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moonheecore · 5 days ago

Text

Oops, Juno? — sjy (m)

Pairing: Boyfriend! Jake X Afab! Reader

Genre: Smut🔞 (Minors DNI), fluff, slight angst, college AU, established relationship

Warnings: Soft Dom! Jake, protected & unprotected sex, baby daddy Jake, condom tempering (not by Jake), toxic mother trope, abortion mentioned, frat parties, multiple orgasm, oral (f. receiving), dirty talking, breeding kink, pregnancy sex, slight lactation kink, cream pie, squirting, body worship, body changes during pregnancy mentioned, slight degradation but mostly praising, hopefully I didn’t miss out anything else.

Summary: Getting accidentally pregnant was the last thing you ever imagined. You were still in school, with so many plans for the future ahead of you. Yet, you felt certain that keeping the baby was the decision you wanted to make. What would your aloof mother think? and, perhaps most importantly, you wonder if Jake would feel the same way?

a/n: obviously, this fic was inspired by Sabrina’s song but my friend recently showed me this cute movie called Look Both Ways, which I took heavy inspiration from as well. So enjoy baby daddy Jake! Please reblog and leave comments— not just likes!

Main masterlist

Word count: 16k

The bass of the music from downstairs were only a faint echo in your mind, the party a mere distraction compare to what you and your boyfriend were about to do in the frat house's microscopic bathroom.

Everything in your spatial consciousness was spinning in the best way possible. You were in that sweet spot of being drunk from the shots of tequila, yet sober enough to feel the highs of Jake’s lips pressing messily against yours.

He had your back arched against the sink, his body pressed so close to yours that you couldn’t help but melt under his overpowering presence. You moaned loudly into his mouth as his sinful tongue slipped past your parted lips, the deep kiss becoming desperate and full of lust.

The warmth of his mouth and the taste of him, mixed with the bitter spirits, sent your heart racing. His large hands soon glided along the underside of your thighs, slipping beneath the fabric of your skirt to grope the soft flesh of your ass. You tug at the soft strands of his hair tangled between your fingers, leaving his freshly permed curls disheveled.

"Fuck, miss you so much." He moaned, plump lips not even taking a second's break from sucking on your saliva coated lips. "How the hell did I survive without having my dick in you for so long.”

You giggled at his cuteness, pulling back slightly to give him a peck on the nose. “It’s only been one week, Jake, not forever.”

“Feels like forever,” He whined, burying his face in the crook of your neck to inhale your sweet scent. You let out a soft sigh as he started kissing your skin, leaving a trail of sloppy nibbles and licks that were sure to turn into prominent hickeys by the next day.

"But you know what I look forward to?" he sighed, mouthing at your delicate pulse as you crumbled with every lingering suck he left on your skin. You let out a soft hum, signaling you were listening, but were caught off guard when he suddenly hooked his arms under your knees and lifted you to sit on the slightly damp sink.

The new position allowed your legs to wrap around his waist, your hands threading around his neck as your fingers tangled in the soft hair at his nape. He was perfectly slotted between your thighs, giving him the freedom to shamelessly roll his hips into your core. Your eyes fluttered closed, and soft, whiny moans escaped you as you felt his hard on rubbing against your dripping center.

Jake looked at you, eyes hooded with lust, pupils blown out wide, and that signature smirk playing on his lips.

“Feeling just how tight your little pussy will be around my cock.”

Just the sound of his sultry accent was enough to make you moan with desire, your lips crashing back into his in a clumsy, heated embrace. The two of you exchanged thick globs of saliva, noses brushing as you breathed each other’s air like it was oxygen. Your skirt rode up as he flipped it to reach the hem of your lace panties, tugging at the fabric haphazardly until they slid down to your knees, exposing your dripping core. Meanwhile, you hurriedly worked to unbuckle his belt, letting his pants and briefs fall to his ankles.

“Jake,” You gasped, pulling away to catch your breath, your lips bruised and swollen. “Just fuck me right now— I can’t wait any longer.”

“No prep?" Jake rested his forehead against yours, a slight hint of worry flickering in his eyes. "Are you sure?" As much as he wanted to feel your walls engulf him with as little space as possible, the thought of hurting you gnawed at him, despite how horny and drunk he was.

“Jakey, please, need you to fuck me hard until I’m loose.”

You gave him that needy look— the one with that wild, almost unhinged glint in your eyes that he knew all too well. It was the same look that reminded him why he wanted to fuck you forever, burying himself inside you and staying there until the world fell apart. The heat of your words drew a deep, guttural growl from him, a sound filled with raw need, frustration, and the kind of bliss only you could give him.

"Condom, inside my chest pocket, now."

You didn’t hesitate as you reached for a condom from his jacket. Jake’s husky voice casting a spell that sent heat straight to your core, thickening the air with anticipation and arousal. The sharp sound of the plastic tearing open sent a thrill through your body, amplifying the intensity of the moment. Jake was just as eager, stroking his hard, leaking cock in preparation as you carefully rolled the condom down his length.

"Fuck, you're dripping, baby" Jake gripped your hips firmly, his other hand guiding the base of his cock as he teasingly circled the tip against your gaping hole. A gush of arousal soaked your folds, running down your inner thighs, and Jake had to bite his lip at how beautifully drenched you looked. "So fucking wet for me."

You let out a sharp gasp as he pressed his swollen head past your entrance, followed by a loud moan when he buried his entire cock inside you in one swift motion, not giving you a moment to adjust to the intrusion. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, and your legs wrapped tightly around his waist to steady yourself. Your walls burned from the tight stretch, stinging with the fullness of his girth. Yet, you couldn’t help but buck your hips, the mix of pain and pleasure surging through your veins.

Jake began to pace himself once he bottomed out fully inside you, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wider to give himself more room to thrust in and out with ease.

“Pussy’s so fucking tight,” he groaned, wincing at the vice-like grip your gummy walls had on him. Jake was losing his mind at how your dripping cunt fought to keep him inside, gripping him so hard he could barely move. Yet, the friction created as he forced himself out and slammed back in felt deliciously sublime, prompting him to increase the speed of his hips as he chased every bit of pleasure like a madman.

“Gonna make you remember the shape of my cock, right, baby?” he asked, letting out a soft measured laugh at your fucked-out expression.

The space between your eyebrows scrunched up each time his fat tip hit the deepest parts of your insides, and the back of your head repeatedly thudded against the mirror with the force of his thrusts. You couldn’t help but let out a strangled sound as his cock filled you completely with overwhelming pleasure. The drag of his delicious veins against your tender walls made your tongue slip out, caught in a haze of ecstasy that intensified the throbbing pressure in your stomach.

“Shit, you’re so cute when you can’t think straight, doll,” He cooed, sinking precisely into your sensitive cervix for what felt like the millionth time that night, just to hear how wet you were. The loud squelching of your juices echoed through the bathroom, and you were certain Jake was reveling in the wet, messy heat of it all.

"So fucking sexy like this." His fingernails dug into the plush of your thighs, holding you still as he pounded into you. Jake pressed a kiss by your ear, groaning, his voice a husky whisper as his thumb sneaked between your bodies to rub your aching clit. "Makes me wanna ruin you 'til you can't close your legs like a slut."

His reckless touch on your swollen pearl sent jolts of pleasure through you, your body trembling as the impending release built up inside you. Your stomach tightened, a surge of ecstasy rising so intensely it felt like you were on the verge of exploding, his cock reaching so deep that you can feel him in your lungs—

"J-Jake!" His name spilled from your lips, trembling and edged with agony from the overwhelming pleasure. "I'm so close, fuck, I—I’m gonna cum."

"I know, baby," Jake gritted out, teeth clenched as your walls squeezed and throbbed around him erratically. He knew you were close, especially with the way your hands tugged at his damp hair and your head shook vigorously as he continued to tease your clit with expert precision.

"Come for me, that’s it, beautiful—"

You felt the familiar blinding lights taking over your vision as you came undone on his cock within seconds. Jake didn’t stop bucking his hips while your body slumped heavily against the sink before finally stilling with one last hard thrust. His eyebrows furrowed, and his lips uttered curses aloud as it became increasingly wet, sloppy, and messy between your legs. There was so little room between your bodies that his balls were practically suction-cupping themselves to your ass, filling the condom with his creamy release.

Jake rested his forehead against yours, both of you panting heavily into the small space between you. Your mouths hovered just an inch apart, breathing hard from the intensity, while the air around you thickened, heavy with the humid scent of sex and sweat.

As the fog in your mind started to clear and your heartbeat slowed enough for you to catch your breath, Jake pulled his cock out of you, rolling off the used condom and tying it before tossing it aside. But your gaze lingered on him— his chest heaving, his eyes dark with lingering arousal, and his wet cock still hard against his abdomen.

"Fucking hell," Jake cursed, desperation thick in his voice as he cupped your jaw, his eyes pleading for your attention. His other hand brushed back the damp strands of hair clinging to your skin. "I need to fuck you again, baby, please. I'm so fucking horny for you." There was pain hinted at the edge of his tongue, his pleading gaze ignited something primal within you. You were both exhausted, yet the sheer need in his eyes made it impossible to resist.

Ignoring the tremor in your legs, you let Jake manhandle you, spinning you around and bending you over the sink. You caught a glimpse of your reflection, your hair and makeup in disarray, while Jake hastily put on another condom. It was the first time he had ever asked for a second round, and the sheer need in your body triggered a craving to feel his cock stretching you again, yearning to experience every inch of him filling you up once more.

He bunched your skirt up, rocking his head against your entrance before pushing his entire cock inside you with little resistance. You relaxed your walls to welcome him wholeheartedly, and both of you let out satisfying moans in unison. Jake didn’t miss a beat, immediately thrusting at an ungodly pace, his hands gripping your hips tightly enough for you to feel the sting of his hold. You felt a slight pinch of pain from his roughness, yet it only added to the pleasure that began to build, to the point where you started to lose track of where you began and he ended.

“Such a good girl for me.” Jake swore he was fucking in love with the way you pushed your hips back to meet his thrusts, watching your jiggling ass bounce with every collision of flesh against his abdomen. “Could fuck this pretty pussy every second, and I still wouldn’t get enough of it.”

You choked back your tears and saliva as Jake tangled his fingers in your hair, roughly pulling you back and forcing your spine to arch. The new angle allowed him to strike your cervix relentlessly, making you scream in pleasure, loud enough that the entire party probably knew you were having sex at this point. You glanced at his reflection, his head thrown back as he moaned and hissed every time you squeezed your walls around his sensitive length deliciously.

The pressure in your stomach teetered on the edge, your clit throbbing madly as Jake split you open relentlessly, leaving you feeling like a ragdoll, surrendering to his every desire. The stimulation was so intense that you could taste your second release on the tip of your tongue. But this one was different from the first— far more intense. It struck you that you were on the brink of squirting from sheer overstimulation.

"C-Can't take it anymore—" you gasp, desperately clawing at the smooth surface of the sink for leverage. "Need you to fill me up and make me full.”

That was all it took for your boyfriend to feel outmatched, pushing him over the edge and making him fully commit to ravishing you to your core. Like a switch flipping, Jake shifted, bending one of your legs onto the counter as he planted his foot firmly on the tiled floor, mounting your lower half and stretching your pussy mercilessly. The force had your chest pressed flat against the surface as you gasped for air.

“Gotta fill you up, little slut,” he taunted right in your ear, but his voice faltered as he neared his own high, using his words to push both of you closer to the edge. “I’d fuck you full of my cum, get it so deep inside you, baby, you won’t even be able to squeeze all of me out.”

Jake smirk haughtily as all you could do was to reach back and pull his thighs closer as he fucked you like his personal flashlight.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? Love it when a part of me's swimming inside you.” At this moment, Jake was practically spouting dirty thoughts off the top of his head, biting his lip to suppress an almost whiny moan, holding on to his high just a little longer to let you drown in yours first.

Your response was reduced to fucked-out babbling, making Jake almost chuckle at how ethereal you looked breaking apart because of his cock. In the back of your foggy mind, you wished the barrier of the latex condom would disappear, imagining how raw and textured he’d feel stroking every inch of your walls.

Just the thought of that sent you spiraling over the edge, the once heated sensation bursting like millions of butterflies in your stomach as waves of pleasure constricted your throat. Jake looked down to see your sweet juices pouring between your legs, drenching his thighs and the floor below as you hit your second orgasm in complete bliss.

Burying his face in your hair, Jake’s frame lurched greedily, releasing himself right after you. He choked out groans after groans, emptying ropes of hot cum into the condom. It didn’t take long for him to finish, relishing the solace of the afterglow, yet he stayed wrapped around you from behind, shielding you before you could collapse in exhaustion.

"Good job, sweetheart. Just like that, I've got you, baby girl."

Jake could say the filthiest and meanness things during sex, but moments like this made you appreciate the beautiful juxtaposition of it all— a perfect balance of wild and soft.

"You did so well, baby. I'm so proud of my pretty girl. Always so good for me."

He kissed the side your forehead, showering you with honey-coated compliments as you rested your head in your hands in complete surrender, softly sobbing at how wrecked you felt after such intense pleasure. Everything felt perfect and warm as he let you catch your breath and calm your nerves, his hands gently squeezing your thighs for comfort. Before long, the party's music filtered back into the room, and the muffled sounds of others laughing drunkenly passed through the hallway behind the closed door, signaling that you both were beginning to regain your bearings and clean up the mess you’ve made.

“What are you smiling at?” you shot him a side-eye from the mirror as you fixed your mascara, catching Jake leaning against the sink, arms crossed, watching you with complete bliss and biting his lip to hold back a grin. You both knew it would be tough to rejoin your friends without looking like you’d just had mind-blowing sex. Then again, your social circle was all too familiar with you and Jake disappearing suddenly—it was no secret what the two of you had been up to.

“Jake, seriously, you’re starting to creep me out,” you added, eyeing him suspiciously as his grin widened.

"Hmm, I don't know," Jake mused, sighing contentedly as he lazily wrapped his arms around your waist, resting the bridge of his nose on your shoulder to bask in your scent. The soft light illuminated his face, making his eyes glimmer like you were the center of his world. "I think I need to make you squirt more often, because that was so fucking hot."

You let out a scoff. “Yeah, maybe its because you won’t stop running your mouth about your freaky breeding kink on me,” You teased, playfully rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the blush creeping up your cheeks.

“C'mere, baby, let me put a baby in you.” Jake leaned in with a mock pout, pulling you closer into his side. His tone dripped with sarcasm as he lowered his voice to an exaggerated sultry whisper.

"Eww, Jake, stop it!" You shoved his face, feigning annoyance but laughing at how ridiculous he was.

The genuine laughter you shared made the moment feel pure and carefree, a blissful innocence that you cherished with Jake. It was almost naive, as if you were both untouched by the weight of the world. Looking back, those playful words were more than just a joke— they were a subtle hint of the storm brewing, the harsh reality that fate had quietly set in motion.

You felt like your whole world was turning upside down, and it wasn’t just figuratively— it was literal. The familiar burn of nausea crept up your throat, your stomach twisting as the astringent taste started to rise up to your esophagus, making everything spin.

Two red lines stared back at you, the cause of it all. The first test brought denial, the second was to make sure, and the third was acceptance— gripped by absolute shock as the reality set in.

You were definitely pregnant.

This had to be a bad dream, right? So why weren’t you waking up from this nightmare that was becoming your reality? You sat on the toilet for what felt like forever, tears blurring your vision as your blood ran cold, leaving you physically trembling. Just as you were on the verge of spiraling, teetering on the edge of losing it, you summoned the last bit of strength you had left and reached for your phone to call your best friend.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Lena stammered at the other line of the call, obviously shocked by the sudden news. “I mean, it could be a faulty test, right? It happens all the time. Maybe you just took it too early, or—” She trailed off, grasping for any reason to make sense of situation.

“I took three tests, Lena. All of them were positive. I've been throwing up all day,” You cut her off, managing to say the words with surprising calmness. “…and I didn’t get my period last month.”

That last sentence dropped like a bombshell in the conversation, heavy and palpable. You found yourself staring at the tiles on the floor, feeling your heartbeat pounding in your throat.

"My mom's gonna kill me," You confessed, sniffling as tears pooled down your cheeks.

"Then she'll have to walk over my dead body to get to you,"

You let out a shaky laugh, tears still streaming down your eyes as your best friend's fierce protectiveness washed over you like a safety net.

Since sophomore year, she had been your unwavering rock, and sharing a room had forged an unbreakable bond between you two. You had witnessed each other’s tears, shared countless laughter-filled nights, and navigated through the chaos of sleepless mornings. In that moment, you realized how deep your connection truly ran, and how you would always stand by each other— no matter the challenges that lay ahead.

"You're at your mom's for the weekend, right?" Lena asked, her voice laced with concern. "Did she say anything?"

You shook your head, wiping away the streaks of tears. "No, she's out with her friends. I told her I had a stomach bug, so she just left me alone." The lie tasted bitter, but you couldn't bring yourself to face the truth with her yet.

You'd never had a great relationship with your mother.

Since childhood, her overbearing nature always overshadowed any sense of nurture. To outsiders, she might have seemed strict, but to you, she was much more than that. Your relationship felt like a façade— one-sided and suffocating. She controlled every detail of your life: the school you attended, the friends you made, the choices you had— all under the guise of it being for your own good.

It was isolating, exhausting, but how could you have known any different?

That was the only kind of 'love' you'd ever experienced from her.

As a woman, you understood her fear— that she didn’t want you to end up like her, a single mother struggling to make ends meet. But as a daughter, you felt lost, torn between resentment and attachment. Despite everything, a part of you still craved her approval, even after all these years, no matter how insecure she made you feel.

The memories came crashing down all at once, drowning your mind with an intensity that you couldn’t ignore. Layer by layer, the real emotion beneath it all surfaced, raw and exposed, stripping away every defense you’d built.

"Lena," you whispered, your voice barely audible, a fragile plea that echoed through the cold, empty bathroom of your mother’s house.

"I'm so fucking scared."

You heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the call, realizing you might have overburdened Lena with such heavy responsibility. Then came the small sniffles, and your heart ached for her. Lena had always been the strong one between the two of you— the sensible one who didn’t let emotions or opinions sway her. But when it came to you, she never hesitated to show her vulnerability.

"Y/N, I'm here for you," Lena's voice was steady, a lifeline in the chaos. "If the odds are against you every step of the way, just know I'll always be there. You're stronger than you think, whether you believe it or not. We'll get through this, okay? Believe it."

The fear slowly dissipated from your body. It was still there, lingering in the background, but the relief of having an anchor, someone to hold you steady, eased some of the weight. It didn’t mean everything would be fine, but at least you weren’t facing it alone.

“Are you planning to tell Jake about the pregnancy?"

You leaned back, feeling the weight of yet another hurdle coming your way.

Oddly enough, you weren’t as stressed about telling Jake as you thought you would be. You knew, without a doubt, the baby was his. It had always been him, from the very beginning until now. No matter the circumstances, you both always used protection, and it made the situation feel unfair, frustrating even, that this was happening despite being so careful.

"I'll have to tell him, won't I?" You bit the inside of your cheek, fingers raking through your hair as the weight of the decision settled in. From the other end, you heard Lena hum softly, offering silent support. "It makes me feel guilty, keeping it from him," you continued, your voice softer now. "He deserves to know too."

"If that's your decision, Y/N, then I'm all for it," Lena's voice was like a lifeline, and you found yourself nodding along, feeling a small sense of relief.

"We’ll talk more when you're back. For now, rest up and eat something, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed softly. "Thank you, Lena. I love you."

"I love you too, babe."

As the call ended, silence filled the bathroom, the weight of everything crashing back down. You stood up slowly, shoving the pregnancy test into your pocket before heading to the sink. The cold water felt like a shock to your system as you splashed it on your face, trying to freshen up, trying to calm the storm inside. Your mom would be home any minute, and you needed to pull yourself together before you faced her.

But as you glanced at the mirror, you froze. Taking a step back, you caught your full reflection. Your hand instinctively drifted to your stomach, resting there, your eyes fixated on that part of your body as if it held something fragile, something precious.

Without hesitation, you had already made up your mind.

The decision was clear, solidified in your heart. Now, it was only a matter of telling the people around you— facing them head-on, no matter the reactions, no matter the consequences thrown at you. You knew what you wanted, and nothing could change that. The hardest part was yet to come, but you were ready. Or at least, you had to be, for the sake of the baby.

You and Lena stood on the front porch of the frat house, the thumping bass of the music vibrating through the ground, colorful lights flashing from the windows. A group of guys passed by, carrying crates of booze, laughing and shoving each other as they rushed inside. This was just another typical Friday night, the same parties you'd been to countless times before.

But this time, it was different.

What once felt thrilling now felt heavy. It had only been three days since you found out you were pregnant, and now it was finally time to tell Jake the truth. Breaking the news during a party wasn’t ideal, but with exam season looming just a few weeks away, he had been buried in his studies and packed schedules. Before you left to visit your mother, you had promised him you would meet him at the party his frat brothers were hosting. You wanted to tell him sooner rather than later, feeling the weight of the secret pressing down on you.

“Ready?” Lena asked, pulling you from your thoughts. You nodded, even though your mind was far from prepared. Still, your body moved forward, stepping into the house with a single intention in mind.

As always, the frat party was a chaotic mess— a dumpster fire than anything resembling fun.

People spilled out into the backyard, filling every corner with shouts of excitement and laughter. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, spilled beer, and a faint haze of smoke. You maneuvered through clusters of people, dodging arms flailing from overenthusiastic dancers, while a group of guys at the far end chanted loudly, egging on someone attempting to chug down a towering concoction that was far too much for any person to handle.

Lena had already left to meet your other flat mates, Ningning, who were somewhere in the mayhem as well. She had insisted on staying with you, but you reassured her that you needed to do this on your own. She gave you an encouraging smile, though it was strained with concern, mouthing “good luck” before vanishing into the crowd.

You scanned the room quickly, eyes darting in hopes of catching a glimpse of your boyfriend in the crowd, but he was nowhere in sight. Giving up, you headed towards the dim hallway leading to the back rooms, where you spotted Sunghoon and Jay leaning casually against the wall, deep in conversation with red cups in hand. Their eyes lit up when they saw you approaching.

You shoot them a small smile. “Hey guys, have you seen Jake in this mess?"

Jay raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on his chest to feign offense. “I’m gonna ignore how rude that sounded, 'cause you’re looking at the mastermind of it all,” he joked, causing you to laugh when you saw Sunghoon rolling his eyes at his friend.

“He went to grab more drinks for the beer pong game later,” Sunghoon chimed in, loud enough over the music, nodding toward the kitchen. “You might find him there.”

You thanked them and made your way toward the kitchen, grateful for the chance to escape the chaos of the main party. The noise dulled slightly as you reached the quieter part of the house, the kitchen door slightly ajar. Fewer people lingered here, just a couple of others milling around, chatting quietly. It was a breather from the overwhelming energy outside— an oasis of calm amidst the havoc.

You spotted your boyfriend's figure from afar, wearing the familiar denim jacket he always lent you over one of his hoodies— the same ones you were sure you'd 'stolen' and given back a dozen times. He was crouched down by the huge fridge, hauling out what you assumed to be chilled alcohol for the game later. You carefully approached him from behind.

“I swear to God, if you're here to yap at me for being slow—”

“I thought you liked it when I yap and you listen,” You mused, snickering as he let out a surprised “What the fuck!” and almost hit his head on the top of the fridge.

He stood up with a playful grin once he recognizes your voice, the corners of his smile stretching so wide that his cheekbones popped out. His eyes glinted under the dim kitchen light before he swooped you off your feet, wrapping you in a tight hug.

You never knew how much you needed his embrace until you felt it.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of fresh laundry and the warmth of summer sunlight. His hands held your almost fragile frame gently— one arm wrapped around your waist, while the other ran softly through your hair. The tenderness, laced with a sense of quiet possessiveness, made you melt instantly. His laughter rang like music in your ears, almost pulling you out of the moment, reminding you that soon you’d have to tell him you were pregnant. The thought made you cling to him tighter before he could pull away and break the hug.

"Sorry, I thought you were Jay just now," he apologies with a chuckle, closing the fridge door.

You pulled back, “Jay? Wow, I knew I was second place, but didn’t think I’d lose out to him.”

“Please, don’t.” He scrunched up his nose in disgust, letting out an exasperated sigh. ��He’s been at my ass all day, and I don’t want him ruining our time tonight, yeah?” Leaning down, he pressed a loving peck to your lips, his eyes sparkling with affection.

You hummed softly in response, a smile creeping onto your face, but inside, a twinge of guilt gnawed at you. You were about to drop a bombshell that could change everything, and the thought made your heart race. “I get it. Just focus on having fun tonight,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light despite the weight of your secret.

Jake took a deep breath, excitement bubbling just beneath the surface. “I actually have some good news to tell you,” he said, glancing at you with a wide grin that made your heart flutter.

Your curiosity piqued, and you leaned in closer. “What is it?”

He couldn’t contain his enthusiasm, running a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. “I got a call from the aerospace company that I applied to as my first choice for my internship, and…” He paused, glancing up at you, his eyes sparkling with anticipation as he bit his lower lip.

“I got in.”

Your heart drop to the floor, a mix of apprehension profuse the joy swirling within you.

Fuck, you were so incredibly happy for him. You had witnessed him at his hardest, and you understood just how much this fruit of his labor meant to Jake. As a literature student who could barely remember where the calculator app was on your phone, you felt worlds apart from his major. Yet, you knew how tirelessly he had worked, calling you late at night to share his worries and pour out his hopes and dreams. This was the only reputable company that could offer him a decent wage in exchange for experience and rapport in the future.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for him.

You stared at him, unsure how to react appropriately with your current mindset, your heart aching with a sunken, bitter feeling. The light in his eyes shone like beacons as he waited for your response, expecting you to share in his joy and rapture over the achievement, totally oblivious to your internal struggles. But as you opened your mouth and then closed it again, words eluded you, and heavy breaths made the air feel suffocating.

You have to tell him, you have to tell him now.

“Hey, love, what’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is everything okay?” Jake sensed something was wrong immediately, reaching out to squeeze your shoulders as he studied your expression. Concern furrowed his brow, and his voice softened.

You have to, you have to tell him, the nagging voice in the back of your mind insisted, drowning out Jake's worried tone. Your heart raced, each beat echoing the weight of the secret you were holding.

“J-Jake,” You breathed out, forcing yourself to calm down as you swallowed hard the tears down. He looked back at you, his gaze so delicate and tender that it eased some of the tension in your body. This was it. You were finally going to tell him.

“Jake, I’m—”

Your phone rang, interrupting the moment and pulling you back to a nervous wreck. The incoming call distracted you just enough to pause, and you fished your phone out of your pocket, hoping to silence it quickly. But when you saw the caller ID, your heart sank. It was your mother— the last person you wanted to hear from right now.

You glanced up at Jake, who was still watching you with a mixture of concern and curiosity, and you hesitated. Should you answer it? Your mother always had a knack for timing, and you weren’t sure you were ready to face whatever she might say. But your gut told you to answer before an even bigger storm might brew. Taking a deep breath, you swiped to answer, turning slightly away from Jake to create some privacy.

“Hello?” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, your hand gripping the phone a little too tight.

There was a brief pause on the other end, then your mother’s familiar voice broke through, laced with tension. “Come home this instant,” she said, her voice tight, barely masking a simmering anger.

You felt Jake’s eyes still on you, his concern deepening as you tried to keep calm. Your heart started to race.

“Mom, can it wait? I’m in the middle of something right now.”

“No, it can’t,” she cut you off sharply, her voice dropping to a low that was too calm for the norm that sent a cold shiver down your spine.

“I found the pregnancy test box, Y/N. You come home right now.”

The line went dead. The call had ended— but you felt like your heart had stopped, too.

Everything around you faded, and the weight of her words hit like a punch in the gut. It felt as though the skies were collapsing, the floor beneath you quaking, and a massive tsunami was about to engulf you, drag you under until you were drowning in its depths. Your mind screamed, but it was muffled, like you were submerged underwater, gasping for air. The panic consumed you, threatening to pull you under until Jake’s hands grabbed you, grounding you in the moment.

"Y/N?” His voice pierced through the chaos, pulling you back to your feet. He held you tightly, eyes wide with fear. “What’s going on?"

The concern etched into his face only made it harder to breathe, and you realized that everything— the secret, your mother's words, and now his worry— was closing in around you.

“I-I have to g-go,” you stammered, your voice trembling as the words spilled out before you could stop them. Jake’s confused expression only mirrored the chaos inside you, his brow furrowing in concern as he watched you struggle. The words felt foreign, like they didn’t belong to you, slipping from your lips without your permission.

“I-I’m sorry, Jake, I—” you said quickly, your words rushing together as the urge to flee surged inside you. “My mom— she needs me. I-I have to go. I-I’ll explain later, I promise, I swear I will, but I just can’t do it right now."

There was a heavy silence between you, thick and suffocating. In your panic, it felt like an invisible chasm had opened between the two of you, a space you couldn’t cross. Jake just stared at you, really looked at you, his eyes searching yours, trying to understand the storm raging inside. You could see it clearly: he wanted to reach out, to help, to ask what was wrong.

But he knew. He knew that pushing you right now would only make it worse. If he asked you what was wrong, it would shut you down completely, triggering an even deeper spiral of panic. It would be like setting off a chain reaction, a cascade that neither of you could control. So, in that brief, agonizing moment, Jake made the choice— the most rational one he could. He stepped back emotionally, even if he wanted to do the opposite, because he trusted you enough to do it.

"Okay," he said softly, his voice steady and calm, though you could see the tension in the way he closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if grounding himself. When he opened them again, they were full of quiet understanding. "Okay, alright," he repeated, nodding slowly.

“Do you need me to drive you there?"

You shook your head, trying to steady your shaky breath. “It’s okay,” you murmured, “Lena can drive me there.”

Jake nodded, his expression softening slightly, though the uncertainty still lingered. In that moment, you realized you’d let something slip— Lena knew something he didn’t. You could see it register in his eyes, that small detail, and though he didn’t ask, it seemed to give him a bit of solace.

“Okay, then I’ll see you later?” Jake’s voice was gentle, no malice, no pressure— just pure reassurance. You nodded quickly, already turning to find Lena, but something pulled you back. Before you knew it, you were taking a few steps back to him.

Without warning, you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him deeply. It was sudden, impulsive, but necessary. Jake responded immediately, his hands instinctively finding their place on your hips, pulling you closer as if you were meant to fit together like this. The familiar spark ignited in your stomach— the same fireworks that always went off when you kissed him like this. But you knew this wasn’t the time to get lost in it, not when the weight of everything was still hanging between you. As much as you craved the comfort of this moment, you couldn’t let it deceive you into thinking everything was okay, not yet.

You broke the kiss, your heart heavy. Without looking back at Jake, afraid of the emotion in his eyes that might unravel you, you turned away and walked toward the uncertainty awaiting you.

You told Lena to wait in the car as you made your way toward the front door of your childhood home.

The house had aged intricately over the years, like an old photograph fading with time. The paint had faded, the pipes were rusted, and there were dents and scratches on the concrete frame despite the darkness of the night. You could almost see your younger self playing in the soil of the front yard, learning to ride your bicycle along the pavement, and spending whole days looking out the front door window, watching your neighbors across the street— the mother and daughter holding hands, heading off to the movies or the park.

You couldn’t remember the last time you held your mother’s hand.

The living room was eerily calm, the chill in the air contrasting with the faint glow from the dining room where the kitchen was. Under the chandelier's soft light, your mother sat at the end of the table, a mug of tea beside three pregnancy test boxes she’d found in the bathroom trash. The sight made your chest tighten. You didn’t dare step fully into the kitchen, stopping at the entrance. Crossing your arms, you tried to keep your trembling fingers at bay, the weight of the confrontation pressing down on you.

“What was the result?” She asked, her voice aloof and measured. Your mother didn’t look up at you at first, resting her chin on the palm of her hand, her gaze fixed on the table.

“Mom, I can explain—”

“What was the result, Y/N?” She looked up at you, and the sight took you aback. She looked exactly the same as she did when you were younger— emotionless and disappointed. Every day brought the same look, and to be truthful, you were getting sick of it.

You let out a deep exhale, the ticking of the clock on the wall booming in the silence like a bomb.

“I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, there was nothing— just the sound of your own heartbeat drumming in your ears. You knew she already knew the answer to the question, but saying it out loud, was what made her explode.

“Why would you do this? Why would you ruin our lives?” Her voice broke through the stillness, sharp and furious. You closed your eyes when she finally screamed at you, when she finally snapped. A part of you almost welcomed the outburst— it was better than the cold, emotionless calm. At least now she was showing something, even if it was anger you never wanted to face.

“I gave you everything— an education, food, clothes, a home. What more could you possibly need?” she spat, listing out each thing like a burden she’d carried for years, each word cutting deeper than the last like you were some kind of chore that needs to be completed.

"Why did you let this happen to yourself?"

"Mom, please, it was an accident, okay? Do you really think I wanted to get pregnant right now?" Your voice grew louder, more adamant, as frustration surged through you. The insinuation that you had done this on purpose felt like a slap to the face, and you couldn't hold back the intensity any longer.

"Does he know, hmm?" Her voice dripped with mockery, almost ending in a cruel laugh as she rolled her eyes dramatically, like she already had it all figured out. "Do the guy or guys you’ve been fucking, know about this?" She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, her gaze piercing through you like she was daring you to respond.

Anger started to bubble up inside you.

You had constantly reminded her that you had a boyfriend, afraid of how she might initially react, but slowly easing her into the idea of Jake since you started dating. But she always seemed uninterested. Every time you suggested a small lunch or dinner to get to know him, she was "too busy" or had some excuse. It reached a point where mentioning his name would earn you that same blank expression— like she had no idea who he was. You had to remind her again and again, as if his mere existence wasn’t even worth remembering in her life.

"No, I haven’t told Jake— my boyfriend, about the pregnancy yet," You explained, sucking your teeth as you tried to keep your voice calm and civil despite your current temper.

"But I was going to, until you decided to call me."

"Oh, so this is my fault now?" she shot back, her voice rising with incredulity as she stood up from the chair, her frustration spilling over. "My fault that you didn’t tell your boyfriend? You think he didn’t have a hand in this? That he didn’t know exactly what he was doing when he got you into bed?"

"Mom, that's disgusting! Why would you even say that?" You yelled, feeling heat rise to your head at her accusation against Jake, as if he had lured you. This was it— her strategy every time you argued, twisting the conversation to make you feel guilty, manipulating your words against you to gaslight you further.

"Jake would never—"

"I don't want to hear it," she interrupted, holding up her hand to silence you. You hated that you instinctively obeyed, that your body seemed to give her the authority.

"You're having an abortion," she declared, as if her decision were final. "You're going to transfer to a community college close to home, and you're going to leave the dorm. No more of your friends' influence."

You shake your head with defiant, standing your ground.

“You can't control my life anymore, Mom," Your face and body felt defeated, not because you were giving in, but because you were so emotionally exhausted that you could barely summon the energy to fight back.

"And I'm not having an abortion because that's not for you to fucking decide."

Your mother scoffed, marching toward you with her eyes wide, filled with disbelief, as if she couldn’t fathom what you had just said.

“Is this some kind of revenge against me?” she demanded, her voice rising with each syllable. “I knew you weren’t happy with me, but I never expected you to pull a stunt like this! Wake up, Y/N! Be fucking mature for once! This is reality— own up to your mistake!” She punctuated her words with a sharp gesture, her finger jabbing the air between you right up to your face.

She stared directly into your eyes, her jaw clenched in anger, and you fought to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

“You're just like your fucking father,” she whispered, the insult leaving a bitter burn in her mouth.

You watched as her face began to process the weight of her words, finally opening the Pandora's box of emotions. Years of pent-up frustration, anger, and hatred had found their origin, and you could finally understand why she acted the way she did. The way her expression twisted whenever one of her friends mentioned how much you resembled your father, the absence of any pictures or traces of him in the house—it all made sense now. You weren’t even sure if he had ever paid child support or if he simply allowed your mother to have sole custody when you were born.

But none of it mattered anymore; at this point, you just didn’t care to know.

"That's it, isn't it? That's the reason my life ended up like this." You pressed, your voice thick with repugnance, like a time capsule unsealed, exposing the buried resentment lodged deep in your heart. A sneer nearly crossed your lips as you watched your mother’s whole body and face seemed to recoil.

"And you have the audacity to pin me as some revenge-driven monster? Well, take a good look in the mirror, Mom." You spat the last words venomously, your eyes narrowing and fists clenching at your sides as she flinched.

"Well now you don't have to worry anymore, because I don't ever want to see you again." You said, stepping back without hesitation as your hand tightening around the doorframe.

There were so many things you wanted to tell her, so many broken and damaged pieces she left behind on the path for you to rebuild. But now, you didn’t think it was worth it anymore. It was time to let go of those pieces, to let them shatter on the ground, and finally forge something of your own.

Your mother stood frozen, her face pale as the words slowly sank in. For some reason, from this new angle in the light, the wrinkles on her face seemed deeper, the strands of white in her hair more prominent— visible signs of how much time had passed, how long you had suffered beneath her, though you hadn’t truly noticed until now.

You caught a glimpse of a doodle near the kitchen entrance as you turned away, the charcoal lines of a pencil embedded in the wallpaper. You remembered it clearly— marking your own height as a child because there was no one around to help you. That sense of independence, forged so young, was the reason you were so driven to break free, to shatter the chains the moment you were able.

"I hope you have a happy life mom."

Your final, genuine wish echoed through the lonely kitchen as you walked away from your mother for the last time, swearing never to look back again.

You looked up from your phone when you heard soft knocks on your bedroom door. You were lying comfortably on your bed, but you sat up to see who was coming in. You knew Lena and Ningning mentioning they were going out to buy groceries later, which left only one other person who knew where the emergency key was kept hidden at the entrance.

"Knock, knock," Jake's voice called out playfully as he popped his head through the slightly open door. "I brought you cookies." You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight as he tiptoed in with a puppy-like grin, carefully closing the door behind him. In his hand, he held a brown bag with the logo of your favorite bakery from across the street, sitting at the edge of your mattress.

"You didn’t have to." You cooed, taking the bag with a grateful smile.

He shrugged as you scooted over, making room for him to settle beside you. "I know, but I wanted to. Besides, cookies always make you feel better."

The smell of warm cinnamon and sweet chocolate invaded your senses, and though you would have devoured the cookies like any other day, the lingering effects of your morning sickness made everything taste and smell a little off. So, you hesitated, placing the bag aside for now.

You and Jake leaned back against the headboard of your bed, your shoulders pressed together in the small space. Without thinking, you rested your head on his board shoulder, seeking comfort in his presence. Jake shifted, adjusting his posture to let you settle in more comfortably, letting out a satisfied smile when he felt you snuggled closer before placing his head on top of yours.

"Hey, Jake," You said softly, using the tips of your toes to poke his shin playfully. He hummed in response, turning his head slightly to acknowledge you.

"Have you ever thought about the future?"

He gently rested one of his feet on top of yours, playfully pinning it down, as you try to wiggle out from under the weight but failing. "Yeah, Sometimes when I can't sleep." he replied, his voice low and thoughtful. "My mind just kinda zones out, and then it’s like an endless loop of ‘what ifs’ and all that stuff."

You hummed in response as if you could relate to his situation all the time, your voice soft as you asked, "Do you sometimes think about our future together?" Your gaze drifted down to where your playful ministrations had left your limbs tangled together in the sheets, pillows thrown off somewhere on the floor.

"Yes," he admitted faster than you expected, his voice quiet but sure, as his hair lightly tickled your ear. He let out a small laugh at the end, "Maybe just a little too much."

You moved away, standing up straight as the muscles in your neck throbbed from the prolonged awkward position. But mostly, it was to gauge Jake's expression after your random questions that he seemed so willing to answer.

Your silence gave Jake a chance to really observe you. The dark circles under your tired eyes were more pronounced, your eyes slightly red, and your hair tied in a cute, messy bun. He had to resist the urge to reach out and tuck a stray strand behind your ear, instead opting to give you some space and time to think.

"I've been sick for a few days now, throwing up a lot in the mornings and don't really have the appetite to eat anything," You explained, hugging a pillow tightly to your chest. Jake moved closer to listened to you intently. "At first, I thought it might be the stupid gas station sushi we ate, but then I realized... I didn’t get my period last month. So, I took some tests just to be sure..."

Jake furrowed his brows, confusion flickering across his face. "Y/N, what do you mean…" His voice trailed off, his mind racing to put the pieces of information you told him into perspective, like fragments of a puzzle slowly finding their place in a bigger picture. Then, something clicked. Before he could fully process it, the words slipped out.

"You're pregnant."

The disbelief was evident in his voice as he stared at you eyes as wide as saucers. You nodded, confirming what he could barely believe.

"I don’t understand…" He began, rubbing his temples in deep contemplation. "I just don’t understand how this happened. We always used protection, right?" He looked back at you, then his gaze drifted, almost unconsciously, to your abdomen. "Then… how did we…?"

"I don't know." You admitted, looking as lost as he did. "The last time we did it was at the bathroom at Jay's party. Did the condoms you used yours?" You asked, as Jake prone over your questions.

"Yeah, I usually keep one in my wallet or pocket, but the second..." His face suddenly fell, panic setting in as realization dawn on him, like getting hit with ice cold water over the head. He blinked rapidly, his voice wavering. "Someone was handing some out at the start of the party, and I took one without thinking. You don’t think they would have—"

"Tampered with it?" You finished, disbelief sharp in your voice. "Fuck, Jake, I think whoever gave it to you did."

At the time, he hadn’t even considered, hadn’t paid attention to the possibility that someone could do something so messed up. Now, the realization hit him hard. He ran a hand through his hair, his face pale, looking almost sick, like he might throw up at any moment.

"I can’t believe this. I didn’t even think to even fucking check. I just… trusted it." His shoulders slumped, letting out a grunted sigh of guilt. You caught the shimmer in his eyes, his anger and confusion crashing together like deadly waves.

"All of this is my fault," He murmured, his voice breaking, fully grasping the predicament he'd put you in. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. It's all my fucking fault."

You reached out immediately, cradling his face gently, your thumbs brushing over the apples of his cheeks in comfort. Instinctively, he placed his hands over yours desperately, grounding himself in your touch.

"Don’t blame yourself, Jake," You said softly, your gaze steady on his. "If there’s anyone to blame, it’s those people who did this, okay? What they did was fucked up."

He took a deep breath, trying to absorb your words, but a new concern flickered in his eyes. "Does your mom know?"

Jake wasn’t foreign to the details of your childhood, though he wouldn’t say it was easy for you to confide in him about your complicated bond with your mother when you first started dating, so he only knows bits and pieces. You’d described it simply, brushing over the pain, which was probably why he’d even thought to ask about your mother's reaction now.

"She knows," You confessed tensely. "Remember when she called me last time at the party? She found the box for my pregnancy test." The memories flowed back in slow motion, and Jake took your hand, intertwining it with his larger one to give you a reassuring squeeze of encouragement.

"She told me to get an abortion, to leave everything I have build here and come back home," You swallowed hard, but the tears didn’t stop flowing out your eyes. "But I told her she can't control my life anymore, that I’m keeping the baby and before I knew it, she was out of my life for good this time."

Jake pulled you gently onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you and guiding your head to rest against his chest. One hand caressed your back while the other held the back of your head, and you surrendered to the release, letting the tears flow freely into his embrace. He murmured soft reassurances, pressing his lips affectionately to the crown of your head. Rocking you gently, he created a safe space for you to let it all out. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, finding comfort in his warmth like never before.

"I’ll support whatever you choose, Y/N. It should always be your choice what you do with your body, and I’m so proud of you for standing up to your mother," he reassured you softly. You hadn’t thought it was possible, but in that moment, you felt yourself falling even more deeply in love with him as you shared one heartbeat.

He took a steadying breath, whispering to you saccharinely. "If you choose to keep the baby, our baby, then I’ll do everything in my power to keep both of you safe. Whatever it takes, I’m here."

You knew it would be a struggle for both of you— neither of you had the bandwidth to fully handle what lay on the other side of this journey. But seeing him here, trying his best to pull through for both of you, gave you the smallest glimmer of hope. And you knew you’d always do the same for him. This moment may have been small, but it was enough to make you believe, even if just for a second, that you’d both get through it.

Time seems to flow like a river, and everything in your life has gradually started to find its place, evolving naturally around your sudden change in plans for the future.

The first people you and Jake told about the pregnancy were his parents. It felt inevitable— both of you always wanted them to be a meaningful part of your child’s life from the very beginning. And knowing Jake, you doubted he’d be able to keep it a secret for long; he was too close with his family, and sooner or later, he was bound to let it slip. Telling them felt like the right first step.

"Do you think your parents are gonna take the news alright?" You ask him from the passenger seat as Jake settles into the driver’s.

His parents were always different from your own— present in his life, involved in every moment, big or small. You had spent countless Christmases and Thanksgivings with them over the years, and they welcomed and treated you like their own, to the point where Jake and his older brother would sometimes joke about how much their parents liked you better than them, often telling you how much they always wanted a daughter of their own to adore.

Since then, you had come to understand exactly where Jake got his warmth and kindness. His parents were the kind of people who loved wholeheartedly. Yet despite this, you couldn’t shake the fear and worries that they might see your pregnancy as too soon, that they might wonder if you were taking their youngest son’s future from him before it had even fully begun.

"They'll be...understanding, that's for sure," Jake replied, though you caught a hint of skepticism in his own words.

"But I don't want you to worry too much. Besides, I don't think my parents would be too opposed to becoming grandparents either if it’s you." He reached out to hold your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the back of it lovingly.

That's how you both found yourselves driving back to his hometown one weekend, sitting together on the couch in his family’s living room across from each other as you shared the news. You had braced for their reaction as expected— a mix of happiness, confusion, and, above all, a deep-seated worry for the two of you and the baby.

Their faces showed their desire to be supportive, though you couldn’t fault them for the anxiety that crept into their expressions. Despite their concern, they were ready to help as much as possible, which you appreciated deeply. But you and Jake had already agreed: you’d take full responsibility, not wanting to lean too heavily on their kindness.

After that, you and Jake decided to share the news with your close-knit friends, knowing that having the right support system could make all the difference. Besides, it felt uncomfortable keeping something so important from the people you trusted— those who had been by your side for so long.

There was an initial look of shock on their faces— Ningning had her hands covering her mouth, Sunghoon's signature eyebrow was raised so high it practically touched his hairline, and Jay’s jaw seemed to drop to the floor. The only one who didn’t blink twice was Lena, who sat on the couch with a smug smile, amused by the other's reaction to your pregnancy.

“Surprise...?” You squeaked, though they remained frozen in their spots.

It seemed almost unreal that this was happening. Sure, they knew Jake was the most likely among them to be married or even become a father first, but you were the more liable one compared to Jake’s clumsy nature, which overall balance out the relationship. The two of you were also the only ones in a committed relationship amongst your friends.

Anyone could guess that you and Jake were eventually going to end up like together together, but they hadn’t expected it to happen so abruptly.

“How far along are you?” Ningning was the first to speak, immediately pulling you into an enthusiastic hug.

“Almost 2 months,” You replied, gently cradling your lower abdomen to show her. You glanced at Jake, who was smiling beside you. “We’ve got our first gynecology appointment next week to get an ultrasound.”

You didn’t miss the way her eyes filled with tears and her lips pouted as she stared lovingly at you and Jake together. Seeing her so excited and sentimental made you feel almost emotional yourself. She pulled you into another tight hug, and you gladly returned it.

“Dude, you’re gonna be a fucking baby daddy,” Jay said, approaching Jake with his usual fervor and pulling him into a rough hug, in typical Jay fashion.

After congratulating you, Sunghoon smacked Jay on the chest with a serious scowl. “Oh my god, Jay, don’t curse in front of the baby!”

Lena joined the group, draping an arm over your and Jake’s shoulders with a proud smile. “So now that everyone knows you’re pregnant, let’s just agree that I’m going to be the baby’s best godparent.”

You and Jake laughed at the chorus of denial coming from the others, obviously objecting to who truly had the worth to hold that title. The situation was almost comedic, and you could always count on your friends to lighten the mood by arguing among themselves about something so minuscule regarding the baby. At the sight of that, you found a comforting relief in your chest just watching them, knowing that your baby was going to have so many reliable adults (sorta) to look after and pamper them until the end of the world.

Next week arrived, and the gynecology appointment came swiftly. You and Jake patiently waiting at the receptionist waiting room for your name to be called. There was a unspoken nervousness that course through the both of you, but you held each other's hand in silent encouragement as the staff gave you some documents to signed over in the mean time.

“—and who is the person accompanying you, Ms?” the nurse asked without thinking over the counter, causing you to pause and glance at Jake awkwardly.

You weren't sure what to tell her. It made sense to say that Jake was your boyfriend; surely she would understand, right? But maybe the self-consciousness was creeping in, making you fearful of being judged as incompetent or insecure in your situation for choosing to have a baby despite not having the security of marriage. You had seen the debates about it all on the internet, and it was only human to feel a bit self-conscious about people's views.

Jake shot you one of his warm smiles when he noticed your hesitation— the kind that always made you feel safe. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he replied nonchalantly, never breaking eye contact with you.

"I'm the baby's father, ma'am."

Jake’s words gave you the strength you needed throughout the process— from meeting the doctor, to her placing the ultrasound device on your abdomen, to watching the faint outline of your baby on the monitor. Unfortunately, the baby’s heartbeat couldn’t be heard in the early phase of the 1st trimester in your case, which was probably for the best, since you and Jake would have likely ugly cried even harder if you’d heard it together.

Things started to fall into place one by one— Jake began his internship without a hitch, and you continued with your classes as usual. Despite Jake’s concerns, you promised him you wouldn’t push yourself too hard, though it took plenty of reassurance to ease his puppy-like worry. You’d told yourself that if you could make it to an 8am lecture on Greek monologue after partying until 3am on the same day, you could handle at least that much of hardship of pregnancy.

The biggest change was Jake’s decision to rent an apartment now that he was earning a steady income. He thought it was a good idea for you both to have a shared space to take care of the baby, knowing it would be challenging to do so while living separately. You were happy to keep things minimalistic, just grateful for Jake’s sacrifices, though he always assured you he was more than okay with it— jokingly saying that he can now finally have you all to himself to spoil.

And he did. Jake took care of you more than you could care for yourself. He was patient with you during your sudden mood changes, cleaned the place on days when you were physically incapable of doing so, and still managed to satisfy your odd cravings in the middle of the night when he came home from work. Even then, he was willing to massage your legs when the swelling caused you pain to walk.

It almost felt like you were taking him for granted, and there were moments when you wondered if he might become exhausted by the constant stress. You wouldn’t blame him if conversations of regret started to dwell in his mind. Yet every day, without fail, he would lay down beside you on the bed at the end of the day while facing each other. His hand would trail to caress your protruding stomach as he whispered sweet words, as if he were already communicating with your unborn child, thanking you for your efforts of giving him the chance to be a father.

With his help, the feelings of insignificance and uselessness began to fade in the background, and you slowly accepted that pregnancy was not an easy journey. Both of you were holding each other by a thread, sharing the hope of welcoming your child by the end of this dark tunnel.

Almost four months passed by more quickly than you expected. The physical and emotional changes you and Jake faced each day made time feel both swift and excruciatingly slow— if that was even possible. However, the silver lining was that your body was getting used to the growing baby. You were finally able to move around freely instead of feeling stuck between your bed and the sofa. Your appetite had returned to normal, allowing you to eat without much difficulty.

At your recent appointment with the gynecologist, the baby had reached the stage where the gender could be clearly identified. Your friends, eager to make it a lasting memory, insisted on throwing a baby shower and gender reveal party to mark the occasion. Jake and Lena went out to pick up the specially ordered cake from a bakery, while Sunghoon and Ningning teamed up to decorate the living room (despite some playful bickering about where things should go). You and Jay took charge of the food and drinks for the guests— well, mostly Jay, since he insisted you sit down and rest while he handled everything.

Jay nagged you more than usual as he rummaged through your fridge, clearly concerned about how empty it was. In the meantime, he prepped a bunch of healthy snacks for you, making you laugh at his grumbling but underlying affection, almost as if he were the one who was pregnant instead of you.

The party began once everyone arrived, including some of your close friends like classmates Sunoo and Minjeong, along with Riki and Jungwon—juniors Jake had met through his dance club— and, of course, Jake's parents.

Your apartment, once a quiet space for just you and Jake, now felt like a lively festival, filled with so many loved ones. The excitement in the room warmed your heart as you sat at the table with the gender reveal cake in front of you. Everyone of them wore colors representing the gender they believed the baby would be— though some were definitely more adamant about their guesses.

"Hey, love," Jake greeted, leaning down to give your forehead a gentle kiss before taking the seat beside you. "How’s our little corn doing?"

You found it adorable that Jake had taken to giving the baby different nicknames based on their size each week. Ever since he stumbled upon a website showing how big the baby was at each stage, he’d started affectionately referring to them as different fruits and vegetables, each one a silly little surprise for you to look forward to.

"Doing good, though their mom would really appreciate it if they’d stop kicking her uterus so much.” you replied, resting a hand on your bump.

"Ohhh, we’ve got a little football player on the way," Jake said with a goofy grin, clearly eager to teach his child how to kick a ball just like his father had taught him.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling at his endless excitement. It made your maternal instinct flutter, imagining Jake crouching down to his knees, patiently guiding a mini version of yourselves in the park as you watch them from your seat at the picnic blanket.

You and Jake already knew that no matter what the child was, you’d love them. It didn’t matter to either of you, as long as the baby was healthy. That’s why you opted to wear white for the gender reveal, without any expectations.

"Come on, guys," Sunghoon called, gesturing for you both to focus on the party. His digital camera was already set up to record in the center of the room. "Cut the cake!"

Everyone was on the edge of their seats watching as you and Jake held the knife handle together, slowly slicing through the cream-covered cake. With a shared giggle, you let the slice fall onto the plate, finally revealing the baby pink sponge cake inside. The room erupted in cheers, and party poppers went off with a loud bang, showering everyone in sparkling confetti that rained down in celebration.

You saw Jake’s mother crying tears of joy as Jake's father hugged her with a beaming smile. Your friends couldn't stop clapping and cheering, thrilled about the little princess they’d soon welcome to adore. The energy in the room was electric as Jake pulled you into a tight embrace, whispering “our baby girl” over and over into your ear. You clung to him, echoing his words between choked sobs as you cried together on his shoulder.

You were so happy and so grateful for this moment, yet you couldn't shake the petrifying feeling in your heart. It was a strange inkling that created a small hollow space within you, making it difficult to focus throughout the party, despite your efforts to maintain a smiling facade and convince yourself that everything was alright. You might be able to trick yourself and everyone else, but you knew you could never fool your boyfriend.

"Something's on your mind, isn't it?" Jake asked gently as you both got ready for bed after the party. You looked into his eyes after sitting on the edge of the bed and changing into your nightgown, sighing in defeat as you realized you couldn't say no to him.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" You asked genuinely, a hint of perturbation coloring the cadence of your words.

Jake moved to sit beside you, his fingers gently tracing the contours of your face as he leaned in closer, his warmth radiating against you. You couldn’t get enough of the way he looked at you, as if you held his entire universe in your hands. He was intimately familiar with the map of your features, just as he understood your proclivity to overthink, knowing precisely the right words to soothe you. Others might see you as a brooder, but he understood your concern as a reflection of how deeply you cared— about him, about the baby.

"Anything that involves you will always be right," He said. It was a soft whisper in the twilight moonlight, where everything felt quiet and serene, drawing your attention to his expression.

You couldn’t help but notice the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes as he smiled, accentuating the unique quirk of his pouty lips that you adored kissing. It reminded you of the first time you met, when he put in so much effort to impress you with his playful antics and awkward yet charming jokes. You both ended up laughing throughout the entire date, a feeling that blossomed into something deeper.

The way he kissed you now brought back the same feeling you’d had back then, making you feel like you might explode. He traced your jawline gently before grabbing it hastily, angling your lips up to meet his whilst your free hand itched to grab his shoulders. You almost bumped noses as Jake leaned in to deepen the kiss, making it hard to breathe with the intensity of it all.

“She'll love you.” You managed to gasp with the opportunity you had, though he didn’t let you go for long. Smiling against your lips as he realized you meant your baby girl, he slipped a hand down to cup your bump, his smile widening as he felt a tiny kick against his palm.

"She’ll love us," Jake murmured, pulling back just an inch, his gaze flickering to your lips with lust before capturing them again, this time with a ravishness that left you winded. His tongue ventured into your mouth with a hunger like it was the first time, exploring like it was uncharted territory, yet his lips moved against yours with a softness that melted you. Unable to resist, you reached up and tugged gently at his hair, opening your mouth wider to show him you wanted this as much as he did.

"Move up here for me, love." His hands brushed gently along your sides, encircling your waist as he guided you toward the middle of the bed, helping you settle against the headboard in a comfortable position.

"Is this okay? Are you comfortable?" Jake asked with a hint of worry, his palms stroking your inner thighs as your nightgown ride up slightly to expose your skin while you shifted along the mattress.

"I'm okay, Jake," You reassured him, brushing his bangs aside to get a clearer look at him. His slow, mallow pace made you feel a little impatient, a spark of intense desire starting to burn. "I want you to keep going," You begged, voice barely above a whisper.

Jake’s mouth slid against yours at your command, sending a warm thrill through you as he coaxed your bottom lip, nibbling on it like something sweet. Jake took this moment to peel your nightgown from your body over your head, making sure you didn’t have to lift a finger as he helped you undress, leaving you in just your panties for him to stop and gaze at.

It took every fiber of your willpower not to shy away and hide from Jake. You were hyper-aware of the physical changes your body had undergone, noticing them unconsciously every morning in the shower. Beyond the growing weight of your belly, you’d observed your areolas darkening, your breasts and curves becoming fuller, and the stretch marks becoming more prominent.

You constantly reminded yourself that this was normal, that it was natural for your body to look and feel this way because pregnancy is complicated. Dwelling on these changes would only hurt you internally, especially when you were certain Jake didn’t think twice about any of them. You knew he loved you unconditionally, for who you were, not just your body.

It was evident in the way Jake’s hooded eyes trailed over your naked skin, studying with fascination every inch with a look of awe. There was something both primal and possessive in his gaze as he swallowed with a heavy breath, instinctively licking his lips. It was as if, just by being there, you were ripping his insanity piece by piece. Heat rose to the tips of your ears, your heart racing as his intense admiration pulled you deeper into the moment, slotting himself between your legs.

"You're beautiful," His hands groped the flesh of your thighs before roaming upward past your stomach to squeeze your breasts. The brush of your hardened nipples against his palm rendered you speechless, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"I look like a planet," You softly joked, finding it rather hard to believe.

Jake looked up at you with a smirk, dipping his head to lick a stripe along the valley of your breast. “Then, I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but—"

You nearly knocked your head against the headboard when Jake took one of your perked nipples between his swollen lips, letting out a breathless whine as he pulled on the pebble with his teeth.

“—I’ve never wanted to fuck a planet so badly in my life after seeing you.” His groan rumbled against your chest.

You would have point out everything remotely wrong with his statement if only he wasn’t working wonders on your breast. His mouth move to suckle on the hardened nipple, his tongue swirling around it messily while his other hand kneaded the other breast, fingers twisting and flicking at the sensitive nub. He alternated between ministrations, giving each peak the same well-deserved attention that makes your back arch at the pleasure.

Your hands searched for something to hold on, slipping under his shirt to trace the defined contours of his back muscles. Just the sensation of your nails clawing desperately over his skin made him shiver.

Jake knew how tenderly aching every part of your body was due to the pregnancy. You were so responsive, so sensitive— completely under the mercy of his touch, letting out loud moans of his name that turned him on. He was obsessed with the way you threw your head back, your skin shuddering with goosebumps, and the way your hips twitched when he rubbed two fingers over your clothed sex, feeling just how wet you were as it soaked through sticking to his fingers.

“Can you feel how wet you are, baby? Your pretty little cunt is drooling for me.” Jake taunted, feeling the vibrations of your whimpers as he moved away from your breasts, placing final, gentle kisses on each puckering nipple to ease their soreness.

"Yes," you shuddered, feeling him press down sharply against your core, making your legs tremble. “Please do something, J-Jake, I’m going crazy."

“I know, baby, I know. Let me take care of you." Jake cooed, pulling his shirt over his head to expose his lean physique.

Your eyes lingered on the prominent bulge straining against his sweatpants before he sank on his stomach between your legs. His fingers slipped under the waistband of your panties and peeled the damp fabric from your pussy eagerly, tugging it until it was completely off your legs.

You blushed, noticing the way his face hovered at eye level so close to your bare pussy. His pupils were blown out, and you could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your aching core.

"So swollen and pretty," He purred, watching your moist folds glistening with arousal as you clenched over nothing at his words. His thumb pressed gently on your skin, spreading the delicate flesh to reveal your puffy clit while his other hand held you firmly under your thigh.

A stream of curses spilled from your lips as Jake flattened his tongue against your wet folds, lapping at your slit with fervor to work you open. His plump lips were soft, yet his tongue had a roughness that drove you wild, the contrasting sensations leaving you breathless as he devoured you.

Jake let out low groans of pleasure, spurred on by your fingers tangled in his hair, your nails grazing his scalp as you urged him closer to your bucking hips. He felt your thighs pressing in on either side of his face, only driving him to inhale deeply as the tips of his nose nudge against your clit with every lick and suckle, savoring your scent and juices as it grew sweeter.

“You taste so good, baby, could munch on you forever," He mumbled, moving his skillful tongue to roll over your throbbing clit, flicking the bundle of nerves playfully as he relished in the way you were grinding against his mouth.

The lewd sounds you made were a hymn that only fueled Jake’s desire, making him groan as he hump his clothed erection against the mattress, his tip twitching with precum because you tasted too good to be true. Jake was a devotee when it came to you. Your body was a holy temple, and your beautiful cunt was a deity he was willing to kneel before in worship, especially if heaven tasted like it did between your legs.

"J-Jakey, oh my God," You sobbed out, squeezing you eyes shut. "Feels so, so good—Hmnh—"

You nearly choked on your own words when Jake probed his middle finger to your entrance, his saliva mixed with your slick arousal allowed him to insert his finger smoothly into your velvet walls. You instinctively clenched around his digit at the intrusion, savoring the way he curled it just right, grazing that sensitive spot that made your abdomen pulse erratically.

He didn’t move the finger, as if slipping it in was simply to give your tightening walls something to clutch around, to loosen you and make you feel occupied. You couldn’t help but stare at the ceiling, panting heavily as the knot in your stomach tightened. If just one finger was making you feel this intense, you couldn’t imagine the burning sensation his thick cock would bring instead.

Jake sensed the shift in your demeanor when he glanced up, watching you fondled your tender breast with one hand, while the other cradled the underside of your protruding belly as your body writhed. You were close to release, and this spurred him on, his mouth lapping over your delicate pearl with a rapid, more intense rhythm than before, and soon the bedsheets were damp with your creamy juices running down his chin.

"I'm gonna cum, oh God, Jake! I'm gonna—"

Your mouth opened wide, caught up in your orgasm, unable to utter a single sound as your face contorted, nearly blacking out as waves of release crashed over you. Jake’s tongue wriggled against your engorged clit with precision, feeling your walls clenched his finger in a vice-like grip, each movement making the pleasure of your climax worth while.

"Such an obedient pussy.” He mouth out along the expanses of your spent slit, sliding between your cheeks and along the groves of your folds until he languidly kissed your clit. “You came on my tongue so fucking good, baby."

It took a moment for you to recover. It had been months since you’d had any sort of copulation like this, and the expenditure of your release left you shivering under the cold sweat on your skin, the tremors gradually subsiding.

Still, you mustered enough energy to prop yourself on your elbow, watching as Jake sat up and plunge his wet middle finger into his mouth, savoring every drop of your excess essence like liquid gold. Disheveled and his cheeks flushed pink, licking his cum-stained cupid's bow.

Jake leaned forward to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "You’re doing so well for me," He whispered, his hands rubbing your stomach affectionately, as if to check on the baby's state. "Are you okay? Want to keep going?"

You nodded blankly, your finger trailing down to pull on the drawstrings, making him chuckle as he helped tug them loose. Jake hurriedly pulled down his sweatpants with your aid, tossing them onto the bedroom floor. His length spring stiffly against his abs, the tip a deep shade that matched your flushed cheeks as you realized just how eager you’d looked reaching for his pants.

"Sorry." You apologized. "Just...need you inside me right now."

"You're so cute when your cock hungry," Jake shakes his head, giving you those bedroom eyes before pressing a teasing kiss to the corner of your lips. "Lie down for me, love, and let me make that aching pussy feel good."

Jake helps you settle your head on the pillow, guiding you to lie down on your side, as lying on your back was no longer an option. You feel the mattress dip behind you as he wraps his body snugly against your back, pulling you close to his chest. You wish you could face him, craving the intimacy of it while he fucks you, but with your belly in the way, spooning from behind was the best position.

One of his hands went beneath you, supporting the underside of your stomach to hold you in place. You could hear him spit on his palm, his other hand pumping and lubricating his cock in preparation, making your toes curl in anticipation. His hot breath fanned against your nape, his lips sliding across your skin with feather-like kisses.

“You stay just like that.” Jake remarked, and you whimper out loud when you felt his cockhead circling your entrance, probing at the hole experimentally with the slightest pressure. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

He began easing himself into your tightness slowly, hearing you wince as his length stretched against the resistance of your wall.

"Relax for me, baby. Let me in— yeah, just like that. Good girl."

His thumb circled soothingly on your hip encouragingly as you gradually dilated, allowing his tip to press on the deepest part of your swelling walls. Biting your lower lip, you curled inward, cheeks smushed against the soft pillow, on the verge of exploding as Jake buried himself fully, stilling to give you time to adjust to his size.

It was impossible to believe you'd had his cock so many times before, familiar with just how large and hard he could occupied inside you. But now, with your body rearranged to accommodate a living being in your womb, you felt as though you were bursting at the seams, struggling to take all of him.

It didn’t help that this was the first time you felt each other so raw, without any latex barrier to dull the heat as he seeped into your sensitive walls, every vein pressing against your plush insides. Jake was grunting heavily too, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt you pulsing tightly around his cock, like a snug sleeve almost too small to take him, fully realizing just how swollen you were due to the baby.

"Y/N," He soothes breathlessly close to your ear. "Am I hurting you?"

"N-no," You managed to reply meekly, albeit the initial painful sensation was starting to fade but soon turns pleasurable. You could feel your walls adapting to Jake's cock, and a pleasant pressure began to build rapidly. You found yourself craving friction, bucking your hips back slightly to signal him. "You can move, Jake."

The pace of his thrusts was steady at first. He was testing the waters on how far he could take while gauging your reaction. He was attentive to your body language, and when your moans started to increase in volume and your ass bounced back to meet his thrusts halfway, Jake gripped your hips more aggressively. He pulled out until only the head of his cock was almost out before pounding back until his pelvis was flushed against the curve of your spine. He did it over and over again, making you go insane, feeling each other’s sweat sticking your back to his front.

"T-Too deep, Jake. Fuck, it's too fucking deep," You slurred, your voice heavy as if lost in the clouds, the lewd sound of skin slapping echoing in the room as he hit your sweet spot mercilessly from behind.

"Yeah, baby? You like how I fuck your tight pussy?" Jake laughed lowly, nipping at the shell of your ear.

He wished he could see your expression as he grabbed your leg and lifted it, hooking it over his thigh. The angle allowed him to kiss that spot so perfectly engraved in you that the pleasure was almost blinding, making it feel as though he was splitting you apart.

"Feel that? Can you feel how deep I am?"

You were too speechless to answer, so hyperfocus on reaching your high when you felt your baby’s kicking against your belly. You couldn’t help but place a hand over Jake’s, his hand that never left its spot to support the weight of your lower stomach. You didn’t know what came over you to let those incoming words slip. Maybe deep down, you knew how much Jake's paternal instinct would enjoy hearing them.

"G-Gonna make you a dad, Jake." You gasped out when his hold on your leg tightens, your brazen words made his body tense up. "Fuck, gonna make you the father of our babies."

Like a flip of a coin, you were haunted with the beat of the bed squeaking in tandem with Jake's thrust. It was ruthless, it was feral and with each punch of his tip against that sweet spot ripples unbearable pleasure, leaving you a mess of screams.

"That’s right, love. You’re gonna take all my seed like your body was meant to, right? Let me fill your womb until you're nice and full." Jake's voice deepened, a savagery in his demeanor to absolutely batter and bruise your birth canal that you'd have no choice but to accept his cock and his sperm.

You let out a pathetic yes, captive by the way Jake was so turned on by the prospect of him putting another baby in you that your body was slowly surrendering yourself to his gospels. Jake could feel his self control loosening, one hand reaching to grasp your bouncing tits from behind to roughly pinch a tender peak.

"Can’t wait to see you nurse our babies like a good mama.” He was biting the shell of your ear as you squirmed, feeling his thumb’s nail running roughly over your nipple. “Letting them latch on your pretty little nipples until you're leaking with milk.”

His words affected you in ways that felt almost ludicrous, your tender buds and heavy bosoms tingling with anticipation at the mere thought of that sucking motion once your baby is born. Familiar white spots dotted your vision as your release drew closer, the knot in your core tightening so deeply that there wasn’t a semblance of control left in your mind.

Jake was slipping under your touch as well, feeling your gaping hole pulling him in like a sealed vacuum. He couldn’t help but imagine his cock imprinted on the pink linings of your cunt, teetering at the brink of delirium but focused solely on seeing you come undone before giving in to his own desire.

"Gonna make you my wife, baby." Jake's assaults slows down but he used that as a leverage to rail you deep and precise, his movements were deliberate that he knew just the right amount of power to beckon your orgasm forward. "You’ll let me use your pussy forever, until all you can do is get pregnant and have my kids, yeah?"

Incoherent screams of agreement spilled from your lips, and you felt an atomic-like stir scattering from head to toe as your threshold was crossed. Jake said words that encouraged your release— I love you, baby, want you to cum for me. Your climax was blinding, yet at the same time, it revealed the answer to the universe: all you could think about was Jake, Jake, Jake and how much you love him back.

The said man anchored your body close as you convulsed uncontrollably, letting your orgasm wash over you, growing limp with overstimulation. Jake continued to thrust his aching cock once, twice more, his swollen tip twitching against the entrance of your cervix before he let out a long, begrudging moan of triumph into your shoulder, ropes of his creamy cum coated your walls, marking you profoundly with his seed.

Jake always daydream about this moment; all those fantasies led to this as he felt his thick load dripping down the crack of your pussy, spilling down to your inner thighs as you couldn't hold any more of him.

There were no words shared between you two for a minute, ragged breathing and the humidity of sex occupied the space. The aftermath of your highs were intoxicating you in the best way possible, leaving no room for arguments that he had fucked you to another dimension. You wished to bask in this atmosphere a little longer, to soak in each other's presence and recover your bearings. But Jake, ever attentive, lifted himself up, no matter how exhausted he was, and rested his chin on your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses up to your pulse.

One hand reached out to push away the wispy strands of hair clinging to your sweaty forehead as you craned back to look at his smiling face and gooey haze, reaching out to hold his jaw as well.

You snorted tiredly. "You have that creepy smile on you again."

"You said yes," He leaned closer to whisper against your lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he lands a quick peck to your lips.

You frowned, tilting your head in confusion. "To what?

"My proposal."

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smutstationchoochoo · 1 year ago

Text

Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room.

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?” His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment. It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up. Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

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whytheylosttheirminds · 1 month ago

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Don't Call Me Kid - prologue

(Rafe Cameron x Reader, series, 3k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

Your mom called you a late bloomer, and even though you always hated the way she said it, so full of pity and condescension, you couldn’t argue that she was wrong. You were a late bloomer, physically and socially. Your whole childhood and into your teen years, you were painfully insecure, so you tended to hide and shy away from situations that would stretch your comfort zone. You had a good childhood growing up on the ritzy side of the island. But nothing ever felt…complete. You always had this nagging feeling that something was missing, or rather, that you were missing something.

Your older sister, Carter, was the exact opposite of you. She knew who she was from the day she could walk. She developed physically years before you did, even though she was only 18-months your senior. In school, Carter was one grade ahead of you. Everyone knew her, and everyone loved her. She played sports, won class president four years in a row, and was the obsession of every boy in every grade. She was the best known girl on the island, and you were best known as Carter’s sister.

All of these things should’ve been reasons for you to resent her, for the two of you to compete and grow a bitter rivalry, but you were best friends from the start. Carter never made you feel left out or left behind, folding you into her friend group from the time you were kids.

Your mom didn’t have to force Carter to invite you to hang out with her friends, it was always Carter’s idea, dragging you to parties and begging you to keep her company, even though you knew she didn’t need it. She would encourage you to put yourself out there, to leave your books at home and jump in on the fun, assuring you that everyone wanted you around just as much as she did. Carter always saw something in you that you didn’t see in yourself.

From middle school on, Carter casually dated just about every guy in your friend group - Topper, Kelce, several others. She never committed, and they were all fine with having her for just a little bit. There was only one boy she never gave the time of day. The one that she knew was off limits, without you ever really having to tell her, it was just understood.

You had been in love with Rafe Cameron since the moment you first saw him. He was a year above you, in Carter’s grade, and his family lived down the road from yours. You met him on the school bus your first day of kindergarten.

You were so nervous, your mouth going dry as all the kids on the bus looked at you with judging eyes, but Carter just grabbed your hand and pulled you along with her, plopping you into a vinyl seat a few rows from the back. As soon as you sat down, a pair of blue eyes covered by floppy blond bangs popped up over the seat in front of you.

You noticed him right away, eyes wide as his sudden presence startled you, and your cheeks burned bright red for reasons that you didn’t understand yet. The boy didn’t notice your blushing, his attention fully focused on Carter as he reached his hand over the seat and pulled at her braid.

“Quit it, Rafe!” Carter swatted his hand away.

The boy, Rafe, smiled, a small dimple creasing his cheek. You weren’t sure why, but you wished more than anything that he was smiling at you instead. After bugging Carter a little longer, his gaze finally shifted over to you and your eyes shot down nervously to your lap.

“Who is that?” Rafe blurted out, talking about but not to you.

You looked at Carter in panic, tongue-tied as you tried to stammer out your name, which you were struggling to remember. Carter noticed your look of desperation, you were so shy and she had gotten used to speaking for you.

“That’s my sister,” Carter said with pride. “She goes to school with us now.”

“Oh, hi,” Rafe said, polite but unimpressed.

“H-hi,” you managed to squeak out, tucking your hair behind your ears, which were burning red.

Rafe disappeared back into his seat. Carter looked at you, noticing how you were nervously biting your lip, your go to tick when you were nervous. She folded her hand protectively in yours and didn’t let go until she dropped you off at your kindergarten classroom.

This is how your interactions with Rafe would go for the rest of elementary school, and middle school, too. He’d ignore you most of the time, tossing you a word or a look here or there, and you’d melt into an absolute puddle everytime. Your tendency to blush at everything he did never went away, meaning everyone knew you loved him.

Your crush was common knowledge among your sister’s friends, hell among the whole school, but no one dared mention it or tease you about it, lest they tempt Carter’s wrath. But they knew, and you knew they knew, and you knew he knew.

As a freshman, you quickly became first in your class, taking sophomore math and science courses. You ended up in the same first and last period as Rafe, who always struggled in school. After a few weeks of chatting during labs and lending Rafe your notes, you actually started to feel like he had become your friend. He played every sport, and you were right there in the bleachers for every game. Sometimes, when he’d make a great play, he’d look at you in the stands and wink, making your whole body blush, feeling like the most special girl in the world. But then, on his next play, he’d wink at another girl or playfully bow to the cheer squad and it’d make you want to die, suddenly invisible again.

“He’s such a douche,” Carter would nudge you with her elbow, trying to downplay the moment because she knew you were crushed.

You dreaded the day Carter would graduate and leave you at this school alone. You weren’t friends with anyone in your own grade, it seemed the year you were born produced more mean girls and fuck boys than the one before it. Carter would tell you the girls in your grade were just jealous that you got to hang out with her class, but you always thought it was more that they didn’t understand you, and people tend to attack what they don’t understand.

Cassie Bryant was the worst of them. She was the Kook princess of your year, as pretty and popular as anyone could be. From early on, she mastered the art of being mean to you in a way that crushed your spirit but looked totally friendly to everyone else. She’d make backhanded comments like “the way you dress is so…interesting” or “you’re lucky you have so much free time to study, I’m way too busy.”

She was even worse when Rafe was around. It was like Cassie had a radar for when he was finally giving you some attention, and the second you felt comfortable, she’d be there playfully stealing his baseball hat or pouting at him and saying “Rafey, do you have a J?” Then as she pulled him away, she’d laugh at you and say “it’s okay, we know you’re too cool to smoke with us.” No one saw the smug look she’d shoot you as she hung on his arm. You’d try to explain to Rafe why her words hurt you, but he never understood. He’d just shrug and say “that’s just Cassie, she has no filter.”

At least Carter believed you.

“Pick-me bitch,” she’d spit as she watched you watch Cassie steal Rafe away yet again.

You and Rafe saw each other every day. You’d tutor him for tests and help with his homework, you were in advanced classes and he had to retake most of his credits. He’d call you “Einstein” and “smarty pants,” always finding a way to address you without actually using your name. You never thought much of it, convincing yourself that his nicknames were coming from a place of affection. When he wasn’t copying your homework or convincing you to stay up after all of your work was done to help him with his, you found other ways to feel needed. You’d bring him lunch from his favorite spot when he got in-school suspension, bake him brownies before his big games, and give him rides to all his practices since his dad took away his truck so often.

Every afternoon at 4:45, you’d stop by the gas station across from your school and get a Redbull and protein bar for him, and a bag of your favorite candy for yourself. You’d park by the field house, waiting in your car with his snacks for sometimes a half-an-hour before he decided to stop messing around with his friends and head out. When you’d give him his snack, he’d kiss your cheek and say, “thanks, kid.” Even though it wasn’t really meant to be romantic, you lived for those moments when you could pretend you were his girlfriend, smiling at the way the cheerleaders eyed your car judgmentally when you pulled out of the lot with the Rafe Cameron in your passenger seat.

“He’s just using you,” Carter would say when you got home.

“No he’s not,” you’d shrug, “we’re friends.”

“Sure,” she rolled her eyes.

Even if Rafe broke your heart everyday, you were fine with it as long as he put it back together the next with some small gesture that made you hope…maybe someday.

Then, in the spring semester of your junior year, his senior year, you were parked outside the field house like usual after one of his baseball practices. You saw his figure emerge from the brick building, his hair wet and clinging to his forehead. You smiled wildly, your heart fluttering every time you saw him, even after all these years. You got his snacks out and set them on the seat for him, ready for your daily thank you.

But he didn’t head for your car like usual, instead he veered toward the group of cheerleaders gathered on the other side of the lot. You frowned, eyes furrowed as you watched him approach the gaggle of girls. When he reached them, he grabbed one of their hands and pulled her out of the huddle. Your heart sank when you realized who it was.

Cassie giggled as Rafe pulled her toward him, the other girls in the circle laughing and catcalling toward them. Clearly everyone in this parking lot knew something you didn’t.

And then he kissed her.

Rafe pulled away from the kiss, hands still on Cassie’s waist, and watched with confusion as your car peeled out of the parking lot without him.

You didn’t speak to him the whole next week, but he was completely oblivious to your heartbreak, still texting you as if nothing ever happened.

Thursday, March 23rd

Hey kid, u coming to my game tomorrow? u know I need my good luck charm Read 11:03 pm

Sunday, March 26th

Babyyyyy in drvnk at top’s pick me upppp? :( Read 2:17 am

Tuesday, March 28th

yo dude u got the hw packet done for precal? I’m screwed for tomorrow Read 9:56 pm

You’d stare at the messages for a long time before shoving your phone in your desk drawer or turning it off all together, but always made sure to open the message so he’d know you read it.

Then you’d cry yourself to sleep.

Carter would sit in your bed each night, rubbing your back comfortingly, pissed that she couldn’t do more to save you from this hurt, muttering under her breath about how she was gonna kick his ass.

After only a week of unreturned texts and trying to get your attention at school with no luck, Rafe went silent. You thought you’d make him sweat for a few weeks before forgiving him, enough time to show you he cared that you weren’t speaking, but then he did the exact opposite.

“It’s for the best,” Carter tried to convince you.

Maybe she was right. After you no longer had Rafe in your life, you threw yourself into your schoolwork. You had always been smart, but now that you were more focused on yourself and not him, you were acing every class, top of the honor roll.

The gang all went their separate ways after graduation. Rafe to UNC Chapel Hill, Carter to Duke, Topper and Kelce to U of Florida. With your sister and her friends gone, you spent senior year alone, but opened acceptance letter after acceptance letter. Rafe faded slowly from your mind as you dreamt out your future.

Eventually you got the letter you were waiting for, your dream school. The day before you left the island, you promised yourself you wouldn’t miss out on the college experience the way you missed out in high school.

Then, hundreds of miles away from home, something miraculous happened. Far from the memories of your lonely childhood and Rafe Cameron, you bloomed. You made friends early on, feeling like you may have finally found your people in academia. You picked up intramural sports, now you were the one scoring goals and spiking balls and waving smugly to all your friends in the stands. You dated, and you dated. Never settling on one guy too long, having too much fun to tie yourself down.

Things just clicked so much easier, no longer living in your sister’s shadow, far enough away from all the shy girl stereotypes to explore and figure out who you were on your own terms. And slowly, all thoughts of Rafe Cameron faded from your mind. You only thought of him when he made cameos in your dreams, the high school nightmare variety - late to class, showing up naked on accident, a test you forgot to study for, and Rafe in the parking lot kissing Cassie Bryant. You’d wake up cursing your subconscious and feel off for about half a day, before your fast paced routine in your new city erased his face from your mind again.

You changed physically, too. Though you didn’t really feel any different, Carter would make comments every time you came home for a holiday or event.

“Damn, bitch,” she’d say, looking you up and down and wolf-whistling.

“Shut up,” you’d roll your eyes, feigning annoyance when it really made your confidence soar.

She’s just being a supportive sister, you’d tell yourself, clinging to the same insecurity you’d had your whole life. But she wasn’t the only one, boys noticed you now a way they never used to. You hooked up with enough guys to start to feel comfortable with the attention, but whenever you’d draw eyes at college parties or lecture halls, your cheeks would still go bright red, never quite figuring out how to turn off that particular mannerism.

You were almost done with your third year, a plane ticket to head back to North Carolina for Carter’s graduation already purchased. One night, as she showed you options for her graduation outfit on Facetime, she casually threw out, “some of us from Kildare are going to Miami to celebrate graduation.”

“Oh?” You said, not really listening, going over a term paper with a red pen for the fifth time.

“You should come…” she was nervous, trying to say it casually enough that maybe you might not overthink it and just say yes.

“Wait sorry, come where?” You put down your pen and actually looked at the screen, knowing she hated when you were listening without really listening like this.

“Miami,” she repeated. “A few of us are getting an Airbnb on the beach for a week after finals.”

“Who’s us?” You asked.

“Oh y’know,” she started listing names of her old friends, a lot more people than you expected, your throat tightening with a social anxiety you hadn’t felt in years at thought of being in a room with that many people from high school. “...Jack, Maddie, Sabrina. Topper and Kelce obviously,” she continued, at least ten names deep, going quiet for a moment before adding “...and Rafe.”

“No.” you said simply, propping the phone back up and returning to your paper.

“Oh, come onnnn,” she whined, not at all surprised by your response. “It’s been four years, and you’re thriving now! You can just pretend he’s not there.”

“Yes, exactly,” you snarked at her. “Just as I’m finally thriving, you want me to spend a week stuck in a house with Rafe Cameron. That makes sense.”

“You and I will hang out on the beach the whole time, we don’t even have to talk to him,” she reasoned. “And he can just sit in the corner and look at your hot body and feel like shit for being such a dick to you in high school.”

You laughed a little despite yourself. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that wished he could see you now. Even though you stayed away from Kildare as much as possible and barely went out when you were home, terrified of running into him, you also dreamt of a time you would see him again. New look, new confidence, new you.

“Hah! You’re thinking about it aren’t you?” Carter said smugly, interrupting your thoughts.

“Maybe,” you said, turning back to your schoolwork.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” she cheered victoriously.

“Or you can take it as a maybe, which is what it is,” you corrected her.

“Pleaseeee?” She begged. “It’s my graduation trip! And I don’t want to be there without you.”

You sighed deeply, weighing all of the pros and cons as you bit your lip. Carter had always been there for you, and if it was so important to her that you make this trip, it was really the least you could do. Plus, she was going abroad for grad school in just a few weeks, and you knew it would be your last chance to spend time with her for a while.

“Fine…I’ll come,” you finally conceded.

“Yay!” Carter yelped. “Best trip ever!”

“Uh-huh,” you said skeptically. “Best trip ever.”

(Chapter 1)

a/n: hi, i'm nat and i've struggled with body image and anxiety my whole life and I have been the victim of countless unrequited loves, particularly in my teen years, though the sting never really goes away. writing this series has been really personal to me so far, and i'm having a great time. I hope you like it. ♡

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #obx fic #drew starkey #rafe obx #rafe fanfic #rafe fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #obx #outer banks #outer banks fic #topper thornton #x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff

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1d1195 · 2 months ago

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Independent

~10.6k words

From me: I know it's a long one, but it's a one-shot.

Warnings: angst, fluff. I've got about a thousand tropes in this one. Coworker Harry, Roommate Harry, love at first sight, he falls first and harder, one bed if you squint.

Summary: “Go on a date with me,” he groaned.

“Because of the cookies?”

“No! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But s’not usually because of cookies.”

She laughed. “I don’t date, Harry.”

Harry was tall, with soft brown locks that begged to have fingers run through them, and cool green eyes that reminded her of the sage green bridesmaid’s dress she wore to one of her friends’ weddings the year before. He wore a dark purple button down with sleeves rolled up revealing a bunch of tattoos on his left arm but only a few on the right. His voice was melodic. Smooth, like he was going to sing her a lullaby and warm like it could toast a marshmallow.

Her group chat with a couple of her office friends had been buzzing the moment Harry took residence at the desk across the aisle and one row ahead of her.

Holy fuck. Val texted. Office eye candy 😍

Do you hear that thundering sound? That’s my heart 😍 Rachel continued.

She smirked at the desks, shaking her head.

Don’t shake your head. Say something! At least you’re single, you have a chance! Val sent the messages in quick succession, making her desk partner, Hunter, look at her curiously each time it vibrated.

“Do you have an emergency?” He asked her.

She shook her head. “Nope,” she smiled. “Not at all.”

Harry met her and asked her out on the very first day he started his new job. They both worked in an office. Their desks only a short distance apart while they worked together. He assumed there were no rules against dating as there were several married couples within the office as he quickly found out from the shared last names and wedding photos of his coworkers lining one another’s desks.

It seemed, as long as it didn’t interfere with their work, there was no issue.

Which was fine by Harry.

He was happy to ogle her all day long and he would spoil her rotten outside of work. “Hi, m’Harry,” Harry took his opportunity to introduce himself when everyone else left for their lunch hour and she was finishing something up. Leaving them alone in the office. Harry analyzed her desk as quickly as he could.

Their office was wide open with desks back-to-back nearly identical on either side with a long aisle leading to the office of their boss at the back of the room. Her desk faced the front of the room while Harry’s faced his boss’ office. He was on the opposite side of the room, and he had a great view all day long to watch her profile as she worked. Her hair was half up, her beautiful eyes hidden behind glasses, and her mouth set in concentration as she focused on her tasks. He couldn’t see her whole body, but he watched her pull her sandy colored cardigan around her white shirt multiple times that morning, like she was chilled by the air conditioner. His eyes were drawn to her. Like she was a lighthouse, and he was out at sea. All he wanted to do was watch her, keep an eye on her, and admire how stunning she was.

She had a little plant near her window—a bunch of red poppies wrapped up in a burlap vase, tied with a red bow. He couldn’t tell if it was fake or not, but he suspected it was. There was a picture of a large group of friends right by her monitor where she was off to the side in it, one of her girlfriends had an arm around her. Her stationery was cool tones of blues, greens, and purples. Her handwriting was scribbled on a calendar in front of her and he thought the way she curved her L’s was loopy and pretty beyond belief and he wished he had one in his name just to see how it looked. But it made him want to know how she would write his name anyway. There was a date at the end of September that was marked with a heart and he wondered why. Was it an anniversary? A birthday? Or the day her favorite movie came out?

A book sat on the windowsill, and he wondered when she had the time to read it during the day or maybe it was a security blanket kind of thing. There were two paper trays stacked on top of one another to organize her work and sticky notes all over her monitor and desk with ideas, reminders, and even a couple that said things like, “we love you” and “you’re so sweet.”

“Hi, Harry,” she smiled up at him to introduce herself. “Welcome to the team, are you having a good first day?”

He nodded, smiled a little brighter and dove right in. “I think m’in love with you,” she released a laugh that was so unbelievably beautiful Harry thought it sealed the deal. “I wouldn’t laugh, kitten. M’serious,” he frowned with faux sadness. He knew he was being a tad bit ridiculous. Maybe it wasn’t right to say it while they were alone, but he didn’t want to say it in front of everyone either. Hopefully he could convince her he was harmless, even if what he said was true.

Her cheeks reddened and she smiled. “That’s... very forward,” she reminded him. “And you don’t know me.”

“I know,” he rubbed the back of his head. “I was going t’hold off on saying it until tomorrow, but m’unable t’contain it. You’re very beautiful and everyone seems t’go t’you when they need help, so I imagine you’re a lovely person,” he pointed at the sticky note that said we love you once more. She snickered again and looked away covering one cheek with her hand. “M’going t’go t’lunch before I embarrass myself further, but I jus’ wanted to tell you,” he shrugged, stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned toward the exit.

“Nice meeting you Harry,” she called after him a smile on her lips.

He grinned and turned briefly to wave before he exited. “Don’t forget t’eat, kitten,” he called.

But now that Harry admitted he was in love with her, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched while she worked. Her eyes darted to his side of the room often trying to see if he was staring at her. He wasn’t each time which only made her feel guilty and worse. Maybe her standoffish disposition deterred him rapidly. It was probably for the best, anyway. For a lot of reasons.

Was it disappointment she was feeling from his lack of attention? That didn’t seem right.

“Harry!” Val called from behind her. “Are you enjoying your first day?”

“Immensely,” did his eyes drift over to her and her desk? She stared at her screen pretending to work while she listened.

“Did you just move to town?” Rachel was much further towards the front of the room. He turned to give her his full attention. It made her heart skip a beat with how kind it was. His politeness was a massive turn on.

Even if she wasn’t going to let herself admire Harry from across the way just because they worked together.

“I did, m’actually looking for a place t’live if y’know of any places. M’at a hotel until m’on m’feet.”

Her heart started beating about two hundred times a minute because she knew what was going to happen before it did. She could feel the bubbling excitement from her friends on either end of the room. “Mary Poppins has a room!” Rachel shouted.

Her cheeks turned bright red.

“Her roommate just moved in with her boyfriend like last week! How perfect is that, Mary? You were all worried about finding a normal roommate. I even did his background check, so I know he’s good to go!”

Harry chuckled. “Um... who’s Mary Poppins?”

The whole office giggled. “Miss Poppins, did you not introduce yourself?” Someone else called. Hunter snickered across from her and she glared at him.

This was mortifying. Wasn’t this supposed to be a mortifying day for Harry? His first day and all? How come she was being teased? She took a deep breath and turned from her monitor to make direct eye contact with Harry who was already looking at her. Like he knew exactly who Mary Poppins was without his coworkers needing to tell him. “It’s a two-bedroom apartment. One bath. There’s a nice kitchen, all new appliances.”

Harry’s jaw dropped as she spoke. Like he was surprised it really was her. “Val looks like she’s going to bounce out of her seat,” Hunter smirked as he whispered under his breath to her while she tried not to panic at the thought of living with someone so unbelievably attractive and just admitted he was in love with her.

“Tell him about your living room!” Val sounded like she was bouncing.

“Water’s included.”

“She’s the cutest interior designer. It’s so homey it feels like a warm hug when you walk in. Like living with a rom-com character,” Rachel continued.

“Rent would be about twelve hundred,” she ignored her so-called friends.

“She bakes something once a week too, so it always smells like sugar and Christmas. It’s seriously the coziest place I’ve ever been,” Val kept going.

“In-unit washer and dryer.”

“Then she brings whatever she makes for all of us here to devour. It’s incredible,” Rachel’s sentiment was answered with a hum of agreement from the rest of her coworkers. She even heard someone say remember her apple turnover pastries?

“You get your own parking spot,” she tilted her head and looked at the ceiling to see if there was anything else she had forgotten. “I think that’s it,” she met Harry’s eyes once more, holding his gaze briefly before she turned back to her monitor.

“Harry you should totally move in, you will fall in love with the place.”

“M’sure I would,” he chuckled. “Could I see it sometime?” He asked. His attention never strayed from her face. She could sense his gaze on the side of her cheek the whole time her friends embarrassed the crap out of her. “Whenever you’re free. Doesn’t have t’be today.”

“Today’s fine!” Rachel assured him. “She doesn’t do anything on Mondays.”

She rolled her eyes. “Today is fine,” she repeated and smiled sweetly. She scribbled on a sticky note and headed to his desk to drop the address off with him. Then she made her way toward the restroom because she needed to get out of the room. Needed away from everyone teasing her good-naturedly.

But mostly so she could keep herself from telling Harry that she was quite, very possibly, in love with him as well.

True to her friends’ words, the place was cozy as hell. There was a basket of throw blankets next to a sofa that looked like it was comfier than his bed currently in his storage unit. Artwork dotted the walls, board games stowed below her TV, and curtains pulled back from the windows letting in the afternoon sunlight. It felt like a home.

There were three boxes in the middle of the living room between the coffee table and the TV, but it was otherwise spotless. “You’re very clean.”

She nodded. “I know, I’m sorry.”

He chuckled. “Y’don’t need t’apologize,” he put his hands in his pockets, so he didn’t do something crazy like hold her hand.

“I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, is all. You can be... messy... I won’t have a freak out or anything. Unless you leave food in the sink then we get bugs. Then I’ll be kind of freaked out.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t do that. I like t’think m’pretty clean myself,” he assured her. “I also...” he took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his head. “Y’friends kinda put y’on the spot. I know what I admitted at lunch was kinda out of... out of the blue,” he bit his lip. “Y’don’t have t’feel obligated t’house me.”

“I don’t,” she promised. “I need a roommate and like Val said,” she shrugged. “She did your background check so I assume you won’t kill me, probably. At least not because you’re a serial killer. Maybe because I’m too clean.”

He shook his head with a smile on his lips making the most adorable dimple dent his cheek. She wanted to stick her tongue in it. “Thank you, m’really appreciative.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome, Harry. Sorry we’ll be around each other a lot.”

That didn’t seem like a bad thing at all. “I think it’ll be okay. We didn’t really talk much today,” he shrugged. “If y’get sick of me, m’sure I can find another place t’live,” he winked.

She rolled her eyes. “Won’t be necessary. But okay,” she sighed. “You can move in whenever,” she grabbed her keys from the breakfast bar where she ate most of her meals and pulled a key off the ring and handed it to him. “I have a second job some nights, but if you give me a heads up, I can help you move your stuff.”

“S’very kind of you, kitten, but y’don’t need t’do that. M’not going t’have all that much stuff. M’friend Louis lives not too far from here. He’ll come help me.”

“Offer stands,” she assured him.

Harry’s eyes scanned the room again and landed on the three boxes once more. “Are those your old roommate’s boxes?” He asked.

She nodded. “Two of them. I’m supposed to bring them to her, but they’re super heavy so I’m like... working up my mental and physical strength to bring them to my car. It’s going to be two trips and I’m just being a little lazy about it.”

“I can bring them down,” he grabbed one. It was definitely heavy. It was evident Harry had defined biceps and triceps practically outlined by the pretty purple button down, but it was manageable for him while a struggle for her. “Still probably two trips,” he nodded.

“Oh, I can take—”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “Don’t want you t’hurt yourself. Let me,” he offered and snagged her car keys off the counter.

“Oh, thank you that’s... thank you,” she swallowed, feeling grateful.

“Not a problem,” he assured her and left immediately.

When he returned after putting the second box in her car to return her keys, she had opened the third box and begun laying out a bunch of fall items to decorate their place. “Do you mind decorations?”

“Of course not,” he smiled. “Can I help?”

She blinked at him and tilted her head. “Um... I can handle it. If you need to pack or go... get dinner or something.”

“M’fine,” he smiled, setting her keys on the counter and glanced around the room. He noted there were hooks screwed into the wall at various points. “Can I hang something for you? M’good for height.”

Harry wasn’t that much taller than her, she was definitely taller than the average woman, but it still meant she needed to drag out a stepstool when she wanted to put up her art and decorations. “That would be awesome,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, kitten,” he smiled.

Harry had a dreamy smile on his face as they talked and got to know one another. He hadn’t brought up that he was in love with her. Nor did he make her feel the least bit uncomfortable. Like it had never happened.

Why did it feel like she was disappointed about the prospect of that?

Maybe he wasn’t in love with her. Maybe the initial reaction of seeing someone roughly the same age as him at work made his senses a bit wild for a moment.

No. She wasn’t disappointed. Everything about Harry being in love with her would be a recipe for disaster and it was for the best that he didn’t fall in love with her.

It was just something a little bit out of the blue to say to the only person who was single in the office. Everyone had a significant other they had met within the office or elsewhere. She was the last single person. The same was true with her friend group as well. Everyone in her life had been paired off except for her.

He was her coworker. He was going to be her roommate.

But right as he left, he sent her heart into a frenzy. They were by the door. She wanted to make sure he got to his car safely even though it was a safe neighborhood. It was just the way she was. “Will you go on a date with me?” He asked.

She stared at him in shock, her lips parting like she was mid-sentence, and he had interrupted. “Seriously?” She giggled reflexively, but her cheeks felt hot. They had a lovely evening together getting to know each other. Harry helped with all the decorations and yes, in its own way it was a bit intimate. But he couldn’t possibly think that it was a good idea to date his roommate.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Harry, I can’t date my roommate.”

“Pretty sure s’how most rom-coms start,” he smiled. “S’okay. I’ll ask again later. Have a nice night,” he grinned with a wave and walked toward his car. Leaving her jaw slack, as she watched her roommate head off into the night.

Harry moved in later that week. He asked her to come with him to his storage unit to see if there was anything she would want in the apartment, but she had pretty much everything. It seemed silly to bring a double of everything when she owned all of it already.

But Harry would forever be grateful and indebted to his sister for her kindness as he watched her examine some of his belongings. One in particular caught her eye making him think that he had won the lottery with how excited she was.

She couldn’t believe Harry had a stand mixer and she was nearly in awe of all the attachments to help bake and cook easier. “I’ve always wanted one of these. They’re so expensive,” she blinked. “How do you have one?”

“M'sister got one when she got married,” he explained. “But she doesn’t bake and said it was taking up space in her kitchen.”

“Can we bring it to the apartment? Do you mind?”

The way her eyes lit up at the sight of it? Pure joy and happiness? Yeah. It was going to the apartment. If he ever moved out, he would probably leave it with her too just so she could always look that happy. “Course. Anything else?”

She looked around the organized storage room sifting through the items in different bins while Harry searched for some of his own trinkets that he thought he would want after his initial move. His room and bathroom items had already been moved in with the help of Louis. “This is stunning,” her voice full of awe once more, grabbing a print from behind a shelf. Harry wasn’t sure where it was from. He thought his mum purchased it to make his old place feel like home. “This would look amazing in the living room.”

“Bring it,” he smiled. She tucked it under her arm and continued searching. Harry grabbed a few more odds and ends and she plucked out a few more things she thought would work with the apartment’s décor and mainly helpful kitchen tools.

“It’s your place too, Harry,” she reminded him. “Is there anything you want there?”

He smiled, shook his head. “Y’seem t’have everything, kitten. M’not picky.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a guest,” she pouted. “Like you should bring these,” she gestured to pictures of his friends and family in a bin. “I can move some of mine to my room so you can put them up.”

He grinned. “Sure,” he shrugged. “If y’think s’what I should do.”

“Alright, could we come back in a few weeks and see if there’s anything else you want once you’re settled a bit?”

“Course.”

They gathered as much as they could, Harry would have to come back for the stand mixer. Harry closed the trunk and moved to open the passenger door for her before her hand fully pulled it out of the way. He waited until she was tucked into the seat safely and he handed her the car keys. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” she smiled.

“Hey kitten,” he said leaning against the door before he left. “Will y’go on a date with me?”

“Harry,” she laughed the same way she did the last time he asked her. The same way she laughed when he told her he was in love with her. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly,” he smiled at the delight on her face. The pretty pink color rising to her cheeks. “Will you?”

“I can’t go on a date with you, Harry,” she looked at him with a bit of sympathetic pity. Like he was ridiculous for asking. Again. Which he was.

“Then I’ll ask again another time,” he shrugged, closed her car door, and headed to get the stand mixer that made her happy.

“Hey Poppy, did y’want t’go get lunch with me?” Her eyes didn’t move from her screen. “Poppy,” he repeated. “Poppy,” he sang. She glanced around and realized she was the only one in the room.

“Me?”

He chuckled. “Yes, you.”

Her eyebrows pinched together. “Why did you call me Poppy?”

“Well, m’assuming s’your favorite flower,” it was a safe bet since there was a small bouquet right beside her. “Also, everyone else calls y’Mary, Poppins, or Miss Poppins. Which I still don’t know why, but I wanted t’be different. Want you t’know s’me when y’hear me talking t’you.”

Her heart raced. Harry was utterly adorable. “I see. Sorry,” she smirked.

“Anyway,” he came over to stand by her desk. “Do y’want t’get lunch?”

“Harry, I told you I don’t date.”

“M’not asking as a date. M’asking as your coworker who has never seen y’eat a bite of food while you’re at work. M’asking as your concerned roommate who worries y’don’t eat until y’get home for dinner. And I don’t even want t’think ‘bout how long y’go without eating when you’re at your second job.”

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. “I don’t go out to lunch with everyone,” she explained. “I don’t know if you noticed, but people always seem to need me while I’m here,” she gestured to her desk. “Lunch is the only time I get a minute to myself. And I can get caught up a bit before the afternoon and everyone comes back.”

“Well do you bring lunch?” He asked, his frown deepening still worried she wasn’t eating.

“I do, it’s in the breakroom. I’ll get it in a minute,” she promises. “Go, you’re wasting your lunch hour.”

“Okay,” he sighed. He stopped in the doorway of the entrance to the office. “Hey Poppy,” he smiled.

“Yeah?” She asked without looking up from her screen.

“Now that y’mention it though, will y’go out with me?”

At home, Harry took the trash out because he said it was a boy-job and she shouldn’t be out in the dark by a dumpster. It made his skin crawl just to think about it. He made her promise that she wouldn’t take out the trash and he didn’t mind if he had to go out twice in one day. She thought it was ridiculous. But she agreed.

He cleaned up after himself checking with her to see if it was up to her standard. Even though she assured him he didn’t have to meet her standard. His cologne overtook their bathroom, and it was so comforting she took long hot showers at night just to amplify the scent filling her nose. Harry stretched across the sofa and scrolled through various show options but often didn’t find something that piqued his interest. Instead, he would put on some background noise and read on an eReader. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration.

Harry bought groceries and didn’t ask for any money from them. “M’sure you’ll buy stuff too,” he shrugged. Plus, she already had all the cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, dishwasher pods, and the like. Harry hardly had anything useful so buying groceries was the least he could do.

Except the stand mixer. People moaned about her cookies. Harry got to see her make them firsthand and the very scene with an apron around her body, her smile bright as she tested various stages of the dough, it did wonders for Harry. Some kind of nearly pornographic idea that only Harry would think was pornographic. “Will you try one?” She asked, hope in her voice.

Was he supposed to say no to her? Absolutely not. So, he tried one. “Go on a date with me,” he groaned.

“Because of the cookies?”

“No! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But s’not usually because of cookies.”

She laughed. “I don’t date, Harry.”

He frowned, faking his disappointment (although he was the slightest bit disappointed). “I’ll try again,” he shrugged and took three more cookies from her cooling rack before returning to the sofa to read.

“Mary!” Val sang. “Do you have the stain stick?” She called from behind. She opened a drawer, eyes unmoving from her screen and held it out behind her for it to be passed back by her other coworkers. Harry chuckled.

It killed her that she knew his chuckle without looking. “S’impressive,” he murmured quietly. But she could hear it from across the way.

“That’s nothing,” Rachel said from the other end of the room. “Miss Poppins,” she smiled delightedly. “I have a missing button,” she told her.

That was the other drawer, a small little sewing kit to fix a button.

“Hair tie!” Someone called from the other side of the room.

“Lint roller!”

They all called out items and she had every single one.

“Do you have anything stronger to put in this coffee?” Their boss was walking up the aisle and paused at her desk. She smirked, opened the bottom drawer and placed a mini bottle of liquid on the edge of the desk. The whole office laughed as he snatched it and headed to his office. “You’re getting a raise, Poppins,” he called.

Hunter turned to look at Harry. “I gave her the nickname,” he explained.

“I get it,” he chuckled.

“If you need it, chances are she has it.”

“If she doesn’t, she adds it,” Val explained.

Her smile was soft. Harry thought it was sweet how her coworkers adored her. It was clear she was loved by them. Her thoughtfulness was admirable. Harry wondered how he was supposed to top that. No wonder she didn’t want to go out with him. Why would she want to go out with anyone when she was ten times sweeter than anyone she knew?

Her best friend Josephine (Joey) was helping her in the bathroom when Harry got home from the gym one Friday evening. “Holy hell you said he was cute, not hot,” she gaped.

“Aw, y’think m’cute, Poppy?” He asked winking at her. Her cheeks flushed red, making it so she didn’t need any of the blush she was putting on her cheeks. He leaned against the doorframe; arms crossed over his chest. He was sweaty and really wanted to get in the shower, but he didn't mind a bit of time to stare at his sweet roommate.

“I should have known. Only a man that uses such high-end cologne would be this hot.”

“Didn’t you buy Matt high-end cologne?”

“Hence why I think he’s so hot,” Joey beamed. Her friend laughed quietly, shaking her head as she finished with her makeup.

“Sorry Harry, we’ll be out of the way in a minute.”

“Take y’time. M’not in a rush.”

“Oh, you should come out!” Joey squealed. “Harry, please! She’s always by herself keeping an eye on us it would be nice to have someone keep her company!”

“Thanks, Mom. I don’t need a babysitter,” she rolled her eyes. “No offense, Harry.”

“S’okay,” he chuckled. “I don’t want t’impose. Plus m’in need of a shower.”

“Don’t let us stop you,” Joey smiled widely gesturing to the shower.

“Can you not?” She rolled her eyes and looked at Harry with apologetic eyes.

He laughed again and shook his head. “Y’can call if y’need something,” he assured her.

“Harry, please come out! You can meet us there!” Joey said again.

She looked at him with a soft smile. A look in her eyes said he wasn’t going to get out of it. Not if he didn’t have a really good reason. But truthfully? He didn’t need a reason to get out of it. Spending time with her outside of work, outside of the apartment, and errands like the grocery store and running to the post office had him excited to see her in another frame of light. Did she let loose? He would love to dance with her. Even if it was only as friends, roommates, fuck as coworkers even. How did she act around her friends versus her coworkers? God, he was obsessed.

“I can wait for you,” she suggested, her voice soft. Harry smiled.

“Thanks, Poppy.”

Her eyes scanned for her friends as she sat on a stool at a high top beside Harry. It was like watching a teacher on a field trip counting heads to make sure everyone was still present. The table was littered with drinks all of which she minded just as intently.

Harry just gazed at her as he sipped his drink. He helped as needed pushing drinks toward her friends as they came back from dancing. “Y’don’t dance?”

“Oh...maybe later. I’m not very good,” she admitted. “I like dancing with Joey because she’s worse than me.”

She caught the eye of one of her friends, Hailey, approaching and she reached into her purse strapped around the front of her for something. Harry watched as Hailey made it to her. “Thanks Mary,” she gushed taking the bandage from her and made her way for the bathroom. It was pretty wild she could anticipate whatever her friends needed. It was like at work. Harry was a bit awestruck and looked at her with a surprised expression. She shrugged and continued sipping her drink.

Jaylen was next. Joey’s twin brother; they had the same facial expressions--mainly the smile that Joey had on her face when she suggested Harry shower in front of her and his favorite person.

The same smile appeared on his face and told Harry he was going to say something just as delightful as Joey had said of Harry. Sure enough, Jaylen draped an arm around her and leaned into her ear to whisper something over the sound of the music. She rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully. His face turned serious and he whispered something again.

She frowned. Then reached into her purse again. Out came a tampon which he slid discreetly into his pocket and then she glanced at his outfit twisting her lips to the side in disappointment.

After a brief thought, she pulled her purse over her body and laid it on the table. The long cardigan she wore came off next, leaving her in a black tank top that tucked into her jeans. It hugged her curves like a glove making Harry’s mouth water and he glanced away worried he would look like a creep. He finished his beer before Jaylen grinned and thanked her profusely and walked away. She took a deep breath and put her purse back into position before wrapping one arm in front of he protectively, gripping the front of her shoulder.

“Are y’cold?” He asked.

She shook her head.

But Harry was sitting beside her. He could see the goosebumps on her skin. She selflessly gave her sweater to her friend for whatever reason (Harry wasn’t totally sure, but he suspected it was menstrual related). But she was going to pretend like she wasn’t cold? Harry was definitely in love. In case it wasn’t obvious by the moment he met her. Boldly, Harry reached below her bar stool and tugged it toward him. She jostled a bit but he maintained her balance. Then he draped his arm around her body pulling her toward him further and he couldn’t help but notice she didn’t pull away. She didn’t make a sound and her facial expression didn’t change.

But Harry felt her body relax into his side, her head dipping ever so slightly toward his shoulder. He smiled softly and brought his lips closer to her ear so she could hear. “Y’don’t have t’lie t’me, Poppy. M’your roommate and all. I know y’like the apartment a toasty temperature.”

She smirked and tilted her head up. Their eyes connected, their mouths only two inches apart. “Thank you,” she said kindly.

Harry really enjoyed holding her.

At the end of the night, she rounded up her friends ensuring those who said they could drive actually could and if they couldn’t she called for Ubers until everyone was safely on their way home. Jaylen’s girlfriend, Maya, had her green sweater wrapped around her white pants. She thanked her profusely, drunkenly.

Joey and Matt waved goodbye. “Bye Hot Roommate,” Joey called waving to Harry specifically.

“Jesus, Joey,” Matt rolled his eyes. “Nice meeting you Harry,” he called.

Once everyone was gone, she rubbed her hands on her arms to keep the blood flowing and warming her skin. Harry wrapped his arm over her shoulders again and tucked her into his side as they headed for her parked car a couple blocks away. “Go on a date with me," he spoke straight forward. Hoping if he didn't look, it wouldn't seem like as a massive deal--almost like he would trick her into a date.

She elbowed him. “I can’t go out with a coworker, Harry. Or my roommate for that matter.”

He shrugged. “I’ll ask later,” he boldly kissed the top of her head. Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind. Harry was sure to keep that in his head for future reference. He would most definitely be kissing her again. “You’re an extremely sweet girl, Poppy. Selfless, lovely, kind,” he listed. “Whoever y’end up with, m’going t’be very jealous,” he assured her.

She snorted and laughed quietly under her breath. “Thank you, Harry.”

For months it continued with similar routines, feelings, and questions. They grew closer as friends. At work he admired her from his desk from across the office. When she didn’t go to lunch, he reminded her to eat and not work too hard. At home, he grumbled that her loophole of taking the trash out in the daytime was not the point of his promise. He still bought groceries each week trying to figure out all the things she enjoyed eating.

He helped her clean the apartment and when it was getting cooler outside, she asked to join him at the gym. Her outfits were cute and made guys stare at her as she worked out, unbeknownst to her. She asked for help from Harry which made him feel like he won an Olympic medal. His face was smug as the men in the gym finally stopped looking at her. Thinking Harry was lucky enough to be hers.

It made him happy to help her figure out new machines and with her sets of weightlifting (even though she didn’t like it).

Everywhere they went, people ogled her. She was so kind. Little kids would smile at her in grocery store lines and wave like it was a game of peekaboo. Dogs tugged on their leashes hoping to get a pet from her around the loop she ran in the neighborhood. Their elderly next door neighbor tried telling her a hundred times that she had a grandson her age and he would love to date her (that one drove Harry the most crazy).

She had her head leaning in her palm as she watched the stand mixer beat the brownie ingredients like it was the most interesting thing in the world. But Harry was watching her; so he was, in fact, watching the most interesting thing in the world.

He leaned against the wall just beside the kitchen entrance. “Poppy?” He asked. She looked up at him. “Go on a date with me, please," his expression soft.

She was finally getting used to it. She gave herself a lot of credit. It was pretty crazy she hadn’t caved yet. Harry was so lovely. Not to mention attractive. At the gym, his muscles rippled and glistened with sweat. The outline of every abdominal muscle was sinful. It was a miracle she didn’t drop her own weights or fall on the treadmill when she caught sight of him. It drove her crazy that the women there gazed at him longingly; like he was something to eat. But was she really any better?

She smiled, the blush on her cheeks still prominent, but not as deep. She was used to her heart skipping a beat, the butterflies fluttering in her stomach each time he asked. “That's very sweet, Harry. But I don’t date.”

It was six months since he met her when he finally asked. “Why not?”

She shrugged. He thought she wasn’t going to say anything more, so he frowned, sighed, and headed for the living room to get back to his book. “I just don’t date, Harry. I like being friends,” she told him.

He grumbled something about still being friends even if they dated but she either didn’t hear or pretended not to hear. Either way, it was quiet for a few beats. “If I hadn’t told you I was in love with you that first day, would that have changed your answer?”

She giggled and shook her head. “No.”

“Okay,” he shrugged. Ever determined. He smiled widely at her. “I’ll keep asking then.”

When she got dressed up for a family wedding and clicked down the hall in heels and a dress that flowed over her like she was the bride (only wearing green of course, not white). Her hair was curled and pinned so prettily Harry thought he was seeing a real angel in the flesh. “Oh, come on, Poppy,” he groaned and covered his eyes with his hand dramatically. “S’not fighting fair,” he frowned.

She grinned, her cheeks warming more than they had in a while. “I look okay?”

“Stunning,” he grumbled. “M’so jealous I won’t get t’dance with you,” he pouted.

She shook her head. “I don’t usually dance at weddings when I go alone,” she explained.

“Well, y’should’ve told me. I would’ve been your date.”

“Harry—”

“Platonic date,” he rolled his eyes. “This is worse than when y’wore that pencil skirt t’work,” he reminded her. She snickered and shook her head while she looked at her phone. She sucked her lip into her mouth and sighed wincing slightly and then turned to her room again. After several minutes she returned in a different dress. She was equally stunning, but she looked a little forlorn. “An outfit change?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” she shrugged. “My sister is wearing green.”

Harry frowned. “So?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just...” she shrugged. “It’s alright. I like this dress just fine.”

But it wasn’t green. She looked so pretty in green. It complimented her skin tone so perfectly. She looked stunning. Like she was a queen. “But—”

“Seriously, Harry. It’s fine.”

The muted purple dress looked lovely on her as well. But Harry thought the green made her look otherworldly. He wanted the happiness back in her eye. The light that sparked when he complimented her. “Well when can y’wear it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Season’s almost over for a wintergreen like that,” she shrugged. “Maybe next year.”

Harry frowned. But then he had a wonderful idea to help both her dress and himself. “Go on a date with me, Poppy.”

The smile reappeared on her face, and she shook her head. “I can’t, Harry.”

“Please? Do it for the sake of that dress,” he pleaded. “We don’t even have t’call it a date. An outing. An adventure. Whatever y’want. Y’jus’ need t’wear it before y’can’t.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Harry. But I can’t.”

He sighed. “You’re welcome, Poppy.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow? I’ll steal you a cupcake. I heard they come from this bakery that I love and if it doesn’t make it home to you, then we’re going to have to go there anyway.”

It didn’t replace a date. But he liked the way she smiled. And going to a bakery together was inherently a couple-y thing to do. So he would take what he could get.

“Sure, Poppy. I’d love to.”

She didn’t need people. Needing people had only ever broken her heart. She never asked for help ever. Well...only when they were at the gym but that was a safety thing more than anything.

Even when she should have asked.

Harry didn’t notice until he drove her to a house party that her friends didn’t invite her too. She was sleepy, it was obvious. Leggings, oversized sweater. Her hair was braided loosely and falling apart because she had woken in the middle of the night to answer a message. Harry was in the middle of a good book. Unable to put it down when she ventured into the living room. A yawn falling from her lips. Her eyes barely open. It took several questions and repeated convincing to let him drive her since he was awake, and it looked like she was going to pass out while standing.

Harry insisted on coming in even as she told him to stay in the car, but he refused. She found her friends, her voice was soft as she encouraged Jaylen to leave. A little over his limit and Joey and Maya were about just as gone and unable to convince Jaylen to go with them. A guy from across the room made a joke about Mommy coming to save him. As her pugnacious friend made a turn to deal with the offensive person, she stopped him. She was quick, grabbed his arm, and held tight.

When they returned to the apartment she corralled her friends into their sleeping arrangements. Maya and Jaylen in her bed, Joey on the sofa. “Sorry I took your reading spot,” she whispered as she tucked a blanket around Joey. She snagged another blanket and curled into the only other chair in the living room. “Thank you for driving,” she smiled, closing her sleepy eyes.

“You’re gonna sleep there?” He asked. She nodded, barely moving. Like she was already half-way to dreaming. Harry snagged her out of the chair, cradling her and bringing her to his room.

“Harry,” she protested.

“We’re grown adults,” he reminded her. “We can share a bed without it being weird. S’like a hotel room.”

“Harry,” she repeated, her objection evident in her tone. “I can’t—”

“M’not letting y’sleep in a chair or on the floor. So, it’s m’bed or y’aren’t sleeping,” he shrugged.

She sighed. Too tired to oppose any further, thankfully. Harry laid her atop the covers and draped another blanket over her. He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and slid beneath his sheets and glanced at the sleeping angel beside him. He smiled. He liked the way she looked in his bed. Liked the way she seemed comfortable and sleepy beside him. His bed felt warm with her beside him. Even though she wasn’t touching him. She smelled good in his room too.

“Night, Harry,” she mumbled.

“Good night, Poppy,” he answered, reached out, squeezed her hand before releasing it so she wouldn’t break a piece of his heart by telling him they shouldn’t.

It was easy to fall asleep with her beside him.

It was even easier to dream of her with her intoxicating presence in his room as well.

Harry noticed how drained she seemed when the weather continued to get warmer. Her friends all had birthdays around the same time, and she was a mess of scheduling and reserving birthday dinners and planning things for all of them. Did Harry miss her birthday? He would have to ask. He hoped he didn’t. He hoped her friends would take the time to plan for her the way she did for them.

Work was approaching a busy season, and everyone kept coming to her more and more throughout the day. He could see the anxiety on her face as her growing to-do list looked nearly unmanageable. Harry tried to go to others if he had issues. But every time he asked someone else a question, they called out for Mary Poppins, and she would glance up and look at Harry with a sad smile asking how she could help.

Harry was worried she wasn’t eating her lunch. When everyone else left, her eyes were hidden behind those glasses, her face concentrating and relieved for the reprieve from people calling her name for help with work or needing something like a pen or a screwdriver. Sometimes Harry hated his job. Not because it was difficult. But it seemed like everyone in the office was incompetent. Or weaponizing their incompetence and foisting their tasks onto the lovely woman who would never say no to them.

Her friends did it too. With all the planning and such.

The poor thing looked exhausted. She didn’t join Harry at the gym and her second job seemed like the only time she got to herself. “I miss reading,” she grumbled when she got home late from her shift. She kicked her shoes off and flopped onto the opposite end of the sofa. “My eyes are exhausted though,” she rubbed them for good measure. “I think I would fall asleep if I tried to read. I think I need to wake up earlier and read.”

Harry snorted. “Don’t burn yourself out, Poppy,” he rolled his eyes. “What are y’reading?”

“I’ve been trying t’read this book for months,” she pulled it from the shelf below the coffee table. He had seen it tucked there for a while. He grabbed it from her, skimmed the back of the book, and opened to the first chapter.

Then, he started reading.

Out loud.

“Harry,” she whispered her eyes wide.

“Yeah?” He asked, pointing at the sentence where he stopped and looked at her curiously. “M’starting over, because I want t’know what’s happening,” he smiled. Her face looked so shocked and confused. Sad even. Like she didn’t know what emotion she was supposed to feel.

“You don’t have to—”

He shook his head, and continued reading before she could finish her sentence.

Harry read three chapters before he carried her sleeping self to bed.

Something changed in Harry. He almost turned into a stalker. He tracked her movements and routines for a week. He knew most of them. But he really tracked them. The daily ones were easiest. She went for a run in the morning, he followed her lead and didn’t say a word. He went to her favorite coffee shop and paid for her favorite drink for a week’s worth of drinks in advance.

He wished they carpooled, but she was so busy. So he timed his arrival so that he was at the entrance door holding it open for her. When everyone left to get lunch, he heated up her food and brought it to her desk before leaving silently.

One day, there was a note on her dashboard saying she had a full tank of gas. When she arrived home after her second job, she noted her spare car key was on Harry’s key ring. At home, her laundry was in the wash. The shirts she didn’t like to put in the dryer were hung in the bathroom.

Harry could see it. She was cracking. It was the first time someone had done something for her it seemed. The first time someone so selflessly did things for her, anticipated her needs the way she anticipated everyone else’s.

Her throat felt tight as she looked at Harry in the kitchen, making her favorite dinner—a soup that took hours and hours to make.

He didn’t even know it was her birthday that day which made her heart feel sicker than ever.

“Poppy,” he smiled sweetly placing a bowl in front of her exhausted figure.

“Yeah?” She whispered.

If she wasn't so in awe, she would have realized where his tone was. What was coming next. “Go on a date with me, kitten.”

“I can’t.”

“S’not so hard,” he assured her. “You sit across from me and be yourself because m’already in love with you,” he reminded her sweetly. An impish grin on his pretty pink lips. That dimple she wanted to sink her tongue into on display. “I tell y’how stunning y’look, I pay for you t’eat. I feed you a dessert of your choosing that you’re probably too full t’eat and then I can kiss you wherever y’want. Lips, cheek, forehead,” he shrugged. “Then we come home, and I’ll read a chapter of your book. Y’can decide if y’want t’go on a second date.”

She giggled, her cheeks red. “I can’t, Harry,” she looked at him apologetically, but she felt herself melting as much as the soup warmed her insides. It was ridiculous to eat soup in the middle of the summer. But Harry made it for her anyway.

His heart deflated a little. He wasn't kidding. He was definitely in love. He had to be because there was no other way he could explain the feelings he had for her. Someone so thoughtful, so pretty, sweet, and funny.

Harry had asked her out at least a hundred times. Around Christmas, she got her hair cut and he always found her beautiful, but he asked her almost every day following her new hair style for a month straight. Each time she said she couldn't. She didn't date.

For the first time in the near year since he had first asked her, first met her, he realized she said she can’t go on a date with him. She didn’t date. That he was crazy.

Not that she didn’t want to. She didn’t say no.

Hope bloomed inside him.

She didn’t need anything. She didn’t need anybody. It was clear someone or maybe many had let her down so many times. He watched her doing everything she could to make this party as nice as humanly possible for Hailey. Not that Hailey didn’t deserve it, but no one had done anything like this for her. Harry only found out it was her birthday after the fact, and he felt like shit for it. Even though she assured him that was one of the best birthdays she ever had.

All he did was make her soup.

She deserved so much more.

It almost seemed too obvious that they hadn’t done anything for her remotely as lovely as she did.

“You’re staring, Styles,” she murmured without looking up from the chair while he lounged on the sofa.

“Go on a date with me,” he smiled.

She blushed, shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

“You haven’t said no.”

"I've said no about a hundred thousand times, Harry," she rolled her eyes.

Why was it now? Why did he want to tell her what he was thinking about the whole situation now? But it was in his chest. He had to say it. Had to tell her.

“No, you’ve never said no,” he shook his head and looked at her head on, while she continued looking at her to do list, her planner. Her poor neglected book waiting to be read by Harry because her tired eyes couldn’t. She looked up at him and smirked. Ready to protest once more, but Harry shook his head again. “I remember everything you've said t'me. I would remember a 'no,' it would probably kill me t’hear y’say, no kitten. Y'call me crazy, y'say y'can’t or that y'don’t date. Never, not once, have y'ever said y'don’t want t'go on a date with me. Nor a flat out no. So m'going t’keep asking until y'say y'don’t want to. Because I think you do want t'go out with me but for some reason y'don't want t'allow yourself t'be happy. T'let someone else in. M'not going t'stop asking. Not until I hear y'say "Harry Styles I would rather die than go on a date with you. I never want to go out with you." Maybe that makes me conceited or creepy. M’sure it does make me crazy. But I don’t care. I want t'go on a date with you. I want t'go on a million dates with you, actually. So m'not giving up until y'call me creepy or y'say y'don’t want to.”

She swallowed like there was something stuck in her throat. Her eyes didn't move from her lap.

"Kitten," he murmured. She didn’t look up. “Poppy,” he whispered. She finally met his green-eyed gaze again. His expression soft, pleading. “Go on a date with me,” his voice was soft. Harry swore his heart stopped beating because if he was wrong, if she really was saying no all those times, he wasn't sure he could ever stop asking her. The idea he would never get to take her out to eat and order her favorite dessert. He wouldn't see a movie and wrap his arm around her shoulders and that was completely unfair. He wanted to offer his jacket to her when it rained and hold her hand while walking through a museum. "Poppy," he repeated.

She bit her lip, her lips opening and closing like she wasn't sure which word was going to pop out. “I can’t,” she whispered. Her eyes looking at him in a way that he could read right through her. They screamed at him, please don’t stop asking me.

As if he could ever. Harry smiled. "Okay," he shrugged, hope and adoration for her flooding him. "I'll ask again tomorrow."

A sad smile graced her face. "You're crazy," she whispered again.

"Only 'bout you, Poppy.”

Harry felt like he was getting sick. Probably due to the sweet girl in his apartment who had worn herself so thin and weary that she had inadvertently brought illness home to him. His head was killing him. His pillow was calling for him the way he wished his favorite stubborn woman would call him.

He didn't even know if she was home. But honestly, he was glad. If she knew he was sick, she would dote on him. Even if she was starting to fell unwell. The thoughts of her were never too far from his mind. He would never be too sick, too lost, too far away from her that she could leave his thoughts.

Sleeping was one of his favorite hobbies because he loved to see her in his dreams. Loved to see the unaffected, carefree, beautiful, stubborn woman. The angel that enjoyed affection both giving and receiving.

It was his nightly dream. The one where she snuggled with him, and it was like they had been together twenty years and not zero. The one where he could taste her lips (even if in his dream she tasted like nothing) he knew it was wrong. She probably tasted like chocolate or caramel or something deliriously sweet.

Unfortunately, his phone vibrated below his pillow pulling him from his perfect beautiful dream.

“Harry?”

He squinted at his phone. Head aching, throat sore. Curious as to why he didn’t have the number saved. “Speaking.”

“Oh, thank god,” the voice sighed. “It’s Joey,” she said. “Harry. Something’s wrong. She won’t stop crying and she won’t say anything but your name.”

He leapt out of bed. Illness forgotten even if he was dizzy. His heart thudded like a chorus of drums, and he didn’t even grab shoes as he raced out of his room, snagging his wallet and keys off the counter as he exited the apartment.

He listened to Joey say a few more things. Something about being out at a club. She never left the bar area. There was no way someone had hurt her. But Harry drove through the night with his heart in his throat like someone had hurt her. He wasn’t sure seeing her would even calm him. He knew where Joey lived, fortunately, so he sped as quickly as he could. The ache in his head and his throat was lost behind him along the drive.

He didn’t knock as he hurried barefoot into Joey’s apartment. Matt was coming from the kitchen and making his way down the hall. He looked at Harry sadly as he approached the main room.

“Poppy?” he whispered as he entered the room, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold herself together. "Kitten," he frowned and knelt in front of her. He picked her face up between his and he scanned her looking for signs of injury. Anxiety was in every inch of his body. But she fell into his arms before he could look any longer. Sobbing harder than when he entered. “M'here. M'here, baby. It’s okay. M'here," he kissed the top of her head, cupping the back of her head with one hand. The other arm winding around her and squeezing her tight to his body. “Oh kitten,” he sighed, sadness coating his voice. His heart ached. Like it was going to snap in half if she cried any longer. “M’sorry, baby. M'here. S’okay. Tell me. Please. I’ll make it better,” he promised.

Her sobs continued, like she was unable to speak. "Harry," she whimpered.

"M'here, Poppy, s'okay," he assured her even if it wasn't. "Baby," he frowned pulling away to look at her her tearful eyes. He tugged her back to his embrace and continued to soothe her. He rubbed his hand up and down her back hoping it was comforting as he hoped it was.

Harry caught Joey's eye, who looked over from the entryway and smiled weakly.

"You good?" She mouthed. Harry nodded and when he glanced back, her friend was gone.

Harry kissed the top of her head for the hundredth time. He continued rubbing his hand down her spine. His head was still screaming.

But she was well worth it. Her cheeks were streaked with salt lines. Her eyes puffy and red around the edges. He had pulled her to him so they could snuggle into the corner of the couch. Her body tucked between the back cushion and Harry's body. Like he didn't want anyone to see her if they entered the room.

“Harry?” Her voice was raw.

“Hmm?” He tucked her hair behind her ear and skimmed his fingertip along the same path repeatedly.

“Will you go on a date with me?” She whispered.

He smiled lazily. His heart exploding in his ribcage. “God, Poppy, I don't know. I have t'check m'schedule.” She smacked his chest with no weight behind it. He kissed the top of her head. “I’d take y’right now. Whenever y’want.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing t’be sorry for.”

"I have issues."

"We can work on them together."

"I don't know if you'll..." She trailed off.

"If I'll what?" He brushed his thumb on her cheek.

She took a deep breath. "I love love, Harry. I love watching people get married. I love when people have babies and grow a family. I want to have babies. I love reading romance novels and watching silly rom-coms where you can predict the ending before the movie even starts."

"Sounds pretty romantic and easy, Poppy," he murmured.

She swallowed continuing. "I will do a lot for you because I believe that's the way love is supposed to be. I want to make your life easier, and I want to do things that make you happy because I think happiness and love are in short supply and I want those books and rom-coms to be real."

Harry nodded. "Well—"

"I've never had that. I had a boyfriend for four years and..." she sniffled. "When we broke up, I said that I wouldn't do that again. I wouldn’t devote myself so completely to someone that wouldn't give me half as much. Then I met my next boyfriend and at first, I thought it was right, finally. It was equal. He loved me the right way, I mean. The way I thought I wanted, deserved... But then it was like he got tired of doing things. I don't know. Maybe my love language is acts of service. I don't know. I’m not making sense, I'm sorry. But..." she swallowed. "I broke it off after only two years that time. I just don't think I can be loved the right way... not forever. I don't know. I sound so selfish, don’t I? I don’t know why you want to go out with me so badly. I want someone to love me the way I love them, and I don’t think that’s...fair."

It was why she always had everything. Why she planned and hosted parties. Why she never drank and always took care of her friends. She loved everyone that was lucky to cross paths with her, with her whole, big, beautiful heart.

Harry tilted her chin up. "M’going to love you the right way,” he promised. “M’going to love you the way y’want because that's what y’deserve. If I love you anything less than you deserve then... well... I don't know what, Poppy. If that’s the case m’probably dead because s’the only possible explanation,” she snorted and tears dripped down her cheeks again but not like the night before. “But it's not going to be a problem, kitten. M’going to love you the way your books love. The way a rom-com loves. M’going to love you the way you love everyone that walks into your life. The way you so selflessly devote your kindness to them. M’going to love you the way you love," he promised. “Because s’an honor to love you,” he assured her. “S’an honor to be loved by you.”

She looked away from his gaze, closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his chest. His throat was aching again. He was really tired, but he would suffer her wrath and frustration of going on about this later. He knew that she would be beside herself knowing he was sick and dealing with her anyway. But where else would he be? "Harry," she whispered finally. He met her eyes the back of his fingers skimming her cheek.

"What, Poppy?"

"Do you love me already?"

"Of course I do."

She sniffled, her face crumpling with relief. Like all of it had been a trick up until then. "Okay," she whispered. “Can we go home?”

“Course, kitten,” he kissed the top of her head and moved slowly to get up from the sofa. All of his muscles ached from sickness and from the awkward but perfect position of holding her all night in the cramped little space.

He held his hand out for her to take as she stood next. “Harry,” she whispered softly.

“Hmm?” He hummed and looked at her with a soft expression that made her stomach flip, her heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, Poppy?"

“I’m in love with you too.”

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gudfornuthin · 3 months ago

Text

All I’ve Ever Wanted

Season 4!Five Hargreeves x fem!reader

! Spoilers ahead !

Summary: six years of travelling to different timelines, and Five isn’t sure how much longer he can go on for. Until he stumbles upon a greenhouse, full of strawberries. And you.

Word count: 4212

A/N: so season 4 was a… thing that happened. This story is basically my own idea of how things should’ve gone in ep 5. Instead of the weird Lila/Five situation, it’s just Five, and his chance of living a normal life with someone new. Hope you all enjoy, and feedback is appreciated :)

Number Five was never one to back down from a challenge. Having been through a series of different apocalyptic events, transporting to a timeline where he spent 40 years alone, and dealing with a misfit group consisting of his exhausting siblings, Five was up for anything. But the current situation he was dealing with? For the first time in his life, he was at breaking point.

After another wasted day spending hour after hour searching for any clues or information on how to get back to the correct timeline, Five returns to the subway, entering one of the compartments and slumping down in the first chair he sees. He rubs his eyes and lets out a visceral sigh, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep. He reaches into his pockets, pulling out a small pack of dried fruits. He rips it open and devours every last piece. He can’t remember the last time he had a proper meal. He was becoming more desperate, rummaging through trash cans and foraging in bushes, hoping anything he picks isn’t poisonous.

The compartment jolts and begins to move, making its way to the next timeline. Five wipes his hands on his already dirty pants, standing up and walking slowly to the door. He wonders whether his apocalypse counterpart will be waiting for him this time.

After several minutes, and Five almost falling over from his lack of sleep, he finally arrives, the doors opening. He steps out, immediately making his way up the stairs. No time to waste. He cautiously pokes his head out, looking around for any signs of, well, himself. Before he can move out more, something wizzes past his head. A bullet. He ducks, as more shots are fired directly at him.

“Give me a fuckin’ break,” Five mumbles, as he finally takes notices of the other him in the distance.

He sticks up his middle finger, and no soon after closes his fists, blinking as quick as he possibly could.

The Five with a gun disappears along with the destroyed world around him. Five drops his arms to his sides, turning around and admiring the new environment. Luscious, greenery surrounds him, with an array of different flowers sprouting from the ground beneath him. A small pond with fish glimmers in the sunshine, lily pads floating on top. He continues turning, finding himself standing next to a tall greenhouse. The glass was slightly foggy, making it difficult to see what’s inside. Five leans in closer, squinting as if that would help. He can barely make out what appears to be pots of fruit and vegetables, some fully sprouted and others not yet ripe. His stomach rumbles, the feeling of hunger consuming him.

A rustle sounds from behind him. He turns quickly, coming face to face with a pair of shears. Five jumps back slightly. He then spots the person wielding said ‘weapon’. A young woman, probably early twenties, wearing a light yellow dress and a pair of brown sandals. Five can’t help but admire her beauty, if it wasn’t for the fact she had a face like fury and didn’t seem afraid of cutting him in half.

“Can I help you?” Her words are kind, but her harsh tone says otherwise.

Five can’t exactly tell this young woman the truth. Showing up randomly in her back yard, covered in grime, gawking at her crops through the window. He raises his hands up in the air, trying to convey that he meant no harm.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his throat sore having not spoken to anyone in quite some time. “I don’t really know how I got here.” That’s not exactly true. “I’ve been travelling for a few days now.” Try six years. “And I could really do with a hot shower and something to eat.”

The woman doesn’t say anything, just staring, with the shears still held out in front of her.

Five puts his arms down, shrugging in defeat. “I’ll just go. I truly am sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” He looks down. “Or step all over your rose garden.” He gingerly moves away from the destroyed flowers.

He turns and begins to walk away, hoping to find an exit as quick as possible. Blinking in front of this woman probably wouldn’t help his cause. A warm hand grabs hold of his wrist, forcing him to stop and look back. She has the shears loosely hanging by her side, as her eyes pierce into Five’s. She seems hesitant, words forming in her mind. At last, she speaks again.

“You’re telling the truth?”

Five nods incessantly, feeling like a child.

“And if I let you in and make you something to eat, you won’t try and kill me?”

Five holds back a laugh, knowing she’s being deadly serious. “I wouldn’t dare.”

The woman waits a beat, then huffs. “Come on, I was just about to start dinner.”

She moves past Five, walking into three greenhouse. He takes this as a sign to follow after her.

***

The young woman allows Five to use her shower, and he’s thankful for the change of clothes she provides for him too. The home is small and cosy, playing into the stereotypical cottage core of living. The lighting is soft, and the smell of pumpkin seems to waft through into every room. It’s calming, it’s peaceful, it’s something that makes Five feel on edge. He isn’t used to the domestic life, away from the terror and destruction, trying to save the world over and over. He knows he can’t stay here long, but he won’t miss the opportunity of a proper cooked meal.

After putting on the change of clothes, Five makes his way down the hall and into the kitchen, a small buffet waiting for him. He finds it hard not to drool, the potatoes and fresh pie, along with the fruit and vegetables he’d spotted earlier. It looks incredible. He takes a seat, as the woman places down a final plate of tomatoes, sitting down opposite Five.

They dish out the food, filling their plates as high as they can, especially Five. He tries not to look like a slob in front of the pretty girl, but finds it hard not to drop some things down his top. She doesn’t seem to notice, or pretends not to.

The woman takes a sip of her drink, clearing her throat. “So,” her soft voice makes Five look up from his plate. “Do you have a name or is that one of the many mysteries of the man shovelling food down his throat like he hasn’t eaten in several years?”

The woman isn’t afraid of being upfront. Five admires that. Although, it’s not surprising considering he’s a complete stranger she’s trusted in her home. He puts down his knife and fork, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth.

“No, I have a name. It’s Fi-,” he catches himself, unsure if his ‘name’ would just create more confusion, and unwanted questions. “Jerome. Just, Jerome.”

The woman squints her eyes, but doesn’t push further, seeming to move past his stumble. “Okay. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Jerome.”

Five shrugs, not knowing what else to say.

“My names Y/N.”

Five nods. “Okay. We’re closer already.”

“Don’t push it,” Y/N says, a small smile gracing her face. Five can’t help but pull the same expression.

***

After a hearty dinner, and some obvious awkward silences, Five insists on helping Y/N do the washing up. The sun was beginning to set, and Five knows he’ll have to leave soon, but something stops him from doing so. He doesn’t want to admit it, but this was the most relaxed he’d felt in a long time. The fear or worry of something bad happening wasn’t there, and as he stands close to the woman he had barely met 2 hours ago, he realises what he’d been missing in his 60 something years. A place to live, with a person who makes him feel safe.

“Jerome,” the voice breaks through his thoughts, as Five almost forgets the name he’d given to this woman. “I feel like we’ve skirted around the topic enough. Is there any reason you were in the state you were in, taking refuge behind my greenhouse?”

Five places down the plate he was cleaning, turning to face her fully. Her expression is calm, and her voice shows no sign of interrogation. It’s a first for Five, as he’s become accustomed to people prodding him for information only for their own benefit. No one’s ever shown true interest in him.

He shrugs. “It’s been a tough couple of years. More than that I guess.” Fives eyes glaze over. “I haven’t seen my family in a long time, and I don’t know if I ever will. And if I do, I’m terrified of the state that I’ll find them in.”

Y/N stops what she’s doing, also turning to look at Five, a look of worry taking over her face. He knows he’s said more than he should have, but he couldn’t help it. He’s not good at sharing his feelings, and when he does, he’s scared of what will happen once the flood gates are opened. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to close them.

“What d’you mean? Are they in some kind of trouble?” She asks, a slight shake in her voice. “Are you in trouble?”

Five shakes his head, not wanting to stress out this poor woman who’s been nothing but doting to him. “No! No, I just,” he sighs, knowing he’s really put his foot in it. “I just care about them, a lot. Too much. And I don’t even want to think about not seeing them again.”

A soft hand brushes against Five’s cheek, as he glances at Y/N wiping a tear away from his face. He didn’t even realise he’d started crying. He sniffles, moving away and rubbing at his eyes, fearing how red they may look. He sucks in a deep breath, calming his beating heart. Whether it’s from talking about his family, or the touch from the woman next to him, he isn’t sure. But he fears he’s overstayed his welcome.

Five moves away from the kitchen counter. “I guess I should probably go. Don’t wanna miss my train.” Although he knows they’ll always be one there waiting for him.

He heads for the door, remembering to go upstairs and collect his dirty clothes before he leaves. Footsteps are heard from behind him.

“Uh,” Five swivels back around, as Y/N hesitates over her words. “This may seem kinda forward, and a dangerous move on my part, but, I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight knowing you were out there in the middle of the night, traveling by yourself.”

Five holds his breath, not wanting to jump the gun, but already anticipating the next sentence out of her mouth.

“I have extra pillows, and blankets.” Y/N shrugs. “It’s not the most comfortable couch but I’d say it’s more comfortable than the chairs on the train.”

Neither of them speak for a while. Five ponders her offer over and over, wondering if this is something he wants to decline. He needs to get back to his family. He needs to get back to help them. But so far, every option has been a bust. He’s not sure how much longer he can go on for. It could be the apocalypse all over again. Stuck for 40 years, traveling none stop, unsure if he’ll ever see his loved ones again. Could a good nights sleep really be such a bad thing?

He thinks the risk is worth it. “As long as it’s not too much trouble for you.”

***

That one good nights sleep turned into three months, staying at Y/N’s home, crashing on her couch. It didn’t stop Five from going out, back to the subway, trying to find the possible solution to his six year problem. But the more time he spent with the woman, the less time he wanted to spend away from her. They grew closer, making meals together, gardening together, watching silly romcoms together. While Y/N taught Five how to bake, Five taught her how to fight. A young woman living by herself? It didn’t hurt knowing some basic defence skills.

Five didn’t want to admit it, but his family hadn’t crossed his mind as often as it usually did before he met Y/N. He’d become soft, wanting to be around her all the time, not wanting to visit the subway as often as he should be. He’s lucky enough to call her a friend. He hopes she calls him that too.

***

It’s late, and Y/N is sat on the couch, crocheting a few pairs of gloves and a long overdue jumper. People used to make fun of her for it, calling her an old lady, but she finds it soothing. And making your own clothes is a big bonus too. Five, or Jerome as she knew him, had been out most of the day. She never questioned what he was up to, only that he returned safe, ready for whatever she’d cooked up for him during the day. She wasn’t completely naive in thinking ‘Jerome’ has involved himself in shady business. But unless he plans on telling her, then she won’t bother pushing him on the matter.

A bang echos from the back of the house, specifically inside the geeenhouse. It makes Y/N jump up from her seated position, quickly rushing out to the source of the noise. It can only be one person, or that’s what she hopes. Either way, she grabs for her shears before entering the warm glass room.

“Jerome?” She whispers, watching her step, the only light in the room coming from the moon through the windows.

A muffled groaning reaches her ears, as Y/N blindly moves her hands over the walls, trying to find the light switch. She finally does, and flicks it on. A sharp gasp comes out of her mouth, as the brightness finally reveals her new friend curled in a ball on the floor, rolling in pain.

“Shit.”

She quickly makes her way over to him, delicately wrapping her arms around his waist and slowly helping him off the floor. He stumbles, knocking into a few pots, almost making them fall off the table.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, the word slurring under his breath.

“Don’t apologise,” she says, making sure he’s steady on his feet. “Let’s just get you inside and onto the couch.”

They make their way through into the living room, Five dropping haphazardly onto the soft cushions, while Y/N finally gets a proper look at him. His clothes are ripped, the once pristine suit (one she bought for him as a gift) now in tatters. His hair is sticking up in all different directions, and he’s clutching to his side like his life depends on it. She reaches for his arm, prying it away to reveal an array of bullet wounds, still bleeding.

“You should see the other guy,” Five jokes, tilting his head back and trying to forget about the burning pain running across his body. Funnily enough, if Y/N saw the other guy, he’d look exactly like him, considering this all happened due to an unfortunate run in with apocalypse Five.

Y/N stares at him with wide eyes. “Really? Look, I don’t bother asking where you go or what you’re up to when you leave this house, but I think now’s the time you tell me the truth.”

Five moves his head back down, looking her in the eyes. She’s terrified. And he hates that. He breathes in deep, taking her hand in his.

“If you can help me patch this shit up,” he briefly motions to his wounds, “then I’ll tell you who I really am.”

So that’s what they do. Y/N retrieves the first aid kit from her bathroom, while Five opens up about his life before he met her, and how he’s not from this timeline. He isn’t sure if she’s believing what he says, as she remains quiet the entire time, only occasionally looking up at him and quickly returning to removing the bullets lodged in his side. But she listens. And allows him to pour his heart out to her.

“The past six years were torture. Somehow worse than the forty I spent in the apocalypse.” Five turns his head and stares at the woman next to him, as she finishes up her work. “But these last few months with you. I could finally be normal. I could live a life most guys would kill to have. And I’m so sorry I lied to you this long.”

They fall into silence, the pair somehow closer together than they were a few minutes ago. Both emotionally, and physically. Y/N moves her hand and takes his, squeezing tightly. Five’s heartbeat picks up speed, only now noticing their close proximity.

“So your real name is ‘Five’?” He nods at her words. She nods back. “Hmm. It suits you a lot better than Jerome.”

They both laugh half heartedly, as they stare deeply into each other’s eyes. She moves her hand up to his hair, moving it out of his face, trying to calm it down slightly.

She carries on talking. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through.” Five rolls his eyes. She doesn’t even know the half of it. “But if I can be the person to keep you grounded, for however long you’re here for, then I’m happy to do just that.”

Five smiles, glancing quickly at her lips.

She does the same. “And I hope you’re here for a long time.”

They both lean in, softly pressing their lips against each other’s. Five cups her face, deepening the kiss as Y/N rests her arms atop his shoulders. They move in sync, careful not to cause any more damage to Five’s wounds, as she somehow moves closer, one of her legs wrapping itself around his waist.

They don’t stop, clothes discarded, bodies intertwined, as their growing tension is finally broken. Five isn’t sure if he’ll ever get back to his timeline, but for now, he’s happy to call this place home.

***

Another four months, and still no sign of a way back. Although, Five can’t deny he hasn’t been trying as hard as usual. The peace and tranquillity has consumed him whole, falling into a proper routine with the woman he…

Is it love? Could he truly fall for someone like this? Someone who isn’t involved in the shit show he’s grown accustomed to? Someone who wants that quiet life, watering flowers and baking pies, with him? Maybe it’s what he needs.

Five stands in the greenhouse, picking some fresh strawberries, and trying a few to see if they were ripe. He’s already found the perfect recipe to use them in. Something he knows she’ll love.

As if reading his thoughts, a pair of arms slip around his waist. Y/N rests her chin on his shoulder, peaking over to see the basket full of fresh fruit. She picks one up, moving away and popping it in her mouth. Five turns and looks at her, smiling wide.

“They taste perfect,” she says.

Five takes her wrists, pulling her towards him and kissing her lightly. “So do you.”

She laughs, holding him close and breathing him in. “The cheesy lines don’t work on me, bub.”

“I think they do.” He mumbles, bringing her in for another kiss, sliding his hands up and down her back.

They stay like this for a while, holding each other in the warm glass room. The sun starts to set, as Five looks out and realises what time it is.

“Damn.”

She looks at him, confusion on her face. “What’s up?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, I just need to do a double check of the subway before dinner.”

Y/N tries not to show her anxiousness, but some of it seeps through. After Five explained to her what the subway is and why he goes there every day, she’s terrified at the thought of him leaving and never coming back. But she knows he wouldn’t do that to her. Not without saying goodbye.

She steps back. “Right. Promise you’ll be safe?”

He kisses her on the cheek. “I promise.”

***

Five spends some time looking around the platform in the subway, checking the lights, checking the maps, even poking his head into the tunnels to see if anything has changed. But nothing. It all remains the same. No sign of his past life waiting for him. Was that such a bad thing?

Holding a small flashlight, he shines it up and down, left and right, hoping his eyes will catch something new. A sudden pop from above startles him, the grip he had on the flashlight loosening. It falls and rolls onto the tracks. Five looks up, noticing one of the bulbs now flickering. He huffs, moving to the edge of the platform and jumping down. He retrieves the flashlight, hitting it a few times to try and get it to work again. It comes to life, flashing in front of him. That’s when he spots something.

“That’s new.”

Five walks over, grabbing the mystery object and holding it up. It’s a plain notepad. He flips it open, scanning over the messy handwriting inside. His messy handwriting. He can’t help but let out a tiny gasp, as he figures out what it all means.

“This is it.” Tears form in his eyes. “This is my way back home.”

He’s shocked. He’s elated. He’s emotionally drained. This is his chance to rejoin his timeline. To see his family after so long. To fix the mess they’ve created. But all he can think about in this moment is Y/N. How the hell is he supposed to break the news to her?

***

After another hour spent pondering this new found information, Five slowly makes his way back home. His home. Where the life he’d built was waiting for him.

He enters the house and walks into the kitchen, where Y/N stands by the stove, boiling something sweet and caramelly. Five just stares at her; humming a random tune, wiping her messy hands on the apron he bought for her when her old one accidentally caught fire. That was the most stress he’d felt since coming here. And if that was the only stress he had to deal with, he’d take it every single day.

She finally turns and spots him, smiling wide. “Oh hey! I was worried for a sec, you were taking longer than expected.”

She moves closer to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He holds her, not wanting to let go. Y/N can tell something isn’t right.

She leans back. “You okay?”

Five doesn’t reply, only holding the notepad out for her to take. She does so, flipping through the pages just like he did, her expression perplexed.

“I don’t understand-”

“It’s the way back to my timeline.”

She looks up at him, mouth slightly open, as her words fall short. Five can swear he hears her heartbeat speed up, as her breathing becomes erratic. Five isn’t sure what to do, waiting for an explosion of emotions to rain down on him. But nothing comes. Neither of them do or say anything.

Five chooses to break the silence. “I don’t wanna lose you. I can’t. I don’t think I could live the way I used to live. Not after living this life with you.”

Y/N bites her lip, suppressing a sob. “You have to go.”

Five furrows his brow, hoping he heard her wrong. He tilts her head up to stare into her eyes, seeing the tears forming.

“No,” he whispers. “You’ve become the most important thing in my life. The thought of never seeing you again, I can’t do that.”

A tear falls down her cheek, as Five reaches out to wipe it away.

“I’d love nothing more than to stay in this little bubble we’ve created,” she replies, finding it hard to keep her voice steady. “But your family, your timeline, all those people? They need you more than I do. And I know deep down, you can’t bear the thought of letting them die, knowing you could’ve helped.”

Five wants to ask her to come with him. Become apart of his family. He knows she’d get on with them all. And they’d all love her, possibly more than they love him. But he knows it’s cruel to ask her to leave her life behind. The house, the garden, the home that she’s worked so hard on. And the thought of throwing her into the thick of it all. Putting her at danger? No chance.

He pulls her into his embrace, kissing her hard. They hold each other tight, their lips bruising as neither of them can stop the tears from falling.

Y/N is the first to pull away. “If you ever get the chance to come back to this timeline, you know where to find me.”

Five smiles, not wanting to let her go. He kisses her once more. “In the greenhouse, tasting just as sweet as the strawberries.”

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