behind the scenes that you had no clue about. So many moving parts and pieces.

Karen ushers you back towards the dressing rooms, each of the guys having their own space to dress and prepare. When did they get so fancy?

“Okay, Jake should be right through there, I’m going to go find Josh. Come find me if you need anything.” she says, leaving you at his dressing room door.

Your hands are shaking, you’re unsure if you’ll even be able to raise your hand to knock. You smooth out your skirt and take a deep breath, fixing your hair a little as you try to calm your nerves. It’s Jake. It’s just Jake.

Finally getting over the shock and nervousness, you knock softly on the door. You hear shuffling behind the door and your heart starts to pound in your ears. You hear him call out through the door, “Just a minute.”

Your heart jumps into your throat as you hear his voice through the door. It sounds like he’s just getting out of the shower, and with a towel wrapped around his waist he opens the door. The shock on his face is undeniable as he sees you standing there. He was expecting anything but you. “Pops,” he whispers, saying your name as if he were trying to convince himself that you were real.

“H-hi Jake,” you stammer, your nerves making themselves known.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just staring at you in disbelief. He’s still dripping wet from the shower, beads of water running down his bare chest. His face relaxes and a familiar softness sets in, a soft smile crossing his face. “You’re really here.” His gaze roams over your body, drinking in every inch.

“Yeah, I'm here. You were–you were so amazing, I–”

It’s as if the sound of your voice brings a wave of peace over him, and before you know it he’s pulling you into a tight embrace, his body still damp from the shower. He pulls you against him, your body pressed to his bare chest. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, and you can feel his breath on your skin as he holds you. “I’m so fucking happy to see you,” he murmurs.

You hug him back, feeling all the guilt and nerves melt away from you, in a way that only he can manage. You can feel the water starting to seep through your clothes, and you pull away, looking between you with a smile. “You're wet, and naked,” you laugh.

He blushes at your words, suddenly remembering that he’s still just wrapped in a towel. “Shit,” he says, feeling an unusual shyness that he usually doesn’t feel around you. He steps back to the side of the door, holding it open for you to enter as he gives you a nervous smile. “Come in, just give me a sec and I'll change.”

“I can wait out here if you want, I know that we–”

“No, come in Pops. Please,” he says firmly, the towel still wrapped around him. It’s still hard to take your eyes off of his bare chest, but you walk into the room, trying to keep your focus on anything but him, not wanting to stare too long.

You watch as he saunters across the room, his long brown hair down to the middle of his back now, and dripping with water. You swallow harshly as your eyes travel over the curve of his ass in the towel, but you pull your eyes away before he turns around. He grabs a bag and slips into the bathroom, pushing the door shut behind him. You can hear a nasty cough come from behind the door and you furrow your brows. Is he sick?

You stand there by the couch, suddenly noticing the small bottle of cough syrup sitting at the edge of the side table. A few moments later, he emerges from the bathroom, dressed in worn jeans and a clean white t-shirt. He sits down on the couch and he lets out another few coughs, trying to clear his throat as he looks up at you. “Sit down,” he says, gesturing towards the spot next to him on the couch.

You take a seat next to him, and let out a soft breath. “Are you feeling okay?” you ask.

The cough is still in his throat, but he nods. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just have this damn cough that I can’t seem to shake.” He looks you up and down, finally being able to observe you as closely as he wants to since you showed up at the venue. “You look great,” he says, a warm smile on his lips.

You blush at his words, your eyes meeting his. The one thing about him that’s stayed the same over the years. “Thank you,” you say shyly.

His smile turns into a grin, the same boyish smile that you’ve always loved. “Of course.” He lets his gaze linger on your face, drinking you in as if he’s trying to memorize every little detail. He’s unable to keep his hands to himself, and before you know it he’s reached towards you. His fingers wrap around your wrist, and he gently pulls your arm towards him.

The feeling of his skin against yours causes the dam to break, “Jake, I–”

He doesn’t let go as he lets both of your hands rest in his lap. That same electricity that used to pass between you is there, and you can tell that the connection you’ve always had is as strong as ever despite the distance. He speaks softly, knowing how heavy the air between you two is. “I know.”

“No, please I–” you start, but you’re quickly cut off as the dressing room door flies open and a blonde woman, around the same age as you steps inside.

The sudden intrusion is like a bucket of ice water, and you pull your hands away from him as if you’ve been caught doing something wrong. He looks back at you, his expression soft and apologetic before he looks up at the new presence in the room. You look over at Jake, expecting to see some kind of reaction from him, but he actually just looks mildly annoyed.

“Hey, Viv,” he answers, turning his body to face her. She looks between the two of you, an expression on her face you can’t quite decipher.

She gives him a small smile, and she doesn’t even glance in your direction as she walks into the room. You try to stay as small as possible, as if trying not to be seen. She crosses her arms as she stands on the other side of the room. “How did the show go?” she asks, her voice is casual and unbothered. You suddenly feel like you shouldn’t be here.

“Was fine, got a little winded and lightheaded by encore,” he answers and she nods her head.

“Well, the crowd was big tonight and it got hot, plus all the lights. That'd make anybody winded,” she says, still keeping her focus on him. You sit there, feeling slightly uncomfortable, wondering why she seems so comfortable in his space. She starts to dig around in the bag on her shoulder and you turn to look at Jake.

The whole situation feels weird, and you don't understand why she is just standing there, going through her purse, while you and Jake sit there. His eyes flick over to you and you can see slight annoyance in them as he looks back at her.

Then it hits you like a ton of bricks. She’s not just some stranger. She’s here with Jake. For Jake. Oh god how could you be so stupid. Of course he’s seeing someone. You quickly shoot up, grabbing your bag and tossing it over your shoulder as quickly as you can, feeling so stupid to think tonight would be the night you’d work things out. She’s waiting for you to leave.

Jake’s eyes go wide as he sees what you’re doing, “Wait, no, Pops, where are you going?” He stands up from the couch, reaching his hand out to grab your arm but you pull away from him.

“I’m sorry– I didn’t know. I– You were amazing tonight, I’m sorry I–I didn’t know you— I’ll go–” you stammer, making your way to the door.

Jake practically lunges across the room, reaching the door at the same time you do. He turns you around to face him, the panic in his eyes apparent. “No, don’t go, let me explain–”

“No, no, you don’t have to. I understand. I shouldn’t have come back here. I don’t belong back here. I’m sorry,” you mumble pushing your way through the heavy wooden door.

“Poppy!” you hear him shout, his voice echoing through the busy hallway as you search for the nearest exit. You don’t turn around. You refuse to look back and let him see you like this. Your heart is absolutely more crushed than it ever has been, but you should have expected it. He is a rockstar and you’re…just Y/N.

He moved on, he found someone else to confide in. Someone that matches him. Someone else to trust with his secrets. Someone else to think of day and night, and finally you understand how he felt that night so long ago. Replaced.

You hear his voice fade as you walk out of the venue, leaving your heart behind you in a single, devastating moment. The warm night is replaced by a cold breeze as you step out, the tears falling down your face as you realize the past was just that. The past.

Frankenmuth, Michigan

December 31, 2022

The air is frigid outside, you’re sure this is the coldest winter you’ve ever experienced, even growing up here. There aren’t enough layers in the world, let alone in your suitcase. Thankfully in just two days you will be back home in Detroit where it's not too much warmer, but definitely not as cold as Frankenmuth. You’ve been home for the last two weeks visiting your parents, not seeing them nearly enough since you started at the law firm after graduation. It’s been nice to be home, but something about it feels different now. You are riddled with nostalgia and the memories seem to come back with a vengeance the longer you’re here. Memories you have all but pushed away lately, not letting them into your heart as you once did. Currently you and your parents are sitting in front of the fireplace sipping on wine as you watch the Rockin’ New Year’s Eve special on TV. The wine is warming you up a bit, but not nearly enough.

You’ve now brushed off dozens of invites from co-workers and even some old friends who are out on the town tonight, celebrating ringing in the new year. You know you should go, but something is telling you not to. Even your parents asked why you’re spending the evening at home instead of seeing old friends. You wish you had a good answer for them, but you don't.

“You really should go, honey,” your mom continues, finishing off her glass of red. “You’re only young once.”

“I know, but I just…I feel so disconnected from this place. I haven’t talked to these people since highschool,” you pause, “I just feel like I’m better off here.”

“I agree with your mother, hon,” your dad adds, “It will be good for you to get out. All you do is work these days. You deserve a night off.”

You let their words sink in as you look at your phone, seeing the ignored text from your old friend Isabelle begging you to meet her at Tiffany’s for a drink. Honestly, the thought of stepping into that bar again rattles you.

“Just one drink hon, ring in the new year,” your dad says, sending you an encouraging wink.

You look at her text again and let out a sigh, “Alright, fine. Maybe you’re right. It would be okay to let loose just a little. Tonight of all nights.”

“Thatta girl,” he says, nodding his head.

With the decision made you text Isabelle back, letting her know you will meet her there in thirty as you rush upstairs to change into something that isn't sweatpants and a hoodie.

It’s an eerie feeling walking into this bar, a place you used to frequent so often, so long ago. It’s been years since you've been back but it's exactly the same as you left it. The dining patrons are long gone, making way for the locals that use the bartop as their own personal therapy space, but tonight it’s a little different. It’s New Year's Eve and the bar is filled with unfamiliar faces. Of course, there are a few you recognize from high school, that much you expected. The air in the bar is much warmer than the air outside, thanks to the large group of people filling the small space. The lights are dim and music is playing from the old jukebox in the corner. The floor is already sticky from spilled drinks, and the air smells faintly of cigarettes.

“I’m gonna grab a drink, what do you want?” Isabelle asks, snaking her way through a group of people.

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” you answer, knowing it doesn't really matter.

She disappears into the crowd and you look around in search of a table you can ditch your jacket at. Most are taken, but you spot one in a corner with no occupants. You walk briskly towards it, throwing your jacket down onto the inevitably sticky table top as you sit and wait for Isabelle. You let your eyes wander through the bar picking out familiar faces, and even taking in some new ones, but you can’t seem to shake the feeling of uneasiness you’ve had since you walked through the door. Something is different, you just don’t know what.

A few minutes later a drink is placed in front of you that looks to be a whiskey and coke, and you secretly cheer that it's not something overly sweet.

“Made them a double cause the lines’ a bitch,” she says, taking her first gulp.

“Good call,” you smile, taking your own sip and letting the bubbles burn the back of your throat. Maybe your dad was right. You did need this. You and Isabelle sit and talk for a little while, letting the alcohol seep into your system and cast away your cares. But then you hear something. Something you haven’t heard in a long time. A song from long ago that has made a permanent home in your memories.

Through the crappy speakers you hear the opening notes to “Good Lovin’ Gone Bad” by Bad Company. You smile to yourself, thinking back on just how many times Jake played that album that summer. You both had practically every single lyric memorized by the time you left for college. A pang shoots through your chest as you picture him in your mind, and your mood suddenly sours.

“Hey, I’m gonna hit the bathroom real quick,” you pause, “Save our table?”

“Duh, see you in a few,” she says, taking another gulp of her drink.

You begin to make your way to the bathroom, needing a minute to yourself to freshen up and get Jake out of your head. You finally make your way to the opposite side of the bar, the bathrooms in your sight. But much to your surprise, something else oddly familiar catches your eye and your heart lurches up to your throat. No. It can’t be.

His back is towards you, but you would recognize his shoulders and hair anywhere. You spot him with a group of guys, all drinking and having a good time. A wave of nostalgia hits hard, remembering how things were back in the day before you both went your separate ways and he shot to stardom. The way you could walk up to him without second guessing it. Now you’re not so sure you can.

You try to turn around and walk away, knowing it's best to just go, but something has you frozen to the floor. You can see the way he holds the crowd at the bar, telling stories and cracking jokes in the same way he did at parties back in high school. He's a star in every sense of the word, but when the laughter fades for a second, you can almost see the sadness underneath it all.

He doesn’t notice you, at least you think he doesn’t, as you push forward and rush into the bathroom. Your heart is pumping harder than it has in months and you feel like you might be sick. There is no way you are going to be able to get out of this bar without talking to him, so you decide you need to pull it together and pretend like he isn’t even here.

You fix your make up, and smooth down your hair, taking a good long look in the mirror. You’ve got this. It’s just Jake. You take a few deep breaths and square your shoulders, preparing to face him and any uncomfortable conversation that may follow. You open the door and walk out into the bar, looking around as you do. You don't see him at the bar he was at before and for a split second your brain doesn't register that fact at all, but as you make your way out to the dance floor you look a few tables over and realize he is standing there, with his hands in his pockets watching you with the same intensity you’ve always seen from him.

He looks so handsome and he doesn’t even know it. His long brown hair hanging over his shoulders, his corduroy shirt hanging open and messy over his t-shirt. He is exactly the Jake you’ve always known. The Jake you always wanted. There’s a mustache, too, you notice. The accent of hair, complimenting his upper lip in a way that has your entire chest heating. It’s the perfect touch to his pretty face, adding a masculine touch that you hadn’t known was necessary for his overall aura until this moment.

Because god did he look impossibly more alluring with that addition.

You know it’s only a matter of time before you two speak, and you have no idea what he is thinking. But for once, Jake doesn’t hide his feelings from you, his eyes are glued to you, refusing to look away. Willing you to come to him, and your body listens.

You walk towards him, each step feeling heavier than the last, as if you're walking through quicksand. Your eyes stay locked on his face despite the nervousness running through your veins, and you can feel the electricity pouring off of him. He looks like he wants to say something, but he just stares at you. You can feel the memories of you together crashing through your head like a wave. You get closer and closer, the world around you fading away, until you’re standing right in front of him.

“It was you, wasn’t it. The song,” you ask, putting the pieces together immediately. “You knew I was here. You knew I would recognize it.”

His jaw clenches in response, and he lets a sad smile touch his lips before he says anything. “Yeah, it was. I saw you walk in. I knew it’d work,” he replies, the familiar rasp in his voice is softer than you remember, but still as deep and soothing as ever.

“Guess you were right,” you smirk, watching as his body language starts to soften.

He lets a soft chuckle escape, and he relaxes a little bit. You can see the tension melting away from his shoulders. “Some things never change, huh?” he says, his eyes roaming over your face and body briefly, taking in every detail he can.

“I didn’t know you were home,” you confess.

“I didn’t know you were home.” he says gently, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He looks down for a moment, as if he’s trying to find the right words. “I should’ve told you.”

You nod your head, “I could’ve called you too,” you pause, biting your lip, “It’s just ever since that night–”

“That night was not what you think. I wish you would’ve let me explain, Pops.” he urges, his hand reaching out to rest on your arm.

“It's- It's the past now Jake, you don't owe me anything,” you answer, the nickname searing a sore spot in your heart.

“Bullshit,” he snaps. “You know exactly what I owe you. But I’m not going to talk to you about this in a bar, surrounded by all these people,” he drops his hand from your arm, running it through his hair instead. “Come with me, please.”

You look around for Isabelle, but of course she is nowhere to be found, “Okay.”

He leads you out the back door of the bar, into the cool winter air. He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and grabs one, placing it between his teeth before lighting it just as quickly. He looks over at you for a moment, watching as you rub your arms to keep warm. “You’re cold,” he observes, noticing the goosebumps on your exposed skin.

“My jacket is inside,” you answer.

He shrugs off his corduroy shirt, draping it over your shoulders, before pulling you in a bit closer to him. The smell of tobacco and his cologne overwhelm your senses as he presses against your side. The heat radiating off of him is warm, and you instinctively bring the shirt closer around you, breathing in the familiar smell of him.

“Listen, Pops,” he pauses, taking another drag of his cigarette, “I’ve wanted to call you a hundred times since that night, explain what you think you saw…”

It hurts you to know he's thought about it too. “So why didn't you?”

“I was scared,” he admits bluntly, a cloud of smoke escaping his lips as he does. “You are the last person that I ever wanted to hurt, believe me. But you didn’t even let me get a word in. You left and just…” he sighs. “I didn’t know what the hell to do with myself. Still don’t. I think we are here right now in this shitty ass bar because the universe decided it was time for us to figure this shit out.”

“Maybe it is,” you agree.

He lets out a long exhale of smoke, his breath visible in the cold air. “You’ve always been smarter than me,” he says, throwing his cigarette to the ground and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know where to start, but I need you to hear me out here.”

“I'm listening,” you answer.

He paces to the edge of the sidewalk, running a nervous hand through his hair as he tries to compose himself. He takes a deep breath before he speaks again. “I know you think you know what you saw that night, but it wasn’t… That woman, Viv– Vivienne, she is our Tour Medic. Like our travel doctor. A few days before that show…I’d been sick. I didn’t want to admit it then, but I will now. I was sick, too sick. I shouldn’t have been performing. We needed to cancel those shows. I hid it the best I could, and I shouldn’t have and it made it all worse,” he pauses. “That night she came in to check on me after the show. I’d avoided her as long as I could and I think she just knew. She was coming to tell me that she was taking me to the hospital for my cough. She and I both knew it wasn’t normal and my time was up.”

“I– Yeah, I remember…I asked you…”

“I know. I know you did. Even you knew. I was going to tell you… But then, you– I don’t know you just freaked on me, and left. I wanted to explain but I wasn’t ready to admit what was going on.” he pauses, his lips trembling from the cold. “I went to the hospital that night and found out I had pneumonia. Bad. I– I was there for three days. I laid in that hospital bed and replayed you running out over and over again, Poppy. I wanted to call you and tell you but I just couldn’t. I was drained mentally and physically.”

“Jake, oh my god– I– I feel so stupid– I’m so sorry–”

“No, Pops, it’s not your fault. I know how it looked. I was just being too selfish to tell the truth.” he admits. “But now, you know.”

“You were in the hospital, Jake. I had no idea, I–We used to tell each other everything…What if something happened to you and I–” you trail off.

His body tenses at your words, and his expression morphs into a mixture of guilt and regret. “No, you’re right,” he says, defeated. “I was just…ashamed, I guess, that my body was failing me. It was such a low point…But I shouldn’t have let you walk out like that. I should have chased after you.” He looks back over at you, your face illuminated by the glowing neon bar signs and slowly he brings his hand to cup your cheek. “I can’t believe I let you go.”

Suddenly you hear the inside of the bar erupt with cheering and the loud countdown starting. “It’s almost midnight,” you whisper.

He looks back at the bar, then back at you, “I guess it is. I didn’t even realize it.” He says, his eyes glued to your face. The countdown gets closer and closer, and you can tell he is nervous. He looks almost afraid as he continues to talk. “I’ve really missed you, Y/N. I’ve thought about you so many times over these past few years, and it feels like no time has passed, but everything has changed,” he pauses, “I wish things could go back to the way it was.”

The world feels so still in this moment, even with all the ruckus inside the bar. “Ten seconds,” you note, eyes glued to his face as his warm hand rests on your cheek. He steps forward, his body so close to yours that you feel as though you’ll become one in this moment. The cold forgotten, his body almost feverish beside you. He runs his thumb across your cheek, his eyes glued to yours as the countdown gets lower and lower.

“Jake,” you whisper, your voice trembling with want.

He takes another step closer, his body inches apart from yours, and his lips only a breath away from yours “Poppy,” he whispers, his hot, shaky breath caressing your skin as he does. “I need you.”

“Three, two, one…”

Everyone in the bar cheers all around you. He’s so close now, you can hear the sharp inhales that are escaping his lips, and in the moments after the chaos of the New Year erupts, he closes the distance between the two of you. His lips are on yours in seconds, his hand pulling you in, his touch soft and needy.

The kiss is slow, it’s as if time has frozen in this sweet, tender moment. His hands slide into your hair, bringing your face to his, wanting all of you. The kiss is quickly growing desperate and needy. He pushes you against the brick wall of the building, his body pressing into yours, your heart racing as his hand moves from your hair to your waist. He gently lifts your leg pulling it around his waist as this kiss of reunion deepens even more. It’s filled with emotion and years of wanting, and your body is filled with an overwhelming sense of electricity.

He kisses you with everything he's got. His body craving your touch for so long. He pulls your body against his, wanting to feel every inch of you that he can. He deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth effortlessly, as if he’s memorized every curve, every crevice. You feel your stomach churning with need for him. The need for more.

You bring your hands up to wrap around his shoulders, the kiss getting deeper and more desperate with each passing moment. His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you tighter against his body, as if he can’t stand to have you away from him for even a second. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, and he lets out a low moan, his need for you stronger than ever. It’s as if no time has passed at all. Suddenly you’re right back in his basement kissing him for the first time.

You break the kiss, his name falling from your lips as your eyes open to meet his. “Jake...”

“P-Pops,” he stutters, struggling to find the words through his ragged breaths. “Fuck, I never should’ve let you go. It’s you, it’s always been you.” He presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his grip on you just as tight, if not tighter. “You– You just light a fire in me that everyone else seems to put out.”

You let your lips press a soft kiss to the side of his jaw before moving to his ear, “I’ll always be the one with a match to bring you back.”

“Goddamnit, Poppy,” His eyes flutter shut, and you can see that the sensation of your lips on his skin has driven him towards a bliss he hadn't experienced in a long, long time. The way your body fits against his is as natural now as it's ever been. It's as if you were molded to fit in his arms– as if nothing else in the world could ever feel as perfect as this. “I never want to let you go. I'm so goddamn sick of letting you go,” he whispers.

The desire is growing between your legs, and you can feel the evidence of his pressed against your stomach. Instinctively you rub against him, causing a growl to leave his chest. You’re no longer eighteen in the basement. You’re adults who need more.

He moves his body against yours, a low moan rising from his throat as he does. It’s as if he can feel the fire he’s lit up inside of you, and he’s desperate to fan the flames of the inferno that has always been there. “I’ve missed you so damn much,” he gasps, his hands starting to roam over your body. “Say you feel this. Say you feel it too.”

“I've always felt it Jake. Always.”

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, leaving small kisses, before sinking his teeth in gently. His hands are everywhere, as if he can't decide where he wants to touch first. He presses himself against you, his body flushed with need. “I want you,” he whispers, his words hot against your skin.

“I want you.” you pant, arching your neck to give him more.

He takes full advantage, his lips and teeth working their way up and down your neck, leaving a trail of marks in their wake. He can feel your need growing, and he responds to it with his own. He presses his body against yours with a primal force, his hand moving to cup your face, bringing your lips back to his. The kiss is hungry and needy, his tongue slipping into your mouth, searching for what he has been missing as his free hand finds the waistband of your jeans.

His hand begins to make a slow descent into your jeans, his rough fingertips sliding against your soft delicate skin. They brush the hem of your panties as his tongue continues to memorize yours. Your heart is pounding, your body aching for his touch where you need it most as the sound of “Auld Lang Syne” and distant fireworks boom around you.

A soft sound of need escapes from the back of your throat, the anticipation of his touch building an excruciating ache between your thighs. He uses his thumb to brush against the front of your panties, teasing you, as he breaks the kiss to whisper against your skin. “Do you know how badly I want you?” he asks, his voice low and rough, before returning to your neck and biting down softly.

You nod against him, still breathing harder than ever. He takes his time, his fingers running a lazy path against your skin, and you feel the heat growing between your legs as his touch gets closer.

He lets his fingers graze over the thin lace material of your underwear, gently tracing up and down in an agonizingly careful manner. His lips break away from your neck and move instead to your ear, his teeth taking the lobe gently. “I’ve dreamed about you like this, every night since the last time we touched,” he whispers, his voice raspy and low. “I’ve ached to feel your skin on mine, your body trembling under my touch.”

You feel his fingers move lower and lower until the heat of his touch is coated in your desire for him. “Jake,” you whine, totally lost in this moment with him.

His breath catches in his throat when he feels just how much you want him, and he lets out a low moan that makes your whole body tremble. “Fuck,” he whispers, his fingers tracing slow circles over your warm sensitive flesh. His lips find their way back to your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin, making your spine tingle as you whine.

“Shhh,” he coo’s, silencing your whimpers with a soft kiss. He slips his fingers past the fabric, his touch growing more intense as he finally finds what he’s been craving this whole time. “So soft. So beautiful,” he gasps. He moves his hand in a gentle rhythm, his fingers slipping between your folds, finding your sweet spot effortlessly. You feel euphoric, and at complete mercy to his touch. “Can you feel me? Can you feel what you do to me?”

“Yes,” you whine, “I feel everything.”

His fingers move faster as they dip inside, trying to get as deep inside of you as he can, desperate to feel every inch of you. “I dreamed up a hundred different ways to make you fall apart in my arms,” he whispers, his eyes locking on yours, “and nothing comes close to reality. Come home with me, Pops. Stay with me.”

Just as you start to feel your release creeping closer, the bar door slams next to you, pulling you both from the moment. Your eyes snap to Jake’s and his to yours as he quickly realizes the compromising position you’re in, removing his hand from your jeans.

He quickly steps back, straightening his shirt as you desperately try to regain your composure. You look around, hoping that whoever walked out of the bar doesn't look your way and catch you two in the state you were in. You're both panting, breaths ragged and desperate, and forced to ignore the needy ache that lingers between your legs.

It's as if a bucket of water has been dumped over your head, making you see clearly. Your eyes meet Jake's, his expression still waiting for you to answer his question. But as this rush of clarity takes hold of you, you realize exactly what you've done.

Your eyes are glued to each other, but this now feels different. Everything feels different. It’s as if the air around you is suddenly thick with unspoken words, the gravity of the situation crashing down around you both. He’s just staring at you, his chest still heaving as he tries to slow his own breathing. He clears his throat, breaking the silence that hangs in the air. “Poppy…”

Your head begins shaking, “No, Jake, we– we can’t do this– we…”

You're at battle with your own mind, fighting for what you want versus what you know is right.

His whole body goes rigid, the disappointment in your words written all over his face. He lets out a shaky breath, as if it physically pains him, “No– Don’t say that, we can, Poppy, please,” he begs softly.

“Jake we– we’re strangers. We know nothing about each other anymore. We– You’re a rockstar, you live in Nashville. I live in Detroit, I finally work for a firm. This is what we wanted. Isn’t it? This was our dream right? We can’t– You can’t…”

He swallows hard, trying to process what you’re telling him. You know you’re right, this is what you both wanted. He runs a nervous hand through his hair, his eyes looking for something to distract him from the crushing reality you just threw out in front of him.

“I know,” he whispers. He takes a deep breath, his mind and body still screaming to hold you. But the reality of it all is hitting you both like a train, and he’s trying desperately to keep his mind present in the moment. “I know all of that…I just–I don’t give a damn that I’m a rockstar, or that you live in Detroit,” he mutters, a defensive tone to his voice, “It’s you that’s missing, Pops. All day. All night. It’s you that’s in my head day in and day out. I want you. I always will. That is never going to change. We will never be strangers.”

Tears start to form in your eyes at his confession. You want to go with him. Run away and pretend nothing else matters. But it does, and you can’t. It can never be, no matter how badly you both want it.

His voice cracks, and he can feel the walls around his heart starting to crumble as he looks at you. He reaches out, taking your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your cheek softly. “It’s always been you, Poppy. It will always be you,” he whispers, his hand continuing to graze over your skin as if he was trying to memorize every tiny detail. “So please, just– forget it all. Come home with me.”

Your lips begin to tremble, knowing that you’re about to break his heart. Again. “Jake… I can’t.” you say, letting a tear slip from your eye.

You see the moment the weight of your words hits him, like a slow motion car crash that feels unavoidable. The look of complete defeat on his face makes you want to take it all back, tell him that you’re just as desperate as he is to throw everything aside. But you can’t. It’s just not possible. He lets his hands fall slowly from your face, and the space between your two bodies growing feels like your heart shattering all over again. “Okay.”

For some reason, that breaks you, your tears falling faster now as you see the pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” you breathe, leaning in to kiss him softly one last time.

He returns your kiss with his own, gently taking your face in his palms. It’s as if he’s committing the feel of you to memory, the way he’s holding you, the way your lips fit so perfectly together. He doesn’t want to let go, and he holds the kiss as long as he can, until breathing becomes a desperate fight for air. When he finally does break the kiss, he whispers against your lips just loud enough for you to hear, “It’s still us, Pops.” and with that, he lets you go, leaving him there as small snow flurries begin to fall to the ground.

With a heavy heart you finally make your way inside your childhood home, tossing your coat onto the couch. You collapse into your bed, letting the tears fall now that you’re alone in your solitude again. You can hear the snow falling harder now, tapping against your bedroom window. You can still feel the faint remnants of his touch on your skin, his warmth lingering in your heart as you remember the taste of his lips. Jake. Your Jake. Yours for only minutes before you pushed him away. But you know it's for the best.

You drag yourself up from the bed and change into your cozy pajamas, realizing you are still wearing Jake’s shirt. You bring it to your nose and breathe in his smell, sending you into a new round of tears. You put the shirt back on and crawl back into bed, needing to feel his presence close to you. You bring the neck of the shirt up, enveloping yourself in it like a blanket, your body still trembling with need.

It feels like it's been hours. You're exhausted, but your mind still won't put Jake to rest. There’s no escaping the fact that you're still just as hopelessly in love with him as you were the first time you met. As if he is thinking of you too, your phone buzzes next to your head, his name illuminating the screen with a text.

Jake 1:42 AM: I keep thinking about what happened. I can still taste you on my lips. I know what you said, and I understand but I can’t let it be over, Pops. I just can’t.

Your heart shatters reading his message. You know how he feels because you feel the exact same way. You don’t even know what to say to him, so you just don’t. You lock your phone and put it back on your nightstand, turning off the lamp and attempting to sleep this terrible, beautiful night away. There is, however, an unbelievable thrum between your legs that you can’t seem to ignore.

You toss and turn, trying so hard to sleep, but it’s pointless. The only thought going through your brain is of Jake. That deep need for him is building in intensity, your body wanting his touch desperately, your mind remembering every detail of the time you spent wrapped together against the building just an hour ago. You let your hand wander down beneath the sheets, your fingers pushing beneath the waistband of your pants.

He’s all you can think of. It’s as if the flood gates are now wide open, and you’re finally allowing yourself to let Jake occupy every space in your mind and body, and there is nothing else you need. You close your eyes, but all you can see is Jake’s face. His strong, handsome features, the way his lips form as he speaks…

With your eyes shut tight, you picture his body hovering over yours. The scent of him, his touch, the way his body felt against yours as he leaned into you. You let yourself fantasize about him being here with you, wanting you and only you. You imagine the way his lips felt all over your skin, the way he let his teeth graze over your neck and collarbone. The memory of it makes you shiver and your fingers work faster and faster, seeking the release you’ve craved for so long.

You feel like you’re right at the peak of surrendering to this imaginary version of him, when you hear your phone start to ring. Your eyes shoot open as you pull your hand from under your sheets. You reach for your phone but this time your brain is too hazy to think clearly. You see his name on the screen, along with a picture of him you set as his photo years ago. Against your better judgement you slide your thumb across the screen, needing to hear his voice.

“Hello?” you breathe, your voice coming out as a breathy pant.

His voice sounds soft and vulnerable, “Hey…” he breathes, sighing on the other end of the line, “I didn’t think you’d answer…I was just laying here, can’t sleep. I don’t know why I called, I just, I saw you read my text earlier and you didn’t answer– I don’t want this to be us. I never want that.”

“I know,” you pause, trying to even your breathing, “I'm sorry.”

“How can this be it?” his voice sounds strained now, the emotion in it pulling at your heart, “How is this the end? I can't make sense of it, all I can think about is you.”

Hearing his deep, gravely voice has your hand slipping back under the sheets, resuming its previous work. “I– I never said it was the end…”

“The way you walked away sure made it seem that way,” he says, and it breaks you in two.

“It took everything I had Jake, you have to know that,” you say, your voice even more breathy than before and you know that you need to calm down before he takes notice, but the sound of his voice has your hand continuing to move.

He notices the slight change in your tone, picking up on the way your breathing gets more shallow and more uneven, “Are…Are you okay? You sound…different. Where are you? You sound like you’re out of breath.”

“I'm at home now. In my bed,” you pause, breathing into the phone, “Where are you?”

He lets out a shaky sigh into the phone. You know he’s figured it out, and if you know him like you think you do he isn’t going to change the subject.

He wants nothing more than to be there, to hear every noise he could pull out of you, to feel every shiver and tremble as he worships every inch of your body. “I’m…I’m in my bed too. But I haven’t turned the light off yet.”

“Turn it off, Jake,” you breathe.

Your self control is gone. You want this. No, you need this.

You can hear him inhale a sharp, stuttering breath, a quiet, breathy moan escaping him as he takes in your words. He knows what you’re asking for. He’s wanted it in some form for years. The phone jostles a few times before he says, “Done.”

You hum in response, continuing to run your fingers through your soaking wet folds. Something about the sound of his voice and the smell of his cologne wrapped around you has you soaking in this moment and throwing your cares to the wind.

“Let me send an Uber, Poppy, please,” he manages to breathe, the desperation in his words sending a shiver down your spine. “Come to my hotel. I fucking hate not finishing what I start.”

“So finish it,” you tease.

“God damn. Get in the Uber, Y/N.”

“No, no Uber. Just this. Just...talk to me Jake,” you whine.

His breath catches in his throat and he lets out a groan, the sound going straight to your core. You can hear him moving around in his bed, shifting to a more comfortable position, the sheets rustling as he does. You know he wants to touch himself, but he’s trying to resist. “I don’t know if I can just talk. Not knowing you’re…like that.”

“For what it’s worth, you felt better,” you confess in an airy breath.

“Fuck, Pops,” he groans, “You don’t even know how many times I’ve thought about you like that. I’d die to have you on my fingers again.”

“I want you,” you breathe, “But I know this is the only way I can have you.”

He is quiet for a bit, the only sounds you can hear from him are the heavy breaths he’s trying so hard to control. You’re picturing it all, imagining exactly what he looks like on the other end of the line.“You can have me,” he whispers, his voice low and rough, “I’m all yours, baby.”

“You've never been mine, Jake…”

“I’ve always been yours,” his words are spoken quickly, his voice almost a pleading whine. “I’ve always been yours. You’ve always been mine. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

His words sear through you, your fingers circling your clit faster now, causing a whine of pleasure to leave your chest.

“Fucking hell, Poppy.” His voice comes through the phone, raw and ragged. “Are you…Is there a way…Can I see you at least?”

You think about it for a second, and you know the sight of him will send you straight to that sweet release you've been chasing all night. “Only if you join me…” you counter.

“Do you think my hand isn’t already wrapped around my cock, listening to you whimper like that? Thinking about you touching yourself in all the ways I’ve dreamed of?”

“Show me, Jake.” you breathe.

You quickly switch your phone to Facetime, your thumb hesitating over the call button. You know that there’s no coming back from this, but you can’t help yourself. You need to see him, and you’re not going to let your fear stop either of you from taking what you both want. “Answer the call.”

You press the button and watch as his face fills your screen, his chest heaving with each ragged breath he takes, his silver necklace laying against his body. He’s propped up against the headboard, his skin flushed with a light sheen of sweat that makes your body heat up even more. “You…” he whispers, “God, look at you. You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

“Jake…” you moan his name, your hand moving faster and faster.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty. I can’t….I need…” he stops, unable to find the right words.

You stop suddenly, realizing that he can’t see that much of you. “Hold on,” you say, dropping your phone to the bed as you peel your shirt over your head, leaving your chest exposed. This will be the first time he’s seen you like this, but you feel more confident than ever. You prop your phone up on a pillow, allowing him the full visual of you.

He sucks in a sharp breath as your shirt comes off, his eyes going wide as he stares at your bare chest, completely mesmerized by you. “Jesus Christ,” he whispers, his eyes glued to your body, “You are so perfect. It’s not even possible that someone is this perfect,” You watch his hand move, disappearing under the sheets and moving slowly down his body until he starts to move the sheets so you can watch. “I want you to see me, too.”

It’s dark but you watch as he props his phone up the same way, giving you the exact same view. His cock is hard and throbbing in his hand, bigger than you ever dreamed of, but exactly what you felt beneath his pants at the bar tonight. “Jake, I wish–”

“Say it,” he responds quickly, unable to wait another second to hear your words. He’s almost painfully hard right now, but he needs to hear it all. “Please say it, baby. Talk to me.”

The new pet name sends you spiraling, admitting things you would never admit in the light of day. “I want to feel you. I need to know how you would feel inside of me. I need you, Jake. All of you,” you whine, watching his hand stroke his cock a little faster.

“Fuck, I’ve never wanted anything like I want that. I need you, too. I need to feel every single inch of your body. I need to do all the things I’ve dreamed about. You have no idea how many times I’ve laid here thinking of you. Wishing that I had you in my bed.” He stops his hand, trying to keep his mind together. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” you answer.

He pauses for a moment, as if he’s afraid to give in to the moment completely. But his need for you is stronger than his common sense. “Take your panties off, but don't touch yourself again. Not until I tell you to. I want you to listen, I want you to feel this.”

You comply, sliding your panties over your legs and tossing them to the floor. He can see all of you now, your wetness glowing in the dim light of the phone.

“You’re everything,” he moans softly, his hand moving again. “You are as perfect now as you’ve ever been. I can’t believe I’m seeing you like this.”

“Tell me what to do, Jake,” you plead.

The control he’s desperately trying to keep is starting to crack. Every part of him is wanting to rip that phone from his hand and be there with you. “Touch your inner thighs,” he requests, his voice sounding low and strained. “Just your thighs, don’t touch anywhere else.”

You comply, running your fingers over your thighs as the sound of his voice gives you goosebumps.

He watches you, his eyes glued to the way your fingers move over your skin. His hand slowly working over himself, his need to touch you growing. “Good girl…Does it feel good to touch your skin?” he asks, his hand moving faster.

“Yes, but I wish it was you,” you admit, your legs starting to shake with anticipation.

“I know,” he whispers, “I know, babydoll. You have no idea how desperately I need it to be my hands.” He bites the inside of his cheek, fighting back the words he wants to say.

“Jake,” you practically moan his name, your back arching as the need for him consumes you from the inside out. You let your eyes flutter closed as you let your hands roam over that most sensitive part of you. “It feels so good but it’s not enough. I need to…I need…” you plead, your whimpers filling the void between you.

He can’t take it anymore. Your desperate whimper has shattered the last bit of his resolve, leaving only pure desire in its place. As much as he wants to watch, to see every bit of you come unraveled, he can’t stand it anymore. He has to see you. “Look at me, baby.”

Your eyes flick to his, seeing them dark and blown out with lust.

“Spread your legs, let me see you,” he growls, and slowly you do as he says, placing the phone back down against the pillow.

Watching you spread your legs is the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. The way you’re trembling underneath your own touch makes him let out a soft moan, his hand starting to work faster. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathes, completely entranced by you. “Touch your clit for me, baby.”

Your hand moves without hesitation as his words ignite something inside of you. He gasps, completely hypnotized by everything he’s seeing. “Slowly, baby,” he whispers, drinking every moment in. “Don’t rush it.”

Your fingers move in soft, slow circles over your clit as you do what he requests, desperate to obey him. You’re already so close to that edge, his voice is sending you flying. “That’s it, just like that,” he’s praising you, and the look in his eyes says he’s as close as you are. “Keep doing it, baby. Don’t stop.”

“Are you touching yourself, Jake? Are you hard for me?” you ask, knowing he needs this release as much as you do.

He groans, his head dropping back as your voice fills his ears. “God, yes. You have no idea how hard I am right now. All I want….No, all I need is to bury myself inside of you. I need to feel you, all of you, every warm inch… I need it more than air. I need you, baby. I need you so badly.” he says, flipping his phone around to show you his beautiful cock as he works it with his hand. Precum has started to gather on the tip and you wonder how he tastes.

“I want to taste you, Jake. I want to feel you in my throat. I want to swallow down every last inch of you. So fucking bad,” you whine.

“Jesus…” his words come out as a strangled gasp. “I want that, too. I’ve dreamed of having your mouth wrapped around me, of seeing you on your knees, swallowing my cum. I want it so badly, baby. I’d give you everything.” he says. “Put two fingers in baby, move your thumb to your clit.”

You sink two fingers into yourself, the camera positioned perfectly for him to watch how your body takes the digits. “Oh god, Jake,” you cry, wishing more than anything it was him.

“Oh fuck, look at you. I’m never going to forget this. I’m never going to be the same after seeing you like this.” He takes a moment to just watch your body, his hand still moving furiously on his length. “I need you to keep going, just like that, but start with a third one. I want to see how much you can take, because that’s how much I’m going to give you. As soon as I get my hands on you, I’m going to wreck you, Poppy.”

“Please Jake, I’m so close,” you whine, adding a third finger.

His chest is heaving, his hand moving at a rapid pace. His eyes watch your every movement, drinking it all in. “I know, baby,” he responds, his voice ragged. “I can see you getting tight around those fingers. I need to hear you Poppy, I need to see your face as you come for me.”

“Come with me, Jake. Please,” you beg.

“Together, then, ” he breathes. “I’m fucking close. Come for me, baby. Right now.” He’s on the edge, and watching you is going to take him over. “I’m right there, you have no idea. Just come, baby. Look at me, let me see my girl fall apart for me.”

Your eyes lock on his as you fall apart against your own fingers. Your mind tricks you into thinking it's him, letting loose the most powerful release you’ve felt in years as his name falls from your lips.

He sees the wave hit you, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Hearing his name in that moment does it, it’s all he needs. He gasps as he watches you and lets go, “Fuuuuck,” he whimpers, shuddering as release begins to wash over him. “Y/N…Poppy...” he grunts, “I’m coming, I’m fucking coming,” he grunts, his body tensing as his cum lands on his bare chest in several hot spurts.

It’s like a freight train, the way it builds and then comes crashing down. And then it’s over. All that’s left besides the ragged breathing is the blissful silence. And as it clears, you find him there staring at you like it’s the first time he’s seen you. He looks so vulnerable, so open. His body is still, but his chest is rising and falling as the last hints of what you did are still visible on his chest in the dim light. The words hang between you, heavy with the impact of everything you just did.

“Poppy,” he whispers, still catching his breath.

That word breaks your heart, and you find yourself unable to speak for a minute. The weight of all of this is taking over your chest and you have to swallow to find your voice. “Jake,” is all you can manage to say.

He just stares at you. It’s like a dream. You’ve been here, in this moment a million times, but it’s never been real until tonight. All of this feels so impossible, and you’re still trying to make sense of it.

“I…” he tries to speak, but his voice is barely a whisper. “I don’t know what to say.”

Your guilt overtakes you, “I'm sorry...That I ran from you again. I didn’t want to. I just–”

He shakes his head, the pain of it all visible in his eyes. “You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he says softly, his voice almost a whisper. “I get it. We both know why you did. I just wish…” he trails off, the words caught in his throat.

“I wish things were different,” you finish.

“Yeah,” he sighs heavily, the weight of it all hitting him. “We’ve been wishing that since the day we met,” It hangs in the air for a bittersweet moment before he speaks again. “Maybe in another life.”

“Yeah, maybe so,” you whisper. “But Jake?”

“Yeah, P?” The way he says it, the way he says your name, it feels so intimate.

“We’re still us, right?” you ask, your eyes welling with tears. You hope he doesn’t notice.

He stares at you for a moment, taking everything in. “Yeah, we’re still us.” He responds quietly. There’s a long pause before he speaks again, but his face is filled with so many different emotions. “We’ll always be us.”

A single tear falls down your cheek, “You promise? Forever?”

His heart is breaking, watching that tear fall. He’s desperate to brush it away, but he can’t. He can’t touch you. He can’t hold you. He can’t tell you that it’ll be okay. He just has to watch from afar, wishing for more. “Yes, baby. Forever. I promise.”

You nod your head and swallow down the lump in your throat, finally meeting his eyes again, “Happy New Year, Jake.”

You can tell he is shattered just the same as you are, but he is doing everything he can to keep it together. “Happy New Year, Poppy,” he responds quietly, trying his absolute hardest to steady his voice. “I’m glad you were my midnight kiss.”

“Me too, Jake…” you trail off.

He forces a soft smile, trying desperately to hold on. “I should let you get some rest,” he says quietly, the words making his chin tremble.

You nod, “Yeah, it’s late…”

“Okay,” he whispers, hating every second of this. “You get some sleep.”

“You too,” you murmur.

“I’ll try,” he says, his voice so weak. “Goodnight, my beautiful Poppy.”

Your voice comes out cracked and thick with emotion, “Goodnight, Jake.”

You want so badly to say more. But the lump in your throat is too strong. You stare at him through the screen, trying to memorize every tiny detail in this moment, knowing that this is how things are going to be.

“Bye, love,” he breathes, desperately hoping that you don’t hear the word that slipped out, but you do. The screen goes dark, the call ending as you drop your phone to the bed.

For a minute, you just lie there, staring into the darkness. It just feels so empty without him. The loneliness is almost oppressive, and you need…something. You’re desperate for his touch, for his smell, for anything. You finally sit up, grabbing his shirt that you had pulled off earlier and putting it back on. You crawl under the covers, pulling the shirt over your head.

You curl up to his shirt, pulling it up over your nose and closing your eyes. It feels like if you could just will it hard enough, maybe you’d feel him here, in your bed, holding you. But you can’t, and you know you have to live with the memories of how he felt pressed up against you at the bar, instead. He’s just a few miles away, on the other side of town, in his bed, probably thinking the same goddamn thoughts. And here you are, separated from him, but no less in love with him than you ever were. Your arm is draped over your pillow, your eyes fixed on the wall across from the bed. You’re trying desperately not to cry, but the tears start anyway. You pull his shirt over your eyes, trying to just disappear in it, hoping it will give you just a bit of comfort. But it doesn’t.

You know you have to live with the decision you made, even though it's not what either of you wants. You let yourself cry until you can’t anymore and then you just lie there, in the darkness of your childhood bedroom, holding his shirt like a goddamn lifeline. You’re fighting the sobs that are trying to tear out of your chest.

It just doesn’t make sense. You’ve always been so sure of yourself, and of your life. But right now, the only thing you can be sure of is that you love this man more than you ever thought possible, and you’re going to have to spend the rest of your life knowing that you will never be able to tell him how you really feel about him. How you’ve always felt about him, because though it may be true, it doesn’t change anything. You can’t be together, and that's what hurts the most.

November 10, 2026

Detroit, Michigan

You drop your car keys into the ceramic dish by your front door, the metallic clang echoing through the house. Your coat is dripping with rain, the weather not giving you a single ray of sun the entire day, in fact the forecast even calls for snow. As you hang it on the coat rack you’re sure to fish your phone out of your pocket, still receiving a few sporadic birthday texts here and there.

There’s a text from your parents congratulating you on your milestone birthday, a few messages from friends and of course the obligatory ones from random old classmates you haven’t seen since high school. You’re almost at the bottom of the messages when you’re suddenly hit with a wave of disappointment. You don’t know if you were expecting him to reach out today, but it doesn’t make you feel any less deflated that he hasn’t. Not a call, not a text, no flowers, nothing. Part of you wonders if he’s finally moved on from your friendship, or whatever it was.

Today was a busy day like any other, maybe even busier than usual. You spent most of the day preparing your client in the office for trial next week. It’s everything you’ve ever worked for. You were finally living the life you always dreamed of, but for some reason, you knew something was missing. It felt incomplete.

You drop onto the couch, the heavy November rain against the windows is the only noise in the house. Now that you are finally home, your exhaustion is starting to hit you, and your thirty minute commute in the rain and traffic didn’t help. You reach for the remote on the coffee table and flick the T.V. on. Nothing is really jumping out at you as you browse through the channels so you just leave it on the news, not really bothering to pay attention.

You can’t help but dwell on the fact that you haven’t heard from Jake today. Today of all days is the one you count on each year. Big beautiful poppies always show up at your door when you least expect it, but now at 6:30 with no delivery trucks in sight, you let your heart fall. You lean your head back against your couch, letting your eyes close as you think of all the years you took it for granted. You can’t help but smile when you think about it. How thoughtful he was to send poppies specifically. They always were significant to you, a special moment between you and Jake all those years ago.

You can remember it clear as day. Jake was the first to get his license having a birthday in April, his beat up old sedan now his pride and joy. He insisted he drive you everywhere, to school, to work, everywhere. He just loved the freedom. It was about a month after he got his license when you got a text from him, telling you he wanted to take you somewhere. This wasn’t strange because again, he insisted on driving you everywhere. But this was different, it was early in the morning, and he told you it was a bit of a drive. He gave you no other details, but told you to be ready for him to pick you up in an hour. It was a warm day, dressing yourself in a pair of cut off shorts and a tank top, fastening your hair into a braid as you waited to hear his car pull into your driveway.

The engine of the car was loud, the windows rolled down. Music was blasting from the stereo as you opened the passenger door to the car. He was already turned to face you, a wide grin on his face, “You ready?” he asks, looking you up and down, with a nod you reach for the door handle as he speaks again.“Well, get in, we’ve got a drive ahead of us.”

You spent two whole hours on the road, him not giving you a single clue to where you were going the entire time. You’d never been with him in the car for this long, but there wasn’t a single nerve coursing through you. You were completely at ease, you remember that perfectly. He sang along to every song that came on and you couldn’t help but to stare at him, even then you were totally and utterly in love with him.

When the car started to slow, you saw it. Right there through the passenger side window you saw the biggest field of flowers you’d ever seen. You didn’t even know the place existed. It was stunning, as far as the eye could see, flowers. Thousands of them. Red, yellow, orange, pink, every color you could imagine. Your eyes were filled with wonder, and you looked over at him, his eyes still on the road, but his smile was present.

“I knew you would love this,” he said as he pulled off the main road. He brought the car to a stop and turned to look at you, studying the awestruck look on your face. “Come on,” he said simply, climbing out of the car and walking around to your side to open the door for you.

As you got out you walked along the overgrown pathway towards the field of flowers, the sun shining down harshly on your shoulders as bees buzzed around overhead. “Where are we?” you asked, letting him lead you.

“Fennville,” he smirks, flipping his sunglasses down to his nose.

“How did you know this was here, we are in the middle of nowhere?” you question.

“Heard some people talking about it at Kroger, thought of you.” he answers, rubbing his hand over his mouth.

“Do you know what kind of flowers these are? I’ve never seen them before.”

“Yeah, they’re poppies.” he smiles, snatching one up from the ground and tucking it behind your ear. Your heart swelled at the act and it was right then you had a new favorite flower.

He led you deep into the field, the two of you spending hours exploring and picking the beautiful flowers. He eventually sat down in the middle of the field, lying down to watch the sky, patting the ground next to him for you to join him. You laid next to him, your heads turned to look at one another. You remember exactly how the sun cast his face in the most incredible glow, the flecks of gold in his eyes stood out more than ever, and the freckles that dotted his nose were almost shimmering. Your mind drifts back to how effortlessly you two could just be together. You couldn’t get enough of his attention, and he was never scared to give it to you. You just existed together, comfortably, calmly.

He twirled a beautiful red petaled stem between his fingers as he looked up to the sky, listening to the nature that surrounded the two of you. “You know, these kind of remind me of you.” he says, softly.

“Really?” you breathe, feeling sleepiness take you over as you lounge in the warm sun.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, staring at the flower between his fingers. “They’re not afraid to stand out, to be bold. They grow wild and free and they are just so full of joy. You can’t help but smile when you see them. The rest of the field is so plain, but they fight to get their share of the sun. Just like you.” He looks over at you when you don’t respond. You’re almost asleep, the heat of the sun and the beautiful afternoon sending you into a blissful trance.

You turn to look over at him, he is staring up at the sky, his profile completely visible. You’d never been around anyone who paid such close attention to the little details about you, the thought alone made your heart skip a beat.

“So soft and beautiful,” he continues, letting the stem fall from his fingers and reaching over to lightly lay the flower between the two of you, “and you’re just as unique as these are. They don’t grow everywhere, they’re rare.”

You let his words sink into you, and unbeknownst to him you felt exactly the same way about him. You looked to the field, the poppies dancing hypnotically in the breeze around you, and the colors on their petals almost sparkled in the sunlight. You were surrounded by hundreds of thousands of them, and every single one of them was beautiful.

That was the day your nickname was born, Jake refusing to call you anything else after that. You loved it, it was special, and no one else knew why. They didn’t need to. There was no hiding the flush from your cheeks that day, or the flutter in your heart each time he let it slip out. You couldn’t deny its significance, you were completely lost to the boy that was lying next to you in the field of poppies, and you didn’t know it then, but you always would be.

As beautiful and special as the memory was to you, it also hurt, knowing that today was the first time since that day that he hasn’t sent them to you on your birthday. The memory now feels tainted and forgotten. You pull yourself up from the couch and make your way into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine to try and ease the pain that has suddenly crept up upon you.

You feel the cold air from the open fridge as you pull out a bottle of Pinot Grigio, the neck of the bottle clinks against the edge of the glass as you fill it up more than you should. You move to the counter and lean against it, staring blankly out the kitchen window into your backyard. Darkness has settled in, and you're reminded once again that you are entirely alone with these thoughts. No one to pull you out of your head, no one to whisper sweet nothings to you.

You even tried to make plans with friends tonight, hoping to share a few drinks and laughs to ring in your thirtieth, but each person you asked had plans, or perfectly valid reasons they couldn’t. Families to tend to, and partner work events. If you didn’t feel alone then, you certainly do now. It’s not like the weather was the best either, all around this day was a bust.

You stand in the empty kitchen, surrounded by all the silence and feeling so utterly alone. You lift the glass to your lips and take a heavy swig. You try to shake off the feeling that this might just be the most miserable birthday you've ever had. Unable to stand the silence a moment longer you wander over to your album collection, your fingers searching through the shelf for the one album you know will help soothe the ache inside you. You smile when you see the familiar cover, pulling the vinyl from the sleeve and placing it gently on the turntable. The unmistakable sound of Bad Company begins to play through the speakers as you sit on your couch and drink your wine, wondering where Jake is tonight and if he feels this too.

You stare out the window, watching the rain and now snow fall together, your head starting to feel fuzzy. You drink your wine as you listen to “Weep No More”, wishing that it would numb you in ways that would make the ache disappear, but it doesn’t. It just reminds you of how lonely you are, how lonely you have been for so long. As the guitar solo sounds through the speakers, you lean your head back against the couch and close your eyes.

Next thing you know you find yourself waking on your couch, the record begging to be flipped and your wine glass empty on your coffee table. The rain is still pouring and the clock now reads 8:43. You decide to call it a night, placing your glass in the sink and closing the turntable until next time. You drag yourself upstairs, changing into a pair of pajamas and pulling your hair into a knot at the top of your head. You crawl into your bed, ready for this day to be over and as you turn off the light, the last thought on your mind is Jake. Just like always.

It's hard to fall asleep, your brain just won't shut off. Your mind is still working overtime, memories playing in double time. It's a vicious cycle, and a cycle that you get stuck in every year on your birthday. Each year, one year older but no less sad. You close your eyes tightly, doing the only thing you can do right now which is force yourself to fall asleep. Or try to, at least.

As you start to drift off thunder clatters in the distance and though it’s soothing, it wakes you, causing you to toss and turn. Just as your eyes begin to close, you hear it again, but it sounds strange. A few seconds later you hear it again, and your brain fully wakes as you sit up in your bed. You listen again for the sound, and as you hear it you realize it's not thunder at all, but the sound of someone knocking on your front door.

A bolt of panic runs through you. Who the hell would be at your door at this time of night? You look at your phone, it's almost ten-thirty. No one you know would be stopping by unannounced, and at this hour? You get up, quietly walking from your room, down the stairs and toward the front door. As you get closer, the rain and the knocking both get louder, causing you to grow even more confused as nerves start to gather in your stomach.

You take a deep breath as you gather your courage, twisting the lock and opening the door. The second the door opens, a gust of cool, wet air blows through the house. The rain, now seemingly heavier than before pours onto your front porch step, the sound almost drowning out the sound of your thumping heart. You peer through the dark, rain drenched night and you swear your heart stops at the sight. Your mind can hardly comprehend what you’re seeing.

In the dark, with rain pouring down around him, you see Jake. In jeans, a t-shirt and a very drenched leather jacket, holding the largest bouquet of multi-colored poppies you’ve ever seen, petals heavy with rain.

“Poppy?” he says. He's breathing hard and he looks incredibly panicked. You again notice the bouquet in his trembling hand and your brain starts to piece the situation together.

“Jake? What’re you–”

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I was supposed to be here hours ago, but there was a wreck once I hit 75, and then the traffic–” he says, water dripping from the end of his nose as he talks.

A wave of shock washes over you at the fact he's really here. Right here at your doorstep no less. “Oh my god– Come inside!” you urge, seeing his cold, wet body start to shake.

He nods his head and starts to shake the water off of himself like a dog as he steps into your house. His hair is sopping wet, and the way his shirt clings to his chest…well, you’re trying to push down that thought. He looks like he’s barely holding it together. As soon as you shut the door behind him he holds out the bouquet, wanting you to grab it. “Happy Birthday, Pops, sorry they’re late.”

Your heart shatters. Of course he didn't forget. “Jake...Thank you...But– You're here, in Detroit, what are you–”

“It’s your birthday, Pops,” His voice is shaky and his body is shivering slightly. He's soaking wet and he's going to get sick if he stands here in those wet clothes any longer. So, you reach out and take his hand, tugging him with you as you walk toward your living room. He follows you in and stands awkwardly next to the couch as you turn to face him. You can’t take your eyes off of him, and you notice the look in his eyes is off, like your presence has him hypnotized. You notice his eyes move up and down your body, taking in your pajamas.

You quickly look down at yourself, feeling slightly self conscious and he instantly notices. He shakes his head as if reading your mind. “No, don’t. You look perfect to me.”

You feel bashful, and unsure of what to say, so instead you rush to the bathroom to grab a towel for him to start drying himself off.

“Thank you.” he mumbles and takes the towel from you, trying to dry his face and hair. You watch as he rubs the towel over his head, his shirt comes off his body and you're almost knocked backward. There were a few times throughout the years you'd see him shirtless but, my god, did he look good now. You're trying to take little glances, hoping he's too busy drying off to notice.

“Jake, don’t think that I don’t want you here, but…Normally you just…send the flowers. I can’t believe you drove eight hours to deliver them, in this weather no less…” you question, crossing your arms across your braless chest.

He stops drying his hair and stares at you. You can see the look in his eyes. It’s intense, and it’s not just because he’s freezing. He’s trying to read you, he’s searching for something. He stands there, in his wet jeans, with only a towel thrown over his shoulders. He is looking at you intensely, and your heart starts to pound in your chest.

He bites his lip, and his eyes dart down your body for a split second. He swallows and continues to dry his hair, the air around you suddenly feeling much heavier. He looks you in your eyes. “The flowers didn’t feel like enough this year.”

“Jake, they are always enough. They are more than enough,” you whine.

He drops the towel to his side, the damp strands of hair clinging to his face. You see his chest rising and falling, trying to steady his breathing, but he seems to be failing. He walks towards you and you back up until you are pressed against the wall. He gets in so close you can feel his body heat, and he gently reaches up to take your chin into his hand. His fingers are still cold, and the feeling of them on your skin almost burns. His voice is rough as he looks at you deeply, he’s searching every inch of your face. “No. I couldn’t let you be alone, to sit there all night long with a glass of wine in your hand, just staring at the flowers. Not this year, Pops. This year is different.”

“Different?” you breathe.

“It's your thirtieth birthday, Poppy.” he smirks.

“Yeah?” you answer, still not on the same train of thought he seems to be on.

He takes a deep breath, and you can see the nervous look come over his face again. His eyes flick down to the floor, his cheeks start to get red. He can’t look at you. This entire thing is so incredibly intense, and you can feel the anticipation in the air. He takes a deep breath and then lets his eyes meet yours.

“You know, I have traveled all over the world. I have seen people and places so beautiful your mind can hardly comprehend it. I’ve seen waterfalls and caverns, and cliffs and fields so big and vast you feel small compared to them. What I’m saying is that, I’ve been to so many places and seen so many beautiful things, but none of them, nothing, compares to you.”

You blink at him, awestruck by his words. “Jake…”

He doesn’t give you a second to speak. He’s nervous and he’s scared, and all of this is coming out unfiltered. “I mean it, I’ve been to so many gorgeous places, I’ve met so many people and nothing has captivated me the way you do. I have searched the whole damn world, and everywhere I looked, I was looking for you. Always looking for you, thinking about you.”

You don’t even know what to say. Just two hours ago you were laying in your bed missing him, and now hes here, in front of you spilling his soul.

“I could go to the edge of the ocean and see the beauty of the sunrise, but it’s nothing compared to the way your eyes light up when you laugh. No matter where I go, or how many new things I see, I can tell you that there isn’t another you. You’re rare. You’re my one in a million, wild and free Poppy. I’d give up every single thing I have to wake up next to you in that poppy field again, just to be next to my girl. Just me and you.”

Your lips part to speak but he’s not done.

“It's been twelve years since that night in my basement. Twelve years that I have thought of you day in and day out. I know that at the time you probably didn't mean it. Who really means anything they say when they're eighteen?” he laughs. “The thing is, I did. I did mean it Pops. You're all I’ve ever wanted, so much so that I signed the back of a gas station receipt to prove it.” he says, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. He reaches inside and pulls out a well worn, tattered and wrinkled receipt, barely hanging on to life. Signed on the back with both of your names. Your heart lurches in your chest as your fingers grab the delicate paper from him.

He rubs his hand over his mouth, trying to find the courage to keep going. “And I still mean it today, Poppy. Twelve years later, and I still feel it, I still feel everything…for you.” His eyes don’t break from yours, and you can feel all the walls he’s put up starting to come crumbling down. You can see that he’s terrified, but he’s fighting to keep those emotions tucked away. “I’m ready to make good on that pact, Y/N. I never forgot. Not for a second.”

You look at the receipt in your hands, seeing the words scribbled down so carelessly, promising yourselves to each other at age thirty. Your names are still there, though the pen is faded. You hadn’t thought about that night since it happened, and seeing this has flooded your mind with the memory. The night you kissed him for the first time. “I can’t believe you still have this.”

“Of course I do,” he says, his voice shaking. “It’s the only thing that has kept me going. How do you think I got through all these years?” His eyes are still locked on yours, he is trying so goddamn hard to keep everything inside him. He’s fighting the tears that are attempting to come, “Every time I thought time was up, every time it looked like we wouldn’t make it, that this thing we have was hopeless…I’ve had that piece of paper. It was something to hold on to...” his voice drifts off, his eyes are watering now. “A piece of you when I couldn’t have the real thing.”

You see his eyes fill with tears, and you can’t take it anymore. You reach out to him, your hand touches his stubbly cheek. You wipe his tears away with your thumb. You’re not even sure what to say right now or what to do, just that you need to touch him. He reaches up and grabs your hand, holding it against his face, desperate for your touch.

The walls are coming down, he can no longer hold back. “God…you have no idea, no idea at all the hold you’ve had on me, Poppy. You don’t understand how much I’ve loved you for so long. You know how much I still do. Even if I never said it, even if I didn’t fight for it…I still kept loving you, more and more with every single day. You were always there, in my heart, in my mind. For twelve years, shit, longer than that, you’ve been my everything.”

Love. He loves you. He’s always loved you.

“Jake, I lo–”

He pulls your hand from his cheek, resting your fingers on his mouth as he slides them across his lips, taking in the feeling of you. Then, his eyes meet yours again. “And listen, I don’t even know if you have a boyfriend, or– or if you’re seeing anyone…I never let myself look, but I’m here, I have time, and I want this Poppy. I want you. I want to do this. It’s finally time for us.”

This feels like you’re in a dream. You’re watching some fantasy of yours unfold right in front of you. You would be convinced that this isn’t really happening, if it weren’t for your hand still against his lips. Your heart aches, and you feel like maybe it’s too good to be true. The man you’ve been in love with since you were young, the man who keeps you awake at night, is telling you what you’ve dreamed of.

“Jake, you– you want to be… with me? Like…that?”

“Of course I do,” he says, his voice cracking, “I’ve wanted it forever. I wish I could go back and change things all those years ago….I wish we could have just been together the whole time. But right now…I just need you to hear me when I say that I want you, I’ve always wanted you. I’ve only held on and I’ve only pushed through for you. Everything I’m doing is for you. For us. You’re my girl, Pops. I’m ready to make it official.”

You feel your own eyes starting to well with tears, the words coming from his lips are everything you’ve ever wanted. The part of your life that has felt so incomplete has suddenly vanished from the second you opened your front door. It’s him, it’s always been him, and now he’s here, asking you to be with him in the way you planned all those years ago.

“I won’t promise you that it’ll be easy. This isn’t going to be pretty. We’re not kids anymore. We’re not those two dumb teenagers who made a promise on a piece of paper not knowing what life had in store for them. We’re in the real world now, and it’s messy. It's hard. We both have demanding jobs and work long, tiring hours, but I know we can do this. I want to do this. With you. No one else.” he whispers as he rubs your cheek with the back of his fingers, his knuckles dragging along your skin like he’s trying to absorb the feeling of you.

“But– Married? That seems like a big leap,” you breathe.

His mind drifts for a moment as he tries to put together the words. “Is it a big leap? I don't think it is. If you think about how long I've loved you, the idea of us being together, it's not too soon. I've waited twelve years to be here with you. I've taken every single step just to get to this moment, and now I know, even through all the bullshit, there's no one else for me. I want to be married to you.”

“It just– it seems scary,” you whisper, feeling his hand wrap around your waist.

He steps even closer, his hand wrapping around you and pulling you against him. His damp chest pressed to your thin tank top. You can hear the sound of his breathing, and feel his hands as they roam gently over your body. “It is scary, it’s terrifying. Being without you is scary, and the idea of me losing you completely scares me the most. But, what if we just try? What if we stop running and just try?”

Your eyes meet his as his thumb rubs small circles on your lower back.

He leans forward ever so slightly, closing the distance even more between your bodies, like he’s pulled into your gravity. A faint noise escapes his lips as he breathes against your mouth. “Sometimes you just have to jump and trust that the net will appear.”

It’s as if your breath has been stolen from your lungs, “I–”

He’s so close, all you can see is the gold flecks in his eyes. His lips skim across your cheek, your skin is on fire. You can feel the air from his nose brush against your face, his hand around your waist is holding you so close. His touch is lighting you up inside like fire, you’re completely hypnotized by him.

“I want to do this, Y/N. I have a long time off, and I want to spend it with you, making this work. I love you Poppy. I’ve loved you forever. We can do this. Say yes. Say yes to this, Poppy.”

“You’re sure about this?” you breathe, letting your lips brush his.

“Every nerve in my body is telling me this is right. I know in my soul that this is it. It’s you, it’s only ever been you….” he whispers, his hand slides from your waist to the small of your back, pulling your body into him as his mouth ghosts over yours. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me like I want you, P.”

“I want you, Jake. I always have.” you confess, cupping his cheek with your hand. His face falls into your touch as he groans with relief.

“Do you love me?” he asks, his tone vulnerable and pleading.

“Yes. I do. You know I do. I’ve loved you since the day I met you,” you answer, brushing your thumb under his eye.

He breathes against your palm, your name murmured out in a soft whimper. “Say yes, Poppy. Be mine. Marry me.”

There’s no hesitation, no second guessing. You know this isn’t some fairytale that you’re going to wake from. The only man you’ve ever loved, the one man you’ve dreamed of for years is standing in front of you asking you to marry him.

“Yes.” The word falls from your mouth so easily, it's as if you haven’t even thought it through. This could be the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done.

Your heart is pounding, the word feeling so final on your tongue.

And as you look at him, you have no idea what the future will hold, but what you do know is that he’ll be in it, and that’s all you’ve ever wanted.

But… this was Jake. You needed to be fully honest with him.

Your present, real life wasn’t going away. There was a crafted reality that didn’t involve him, in ways you didn’t care to address at this moment.

Though, you couldn’t lie to him. You had to tell him. There was one issue. It wasn’t so drastic that it could get in the way of this for you two, per se. It just seemed wrong to go through with what you felt was about to happen, without informing him of your current situation.

But, logic was escaping you quickly.

As soon as he was leaning in to kiss you, his lips so full and soft, you lost the ability to rationally think. Any thought besides Jake Kiszka himself was far and fleeting from your mind.

Tonight was meant for you two.

Right now, this could be it. All you had to worry about was right now. At this moment, you could venture into a universe where things seamlessly fall into place. Just like you always wanted.

A little secret kept from him in this moment was the least important thing to you as you felt his lips finally brush against yours, his mustache tickling your upper lip.

The harsh beating of your heart calmed as soon as you felt his lips touch yours.

Tonight was tonight.

Tomorrow’s reality could set in just as soon as you felt him like this, the way you've always dreamed of— even if only this once.

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