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amjustagirl · 2 months

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Chapter 2

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader

genre: romance, angst

wc: 2.7k

summary: you've loved soshiro since you were seven. he will always place his duty above you.

chapt 1 / chapt 2 / chapt 3 / chapt 4 / chapt 5

The first step in your mission to reclaim your heart back from Hoshina Soshiro is to ignore his texts.

// omg my blade got chipped in a fight // // daikaiju with a ridiculously hard shell // // so annoying!! // // hmph!!! // // fix it for meeeeee //

// !?!?!??!?!// // u still have indigestion???//

You really should’ve foreseen his sheer stubbornness though, considering the mountain of rejection he had to claw through to get to where he is. He springs a surprise visit on you, breaking into your lab without warning.

“Did you seriously ask me to fill in an official form for upgrades?” he demands, miffed.

“Record keeping purposes”, you lie through your teeth. “My boss is on my back.”

“Your boss?!” he repeats incredulously. “Aren’t you the head of your department?”

A department consisting only of three overworked blade specialists servicing the entirety of Japan’s Defense Force and private security forces, but he has a point. “Well, the auditors might run their checks, and how am I supposed to justify spending budget on reckless improvements that a certain vice captain demands -”

He slings an arm over your shoulder and a crackle of electricity zips up your spine. “C’mon, don’t be silly -”

You shrug him off, waiting nothing better than to run for the toilets to fan away the heat spreading up the column of your neck to the apples of your cheek. “Fine”, you acquiesce. “I’ll get to it - just, stop bugging me -”

He smirks, content at getting his way. “Great, now we can grab lunch. Food here’s so much better than on base -”

That, you can fend off. “Can’t”, you say. “Lunch with colleagues. And no, you can’t join, Hana-chan wants to cry about her ex, and you’ll make her uncomfortable if you’re there.”

He goggles at you. “Since when do you have friends besides me?”

“Always, you rude shit”, you say, though really, you’ve just been putting in more effort in being more social at work. “Now, get out.”

At last, he leaves, so you can reset your heart to its factory settings. You fix his katanas and send it back via courier, when previously you might have delivered it to the base yourself as an excuse to see him again.

The next step is to find something else to preoccupy you.

You sign up for pottery lessons on Sunday afternoons, which clashes directly with when Soshiro gets the majority of his time off. You aim to slaughter two birds with a single stroke, an excuse to avoid him coupled with a hobby for you that has nothing to do with him.

It comes naturally to you, since you’re accustomed to using your hands and handling heat to create things, even if it’s usually steel, not soft clay. But it’s different when you do it for fun, for yourself. Blades can be beautiful, but your focus when hammering at them has always been its function, not form, so it’s a welcome change to just create things for its beauty.

You make cups and bowls for your colleagues (now friends), a set of sake cups for your parents in a rust-red glaze. Your proudest creation is a tea set that you keep for yourself, displayed on the windowsill to remind you of a summer sky when it’s grey.

Even Yamamoto-san gets a little gift since you now consider him a friend, a stone pot for a plant he complained of having outgrown its home. He reciprocates next month with a plant for you, who he says needs a home. This you struggle with, not being born with a green thumb. You studiously research plant-rearing tips and plunk the monstera you are gifted with by your prized tea set, but it truly thrives when you bring another potted plant home. Pothos, at first, because they’re too-determined to live. Bird’s fern, for it’s graceful leaves. When you’re more confident, you top it off with azaleas, for colour, hydrangeas to match your tea set.

(not violets, never violets)

“Huh”, you stare at the jungle on your balcony “Even plants need friends, I guess.”

It’s still little too soon to put yourself out there on the dating apps and start searching in the radioactive waste pool of the Tokyo dating scene when your heart is still tethered to Hoshina Soshiro. Any willpower you have to stay away is shaken when you hear that Soshiro’s been assigned a numbers weapon, especially after hearing whispers in the lab that testing has been going terribly. You ask permission to be on base to watch one testing session yourself as a weapons technician. The Numbers Weapon 10 has a mind of its own, and it keeps clashing with Soshiro, causing their test results to be abysmally low.

“Will he be safe?” you question Okonogi-san, the overworked third base operations leader.

“If he doesn’t get his numbers up with the weapon, I doubt he’ll be allowed to wear it out on the field”, she shrugs.

You slip away before he’s released from testing grounds.

// did u srsly come to base // // and not say hi!?!??! // // i haven’t seen ur face in forever //

It’s the truth. Despite your pledge to carve out more space to live a life that yours, you make an exception, burning hours on a new weapon to match the volatile Numbers weapon that by all reports, only wants to be worn by Soshiro. Anyone who knows anything about Soshiro knows of his preference for twin blades, ‘cos it makes me look cool’, he jokes, so no one will anticipate a single katana as a backup weapon.

// ty for the katana // // it’s q cool // // ok, v v cool // // wld be cooler if you dropped by to say hi // // free this weekend? //

You take a train all the way back to Osaka to visit your parents instead, lest he take it upon himself to commit larceny by breaking into your apartment. You don’t put it past him, since he has the combination to your front lock - his birthday, that’s another thing you need to change.

“How’s Yamamoto-san?” your mother asks, none too subtly.

You know your parents are proud of both you and your older brother for following the family’s traditions, and you’re lucky they’re progressive enough to encourage it even in you, but they’re of the age where they’re starting to long for grandchildren. Your older brother’s wedding scheduled for next year should distract them for now, but they’ll soon look to replicate their success with you.

“He’s pretty nice, but I don’t think he’s the one”, you reply.

Your mother’s lips purse. “Are you still hung up on that Hoshino boy?”

You’re stung into silence, your mother’s directness catching you off-guard. She tsks at you, pouring you tea that’s bitter from being steeped too long.

“I’m not - that’s not -”

Her gaze is sharper than any blade you’ve ever made. “Don’t insult me by lying.”

“Ka-san. It’s hard but I’m trying to get over it- gods, it’s so embarrassing to say this aloud in front of my own mother -”

She sniffs imperiously. “Try harder.”

“Will do”, you reply dryly. “I’ll just walk into the nearest combini and pick up the first guy they have sitting on the shelf, shall I?”

She raps your knuckles with her chopsticks. “Don’t be insolent”, she clucks. “Hoshina Soshiro -”

“I know, ‘ka-san”, you interrupt, the wound still raw under its scabbing. “You don’t have to say it.”

“Hm.”

It’s too difficult to meet your mother’s eyes, so you’re glad when she bustles off to the kitchen. A plate is shoved under your nose, oranges, painstakingly peeled, apples, perfectly sliced.

“There’ll be mangoes if you come back next week”, your mother says.

“That’ll be nice”, you smile.

The next step is the hardest, the part you fear the most.

Soshiro insists on seeing you. There’s no excuse he accepts, not after forty two calls and unread messages. Initially you toyed with changing the combination on your front door to keep him out, but you’re certain he’ll stand outside and cause a ruckus until you let him in.

He’s waiting in your apartment when you return from class. “Okairie”, he grounds out, jaw set. “It’s nice to see you again.”

There’s no point running. He’ll catch up with you within seconds anyway.

You drop your bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. “It’s nice to see you too”, you reply, skirting around his palpable annoyance. “Are you staying for dinner? I can make curry rice - ”

“I wanna know why you’ve been ignoring me.”

You plaster on a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”, you hedge. “I mean, I’ve been busy at work, you’ve been busy at work - I’ve been picking up new hobbies -”

“Which I’d know, if you talked to me in the past three months -”

“I’ve really been too busy, haven’t had the chance -”

“Nonsense”, he scoffs. “Don’t think I don’t know that you dropped by base without saying hi -”

“Pretty sure you were too busy tussling with that new combat suit -”

“You didn’t even bother to lunch with me the last time I came to your office -”

“I was busy working on your weapon, which I don’t hear you complaining about -”

You stop short when he takes you by your shoulders. You smell coffee and steel, a scent that just so Soshiro, that it makes your heart forget to beat. He’s close, far too close that you can see the dying sun-gold illuminating the violet iris of his eyes. You squeak as he tips your chin up, calloused fingers so painfully gentle as he meets your gaze. “Are you sure we’re okay?”, he asks softly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Other than torturing your heart by being within your vicinity?

Shaking your head, you take a large step back. “All good”, you splutter, ears on fire.

He doesn’t give you a chance to hide, shouldering into your space. “Somehow I don’t believe you”, he pinches your cheek. “Spill it. Stop lyin’.”

The pieces of your heart are stitched together with fragile threads, but his presence makes your heart slam itself against your ribcage over and over again. You are powerless from stopping it from falling apart again.

“You can eat my entire tub of chestnut ice cream -”

“Stop tryin’ to distract me.” He leans in, almost nose to nose with you, the curve of his mouth so dangerously close to your lips that your heart chooses this precise moment to combust. “Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”

Courage has never been your strong suit, but you owe it to Soshrio to be brave enough to be honest that it’s not him, never him that made you run and hide. It’s your traitorous heart at blame. Plus, you figure, when he turns you down, perhaps it’ll finally deprive your heart of any lingering hopes it harbours, so you can finally, finally reclaim ownership of your heart.

Your lungs claw for air.

“It’s not anything you did”, you whisper. “I just wanted more than what you probably ever thought to give.”

His brows pinch together in confusion.

“It’s just - I know you’re busy doing big things in the Defense Force and you probably never have time in between killing a million kaijus to consider anything outside of work, and I know that you’ve never given any indication that you see me more than just a friend, cos really, I know where I stand -”

“You’re rambling.” He shakes you. “You’re not making any sense.”

You close your eyes.

(plunge a knife into your chest, carve it out whilst it's still beating, still bleeding)

“I like you, Soshiro-kun”, you say. “Not just as a friend, in case that wasn’t clear enough.”

“Oh.”

It’s a simple word with exactly one syllable, but it does the job. He stares at you, slack jawed. His reaction twists the knife deeper into your belly. You clutch the counter for balance, prevent yourself from doubling over, spilling your guts on your kitchen floor. “I didn’t wanna ruin our friendship so I’ve just been kinda distant. I needed - I needed space. Just to get over it. I’m sorry if I worried you.”

He still doesn’t respond.

“Soshiro -”

He looks up and you read only pity in his gaze. “I’m sorry -”

Your hurt pride will not allow you to let him see you fall apart. “Can we attack that tub of ice cream now”, you interrupt. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

“Right”, he says after a long pause, face carefully blank. “Ice cream.”

You spend the rest of the evening eating ice cream and decidedly avoiding his gaze while chattering away about everything and nothing at all, papering over any awkwardness in a desperate attempt to pretend you don’t care that you’ve just killed any chance you’ve had at keeping your friendship intact. He’s almost silent save for some mmhms and grunts to indicate he’s still listening, so unlike his usual talkative replate with a joke in hand. You too, cannot put up with this charade anymore, so you feign tiredness, just to cut this ordeal short.

“Stay safe”, you remind him. “Don’t get eaten by a kaiju.”

“Yeah”, he replies.

He doesn’t say seeya later, as he usually does. You’re unsurprised by that.

Your phone remains empty of any new messages from him.

In the initial aftermath, you drown yourself in work to overcompensate for your wandering mind and wishful heart. All tweaks to his weaponry are done purely through official channels, as you previously requested. He doesn’t even text you a thanks when you stay up working on changes to his blades. Not that you’ve ever felt entitled to his gratitude. It’s just your job - one that you’ve decided to take up because your seven year old self lost her heart to him, but really, that’s on you, not him.

There are no spontaneous lunchtime visits, not even when you make updates to his brother’s tech. He doesn’t drop by your apartment the next time he’s off-duty, nor he does ask you to accompany him to another overpriced dessert cafe, not even when the gingko trees in Tokyo turn yellow, marking the season for every store to have a mont blanc special which you know he’d be weak for.

This is good, you tell yourself.

It hurts less than you expected. Of course it splits open your stitched-closed wounds to hear him say in your face what you already knew, that Hoshina Soshiro will never love you, not in this lifetime or the next. You allow yourself a few lonely nights to wallow in self-pity, spend a weekend facedown on your bed, stifling your screams into your pillow. You might have lost your footing momentarily, slipped down a ravine of despair, but with a few weeks’ grace, you start to claw your way out of the ravine of despair.

You will find your footing, find a way to get over him, live a life without Hoshina Soshiro by your side.

You will. You will.

It will become easier. You find contentment sitting on your balcony by yourself as the evenings grow cooler, leaves catching in the breeze, a meal you cooked for yourself on your lap. You throw yourself headfirst into pottery classes, where all you focus on is the feel of soft clay melting into your hands. Between work, your hobbies and weekend visits home, you don’t give yourself time to think about anything or anyone else anymore.

Weeks pass.

You catch a glimpse of him on the office TV as you clock in for work. Though you almost always turn it off right away, lest your heart believe it can find its way back to him, you make an exception today when the TV starts to blare about some daikaiju appearing, one after another across Japan, the third division deploying to a location not too far away from you.

<don’t be eaten by a kaiju>

The building starts to shake.

You put your phone away. Your co-workers surround the screen, yelling about evacuations and contingencies. You start to head down towards the forge, determined to save as much of your handiwork as you can. Soshiro and the rest of the swordsmen in the Defense Force will need whatever you can save.

a/n: manga spoilers from the next chapt onwards, read at your own risk! also, am off riding in mongolia til the 20th - next chapter out after - pls lmk what you guys think in the meantime ;)

#hoshina soushirou #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina soshiro #hoshina x reader #kaiju 8

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gretavangroupie · 6 months

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The Ripe and The Ruin - (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader

Word Count: 14.3k

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Unwelcome Advances, Kissing.

Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify

A new series in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

"Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."

JAKE POV

You absentmindedly swirl the skinny black straw around in your glass, scoffing to yourself as you wonder why the bartender put a stirrer into your Whiskey in the first place. It didn’t need to be stirred. You took it straight. It was fine on its own. Regardless, you sipped around the straw, letting the oaky liquor trickle down the back of your throat.

It wasn’t that you hated flying. It was more that you hated being alone with your thoughts for extended periods of time. Only your phone or a book to occupy your brain, but you knew that only worked for so long. Eventually you’d be left alone to tumble down into those dark, dusty memories that would torment you until you touched down in whatever city you were slated to be in that day.

You hear Josh’s voice, instinctively causing you to turn your head, watching as he and Daniel stand in front of the camera recording whatever video the social media team planned for the day. You gracefully bowed out of that process all together, the team knowing not to approach you about an idea unless they knew it was something you would agree to. Usually though, it wasn’t. You turn to look at Sam on your right, seeing his gaze fixed upon the two of them. Both of you were now watching them as they played along with the skit, a huff of secondhand embarrassment sizzling through you as you sip from your glass. You’d never be caught dead doing that.

Fools. How is anyone ever supposed to take us seriously if all we show them is this?

“You ready for another few months of this shit?” you mumble, your lips barely parting from the edge of your glass.

Sam snickers as he turns back to you. “No. But that’s the job isn’t it?” he answers, swallowing down a gulp of beer, turning to look at you.

“I’m hitting that wall, too.” you answer, meeting the eyes of his girlfriend, Lyla. She sends you a sympathetic look as she squeezes Sam’s arm, giving him the little bit of reassurance he needs. “S’been a shit few weeks.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, instead pursing his lips together and slowly nodding his head as he peers down into his empty glass. Everyone knows better than to indulge you in your misery at this point, vowing not to pick at the festering wound. It’s still fresh and you’re still too volatile.

“Well, we’re going to your happy place, right?” Lyla asks with a hopeful smile.

“Yeah, yeah we are,” you answer, taking another long pull of Whiskey. It was clear she didn’t know the reason it made you happy in the first place was because of the memories you made there with the person no longer around.

You turn your head ready to fall into those memories you’ve been pushing away for weeks, but fate has other plans as you spot your production team walking towards the boarding gate. They look frantic as they talk to each other, their eyes flicking up and down from their phones in their hands. Paul, your band Manager leads the group, finally slipping his phone into his pocket as he spots the gate. Next to him is Corrine, the Production Manager talking on the phone, balancing it between her ear and shoulder as she follows Paul. Wes, the Tour Manager continues to talk to Paul as they step into the waiting area, but behind him is someone you don’t recognize.

She’s looking down at her phone, unaware that Wes has come to an abrupt stop in front of her. She runs into him just enough that it gets his attention, a profuse apology falling from her mouth. You laugh a little at the exchange, wondering who this girl is, and why she is with your team. She’s dressed like the rest of them, casual, but still comfortable for a day of travel. A slouchy white long sleeve shirt, a little too thin for the cold January weather, a brown leather backpack, worn and well loved, and a pair of olive green pants that hug her ass just a little too well for 10AM on a Thursday morning. You find yourself unable to pull your eyes away from her, a magnetizing feeling sucking you in the longer you look at her. She laughs with Wes, a bright smile lighting up her face causing an unwelcome twinge in your chest. It’s when she fully turns though, allowing you to see her whole face through the curtain of tousled waves, that you find yourself needing to know who she is.

You swallow nervously, licking your bottom lip as you turn to Sam. “Who uh, who’s that?” you ask, nodding towards the group. “With Paul, Wes, and Corri?”

Sam turns around in his barstool, looking across the busy walkway to the group standing at the gate. “Oh, um…” he pauses, assessing the situation. “She’s with Paul, so that must be our new runner.”

“What happened to Lucy?” you ask, letting your eyes drift back to the mystery girl.

“She got engaged and moved to Scotland or some shit, I don’t remember. Ask Josh,” he laughs.

You hum, trying to remember the email thread where Paul’s new assistant was approved. What was her name…

“You know her name?” Lyla asks, looking at Sam.

Yes, Lyla. Yes.

“Um, I think it’s….Y/N. Yeah, yeah, Y/N,” he answers confidently, snapping his fingers as he speaks.

“So she’s the new Lucy…” you hum, flipping your sunglasses down over your eyes.

“Guess so. We’ll see if she can hack it,” he laughs, sliding his card to the bartender.

You turn back to look at her, this time your eyes concealed. She is rocking back and forth on her feet, looking around as she hugs her arms across her chest. She seems nervous, pushing her hair behind her ears every few minutes. You’re positively taken by her, unable to peel your eyes away from her every move. You can’t help but study her, and you briefly wonder if it's the alcohol rushing through your brain that has you so focused on her.

The gate agents’ voice blaring through the intercom system snaps you from your thoughts, announcing that your flight was ready to begin boarding. You look to Sam, who is signing the check, and nod your head in silent agreement that you should head over. You toss back the rest of your Whiskey, letting out a sigh as it warms your chest. You grab your black leather backpack and sling it over your shoulders, straightening out your shirt before following Sam across the walkway to the gate. With your glasses still down, you step into the waiting area, watching people line up around you.

Josh, Ty, Mia, and Daniel appear behind you, startling you a bit as you fumble around in your pocket for your boarding pass. Their conversation is loud and grating, but you tune them out. You check your seat assignment as you move forward in the line, repeating it in your head over and over so you don’t forget it. You try not to pay attention to the pretty mystery girl five people ahead of you, but you just can’t seem to take your eyes off of her. You watch her disappear down the jet bridge as she talks to Paul, and before you can even register it, it’s your turn and the gate agent is scanning your ticket. She sends you on your way with a smile, and as you make the long walk to the plane you wonder if the girl in the green pants is going to make this tour just a little bit more interesting.

—

HER POV

3E. 3E. 3E.

Your eyes scan the row of numbers at the top of the cabin, finally catching sight of your assigned seat. You slide into the aisle seat, tossing your backpack to the floor as you let out a sigh of relief. You made it in one piece. You weren’t late, and everyone seemed to like you so far.

You take a look around you, admiring the plush seats and ample legroom. You’d never flown first class before. You felt a little out of place as you looked at the people around you. Thankfully it was filled with team members you knew, and the band members and their partners, but still you knew you didn’t belong up here. You kicked your bag beneath the seat in front of you, pulling your shirt sleeves over your hands before reaching up to adjust the air vents that were blowing far too hard. A small shiver left your body as you spun the vents closed, sitting back comfortably in your seat as you waited to see who your seat partner would be.

Your phone buzzed on your lap, a text from your best friend lighting up your screen.

Ruth

10:57am: How many hours is the flight again?

You smile as you quickly text back, running the numbers in your head.

You

10:58am: I don’t know, like 7 or 8 hours? You’ll be fine. Read a book or something. I’ll text you when I get there. But it will be late…or early? I think? There is a big time difference.

Ruth

10:59am: Ok, be careful.

You lock your phone and shove it under your leg, your eyes darting to the aisle as more people pass you on their way to their seats. You couldn’t believe your first leg of tour with them was taking you across Europe, allowing you to see places you’d only dreamed about. It wasn’t the job you were worried about, you could do that in your sleep. It was the uncertainty of being in another country with people you didn’t really know.

Getting to know the bands you worked for was a precarious thing. Always walking the thin line between friend and employee. You knew your place though, and you knew where that boundary lied. Your eyes refocus as someone stops in front of you, dropping their hands. As you look up you see Jake, one of the band members staring back at you.

“I’m…right there,” he says, gently pointing to the seat next to you.

“Oh, right here?” you ask, genuinely curious how you were seated next to a band member and not with a crew member.

“3F? That’s what this says…” he asks, checking his boarding pass. You nod and stand, letting him slide into the seat. He drops his leather backpack to the ground with a thud, letting out a sigh of relief, much in the same way you had.

You resettle in your own seat, buckling your seatbelt and pulling it tight across your lap. Your heart is still pounding as you try to calm your nerves, suddenly feeling put on the spot next to your boss. Or– your boss's boss. Shit.

You realize that you know practically nothing about this band, about its members, and really even much of their music beyond their hits. You planned to spend most of this flight acquainting yourself with them, learning their likes and dislikes before making a fool out of yourself in front of them in the green room. You don’t know if you should speak to him, and truthfully you’re a little hesitant since that day at the office, catching him and Josh in an argument.

You didn’t even know they would be there as you went in to sign your paperwork, but to your surprise they were, standing in the middle of the office playing around on instruments and talking. You made a beeline straight for the management office, mostly unseen, and quickly signed your paperwork. Paul went over some of the timelines and the things you would be responsible for as you took detailed notes on your phone, not wanting to miss a single thing.

Though, all of that came to a screeching halt as the sound of a chair skidding forcefully across the concrete floors pulled you both from your conversation. From your seat you watched through the small office door as two men moved towards each other, while two more intervened to break up whatever was about to happen.

You then learned from Paul that the two people that were arguing were the twins, Jake and Josh, and that the other two were their younger brother Sam, and their honorary brother Daniel. You observed in shock as the two of them shouted profanities at each other from either side of the piano, both red faced and worked up over something.

Paul quickly walked you out the front door with an apology and a laugh, and that was the last you saw of the band and its members, until today.

Out of the corner of your eye, you try to get a good look at him without him noticing. First impressions have always been a big deal to you, and since your first impression of him was nothing short of off-putting, you decide to try again. Give him the benefit of the doubt.

Worn-in black pants, cuffed at the ankle, a wrinkled beige button up that only conceals half his torso, a thick dark navy overcoat, and a stack of heavy silver necklaces. Oh, and blue-tinted sunglasses. His cologne… now that will be sticking around in your mind for a while. Clean, woodsy, a hint of musk but still kind of sweet.

You hear him clear his throat as he fidgets with his things, putting them all in their places as he finally settles into his seat. He reaches down into his black leather bag that appears to be well-loved, and pulls out a set of wired earbuds. They’re tangled and bunched, and you can’t help but smirk as you watch him try to untangle them. His fingers pull through the twisted white wires, and before you can offer your help, he reluctantly tosses them back down on top of his unzipped bag. “Fuck it,” you hear him mumble under his breath. He huffs again and leans back, tapping his fingers anxiously on his arm rests.

You let yourself drift back into your own thought as the plane takes off, going over the hundreds of miniscule things you know you’ll have to accomplish as soon as the plane lands. It’s quiet in first class, something you aren't used to with flying on the regular. The peacefulness that comes along with the drone of the plane and the light conversation between everyone is almost enough to help you relax a little, if not for the damned cool air still blowing through the vent above you.

You shiver a little, cuffing your hands over the ends of your shirt to pull it in more closely to your body. Why you had chosen to forgo a heavier jacket in the middle of winter, you truly don’t know. You decide to distract yourself a little, pulling up the string of endless emails that lie in waiting on your phone, getting a nice head-start on your duties before you have to hit the ground running.

Jake has been sitting beside you quietly for about an hour now, alternating scrolling his phone every few minutes and looking out his window. The cloud cover is heavy, so being able to see even a glimpse of the ocean below you is a lost cause. You listen as he sighs, crossing one of his legs over the other and folding his hands in his lap.

Should you strike up conversation? No, he probably doesn’t care to speak to you. But is it rude not to? You’ve already been sitting here for over an hour…

Just as you decide to open your mouth to speak, the plane hits turbulence. The cabin shakes and rumbles, and you can feel your stomach fall. Your hands grip the arm rests with white knuckles as the plane passes through, your eyes gripping shut as tightly as your palms on the arm rests.

Finally, after what feels like forever the plane evens out again, and you hear the pilot come over the intercom to apologize. You finally let the breath you were holding free from your lungs, and you open your eyes to see Jake with his head leaned low in front of you.

“You okay?” he asks, an eyebrow cocked.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just…don’t really enjoy this part much.” you admit, running your sweaty palms over your pants.

He sits back in his seat once he notices your calmness return. “Me neither, to be honest. No matter how many times you hit turbulence on a plane, you never get used to it. I don’t care what people say.” he says with a sweet smile. You can tell that he was coming down from an anxious episode just the same as you.

“No joke…” you agree, suddenly wanting a drink even if it was before noon. You push the tiny hairs away from your face as you regain a hold on your bearings, picking up right where you had left off before the turbulent air sent you into a spiral of doom. “I–I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself before, my name’s–”

“Y/N.” he cut in, extending the tips of his fingers out to offer you a friendly handshake.

You let your hand slowly come up to meet his, suddenly uncaring that it was probably still clammy. “Yeah, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you.”

For the five seconds your bodies connect, and the even shorter few seconds that his honey brown eyes meet yours, you feel like you were worried for nothing. This guy is nice. Maybe he’ll be easier to talk to than you thought…

His hand disconnects and flies to his chest. “I’m Jake.”

You nod. Of course you already know his name. “Yeah, um…guitar. Right?”

He smiles harder this time. “Yup. That’s my forte, at least. Have you um, ever been to Europe?” He brushes his hand over his nose a few times as his eyes dart back and forth from the seat behind you and back to your face, unable to hold eye contact. Is he nervous?

You turn your body a little more toward him. “No, actually. This is my first time. But I hear good things…”

“Oh shit, you’re gonna love it. Especially this time of year. Things move pretty fast when we get there, but we always try to explore as much as possible. See some sights.” You can tell that he’s truly excited about this excursion, and to be completely honest, you found yourself wanting to hang on his every word.

“Anything in particular?” you press, wanting to hear the gritty rich sound of his voice again.

You let him talk on and on about the places he wants to see, and the places that they had already been, even bringing up a few older photos on his phone as he describes their past trips. You try not to look as he scrolls, but his camera roll is full of tons of scenic photos and videos, landscapes, mountains, waterfronts… and of course a few rogue photos of guitars and guitar parts. You wonder if he’s planning to make little vlogs.

“Italy is my favorite, I think. So much history there. I could’ve stayed for six months if they’d have let me.” Your shoulders are pressed up against each others’ now as you watch his thumb glide over the multitude of media, speeding through the less important ones to get to his favorites. Strange of him to trust a stranger this much to watch him scroll his personal camera roll. He obviously doesn’t have much to hide, even if this is crossing that boundary line…

“The people are great, the food is great, the wine, oh god, don’t get me started on the wine…” he chuckles, and you feel yourself bumping your shoulder against his a little as you laugh along with him. “The terroir is fuckin’ phenomenal, obviously. It’s like a different world.”

“I like a moscato every now and then.” You add, trying to throw in your two cents on your crumbs of wine knowledge.

He returns with a scrunched nose. “Hmm, a bit sweet for my taste…So, Y/N. What’s your story, how’d you end up with us?” he asks, switching to cross his other leg over, now.

You swallow, unsure of how to explain years’ worth of ups and downs you’d gone through to a rockstar. Your boss. You decide to keep it short and sweet, he didn’t need to know everything.

“Well, I spent my entire youth attending a small private school and private high school, so I came up quite the determined and disciplined kid. Kinda sheltered.” You turn again in your seat, tucking one leg up underneath you. “But, I ended up moving away from home and away from family, been in this business for almost, eh, six years now?” You go on, and he listens intently. “Guess you could say I’m a pro at making things happen out of thin air.” You give him a long wink as you snap your fingers together.

His eyebrows shoot up, and he finally gives you a hundred-watt smile. My god, he’s…

“A-ha, so you got all the good hookups, huh?” He asks, running his fingers over his chin as his cheeks turn the palest shade of pink.

“S’what the runner does, isn’t it?” You pull your eyes back down to your lap. “Get you everything you need, right when you need it?”

You bring your eyes back up to his and watch as he swallows hard, his mouth hanging open for just a split second before he catches himself. “Yeah, ehm, I suppose it is. We’re not too bossy, though. Josh can be, but.”

“So I’ve heard, he’s kind of a…diva?” You hadn’t done too much research on them, honestly. You hadn’t had the time. But, what few tiktoks and musics videos you had managed to see were fairly telling of their personalities.

“He is. He is.” Jake laughs. “Don't let him fool you, though. He’s a big softie with an attitude problem. We all kind of are, honestly.”

“You’re a softie?” You press with a teasing tone. “From the few videos I’ve seen of you playing guitar, you look a little intimidating…”

“Me? Intimidating?” He clicks his tongue. “Don’t believe everything you see on the internet, Y/N. It’s dangerous…” he growls the last word, and you can feel your insides ripping themselves apart just at the sound of his voice. You have to pull back, now.

“All the runners we’ve ever had did extensive research on us before they came on tour, did you not do that?” he inquires, throwing you off a bit.

You don’t really know how to answer, so you tell the truth. “Honestly Jake, no, I didn’t. I’ve toured with a few other bands in my career, and I did that. I researched them, learned all things I thought I needed to know so I didn’t go in blind. And, this time around, I did a little bit, but I kind of wanted to meet you all for myself. Get my own versions of you.”

“Hm.” He responds with an understanding nod. “Well, you’ll be the first.”

“Speaking of,” you go on, candidly glancing around the cabin and deciding to go ahead and ask the question that’s been nagging you. “Everyone else is seated with someone, wonder why I’m not with the rest of the team.”

“What, you don’t wanna sit by me, Y/N?” he asks with a shred of a grin.

“No no, it’s not that.” you laugh. “Just—“

“Normally I have someone with me, but…we’ve recently…gone our separate ways, I suppose.” He trips over the words a little, stammering through them like it was the first time he’d admitted it.

“Oh… I see.” you pause, “That’s…never an easy thing.”

I wonder if that was why he was so snippy that day at the office when you saw him fall off his rocker?

“Eh, s’alright. Win some, lose some. We had a good run.” He says as he waves off the question. “So, you say you’ve been doing this awhile, you must really miss whoever you’re leaving at home.”

Skating around the question, aren’t you, Jake?

“No, I’m single, if that’s what you’re asking.” You bite your lip as he doesn’t stop you from elaborating further. “I’m pretty independent, I like structure and uniformity. Growing up I wasn’t allowed much time on my own to have hobbies outside of school and practice. Strict parents. The job has kept me pretty adhered to that mindset, even in my personal life, so.”

His eyes flick to yours and he squints them a little, as if he’s collecting every single one of your words and hanging them in a closet in his mind. He’s trying his best to figure you out, you can see it on his face. But why? He shouldn’t care…you don’t matter.

“I can respect that.” He nods again. “My brothers and I, we grew up in a fairly religious household. Was great, don’t get me wrong. Really formed our roots but, as we got older and started to see the world, we kinda got away from it. Began to start seeing things in a different perspective.” He sucks his teeth, as if he’s recounting a hard memory. “Kinda why we moved to Nashville. We knew we had to break away if we wanted the band to be successful.”

You nod in understanding. “I mean, it worked, didn’t it?”

His laugh fills the cabin as it bounces off the walls, a sweet chuckle that makes your heart rate pick up. You could listen to him laugh all day long.

“S’pose it did.”

“The fuck are you two over here laughing at, huh?” Suddenly Josh’s curls are squished between your seats, his cheeks pinched together as he speaks. “I’m trying to get some shut-eye but I can’t from all the babbling—”

Jake places his hand over entirety of his twin’s face, pressing him through and back into his own seat. “None of your business, fuck off.”

You laugh at their antics, knowing in the back of your mind that you had better get used to it. You feel the air kick on again, fiercely blowing the freezing cold air directly onto you. You shiver a little, balling yourself up and pulling your sleeves closely in toward you again.

“You want my jacket?” Jake asks, already starting to pull it from his shoulders.

“No! No no no, thank you, but I’m fine, really.” The last thing you need is that right off that bat. A bad look. Day one. Nope.

“Seriously, I run naturally hot. Take it.” He replies.

“Oh yeah? Hence all your layers?” You tease, repositioning in your seat.

“It’s a fashion statement, thank you very much.” He bites. “All about comfort for me.”

Gotta change the subject.

“So tell me something I should know about your brothers. Something that would give me brownie points if I wanted to say…impress them with my craft service skills…” you press, giving him a new challenge.

“Wow um, let’s see…” he brings his fingers to his chin and thinks hard, and you can’t help but feel endeared by the fact that he truly wants to help you out. “Josh stays away from chocolate and dairy and sweets and all that, but his guilty pleasure is those cotton candy flavored grapes. Weird, I know.”

“Oh my god, those are so nasty!” you laugh, but still take note.

“Danny would be over the moon if you surprised him with salsa verde Doritos, and Sam drinks kombucha more than the normal human should.” he finishes with a stern nod.

“Got it. I think I can make most of that happen, aside from the grapes…”

“He would kiss you right on the lips, I’m telling you.” Jake giggles again, and you notice how he lights up when he talks about them.

“So Josh is the dramatic softie, what about the other two?” you ask.

“Sam’s kinda serious but he’s playful when he wants to be. Sneaky, too. Daniel’s always into something, always busy. Man doesn’t like to sit still,” he concludes, and you commit it all.

“And what about you?” you ask, feeling your stomach flip for some reason.

“I thought you said you wanted to get your own versions of us,” he quipped back, parroting your words from earlier. Damn, you had said that.

You toss your hair behind your shoulder. “I did but…You’ll tell me all about them, but not about yourself?”

He crunches his lips together as his eyes scan your face. It makes you a little uncomfortable, how hard he’s really looking at you, but you let him. Stopping him would be a sin you weren’t ready to commit just yet.

“That’s right.”

The two of you drift off into silence again as the minutes tick by, thankfully not being embarrassingly interrupted by Josh anymore. You decide that you want to listen to some music, so you reach into the pocket of your bag and pull out your AirPods, slipping the left one in first followed by the right. You pull up your music and begin flipping through your playlists, searching for something to match the relaxed tone of the hour. Truly, you feel like you could easily drift off to sleep.

You find a nice quiet playlist and curl up in your seat, halfway reluctant you didn’t take Jake’s jacket, but also proud of yourself for saying no. You’re fucking freezing.

You turn your head to the side and close your eyes, ready to drift off into another world.

You’re jolted awake by turbulence, the plane shaking again as you wake up and get your bearings. “Shit,” you breathe as you sit up straighter, remembering exactly where you are. You notice that in your slumber, your head had fallen against Jake’s shoulder. Fuck. Fuck fuck.

The turbulence only lasts a few seconds before it evens out again, and the calmness returns to your body. You glance at Jake, seeing him looking a little drowsy and shaken, too.

“Jake, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, why didn’t you wake me? I—”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I kinda dozed off, too,” he replies, stretching his arms high above his head without a care…not like he didn’t just have a stranger asleep with her head on his shoulder.

You look down, noticing that in the time you had drifted off, Jake had covered you with his coat.

You panic, scrambling a little as you work to pull it from your body before anyone notices.

His hands are quickly on yours, stopping your action. “Leave it, Y/N. You were shivering in your sleep…you can’t tell me you aren’t cozy right now…” his voice is barely a whisper, and the warmth of his hands grazing overtop of yours, even for a second, is enough to give you a whole other type of chill.

“Yeah, I—I am warm…” you can’t deny that your body temperature has increased by at least a couple of degrees, and your fingers don’t feel like they’re going to get frostbite anymore. The jacket is heavy, heavier than it looks, and it smells like fresh pine needles and woodsy body soap. Just like…him?

“See?” he growls, backing away. “Just stay put.”

Stay put? You want to bite back with something that will put him in his place; you explicitly told him you didn’t want his jacket, and he covered you anyway. While you were unconscious. While you couldn’t turn down the offer.

…But you’re so warm, now. Your tense muscles are finally relaxing. The frigidity of the space has suddenly turned into a toasty furnace with a crackling fire.

Okay, but just until we land…

“What are you listening to?” Jake asks as he stretches again. You turn your phone for him to see, showing a generic playlist of Peaceful Sleep Songs lighting up your lock screen.

“Agh, no, what is that shit?” Jake snatches your phone from your hand, quickly flipping the screen to unlock with your face before he begins shuffling through your playlists.

“What are you doing?!” you yelp, reaching for your phone back. He raises his free hand to the air, stopping you from taking it.

“Aht aht… I’m finding you something better to listen to. Don’t worry about it.” You suddenly hear the quiet music in your ears switch to something else, something you knew for a fact you hadn’t ever heard before. You give it a second as he turns the volume up a few notches, and you realize that it is most definitely brand new to you.

It’s a solemn, tense-feeling piano beat, followed in by guitar. Lyrics only come in after a minute and a half or so. It sounds like growling, deep and hollow and a bit scary, but beautiful nonetheless. He’s watching your face as you experience it, quickly pressing pause as the song comes to a close.

“What was that?” you ask, realizing you had really enjoyed it.

“That was a song called Intro, by Alt-J. I know you’ve heard of Alt-J.” he says as he goes back to work on the phone.

You slowly shake your head from side to side. “Can’t say I have, actually.”

His jaw goes slack as his eyebrows raise in disbelief. “What? Like, never?”

You feel your cheeks turning pink at the thought of a literal rockstar calling you out on your lack of music knowledge.

“I don’t think so! That’s not what I normally listen to…don’t judge me,” you laugh, reaching for your phone again.

He swats your hand away. “Ohh no, little fledgling. You’re listening to this. This is the good shit…” he presses play again as a twinkling high-pitched voice comes through your ears. It’s just jumbled words, no backing music or tune. The acapella strikes you as strange at first, until the end when it changes tone a bit, and it’s almost as if the lyrics are giving you advice you didn’t ask for. Warning you of something new and exhilarating, or better yet, dangerous and foreboding. It almost feels as if a black cloud has overcome you, only for a split second, letting you feel the nonexistent pokes and pinches that come along with the emotion of worry.

The song flows directly into another now, one layered with a lot more sound, and it pulls you from that odd headspace the previous had put you in. You lean over the armrest, looking at the screen to see the title Tessellate. You’ve never heard anything like this kind of music before, and you wonder why Jake chose this particular artist.

“This is one of their more popular ones, like radio popular, but it’s still one of my favorites on this album. Here in a second you’ll hear it slow down—”

You stop him by pulling your right earbud out, shoving it in his hand. “Shh, you can talk me through the songs later. Let me listen.”

He shuts his mouth, giving you a sweet grin as he takes the bud, placing it in his own ear and pressing play again. You continue on through the album, each song something brand new to you, a genre you’d really never delved into but wish you had, now. It’s enthralling, different, and full of sounds that make your mind sway and swim through mixtures of color and gray.

You watch as Jake’s fingers tap along exactly with the beat of each song perfectly, down to a tee. The words don’t make much sense to you, and you can hardly distinguish what the singer is saying, but you know that Jake will give you a rundown of it all as soon as time allows him. You don’t know much about him, but his persistence is already apparent. You glance to see his eyelashes hitting his cheeks, his head barely bobbing side to side as he feels the music. You find yourself envious that he can draw inspiration and act on it, turning it into art of his own, whereas all you can do is sit back and listen to it.

Every couple of minutes he perks up from his meditation and adds new songs from their other albums onto the little playlist he’s started for you. You can’t quite make out what he’s titled it, but you can tell it's an emoji of some sort. His thumb flips and flies with precision across your screen as he scrolls and adds songs, and you have to admit, you’re a little excited to get your phone back and learn just what he’s creating for you. Especially for you.

You take a quick deep breath as you recenter yourself, catching your eyes drifting over his hand as he grips your phone. The veins in his hand roll over his knuckles, and you can just barely see the scuffed and calloused ends of his fingertips. Dial it the fuck back Y/N, remember the rules.

“Oooh, this is another one of my favorites,” he remarks, his mouth fairly close to your ear as he tries not to raise his voice over the volume of the music. He turns the screen a little so you can see the title, Taro. “You haven’t— You didn’t come to any of our shows last year by chance, did you?”

You feel a big pang of guilt shoot through your chest, remembering that you had actually been invited by some friends to see them way back when, but you’d turned the invitation down, not knowing who they even were at the time. You shake your head from side to side. “No, I didn’t.”

“This is one of the ones we play to the crowd before we go on. We all love it, it’s a sad, sad love tale based on true events. That’s the cool thing about this group, their lyrics are never really about what you think they are. They’re storytellers, a bit like Josh is, if you think about it. Their themes and over arcs are just…mind blowing sometimes.” Jake’s voice is a tiny murmur in your ear as your shoulders lean on one another’s again, still very taken with the music flowing through your ear. “We grab a lot of inspo from them, sonically and melodically…” You can feel his breath on your cheek, and you find yourself wondering what it would taste like…

“Here, read along with the lyrics. Try not to cry.” He hands your phone back, letting you keep up with the words floating down your screen. And he’s right, it’s heartbreaking without even knowing the context.

“Wow…That was really beautiful,” you choke, realizing the depth of the story of the song.

“Yep. Good shit, I told you.” He whips his hand around and takes the phone back as the next song comes in and warms your bones up again. You can feel the bare skin of his elbow brushing against yours, realizing that he was telling the truth about being naturally warm-bodied. Suddenly you don’t feel so bad about cuddling up under his coat.

He opens your contacts app and adds himself, placing the sword emoji beside his name. He smirks as he hands the phone back.

“Added your phone number, huh?” you ask rhetorically.

He sucks his teeth as he cracks his fingers. “Yep. How else will I let you know what I might need? Plus, never know when you might need to call me.”

—

You watch the signs overhead illuminate, a gentle tone ringing through the cabin as the Captain starts to make an announcement. You pause the song and pull your AirPod out, watching Jake do the same.

“Hey folks, this is your Captain speaking. Just want to let you know we will be landing in Hamburg shortly. I’d expect to be on the ground in the next ten minutes or so, putting us about fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, so sit tight and we’ll have you on the ground in a few. Attendants please prepare for arrival.”

You turn to look at Jake, shrugging as you slide your AirPod back into the case. He raises his eyebrows and drops his jaw. “But we aren’t done! Wait! Hold on!”

He grabs your phone again, and from what you can see he is adding more songs to your playlist. You watch as he scrolls through various different albums by different artists, adding songs as quickly as he can. You smirk as you catch sight of the emoji he’s chosen, the chick icon, a playful nod at his earlier fledgling comment. He peeks over at you every few seconds, trying his best to hurry so you can pack up your things, but in a last effort you watch as he adds himself as a collaborator to the playlist.

You raise an eyebrow to him as he hands your phone back to you, shrugging with a soft laugh. You feel your insides swirl at the sight of his smile, and you turn your eyes to your phone scrolling through the songs on the playlist. You turn back to him and nod, a silent agreement that you will listen just as you feel the plane starting to land.

“I wanna keep adding songs for you to listen to, fledgling. If you want me to, of course…”

You nod. “Of course I do. School away, Jake,” you reply with an air of playful annoyance.

He chuckles. “I plan to.”

As you brace for the landing you grip your hands into the arm rests, letting go of the soft worn in corduroy fabric you’d been playing with for the last hour. Your eyes squint closed as the plane touches down, jolting everyone forward in their seats. Jake grabs his phone as the plane slows down, flashing his screen at you to show a local time of 12:13AM.

“I see some jet lag in our future,” you smile, sliding his jacket off of your arms. You fold it the best you can and hand it back to him, almost sad you have to give it back to him. “Thanks again for that.”

“Oh yeah, no problem.” He accepts it graciously from you, letting out a soft breath as he unfolds it and slides it back over his shoulders. It fits his personality well, soft and sturdy, worn in and weathered. He flips his hair out from beneath the collar, a barely there smell of peppermint passing through the air. You pull your gaze away from him just as you see his cheeks start to blush from your gaze. You lock your phone and stick it into your backpack at your feet, wondering how in such a short amount of time Jake has managed to infiltrate your thoughts so completely.

JAKE POV

As she turns to grab her bag you open your phone, tapping on the notification that she has added you to her playlist. You accept the invitation with a sly smile before sliding your phone back into your coat pocket. It smells like her now, soft and floral, very different than anything you were used to. Your mind was already circling with things you wanted to add to that playlist when you got a minute, finding it was harder than you thought to think of songs on the fly.

The first few rows begin to file out of the plane and you watch as Paul stands and turns to look at Y/N, motioning to her to meet up with him after she got off the plane. She nods her head and slides her backpack straps over her shoulders, waiting for her turn to stand.

“For jet lag…You know…Um, Benadryl,” you offer, your voice a little soft and unsure.

She turns to look at you, pinching her brows together in question.

“When you get to your room tonight, take a Benadryl. Should knock you out until the morning and help you get on a normal schedule. Works for me, at least.” you finish, nodding to her as the people in front of you stand to leave.

“Thanks, Jake.” She smiles and nods, sliding out of her seat to walk down the aisle.

You watch her as she walks up the jet bridge towards the gate, seeing Paul waiting for her in the doorway. The two walk together through the airport, finding it fairly quiet at this hour as most of the flights have landed for the night. You push your sunglasses down onto your nose just as you feel Josh walking up behind you.

He gives you a gentle nudge in the side to get your attention. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Easy flight,” you answer, still listening and catching bits and pieces of whatever Paul is saying to Y/N, prepping her for the hotel check in and details for the morning. She is typing notes on her phone as she walks, barely looking where she is going, clearly trusting Paul to look out for her more than she should.

You tune out Josh as he rambles on about the flight, Ty jumping in every few words with a retort or a laugh. Your eyes don’t seem to leave her though, watching her talk, watching her walk, shit, just watching her. You can’t seem to shake it. You’d never met anyone like her before. Someone you were so instantly taken with. You wanted to know every single detail about her.

You feel Josh’s hand as it comes up to your chin, pressing it upward and forcing your jaw shut. “There, you seemed to have dropped that.”

You turn to him angrily, knowing what he’s insinuating, giving him a hard elbow to the arm. “Fuck off, Josh.”

He laughs and pushes you with his shoulder, readjusting his backpack on his other shoulder. “Just an observation, that’s all. Can’t say I blame you, though.”

“Oh are you talking about Jake and Y/N?” Sam interjects, stepping up on your right side in a lanky stride.

Josh nods, laughing slightly, wanting to keep this banter going. Asshole.

“Can you two knock it off, fuck,” you growl, hoping she can’t hear them. Your eyes are locked in on her again, and much to your relief she is talking to Paul and can’t hear a word they’re saying.

“He didn’t shut up the entire flight. Lots of whispering and giggles from up there. I didn’t sleep at all. But I did hear his monologue about the genius of Alt-J for the fourth time this year.” Josh quips, earning a laugh from everyone around you.

“Fuck you again, Josh,” you spit, annoyed at his lack of respect.

“Damn, so you’re trying to scare her away, then?” Sam teases, giving you a sideways grin.

You shake your head and push past them forcefully as you step off the escalator into baggage claim, not wanting to engage in this conversation a second longer. Especially because you were afraid they might be right.

—

“Shit, not again,” Danny mumbles as you all approach the baggage claim area, immediately noticing a group of fans obviously waiting for your arrival. You take a deep, preparational breath as you can’t help but run into them on your path to the carousel.

“Let’s just get it over with,” you hear Josh complain as he puts on his faux-happy face. You all love meeting fans. Truly, watching their faces light up when they see you is something that is unparalleled. But coming off of a long flight and already feeling the effects of the time difference, starving, and ready for a drink usually puts all of you in a mood that is generally irked overall. But you always suck it up; this is the life you signed up for.

This time though, unlike most encounters with fans, is enough to make your general irritation quickly turn into intense aggravation. They swarm you, hugging and pulling and invading your spaces in an extremely unwelcome attempt at meeting each of you. You feel surrounded, and unable to get to your luggage in time before it rounds the carousel again. You keep your cool, just as you always do, curtly smiling and pulling away as your body instructs you to. You pause for quick photos as your eyes search the spinning luggage again. You see your brothers out of the corners of your eyes doing the same… quick ‘hellos’ and ‘nice to meet you’s’ as the crowd just seems to get bigger and bigger.

Just as your eyes finally fall on your suitcase, you hear a loud clack as you turn and notice someone has knocked Sam’s phone out of his hand. It lands face down on the tile floor, likely cracked and scuffed from the people crowding around you all. You watch as Sam’s face turns up in annoyance, his eyes closed as he composes himself.

“Okay, that’ll be enough!” You hear Dean, your security, bellow across the crowd. “Please step away, no more photos, no more photos…” Dean makes his way into the center of group, quickly dispersing them. You give Sam a quick look that says, ‘get your phone, let’s go’, and soon enough you’re rolling your suitcase through the middle of the crowded room.

You see Y/N in the crowd, finding her to be a little flustered from the encounters, but alright nonetheless. You lock eyes with her as she mouths, ‘Are you okay?’, and you nod her off with a look of, ‘Yeah, this happens all the time.’

Your team is surrounding you as you quickly walk through the hallway toward the exit, ready to hop into an unmarked van and zip away to your hotel. You’re still being followed as you make it through the back exit doors.

When you’re finally safe outside the pickup area, everyone breathes a sigh of relief. “Fuck, that was a bad one.” Danny says. “Sam, how's your phone?”

“It’s ok, just a little scuff in the corner but it’ll be fine,” he answers, scanning his eyes over it.

“Guys, keep your phones on, Wes will be texting you tomorrow with where we’re headed next. Get some sleep and something to eat.” Paul instructs as everyone loads their things into the vans. Y/N is standing nearby, and you can tell that she feels a little out of place as she awkwardly crosses one ankle over the other. You take a quick opportunity to knock your elbow into her side, feeling comfortable enough to do that now that you’d sat together so long on the plane, but she’s avoiding eye contact. You hope she doesn’t feel uncomfortable around you.

“Hey, thanks for letting me jam a little with you on the plane,” you say sheepishly. “Sorry if I overstepped any, but I really think you’ll like the music I added for you.”

Finally her composure opens a little. “No, no! You didn’t… overstep. I’m actually excited to hop in my big cozy hotel bed and listen again.” Her words make your stomach fall with nerves, but you quickly suppress it.

“Y/N, you ready?” you hear Wes ask her as he passes by, heading toward another van.

“Yep, all set!” she answers as she follows him through the dwindling group. She hops into another van, and you worry she’ll be staying at another hotel. For a second you think you won’t see her as much if she is. You climb inside the van and slam the door closed behind you, seeing the group of fans with their phones pressed to the windows of the airport. You plop back down into the middle seat beside Josh, and finally take a full breath of relief.

“Fuck! I swear to god if I’m getting sick again…” Josh says as he bangs his head against the headrest behind him. You scoot sideways on the van’s bench seat, staying as far away from him as you can.

“Are you serious?!” Danny says from the seat behind you. “You need a mythical medicine man or some shit.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine, just feel a little congested. I’ll send Y/N out on her first mission for some meds after we get settled in the hotel.” Josh answers, and you keep yourself pressed against the van’s window, purposefully turning your back to him. Can’t have that again. You realize, though, that of course she’ll be in the same hotel as you, management always is.

The vision of a worried Y/N replays in your mind, seeing her face full of concern as the fans did all but ambush you earlier. You shake the thought, suddenly having a realization that, most likely, everyone else is having, too.

“I think we should amp up security,” you blurt. “No offense to Dean, but he’s only one guy. There are more than ten of us…” you’re met with a little bit of silence, so you press on. “Just while we’re over here, at least. We’re going to be separated a lot, and I think it would be a good idea if Dean wasn’t being pulled in all different directions.”

“Don’t you think we should have thought of that before we got over here, Jake?” Josh counters.

“I’ve actually been thinking it for a while. Today just…made me feel like it’s necessary, now,” you respond quietly. What could it hurt? You have the funds, and a few extra eyes on you and your team couldn’t be a bad thing.

You hear a collective sigh from your brothers, until Sam finally speaks. “Yeah, I kinda felt a little overwhelmed when I dropped my phone and it got kicked away from me. First world problems, I know, but—”

“But someone could have picked it up, and ran off with it. Gotten access to your private information. Stepped on it and shattered it. We’re probably just paranoid, but I don’t know. I don’t think it’s a bad idea…” you suggest.

“I like the idea.” Josh adds. “Wish we would have talked about it sooner, but I’m sure Paul could get something arranged for us. Those security companies are always looking for overseas gigs.”

“Daniel, you agree?” you ask, twisting your body to the backseat.

“Yeah, I do, actually,” he decides.

“Good. It’s settled, then. We’ll talk to Paul first thing in the morning,” you say, happy with your decision of bringing it up. All you can see is a memory of Y/N’s scared face replaying over and over in your mind, and you just can’t seem to shake it.

You quickly curse yourself, you’re in no headspace to be worrying about a woman right now. You’ve gotta keep your head on straight. Tour hasn’t even started yet, and you’re already letting a new girl give you butterflies. You audibly scoff at yourself as you lean your elbow on the window, looking out at the bustling streets outside. You throw your earbuds in, letting the tangle of cords just be what it is, and you pull your phone out to switch the volume up. Of course, Alt-J pops onto your screen the second you look at it, and you wonder if she’s already listening to them, too.

The city lights are twinkling through the light drizzle of rain, and you finally feel your bones starting to settle into tiredness. Though your mind is racing with excitement to play shows, you let yourself ignore the thoughts and relax into the music blessing your ears. Some room service and a down comforter is calling your name.

—--

HER POV

The shrill sound of your hotel room telephone wakes you from a half-sleep. What the hell? What time is it? You don’t remember falling asleep, but the loud TV and the lights still illuminating the room signify you must have accidentally dozed off.

“Hello?” you answer, realizing that no matter the time, duty calls.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Paul. Sorry if I woke you…”

“No, you’re fine. I’m awake,” you lie.

“Cool. Um, Josh was wondering if you’d run to the pharmacy down the street and pick up the meds I just texted you. He said he would go get them himself, but he’s doing a lung steaming treatment or… something. I dunno. But if you don’t care, here’s your first assignment! I know it’s late, but the pharmacy is apparently open all night.”

You glance at your watch and see that it’s already nearing 1:00AM. “Sure! I don’t care at all. Tell him I’ll have them to him ASAP.”

“Will do. Hey, turn your location on for me and Wes, okay? Be safe, thanks again,” Paul hangs up the phone before you can say goodbye, and within seconds you’re crawling out of bed and putting your pants back on. Your stomach growls as you realize you fell asleep without eating anything. You make a plan to make a quick trip to the pharmacy, deliver Josh his medicine, then go back out to find something to eat before you end up eating the bag of peanuts you stuffed in your bag on the plane.

You take a second to check your messages, finding you have three unread messages from Ruth. In the mess and confusion of the day, and the time difference, you’ve been thrown for a loop. You shoot her a quick few texts to let her know you’re alive and well, but you leave out the sweet little detail that you’d shared AirPods with the guitarist of the band you’re touring with. You’d get into that part later.

The walk to the pharmacy is short, thankfully, and you find the things Josh needs without much of an issue at all. The city is still fairly crowded with people at this hour, and you make sure to track your steps backward just the way you came to get back to the hotel. Your stomach rumbles again, and the smells coming from the various restaurants around you have your head spinning with hunger.

A few quiet knocks on Josh’s hotel room door bring him to answer it within seconds, and his warm composure instantly makes you feel welcome. “Y/N! Thank you so much, seriously. I need to knock this shit out before it gets any worse, and I think you just saved the day,’ he gushes as you see clouds of steam pouring out of his cracked bathroom door, and smell the sweet scent of herbal fragrances as they waft through your nose. “You have any trouble finding the place? Google said it was close by…”

“Anytime, Josh. And no, actually. It was right around the corner,” you answer, handing him the bag of meds.

“Good. Well I won’t bother you again, you heading to sleep?” he asks with a warm tone.

You bite the inside of your lip as your stomach screams at you again. “No, I passed a little pub on my walk, and it smelled amazing as I walked by. Think I’m gonna go have a drink and get something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Go feed yourself, love. Enjoy the city. We’ve got a long day tomorrow!”

“Will do, see you tomorrow!” you say as he closes the door.

“Thanks again! See ya!”

You make your way to the elevator and down to the bottom floor, digging your phone out of your pocket to check your location and make sure the pub is still going to be open at this hour. A quick search for Le Marmitone tells you the kitchen doesn’t close for another hour, so you pick up your pace and head straight for the pub.

The wind and rain have picked up a little bit, and you thank yourself for adding a few layers on before you left your hotel room earlier. The cold air bites at your cheeks as you meander through the people still out walking the streets, and the smell of the food drifting on the wind draws you straight back to the pub. Upon entering the double doors, you find that it is actually a nice restaurant with a bar.

You grab a seat at the corner of the bar, glancing to the coolers and shelves to see what your drink options are.

“Evening madame, here is a menu. Can I get you a beverage?” a man in a sport coat asks as he hands you the shiny white menu. His accent is thick, but you can understand him fairly easily.

“Hello. Could I have a whiskey soda and a water, please?” you ask as you remove your heavy jacket and hang it over the back of the stool. You look over the menu choices and decide on a bowl of soup and a sandwich, more of a lunch option, but a steaming hot bowl of soup sounds exactly like what you need right now.

There are a few people still scattered throughout the restaurant, most closing their tabs and leaving for the night. There are a few patrons still at the bar, stuck in conversations with one another or watching whatever game is playing on the big screen.

The bartender sets your drinks in front of you as you tell him your food order, and you pull out your phone to begin fishing through emails and making your daily checklists. The Whiskey drink is strong, but not too strong, and you let yourself enjoy the immediate warmth it sends coursing through your veins.

You fill your stomach up as far as it will allow you, and you decide that one more drink probably won’t hurt, as the place doesn’t close up for another hour. You’re enjoying yourself, basking in the calm before the storm that is going to hit promptly at 10AM tomorrow.

“‘Scuse me, sir. I’ll take one more drink and my check, please,” you alert the bartender. He nods and turns to concoct your drink and print your tab. When he returns, he plops a bright red maraschino cherry onto the top.

“Gentleman at the end of the bar says this one is on him, ma’am.” He places the white slip of paper in front of you as he removes your dishes, and disappears. Your eyes slowly drift to the left, landing on an older gentleman who had been lingering at the end of the bar since you’d gotten here. His friends have since left, leaving him to finish off a few more rounds by himself.

He smiles hard when you notice him, and slides off his stool, stumbling his way toward you. You feel your heart rate pick up as he approaches you, and you remember that you do have mace in your purse, should you need it, Ruth’s one request.

“Hello, lovely. Enjoy that drink on me this evening,” he slurs with a heavy accent. He sits down in the stool beside you, and suddenly you’d rather not have that second drink, after all. You glance at the drink, and back to him, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable in his presence.

“Um, thank you, really. But I—I’ve actually got to go. It’s getting to be later than I thought…” you lie, pulling out some cash from your purse to pay the bill.

“Nonsense! Have the drink, beautiful. Tell me, where are you from? Your accent tells me it’s somewhere far away from here…” he presses, pushing the drink toward you. His hands are giant, and covered in dark hair. He has a beard of the same color that reaches almost down to his stomach, and you can smell the alcohol radiating from his breath.

“The States,” you say bluntly, avoiding eye contact with him as the bartender is nowhere to be found. You immediately kick yourself for not telling Dean where you had run off to, all by yourself. You know better than this.

“Obviously, sweetheart. But where?” he asks.

“Um, a small town, you’ve probably never heard of it,” you go on, beginning to pull your jacket on and leave the money on the bar top. Suddenly the man’s hand is on the back of the stool, holding it steady as you try to turn it.

“I’d like to hear all about it, love,” he growls, and you suddenly feel very intimidated. There is no one else around, no other patrons at the bar, you couldn’t feel the presence of another human or employee running about, and you contemplated making a run for it.

“I promise I’m not here to scare you, just talk. That’s all I’d like to do…” he goes on, backing his hand away from the chair as he notices your panic. Finally, the bartender makes his way back, but instead of taking your check, he continues cleaning and re-stocking for the night. You’re alone, and uncomfortable. Why did you do this to yourself?

Suddenly you remember that Jake put his number in your phone. You know you can’t get a hold of Dean at this hour, especially since you didn’t tell him you were going anywhere. You can’t make that bad of a first impression before your first day even really happens.

You quickly turn your attention to your phone, trying to figure out what to do, but then it hits you. You type in the name, taking a deep breath before sending Jake a risky text as a last ditch effort.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here alone, hmm?” the man asks as you turn away from him to type as quickly as you can.

You

1:47AM: Jake, are you awake?

Your foot taps nervously on the floor, the man next to you doing everything in his power to corner you into this seat. A text bounces back after a minute, and you feel your shoulders relax just a touch.

Jake 🗡

1:49AM: How did you get this number?

You

1:50AM: You put it in my phone today on the plane. Are you busy?

Jake 🗡

1:51AM: Oh, hey. No, I’m just getting ready to go to bed, why what’s up? You okay?

You

1:52AM: No. I don’t think so. I hate to ask this, I know it’s late. Is there any way you could come meet me? I left to get something to eat and didn't tell anyone and this guy here has me cornered into my seat and I don't think he is gonna let me leave alone.

Jake 🗡

1:53AM: Share your location, I’m leaving now.

You

1:54AM: Thank you. I owe you.

“Did you hear me sweetheart? I said, are you expecting someone?” the man asks, a sly grin on his face as he leans closer to you.

You quickly glance back down at your phone, sharing your location with Jake and hoping he can find you. You lock your phone and put it in your purse, pretending you’re a lot less anxious than you actually are.

“Actually, yes, I am. My…boyfriend is on his way. He’ll be here in just a second.” you lie, doing your best to speak confidently. “I should probably step outside to meet him.”

“No, no, stay, you haven’t touched your drink,” he says, gesturing to the glass of alcohol. “I know a place down the street, stays open late, too.”

You feel your skin start to grow clammy, the man's intentions suddenly becoming very clear. Your heart is pounding as you try to talk your way out of the situation. You clear your throat, and just as you start to speak you see the front door of the restaurant open. Jake steps inside, looking side to side, his eyes quickly scanning the entirety of the restaurant until he locks eyes with you.

He nods to the host at the door as he walks toward you, wearing the same clothes from earlier but now his hair is a little messier. You know he got out of bed to do this.

You instantly stand from your seat as Jake steps up, reaching towards him as he settles himself between you and the man.

“Hey baby, you finally made it,” you coo, your pleading eyes locked on Jake’s as he wraps his arm around your shoulder in a welcoming hug. You can smell him, the cologne lingering on his coat. The same coat that was wrapped around you only hours ago.

He pulls away and drops his arms to his side as you turn to him. You stare at him just a second longer, hoping he can hear the words you are screaming in your mind. He blinks and turns to look at the man before letting his eyes flick back to you.

“Yeah, yeah, of course babe, sorry I was late,” he pauses, turning to face the drunk man beside him. “Who is this?”

You let out a small breath of relief as he silently agrees to play along with you. “Oh, he came over from the bar. He sent this drink over, but I just can’t drink it. I already had one and you know I work in the morning,” you answer, hoping he is understanding what you’re trying to say. “Do you want it?”

He looks so effortless standing there with a hand in his jacket pocket. He tilts his head and scrunches his nose just a bit before answering, “Ahh, nah…It looks like a watered down well pour and I just had one myself before I got here. I’m alright. We should probably get going though, we have an early day tomorrow and it’s fairly late already.”

Yes.

“Oh, you two are terrible liars. He isn’t your boyfriend, is he sweetheart?” the man asks, scoffing at Jake. “You should come with me, I can show you the city better than this fool.”

“That’s an awfully brazen assumption, sir, I must say.” Jake argues, pulling his hand from his coat pocket and grabbing yours. You suck in a harsh breath feeling his fingers lace with yours. Fake or not, there was definitely a new feeling swirling through your veins.

“Look at her, she’s flustered. This woman hasn’t ever been touched by you. It’s written all over her face.” he continues, looking Jake over.

“Your boyfriend, your husband, he isn’t any of those things. I don’t see a ring on your finger, and I don’t know how they do things where you’re from, but in this country, you my dear, are fair game.”

You want to snap back. The audacity is astounding. You start to step forward, ready to lay into him, but you feel Jake’s hand squeeze yours and you know he’s telling you to follow his lead this time.

“She is with me, sir,” Jake spits. “And it would be in your best interest to back off.”

“Oh, is that right?” the man counters, standing up from his seat, giving him a few good inches over Jake. Jake didn’t falter though. Of course he didn’t. He knew that didn’t matter.

“Kiss her, then. If she’s yours, kiss her,” he quips.

“Absolutely not, I don’t have to prove anything to you, and quite frankly sir, it’s none of your business,” Jake snaps, you can tell he’s starting to get mad, his hand gripping yours a little harder. “Let’s go, babe.”

You stand firm next to him, not letting your face show a single waiver of emotion as the man waits to see if you’ll crack. Jake starts to walk away pulling you behind him, but before you can move the man grabs your other arm, taking both of you by surprise.

“Stay, sugar. Let a real man take you home.”

Jake snaps his head around, hearing the words fall from the man's drunken mouth. For a minute you’re scared. You don’t know how Jake is going to react, his jaw is hard set and his nostrils flared in anger. You hear him curse under his breath as he shakes his head.

“You know what? Fuckin’ fine…” he challenges, looking at the man then to you, nodding just enough for you to notice.

Just as you feel the anxiety of what he is about to do bloom in your chest, he reads your body language, letting a sweet and quiet ‘S’okay’ slip from his lips.

Your eyes widen a little as you realize what’s about to happen, but take solace in the fact that he’s likely just as nervous as you are. He stops, pulling you in towards him as his hand grabs at your waist.

His fingers grip into your hairline as he tilts your head just enough to deepen the kiss. His tongue swipes over your lips, hot and wet as your hands slide up his body to rest on his chest. You kiss him back, you’re trying to sell this as the real thing, but also partly because you just want to. You try not to think about that part too much as you let your tongue flick against his just for a second before pulling it back. You feel the vibration on your lips as the softest groan leaves his mouth just as he pulls away from you.

Your lips are wet with the taste of him and your chest is heaving as Jake rubs his lips together and clears his throat. He turns to the man who is standing there staring at the two of you, a bit of challenge in his tone as he speaks. “You good now?”

The man scoffs, mumbling a curse as he bats at the air between you. You feel yourself relax in Jake’s grip as the man turns to walk back to his original place at the bar. A quiet ‘fuck’ leaves Jake’s mouth as he turns his attention back to you, stepping back and releasing his grip on you.

His eyes search yours just as yours search his, both of you unsure what to say. Instead he looks over to the man again, nodding his head to him as he grabs your hand again and guides you towards the door.

“You okay?” he asks, opening the door and letting you walk out into the drizzle. You pull your jacket closed across your front, the cold air chilling your skin.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Thank you– for that,” you murmur as he steps up next to you. He grabs your hand again, lacing his warm fingers with your cold ones, taking you by surprise.

“Oh, it’s okay now Jake, he isn’t following us,” you offer, looking over your shoulder to check. He doesn’t drop your hand though, in fact you feel his fingertips brush across your knuckles, sending a whole different kind of chill through your body.

“I know,” he answers, smiling shyly as he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye. You’re positive he can see the blush that has taken over your cheeks, your mouth suddenly dry, and your mind unable to form a response. You feel the butterflies swirling around in your stomach as you walk towards the hotel, the rain starting to taper off finally.

“You can trust me, you know,” he says, his voice sincere as he guides you around puddles.

“I barely know you, Jake,” you smile, bumping your shoulder into his.

“For now,” he answers, squeezing your hand in his.

He opens the door to the hotel lobby, the warm air instantly hitting you. Jake drops your hand, your fingertips brushing against his. You kind of miss it, in a way you definitely shouldn’t be.

“Thank you again, for doing all of that. I’m really sorry. I fucked up, I won’t make that mistake again,” you say, watching him press the button for the elevator. Your eyes linger on his lips, a little pink from the cold air outside.

“It was no problem, I promise. Stop apologizing,” he pauses, motioning for you to step into the elevator. “Let me walk you to your room, what floor?” he asks, his finger hovering over the buttons.

“Oh, no it’s really okay, you don’t have to do that. I promise I’m good now,” you stammer, watching his lips turn up in a huff of laughter.

“Y/N, what floor?”

“Nine,” you squeak, your eyes fixated on the dimple in his cheek. You feel your skin growing warm just from looking at him, you feel like you might burst into flames just at the thought of how his lips felt on yours. Did you imagine that whole encounter? No way all of that just happened.

“Me as well,” he says, pressing the button as the doors close.

The two of you ride up in silence, casting each other the occasional glance every few seconds. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you're positive you stopped breathing. The elevator chimes as it reaches the ninth floor, and you nearly jump out of your skin at the sound.

He smiles at you again as the doors open, gesturing for you to walk ahead of him. “Your room number?”

“Um, I think I'm 924, all the way down,” you answer, your heart jumping in your chest.

He nods his head and puts a hand into his pocket. “Alright, I’m just up here in 915, but I’ll walk you down.”

“Jake you really don’t have to, you can just–”

He turns to you and laughs, shaking his head again. “Just let me.”

“Fine.” You huff a breath, pulling your own keycard from your purse. He walks only a step behind you, both hands in his pockets now as you step up to your door. You tap your key to the lock and hear it beep, signaling for you to enter. You turn to look at Jake, seeing a softness to his face you hadn’t noticed until now.

“Thank you, for…being such a gentleman,” you say playfully, smiling at him.

“My pleasure, Miss Y/N. There is some chivalry left in the world…” he answers, bringing his hand up to rub at his lips.

You start to enter your room, and hear him speak again, this time very quietly. “We’re not all bad.”

You turn around to see him shifting his weight still rubbing his fingers over his chin as if he expected you not to hear him.

“What?”

He hesitates as he makes eye contact with you, clearly shocked you heard him. You can tell he wants to say something but he’s holding back. Maybe you’ve spooked him.

He shakes his head with a smile, as if telling himself whatever he wanted to say was stupid. He pulls his phone and his keycard from his pocket and grips them in his hand. “Nothing, nothing, um, have a good evening. I will see you in the morning, I suppose.”

You nod once, giving him a sweet and appreciative smile, “See you in the morning.”

He lingers for just a moment, eyes locked on yours before flicking down to your lips. He catches himself and looks back at you before turning to head down the hallway. You shut the hotel room door and twist the lock, letting out the breath you had been holding with a gasp.

You spin around, letting your back press against the door as you sink down to the floor with a barely audible squeal. Holy. Shit. What the hell was that?

Pull yourself together Y/N.

You grab your purse and stand up, digging through it as fast as you can in search of your phone. You have no earthly idea what time it is in Nashville but you don’t care as you pull up your texts with Ruth, and begin furiously typing.

You

2:34AM: Without going into detail I definitely just kissed the guitarist 🫢

You toss your bag onto the chair and change into your pajamas, your blood still rushing around in your body as you try to calm your nervous system. A text bounces back, and you know it’s her.

Ruth

2:40AM: WITHOUT GOING INTO DETAIL???? KISSED? I just got to my desk!!!! I’m here. I’m sat. I’m listening. I want every single detail in a five paragraph essay with MLA formatting.

You

2:42AM: Lol it is 2:40 in the morning. I will call you tomorrow, which is really still today for you, but kinda tomorrow for me? I don’t know this is confusing but I will call you and give you the full run down because we also shared airpods on the plane and he made me a playlist? Love you goodnight!

Ruth

2:44AM: AIRPODS? A PLAYLIST??????

2:45AM: Y/N NO! GET BACK HERE

2:45AM: Okay. Hang on, I’m googling him. I need to see this man’s face

2:46AM: Wait there’s two guitarists

2:46AM: Ok one is the bassist HELLO?? You kissed HIM?! Aldjsfklsk

2:48AM: It’s totally fine and I am being so normal about this. Talk to you later, if I haven’t pulled all my hair out by then! I’ll be creeping his insta all day! Goodnight!

You laugh as you read her onslaught of messages, knowing that she is likely going out of her mind with possible scenarios. You make your way into the bathroom, washing your face and brushing your teeth so that you can positively melt into the bed and sleep until your alarm forces you awake. You’re patting your face dry as your phone buzzes on the bathroom counter, but the noise it makes isn’t one you’re familiar with. You hang the towel on the ring and pick up your phone, seeing a notification come through that is brand new to you.

‘Jake Added A Song to Your Shared Playlist: 🐥’

He what?

Now?

Your blood runs cold just seeing his name on your phone after…well…whatever that was.

You turn off the bathroom light, hesitantly sliding your finger across the notification, and letting it bring up the playlist. There at the very bottom you see that a new song was added two minutes ago. But not just any song, no. You know this one. You know this one well. You tap on the song hearing the familiar and haunting guitar riff of ‘Kiss Me’ by Sixpence None the Richer start to play through your phone speakers.

You can’t help but to laugh, a smile of shock has your jaw hanging wide open as you stand in your giant fancy hotel room, listening to what you consider to be a fairly romantic song sent straight to you from none other than your knight in shining, well, corduroy, armor. You couldn’t even picture him listening to this song, and somehow that almost made it a little better.

As the chorus plays you fall backwards onto your bed, the fluffy white sheets enveloping you as a giddy feeling swirls through your chest. He’s thinking about me. He’s thinking about that kiss. You felt guilty for thinking about it, but now? Now you weren’t feeling so guilty. He liked it just as much as you did, clearly.

Jake Kiszka liked kissing you.

You.

What?

You couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off of your face if you had to. You didn’t want to. This was quite possibly the most thrilling thing that has happened to you in months. Years! You had all but forgotten about creepy bar man at this point, but god you have half a mind to walk right back into that bar and shake his hand.

But, you knew you had to calm down. Take a breath. The song came to a close, leaving the hotel room silent. Your mind was still swimming in bliss, replaying the feeling of his lips on yours, the way his hands held yours, the way he smelled, the way his lips tasted, oh god… He was thinking about your kiss. He all but told you so.

You were also thinking about that kiss. He wanted you to know he was thinking about it. How can you– Oh. A sly grin spreads across your face as you type into the search bar.

You find the song you’re looking for, your thumb hovering over the add button as you try to talk yourself out of doing this. It could end badly, terribly, really. He is technically your boss, and you know you shouldn’t be doing this, but. Hey, you’re just the runner. You smile as you watch the little box pop up reading ‘Added’.

Your heart starts to pound. Did he get a notification? Is he asleep? Did he see it? Will he understand? Since when did you start communicating with people through song titles?

You rush back to the playlist scrolling to the bottom and smiling as you press play on the new addition to your shared playlist. It's mere seconds before ‘Do It Again’ by Steely Dan starts to play and you laugh, knowing you are absolutely crazy. Do it again, of course you wanted to do it again. God he probably thinks you’re such a loser. Plot twist, you are, but he doesn't have to know that yet.

You listen to the song, plugging your phone into the charger and turning off the lamp. You’ve always loved Steely Dan, it reminds you of your dad, but then again who doesn’t it remind of their dad? The song comes to a close, your giddy feeling finally starting to wear off as the exhaustion starts to step into its place. Your eyes feel heavy as you roll towards the nightstand to set your alarm, groaning at how soon it’s coming. You lock your phone and settle into the pillows, letting out a content sigh as you recap the day in all of its insane glory.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the glow illuminating the room for just a brief second. You freeze as you stare up at the ceiling, almost too scared to look. Did he add another song? What if he changed his mind? What if you overstepped? Oh god. You should not have done that. What were you thinking?

You suck in a breath as you grab your phone, nervously tapping the screen that shows no new songs added, but a text from Jake.

Jake 🗡

3:04AM: I fully intend to.

Oh, he definitely saw it.

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morningberriesao3 · 8 months

Text

As Sneaky Link comes to an end, it just means that I’ll get to work on some other fun projects that have been in my drafts for (literally) a year and a half.

The next multi chapter I’m working on is set back in the 80s. Only this time, it’s not Steve who spirals about his sexuality.

Eddie is straight—he’s just never met the right girl to feel that spark. But Steve over the last years has had a secret that he’s told no one. Not even Robin.

Until Eddie walks in on him in a very compromising position. With another man.

I started this fic as something we hardly see in the Steddie fandom—and that’s Steve being the certified queer, and Eddie having a full blown crisis as he figures himself out.

As promised, below the cut is the first 2.4K words of chapter 1, and in February it’ll be posted in its entirety on my ao3: morningberries

Enjoy 🥹

It was a chilly day in early September—the wind carrying half-brown leaves through the air in swirling patterns that looked like mini tornados. Eddie stared at them from his trailer’s living room window as Wayne’s truck disappeared beyond the bend in the road.

Another weekend alone as his uncle worked a double shift.

It’s not that Eddie didn’t have friends. There was Gareth and Jeff and Grant—the members from his beloved band Corroded Coffin—but he knew Jeff was on vacation with his parents before college started and Grant was working with his dad in the garage on that ’69 Mustang they picked up from the scrapyard over the summer. Gareth, although in Hawkins, had landed himself a hot new girlfriend and spent every waking moment with her.

Eddie couldn’t really blame him, even though he didn’t really get it.

It had been the same thing his whole life, if he was being honest with himself. Since middle school, he’d watch his friends start dating whatever chick they had a crush on, listen to them start yammering about how gorgeous she was or how cool or how smart. How she made them get butterflies in their stomachs, whatever the fuck that meant.

Yeah, cool.

Eddie had dated girls—some pretty cute ones at that. There was Sam, who he dated his second senior year, and they’d gotten along really well. She was what Eddie thought should probably be his type—dark hair, a lip ring, wore lipstick in blacks and unearthly blues. She was even in Hellfire Club and honestly kicked ass at it. Objectively, on paper, she was everything he wanted.

Except he didn’t feel it. Whatever it was. The fucking butterflies, or whatever.

When they broke up, it hadn’t really been the end of the world. He mourned their friendship more than the sexual aspect of their relationship, because Sam had been awesome to hang out with and smoke with and laugh with.

Gareth hadn’t believed Eddie when he said he was fine—took a solid 4 months before Gare actually accepted that Eddie’s heart wasn’t shattered.

Eddie cared more about… God, like, anything but dating. Like D&D, and his friends, and his guitar, and Metallica’s newest album, and making his fucking bed in the morning, and even his therapist. He knew it didn’t really help him look normal to be a twenty-year-old man who couldn’t care less about pursuing girls, but whatever. He was King Freak, after all.

When he met Chrissy six months ago, he thought for a moment that he might be able to convince himself to have a crush on her. It should be easy; a small, thin, blonde, pretty cheerleader is everyone’s type. Maybe he’d just been chasing after the wrong girls. But what he felt on the drive to his trailer with Chrissy in his front seat, as she timidly told him she thought he was kind and funny, was, again… not the fireworks he expected from all the stories of love at first sight.

And then she’d died, which vastly overshadowed Eddie’s worry that there might be something wrong with him for not developing feelings. He talked about both things in his weekly government mandated therapy sessions. But mostly about her death.

The doctor had told Eddie it wasn’t uncommon to have an aversion to romantic or sexual relationships after experiencing trauma. Eddie didn’t really bother to elaborate that it had started long before said trauma. But whatever.

He digressed.

Gareth had a girlfriend, and they spent their time making out and—apparently now—doing hands and mouth stuff. At least, that’s what Gareth had been bragging about at their last band practice. And, according to him, they were probably going to fuck on this weekend that Eddie was once again alone, so calling Gareth was completely off the table.

He sighed, standing from his uncle’s withered brown couch to walk the ten steps to his bedroom. He plucked his guitar from her hook on the wall, strummed a few chords without bothering to plug her in. If he was really going to talk about trauma responses and aversions, he might as well start with the one he developed for playing his guitar after the epic battle in the Upside Down.

Since the day he nearly bled out on the gravel outside of his trailer (that wasn’t really his trailer, because apparently alternate dimensions are, like, actually a thing), he hadn’t really been able to play anymore. It wasn’t some dramatic thing, like getting wild flashbacks of battling massive fucking hell-bats, or getting feasted on by their fang-filled mouths, or Dustin crying over him, or what if felt like when he literally died for four minutes before he was defibrillated. It was just this soft, but uncomfortable, feeling in his stomach, accompanied by massive brain fog, and a general lack of motivation to learn anything new.

He hung the guitar back where it belonged, in front of his mirror. The reflection that looked back at him looked… well, goddamn bored, for one. And a little anxious. And like he should probably try to reach out to some of his other friends.

There had been some silver linings to the whole everything-he’s-ever-known-about-the-world-has-been-a-lie thing. He did, now, have other friends. Dustin, for one, would hang out with him on days that weren’t D&D related. Although, Eddie was sure that a lot of that was because he had a working vehicle that could tow him around to the arcade, or the diner (where Eddie paid for Dustin’s meals, obviously), or the video store.

Eddie didn’t mind crashing Family Video, because more often than not, it meant he could visit his new age-appropriate friend.

Robin and Eddie had become attached at the hip, honestly. Best friends. Trauma bonded, or something. Or maybe it had more to do with the fact that they were both losers, and somehow both smart and dumb at the same time. They also both talked a lot, and got excited over weird shit, and liked to rag on Dustin. So Eddie really took a liking to Robin.

And here was something that he’d been thinking about for the last few weeks.

Maybe he had a crush on her? It didn’t really sound right, but he did get excited when he got to see her, and his heartrate sometimes sped up when he went to family video and he first laid eyes on her talking to Steve, and maybe there was also a tinge of jealousy that settled in the pit of his stomach when he thought of how close they were. That had to mean something—meant something more than anything else he’d ever felt before.

He knew if Steve and Robin were going to get together, it more than likely would have already happened. But the thought still nagged on him a bit. He wouldn’t like it, and he couldn’t really put his finger on why. Having a crush on Robin was the only feasible explanation, really.

It was either that, or perhaps it was because Eddie was convinced that Steve hated him for some unknown reason.

Eddie tried to become friends with Steve during the aftermath of the Upside Down, and for a while it seemed like it was working. It seemed like Steve actually enjoyed Eddie’s company.

They’d hang out first with Rob, or Dustin. And then just by themselves. Steve even came to smoke up at the trailer once or twice, ended up crashing on Eddie’s couch. Steve used to smile at him, and nudge him in the shoulders like they were sharing some inside joke, or sling his arm around Eddie casually like they’d known each other for ages.

It always made Eddie feel like he was buzzing, like there was some sort of weight in his chest that spasmed and choked him. His therapist had said that it was probably some sort of satiation for his inner child, finally being accepted by someone who was deemed popular. Eddie hadn’t ever thought he cared about shit like that, but the subconscious was a mysterious place, he was coming to learn. Definitely explained the attachment he felt for Steve those first few months out of the hospital; the absolute giddiness he felt when they got to hang out.

But that was at the beginning. The start of July was when Eddie noticed Steve acting different towards him. Avoiding touch, and then eye contact, and then Eddie’s calls, and finally, just Eddie altogether.

The pit Eddie had felt in his stomach from losing Steve’s affection had been awful. He really thought they were becoming close, really thought it was the start of something. A really great friendship.

But Steve peaced out as quickly as he bonded with Eddie, apparently deciding now that they were back in the real world, they couldn’t really mingle anymore.

The bond they formed in the Upside Down was acceptable when they were actively monster hunting, but Eddie supposed now that things had somewhat calmed, reality started to crash into focus. Steve was still a jock; Eddie was still a freak. Therefore, no more sitting across from each other at Benny’s Diner.

That was Eddie’s theory, at least. When he’d ask Robin about it, she’d just shrugged her shoulders and said, “He hasn’t spoken badly about you. Like, at all. Seems like he likes you to me.”

Then, as if to prove his point, Steve would go all red when Eddie would stop by his work and go hide in the back room until the kids picked whatever Sci-Fi movie and piled back in Eddie’s van.

Whatever. It didn’t matter.

Eddie survived sans Steve before the Upside Down, he’d survive without him now.

He picked up the phone and dialed Robin’s number.

“Hello?”

“Rob,” Eddie greeted, a smile already forming on his face from hearing her raspy voice. “What are you up to?”

He could hear a snort from the other end of the line. He knew she was rolling her eyes. “On a Friday afternoon at five PM? Absolutely nothing, of course.”

“Is that sarcasm?”

“Did it sound like sarcasm?”

“I’ll be honest with you,” he said, tucking the phone against his shoulder as he poured himself a mug of old drip coffee from this morning, “it very much did.”

“You’re getting better at social cues!” she mockingly praised.

“Watch it, Bucky. Don’t get too comfortable hiding behind that phone.”

“You’ll forget before the next time we see each other. I’m not too worried.”

Eddie sighed for what felt like the hundredth time since his uncle left the trailer. “Does that mean you can’t hang?”

The line crackled as Robin moved through her living room. Eddie could imagine her flopping on the couch, getting comfortable, her green phone glued to her ear with a big bowl of popcorn settled in her lap. “Noooott necessarily,” she drawled out. “Although, I know you’re not exactly fond of parties.”

Eddie furrowed his brow as he slid his mug onto the new microwave’s glass plate. He’d gotten it for Wayne’s birthday with some of the hush money the government had… well, hushed him with. Eddie had promised to keep his lips sealed when they flashed him the size of the cheque. Not like he had many people to tell, anyway.

“You’re going to a party?”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding surprised. “Steve’s party? For his twentieth?”

Eddie’s stomach dropped. “Steve’s having a party for his birthday?”

As far as he’d known, Steve said he was doing a quiet thing with his parents and his aunt that he didn’t even want to attend, and that was that. He’d just shrugged when Eddie pressed about celebrating with his friends, muttering something about it feeling weird to celebrate after everything that went down earlier in the year.

Which had been fair enough.

But now it was abundantly clear that Steve had been lying to Eddie. To keep him away.

“Uh, of course he is, Doofus. He told me you said you couldn’t come?”

Eddie, for some wild reason, felt his eyes pricking with tears. Out of anger or betrayal or confusion, he wasn’t really sure. It was dumb; he was tough, and he didn’t cry when jocks hated him ever before. So he swallowed them back down.

“Guess my plans changed,” he said, venom seeping into his tone. Fuck Steve and his master plan to keep Eddie from attending his dumb house party. “I’m coming.”

It seemed that Robin was totally oblivious to his anger as she squealed excitedly from the other end of the line. “Yay! Will you come pick me up then? It would be so much cooler to show up with a friend than have my mom drop me off in front of all the former popular kids of Hawkins High.”

“Why do you care about that shit?” Eddie asked, even though he knew it was hypocritical of him.

“Look, I know you’re totally unaffected by the social hierarchy, Eddie, but I’m unashamed to admit that it’ll feel kind of amazing to debut myself as Steve’s best friend, you know? And I’d rather do it in your shitty van than have my mother yelling that she loves me from the open window of her Honda Civic.”

“Don’t call ol’ Heffer shitty,” Eddie sulked. “It’s not good to bite the hand that feeds you. Or something like that.”

Eddie ignored that it didn’t feel great when Robin said she was Steve’s best friend. That heavy shadow of jealousy weighed down on him. He was unclear whether it was because he was jealous of Steve or Robin.

“Whatever,” Robin said, her voice laced with yet another eyeroll. “Pick me up at seven-thirty?”

Eddie nodded, his face still pulled into a scowl. When he realised Robin couldn’t see him, he shook his muddled brain and mumbled, “Uh—yeah. Seven-thirty. See you then.”

“Cool. See you soon, Doofus,” Robin sang. And then the line went dead.

#steddie fic #steddie #eddie munson #eddie x steve #steve harrington #steddie fanfiction #stranger things #steddie fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #sneaky link ao3 #morningberriesao3 #morningberries #steve and eddie #eddie munson x steve harrington

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aliceintheworld · 16 days

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PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: Suicide (this is a serious topic, please be careful), depression, alcoholism, toxic relationship, intolerance, shy reader (this will pass someday), extremely cute Jungkook 😊 and Gureum (JK's former dog) 😫🙏

A/N: Hi again! I came back earlier than expected, but since I already have a good part of the story written, it wasn't too much work (this won't happen all the time). The themes of this chapter are difficult, so please be careful while reading. It's a short chapter because it’s still an introduction to the story. Things will start happening quickly from now on. Just know that in advance 👀

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Chapter 2

I read the words from my favorite book, The Notebook, and even though every time I open its pages, I’m transported to another dimension, this time it doesn’t happen. I shift uncomfortably in my bed, feeling anxious. My mind is filled with thoughts yet simultaneously empty.

After dinner tonight, I couldn’t accomplish much. I took a shower and tried to watch a documentary I was excited to start, but it failed to capture my attention and did nothing to ease my worries about my neighbor, Misuk. Like her, my father also suffered from depression. I was just a child of 11 when I remember the first time he attempted to take his own life. I was young, but the weight of caring for him, even in terms of his mental health, felt heavy. My father would lie in bed all day, and not knowing what to do, I tried to bring him some comfort: getting good grades, making him proud, being affectionate and smart, asking for nothing from him except for what was essential for my survival.

My mother was incredibly strong; she worked at a marketing company almost all day, and when she came home, she would cook and help me with my math homework. I would sometimes catch her crying while cooking or cleaning up the daily mess, but she always said she was fine and put on a smile. I also remember that my father would occasionally have bursts of happiness. For at least a day, the man he used to be would return—energetic, funny, playful. It was only after some time that I, in my innocence, realized that this was worse. It gave us hope that the hard times would pass, that it was just a difficult moment, and that we didn’t need to worry because the turbulence would eventually subside.

But it didn’t pass. It got worse. With depression, came dependency. My father refused to take his prescribed medication and drank heavily every day. He would start in the morning and continue until nightfall. I felt fortunate if he collapsed on the couch and lost consciousness. Sometimes he would become aggressive, and I would retreat to my room, practically staying there all day. That’s how I began to find solace in reading. Books transported me to another world, more colorful and beautiful. My father, inebriated, didn’t exist in any other universe but my own, and that was comforting.

My parents started to argue; my mother was exhausted from holding everything together for months. One night, she pleaded with him to return to who he used to be, or else she would kick him out. He became so furious that he destroyed my grandmother's old wardrobe, and the only reason he didn’t hurt my mother was that he was too drunk to even reach her. I remember her grabbing my arms and dragging me upstairs, as we heard the car start and speed away from the garage. We only learned hours later that my father had died because he had my mother’s emergency contact saved on his phone. He had suffered a severe accident, crashing his car into a tall concrete wall.

A week after the funeral, my mother went to church for the first time. It became her balm, her ark in the midst of that flood, and I accompanied her without questioning or hesitating. I was so young and didn’t understand much; it felt like a relief. I wasn’t sad; I was happy. Happy that my father, the one I loved so much, was finally gone. The weight of worry, of caring for him, no longer existed. Confessing this to myself, much later, was difficult, but it was the truth. I was happy he had died because, for the first time in a long while, I didn’t have to sacrifice my childhood to look after him. I only had to take care of myself, and no one else.

I think of Misuk once more and find her depression reminiscent of my father's. Aside from that, she is completely different from him. I visited her house last month, and I would never have known what had happened if it weren’t for Jungkook. A tear rolls down my face uncontrollably. My throat tightens as I taste bitterness in my mouth. I feel relief that she hasn’t been able to follow through with her plan, relief because now I understand what she’s going through, and I can finally help her. I was a child when my father died and didn’t comprehend much, but now I can do things differently. I can help her, support her, and be there for her during tough times.

I rise from my bed with newfound energy as an idea flashes in my mind. I sneak into the kitchen in the early hours, trying not to make much noise and wake my mother. I walk through the dark hallway of my house to the kitchen, searching the cupboard for an old recipe book my grandmother left for my mother and me.

My mother never liked cooking, but I do. I’ve always enjoyed making desserts, and knowing I can brighten my neighbor’s day, I decide to prepare a treat. Patbingsu, a frozen dessert with sweet red bean, takes a few hours to make, but it’s easy to follow. I begin gathering the ingredients and organizing everything, only realizing how much time has passed when a deep sleepiness overtakes me and the sun begins to rise through the window.

I glance at my phone’s clock, my eyes widening. It’s now 6 a.m. I look at the dessert, adorned with fruits in a pot I set aside, and panic when I realize that the ice, if not consumed promptly, would become terrible. I smack my forehead in disbelief at my own foolishness. Biting my lower lip, I’m at a loss for what to do. It’s very early, and my neighbors might still be asleep. On the other hand, if I don’t deliver the dessert to them, I’ll likely lose both my recipe and the hours of sleep I sacrificed to make it.

I curse myself, weighing the pros and cons of each option. I decide to peek out the window into the neighboring house, searching for any lights on or signs of movement that might indicate my neighbors are awake. Nothing happens. I huff in disappointment. I decide not to deliver my dessert to Misuk; the mistake was mine for being impulsive and not thinking things through before acting. I step away from the window, feeling disheartened and sad, when suddenly the front door of the neighboring house swings open. Jungkook appears out of nowhere, barefoot and wearing a sweatshirt that nearly covers his hands.

I smile as I watch his sleep-laden face while he stretches and rubs his eyes, still groggy from sleep. He seems to be waking up a bit, opening the door to the house again. That’s when my trance breaks. This is the perfect moment to deliver the pot of sweets to his mother. I dash forward like a madwoman, not bothering to take off my apron or put on my slippers, grabbing everything in a hurry. I nearly trip over the flowers in front of my door, but I don’t stop.

“Jungkook! Jungkook!” I shout desperately. A few seconds later, I realize it’s still morning, and I might wake everyone up, so I run even faster to his door. I use all my body and agility to get there before the door closes, thinking he didn’t hear me and that, like an idiot, I wouldn’t make it in time. But the door opens again, and he only sticks his head out, one eye closed as if the sunlight is too much for him at this hour.

A happy, proud smile spreads across my face. I refrain from jumping with joy, knowing that would be excessive and he might think I’m crazy.

“Y/N?” he asks, his voice hoarse as if he’s seeing a mirage. “Good morning, how are you?”

“Good morning,” I reply with a smile. Then I realize I must be interrupting him with all this shouting, and finally, the embarrassment washes over me. “I’m sorry, it’s morning.”

“Yes, it is,” he says, looking me up and down; my apron is crooked, and my hair is a mess. I don’t blame him; he looks awake but not entirely ready. It’s almost as if he just crawled out of bed to greet the morning sun. I must be ruining his peace.

“I’m really sorry again, it’s just that…” I trail off, glancing at the pot in my hands. “I made a little something to sweeten your mother’s day. I hope she likes it.”

“You cooked?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “What time?”

“Almost now,” I reply softly, my voice short and hesitant. “I can deliver it to her later, if you want.”

“It’s 6:30 now,” he says, as if still trying to wrap his head around things. He doesn’t seem like a morning person, judging by his demeanor. “Come in, please.”

“No!” I respond quickly, my voice rising. My eyes widen in embarrassment. “You don’t have to; I just came to drop this off for her.”

“Just come in. I just need to wash my face and brush my teeth.” He smiles for the first time, a dimple forming on his cheek, and his doe dark eyes squint. “Come on, I insist.”

“Alright,” I whisper, feeling shy. I take small steps toward the door. I realize I have to pass by him to enter the house, and before I know it, I’m inside. The house is silent, and a small white puppy scurries around my feet, recognizing my presence. I smile, bending down to his level.

“This is Gureum,” Jungkook says from behind me. I nod.

“Your mom told me she adopted him.” I pet his ear, finding it amusing how his fluffy tail wags back and forth. “He wasn’t here last night.”

“Actually, he was, but in my room. My dad is allergic, so until we can get the medication, we keep him mostly to my room.” He explains. I turn to him, nodding in agreement. “I’ll wash my face and be right back.”

“You don’t have to bother; I just want to deliver this.” I repeat, feeling awkward.

“It’s no bother. You can sit on the couch; I’ll be right back.” Before I can respond, he hurries up the stairs, as if afraid I might vanish if he takes too long.

I sit on the couch, hearing the sound of tiny paws behind me. Gureum is so adorable and affectionate, and being small, he has to lift both front paws to reach my hands for pets. I laugh when he licks my hand, tilting his head as if expecting more affection. Minutes pass until Jungkook appears again, this time wearing a tight black t-shirt and a headband that keeps his dark hair pushed back. I forget about Gureum, mesmerized. He is incredibly handsome—almost like a literary character come to life right in front of me. My cheeks flush, and my heart races. For some reason, I like him very much. Since the first time I saw him, I have this feeling.

“Now we can talk,” he smiles, pulling up his gray sweatpants. “I really needed to brush my teeth… you know.”

“Yeah,” I agree, unsure of what to say. He sits on the couch, just a few inches away from me, and that alone makes me nervous. “I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to give this to your mom, but at the same time, I didn’t want to wake her. When I saw you, I just…”

“Wanted to hand it over,” he finishes, smiling. I nod in agreement. “It’s alright. It’s really kind of you to do this. My mom has been waking up later because of her medication, so it was a good idea to talk to me.”

“Thank you,” I say sincerely. He laughs suddenly at my answer, throwing his head back. His white teeth show, and curiously, his two front ones are slightly larger than the others, giving him a cute smile. It's very funny. I want to laugh with him, even though I’m still confused about why he’s laughing.

“Why are you thanking me? You made the sweets!” He justifies his laughter, still chuckling. I grin in embarrassment, hiding my face with my hands.

“I don’t know. I guess I feel guilty for coming to talk to you at this hour.” I shrug.

“Is that the kind of person you are?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, not understanding.

“A nice person,” Jungkook clarifies, smiling at me. His eyes meet mine for a few seconds, and the nervousness I felt earlier comes back stronger. I try to smile, fiddling with my nails, feeling awkward. “Thank you for bringing this dessert. What is it?”

“Patbingsu,” I say, feeling a bit more at ease. Talking about food calms me down. “It’s made with sweet beans and fruits; it’s very healthy.”

“Can I try some? I love patbingsu,” he asks, tilting his head to the side. I nod, opening the glass pot’s lid. He reaches for a fruit, and I can’t help but notice the tattoos adorning his pale arm. I swallow hard, feeling a shiver run down my spine.

His right arm is covered in various designs that stretch down to his fingertips. A flower, a tiger and a phrase that reads “Winners Never Quit” are the only things I can distinguish quickly. I try to focus on something else, but it’s nearly impossible. He is incredibly handsome, much taller than me, exuding confidence and assurance. His scent is the same as yesterday, so good that I wish I could close my eyes to concentrate and feel more; his breath is even fresher from the toothpaste he just used. His hair pushed back draws even more attention to his smooth neck, speckled with beauty marks that, if it weren’t for genetics, I’d say were strategically placed to drive me wild. One specific mole, just below his lower lip, takes my breath away. He moans as he chews on a blueberry, and my already shallow breath nearly escapes me completely. He opens his eyes, frowning as if the fruit were the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.

“It’s delicious. Really sweet,” he says, licking his lips. “You should try some.” He picks up a strawberry, dipping it in the sweet milk and sugar ice and brings it close to my mouth. I can’t refuse, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I bite into the red fruit, trying not to graze the tips of his fingers, but Jungkook seems unbothered by it and offers the whole thing without hesitation. I can almost taste his skin along with the food, the way he hands it to me without much care. I try not to choke, overwhelmed by what he’s doing to me, unable to say a word.

I swallow everything without uttering a peep. He leans back on the couch, spreading his legs, pausing for a moment to observe me. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, incapable to meet his gaze. He draws me in like some sort of supernatural force, and I can’t fathom how I’ll manage to be near him every time I see him.

“You’re so kind,” he suddenly whispers to himself. I turn to look into his eyes, trying to understand him. “Thank you so much for caring for my mom in this way. I’m at a loss for words.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do,” he insists without hesitation. “My mom needs more people like you around her. I’m glad to have you here with her.”

“Jungkook... I... Your mom is very important to me. You really don’t have to thank me. I couldn’t sleep thinking about her, and I decided to bring this because I know she’s feeling deep pain right now.” I say, feeling brave and determined. I need to tell him this. “I appreciate you confiding in me about what you told me last night. I promise I’ll do everything I can to take care of her and be there for her. Her secret is completely safe with me.”

“I know that,” he assures, smiling slightly. He bends down to give Gureum a gentle pat, who is now lying near his feet. He looks back at me, nodding. “I’ll make it up to you somehow. You can count on that.”

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jakesgalxy · 10 months

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09.It actually went well ?

Yn walked back and fourth anxiously in her makeup room. "Fuck my life I think am gonna die what if niki thinks am a weirdo ? Omg this is so embarrassing " She said to herself. After few mins her manager entered the room "Yn we need to go on set now niki is already there " he said. "Manager nim is it too late to go home now ?" Yn said with hope in eyes. Her manager just sighed. "Yn its gonna be okay. Just think this as your another shoot. I know you have anxiety but you're gonna be just fine trust me " He said with a small smile. Yn calmed down a little and said " But niki-" "NOTHING will happen. Be professional and think niki as just another person you're working with and you'll be fine". Yn wasn't convinced but still smiled a little " Thankyou ". " yeah yeah let's go now".

They reached the set when niki and his manager were standing. The moment yn saw niki she froze for a min. The manager say it and whispered "get it together yn". Yn came back to her senses and nodded. They both went forward and niki finally saw her. "Oh fuck she has gotten even prettier over these months". His manager nudged him and cleared his throat. Both the managers hugged each other leaving both the idols awkwardly. " Hello niki I am yn's manager and this is yn she will be mentoring with you in this show" said manager lee. Niki bowed and yn bowed back. " Hi, its nice to meet you" niki said with an awkward smile. "Same here" yn said trying to keep her cool. The managers shoot each knowing eyes and smiled nodding their head. Niki's manager cleared his throat and said "Its starting please pay attention they will call you on stage any second". The host of the show introduced the main judges and then the participants group by group. Then after finishing the last group he said " Its the time all of you had been waiting for. To mentor these participants we have two special guests who are the it dancers of 4th gen and are winning everyone's heart. Please welcome New jeans' Yn and enhypen's niki". Everyone cheered as both of them made their way to the stage. "Hello everyone this is niki from enhypen" Niki said bowing. "Hi everyone this is yn from new jeans" yn said bowing. The host clapped and said " For today you guys don't have to do anything, there's your seats you can sit there and judge the participants and let them know where they could improve or express how you felt about there performance". Both the idols thanked him and went to their assigned seats. Throughout the show they both focused on the performances sharing their views and giving advices to the participants.

After the show was over both we sitting together in the makeup room talking about certain things as they are no longer awkward with each other. "Wait how long have you been dancing tho ?" Niki said while sipping his americano. " Since I was 3 " yn said casually. "NO WAY ME TOO" Niki said putting his hand to do hi five. "WAIT FOR REAL ?" Yn said returning the hi five even though she obviously knew this information. "She's so cute trying to act like this is the first time she's hearing it" niki thought to himself smiling a little. Niki thought that maybe he should tell her that he knows yn is an engene. "Yn I wanted to tell you some-" "Lets go now" manager lee said cutting him off

and coming into the room. "We're leaving now ?" Yn said being a little sad. "Yes yn unfortunately because the show is over and you have a photoshoot right now" Manager said. "But niki was going to tell me something-" "I'll tell you later" niki said quickly. "Alright then" yn said. "bye bye niki see you next week" yn waved. Niki waved back "byeee yn !" with a smile.

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AERA'S NOTE :- HI ANGELSS !!!! A written chapter finally !! Hope you like it and comments and reblongs are very appreciated <3

Taglist :- @naijmi @eupherbia @kgneptun @kittyeij @imyourjoy0 @mrowwww @im-yn-suckers @ibsysbsfsunsbs @lillians-world-is-f1 @sunshinessky @hoondiors

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bumpkinspice0 · 8 months

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Recovery Time Chapter 8

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Explicit (Minors do not interact!!!!!!)

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: November is here, winter creeps closer, and feelings become more real.

Warnings: Like none? Typical angst, fluff, desperation??

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AO3

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Chapter 8: Storm Brewing

The garden was finally bare, the soil tilled over and weeded of its dead occupants. Precious loved herbs and other plants dug up and brought inside to last the winter. Seeds sorted and stored for next year. Harvest time was over and the dirt can lay in rest for another winter. October had come and passed, the early days of November bringing a new chill to the air.

Joel helps you prep the garden soil for next year and he almost wishes he hadn’t offered. You had buckets of compost stored and ready to enrich the soil, nasty smelling stuff. Vegetable scraps, egg shells, bones— garbage really. He was helping you spread garbage around your dead garden. He’s done stranger things, he supposes.

“Please tell me this is the last one,” He sighs, dumping out the final nasty, juicy contents from the last 5-gallon barrel you rolled out.

“It’s the last one,” you scoff, raking the dumped contents evenly over the soil’s surface. “You can start putting the leaf piles on top then we’re done.”

“Thank god,” he retreats to the edge of the garden where you’d had a massive leaf pile waiting. He grabs an armful and spreads them on top of the compost, “Why are we doing this again?”

“Keeps the soil healthy.” You dust your hands off and grab a fistful of leaves for yourself, “You gotta put back what you take out. The parts you don’t use decompose and make the soil healthier. Circle of life and all that.”

“And the leaves?”

“Extra barrier and extra compost.” You step closer to him and he does his best to ignore how that makes his heart speed up ever so slightly. “Use what’s around, ya know?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” He grabs another armful of leaves, “But it was good this year? The garden?”

“Better than other years. Only got good at it the last two years or so.”

Joel wasn’t much of a farmer. Hell, he killed nearly all of his houseplants. The idea of constantly managing something so delicate was intimidating. Game hunting was easy in comparison. Straight forward— almost literally. Point and shoot. Set a trap and leave it. Hunting didn’t take skill, it just took luck. But growing food… That was a whole different story.

Your storages were plentiful from what he saw. You didn’t really seem to keep track of resources used because of it. Much more lax than Bill. If he had to guess you probably easily had enough for 6-8 months at the moment— But he can’t help but wonder how much you’d used on him. How much did he take from you? The question that’s been constantly on his mind lately.

He’d brought back some meager kills. That turkey and a good handful of rabbits. Was it enough?

“Thinking you got enough to make it through the winter this year?” He asks before he can stop himself.

You pause, he’s not sure if it’s from his sudden forwardness or because you’re actually thinking about it, sorting through everything in your head. He sees your expression drop a little bit— his unspoken words evidently being heard loud and clear.

Will you be fine without me?

He hadn’t brought it up in weeks, him heading back to the QZ. You hadn’t either. Christ he’d been healed for just as long and he still wandered around here like a lost puppy. What was he waiting for? You to chase him out with a broom in hand? Or maybe for you to tell him please don’t go.

He had to. He had to leave and him lingering around you like a ghost was making it all the more difficult.

“It was a good harvest this year,” You finally answer, kicking out more leaves in your path. “Winter can be unpredictable, though. For extra assurance, we should probably think about getting bigger kills if we—”

You pause again, your back to him. He can’t see your face but he can guess what’s painted across it. Panic. Blushing embarrassment. You said it twice, the forbidden word.

We.

You’d both been dancing around referring to each other as a pair since he got here, now you were the first to let it slip. He knew what we meant. We meant I’m thinking of you. We meant I’m planning a future where you’re there. We meant don’t leave.

He doesn’t say anything, the pleasant afternoon soured by him asking silent questions. Joel didn’t like being so timid. It’s not who he was. He was a blunt, straightforward man— often to a fault. He wishes he could still be that emotionless with you. It’d make everything so much easier. Instead, he lives in fear of hurting you. Of bringing the curtain down on this small little paradise you’d given him. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve you. It’s time he gets back to what he was actually good at.

All things must come to an end, even the good things. He had to come back to reality. Joel just had to pull the trigger… but when?

He tosses a final fistful of leaves onto the barren garden and stomps off to the edge of the property.

“I’m gonna set up a few more traps.”

__________

A bloated awkwardness had settled between you both since this afternoon, and you have your stupid mouth to thank for it. The damn thing always got you into so much trouble.

You said we. You desperately wanted to try and recover and blurt that you were referring to you, Gus, and Lily, obviously, but that would have made the whole situation ten times worse. You just blurting whatever came to mind had gotten you into this mess.

How had Joel become such an integral part of your life in such a short time? He’d crawled into your heart and made a home there without even trying. From day one you knew he wouldn’t stay, and yet that never seemed to matter.

You’d told him six weeks for his estimated recovery time. It only took a glance at the calendar to see that specific date had come and gone. He’d been recovered. Walking strong with newly healed over scars. He was a picture of health… and he was still here. That meant something.

He hadn’t mentioned the QZ once. Not even people inside it. He’d been vague, at best, about what he’d done there. The only family you knew about was his brother, who was likely now hundreds of miles away. What did he have to go back to, you wonder. You’d never asked, but then again he probably wouldn’t tell you if you did.

Maybe you’re waiting for him to ask. Ask if he can stay here… but you probably made your feelings about that rather clear… right? Maybe you have to ask, then. Ask him to stay. Tell him how you feel.

The fear of rejection is a powerful one. People underestimate it all the time.

So, instead of facing the fear, you dance around in this awkward limbo you’d made for yourself, because of your big dumb mouth.

You’re curled up on the couch while he passively plays guitar in the corner of the living room, Gus and Lily curled up at his feet like he always belonged there.

The playing stops and you dare to glance in his direction. His gaze is on the curled-up fur children at his feet, sadness pulling at his features. You can only hope what he’s thinking about.

“Hey,” he looks at you, “So… I was thinking bout somethin’.”

“That’s dangerous.” You hope, just for a moment. Hope that he’ll ask to stay the winter. Stay longer. Stay forever. Just… stay.

“Yeah,” he gives the weakest smile you’d ever seen in your life. Oh no. “I was… thinkin’ about when I should leave.”

You’d never had your hope dashed so quickly.

“Yeah?” You say, trying your best to hide the fact that your heart is shattering.

“I should… do it soon. Before the snow falls.”

You look away from him, clutching your book to your chest, “That’s… a good idea.”

He lets the silence brew in the room. God, if you thought the air between you two was uncomfortable before…

You hold back a tear, putting on a brave face. “When were you thinking?”

He’s set the guitar aside, leaning heavily over his knees. He wrings his hands together nervously.

“Tomorrow.”

The single word is like an arrow to the heart. Tomorrow? That soon? You can’t believe you’d scared him off so easily. If there was a time to tell him to stay, it was now. Beg him not to go. Tell him how you feel. Show him he’d always have a home here.

Say something. Anything.

“That’s… soon.”

Idiot.

“It is.” He nods dismissively. You don’t know why, but you really want to punch him right now. He sighs, coming over to take a seat next to you. Good. Closer to punch. “I’ve taken enough from you, darlin’. It’s time I be on my way.”

“Good, you’ve been a nuisance anyway.” You think hiding behind some sarcasm will distract from the stinging behind your eyes. It doesn’t. Still, you manage to will the tears to stay inside, “It was a pleasure you have you, Joel.”

He rests a hand on your thigh and you swear it burns. “I… don’t know how to repay you.”

Don’t leave. You want to say it so badly. That’s how he could repay you if that’s what he felt he needed to do. Is it selfish of you to want him all to yourself? Like a treasure you found. Yes, of course it is. He had a right to leave. He had a right to his own damned free will.

“Just live, that’s all you have to do,” You place your hand on top of his, “And come back to visit?”

“Of course.”

Those sorrowful deep brown eyes say all his mouth never could. Does he even really want to leave? God, you hate this. What do you do now? Do you eagerly start packing his supplies? Leave him alone? Cry? Beg? Say it. Just say it!

“Joel…” You squeeze his hand just a little tighter. His expression lightens, just a little. “I…” I don’t want you to leave. “I’ll miss you.”

Coward.

He breathes out a small smile, squeezing your hand back. Can he feel it? Your heart breaking.

His other hand comes up to rest on your cheek. “I’ll miss you too, darlin’.”

“Joel…”

This was too much. He was too much. You can’t just sit idly by while this happens. You can’t just watch him leave without fighting just a little. Without speaking your peace. If you don’t, you know you’ll regret it forever. You have to do something. Do anything.

You come crashing into him, your lips finding his immediately. He moans into you, his other hand coming up behind your head to pull you in closer. He wanted this too. Good. You crawl on top of him… or he guides you down to the couch, you’re not really sure. It doesn’t matter. You had him, here, right now. When your words fail you, this is how you can tell him. Tell him to stay.

His hands trail down from your face and squeeze your waist, pulling you closer to him. You rake your hands through his hair in a frenzy, just needing more. All of him. Oh god, he felt so good already. His tongue comes out to explore your mouth, you open with a desperate sigh. He was eager. He was willing.

He was yours. Right now he was yours.

Your hands drop to his belt. You feel him flinch under your touch.

“Darlin’... I…” he breathes between your lips. Whatever he was going to say dies on his tongue. His hips raise up in encouragement.

“Joel,” you moan as you undo the buckle, “Joel, I—”

A mighty gust of wind shakes the cabin, testing its very foundation. You both jolt upright, the moment completely ruined by shock. The windows rattle with newfound intensity. The bones of your little home creak in protest.

A storm was coming.

“Shit…shit,” you grumble, climbing off Joel, much to your disdain. You walk over to your little weather station by the front door, three little mounted dials that Art always swore by. A thermometer, a barometer, and a hydrometer. The temperature had dropped significantly since this afternoon, dwindling down past freezing. The air pressure was dropping rapidly, you swear you see the needle moving before your very eyes. Yep, the telltale signs of a storm. When you glance out the window your heart drops.

The snow had only just started to fall, small white specks starting to blanket the ground, and it was picking up speed. The sky was barely visible, the undoubtedly massive clouds whited out by an oncoming freeze. It was going to be a blizzard—a big one.

“What is it?” Joel comes up behind you.

You groan, wishing so badly you could ignore it and take him back to the couch and continue where you left off— but you know you can’t. You’d said earlier that winter was unpredictable, and that was true. Early snow meant more work that had to be done now before it got worse. Preparations done to assure your safety. More wood inside, more water in the tank, relocating the chickens, bringing up more food from the cellar— You could both do it before the storm got worse. If you hurried it’d be done in an hour. Then you could get back to… everything.

You were likely going to be snowed in for a few days. Maybe it’s a sign, you think. A final gift from the almighty to get Joel Miller to stay just a little longer. You’ll take what you can get.

“Winter came early.”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #Joel Miller #tlou #the last of us #recovery time

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themastaralex · 6 months

Text

Your heart and soul is mine (and mine are yours) - Chap 2

Chap summary: The first thing to know about being a Jujutsu Sorcerer is how to control your CE, from there it's just basic manipulation. And also meeting your nephew/not really nephew Megumi Fushiguro.

notes: I'm probably not gonna upload for a solid month after this chapter, or maybe after the 3rd chapter's done idk. maki and the gang pull up in the next chapter, and GODDAMN, she is RUDE. but its funny

she's gonna be like that probably until before yuta pulls up once we get to the jjk0 storyline- another thing to note is that since jjh is a year round school, they likely start school in may because they have a summer uniform, winter uniform, blah blah, you get it

After that first very impressionable meeting with your long-lost half-brother, he wasted no time in gaining guardianship over you.

He gained it rather quickly actually.

Even you were surprised as to how fast he gained it, but he has both connections, proof of his relation to you, and money to make it faster.

So after a month or two and him coming back every week, he could finally say he became your legal guardian, and he talked to both your aunt and you about moving to Japan with him.

Sure, you have no idea as to how to speak Japanese, but you'll go to school, learn there as he helps you as well.

Over the course of the next few weeks, you packed up most of your things and moved to Japan with him.

Tokyo, Japan.

You don't want to be one of those people who acts all weird with it, but for the first few months of living there, you definitely did. Not to mention that Satoru never once mentioned Megumi and Tsumiki while he was talking all about Japan.

Your first meeting with Megumi wasn't too bad. The boy stayed pretty quiet the whole time.

“So.. Do you like comics?”

You tentatively ask, as he raises his head slightly, looking as if he's thinking about this.

“..yeah. The new 52 Batman comics are my favorites.” You grin, seeing the corner of Megumi’s lips turn up. It seems he's glad enough to have someone new in the house who likes comics.

“Awesome. I personally like the Civil War book that came out a long ass while ago. Cap dies, but I think that's fine. We need more permanent deaths in comics anyways.”

He nods his head in agreement, as you continue to talk about the 2006 Civil War comic.

‘She seems pretty cool.’

He's not going to say that out loud though. Megumi already kind of is starting to like you, and that's saying something. Maybe it's because you're very close to his age, or because you're not hounding him with questions on basically one of your first meetings.

“Anything else you like? ‘Cause I have a lot more I could talk about.”

You smile, and now Megumi can definitely tell you're related to Satoru. Both your tendencies to talk seem similar, even when you're clearly asking him if he'd like to talk more.

And he's glad for that. He's glad you're a little like Satoru, but not enough like him that you're unbearable to talk to or be next to.

Even then, Megumi contemplates your question for another few moments, thinking of something else he actually enjoys. His voice comes out a little quieter than normal, as he scratches his chin for a moment.

“Well, I also like Iron Man. The movies are pretty cool. The Avengers movie was awesome too.”

Common interests make this bonding with Megumi easier than he would make it normally. He's quiet, sometimes unusually so, but that's fine by you. It's nice to have someone to share opinions with- Even if they're very opinionated like Megumi’s.

You're sure you can get along with Megumi quite easily.

——

A few days later, after Satoru comes back from his business trip, he sits you down to talk to you, one on one. In a serious tone, he speaks, sitting down at a table across from you.

“We need to talk.”

His hands are interlocked in front of him, as his face forms into a serious look. He's really trying not to smile at all.

It doesn't make you nervous per say, but it does make you narrow your eyes at him as you start to suspect something. Satoru isn't very good at being serious in these types of situations, so this is killing him.

“So, I'm sure you have no idea what I do when I leave, right?” He's referring to his “business trips”, so you nod your head. He seems to understand, and keeps talking. “I would guess so. Anyways, you don't know what Jujutsu is, do you?”

At this point, you just stare at him with a ‘Are you fucking stupid?’ look. Of course you have no idea what that is.

“What the fuck is “Jujutsu"? Fightin’ style?”

You narrow your eyes at him, eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion. You've only ever heard of Brazilian Jiu-jitsu, and those pretty much sound the same. That's probably what he's referring to, right?

“No, no, it's something else. It's kind of like super powers.” He watches you for a moment, watching you burst out into laughter shortly after his words.

Satoru's serious gaze doesn't falter, even when he already probably would've burst into laughter himself as well, but he wants to introduce you to this, because he can definitely sense a huge amount of cursed energy from your body. Especially a few months ago, when you were still reeling back from your mother's death.

“I want you to take this seriously.”

His words coupled with his tone makes you stop laughing, and instead pay heavy attention to his next words.

He’s never done anything to lose your trust, and he's certainly never lied to you (so far). So when he asks you to take him seriously, no matter the topic.

So after that, he starts yapping all about jujutsu, curses, the Jujutsu society, and the fact that because you have blood of the Gojo Clan in your veins, you have the extreme potential to be one of the strongest Sorcerers of this generation.

In all seriousness, you don't believe him for a good while. Until you try touching him to slap him (as a joke) and you can't touch him.

You can't touch him because of his Infinity. He explains it to you, both Infinity and his cursed technique: Limitless. Not just Limitless, but his Six Eyes technique.

He first explained that the Six Eyes and the Limitless come together in one sorcerer every 400 years. He’s an extremely rare case of a sorcerer: possessing two techniques in one brain. Then he explains it all a bit more in depth, then moves onto you. He’s not sure if you’re like him- in the sense that your eyes sense cursed energy better than a regular sorcerer would. But then again, he has noticed your narrowed eyes around both him and Megumi quite a lot. Your squinting eyes can only lead him to the assumption that you see cursed energy better, like he does.

He didn’t want that for you, but it’s too late now. At least now, Satoru can teach you how to control and harness your cursed energy- not to mention, give you his old high school glasses to help you with the overload of cursed energy, and just overall your eyes being sensitive to many forms of different things. Like him.

——

And so, as soon as he got some time off and a safe spot to help you start to work on your jujutsu, he got right on it. Honestly, Megumi is slightly surprised that Satoru’s doing all of this, but he knows the man isn’t cold-hearted. Quite the opposite. Satoru took him in, so he knows firsthand how generous he can be, even if he’s a bit childish at times.

Right off the bat, he teaches you how to channel your cursed energy; how to not be wasteful with it, especially considering your overwhelming amount of it- from what he can tell, with his blindfold/glasses on or off.

It’s not tough to learn it, but the hardest part is mastering it by repeating it over and over. All it is is using your negative emotions and channeling them into a layer of cursed energy over your body.

Over and over. Satoru had you practice channeling cursed energy into your fists, hitting him with his Infinity up, even if it did nothing. After all, it didn't do ‘nothing’. It helped you practice CE manipulation, and helped you control your emotions, especially your grief after your mother’s death.

“The body is the soul, and the soul is the body. If you don’t understand that, you don’t understand the basic principle of jujutsu.” He’s a good teacher when it comes to application and technique. After all, he’s been a jujutsu sorcerer ever since he could use his techniques. And you…

He didn’t even know what cursed technique you had until around a year after the initial start of your training. And when he found out what it was, he was absolutely thrilled. The technique itself was Special Grade 1, and with your mastery so far, how well you’ve exceeded on the minor missions Satoru sent you and Megumi on to test your skills, and the knowledge of jujutsu you have- even after only a year- you’re already definitely top tier Grade 1 material.

Not to mention your skills in martial arts; with boxing as your primary, Muay Thai for more power in the weaker areas, and karate for leg strikes.

As for your CT…

Cursed Technique: Time Dilation.

Your CT is one of the most powerful- but volatile- techniques. A user of Time Dilation hasn’t been heard of or seen since the Heian Era. Already, Satoru knows you’re a slight danger- or at least he knows that’s how the jujutsu higher-ups will see it.

With the power of your CT, you have the ability to slow time to almost a halt, and at your current mastery, only for around maybe 2-3 seconds per usage.

You have potential. Great potential. Just like him.

Just like Satoru Gojo.

#maki zenin #maki x reader #maki zenin x reader #zenin maki #jjk x reader #jjk x you #maki x you #god i need her so bad #gojo satoru #jjk #megumi fushiguro

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seresinsbabe · 2 years

Text

Conveniently Yours

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader

Synopsis: In a desperate attempt to pay for your mom's cancer treatment you take a job as a dancer at one of NYC's prestigious strip clubs where you meet Jake Seresin who just happens to need a wife.

Warnings: Allusions to cancer and cancer treatment, mentions of money, weddings mentioned, nothing really in this chapter.

Word count: 2.6k

THIS BLOG AND ITS FICS ARE 18+! MINORS DNI!

I do not consent to having any of my work shared on any other platform. If you see any rendition of my works on another site know that it has been posted without my permission.

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“Are we going to have to share a bed?”

There was a glint in Jake’s eye once the question had registered. With a laugh he shook his head. You let out a sigh of relief and watched as Jake’s face changed from amused to confused and slightly insulted. “Well don’t sound so relieved,” he murmured as he lifted a bite of chicken up to his mouth.

You realized how that must have sounded and your eyes immediately went wide. “Oh, n-no it’s not tha- I w-wouldn’t mind…” Another sigh left you but this was out of embarrassment and you saw Jake’s mouth twitching in an urge to smile. You let out a gasp, a smile tugging at the corner of your own lips. Without thinking you grabbed the napkin that had been spread across your lap and lightly tossed it at him. The little action caused him to let out a full belly laugh, his hand coming up to block the napkin. It was then that you really looked at him, noticing the way his eyes crinkled in the corner as he laughed, the way his chuckles gave way for deeper, longer laughs and the way his cheeks started to turn red.

He really was beautiful. In so many ways.

Silently you wondered how many other small details about him you would notice over time. Honestly you figure that might help you guys to play this whole thing off. That it would be more believable if you took note of all the little intricacies that made up Jake Seresin. Things no one would know or take the time to notice.

Jake handed your napkin back to you, still chuckling as he did so. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.” He stopped himself before he complimented you on how cute you looked all flustered. It was heavy on the forefront of his mind, though.

“I’ll get you back,” you taunted. Perhaps you and Jake would come out the other side of this as good friends.

“Alright, so we’ll leak the news of the engagement later this week, then a couple, two or three months down the road we’ll have the wedding.” Listening to Jake go over the plan felt surreal. It was almost like you were having an out of body experience. Like you were watching yourself from above as you sat in Jake’s office, his business partner and lawyer all situated with you.

It had been two days since you accepted Jake’s offer, but it felt like he’d already had everything planned out in advance. As if he just knew you’d say yes. Then again, maybe he was just used to having all of his bases covered.

Javy was the first one to notice the look on your face. Honestly you hadn’t even realized you were making a face. “Are you alright, Y/N?” He asked softly and you took notice of the ring on his left hand. No wonder he was the first one to notice. You didn’t see a ring on the lawyer’s hand and the only other man in the room was Jake.

“Yeah, I’m fine…” you trailed off softly, pulling your lip between your teeth. “What about my old job? I mean I-I assume it wouldn’t be good if word got out that Jake and I met because I was a stripper.” If that were to ever get out you were sure the media would be all over it and it would make things worse instead of helping Jake.

From beside you Jake let out a soft chuckle, his hand came out to pat yours. “We’ve got that figured out, just make sure anyone close to you doesn’t have loose lips.” You nodded slowly, digesting it all. There were only two things left to discuss and they were the two most nerve wracking items to discuss: the wedding and the money. Admittedly the wedding shouldn’t have worried as much as the money, but it did. You had no idea if this was going to have to be some big to do or if you guys could get away with staging a private elopement. You were hoping for the latter.

“For the wedding, how do we want to go about that?” It was Javy that asked. You turned to Jake, expecting him to take the lead and answer. Because ultimately this was his decision. He was the one that would be fronting the bill for it all. Only instead of him speaking, you found him staring back at you, nodding softly in your direction as an urge for you to speak. And you felt all their eyes on you, 3 pairs focused on you and wanting to hear what you had to say.

You picked at your nails nervously, looking down at them as they fidgeted in your lap. “I think something smaller, more private would make more sense,” you were trying to word it so that it didn’t seem like you were doing this for your own comfort. Even though you had never once put your own needs first. If Jake had spoken up and said he wanted a big wedding, you would have sucked it up and given him a big wedding. Not just because he was the one that could make or break you, but because it would have made him happy. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d done something for yourself. At the end of the day it had always been about what was better for everyone else. Not what was going to make Y/N happy.

“I mean, think about it, we’re going through the trouble of making it seem like thus far we’ve kept our relationship extremely private.” The plan was to make it out as though you’d been hiding in the shadows because you valued your privacy. And that all those times Jake was spotted with other women was to prevent the media from suspecting you existed and trying to snuff you out. And that the engagement was the reason you were finally stepping out of the shadows. “It wouldn’t make sense that we suddenly want to have this giant wedding.”

Suddenly your throat felt tight and your nerves shot up. Their eyes never stayed on you and you watched as Jake’s thumb rubbed over his bottom lip, pulling it one way and then the other. Whether or not they agreed with you, you weren’t sure of. The silence in the room only made your nerves shoot up more.

“I think she’s right,” Jake was the first one to speak, his hand falling down to lay flat against the table with a slight smack. “A big wedding would raise suspicion.” You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and smiled softly at Jake. If he continued to act like this with you, so nice and accommodating then this wouldn’t be as awkward as you had originally thought it to be.

When you had done you recon on him you remembered seeing articles about how much of an asshole he could really be. About how he was upfront with women, he seduced them and then he tossed them. So far, you hadn’t seen that side of Jake. You were hopeful you never would, you didn’t want the image of him you had in your head now to be tarnished.

Javy and the lawyer nodded. “Alright, we can hash out the finer details of that closer to time.” Thank God. The last thing you wanted to do was take more time in this stuffy board room to plan out a fake wedding.

Your body tensed up again, because you knew what the final discussion was going to be. Going into this you knew it was about the money, but actually discussing it felt wrong. You’d been raised not to discuss money, that it was polite. Yet here you were, pretty much selling yourself to save your mother. A position you never once thought you’d find yourself in. Then again, did anyone really ever plan on having to sell themselves for something like this? No. ‘

Even knowing this was a purely financial transaction didn’t make it easier for you to talk about it.

The lawyer opened his folder and pushed a thick stack of papers towards you. The words Prenuptial Agreement headed the page. As far as you had been concerned prenups only existed in television and movies. They were never something you ever thought you would need. Simply because you had never envisioned yourself marrying a man that was rich enough to need a prenup.

Slowly you reached over, sliding the prenup all the way over so you could read through it. There were little sticky note tabs, the ones with the arrows that had SIGN HERE in all red on them, stuck in different places on different pages. Another wave of realization hit you and you felt your stomach do a flip.

Your eyes slowly scanned the pages. Reading it and trying to digest it all. It wasn’t that you were shocked or upset. It was just a lot. Everything laid out, of what you would and wouldn’t get. Of course, you honestly hadn’t thought you were going to get anything other than what Jake had offered already. So when you read the lines that stated you would legally be entitled to any residential real estate obtained by Jacob Seresin during the course of your marriage you felt your eyes grow wide. And then they grew even wider at the final term.

Upon the end of marriage, Y/N Byers will receive monthly alimony payments of 100,000.00 a month for the year following divorce.

You looked over at Jake, your finger sitting on the paper and pointing towards the dollar amount. Jake just shrugged in response as if that was pocket change to him. In reality, it probably was pocket change to someone as rich as he was.

Three weeks had passed since you moved into Jake’s. At first you were hesitant to leave your mother, but Jake had arranged for someone to come when you couldn’t. Besides, with all the free time you had now you went over as much as you could. Which was a little harder with the constant paparazzi you had hounding you the second you stepped outside.

The engagement had been leaked just as planned and ever since then things had changed drastically. You suddenly saw your face everywhere. On magazine covers, on tv, all over social media. Anywhere that people like Jake were discussed you were now spotted. It was hard not letting the things they said about you bring you down. It was as if they didn’t see you as a real human. Like you were just some character in their little fantasy world that they could poke and prod. Like you would never read or hear the mean things said about you.

Going into this you had some idea that they would talk about you. That they would compare you to the women Jake had been spotted with before. Half of the things they said about you, you had thought about yourself. That you were a little mousy, that you just looked plain. Your hair wasn’t shiny and perfectly styled every day. You didn’t have a perfect hourglass shape. Sure you had a decent rack and a half decent amount of ass, but you were no Emily Ratajkowski, or Hadid sister, or anyone like that. Yet, even though you’d said these things to yourself, it hurt that much more seeing them plastered somewhere for the whole world to read.

Living a rich life was something you were still getting accustomed to. True to his word, Jake had hired a stylist for you and the day after you’d moved in your closet was filled with clothes with price tags that made you flinch. Seeing yourself in clothes so nice was a learning curve and the second you stepped back inside the penthouse you were slipping the heels off and running to change into something more you.

What you hadn’t expected to be the hard part was the way that Jake had changed.

For the first week he was as nice as he had been. He was accommodating, helping you navigate things as you were learning. The more comfortable you became, the more distant he became. Then suddenly it was as if he didn’t want anything to do with you behind closed doors.

It wasn’t as if you had expected him to act the same at home as he did in public, but you also hadn’t expected him to completely ignore you. Every so often you would get a passing greeting, but other than that it was radio silence. At first you tried to play it off that he was nervous about his parents and the board buying the story. And admittedly, you were nervous about it too. His parents were off somewhere, you think in Europe or something, and they were due back someday this week. But you stopped believing that was it the first night some pretty heiress walked past you in the hall and headed straight towards Jake’s bedroom.

Jake paid no attention to you because he didn’t want to. And why would he when he had women that looked like they were worth more than gold spreading their legs for him every night?

You weren’t fooled into thinking that he was going to fall for you. That wasn’t even something you wanted. It just, for some odd reason, hurt when he would go from the doting and infatuated fiancé he would play in public to a man that could care less about your existence in private. Jake could at least act like he wanted to be around you.

Normally at this time you would have eaten your dinner and retreated to your room before Jake and his date for the night even came home, but tonight was a little off schedule. Your mom’s chemo treatment had taken longer than usual and when you got home to decompress you immediately started blaring music as you cooked.

Bootylicious was currently helping you zone out everything around you except for the task at hand. So much so that you didn’t hear the door open or the footsteps approaching until you heard an unfamiliar voice behind you.

“So is this the “fiancée”?” You jumped and turned around, eyes wide and a hand over your heart as you focused on who was here with you now. The first face you saw was Jake’s, one eyebrow raised as he took in your current attire: an old Oklahoma University t-shirt, oversized as it had been your fathers, your hair up in a claw clip, some of it falling out around your face, and a pair of boyshorts. Something you were sure he hadn’t seen a girl wear in years.

Instead of focusing on Jake’s expression and trying to read the impossible, you turned to look at who spoke. A curly headed brunette with a pornstache and a boyish grin on his face was drinking you in with honey brown eyes. He was a bit taller than Jake, but not by much and he was just as muscular. The way he was looking at you had your face blushing while you turned down the music.

“Bradley, but you can call me Rooster,” he shoved his hand out in your direction with a wink.

“Y/N.” His hand practically swallowed yours as you shook it. “You sure you want to shack it up with Hangman here? I’m available,” suddenly he was leaning in close, his mouth by your ear. “And you won’t have to fake it with me.” The hidden meaning wasn’t lost on you, but you didn’t have time to respond because Jake was quickly pulling Bradley out of the kitchen. Leaving you standing there blushing while Beyoncé sang about having a big ass.

@love2write2626 @cherrycola27 @chaoticversion @3in1shampooconditionerbodywash @alldaysdreamers @sexytholland @mishala005 @a-serene-place-to-be @emma8895eb @aemondssiut @averyhotchner @blairfox04 @realdirectionx @rintheemolion @xoxabs88xox @clancycucumber230 @inky-sun @ilovewhalesharks444 @gigisimsonmars @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @bl6o6dy @potato-girl99981 @emorychase @hangmandruigandmav @boltgirl426 @misshoneypaper @starkleila @mishala005 @a-serene-place-to-be

#jake seresin fic #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x y/n #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #jake seresin x you #top gun au #top gun maverick

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Dinner Date Chapter 35

Masterlist

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>> (in progress)

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. A prickly, generally asocial girlfriend, but they make it work. They have more in common than some people might think.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 35: The Mission Part 2

Chapter Summary: In the wake of the Winter Soldier's attack and reveal, an important conversation is had, and Steve and his partner decide what they want going forward.

Chapter Word Count: 7214

A/N: Two chapters in one month! It barely counts, I think, because these are basically two halves of a whole, but I’m probably going to be mad at myself next month when I’m struggling to get out the next part. For now though: no regerts <3 Enjoy.

I managed to drag myself through work. Not especially well, if I was going to judge by the way everyone else gave me a wide berth that grew even wider as the day went on. But I did my job and I didn’t bite anyone’s head off, so I didn’t really care. Walking towards the subway after work, I was flipping through my messages; I had texted Steve a few times through the day, just checking in, but there was still nothing from him, so I sent another one.

Me: Text me when you’re out of medical

I didn’t want him to go home and be alone, and I doubted he would go be with anyone else right now. It wasn’t really about ego, just about practicality– Sam would want to talk about things, Natasha was super awkward, I could only imagine how awkward Clint might be, there was no way he had the patience for Tony…and so on. By process of elimination, I was the only one who might let him get away with pretending like he was fine. I didn’t actually intend to– but he didn’t have to know that.

There was still no response when I walked the last leg home, nor was there anything a half hour after that. I kept pacing around, checking my phone every few minutes, until my unease was too much to bear.

Me: Hey Me: You can tell me you don’t want to talk to me Me: But at least tell me you’re all right Me: Or else I’m going to get Natasha

A few knocks came just seconds later and I tripped over myself, accidentally running into the wall next to the door on my way to check the peephole. I breathed a giant sigh of relief at the hulking mass of blond man hunched outside, and I practically ripped open the door.

He was distracted by something down the hall so he didn’t look at me right away, but when he did, he blinked. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” I rubbed my sore shoulder a bit and tried for a smile. “Nice of you to call.”

The way his face fell when he didn’t even look that happy to start with was heartbreakingly impressive. “I’m sorry, it’s just– I’m off duty right now and I don’t want to be alone,” he said and hunched in on himself– and winced as he did so.

“Hey, hey, it’s all good and I’m glad you’re here.” I pulled him inside (gently) and as soon as the door was shut, I kissed him. “But if you rip open a stitch or otherwise hurt yourself, I’m going to be pissed.”

His smile was wry, like a punch of sarcasm all on its own. “Pissed enough to rip out all of my stitches?”

“If you’re going back to the hospital we might as well make it worth the trip, and quell some of my rage while we’re at it.” But it didn’t feel very funny, considering how Steve was right now, and how he got that way. “I– I didn’t mean– I wouldn’t–”

“I know you wouldn’t,” he said gently.

I sighed. “Can you handle me being super neurotic?” I asked, only partly joking.

“Can you?” he asked, even less joking. He pushed his hair back with one hand. “I’m pretty sure I’m worse company right now.”

“You’re not bad company. I’m glad you’re here.” I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my head to his chest. “Saves me a trip to your apartment. And you know how cranky I get after the subway.”

“Well, I’m pretty cranky right now too.” But he wrapped one arm around me and breathed deeply. “I really should have called, huh?”

“It was mostly a joke. You’ll get it when you check your phone messages.” I stayed there for a few more moments, and when I pulled back, I took one of his hands. The other had a backpack in it, but I didn’t comment on it. “Have you eaten?”

“I’m not hungry,” he said and let me lead him over to the couch.

“Something light?” I asked hopefully. “You need to eat to heal up.”

He looked askance, but I continued to stare at him, so when he finally did look at me, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t see me. He hesitated, so I took a chance and tried to look as sincere as possible. Surprisingly, that got him. “Something light and small,” he said firmly.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said and squeezed his hand before leaving him to get comfy while I tried to figure out something we could both stomach.

Dinner was…fine. Awkward, with both of us trying to find something to talk about that wasn’t…well, unappetizing. Afterwards we did cuddle for a bit, carefully, and he started to relax a little. I could feel it, with how he let his head drift into my shoulder, the way his body started to curl into mine…

And I, trying to get more comfortable, lifted my foot to set it on the table only to shove it into our half-empty dinner containers, knocking them down to the other side of the table where they cracked open, making an immediate mess and ruining everything.

“Fuck,” I said as Steve sat up and away. I almost told him to ignore it and come back, but he was already bracing himself to get up, so instead I tried damage control. “I’m sorry; stay here and I’ll take care of it.”

“It’s fine, I can help,” he said and, stubborn jerk he was, went to the kitchen. That was better than the alternative, though, so I went to pick up the trash and waited on my knees for him to get back with the paper towels. He wouldn’t be doing any bending or crouching if I could help it; he was still moving stiff and careful, and I really didn’t want him to have to go back to the hospital. I wanted him here; safe and warm and not bleeding.

“Thanks,” I said as he put the trash containers in the bag they came in and tied it firmly shut. I did one last wipe around the floors to make sure I got all the splatter. Once I was certain I wouldn’t have any weird smells in the aftermath, I went to add them to the trash can.

Only to see Steve, with the lid propped open and the food bag still in his hand, staring at it like he was trying to solve an equation. Admittedly, the trash was very full. He even looked at me, at it, and back at me again. He gestured at the used paper towels in my hand. “I don’t think even those are going to fit.”

“Very funny,” I said, but it was nice to hear him joke. Even if it was stupid.

I dumped the paper towels, and then, since he was pinning the can already, took the trash bag out and helped him shove the smaller bag down in there before tying the whole thing off. “See? No problem.”

“Your ability to put chores off to the last possible second continues to inspire,” he said dryly.

“Yeah, I’m amazing,” I said and flexed. He motioned his hand for the bag. I shook my head. “I’ve got it. Go sit down; I’ll be right back.”

Something changed in his expression. It was more like a flash, like there was something in his eyes, or the way his lips moved, but I wasn’t fast enough to really take note, let alone name it.

However, he then shook his head, swallowed, and tried for lightness that was very obviously fake when he said, “Why don’t you let me take it?” He even moved to do just that, but he stopped just before I could poke him right in the stomach.

“Get back on the couch, Stitches,” I said. “I’d have thought you’d be glad not to have to deal with the trash.”

“Better me than you, considering the amount you manage to accumulate,” he said, eyeing the bag.

“Watch it, mister, or I will beat you with it.” I slipped on my flip-flops. “Hang tight; I promise I’ll be right back.”

“Let me come with,” he said quickly. “I won't touch the bag. Promise.”

“Steve,” I said, trying to be gentle because he had every right to be as paranoid as he wanted to be, but it wasn’t good for him. “I’ll be fine. Two minutes.”

He stepped close and gave me…the puppy eyes. Damn him. “Humor me?” he asked and there was nothing light or joking in his tone. So I caved, and let him do what he needed to do. Admittedly, it was nice to have someone open the door for me, but when he winced at lifting the chute cover, I glared him down until he backed off and stood watch. Once the garbage was done with, I opened my arm to him, and he forced a brief smile, linked his arm with mine, and we walked back home together and flopped onto the couch.

“See?” he said with a little too much ‘told you so’ for a man who basically supervised one of the easiest (if most annoying) household chores.

“I saw quite a bit,” I said and poked at his bicep. However I then started rubbing it, and when he actually let out a sigh that sounded like relief I started in earnest. “Are you sore?”

“In some places more than others,” he admitted. “I’m…mostly just tired, I think.”

“Okay. A little rub-down, and then we’ll hit the hay,” I said.

He actually took the bait. “What kind of rub-down?” he asked, but while his voice was light, it wasn’t as enthusiastic as he might have been normally, even if all he was going to do was make a stupid follow-up to my already stupid joke.

Still, I gave it some thought. “Would you like that kind of ‘rub-down?’” I asked, because sometimes an orgasm was a nice way to relax yourself for sleep, and if anybody needed to let out a little tension, Steve was it.

He actually took my suggestion for careful consideration. And I had my answer when his face fell. “Maybe I am worse off than I thought,” he said, almost mournfully.

I stood up, and held out my hands to him. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

He let me take one hand but used the other one to push himself off the couch. He-of-little-faith wasn’t wrong in assuming I couldn’t do much right now, given I was tired too, but it was still vaguely insulting. “I can’t even surprise you by picking you up,” he complained as we made the short trek.

“Oh noooo,” I said, mocking sadness. “Whatever will I d-o!”

Steve wrapped his arms around me from behind and yanked me back into him so he could bite the back of my neck. I let out a laugh and smacked at his hand. “Fucking vampire.”

“Mm hm,” he said and nuzzled that part of my skin. Getting ready for bed was extra challenging, because Steve was so reluctant to let go. And reluctant to acknowledge that in any way. I tried to give him a hint with a hip bump or two, but he came right back next to me, touching or holding whatever he could, and I did my best to work around it. No wonder he was still exhausted, if he was still this on edge and hypervigilant, but we got into bed without tripping over each other, and while Steve didn’t let me lay on top of him, he did pull me right up close to his body, and draped an arm and leg over me. Despite all that, though, he barely relaxed.

“SHIELD’s wasting time on a security detail for me,” I said softly, running my hand up and down his arm.

“I know,” he said. He swallowed. “And it’s not a waste of time.”

“So sleep,” I said, forestalling the argument that was going to come out of that last part. “If anything happens, you’ll know about it.”

He sighed. “I wish it was that easy.”

“I know,” I said. “But…try.”

He blinked a few times, but nodded a bit and shut his eyes, at least. I shut my eyes, and tried to stay awake with him, but exhaustion was too strong, and I could only hope it was the same for him.

I woke to the sound of my alarm and had an immediate reaction of ‘fuck no’ so strong that I flopped around for my phone and took it in hand. Steve was stirring, which made me a little mad, since he actually had fallen asleep at some point. I checked the time, but I knew my boss was up, since he was definitely an early riser, and when I called him to call out of work for the day, my voice was so naturally rough he let it go without a comment other than a generic wish to get well soon.

At the end I croaked out a “Thanks,” hung up, and snuggled back next to Steve.

He pulled me even closer and chuckled. “Liar, liar, pants on fire…”

I grabbed Moo Cow Milk Tea and thwapped Steve in the head with him. “Go back to sleep, or I will literally set your pants on fire.”

“But you’ll buy me a new pair,” he said and nuzzled me.

“Nope; I’ll let you do the walk of shame.”

“Or maybe you just want to keep me here. Pantsless.”

I smiled and tried to hold back my laughter. “Ah, you have discovered my nefarious plan to keep you all to myself forever,” I said as flatly as I could. “You may never leave now that you know my villainous secret, Captain America.”

“A villain has me in her bed and only wants to take my pants?” He kissed my neck. “You might be the worst wanna-be evil-doer I’ve ever faced.”

“Watch it, buddy; I think that Porcupine asshole is way less efficient than me. I mean, how are you going to fight other bad guys without pants? They’d never take you seriously.”

“But then they’d be too busy laughing and I’d beat them handily.”

“Because you’re shameless.”

He chuckled against my head. “Because I’m shameless.”

We went back to sleep together, but I woke up alone to the late morning sun. Moo Cow Milk Tea was on Steve’s pillow, positioned on his back with his arms (mostly) behind his head, like he was relaxing. I snorted at the sight.

“I tried to get his legs to cross, but they wouldn’t stay,” Steve said as he walked in with two cups of coffee.

“It’s so nice to see the two of you finally getting along,” I said, and made grabby hands for one of the mugs.

“It’s a stuffed animal,” Steve scoffed as he sat in his spot, but he gave me what I was nonverbally asking for. However as soon as that hand was free, he grabbed Moo Cow Milk Tea and tossed him flippantly behind himself, where the poor inanimate object hit the wall and fell to the floor.

I stifled laughter and focused on swallowing the drink I was trying to take in. Once it was safely down my gullet, I said, “A stuffed animal you gave me.”

“So I can take it back,” he said faux-snobbishly.

I gave him a serious look. “One: no,” I said flatly, even though I knew he didn’t mean it. “Two: it’s a stuffed animal you gave me and that’s why I like it, you doofus.” I blew on the hot liquid. “It’s nice to have around when you aren’t here.”

“Well…I guess that’s all right then,” he said, slightly mollified and dropping the act. He leaned in for a kiss, and I rolled my eyes but met him halfway.

“Morning,” I said as I sat back.

He bobbed his head, and smiled a little bitterly. “Yeah. It– it sure is a morning,” he said, looking down at his cup.

“Did you eat?”

He grimaced. “I’m not hungry,” he said. He barely had the words out before his stomach rumbled, and he ducked into his shoulders more as a light flush graced his face.

“Your stomach disagrees,” I said as sympathetically as I could. Needing to eat but not wanting to– been there; who hadn’t.

“I don’t know what it’s talking about,” he said sourly and took another drink.

“Hmm.” I sipped mine. “What about just trying some toast? It’s relatively easy to get down, but if you decide you really don’t want any, I can finish it up for you.”

He was quiet, and kept his mouth close to the lip of his mug. I didn’t think the coffee was helping much with whatever nausea he might have been feeling, but he didn’t need me nagging at him. He was a grown man; he could decide if and when he wanted to eat. For the moment I simply enjoyed his company, and the start of a day relatively sheltered from the ambient noise of the city in motion outside. After a few minutes, he capitulated. “Maybe just a couple of slices,” he said quietly.

When he got some food in him, though, his appetite opened up, though he was hesitant to indulge it. I tried to make suggestions, but when he started being more resistant, I backed off. Much of the day passed like that, in a weird, quiet haze, with me trying to take care of Steve with intermittent suggestions of food and shower and rest, and he allowed it at certain increments, and to certain points that didn’t make much sense to me. He relented to a shower, but refused the nice warm clothes I tried to give him; he ate a bowl of cereal, but shook his head on my offer to order a good lunch, even though he was obviously still hungry.

I didn’t know if he was in his head and doing this for reasons known only to him, or if this was a weird act of self-recrimination– take only the bare minimum I could give, or asked him to do, and allow himself no other comfort from it. I didn’t like the implications, but talking was also not something he was willing to do much of. Being at home on a random work weekday was surreal enough, and Steve being quiet and moody only added to it.

I was still happier to have him with me, though. The thought of him having to suffer alone at home was a miserable one. Maybe the day kind of sucked. But the whole situation sucked, and was going to suck no matter what. I leaned against him in relief, and after only a moment of tensing, he relaxed, and wrapped his arm around me.

In the evening, after coaxing him into finally having his first real, full meal of the day, he was sitting on the couch, fiddling with something while I cleaned up and got some drinks together. When I got back to the couch, Steve was flipping through a thin, battered-looking folder.

“What’s that?” I asked as I sat down next to him.

“The new file we found on the Wi- on Bucky,” Steve said and let it flop shut. He was quiet and I let him be as he sank back into the couch cushion, looking lost in thought.

I nudged his arm. “I got that fancy juice you like,” I said and held it to him.

“Thanks sweetheart,” he said, words without thought, but he did take the drink and sip at it. He held it down on his thigh and sighed. “I’m sorry I’m so…”

I made sure he wasn’t going to finish that sentence before I responded. “You get to be any which way you want right now,” I said. “There’s no right or wrong way to deal with this.”

“Sam’s got suggestions,” he said wryly.

“Because he’s your friend,” I said. “He knows therapist shit because it’s his wheelhouse and his interest. But you know anything he tells you now is because he cares about you.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I just…don’t know that I deserve it.”

I leaned against him and chewed on that. “Is it better to think that?” I asked quietly. “Does it make you feel better to think that–”

“There’s no feeling better right now,” he said, flat, fast. He shook a little and I sat up to see tears barely brimming at his eyes. He actually let them fall. Or maybe he just had so little control right now. I could wish for the former, but I feared it was the latter. He swallowed a couple of times, and confirmed said fear when the tears stopped and he abruptly rubbed his face dry. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Okay,” I said. “No judgement, but is touch okay, or not okay?”

He gave it some thought. “Small touch,” he said, in a small voice. I was slow as I slid my hands over one of his, but when he didn’t flinch away, I held it, and pushed back the desire to grip it for dear life.

“I have to find him,” he said. He wrapped his fingers around mine and looked at me. “I have to help him.”

I nodded. Of course he was going to; this was Bucky, he was Steve’s everythi-

Oh.

A lump lodged in my throat. Logically I knew this might happen, and still I couldn’t help but be stupid and selfish about it. “Of course,” I said, shoving back all the ugly feelings I didn’t want to know the details of. I hated what had been done to him too, and while I didn’t know Bucky, I knew enough via Steve to want him safe and happy. By proxy if nothing else. “Are you…are you going to–…do you want to–…is this–…”

“Oh, God.” Steve inhaled sharply and gripped my hand tighter. “Sweetheart, no, I– I have no idea where his head’s at. I know he’s been back in the city at least twice. That he did everything in his power to make sure I didn’t notice him once.” He swallowed again. “I love him. I knew I always would. Like I love Peggy, and always will.” He turned and leaned his forehead in to touch mine, and I could hear– and feel– how ragged his breathing was. “And I love you. Right now. And nothing can change that. I’m not leaving you; this isn’t– unless you want–”

“I don’t, I don’t,” I said quickly. I swallowed back some of that emotion, now that imminent doom wasn’t hanging over my head. “I just know how much he means to you.”

“Do you know how much you mean to me?” he asked and gave me a small, slow kiss.

“I try,” I admitted, because thinking too much about that felt…egotistical in a way I still couldn’t quite grasp. Sometimes, maybe. Not now, though; not with Bucky back throwing everything for a loop. Well, for a definition of ‘back.’

“But…”

I looked up. His eyes were still down. “I will have to leave at some point. Physically, at least.” He looked right at me, forcing eye contact and squeezing my hand hard when I tried to look away. “I don’t know how long it will be, how long it will take, but I have to find him. I have to help him.”

I opened my mouth on instinct. “I–”

“Just– listen for a moment,” he said, and at that point he looked away again. I did as he said and waited, until he gathered himself together again. “I don’t want to break up. But I know this situation is…it’s fucked. It’s all fucked up and you don’t have to deal with it– no, I know you care, I know everyone cares, but this is so much more than anyone should have to deal with. I’m choosing it. Actively. Even if it means going against SHIELD.” He gave me a wry smile. “They don’t trust the Winter Soldier, and I understand why. But I trust Bucky. I know he’s been getting on all right, but after this last time…it’s obvious his luck won’t hold forever, and now that I know he’s alive, whether he wants anything to do with me or not, I still have to do this. No matter what, I have to help him, and to do that, I have to find him. I might be gone more frequently, and for longer. And asking you to wait for me while I chase after him is…”

He shook his head and sat up, backing away from me just slightly. “It’s a lot. I know it is, and while I’m ninety-nine percent sure I know what you’ll say right now, I am asking you, sincerely, to take time and really, really think about it. I would not think one bit less of you if you decide it’s too much, but I can’t stand the thought of you committing to me, committing to all of this mess, without really, truly, thinking it through.” He looked at me again. “And when I say that, I mean I want you to think about what you want too. Not just what you think is the right answer, or what you think I want. So please, can you take some time, and really think it over?”

I knew what I wanted to say, but he gave me a stern look. I stuck out my tongue, and he actually moved as if to nip at it. “Hey!” I said in mock-offense, but some of the tenson broke, and Steve came back to me, smiling, and nipped at my lips until I opened up and let him in.

I tried to hold back, but part of me wanted to devour him; take all this comfort for all it was worth, but I drank him in steady doses, until he slowed, and we rested our heads together in silence.

The rest of the night was pretty quiet. The TV felt too loud, and none of my music sounded right, so I let it be, and so did Steve. After a while he picked up the slim folder again and started flipping through it, on the side opposite me, and I tried to respect his wishes and keep my eyes away. I could have gone to get a book. Or pulled out my phone. Instead, I sat there, and stayed in the comforting knowledge that, right now, Steve was here, and Steve was safe.

He wouldn’t always be. I tried to do as he asked, but my answer was much the same– if Steve didn’t want to end things with me, I didn’t want to end things with him. I saw no point in dragging that out. I loved Steve, but he was already complicated as all hell. He was an active-duty hero, who didn’t know when to quit, who had a lot of PTSD and issues and…love. He and Peggy weren’t together anymore, but he still loved her. Bucky was– had been– gone, but Steve’s love for him was sometimes strong enough I could almost picture him on Steve’s other side when he was sitting beside me, the few times he felt good enough to indulge in those stories.

So I had to wonder– was I okay with that maybe being a reality? True, we didn’t know where Bucky’s head was at, and the guy had a hell of a lot going on these days; but given Steve had, apparently, broken intense and painful brainwashing not once but twice, it felt stupid to think there were no shared feelings there. Maybe Bucky wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with him again, for whatever reason. But they both still loved each other. Was I okay enough to deal with that?

“I’m not going anywhere,” I blurted out. Steve’s hand slowly stopped its absent sliding up and down the page, and he flipped the manila folder shut. I stared at my lap. Was it foolish? Maybe. Was it easy? It probably wouldn’t be. Did I still know the answer with a certainty I’d never had for anything else in my life? Unequivocally yes. Which just made me second-guess myself more, honestly. “I don’t know what else you want me to do to prove it, but…I know what I want. And I want to stay with you.” I swallowed any potential lingering fear and doubt, and shut my hands to tight fists. “I’m not going to overthink it– I’m just going to take you at your word, and trust that you want me. So…trust me too.”

I kept my head down, but he slid his hands over mine, curled his fingers to hold my fists, and squeezed. “Okay,” he said softly. “So…we’re in this together.”

I lifted my head to look at him. His eyes were a little misty, and he didn’t move to ‘fix’ them. “Yeah,” I said. I uncurled my fists and turned my hands so I could squeeze his in return. “We’re in it together. All of it.” I paused. “Except for any punchy bits. You can keep those.”

He let out a watery little laugh. “Really?”

“Yeah. Trust me, you don’t want me. I can’t even take out a fly at work that’s been making my life hell for like a fucking week now.”

He started laughing, though he also tried not to. “That sounds real tough, Sweetheart.”

I widened my eyes and gave him the saddest pout I could manage. “My life is the hardest, ever.”

He broke. Mostly into laughter, but the tear dam fell a bit too– not a lot, but some. He swallowed and blinked them back, or out, and I brushed my fingers over the escapees to dry his cheeks. He took my hand and almost smiled, but his expression straightened into something serious. “On a sort of related note, I want to ask you for just one more thing,” he said. He looked right at me. “Don’t refuse the SHIELD detail.”

I let out a tiny little sigh that I wanted to make a much, much bigger sigh, but also didn’t want to antagonize him into an actual fight. “Steve–”

“I mean it,” he said firmly. “I know– maybe it’s overbearing, but Bucky– he is the Winter Soldier. He almost killed Fury. He almost killed me. The mention of his code name terrified Natasha to the point where she couldn’t hide it. He is coming off brainwashing and drugs and training and while I know the man I love is still in there, I also know what can still happen if the wrong people get at him.” He put my hand over his bandaged shoulder. “And I won’t risk you for anything. Not even him.”

It still seemed silly– if Bucky was some big-time assassin, what could a couple of SHIELD agents do other than maybe get killed. If everyone really was as worried for me as they kept saying they were, then I doubted I would be allowed the free rein I (apparently) still had over my life and where I went and what I did.

But…I kept circling around that last part, and the implication it held. That if Steve had to, he’d go to the mat for me. For me. And while it was probably some (more than a little) for Bucky too, since the man Steve knew and loved wouldn’t have wanted to be a killer of random civilians, the sentiment still punched all the hot air right out of me. “Will it really make you feel better?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said without one iota of hesitation.

I sighed for real. “Fine.” It made me uneasy– because if Bucky did come around, I didn’t think SHIELD was going to be as lenient in their use of force as maybe Steve would, given Fury’s entire demeanor at that meeting and how even Phil had looked so tense, but even if Bucky knew about me, I truly believed he didn’t care one way or the other, and that was about the only thing that made this tolerable.

“Thank you.” Steve kissed me. “You won’t even notice them.”

“So everyone keeps telling me, but I don’t think that’s as reassuring as you all think it is,” I said dryly. It got a little chuckle out of him, and an understanding (perhaps commiserating) nod. I sighed. Well, that was that. However…

“I, uh…I do have one other thing about all this to bring up,” I said. I probably would have felt worse about it, but I was entirely drained. “Sharon drove me home after…after I visited you in the SHIELD medical…thing. She mentioned she was waiting to see Peggy in person to tell her, but I…I asked if she would let you give her the news instead.”

He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look anything but exhausted, and stared down at his lap. “I don’t…I don’t know how to even say it.”

“I know.” I took both his hands in both of mine and squeezed. “It’s going to suck, and it’s going to hurt, and you don’t have to, but…I think you should. I think she should hear it from you. I think you should be there for each other.” I swallowed hard. “I’m gonna be here for you for every bit of this, day or night, whatever, whenever you need, but…no one’s going to feel this the way the two of you are. And I think you should. Together.”

He squeezed back, and we just sat like that, for several minutes. Over that time, he slowly folded in on himself, and I leaned on him, and I let his tears flow over my hands like water draining from a cracked cup, until eventually they stopped, and he lifted himself up. Just slightly. “You’re right,” he said. “I want…I need to be the one to tell her.”

I was silent while Steve pulled himself back together. I did try to help dry some of the tears, and he leaned into my hand. “‘Whatever, whenever,’ huh?” He gave me an attempt at a smile. “What if I need company for a run at four a.m.?”

“You know I can’t run,” I said. But since his tone was only barely a joke, I added, “…But, we can walk. And I’ll limit myself to only three complaints.”

He actually perked up. “What if I get you a coffee?”

I tried not to show that I was biting down an internal scream. He was actually going to do this to me, I could already tell. But there was still seriousness even in his teasing, and it wasn’t like he slept great before all this bullshit happened, so, in the interest of making sure I would still be a safe place for my boyfriend to come to while the rest of his life fell down around him, I fucking sucked it up. “Coffee will bring me down to…two complaints.”

His smile grew a little more and he turned his head to give my hand a kiss before he sat back. “I won’t abuse that privilege,” he said, a little too seriously.

“You might have to come shake me awake,” I warned him. “But. You know where I sleep.”

“Mm.” He smiled weakly. “That actually sounds nice right now.”

“Yeah?” It really did, and if Steve thought he could sleep, then that was better than nothing. I stood, held out my hand, and this time he took it easily. “Let’s go to bed.”

I actually woke before my alarm. Given the fact we had gone to bed a lot earlier than I would have normally, that wasn’t surprising. That Steve was still asleep, though, was. I kept my victory fist-pump to myself, made sure to turn my alarm off for the day, then carefully considered my escape. Steve’s hand was on my side, and his face was right behind me, but I did some incremental sliding towards the edge of the bed and he didn’t seem to appear bothered, so I kept up my snail’s pace, until I was too far to take his hand any further, very carefully lifted it, and then set it on the bed. Again, he didn’t stir; just let out a little huff of air and snuggled into the pillow. I resisted the urge to give him a kiss, and went to the bathroom to start getting ready.

It was a slower process than usual, but there was only so much I could do to keep quiet. I kept the door shut for my shower, but had to come back out for my clothes. I kept the door halfway shut to block most of the light, and the way it opened kept direct light away from him, so for most of my morning routine I let it be, and just tried to keep it down while I got ready. I was almost done when I banged my hand against the counter hard enough to make me start a, “Fucking–!” before I remembered I was trying to be quiet. I looked over, and sure enough, he was watching me.

“Hey,” I said quietly, mindful that only one eye was open, and shook out my aching limb. “Sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you.” I was going to shut the door, but I stopped and leaned on it instead. “Do you want me to call out of work again?”

He shook his head. “I have some things to take care of today,” he mumbled sleepily, and he smiled. “I like watching you get ready.”

I snorted. “I can spit toothpaste like no other.”

“I was really impressed when you tripped into your pants,” he said. I almost wanted to call out just because he looked so stupid-cute, half-snuggled into the pillow, but if he was going out later anyways, then I might as well go to work.

I flicked off the bathroom light and went over to briefly sit on the bed, leaning down to give him a kiss. “Take your time,” I said.

“Mm hm,” he said, and pulled me in for one more kiss, before letting go. I pulled the blanket up to his shoulder, leaving his arm out the way he preferred, and watched him start to snooze again, before I grabbed my things, turned off the lights, and left him to a peaceful rest.

Later that morning, the fly landed on my cubicle wall, just off to the side, within arm’s reach, and stared at me. Or maybe it wasn’t staring at me. But it felt like it was. I scowled just in case and considered another attempt to swat the thing, but I was already testing my neighbor’s patience with how hard I had smacked the wall twice already today, and I knew from experience that all I was going to get for my trouble was a stinging hand and pointed glare from over the other side. So instead, I picked up my phone, took a picture, and sent it to Steve with a simple message.

Me: THIS MOTHERFUCKER

I put my phone down and tried to get back to work, only swatting at the thing when it got too close to my head. (That buzzing right near my ears made me want to chew through my own jaw.)

But then there was a different kind of buzzing. From a different person.

Sam: Hey, so, I try real hard not to snoop… Sam: But I walked in and saw Steve doubled over and I was worried he was crying so I peeked at his phone. Sam: And while now I’m pretty sure he’s laughing– Sam: Still. Continuously. Endlessly. Etc.– Sam: I wanted to ask: Sam: Are YOUokay?

I smiled and chewed on the question while I responded to an urgent email from my boss. And came to a conclusion.

Me: You know Me: I think I will be Me: We both will.

When I arrived home, there was no Steve, but the living area had been picked up, the kitchen counters were cleaned off, and there was a bundle of flowers by the sink with a note sticking out of them. And Moo Cow Milk Tea hugging the base of the colorful cellophane-wrapped pot. I picked up the note and read through it.

“Sweetheart–

I’ll be away for a couple of days. I have that thing to take care of. In D.C. I told Sam, and he’s going to stay close by in case I need him. So don’t worry– I’ll be okay. In my absence, I have instructed Moo Cow Milk Tea to take care of the house while I’m gone. He’ll take good care of you ;)

I love you and I’ll be back as soon as I can.

Love, Your boyfriend. AKA Not-a-stupid-stuffed-animal. AKA Steve.”

I laughed even as I rolled my eyes. I almost regretted bringing the damn thing up, but then I picked up Moo Cow Milk Tea and…smelled him. He smelled like Steve. Like Steve’s cologne, when he got stuck going to some stupid-ass fancy party.

I blinked away tears, and hugged the stupid stuffed animal before I grabbed my phone.

Me: Don’t worry Me: You are still number one Me: Moo Cow can’t order takeout when I don’t want to deal with the phone Steve: Ah yes, fingers: why I am the best Steve: Wait Steve: I didn’t mean it like that

I grinned.

Me: No, you’re right. On both counts.

I sent the kissy face. He sent a lot of blushing faces back. I stood there for a moment, mind blanking, until I realized I still didn’t really know what to say.

Me: Say hi to Peggy for me Steve: I will Steve: Take care sweetheart. I’ll be in some SHIELD meetings when I get back, but I meant it: I promise I’ll be back soon

‘Not leaving yet,’ I took that to mean.

Me: Well, call if you need anything Me: ‘In this together’ and all that

Together– in boyfriends-turned-assassins back from the dead, and potential four AM wake-up calls. One of those was decidedly less pleasant than the other, and, in my humble opinion, it wasn’t the one full of knives. Ugh.

For now, I heaved out a giant sigh, then picked up the stuffed animal and flowers all together and took them to the living room. I set the flowers in the middle of the coffee table, where they could look pretty for a few days, and held Moo Cow Milk Tea as I set up a favorite movie guaranteed to make me cry. I was still on edge, and I needed a release to get me back to semi-normal. Nothing about this was going to be easy, even if Bucky showed up randomly tomorrow, so I had to be strong and steady for whatever was coming next. Because I was here, with Steve, for all of it, and knew I would be, no matter what.

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#steve rogers x reader #captain america fanfic #avengers fanfic #captain america reader insert #avengers reader insert #dinner date

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bratshaws · 2 years

Text

through the hourglass 103. brb x oc

a/n: oh boy fluff.....are you guys ready for next chapter's angst?

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none,everything is all good............. :3c

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

50/51/52/53/54/55/56/57/58/59/60/61/62/63/64/65/66/67/68/69/70/71/72/73/74/75/76/77/78/79/80/81/82/83/84/85/86/87/88

/89/90/91/92/93/94/95/96/97/98/99/100/101/102

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Nicole was getting bigger every day, and with December finally on the corner, Beatrice had to buy more clothes for their now six months old baby. And Nicole, ever since she started talking, was much more active than she thought she’d ever be, all the more alert too.

“Thanks for joining me,Ev.” she says as she holds up a tiny shirt in front of her eyes, “With Roos working and Shells asleep I didn’t want to be here alone.”

Evelyn just smiles as she leans over the edge of the shopping cart, “It’s no problem, you were with me when I chose mine.” she explained, grinning down at Nicole who just stared back with her big eyes, “She’s so cute,Bea.”

“She is.” Beatrice says proudly, “Sometimes I can’t believe she’s mine and Rooster’s. We created this adorable little being.” as if on cue Nicole gurgles a laugh, shaking her monkey toy so its tinkle echoed all over the aisle they were currently at, “Anyway, how are you feeling though? It’s been…two months now,right?”

Evelyn looks down at her stomach, just a tiny bump that protruded against the lycra pants, “Everything is fine, ultrasounds have been doing great. Jake is…excited, he already told his mom and his sister and we decided we don’t wanna find the gender out. Unless we accidentally do, but everything is fine.”

“That’s good Ev!” Beatrice grins, “Are you coming to Marcus’ launch party next week?”

“You bet I am.” Evelyn chuckles, following Beatrice as she picked more clothes to plop in the cart, “Marcus is very excited about it, you did a wonderful job.”

Beatrice was still nervous when getting compliments about her art but she accepted it with a smile and a light red blush. She was just nervous about what others would think about it, which she shouldn’t, she should just accept she did a good job and Marcus liked it, “Thank you. I hope the photoshoot was good too.”

“Are you kidding? You know you are Marcus’ favorite.” cue to another blush, “And he didn’t want to show anyone them yet because he wanted to see Rooster’s reaction firsthand.”

“Oh?”

‘He finds you two absolutely adorable, he told me.” Evelyn smiles, no malice or contempt in her voice when she says so, “You two are the modern love story everyone should go for. Honestly.”

Beatrice’s blush darkens because she does feel like she and Rooster were a modern love story like that. Sometimes it feels too unreal and it was crazy how happy she was with him - well, maybe not that crazy.

“You know…ever since I started dating Rooster my life just…changed.” she murmurs, looking at the tiny shoes she had in her hands, “I…I am so happy at the Hard Deck but I also can work with Marcus because Penny is an amazing boss…and I got married, and I had a baby and–”

“You never thought you’d have that.’

“No.” Bea admits sheepishly, “But I’m reminding myself I’m worthy of good things and I’m worthy of Rooster. I’m worthy of his love and his presence.”

“And I’m sure he feels the same way.”

Beatrice just grins more, partially covering her face with her hands because she still felt so giddy talking about him. It was such a magical feeling, like the fairy tales she read when she was child, she had her very own prince and treasure, “He does, he makes sure to let me know every time.” she giggles, placing the outfits inside the cart, “Do you feel like having lunch? I can pay for all this and we can figure something else to do later.”

Evelyn agrees and they go for the cashier, Beatrice removing Nicole from the cart and holding her close to her chest as she placed everything on the counter. It doesn’t take too long for them to leave the store, thanking the ladies inside and marching to the food court, chatting amongst themselves.

Beatrice however does a double take when she notices a new store with dark purples and blues and a large sign on top. The sign had hands hovering above a crystal ball, the words ‘The Crystal Hut’ were below the figures, “Huh, that’s new,right?”

“Wha?” Evelyn turns towards the shop as well, “Huh, it is,I’ve never seen it before.” she takes a look on the shelves that weren’t hidden by the dark curtains on the storefront, “Nice candles, maybe we can take a look after?”

“Yeah, sure,I don’t see why not.” Beatrice wonders if her aunt knew about this shop, it really seemed like something she’d love to visit one day. She gives the store one final look before the two walk away towards the food court, furrowing her brows because something about that store made her wonder why she had never seen it before.

Okay, it was new, but the mall wasn’t the type to have these sort of esoteric shops hanging around.

She blinked a bit, then shrugged, choosing to ignore that for now.

“I’m going to send Roos a message, what do you wanna eat,Ev?”

“Uh…I don’t know, probably some burgers.” her friend muttered, “With bacon fries. A lot of bacon fries.”

Ah,the urges were starting early. Beatrice suggested a random fast food restaurant as she pulled out her phone, smiling when Nicole tapped the screen the second she saw Rooster’s picture, “Yes,honey,it’s daddy. It is daddy.”

‘Dada!”

“Hmhm,it’s dada!”

Nicole vocalizes more, giggling when her mother moves the cell phone around her and Nicole tries her hardest to grab it just so she could see her father again, “Come on, help me text daddy,” she moves the phone closer, her daughter stares for a second so Beatrice has to gently press her small finger on the screen so a letter showed up.

Nicole gasps, now extremely excited about it and ready to see more of what this strange thing had in store.

Beatrice just allowed her daughter to keysmash for a few seconds, biting her lip to hold back her smile as she noticed that Nicole found emojis and was now sending Rooster the prettiest ones she could.

Bea (12:12)

Bottlebottlecar@@@@aswww11111boat?Orang.y89yh2y98hedyq229010111🤡👽 👑🚣🏻222211vrewewwcarcarcardogpool

Beatrice waited with her smile still present. Rooster’s bubble appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again a few times and she was sure her husband was having a hard time understanding what was going on.

Roos (12:15)

Bea…?

Roos (12:15)

What…is happening? Is your phone okay?

Beatrice giggled alongside Nicole who was just amused by her mother’s face, babbling happily before she brought the phone to her lips for text to speech.

Bea (12:19)

Oh,Roos.I’m sorry! That was just Nikki discovering the wonders of technology yes honey I’m talking to daddy right now. We are just sending you a message to say we love you a lot and miss you.How’s your day going? Good?

Roos (12:20)

Oh my god, that’s so precious. Holy shit she’s so smart. And my day is doing well, mentally preparing for the…classes I’ll join Mav in a few. But I’m fine.Are you two having fun?

Bea (12:21)

Absolutely. Nikki is a great companion and Evelyn is enjoying herself too. I bought new clothes for Nikki and she’s been having a blast. And I’m glad you are okay! :) You’ll do great,babe!

Roos (12:22)

Thank you gorgeous.I hope so…I don’t know why I’m so nervous.

Bea (12:22)

Well, I think it’s mainly because you didn’t do this in a long while,Roos.

Bea (12:23)

And well, because of Mav too. Did you talk to him at all?

Roos (12:23)

No. Should I even do that? Idk if he’s going to get it. Maybe after the instruction we can talk.

Bea (12:23)

Well if you are sure, handsome. I just want you to be okay…but on brighter news! We got the confirmation for Virginia! :) I just checked your email this morning and saw it.

Roos (12:25)

Oh sweet! Great, thanks for doing that, gorgeous. Really appreciate it.

Bea (12:26)

You don’t have to thank me Roos. By the way, I already got your Christmas gift! It’s all wrapped up and nicely hidden so you won’t ever find it.

Roos (12:26)

Aw :( not even a hint?

Bea (12:27)

Nope!

She was still smiling when the waitress places their food in front of them one of her hands already holding on Nicole when her daughter tried to reach the french fries much for Evelyn’s amusement.

Roos (12:28)

Can I get it out of you?;) You know I’m good with that.

Bea (12:28)

You can try but you’ll achieve nothing,Lieutenant Bradshaw.

Roos (12:29)

Babe I’m in the middle of the cafeteria. That’s cruel.

Bea (12:29)

I can be and you love it.

Roos (12:30)

That I do…I gotta finish things up here though, talk to you later gorgeous?

Bea (12:30)

Of course Roos :) We love you!

Roos (12:31)

Oh I love you guys too <3

She was still smiling when she put the phone in her bag and then placed the bag between her legs. Beatrice did a little shimmy out of pure elation before she took a bite of her fries, looking up only to see Evelyn’s knowing smirk,”You two are so gross.” her friend chuckles, “It’s adorable.”

“Well,” Beatrice swallows and then adjusts Nikki in her arm, “He does that to me…plus you and Jake are pretty cute too.”

Of course the level of PDA Evelyn and Jake shared was anything but alike to what Bea and Rooster had, Jake still liked touching Evelyn and loved to have her close by but he was a lot…calmer than her husband was. And honestly, it worked for her friend,” So, when is the wedding again?” Beatrice asks, “February?”

“That’s the plan, we want Jake’s whole family to come and both sides of mine want to be here, we’d need time to schedule everything because it’s a lot of people.” Evelyn explains, sipping her Sprite, “It’s not like your wedding, we wouldn’t need to rent a stadium in any case, but it’s a lot of people.”

Beatrice just smiles sweetly at her friend, “Well,I know it’ll be amazing. Anything planned for our bachelorette party?”

“I want to stay home,” Evelyn begins, gesturing to Beatrice with a nugget, “I want to sleep and I want to eat red velvet cake. That’s all I want. There’s not a lot i want to do now that I have a little bean inside of me.” she explains, “Plus, you know I prefer to chill than party most of the time, your wedding was the only time I actually had fun.”

“Well,I’m really happy to know that.” Nicole’s ‘mama’ only made Beatrice lift the soda cup to her lips when the little baby tried to grab the straw, “I know it’ll be amazing. And…how’s your dad now? Is he okay with you and Jake?”

“He was already better then but…I think now he finally gets it.” she smiles a bit, an almost thankful shadow passing over her face, “I…I’m just happy he’ll walk me down the aisle, that’s all…and my grandpa will be there too, so yeah.”

“I’m really happy for you Ev.”

Evelyn smiles more, wiping her fingers on her napkin and then sighing, “I feel at peace.” she murmured, “And now we just have to wait when will Shells and Bob tie the knot.”

“I don’t think they will so soon.”

“Oh please, really?”

“We know how Shells is.” Bea shrugs, “She’d much rather enjoy what they have now than to-” she curls and relaxes her fingers “ ‘settle down to boredom’. Even if Bob is anything but boring to her.” her daughter tries to grab her soda again and Beatrice just kisses the top of her head and laughs, “I think it’ll take a while still.”

“Hm,maybe.”

“How’s the baby treating you though?”

“Honestly?” Bea nods, “I’ve been having cravings. I ate a whole bag of banana chips in one sitting and I sprayed whipped cream in my mouth at three in the morning…isn’t it too early to have cravings?”

Beatrice shrugs, “I had mine before I even knew I was pregnant with Nicole.” she says,the little girl in question muttering a ‘mama’ that neared annoyance because she kept being moved around in her mother’s lap, only stopping when Beatrice shook the rubber monkey on her face, making the little girl immediately grab and chomp on it, “You remember.”

“Yeah, you stopped drinking.” Evelyn recalls, “And you started hating sushi.”

“A mistake I’ll never forgive myself for.”

Both women shared a laugh and Evelyn lowered her eyes to her stomach, “...I don’t mind, Jake doesn’t mind either…but besides that I’m not having nausea or anything, not yet at least.”

Beatrice was happy to see that Evelyn was coming to terms with her newfound pregnancy, in fact she sounded way happier than she was a few months back. It was just the shock taking over, Beatrice thought.

After their lunch, which was really good and Nikki even had some fresh peach puree while her mother ate that less than healthy but clearly delicious lunch, they went back to the esoteric store. Thankfully the incense smell was less intense than any other store the two been to before, it wasn’t nauseating and it wasn’t irritating Nikki so that was good enough.

A young woman, with long hair to her waist and a dress that resembles something Stevie Nicks would wear, smiled at them, “Hello, welcome,welcome. Do you know what you are looking for?” Evelyn opens her mouth to answer, only for the woman to smile, “You, you like candles…cinnamon and…jasmine. We just got new arrivals this week.”

Evelyn didn’t look amused, nor impressed,”You just saw me looking through the glass…but you are right I do like those.”

“And you,” the woman turns to Bea, “You…lavender, but you don’t like candles. You prefer oils and lotions and soaps. And you enjoy chamomile too, because it relaxes you.”

While she could understand Evelyn, Beatrice didn’t approach the storefront to check what was inside, she just blinked owlishly at the woman while holding a curious Nikki in her arms, “W-Well,um…y-yeah.”

“And cotton flower.” the woman grins at Nicole, “For your baby.”

Nicole vocalized something while her mother just stared, dumbfounded as the woman spoke to her, Beatrice’s jaw falling open because how did she– maybe she flicked her eyes around quickly and the woman noticed what she was looking at? It had to be, ‘Um…I-I think I’m okay.” she laughs nervously, hugging Nicole closer to herself, “I’m just here with my friend.”

“Ah,of course.” but the woman’s mysterious smile hadn’t changed, in fact her eyes moved to Evelyn, “Congratulations on your pregnancy, it’ll be a very healthy baby.” Evelyn’s tossed ‘thank you’ meant she wasn’t really paying attention, too busy checking the scented candles. Beatrice squirmed a bit, chewing her lower lip as she tried to appear busy, but the woman had other plans, “My name is Opal.” she said with the same grin.

“Um…I’m Beatrice, that’s Evelyn and this is Nicole.”

“Hm…yes, a B showed up in my mind.”

Oh God it’s like talking to her aunt.

“And…your husband, he’s a B too,no?” Beatrice furrowed her brows because how did she know about Brad? “Yes…meant to happen.”

“I’m sorry?”

Opal smiles more, “You two,” she says, “Were meant to happen. Your souls are connected, locked,” she locks her own fingers for emphasis, “You were meant to find one another, always and in every life.”

Well, that her aunt told her about, in fact she was…always talking about it when she first met Brad. “...that’s…really nice, thank you.”

“You are welcome…now, would you like anything?” Beatrice looks around a bit, then she locks eyes with a specific aftershave lotion that looked really,really nice and perfect for Brad, “Yeah, actually.” she smiles, cheeks flushing, “I think I’ll take something, yes.”

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