#about to be crying through the epilogue goodbye
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baby, i'm high octane (vii)
synopsis: over the course of the last month of the documentary, nora makes some decisions.
pairings: jake seresin x nora rogers (oc)
warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni, all of the usual warnings, swearing, existential dread, spoilers for ocean's eleven lol, smut (like a little bit, oral sex, allusions to sex) (wc: 12.7K)
note: y'all, it's been so long, i'm so sorry 😭 but i hope the ridiculously long chapter makes up for the wait. last chapter before the epilogue woo!
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TAGS: @theharddeck @mamachasesmayhem @bradshawsbitch @hangmanbrainrot @startrekfangirl2233 @kandierteveilchen @lostinwonderland314 @hangmanscoming @t-nd-rfoot @sometimesanalice @dempy @mlibbydp @bellaireland1981 @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989 @averagereader35 @eli2447 @filmflux @bethbunnyy @callsignspark @kajjaka @roosterbruiser @djs8891
Nora spends the whole weekend with Jake.
She doesn’t plan to spend the whole weekend with him. It’s one of those things that just kind of happens, like getting caught up in a good book and realizing it’s been hours and you haven’t moved an inch.
It’s not something she does. It’s more what she doesn’t do.
She doesn’t kick him out on Thursday night as soon as Jake has his pants on, doesn’t push him barefoot in the direction of the door with a Thanks for the sex, come back anytime.
She doesn’t make up a half-hearted excuse, some reason that she needs to be up early in the morning to keep him from sleeping over.
It’s so simple, really.
She never asks him to leave, and so, Jake stays.
On Friday morning, Jake brings her coffee in bed.
She is still half-asleep, sheets all bunched up under her chin, hair fanned messily across the sun-warmed pillows, cheeks flushed. A wide cat-like yawn escapes her as Nora stretches her arms above her head and reaches for the coffee with a slightly hoarse thank you.
Holding the mug in one hand, she rubs the harsh sting of sunshine from her eyes, knuckles creating starbursts on her eyelids, while Jake sprawls across the bed.
He is shirtless, a gold shimmer of chest hair running down his abdomen and disappearing under the black waistband of his boxer shorts. A ripple passes over his ab muscles as Jake stretches out and gets comfortable, searching for her leg through the crumpled pile of sheets.
He strokes a comforting pattern across her calf, across the curve of her knee, and back down again, propped on his elbow to watch her face.
“How’d I do?” Jake asks, nodding to the coffee. His voice is a low murmur, soft as the blueish morning light that filters in between the sheer curtains.
Holding his gaze, Nora raises the mug to her lips and takes a long, luxurious sip.
She almost sighs out loud. It’s perfect.
A half-faded conversation from last night pulls at the edge of her mind, muddled by drowsiness and sleep, like a dream.
She was half-awake, already caught in the deep tide of sleep, almost pulled under from the head rush that washed over her in the late hours of the night after Jake kissed damn near every inch of her and got back in line for seconds. A fuzziness in her fingertips, like Nora was taking her first dizzied steps off of the Tilt-A-Whirl at Pacific Park on the Santa Monica Pier, finding her sea legs in the closeness of him; a kind of gravity in the warmth of his chest, pressed against her bare back.
He wrung another orgasm from her minutes before, and in the afterglow, Nora melted into him like warmed butter, letting out a satisfied hum in the darkness.
Lips warm on her shoulder, Jake asked, “How d’you like your coffee?”
Her lids were so heavy, and Nora let her eyes close.
“Hm,” Nora hummed. “Guess.”
He chuckled, and Nora’s lips curved at the sound, at the warm puff of breath on her nape.
“Can’t ever make it easy on me, can you, Hollywood?”
“Oh,” Nora yawned out. “Not a chance.”
Jake shifted behind her, closer, and Nora sank further into the warm embrace of his muscular arms around her, so secure and solid. Comforting. Her own personal space heater in the form of a hot Naval aviator.
Who would’ve thought a man called Hangman would be such a cuddle?
And more, who would’ve thought she’d like it so much?
His fingers tangled with hers as Jake seemed to consider his next words, his guess.
“‘Course not. Let’s see. It’s….” Jake’s lips found the hollow beneath her ear, and Nora breathed a shallow gasp. “What? Oat milk and vanilla?”
All of the sudden, Nora felt very awake.
Her eyes flew open, and Nora startled, but Jake was too octopus-like around her for her to crane her neck around and look at him.
“Wow,” Nora said, her raised brows audible in her voice. “Tracking me, Lieutenant?”
“I’m observant.” Jake shifted again. “It’s part of what makes me a great pilot, sweetheart.”
And was that a hint of self-consciousness in his sleep-slurred voice? Underneath all of that self-assured confidence and bottomless bravado?
She kind of wanted to see if Jake was blushing.
His fingers flexed around hers, and Nora lightly squeezed his hand.
He squeezed back. Kissed the now-familiar curve of her shoulder and said, “Also, you drink the same thing every day. I’d have a hard time not noticing.”
“Yeah?” Nora smiled. “You must spend a lot of time looking at me.”
“Ever since I saw you, I haven’t wanted to look away.”
There in the dark, Jake’s words sounded like a confession, so open, so sincere.
She drifted off to sleep in his arms, a smile on her face, a pleasant and gnawing ache in her chest.
Now, vanilla and sugar on her tongue, Nora says, “Not bad, Lieutenant.”
Another sip. Another blissful half-sigh.
“It’s actually so good,” Nora concedes. “It’s perfect.”
A smile pulls at the edge of his mouth, and Jake replies, softly, “Good.”
A quick kiss glances against the side of her knee, and Jake sits up and brushes her hair from her pink cheeks.
She is flushed from sleep; warm from the sun and him.
He’s sitting so close; looking at her with such open adoration that she feels like she’s burning.
“You’re staring,” Jake drawls with a slow smirk. You have a staring problem. His voice is like the low rumble of a distant summer storm and slightly hoarse, and Nora wants to wrap herself in it like a blanket and sleep the rest of the day away.
Instead, Nora carefully sets the coffee on the nightstand and cupping his face between her hands, kisses him.
For once, she catches him off guard.
A deep, surprised sound punches out of him – half exhale, half groan.
She loops her arms around his strong neck, pulling him in, needing to be closer to him. Her fingers brush over the shorter hairs at his nape, curl in the longer strands, damp from where Jake must’ve showered before Nora woke. Dark gold, like a bottle of maple syrup in the sunlight.
Catching on, Jake bends a hand around the back of her neck and rolls her underneath him on the mattress, following her down, his mouth on hers the whole way down. He swipes his tongue across her bottom lip and into her mouth, and Nora opens for him with a sigh.
It’s slow and natural.
Would it always be like this? So easy? she wonders as Jake slides his hand up her side, fingers fanning across her ribcage and higher. Would it be as easy as falling asleep in his arms and waking up to the rich smell of coffee in the morning and kissing slowly like both of them know there will be other kisses, other mornings?
His hand cuts across her abdomen, and Jake covers her breast with his palm, and Nora lets the thought go, like the end of a balloon string, and arches into him.
There are suddenly too many layers between them.
And impatient, Nora kicks the sheets away and, hooking her leg around his hip, pushes his boxers down and frees his cock. He groans against her mouth, a sweet and rough sound, a reverent sound.
One hand comes down to hold her against him, rough palm sliding across the back of her thigh and up and up, and Nora shudders against him as Jake runs his fingers through the wetness that’s building between her legs.
He still has his other hand on the back of her neck, pad of his thumb swiping across her thrumming pulse, and hell, Nora almost wants to reach up and pull his hand around, urge him to spread those broad fingers across her collarbone, across her throat and –
Another time.
She breaks the kiss and breathes, “Turn over,” against his mouth.
And Jake – damn him – does this thing with his fingers that makes her brain go blank for a solid five seconds. Like Nora’s been put on airplane mode.
A grin dimples his cheeks as Jake looks down at her, lids low, lips parted just enough to show his teeth. “Now, isn’t that my line, sweetheart?”
She bites down on her bottom lip, holding back something halfway between a laugh and a moan. “Just… get on your back.”
It’s actually obscene how effortlessly Jake flips them.
He reaches for her again, moving to pull her forward and settle between her open legs, hand around his hard cock, but Nora plants her hands on his stupidly broad shoulders and pushes him back down.
He could so easily resist her, but Jake lets her lead.
He looks up at her from the pillows with a familiar gleam in his eyes. “What’re you up to, sweetheart?”
“You know…” Nora murmurs against his neck. “I had something I wanted to do last night.”
She kisses down his neck, across his shoulders – his beautiful shoulders – and down the center of his chest, memorizing the golden skin and hard muscle in the blue morning. He really is so goddamn handsome.
His gaze is molten, melted gemstones. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She moves down his abdomen, admiring the way Jake’s muscles shudder under the soft press of her lips. She notices Jake is holding his breath, and Nora smirks. Good. She wants him a little uneven.
She looks up at him from under her lashes. “You wouldn’t let me suck your cock.”
“I was being a gentleman,” Jake argues.
“Well, in that case, allow me to thank you.”
Nora runs her hand over his cock, stroking him once, twice, and puts her mouth around him, and Jake makes a choked sound, breathing in sudden and sharp, a fragile sound that quickly fades into a broken groan.
“Christ, Nora…” Jake groans, reaching down, his large hand settling on the back of her head, like Jake needs something to ground himself, fingers threading through her hair.
She hums around him in response, and Jake lets out a breathless, “Fuck,” that’s as flattering as a compliment.
It’s all moans and groans and soft breaths and Nora sweetheart Nora Jesus Christ until Nora looks up at him and murmurs coyly, “Come for me, cowboy,” and half a breath later, Jake finishes in her mouth.
She swallows with a smug grin, and Jake swears again, his cheeks darkening.
He drapes an arm over his face and lets out a string of breathless swears that make Nora laugh.
“Are you okay?” Nora asks, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She stretches out next to him as Jake catches his breath.
“I think I might be dead,” Jake mumbles from under his arm, voice muffled, “but good news, I’m definitely in heaven.” He lifts his arm slightly and looks at her sidelong, slanted green eyes full of suggestion. “You wanna be my plus one?”
Her laugh splits into a gasp as Jake slips a hand between her legs.
The coffee is cold when Nora reaches for it again, finding her breath between sips, resting her head on his flushed, sweat-misted chest, but she can’t bring herself to care. She drinks every single drop.
Saturday comes in a blink, and Nora drags Jake to the farmers market in Little Italy.
Or rather, Nora gets dressed in the morning, trading his oversized button-down for a white shirt and a pair of overall shorts, and starts saying, “So I’m thinking about going to the farmers market if you want…” and Jake immediately grabs his keys, a horseshoe shaped bottle opener dangling from the keychain.
She loves to visit the local markets of new cities as a way to get to know them.
In San Diego, Nora has made a habit of going to the Little Italy Mercato every other weekend to stock up on fresh produce and browse the local art that’s for sale, a whole spread of gorgeous art prints, ceramics, and glassware.
A few weeks back, Nora found a handmade pitcher the color of blue bottle-glass and started filling it with fresh farm-grown flowers ever since. A bright spot of color on her bedroom sill.
It should feel weird that Jake’s there – stepping into this Saturday morning ritual that’s only ever been hers – but it’s actually nice, really nice.
He holds her hand as Nora walks around the street, wandering an aimless zig-zag between the stands, doubling back for the ones that catch her eye.
Her reusable bag grows heavier on her shoulder, slowly filling with fresh fruits and vegetables and even, a heart-shaped bottle of raspberry wine from a Temecula winery, and Nora’s shoulder begins to ache. She moves the bag to her hand and rolls out the minor discomfort in the muscle.
While Nora is distracted at the flower stand, Jake pulls the bag from her loose fingers and swings it over his opposite shoulder and links their hands again.
At first, Nora doesn’t even notice. She is busy sliding her credit card back into her wallet and clicking the no-receipt button on the iPad screen, but the older woman who is wrapping the flowers for her doesn’t miss a thing. She makes enough fuss for the both of them.
“What a nice young man.”
Nora almost snorts. She really wants to laugh, but doesn’t want to accidentally offend the nice woman who has no idea of the effect those words will have on the man behind her. Jake nudges Nora’s hip, biting back a grin, and collects the expertly-wrapped bouquet from the vendor.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Jake drawls with a dimpled smile so sugar-sweet that Nora could spoon it into a bottle and use it to sweeten her coffee in the morning. Asshole.
She looks at him sideways, and Jake is already looking at her, a victorious lift to his mouth, like You see? See the sweet old lady who thinks I’m nice?
As Nora wades back into the crowd, a little flushed, Jake leans down and says, “Hear that? I’m a nice young man,” right against her ear.
Now, Nora does laugh.
“Debatable,” she says.
He laughs. His breath is warm on the side of her neck, and Nora feels his lips brush against her skin, against her hair, for the briefest moment. Shorter even, barely even a blink.
It’s a cloudless morning, but Nora holds back a shiver.
I could kiss him, she absently realizes. She wouldn’t have to do anything more than turn her head, maybe raise her chin, and she would be kissing him. She can just do that now.
She slows at the realization, but Jake is smiling, sun-bright, and asks, “You hungry?”
She feels warm in a way that has nothing to do with the summer breeze, the late morning sun on her freckling shoulders and cheeks. She basks in the feeling, in the buzz of a beautiful Saturday morning that’s brought half of San Diego out into the sunshine.
Her stomach grumbles, and Nora nods.
“Come on, I know just the place,” Jake says.
His hand slips out of hers to find the small of her back as Jake leads her out of the crowd.
Back on Coronado Island, Jake drives along Orange Ave for a while before pulling into the parking lot of a cute diner called Starboard Side.
This must be the place Jake mentioned on the Fourth, Nora realizes, where he wanted to take her on a date.
She is smiling to herself when Jake opens the blue door for her.
It’s the very definition of charming. Sun-soaked and eclectic with deep blue wallpaper on one end of the diner – covered in a nautical pattern of anchors, ships, and ocean waves – and wood paneling on the other, painted a bright sunflower yellow.
She steps around a cluster of people who are waiting around the made-to-order coffee counter, either waiting for their order or waiting for one of the blue stools along the counter to be available, and Jake leads her to a booth in the corner.
“This is the best booth in here. It’s got the best window,” Jake says firmly and also in a way that makes her feel like he is waiting for her to agree with him, like a puppy waiting to be patted on the head. Like Jake picked out the best booth in the diner to impress her.
It’s equal parts endearing and ridiculous, which somehow makes it all the more endearing.
Smiling, Nora slides in across from him, the sun-bleached vinyl under her legs warm against her bare skin. “It’s beautiful. Do you come here a lot?”
“I’ve been coming here for years,” Jake answers, “since I was first at Top Gun. It’s the perfect amount of miles from the base for a morning run so I’d run here and back and carb load in between. Do you like pancakes or waffles?”
“Who do you think I am? Pancakes, of course,” Nora says, and Jake’s smile crinkles the corners of his eyes.
“They’ve got really good pancakes.”
He slides a laminated menu across the checkered table and points to one of the dishes in the Starboard Combos section, and as Nora follows along with his recommendation, walking her through his go-to orders, her hair slips into her face.
It’s been everywhere all morning, a little wild from the warmth of the day, a little windswept from the sea salt breeze coming off the ocean, frizzing and curling around her shoulders. She almost got fed up and braided it on the drive here, but all morning, Jake has been playing with the loose strands of blonde hair, absentmindedly reaching over and running it between his fingers on the Coronado Bridge, brushing it back from her face in the market check-out line when Nora’s hands were too full to do it herself.
He’d been doing it in bed too, curling a strand around his finger and complimenting the smell of her shampoo.
Every easy and casual touch sends a little thrill dancing through her stomach so Nora left it down.
She sweeps it over her shoulder and studies the menu.
A smiling waitress comes by to grab their orders and flits over to collect a stack of dirty dishes from the next table over, a spiral notepad tucked into the band of her brightly colored apron. She returns a few minutes later to set down their coffees and is gone again.
It’s just them now. Just them again.
She stirs the coffee with a metal spoon, oversized ice cubes clinking gently against the sides of the wide-mouth jar. She licks the sugar from the spoon and sets it back down on a paper napkin and watches him.
He rests his cheek on his open palm, curving his other hand around the chipped handle of the baby blue diner mug and watches her back.
He ordered his coffee with cream and sugar and his eggs sunny side up, and Nora snatches up those little shining details like a magpie. She adds them to the picture of him in her mind.
He likes his coffee a little sweet. He likes pancakes. He likes her.
A golden beam of sunlight slants through the large window at their side, the best window in the whole diner. It’s almost noon, and in the afternoon light, Jake looks relaxed and thoughtful, edges softened, all dimples and laugh lines.
She notices a small hole in the collar of his shirt – barely even noticeable – and Nora latches onto that small imperfection like a lifeline, proof that Jake isn’t something Nora dreamed up. He’s real, heart-achingly so.
“So…” Nora says.
“So…” Jake echoes.
So…
So, what does this mean?
So, what do people talk about on first dates that feel like fifth, sixth, seventh dates?
So so so.
“So,” Nora says again. A complete sentence. She rests her chin on her interlaced fingers, mimicking his posture, half leaned forward, shoulders relaxed. “I have a question for you, Texas.”
His lips quirk. “Yeah? What kind of question?”
She dips her chin, lips pursed against a smile. “A very important one.”
A dimple springs up in his cheek as Jake drawls, “Hit me, Hollywood,” in a voice full of Texas.
“What is…” Nora reaches for her coffee. Draws out the suspense. “…your favorite movie?”
The corner of his mouth kicks up, and Nora narrows her eyes.
“Careful now. There are wrong answers here.”
“I’m not worried, sweetheart,” Jake replies with a casual sip of coffee, sprawling posture matching his words. “That’s an easy one. It’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Robert Redford and Paul Newman. Got anything harder for me?”
Asshole, Nora thinks with affection.
A cowboy movie for a cowboy. Of course.
And Nora lets out an approving, “Good movie,” instead of damn.
Because maybe, just maybe if Jake had god awful taste in movies – like, I respect you less as a person now bad – Nora could pour sand over the sparks that kick to life in her chest whenever Jake’s arm so much as brushes against hers. Damn damn damn.
And Jake’s smile is a little smug, a little knowing. “You like that I like good movies, don’t you? It kinda turns you on.”
“I’m not answering that,” Nora says, which might as well be an answer, and Jake’s grin sharpens.
She pointedly ignores him, cheeks warm, and sips her coffee. “Is there a story there? Or are you really that much of a cowboy?”
He makes a noncommittal sound, not ignoring the question, not answering either.
This is a date, not an interview, Nora reminds herself. She doesn’t push.
He brings the mug to his lips and asks, “What about you? What’s yours?”
“Oh, I – ” Nora makes a face. “I don’t know if I have one.”
Shaking his head, Jake shoots her a disbelieving look. “You’re not getting out of this one, Hollywood, not a chance. You have to have one.”
Nora laughs. “I don’t know. It’s all just so subjective. I like a lot of movies for a lot of different reasons.” She gestures to him. “I mean, don’t you? Doesn’t everyone?”
“Sure,” Jake says slowly, “but you must have a favorite.”
“That’s what I’m saying. A movie can be a favorite for any number of reasons, like, if you see a movie at the exact right time or maybe, with the exact right person or both, and it’s almost like the movie found you and not the other way around.”
A half-smile forms on his face as Jake listens to her.
“It’s hard to pick one favorite. How do you compare that – that raw emotional experience – with a movie that’s objectively very good from a craft perspective?”
“You tell me, sweetheart,” and Jake chuckles when Nora gives him a look. “Alright, what about two movies?”
“Two?”
“Yeah.” He holds up two fingers. “Pick two favorites.”
Two favorites. She can probably do two.
Thinking for a moment, Nora says, “When Harry Met Sally. One, because it’s amazing movie and the best rom-com of our time, obviously.”
She waits expectantly until Jake echoes, obviously, with a smile.
“Two, because I watched it in high school with my mom. I was supposed to go to this pool party that a girl in my grade was throwing for her birthday, but I got super sick, and I was so upset. It was like, all I’d been looking forward to that week. My mom canceled her plans and stayed in with me.” She smiles at the memory. “We spent the whole night on the couch, eating pizza and watching a Meg Ryan marathon on cable. It’s been a favorite of mine ever since.”
Gaze warm, Jake absorbs this with a nod. “What’s your second favorite?”
“Ocean’s Eleven,” Nora answers without hesitation. “I was obsessed with George Clooney when I was a kid. I once wrote him a letter and asked him to be my step-dad. He never got back to me, unfortunately.”
His laugh lights up his whole face. “God, of course you did. How’d your mom feel about that?”
“She would’ve gotten on board. It’s George Clooney,” Nora says simply, like it’s obvious.
His foot brushes against hers underneath the table, his ankle slotting into the space between hers, and something about it feels so intimate that Nora almost shivers.
After a moment, Jake offers, “I saw Butch and Sundance with my dad.”
An answer to a question Nora didn’t ask out loud.
Surprised, Nora pauses. “Your dad?”
A nod as Jake runs his hand over his nape. “Austin had this retro movie theater that used to play old movies on Saturday and Sunday mornings for real cheap, like five bucks, maybe even less back then. My football practice got rained out one weekend, and for once, my dad wasn’t working so we went to see Butch and Sundance. It’s probably the best afternoon I ever had with him.” A fraction of the seriousness washes from his face as Jake winks and adds, “And I’m that much of a cowboy, sweetheart. You should see my Stetson collection back home.”
A charmed smile pulls at her mouth, and Nora chooses her words carefully. “You’ve never mentioned your dad before.”
One of his shoulders rises and falls. “We’re not close. He was kind of an asshole even then, always on me about every little mistake I’d make during games, every A-minus that should’ve been an A. He only got meaner as I got older.” He sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “My parents split up when I was in high school. He was a real dick to my mom during the divorce, so I don’t see him unless I have to now.”
“My dad’s an asshole too,” Nora says. “George Clooney would’ve been much better.”
Jake laughs, and Nora smiles, kind of proud of herself.
The waitress comes back with their food, and Nora slides the plate of blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs in front of her. She carefully unrolls her knife and fork and sets the napkin across her lap. She doesn’t want any crushed blueberry stains on these overalls.
An unladylike sound almost escapes her mouth at her first bite, and Nora closes her mouth around the sound.
“You were right about the pancakes.”
“Of course I was.”
Nora rolls her eyes, and Jake chuckles.
Washing it down with a sip of coffee, Nora says, “You never told me your second favorite movie.”
Jake breaks off a piece of whole-wheat toast and dips it in yellow egg yolk. He pops it in his mouth and grinning around the bite, replies, “You already know my second favorite.”
“I do?” She sets her fork down, already sticky with maple syrup.
He nods, not giving her any hints, waiting for her to catch up with him, to keep up.
She wracks her brain for any movie Nora had ever heard Jake mention. She can’t think of a single one. She's about to fold her cards and ask him to tell her until –
“Oh my god. You’re full of shit.”
“I’m not,” Jake says, amused.
She stares at him, mouth open slightly. “You can’t be serious. Your favorite movies are Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, one of the best Westerns of all time, which has been preserved by the Library of Congress for being culturally significant, and – ”
“How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” Jake finishes with a grin. He cocks his head. “What can I say? I love McConaughey.”
His smile splits wide open when Nora bursts out laughing.
After, when Nora is leaving the diner, full of good food, Jake walks ahead of her to check the parking meter, and watching him, Nora has the most disorienting urge to walk over and wrap her arms around him. Press her cheek into the wrinkle of soft heather gray fabric between his shoulder blades. Inhale the smell of his cologne like Nora’s done it a million times before.
This is new, Nora reminds herself. It’s so new.
Except when Jake glances over his shoulder and looks for her, green eyes darting down to run over her bare legs, and smiles, wide and affectionate like he didn’t just spend almost two hours across from her, like he could spend all day looking at her and never get sick of it; nothing about it feels new.
It feels like Nora’s already waist deep, right in the middle of something vast and all-consuming, something bottomless.
And when Jake extends a hand behind him, reaching for her, eyes as green as dew-covered grass, Nora steps into the daylight and links her fingers with his, filling in the gaps, somehow it’s the most natural thing in the whole world.
Two more weeks pass, and Nora’s with Jake more than she’s not.
He sleeps over so often that Nora clears a spot on the bathroom counter for him to leave a spare toothbrush, and likewise, Jake starts to keep her favorite brands of cold brew and creamer in his fridge.
Coffee in bed becomes something of a weekend routine.
Once, in his apartment, Jake brings her coffee in a Lone Star State mug, which looks like one of those souvenir mugs you might find in an airport. It’s covered in a patchwork of orange and light blue doodles: a cowboy hat, a horse, a Sheriff’s star.
“Beth bought it for me when I left for my first deployment,” Jake explains when Nora asks him about the mug, running her fingers over the delicate outlines. “So I’d have something to remind me of home.”
They go on a second date. A third. A fourth.
He finds a dine-in movie theater in La Jolla that’s doing a 90’s Rom Com series all summer and takes her to a 35mm showing of Clueless, listening attentively as Nora explains the difference between digital and film projection in excruciating detail on the drive there, a smile on his face.
On the mornings that Jake doesn’t stay the night, Nora orders an extra coffee – with cream and sugar – from her favorite coffee shops and meets him on the base a half hour earlier than the rest of the Daggers. She kisses him in the quiet of the Ready Room until 8:00 AM rolls around.
It’s all meaningful looks and stolen kisses; late night drives with the windows down, the wind in her hair, his hand on her thigh; rolls of film, not yet developed. It’s something for them, something good.
They keep it under the radar in front of the Daggers.
She’s not worried about them finding out, but Captain Mitchell is an extension of the Daggers, and Nora would really like to keep Aunt Charlie’s ex-boyfriend in the dark about her sex life for as long as possible. Forever, even.
Also, she still has a month left in her contract, and while she’s pretty sure the Naval magazine wouldn’t fire her for sleeping with one of the film subjects in a documentary like this one, she’s not so sure that she wants to put it to the test.
So, for now, under the radar it is.
After the Fourth of July, Javy officially gets his orders to report to Maverick's squadron. He goes back to Lemoore to wrap up some loose ends with his old C.O., and Jake meets him there the next weekend to drive a U-Haul back down.
And Nora emails the magazine and lets them know that the documentary will have one more Dagger.
Nora has more than enough time to weave him into the narrative of the film, and anyway, Javy is an official member of the squadron now. He is as much part of the story of the squadron as the other Daggers.
Plus, Nora hasn’t forgotten how excited Javy was about the film. It’ll be seamless, her version of rolling out the red carpet for him.
On his second day, Nora pulls him aside between drills and sits him down in front of the camera.
It’s a good interview, which doesn’t surprise her in the slightest. He’s a lot like Jake in that way, effortlessly funny and charismatic with a glowing movie star smile. Her cheeks hurt from smiling by the end of the interview, completely and thoroughly charmed.
After, Nora walks back to the Ready Room with him, and Javy asks, “How was that?”
“Super good,” she tells him. He holds the door open for her, like a gentleman, and with a smile, Nora crosses the threshold ahead of him, looking at him over her shoulder. “No, but really, it was great. You’re a natural.”
On the couch, Jake grumbles, “I thought I was a natural,” and Nora swats at him on her way past.
Everyone gathers at the Jake’s apartment later that night to eat some pizza and watch a movie.
Nora is curled up on the opposite end of the couch as Jake with an unsuspecting Bob between them. At one point, Jake looks around the room and stretches his arm casually over the back of the couch, and Nora feels him fiddling with the end of her braid.
She hides her smile in her next sip of white wine.
She is peacefully watching the movie, drinking the wine and sharing a bowl of extra-butter popcorn with Bob when Natasha comes back from the bathroom and plops down on the carpet again with a smirk on her face.
“Hangman.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s nice of you to host and all, but next time, if you’re going to leave your bedroom door open, can you tell your girlfriend not to leave her underwear on the floor?”
Nora chokes.
A popcorn kernel shoots into her airway, and Nora coughs into her wine.
Jake subtly drops his arm behind the couch, letting go of her hair.
Looking down at Natasha, Jake raises his brows, like oh, who, me?, and smiles a familiar cat-like smile, unbothered and calm. “Sure, Phoenix. I’ll pass along the message.”
It’s immediately obvious that Natasha expected him to say anything but that.
She gapes at him, and meanwhile, Nora wishes it was possible to elbow Jake through Bob.
She curls further into the armrest and swallows a mouthful of wine that’s almost too much, wine dribbling out of the side of her mouth and onto her shirt.
What happened to under the radar?
And when did Nora leave his apartment without her underwear?
Is she wearing underwear now?
She pats her hip under the guise of smoothing out a wrinkle in her sweat shorts. All clear.
Natasha spends the last 30 minutes of Ocean’s Eleven grilling him – and when Jake smiles that infuriating plastic smile and doesn’t reveal anything, pivoting to Javy – about whether Jake does, in fact, have a girlfriend while Nora pretends to be engrossed in the movie and not eavesdropping.
“Wow, so Danny gets the money and the girl in the end. Good for him,” Nora says.
Bob gives her an odd look. “Haven’t you seen this movie before?”
She reaches for her wine again as a diversion, only to find the glass empty. Goddammit.
When Natasha is still in interrogation mode during the credits, Nora gathers the plates from the living room and escapes to the kitchen, hoping to hide in there until Natasha has even given up or gotten bored.
And knowing her, the latter is far more likely than the former.
Her peace ends about 30 seconds later when Bradley follows her.
He leans against the counter and unrolls the bag of cheese balls that Nora just clipped shut. Tosses one into his mouth. He grins at her knowingly, and Nora narrows her eyes at him in warning.
Don’t say a damn word.
Still, Bradley observes, “You followed my advice, Rogers.”
He’s not loud, but Bradley’s not exactly quiet by nature.
She sends a nervous glance into the other room and hisses, “We’re not doing this right now.”
She dumps the crumbs and uneaten pizza crusts into the garbage and stacks the dishes next to the sink. Turns on the sink to give them a little more privacy because if Nora knows him, Bradley has never left well enough alone in his life.
“Fine.” He knocks back a handful of cheese balls like a shot of vodka and dusts his hands off in a shower of orange crumbs. Nora looks between him and the roll of paper towels at his elbow with a scrunched brow. He doesn’t seem to notice and barrels on, “But listen, as a friend, can I ask you for something?”
“What?” Nora deadpans.
“Can I have like a 10 minute warning before you tell Hangman we slept together? I’d like to protect the goods.”
He gestures to his face, but Nora has a feeling Bradley also wants to protect something else.
She stifles a laugh. “He’s not gonna punch you for something that happened five years ago.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Except I do know that because I already told him.” She points to the counter behind him. “Can you hand me that bowl?”
He pauses mid-crunch and doesn’t move. “You told him?”
She sighs and reaches around him for the chip bowl herself. “Yes, Bradshaw, I told him.”
“And Hangman didn’t punch me?”
“Guess not.”
“I feel like I should be offended.”
She stares at him, incredulous. “Did you want him to punch you?”
“That’s not the point, Nora,” Bradley says, exasperated, like Nora is the one who’s being ridiculous here. “I can’t believe you told him without telling me. How’d he take it?”
“He didn’t care,” Nora says. She squirts dish soap onto a sponge and scrubs the potato chip grease from the bowl. “He actually thought it was funny.”
She suspected that Javy might’ve said something to his best friend about their conversation at the roller rink, and Nora didn’t want any lingering suspicions to turn into something bigger than the truth, something that might affect Jake or Bradley in their already high-risk jobs.
So Nora told him.
He seemed surprised at first.
And then, Jake laughed.
He laughed so hard that Nora hit him with a pillow to get him to stop.
“You and Bradshaw?” Jake chuckled. “You’re so out of his league, sweetheart. Jesus.”
“We were both drunk, okay?” Nora exclaimed. She felt a certain amount of protectiveness over her 24-year-old self and her weakness for men with big arms and sad eyes. Really, who could blame her? “He was older and hot and sad and – Would you stop laughing at me?”
“Funny,” Bradley repeats flatly.
Her lips twitch. “He asked if I’d always been passionate about volunteering with the elderly.”
A cheese ball rolls down his chest and under the fridge, and Nora bites the inside of her cheek.
Bradley purses his lips. “Now I feel like I should punch him.”
Eventually, Natasha decides that Jake must be messing with her – “Hangman couldn’t possibly be dating someone. He can never shut up. We’d all know about her.” – and Nora manages to make it out of the night unscathed with the rest of the Daggers none-the-wiser.
(Except Javy, who gives her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder on his way out.)
A week later, Nora is working late in the Ready Room.
She is leaning on her elbow with god-awful computer posture – one knee pulled up on the chair, a mist of sweat on her brow from the heat – and Jake pops in to the room to let her know that the Daggers are headed to the Hard Deck for an after-work drink.
“You gonna be much longer?” Jake asks. “Want me to wait for you?”
He sets his chin on her shoulder, watching her fingers move across the keyboard, kissing a spot underneath her ear that usually makes her brain go back, usually makes her sigh and melt into him, but Nora stays strong.
It’s just this one last thing.
She blows out a grounding several-seconds-long breath to keep herself focused.
“I’m almost done,” Nora replies evenly, impressively evenly, actually, “so don’t distract me.”
His lips pull into a grin against the side of her neck.
For his part, Jake doesn’t say anything else. He gives her space, leaning against the window, and watches her in silence.
She saves one last file, and once the external hard drive is properly ejected, Nora slams the laptop shut. She spins around to look at him, her elbows on the back of the chair, and Jake has his arms folded across his chest, looking effortless and handsome and effortlessly handsome in his black shirt.
Her lip catches between her teeth.
“Hi,” Nora breathes.
Expression soft, Jake says back, “Hi, sweetheart.”
“How was your day? Good?”
He nods. “You?”
She does the same, a dip of her chin.
Evening sun pierces through the open blinds, drenching the room in a copper hue and making it at least five degrees warmer, if not more, and Nora looks him over in the glow. Drinks him in like an Old Fashioned. Her favorite drink.
They’ve been talking a lot about those lately. Favorites.
Favorite movie. Favorite song. Favorite time of day.
When Harry Met Sally. Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac. That moment right before sunset when the whole sky and ocean turns pink.
She’s starting to realize Jake might be one of her favorites too.
She motions him closer, crooking her finger, and Jake bends indulgently, eyes bright.
She reaches for him. Coasts her palm along the slope of his chin, the cut-glass curve of his cheek, the prickle of stubble on his strong jawline.
She kisses him on the cheek and rests her lips there. Mumbles against his skin, “You could use a shave, cowboy.”
She feels him smile, feels the muscles in his face stretching and working.
“You don’t like the stubble, sweetheart?”
Nora actually does like the stubble. He looks a little more rugged, a little more like a cowboy. She can imagine him on a ranch in Texas, a sunburn on his broad shoulders, riding horses in his real-leather cowboy boots and his real-denim jeans, tipping his Stetson at her with a wink and a broad grin on his ride. She might like it a little too much.
“Well,” Nora drawls, “I didn’t say that.”
As Nora pulls back with a grin of her own, Jake catches her chin between his index and thumb and kisses her.
It’s such a good kiss that for a moment, Nora lets herself forget everything else.
She lets herself forget their surroundings; let herself forget the afternoon she spent making a list of gaps in the footage because she has less than fourteen days to fill them in, less than fourteen days left here.
She lets herself forget the rising number of unanswered emails in her inbox and her one-way plane ticket back to New York at the end of the month.
She lets herself forget anything that isn’t Jake’s hands on her hips, urging her to her feet and pushing her back against the table, hands sneaking under the hem of her shirt, and Nora’s hands in his hair, tousled from the wind and a little damp from his post-flight shower, smelling like soap and jet fuel.
She loses herself in him, in this.
A door creaks open, and she doesn’t even notice.
“Are you still here, Nora? Phoenix wanted me to ask if…”
All of the air rushes out of Bob mid-sentence.
He makes a noise like a punctured balloon – a kind of stunned Oh! sound – and quickly shuts the door again.
Nora breaks away from the kiss, but Bob’s long gone now, picture frames rattling in his wake.
“Oh… Oh my god.” Nora puts her hands over her face and lets out a panicked laugh into her palms. “What are the odds I could ask him not to tell anyone?”
“Slim to none,” Jake replies helpfully. “He’s probably already told Phoenix by now.”
“No way. It’s been like 30 seconds. How….” She grabs her phone, and not four seconds later, an incoming call from Natasha pops up on the screen. She presses decline with a startled sound and drops her phone back on the desk, like it’s a snake that bit her.
What the hell? Are Bob and Natasha telepathically linked?
Jake laughs. He looks far too smug for Nora’s liking.
She squints up at him. “And what exactly are you smiling about? I could get fired.”
She’s not really going to get fired, but she is feeling dramatic enough to say it anyway.
“You’re not gonna get fired,” Jake fires back without missing a beat. He hooks a finger in her belt loop and pulls her closer. “And I’m smiling because as much as I’ve liked having you all to myself these past few weeks…” A deliberate kiss against the column of her throat as Jake slides his palm up the same path. A breathy sigh. “... I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be happy to not have to sneak around anymore. Now, I’ll be able to kiss you anytime I want.”
“Is that a Sweet Home Alabama refer– oh?”
He cuts her off with another kiss, leg sliding between hers and up, his hand around the front of her throat.
It’s a long while before Nora packs up.
She’s only been at the Hard Deck for a few minutes when Bob comes over, looking sheepish, and apologizes with an Old Fashioned in hand.
“I’m sorry, Nora, I should’ve knocked,” Bob says, his shoulders rounded, contrite. “And I’m sorry I immediately told Phoenix.” A pause, and Bob’s cheeks redden a little. “And Fanboy and Payback and also, Rooster and Coyote, but both of them already knew.”
Nora laughs. “Jesus, Bob, I didn’t realize you were such a gossip.”
His blush deepens. “I’m sorry. I really thought everyone knew but me, but I guess Rooster and Coyote were the only ones.”
“It’s okay. We weren’t being very discreet,” Nora admits. She accepts the Old Fashioned with a forgiving squeeze of his arm. “Is Natasha mad? Like on a scale of 1 to Witness Protection?”
He pulls a face. “I think, more than anything, Phoenix is more mad she wasn’t the first one to figure it out. She’s also pissed Rooster knew and didn’t tell her.”
“I’ll let him take the heat for this one,” Nora says conspiratorially.
Bob smiles. “Probably a smart move.”
She kills the next half-hour and change at the pool table with Jake.
He’s apparently taken not sneaking around anymore to mean have his hands on her at all times. He stands too close and slips a hand into the back pocket of her jeans while Nora is trying to take her turn. Cheater.
Natasha comes over in the middle of a game, nursing a Blue Moon.
She stands at Nora’s side and looks down at the game. “I guess I should’ve known,” she says in the matter-of-fact tone of someone who has processed their surprise. “He’s always staring at you lately. You were either hooking up or in desperate need of a restraining order.”
“Jury’s still out on the restraining order,” Nora replies dryly and smiles when an eavesdropping Jake looks up sharply. He meets her gaze and shakes his head, a smirk hanging from the corner of his mouth.
A wrinkle between her brows, Natasha asks, “Is it pretty casual? Or are you guys like, dating now?”
“No,” Nora answers while at the exact same time, Jake calls, “Yes.”
A swooping feeling fills her stomach.
They haven’t used that word yet. Dating.
Dating has weight. Implications that Nora isn’t prepared to deal with right now.
Like, if they’re dating, what happens when she leaves?
And yet, foolishly, Nora really likes the sound of it.
She wrinkles her nose but doesn’t correct him, and Jake grins, like he’s won something.
Natasha observes this interaction with vague fascination.
“I’ll let you two figure that one out.” Natasha hoists herself onto a barstool, legs dangling, and nods to Jake. “I’ve got the next game with you, Nora. Hangman’s been hogging you over here.”
She and Natasha play a couple of games – first alone and then, against an overconfident pair of ensigns fresh from the Naval academy who wander over to hit on them. They win 40 bucks each off of them and send them packing.
And when Jake wraps his arms around her shoulders from behind, grinning lips pressed against her cheek, Nora spins around and kisses him on the mouth and doesn’t give a damn who sees.
On the last Friday of the month, Nora sends off the last few files and pieces of footage and organizes a wrap party for the documentary.
She loves this part of the filmmaking process – after weeks, months of work, a moment of pause and celebration and achievement. It’s such a singular and special experience to create something from start to finish, and Nora wants the Naval aviators have the chance to share in that moment with her. See what the last eight weeks have been for.
Captain Mitchell ends the day a few hours early and gathers the Naval aviators in the room where Nora first introduced herself to them all of those weeks ago.
A sharp sense of deja vu washes over her as Nora finds herself at the front of the room once again, eight weeks older. She’s not looking out on a group of half-acquaintances, practical strangers, watching her with caution and curiosity. These are her friends. She sees nothing but excitement and anticipation in their eyes.
It’s always a bittersweet feeling, and Nora pushes down the overwhelm that rises in her chest, sticking to the sides of her throat. She swallows hard.
Bradley cups his hands around his mouth and calls, “Speech! Speech! Speech!”
She exhales a laugh, relaxing. “I do have a little speech. More of an introduction, actually.” She links her fingers and holds them in front of her stomach to give herself something to do with her hands. “Making something like this is never easy. It’s almost always disruptive, but I felt so welcome here. You made it feel easy.”
She continues, “I’m only contracted as the filmmaker so I’m not doing the final edit of the film, but I didn’t want to send it off into post-production without showing you something that represents your hard work and dedication. You’ve volunteered a lot of your time to this project. It’s as much your achievement as mine.” She plugs in her laptop and pulls up the video and smiles. “I have a few minutes of footage for you.”
A chorus of whoops and cheers, and Nora presses the play button.
Text appears on the black screen as Nora quietly sits down.
On March 3, 1969, the UNITED STATES NAVY established an elite school for the top one percent of its pilots. Its purpose was to teach the LOST ART OF AERIAL COMBAT and to ensure that the handful of men (and now women) who graduated were the BEST FIGHTER PILOTS IN THE WORLD. They succeeded.
The Navy calls it Fighter Weapons School. You might know it better as TOP GUN.
A video of Captain Mitchell fades in, and Bradley claps loudly and shouts, “Let’s go, Mav!”
Natasha shushes him – and maybe punches him in the shoulder because Bradley lets out a pained groan.
“These men and women,” Captain Mitchell says on the screen. “This squadron. There’s never been a squadron like this one in the history of the Naval aviation.” He fades to voice-over over a rapid-fire reel of in-air footage: Jets cut through the blue skies at impossible speeds, perform incredible high-speed maneuvers, again and again and again. A black screen as Captain Mitchell declares, “These are the best fighter pilots on the planet.”
A small smile dances on Nora’s lips, anticipating.
What follows is a straight-forward but effective pattern.
Each Dagger appears on the screen and says their call sign, and Nora clipped something from their interview – a good anecdote, a particularly memorable quote – with footage of them in the air or b-roll of them on the base.
On the screen, Jake – Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, reads the lower-third – flashes a 1000-watt smile to the side of the camera, and Nora smiles despite herself. He was looking at her. She remembers it so vividly, sitting there, pretending not to be charmed by him, pretending not to want him.
Next to her, Jake leans over and whispers, “You remember when you told me you didn’t like me after this?”
“Shut up,” Nora whispers back, smiling.
He grows closer, lips brushing her ear. “Now, why would I? We both know how much you love to shut me up, sweetheart.”
A rose pink blush spreads across her cheeks, and Jake chuckles.
Behind him, Natasha kicks his chair. “Zip it, Hangman. Stop flirting during my big moment.”
And Natasha’s JUST loud enough that Captain Mitchell hears.
He looks over with a frown. His gaze snags on where Hangman’s arm hangs ever-so-casually over the side of his chair, his pinky finger brushing against the side of Nora’s hand.
Pete Mitchell huffs out an amused exhale and shakes his head and thinks about all of the improbably and impossible ways that history seems to repeat itself. He looks over his shoulder and spots a familiar figure, slipping into the back of the room unnoticed. He nods to them and directs his attention back to the screen.
A short round of applause breaks out at the end of the video, and Nora beams.
She does a little half-bow at Natasha’s insistence.
“Thank you. You can stop now,” Nora laughs. She collects her laptop from the podium and holds it against her chest. “A military base isn’t the best place for a real wrap party, but Penny’s been kind enough to host us at her house tonight so I’ll see you all there, but while I’m here and still on the clock, any last questions?”
A beat of silence.
A familiar voice rings out from the back of the room.
“Can I ask one?”
Shock burns down the length of her spine, a sparked fuse of a stick of dynamite, and Nora straightens.
“What the fuck?” spills out of her mouth. She gapes. “Charlie?”
Standing in front of the red-and-blue Fighter Weapons School emblem, a leather bomber around her shoulders, a pair of aviator sunglasses in her graying curls, Charlie looks like one of her old photo albums come to life. A wide smile stretches across her face, making her look three decades younger.
What? How? And again, what?
“Last I checked,” Charlie says with a smooth smile. She nods to Captain Mitchell. “Maverick.”
“Charlie.” He doesn’t sound surprised. “Good to see you again.”
Nora is mostly definitely surprised. Stunned. “But… Charlie, what’re you doing here?”
Charlie leans against the back wall, arms crossed, effortlessly cool.
“Pete here was kind enough to let me know about the wrap party, and I thought, what the hell? Maybe I should take one of those vacation days the Pentagon is always on me about.” Her expression softens as Charlie takes her in. “It’s good to see you, sweetie.”
Charlie’s here. She’s here.
Nora blinks rapidly.
And promptly bursts into tears.
Half an hour later, Nora is sitting at a high top in a secluded corner of the hotel bar where Charlie is staying.
She orders an Old Fashioned from the waiter, and Charlie orders a glass of Pinot Noir and swirls the maroon wine around in her glass like a seasoned professional. Nora’s never really understood the point of doing that – something about letting the wine breathe – but it does make Charlie look pretty sophisticated.
Then again, with her red lips and her Grace Kelly curls, Charlie always looks pretty sophisticated.
She sips her wine, lipstick un-smudged, and studies Nora over the glass.
Nora prepares herself for the inevitable barrage of questions.
Something along the lines of, So what happened? Did you lose your phone? or maybe, Why did you start crying in the middle of the Naval base like a certified head case? Both of which are fair enough questions.
Bob was the first one to recover from his alarm and procured a packet of Kleenex from one of the pockets of his flight suit. He offered her one with a sympathetic smile, and Nora blew her nose with a grateful nod.
To his credit, Captain Mitchell snapped into action and quickly ushered the rest of the Daggers out of the room.
“Let’s give them some privacy,” Nora heard Captain Mitchell say as Charlie wrapped her in a hug. His voice grew a little sterner, a little harder. “You too, Hangman. Let’s go.”
She opened her wet eyes, and Captain Mitchell had his hand on Jake’s shoulder, but Jake was looking at her, concern plain on his face, his lips downturned.
She gave him a watery smile, and Jake’s shoulders visibly relaxed.
He was still the last one out of the room.
Now, Charlie looks her over and comments brightly, “You’ve got some color in your cheeks. Are you spending a lot of time on the beach?”
She blinks. That’s… not a question Nora was expecting.
“They put me up in an apartment right on the beach, and the Daggers like to go down to North Beach and play volleyball and football, so I hang out with them sometimes.”
“You play football?” Charlie asks, skeptical and amused.
“I read.”
“Ah. Of course. Anything good?”
What is happening right now? “Yeah, sure, I guess.”
“Good.”
Charlie drinks her wine and doesn’t ask anything else.
Nora stares at her. “Charlie?”
“Hm?”
“Aren’t you going to ask?”
“No.”
She almost laughs. “No?”
“No,” Charlie repeats simply. She flags down the waiter and points to the appetizers on the Happy Hour menu. “Excuse me. Could we get an order of the whipped ricotta and then, the truffle parmesan fries? You can charge it to my room. Thanks, hon.”
Nora stares at her aunt like she’s been body snatched, and Charlie sighs.
“Listen,” Charlie starts. “You haven’t called me in weeks so clearly, whatever you’ve got going on is something you’re not ready to share with me right away, and if I know you at all – and I like to think I do – I know I’ll get absolutely nowhere if I push you.” She picks up her glass and swirls it again. “So, we’ll get a couple of drinks and split some appetizers, and when you’re ready, you can tell me what’s going on.”
They do exactly that.
Nora orders a second drink and spreads honey-drizzled ricotta across pieces of baguette and fills Charlie in on the last eight weeks, every minuscule and probably uninteresting detail about the documentary and the squadron. She does, however, gloss over a few crucial details about Jake, as is her right as guaranteed by the Fifth amendment. She’s also not quite sure how to explain it herself.
And eventually, when her drink is down to ice and the bread down to crumbs, Nora tells her aunt what’s going on.
And Charlie listens.
She listens to everything.
Every doubt and fear. Every uncertainty that’s been weighing Nora down for the past year and a half, making her feel like she’s caught in a bear trap, like she can’t move, like she can’t breathe.
Admitting all of these big and all-consuming feelings to Charlie is scary and freeing in equal measures, but in the end, where there was once a pit in her stomach, she feels relief. She feels one breath closer to the surface.
When Nora is done, her mouth is dried out. She chugs half a glass of water.
And almost spits it all back out when Charlie’s first words are: “So why don’t you quit?”
“What?” Nora asks, more of a stunned syllable than a question.
“If you don’t want to do it anymore,” Charlie says plainly, “don’t.”
Her brows are high on her forehead as Nora asks, bewildered, “So what? Give up?”
“I didn’t say give up,” Charlie sighs, and it brings Nora back to her teen years when Charlie would accuse her of being difficult on purpose. “I said quit.”
“They feel like the same thing.”
“They’re not.”
She bites her lip and looks over Charlie’s shoulder and out of the window.
“Isn’t it like…” Nora blows out a breath. “If I quit now, isn’t it like I’m flushing six years of my life down the drain?”
Charlie shrugs. “You still did a lot in those six years. Changing your mind doesn’t take away from any of those accomplishments, but now, maybe it’s time for you to do something else, something you like more. Start over.”
Nora sits back. “You say it like it’s simple. Easy.”
“It might not be easy. It most likely won’t be, but it is that simple, yes.”
Words catch in her throat, and when Nora says it out loud, her voice sounds small. “I’m scared.”
Her aunt’s face softens. She reaches across the table and cups Nora’s hand.
“You’re allowed to be scared. Everyone’s scared.”
She blows out a shaky breath to keep herself from crying again, but a slight crack in her voice gives her away. Damn. “Yeah? When’s the last time you were scared you couldn’t do something?”
God. She regrets the words almost immediately.
She sounds childish, petulant, but right now, Nora feels like the 16-year-old who snuck Charlie’s red lipstick from her make-up pouch and got busted because she accidentally put it back uncapped and ruined the inside of the bag. Or like the 21-year-old who ordered an Old Fashioned for her first legal drink because Charlie used to drink them at home and hated it so much that Nora wouldn’t drink another for four more years.
Like all Nora ever wants to be is someone that Charlie can be proud of.
All of the sudden, Charlie looks very far away. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared than when your mom died. She made being a parent look so easy, and I got to be the cool Aunt Charlie on the sidelines, and then, she was gone, and I was so scared I’d fuck up and undo everything.”
Nora’s eyes burn. “Charlie, I never… You never said anything.”
“Of course not,” Charlie dismisses with a shake of her head, curls bouncing. “You were still a kid. You were grieving. You needed stability, and I knew I had to do my best because sometimes, you’re scared and you do it anyway.”
“Fail with your whole heart,” Nora quotes softly, and Charlie squeezes her hand.
“See I could’ve never come up with something like that, but god, your mom…” Charlie wipes at her eyes with a cloth napkin and smiles. “She was born to be writer. When I got my first interview with the Pentagon, I had less than 24-hours notice. I was living in New York at the time, and I’d need to hop on a train and hope I could find a hotel for the night when I got down there."
"Honestly, I thought about not going, but your mom sat me down and said, ‘Charlotte,’” and Charlie straightens her spine and does her best impression of her sister, “‘You get your bony ass to Grand Central, and I’ll call every damn hotel in DC and find you a room. You got the interview, and now, all you have to do is follow through and take the leap.”
“And you did,” Nora finishes. “You did the interview, got the job, and the rest is history.”
“I did. I followed her advice. I decided that if I was going to fail, I should do it bravely.” Charlie squeezes her hand once more and lets it go. “It’s your turn now, sweetie.”
Nora goes to the bathroom to clean up her mascara and when she comes back, Charlie is signing the check.
She checks her watch. “It’s almost five o’clock. Do you want to head over to Penny’s?”
“Give me one second.” Nora reaches for her purse and pulls out her phone. “I have to call someone back.”
Penny Benjamin lives in a beautiful house in La Jolla that looks like something out of Architectural Digest magazine.
A classic California bungalow with off-white siding and wide blue-trim windows and a garden wrapping around the side, summer green dotted with pinks and yellows and reds; on an elegant cliffside, overlooking the Pacific.
It’s a good half hour from San Diego so when Nora and Charlie arrive, the street is lined with cars.
Last week, Nora asked Admiral Simpson for a full list of everyone who’d been on the base during the making of the documentary and forwarded the names to Penny for the wrap party. When Admiral Simpson asked her why she needed them and she explained – she wanted anyone who’d so much as stood on the tarmac while she’d been filming to be included in the celebration – she could’ve sworn he looked a little impressed.
Still, Nora is surprised to see him in the garden, chatting with Admiral Bates with a beer in his hand, a pretty woman next to him who must be his wife.
“I’m gonna go say hi to Warlock and Cyclone,” Charlie says, patting Nora’s shoulder, and Nora nods and watches her go.
She doesn’t see Penny anywhere so Nora goes into the house and finds her in the kitchen. She gives her a quick hug and hands over a bottle of Prosecco – which Charlie had insisted on stopping for on the drive because Charlie couldn’t possibly show up to her ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend’s house without an expensive bottle of something.
“What am I?” Charlie asked. “Some kind of asshole?
“Oh, Nora,” Penny gasps, hand fluttering over her heart. “This is your party. You didn’t need to bring me something.”
“Oh please. Charlie’s outside. It’s from both of us,” Nora waves her off as Penny admires the bottle. It was the prettiest one in the store. “Thank you so much for doing this by the way. Your house is so beautiful.”
Now, Penny’s the one to wave her off. “No, no, I was happy to do it. We’ll all miss having you around, even Pete. He probably won’t say it himself, but I’ll say it for him.” Nora smiles widely, and Penny shoos her out of the kitchen. “I’ll open this up and bring it out, but you get your butt outside and enjoy the party.”
Obliging, Nora makes her way back outside.
A makeshift bar is in the middle of the garden, and Nora finds her aunt pouring herself a glass of wine.
“Come on,” Nora nudges. “You can meet some of my friends.”
They make the rounds around the garden. She introduces Charlie to Natasha, who looks as starstruck as Nora has ever seen her.
Shaking her hand firmly, Natasha asks, excited, “You were Maverick’s instruction at Top Gun, right?”
“One of them,” Charlie answers coolly.
“You knew Viper then? And Iceman?”
“I did.”
“So cool,” Natasha breathes, and Bob nudges her with a small, side smile.
“Charlie,” Bradley calls out and rushes over to give her a big hug, lifting her kitten heels off the ground. It’s been a few years since Bradley last saw Charlie so Nora’s not surprised that Bradley and Charlie have a lot of catching up to do. She’s happy to listen and chime in every so often.
Awhile later, Bradley leaves to grab another plate of food, and gaze sweeping across the garden, Charlie turns to Nora and asks, unexpectedly, “Are you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?”
Nora manages not to blush. She raises her brows. “I would if I had one.”
“Really?” Charlie asks, like, Is that the story you’re going with? “Then, who’s that handsome man over there making moon eyes at you?”
Shit.
Nora looks over, and sure enough, even in the middle of a conversation with Javy, Mickey, and Reuben, Jake doesn’t seem to be paying one damn bit of attention to anything coming out of their mouths. His eyes are on her. Always on her.
She bites back a smile. And beckons him over.
He crosses the garden in a few long strides and after Nora introduces him (“This is my aunt, Charlie Blackwood.”), Jake greets her with a nod and an extended hand. “Jake Seresin, ma’am.”
“Jake,” Charlie repeats with recognition. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Finally? Nora frowns slightly. She’s never mentioned him before this afternoon.
His lips part in a wide, charming smile. “Likewise, ma’am.”
Charlie looks amused. “You don’t have to keep calling me ma’am.”
“He’s from Texas,” Nora offers like an explanation, a little too quickly, and Charlie’s arched brow makes her cheeks grow warm. She avoids her eyes, squinting at the horizon and pretending to be fascinated by the gulls over the beach.
Charlie’s not fooled. She smirks and asks, “Texas, huh? What part?”
“Austin,” Jake replies. It’s a visible effort not to add ma’am at the end.
“You don’t say. Did Nora ever tell you that my husband John went to UT Austin?”
A spark lights up his eyes, and Jake seems to be doing fine on his own so Nora leaves him alone to grab another drink in the midst of an in-depth discussion of the Texas Longhorns. She spots Ethan and Chris on her way back and gets pulled into a conversation with them, saying goodbye and wishing them luck in their next projects in case Nora misses them later.
When Nora returns, Jake and Charlie are still talking. She must like him.
Jake smiles at Nora and in his brown sugar voice, says, “I’ll let you enjoy the rest of the evening with your niece, ma’am. She’s pretty spectacular.”
She could kick him. Or kiss him. Or both.
“She is,” Charlie agrees. “Nice to meet you, Jake. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you.”
She could kick both of them.
When Jake is out of earshot, Charlie comments, “He’s very charming.”
Nora almost laughs. “I know.”
“He likes you.”
She does laugh now. “Believe me, I know.”
“He’s the one who called me,” Charlie adds casually, and Nora whirls on her.
“What? You said Captain Mitchell called you.”
Charlie shakes her head, smiling, a knowing smile. “Pete was the one who forwarded me the invite, but Jake called me.” A chuckle. “He called me ma’am on the phone too.”
She smiles despite herself because of course.
“What’d Jake say? What made you come?” Nora asks.
“He said that you needed me and you probably wouldn’t call me and tell me that outright, but you were having a hard time.” Charlie looks at her sidelong, lips curled at the ends, a dimple in her cheek. “He knows you pretty well, your not-boyfriend.”
Nora looks for him again.
She finds him on the other side of the garden, laughing at something Bradley is saying, hair a golden halo in the summer evening sun. He called Charlie. She never asked, never needed to ask. He just… knew.
And Nora falls a little bit in love with him right then and there; in the same way a little bit of rain falls on your window at the beginning of a mid-August storm.
A preview before an inevitable downpour.
Evening begins to blend into night, and Nora sits on the steps of the porch to watch the sunset.
It’s a good vantage point. She can see everyone and everything.
Bob brought a deck of cards and now, the Daggers are playing a game of Bullshit on a massive picnic blanket that Penny brought outside for them, and Penny’s daughter Amelia sits with them, giggling when Bradley loses and pretends to stomp off.
Nora watches as Charlie goes over to Captain Mitchell and gently puts a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry about Ice. He was a good man.”
Captain Mitchell nods, his mouth a line, emotion crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Thanks, Charlie.”
He opens his mouth to say something else, but Nora looks away.
He gave her privacy earlier. She’ll return the favor.
A step creaks behind her, and Nora dips her head back to see Jake.
“Hi cowboy,” Nora greets, and Jake grins down at her.
He drops onto the step next to her, arm stretched behind her.
“How’d it go with Charlie?” Jake asks.
“Good,” Nora says. She rests her chin on her palm, her elbow on her knee, and studies him closely. “She told me that you called her. How’d you even get her number?”
“Bradshaw,” Jake replies. He meets her gaze and holds it, green on blue, sparkling like the ocean. “Seemed like, maybe you needed her.”
Her chest aches, and Nora says softly, “Thank you.”
His wide palm spreads across her leg, fingertips dangling to brush against the inside of her thigh. “How long’s she staying?”
“A week. She changed her flight. She’s flying back to New York with me, instead of D.C.”
Silence falls like an anchor, plummeting to the ocean floor. A muscle works in his jaw, like Jake’s chewing on his next words. “What happens now?”
For her? For them?
She doesn’t have all the answers, but Nora at least has this.
“How do you feel about long distance?” Nora asks, watching him carefully.
A smile flickers on his face as Jake realizes what Nora is asking.
“California to New York? I can probably swing a few flights, cash in some miles.”
She sets her hand over his, fiddling with his fingers. “That’s sweet, but I was actually thinking more like, North Island to here.”
“Here?” He looks confused, adorably so, and Nora holds back a smile.
“Turns out that Charlie has some empty-nester friends here from her Top Gun days. They’re looking to rent out their guest house for the rest of the year. It’s not far from here actually, within walking distance of the beach.” She can feel her heart pounding like Nora’s running a marathon as Jake slowly start to understand. “I turned down the offer, Jake. I’m moving back to California.”
She called Jenna from the hotel bar. She was a little bit annoyed with Nora, understandably.
Her first words were, “Are you kidding me? You waited until now to tell me this?”
But after a few minutes of Nora’s apologetic I know, I’m sorry, I know, Jenna was ultimately supportive.
“Damn, Nora. This is a real loss for our industry, but I’m happy for you. If you never need a connection in Hollywood, call me. I know people who know people.”
And one day, Nora might take her up on that, but right now, Nora needs a break. A real one. And California feels like the right place for her to take one. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it here until she came back.
“You’re staying,” Jake repeats slowly, like Jake’s afraid to believe her.
She reassures him with a nod. “I still have a storage unit back in New York so I have to go back, and I have a few things left at Charlie’s, but Charlie’s coming to help me clean it out and move what I need. And…” Nora drifts off and for once, the uncertainty doesn’t seem so scary. It’s wide open and hopeful.
Jake wipes his hand down his face and sets his hand on his chest, right above his pounding heart, looking utterly relieved. “You’re… god, Hollywood, you’re gonna give a man a heart attack someday.”
“You love it,” Nora teases.
He lifts his chin with his knuckle, holding her gaze. “I really, really do.”
And when Jake kisses her, it feels like maybe he means something else.
Cheeks warm, Nora looks out at the horizon, and it’s that perfect time between day and night when the whole ocean is a watercolor of pale pink and purple. She kisses the carved dimple in his cheek and leans into his strong shoulder, and Jake tucks her under his chin, rubbing his thumb across her palm, over her heart line.
Breathing in the smell of the ocean and him, Nora closes her eyes and catches her breath.
end note: charlie, my beloved. i didn't mean for this to be so long, but i hope you enjoyed 🩵 likes are always appreciated, but comments and reblogs make my whole day. i love hearing from y'all.
want to be tagged in the epilogue? fill out this form!
#about to be crying through the epilogue goodbye#fic: baby i'm high octane#laracrofted writes#jake seresin fic#jake seresin x oc#jake seresin x nora rogers#hangman x oc#hangman fic#hangman smut#jake seresin smut
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Withering for You || Seungcheol- Part 3
Pairings: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, CEO! Seungcheol au, Husband! Seungcheol au, Wife! Reader au, Music Teacher! Reader au, Arranged Marriage au, College Sweetheart au, Exes to Lovers au
Synopsis: When you are arranged married to the man, whose heart you had broken years ago, even dreaming about mending things seems next to impossible when he has been holding grudge for all these only to return it to you tenfold.
Warnings (specific to this part): suggestive, crying, profanities, love blooms, mentions of infidelity (doesn't happen to though), mention of alcohol consumption, betrayal, rock bottom, italics represents occurrences in past
Word Count: 6.4k
TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED!
Banner credits to my baby @hoeforhao <3
[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]
Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue
Seungcheol is distressed. He thinks something is wrong with you. Though he had dismissed all the previous occurrences, he can't do it anymore. You're distant nowadays. You don't kiss him goodbyes. You don't say the 'I love you's. You're always ditching him at any chance given. You don't let him sneak into your sheets.
The inseparable godly campus couple are barely seen together nowadays. The rumours are being spread. Some are worried, some are happy. Though you both had no secrets, Seungcheol still thinks you must have your own reasons if you're keeping something upto yourself. He tries his best to be patient and waits for you to come back because he trusts you.
Seungcheol is an enigma. He's sculpted, he's hella smart, he's hella rich. The girls lined up outside the dorm just to catch a glimpse of him. The guys hogged out his dorm room just to know how can someone be a full package.
He knew people would either love him for his looks or mostly for his money. He had no hope of making genuine friends until he came across Wonwoo, a scholarship student, who was aloof and coincidentally his assigned roommate.
If Seungcheol thought he was good at pushing people away, he was amazed to see Wonwoo. Sharing the dorm room with him was almost living alone. Seungcheol couldn't pinpoint why but he knew Wonwoo hated him. So one day after gathering courage and confronting him, Seungcheol comes to know about his cautiousness against rich people in general. Then one talk lead to two, two lead to three and that's how Seungcheol and Wonwoo became friends.
He was sure he wouldn't find love until you came in the picture.
A hard slap comes against Seungcheol's cheek and the whole campus becomes eerily silent.
"How dare you submit my assignment in your name?", you are fuming in rage and raise your hand to slap him again when he holds your hand mid air.
"What the hell are you talking about?", he hisses through his teeth.
You scoff, "The audacity to pretend, Mr. Choi Seungcheol. Just because you have looks and money which you have no contribution in, you think you've conquered the world.", you free your arm from his grip, "Come to the professor's cabin at 2 or else I'll skin you alive. Pathetic loser."
You walk away but Seungcheol has his head spinning. He doesn't get why he got slapped out of nowhere and why the hell would he submit your assignment in his name when he doesn't even know you.
Then the lightbulb in his head goes off.
He immediately corners Jiah.
"What have you done?", he asks angrily.
Jiah is sweating, when she had assured Seungcheol that she would take care of the assignment because he had to aid his father with some business work and would be out of the country for two weeks, she didn't foresee herself completely forgetting about it.
So when she saw a binder kept on a desk, she silently took it and attached Seungcheol's name and details on it, tearing away the original owner's details.
Confident that even if someone caught onto it, they would let it slide just to get on Seungcheol's good side, she never thought it would backfire so bad.
Hence, Seungcheol is currently standing in the professor's cabin admitting to the wrong, head hung low.
You stand straight, head high also glaring at the professor, "What if he had not admitted to doing it? You'd have my whole work credited to him. Next time if something like this happens under my watch, I'll report it to the committee."
The professor gulps nervously and you are walking out not sparing another second.
That's where it all begun. Him knowing your name from the professor and chasing you down to apologise. You unabashedly giving him lectures on authenticity and ethics whenever he approached you.
You frequently get to see him, coincidentally or not. Him trying to make small talks, you ending his approach with an one word answer and moving ahead.
"Are you stalking me?", comes your sudden question one day.
"No, but I do look forward to seeing you, talking to you.", comes his honest answer.
He notices, you also like to keep your circle small. You're seen everywhere with the same two people. Now it's your turn to be amused when one day Mingyu insists on bringing Seungcheol to the musical, the one in which you've contributed to the background score. You're left embarrassed when at the end of the show he yells your name and applauds the loudest because he is mesmerized. That night he treats the whole team to dinner.
"I think Seungcheol likes you.", Eunsoo tells you one day.
"The almighty Choi Seungcheol?", you are laughing, "Soo, I don't match his social status. Have you seen those plastic heiress chasing him? I had even slapped him infront of the whole campus."
"Look, we have become good friends but I do know he approached me because of you.", Mingyu admits, "He definitely likes you."
"Do you like him?", Eunsoo asks you.
"Why would I like him?", you ponder.
Wonwoo is an observer. And with his special skill he deducts that his friend must have had his heart taken.
"So who's the one?", he asks one night when they're both getting ready for bed.
"Who's who?", Seungcheol asks confused.
"The one you like."
"Am I that obvious?"
"Yes. Please it be anyone except for Jiah, I can't tolerate her. Anyways, I know it wouldn't be her...", then Wonwoo goes on about how he spends less time in the dorm room nowadays. How he's always wandering around in the campus which he never did before. How he's consistent in attending the same two specific lectures.
"It's Y/N.", he says shyly, hiding his face behind his palms.
"No wonder, you're a masochist.", Wonwoo lays down on bed, "You like the girl who slapped you."
Seungcheol gasps, utterly embarassed, "Stop blabbering nonsense!"
When he asks you out, instead of being taken out to a fancy restaurant as initially planned you request him to go on a movie date.
It took you five dates to make him know you.
"We don't belong to the same class, Seungcheol."
"I'm not looking for anything temporary, Seungcheol."
"I don't enjoy the luxuries, I'd rather achieve everything on my own, Cheol."
"I like to keep my circle small amd private. Nothing extravagant."
"I like you too but would you accept me after knowing all this?"
The response from him comes as strong as a whirlwind in the form a deep kiss. You might have been hesitant at start but he has always been sure.
Things have gotten better since your birthday. Seungcheol's hostility towards you has decreased and though you want to question him about this certain change, those take a backseat just to not lose what you have at this moment.
He snarks at you less. Listens if you have something to say. Checks upon you occassionally. Wears the attire you choose for him, you both have breakfast & dinner together. But you still sleep in separate rooms but after intimate nights he doesn't leave, rather sleeps in nowadays.
"You should never trust him.", says Chan from the other end.
"What if he's really changed?", you tell him, "Maybe he has finally got that all this revenge agenda is worthless if you can be with the person you love."
"Just ask him.", Chan insists, "You need to understand that being in denial would only hurt you so confront him."
"Okay, if you insist."
Wonwoo is suspicious of Seungcheol. He too like Chan isn't convinced that Seungcheol could change overnight. So he secretly keeps the tabs on him. The fact which disturbs him is Jiah is happy nowadays. If your relationship with Seungcheol improves then Jiah would be anything but happy which leaves him skeptical.
"Don't do anything you'd regret later.", he warns Seungcheol one day. The latter just shrugs off.
Seungcheol was escatic when he started first. It was fun for him to watch how you'd easily trust him. A piece of calk to make you a fool he thought.
He acts as a considering husband in front of you but schemes your downfall behind your back.
"One of those busy days?", he asks one day when he sees you returning from the academy late. It totally catches you off guard but that simple gesture makes you visibily beam as well which doesn't go unnoticed by your husband. He then proceeds to fake concern and show interest when you talk it out.
"How about we go to watch a movie?", he asks one night when you both finish having dinner.
"Will you be able to make time for that?", you ask concerned.
Next, he's grabbing your hand and dragging you out.
"We're in our pyjamas, we can't go out like this, Seungcheol!", you yell in panic when you get his motive.
He doesn't lend you an ear throughout the ride while he's driving you both to the theatre, having it entirely booked to his name.
You can't say much about the movie because Seungcheol's good at distracting you. His dirty whispers, lingering touches and sly looks lead to something unspeakable. Movie long forgotten you're basking in afterglow against your husband's bare chest, in his warm embrace.
"Remember when we were taken out of the theatre by the security after getting caught while making out?"
You laugh at the memory, "We did some real crazy things back then. I could never forget how you walked into the class only in underpants after loosing a bet to me."
Seungcheol response comes out as a scowl as he pinches your sides making you squeal.
You watch him for some moments in silence before mustering the courage and ask him, "Are you really willing to forgive me? Because after what I have done to you, I know it would take a lot more to forgive me."
Seungcheol freezes but gains his compusre quickly and lies through his teeth, "I pondered a lot upon it. You know my mom said the exact thing as you about marriages. So maybe it's a good idea to start anew."
"I-I promise I'll make it up to all the hurt and pain you've been in because of me. I'm so ashamed for treating you like that back then, wish I could take it all back.", your voice cracks, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes, "We'll be happy Seungcheol."
He doesn't believe you. But you do.
Then this goes on. He tries to slip into your life, your circle, your family casually so that when he hits later, the blow catastrophes you.
"I'm currently working on a piece.", you reveal to him one night, "And I'm planning to release the composition, it's midway.", a sigh escapes your lips as you snuggle closer in your husband's arms, "You're the first one to know."
Seungcheol mirrors your smile, pressing a feather kiss on your head, "I'm honoured. And I'm so proud of you.", he laughs when he says, "I wonder how Seungkwan's gonna react when he comes to know that he wasn't the first one to know."
"Oh God, he's gonna be a bitch about it.", you exclaim about it.
He surprises you with gifts, visits you in the academy and takes you to dates. All of it just to keep tabs on you, make you slip out crucial information about anything.
"When are you going to take her down?", Jiah ask impatiently, "You're unnecessarily stalling time."
"I do have gotten something crucial on her. But the more I dwell into this act, the more she'll be hurt.", Seungcheol assures, "Just do what you've been told to and don't act so obvious, specially around Wonwoo, I don't know why but he has been lately saying stuffs. Seems he has grown closer to Y/N and her circle."
Though he wasn't interested at all, but for the sake of fooling you again, he attends the competition you & Seungkwan had taken part in.
Though he would never admit, he was intrigued as he watched you perform again, the nostalgia had hit him hard. He still isn't sure if the loudest claps those came from him were just for eyewash or out of genuinity.
Though he didn't want to spend his birthday with you, somehow it ended up being the most memorable one. When you had wished him dot at midnight and gathered his family and beloved people for a private party where you played him a romantic piece which you had composed just for him as a birthday present, in front of everyone, he wonders if love laced aura radiating from you was real. He wonders if the swell in his chest was just not because of you.
Every time he thinks he's slipping, he reminds himself of the heart burns, the trauma and again he's back to his agenda.
There's a fine line between pretense and reality. And that line is starting to blur for Seungcheol. The worst part, he hasn't even realised it yet.
So when he makes time to visit your academy, he thinks he's acting out according to his plan. But he doesn't realise he goes there just to watch you teach.
He doesn't realise that when plans those dates he actually looks forward to spending time with you.
When you were down with fever, he took you to the doctor not to look good to you but out of genuine worry.
He now shares his bedroom with you. All your belongings have shifted from your room to his. He doesn't like it when he finds the other side of the empty in the mornings. He doesn't let you go if he catches you while you try to sneak off, he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.
He knows about your schedules and nowadays he frees his schedule when you ask him to come and watch you perform. He anticipates your performance until you're on the stage, still claps the loudest and rushes to the backstage with a bouquet just to hug and tell how proud he is of you.
He doesn't fuck you and he might yet not be aware but makes love to you.
"Cherry!", he calls out one day when the two of you were goofing around and both of you freeze instantly. It was a name you both called each other when you both dated and were so in love. And now, that's what falls back to your lips. Like the good old days.
"You have changed.", Jiah says with disappointment, "Do you really not want revenge?"
"What rubbish.", Seungcheol laughs, "It's all just acting.", but the assertiveness in his voice fluctuates.
"So when are you gonna do the needful?", she raises her voice and Seungcheol glares at her.
"I'll decide when to do what.", he snarks, "Doesn't concern you, so stop being pushy."
And Jiah is sure that Seungcheol isn't determined anymore, that his feelings are resurfacing and interfering with the plan.
So she decides to take the matter into her hands once again, like she did years ago.
"Tell me you're joking.", Seungcheol laughs as his gaze sweeps at the faces, "Ok fine you guys got me. Good try."
There's an eerie silence clogging the room.
"Guys, I said y'all got me!", Seungcheol says this time a bit anxious, "You won! Now can we stop all this drama?"
You roll your eyes, as if unbothered, "There's no prank going on here. What I said was true."
You step closer to him, "I'll say it again so listen carefully. You were just a bet to me.", you say unapologetically, "Those guys", your index points at Mingyu and Eunsoo, "gave me a bet to make you, 'the enigmatic Choi Seungcheol'", a mocking laugh follows, "who nobody could bag yet", you're now objectifying him, "make fall in you love with me."
Seungcheol just listens. But he refuses to believe.
You are laughing again. Your hands grab his face moving it side to side, "I was so skeptical because you seemed scary. I mean you do have looks, money and power. But who could guess that you'd be so easy."
You circle around him, "All I had to do was create this image of aloof, private kind of girl and bam! you were circling around me like a puppy. I must admit, I was surprised at my own acting. Never made you have a doubt any second."
The first tear rolls down his cheek, when Seungcheol says, "Was none of it real for you, all the time we spent together?"
"Are you not getting it?", you ask annoyed, "No. None of it was real."
Seungcheol rushes to Mingyu and grabs his collar, "Gyu, please tell me it's all a lie. Just say it and I'd believe it in a blink."
Mingyu stays quiet, eyes lowered.
He then grabs Eunsoo, "Soo, I know you're the most rational one among us, so please please I'm begging you to tell. Tell me whatever she's telling is not true."
Eunsoo refuses to meet his gaze, she stays silent as well.
Seungcheol frees her and stands motionless for moments. He processes everything that he has heard since the moment he stepped into the room. He thinks over but he still doesn't want to believe.
Because he loves you to much to let you go. So he decides to be irrational just one time.
Seungcheol wipes the tears and walks upto you. When you look at him, your heart twists within your chest.
"Y/N", he looks at you so tenderly, "But none of it matters.", his hands travel up to caress your face, "Because all of it was true from my side. I love you, Y/N. Love you so much that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It's you or no one.", he says so sincerely, "It was wrong to start off as a bet but I want to forget all this."
He then kneels on his knees, "Y/N, let's start this relationship afresh, on the right foot."
You panic because this was not you had expected. You had expected him to throw tantrum, say mean things, even slap you. But none of that happens.
"I don't love you, Seungcheol --"
"Then let me court you. Let me try my luck. Let's see if I could make you fall for me?", he's radiating so much love and grief that it suffocates all the three of you.
This won't do, you think, your plan is failing.
"I have been sleeping with people behind your back the whole time we dated.", you say unabashedly, "I have climbed beds and you never got to know."
Mingyu gasps, Eunsoo freezes at your words.
"It's okay", Seungcheol assures, "Because we weren't real. But now--"
"What makes you think I wouldn't do the same even after being an actual thing with you?", you scoff, "I might actually cheat on you this time. I would have you, your money, the luxuries. I might also see other people and like now, you'd never know.
Seungcheol feels like you've stabbed his heart and twisted the knife. There's an unfathomable bleeding.
"But you never used me, nor my money, none of the luxuries to get something. If you wanted, you could have, have it all.", he argues, "It might have started as an act but at some point it must have become real. Or why would you make me aware of this stupid bet if you didn't have feelings for me?"
"Stop being a sucker.", you snark at him, "It's not like you won't girls. Why are you acting like a loser when you know I don't, I won't reciprocate your feelings?"
Seungcheol gets up, with shaky hands and bloodshot eyes.
"Because even if you didn't, I have loved you honestly.", comes Seungcheol's response.
"I won the bet and lost interest in you.", you look at him condescendingly, "I felt bad for you, so right now I'm letting you know the truth. So just leave, forget about all this and carry on with your life. You were nothing but another notch on my bedpost. I would admit, I had fun. Thanks for that."
Seungcheol gets up and thinks about how he made a fool of himself. Thinks about how right he was about people taking advantage of him because of the baggage that comes with him. Thinks about how wrong it was of him to let his guard down.
"Well played, y'all.", he claps and chuckles bitterly with eyes pooling with tears, "Well played.", he then throws a glare at you which sends down a shiver down your & your friends' spine.
"Make sure to not cross paths with me again. Or I'll make you regret your existance."
And you made sure that's the last time he saw you.
"I have to be overseas for an important deal.", Seungcheol says laying back on his office chair, "It will be a one week trip and the connectivity is so bad, I'd probably lose touch with everyone while I'll be there."
You go over to his side and stand behind to rub his shoulders making your husband groan in relief, "Tell me about it, happens with Chan as well. When are you leaving?"
Seungcheol takes your hand and pulls you to make you sit on his lap when he says, "Month end. Y/N, I was thinking that...", he pauses to look at you before continuing, "If you could make some time and come with me. We didn't have our honeymoon yet so maybe we could make a good use of this trip."
You smile softly at him, "I'd love to but remember I had told you about working on a composition, it's release is set on by the month end."
"Oh right!", Seungcheol exclaims as he recollects, "God, I'm sorry it skipped my mind.", he instantly sullens, "But I don't think I'd be able to postpone this trip. I'm sorry I couldn't be there with you."
You peck his pouty lips and trace them with your thumb softly, "I can guess how important it would be, so don't worry. Anyways our first anniversary is coming as well, we can plan something later."
"Woah, we're getting through it?", Seungcheol laughs, "I can't believe, we made it."
"All because of you.", your mood shifts when you say, "Just because you had it in you to give me a second chance. That alone was enough."
"I had loved you back then", Seungcheol exhales sharply because of what he's going to say now. He smiles when he realises his feelings, realises that without hesitation he's ready to say it again. Gently holding your face he confesses, "I think I'm falling for you again."
You go absolutely stiff in his hold.
Seungcheol carefully searches your face for any signs of discomfort or uneasiness but he finds none.
"Am I dreaming?", you ask him animatedly, "Can you pinch me? No..", you shake your head, "Would you say it again?"
His eyes turn into crescent moons, as he flashes you the adorable teethy smile.
"I've fallen for you again.", he admits.
"I-I... Seungcheol.. I--", you stutter unable to wrap your mind around your husband's confession.
It was so hard to let you go. It killed to break your heart. Only if I could turn back time, only if I could tell how much I loved you as well.
The thoughts inside your head become louder making you so overwhelmed that now you are sobbing. It's uncontrollable and it makes Seungcheol have to rock you gently side to side while downing your face on his shoulder.
"I-I can't believe this is happening.", you don't face him, saying the words with your face still perched, while wrapping your arms around him tighter, "I love you so much, I know it'd be hard for you to believe but please just trust me on this."
Seungcheol doesn't speak, but he knows that he wants to believe you. Because love is about taking chances, so he might take it as well.
Once you calm down in his embrace, he watches you. He watches the gear in your head turning so he does what he could do to take your mind off of things.
He calls Wonwoo and says, "Don't let anyone into my cabin until you get another call from me. Also, don't connect anyone to the telecom."
Then he's flipping the phone somewhere and he gives you that one look which is enough to melt you into a puddle before his lips, tongue and hands start to work on your whole body.
"Congratulations!", Chan says hugging you, "I'm so proud of you."
"Thanks for making time and coming to the event. Also, the inspiration comes from you all", you say pulling away, "Credit goes to you too."
"Bluff.", Seungkwan comes to pitch in, "The theme is love, then clearly inspiration must be someone named 'Choi Seungcheol'."
You roll eyes hitting him on the arm but laugh nonetheless.
"Look she isn't even denying!", Mingyu joins in to throw a banter, "But I must say you're okay compared to Eunsoo, she's hopeless."
Chan quirks brow at the statement and asks, "Am I missing something?"
You hook your arm into his, saying, "Eunsoo had an itty bitty crush on Wonwoo at uni days which gradually got away. But now that he's back and into our circle, looking like a four course meal according to her, she thinks her crush is relapsing."
"You make it sound like it's cancer.", Eunsoo finally quips in, "Anyways doesn't matter, there's no scope, I must move on. Good thing Seungcheol took Wonwoo with him, out of sight, out of mind."
"I miss my husband. He didn't even wanna leave for the trip to be with me.", you sigh, leaning on your brother's shoulder, "I can't even contact him. Three more days, ugh sounds like an eternity."
"Oh god, I might puke at the lovesickness.", Seungkwan fake gags, "Disgusting."
"It's good to see that you're happy.", Chan whispers just to you while others indulge in several topics to tease one another, "It's such a relief. I would like to talk to Seungcheol once he's back. If he really loves you and makes you feel like home then I'm ready to mend things as well."
You just nod and let the moment sink in. Your pupils dilate as you see the smiles on your friends' faces who have been there with you through thick and thin. Your mind lingers back the proud expression on your parents face. The heartiest congratulations that you received from your in-laws. You tilt your head to look at your brother who always has been your anchor, your biggest supporter. All of them have been present at the composition release event and now they are present at your home to extend the celebration. The parents take leave after sometime to let the peers have fun.
Your home, as you say it proudly now, a place you share with your loving husband, who has forgiven you for the scarred past and shares companionship with you.
Everything is falling back to place and you wish it stays the same. Your eyes fall heavy and you drift off.
The sleep must have been good because it's 10 in the morning when you wake up to see yourself tucked in sheets in your bedroom. The hall is empty and you immediately understand that your brother must have taken it upon himself to drive away your lovely but clingy-when-drunk friends from your house.
You try to call Seungcheol but as usual he's unreachable, so is Wonwoo, so is everyone who has gone to the trip. Dejected, you leave him a series of undelivered texts in hope it somehow reaches him and decide to take a bath which involves you to be away from your phone, just relaxing music and another round of sleep in the bathtub with your favourite bath bombs.
Not sure how long you've fallen asleep but you're woken up by loud voices from the other side of the door. Quickly freshening up you get ready as your phone keeps ringing or dinging because of notifications. Ignoring that you get out of your bedroom to find very distressed Chan and Seungkwan waiting for you.
"What happened guys?", you ask in concern.
Chan makes you sit and you see the two exchanging nervous glances which in turn makes you nervous as well.
"Y/N..", Seungkwan starts off, he exhales sharply and says, "Your work is being accused of plagiarism."
The ground beneath you slips. You look at Seungkwan and then at Chan.
Chan sounds pissed when he says, "Apparently a local artist has already released the composition five days ago, meaning four days before your release event."
You are panicking, shaking, tears are streaming down your face, "I-I didn't steal anyone's work. I-I have composed them, they're my work. Trust me guys, please..I--"
"We trust you, Y/N.", Seungkwan runs to you and rubs your arms, "I have been with you through it. I have seen it all."
"I was studying it with Kwan before coming here, everything is same. Every piece, every insertion, every note.", Chan says, "It looks like someone wholly copied your work.
Seungkwan sighs, "I feel so ashamed but all I can think of is somefrom the academy doing so."
"That's possible.", Chan asks, "But from what I know no one knew about this except you both. Even the event was announced just before a day or two to the people of academy."
Seungkwan asserts, "Everything was done remotely. Y/N do you recollect telling anyone else about this at any stage apart from Seungcheol?"
"Seungcheol knew?", Chan quips surprised and you are shaking your head.
"No. Leave him out of this, he wouldn't have done anything.", you warn your brother.
"I'm sorry Y/N, but I can't leave anyone out of this.", Chan says, "Someone is trying to harm you and I would see through the end of it. Be it anyone."
Eunsoo and Mingyu are stumbling upon while crossing the threshold. Seungkwan briefs them about what have been deducted till now and they decide to stick by your side while Chan and Seungkwan rushes out to the field to gather evidence and facts.
"I have already talked to my father.", Mingyu informs you, "He himself will aid with any legal advice. Don't worry everything will be sorted out."
"I had a talk with my mother. She also ensured that we'd broadcast only the solid proofs that pertains to the truth. We have faith in you, it'll get over soon.", Eunsoo ensures you, "Infact we have had our reporters dig in the matter as well."
Soon after your parents arrive followed by your in-laws. Your phone keeps ringing and no one allows you to hold it. Eventually, the device is turned off and kept somewhere, out of your reach.
Among all of the ominous thoughts involving losing your career, unable to pursue your passion anymore, being deemed as a thief, outcasted by the society and all others, the one that prevails is would Seungcheol believe you?
Two days go by and there's not much progress. You strike continuously as the most trending person on the internet, on news papers, in some tabloids boldly called out as a thief, the others focused more on why there's no statement from your own company or the Choi's themselves. The only thing that keeps you at bay is Seungcheol's return tomorrow.
You are flabbergasted at how can the two pieces of work be exact same unless someone copied it. You decide to visit the academy and search for any leads. Just as you are about to drive off your phone buzzes.
I have some information that would benefit you. Meet me at The Ritz at 11.
The text was from Jiah and you're instantly drawn to how Jiah could be the one involved in this.
"Let's skip the formalities.", Jiah smiles as she places some documents and an usb drive in front of you.
There's a laptop kept on the table, the screen displaying an audio ready to be played.
"Aren't you eager to know what's happening and why it's happening to you?", Jiah asks with a cunning smile which irks you.
"Stop wasting my time and reveal if you know something.", you snark back, "And don't think I'd believe a word you say without any proof because I don't trust you a bit."
"Seungcheol--"
"Don't you dare bring my husband into this, Jiah!"
Your heart shrinks because of the look Jiah gives you. No way your husband would be involved into all this, no way he'd go as far as to ruin your career.
"I have done it. I have paid a staff in your academy to steal your work, made it release before your event and hence you're being charged with plagiarism.", Jiah confesses and before you could charge her she drops the bomb, "Your husband, Choi Seungcheol is the mastermind behind it."
"I'll cut your tongue for speaking rubbish--"
"How do you think I knew about all this? Who else apart from Seungcheol knew about this?", Jiah asks. Her gaze falls on the laptop and she gestures you to play it.
"Y/N is working on a composition and is planning to release it sometime later. We should use this opportunity to bring her down."
The audio stops and you recognise the voice as your husband's. The jab hits hard, hard enough to make you loose your footing. Jiah is quick to hold you and make you sit on the chair.
"Have a look at these papers."
Your hands are shaky when you pick up the papers. You freeze on reading the heading. Your hands fall to the sides once you finish reading it whole. Those bunch of papers were about transferring your shares of the academy under the Choi's name.
Jiah doesn't give you time to settle as she plays another recording.
"Are the papers ready? What will happen if I take her lifeline away from her?"
"When are you going to take her down? You're unnecessarily stalling time."
"The more I dwell into this act, the more she'll be hurt. Just do what you've been told to and don't act so obvious, specially around Wonwoo, I don't know why but he has been lately saying stuffs. Seems he has grown closer to Y/N and her circle."
You sit there motionless. The person you considered your world was the one planning to stab you.
"You can get these recordings examined.", Jiah tells you, "To be sure that I haven't manipulated or tampered with the recordings."
She takes a sit beside you and observes you carefully. The triumphant smile that graces her lips on seeing you getting trampled, makes her believe that now's the time when she could spew any lies and you'd believe it. She knows she has won over.
"The plan was to take advantage of your helplessness and make you transfer the shares in the disguise of helping you clearing your name.", Jiah leans in closer to your face, "Why do you think Seungcheol is out of country out of all the time? He's trying to build up the urgency so that as soon as he walks in you'd be at his feet asking for help."
Jiah has accepted that she would never have Seungcheol to herself, so not at fear of loosing anything she's going all out as for to separate you two.
"The Choi's are so powerful that no matter how much you try, there's no way you could prove your innocence.", Jiah says as her sinisteric gaze falls on you again, "You can take all these proofs, additionally, I'll even provide the details pertaining to the person who stole your work and make them confess."
"W-Why are you helping me?"
"Either way it breaks you two apart and that's the motive. Knowing the truth would hurt you the most."
Her heels clank loudly as she walks out, leaving you behind, defeated and devastated.
How foolish of you to believe that Seungcheol would forgive you easily? How naive of you that you fell for his act of a doting husband.
You wonder if this is how he had felt after being betrayed by you. You run your hands over your chest to soothe the ache. You scream, throw down anything you could grab, stomp over the place but nothing helps you in calming down.
Three hours have passed and you're still in that damned conference room. Scathed, scrotched and scattered.
You inhale, exhale and repeat. Then you're calling your brother.
"Chan, arrange for a press conference tomorrow evening. Also stop looking further into the case. I have evidence to prove that I'm innocent.", you say into the phone, "Gather everyone at the academy, none of the Choi's though. Ask Eunsoo if they would broadcast it on their network. Tell Mingyu to have Mr. Kim free some time for me this week if possible. Make the checks now, we can't delay it further."
Seungcheol's boarding the plane back home when he comes to know of the situation. He feels sick to stomach when all that's happening feels too known to him. Though he might have wanted this to happen once but now he can't even fantom the thought of doing something so viscious to you.
He calls you but you don't pick up. He calls others, makes Wonwoo call them too but it's fruitless.
He's anxious throughout the way, worried sick, feels guilty for not being by your side when you're going through so much. He hopes you're not beating your much, wants to hold, wants to assure you that everything will be fine, that you have him.
Wonwoo is running through all the red lights equally anxious. He wants to go inside and check upon you but he steps aside as he watches Seungcheol rushing into the house, hoping you'll be okay.
Seungcheol rustles through the corridor and slam opens the door, hurriedly making a sprint inside the house.
It's afternoon but the house, entire hallway is dimly lit. Suddenly the lights go on and he spots you.
Something about you is different, it's almost eerie. The black dress you're wearing, the cold gaze your throwing is unsettling.
"Baby--", you hold out your hand when Seungcheol starts to walk towards you.
Seungcheol halts, he feels the grimness in your aura.
"Welcome back, Seungcheol. I have been waiting for you.", you say apathetically, "Take a seat, I have some things to discuss with you, before I leave for the press conference."
That's when Seungcheol notices your finger void of the wedding ring.
→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️
#withering for you#seventeen#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#svt au#seventeen au#seventeen fanfic#seventeen scenarios#seungcheol#choi seungcheol#scoups#seungcheol x y/n#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol scenarios#scoups scenarios#scoups x y/n#scoups x reader#scoups fluff#scoups smut#seungcheol smut#seungcheol angst#scoups angst#scoups x you#seungcheol x you#scoups fanfic#scoups au#seungcheol au#svt fanfic#svt fluff#svt angst
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To Have And To Scold
♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader
Summary: Your best friends are getting married, and who else can they ask to be their best man and maid of honour but you and Joe? It’s just that… you don’t really get along all that well, do you? At least, that’s what you think.
CW / disclaimer: sort of enemies to sort of lovers, slooow burn, language, rpf, fem!reader, smut, drinking
Author’s note: we made it girlies, it's time to get all the answers, but also time to say goodbye - it's been a JOURNEY and i apologise for how long this took me! Pls enjoy!
Wordcount: 6.7K
part one - part two - part three - part four - part five- part six- part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten - epilogue
"You know I want to say it..." Joe said after a short silence.
"I know," you were well aware.
"Please let me say-"
"No."
It had been a week. Just a week. Joe wasn't allowed to say those words to you. He let them slip that night, had just blurted them out at the wedding, and you hadn't been able to swallow the words. Instead, they got lodged in your windpipe and had made you want to throw up.
"Please don't." you instructed, eyes trained on Joe's hand.
You felt Joe's eyes on you as he took a deep breath, settling on the understanding that you didn't want to hear them yet. You'd been playing with his hand for a little bit as you were both on your sides, heads buried into pillows and you'd already told Joe to go to sleep three times because you knew what time his alarm would go off the next morning.
But how could Joe sleep with you on your side of his bed, slowly tracing the lines of his palm with your fingers?
"Did you really think I hated you?"
Joe's question flushed you with a gentle wave of emotions. The delicate vulnerability and the sense of elation were the direct effect good sex had on you, which left you feeling you both physically and emotionally exposed. You could sob from looking anyone in the eye for a second too long right now, so coming in hot with a question that you knew Joe needed an honest answer to, did exactly that.
It contorted your whole face a second, crumpled it up into an ugly cry, breath held as your throat tensed to keep the sob inside because, yes you did. And it had always bothered you.
You had thought about it all week, kept going over interactions you'd had with Joe over the years and tried to puzzle it all into the narrative of Joe having a crush on you.
But it was difficult.
It didn't matter how many people helped you, how much Poppy tried to convince you that she didn't know Joe like this, that it had to be real. How much Mark tried to drill into you that he remembered how Joe looked at you the first time Mark and Poppy had forced you two to hang out together.
And it didn't matter that on some level you did understand. Understanding it in your brain and feeling it in your body were two vastly different things, after all.
So you nodded, because yes, you had honestly thought that Joe didn't like you. That he didn't want you in his life.
With eyes squeezed shut and your face screwed up you turned onto your back, trying to escape Joe's direct gaze a second. You felt how his hand that had laid relaxed in between you gripped onto yours for comfort.
Tears welled up fast, but you knew how to handle them.
You forced your face to relax, forced your eyes to open, forced your ribcage to expand and inhaled deeply. You held it there for a few seconds before you exhaled through your mouth and... you were fine.
Deep breaths always helped.
Turning back to Joe with your face relaxed, your expression smooth, all void of emotion, you found him looking at you with worry-filled eyes.
"You do that," not a question, just a statement about something Joe had noticed.
"What?"
"You stop it." Joe remembered how, several times, he'd seen you cry, and every time, you'd been able to stop it just as quickly as it had started. Maybe not as fast when you were drunk, but... still. This was some very advanced repressing of emotions.
Unclasping your hand from Joe's, you placed his hand back where it had laid before, in between the two of you, palm up, ready to get back into drawing lines over it with your fingers because that was just as soothing to you as it was to him.
"You'd rather have me cry?"
If Joe was honest, he did. He wondered how long it would take for you to be able to lose the tough exterior around him. Fully lose the whole I Can Take Care Of Myself facade. He felt that you had shed some layers already, but those were layers he'd put there himself. Joe now had to filter through neutral territory before you'd be able to let him in any further. To trust he did actually like you.
"I have never hated you," Joe whispered, and moved to kiss your forehead.
"I know," you whispered back, fully focussed on Joe's hand again. Stroking. Tracing lines with delicate touch. Avoiding Joe's eye-contact, mostly.
"It's the opposite,"
"Joe," you warned, eyes shooting up a fraction of a second to meet his.
"I won't say it."
But Joe thought it. Felt the words in his bones, strengthening and weakening them at the same time. It was agony, but you'd told Joe it was only fair for him to say those words if it was in response to you saying them.
And it had only been a week.
A week.
A week since you'd made it downstairs and found the groomsmen, the bridesmaids, Poppy, and her dad, all ready and waiting for the ceremony to start. Mark was down by the altar, and the room was filled to the brim with people.
The groomsmen had been paired up with the bridesmaids to walk down the aisle; ladies on the left, men on the right. Which was funny, because that meant that you and Joe would have to cross paths at the end to go stand in your correct groups and you knew it'd get a soft chuckle from everyone there.
When you and Joe lined up at the end, in front of Poppy and her dad, she had been on your immediately. Tried to be subtle, but asked all sorts of questions. She very obviously tried to make the two of you confess you'd been hiding in a coat closet together, but you didn't budge. Kept straight faces. Told Poppy she looked beautiful in her dress. Smiled at her dad, who had no idea what was going on, but was polite and tried to calm his daughter. He even shushed her a little, which made you and Joe look each other as deftly as you could as you tried to hide smiles before it was your turn to walk down the aisle.
During the ceremony, your mind was swirling. Going a million miles an hour. You were stood behind Mark, who looked at Poppy, and behind Poppy was Joe. You had your eyes locked at the back of Mark's suit, able to see Joe in your peripheral vision just over his shoulder behind Poppy, and you were meant to follow the ceremony. Listen to the officiant's whole official shpiel. Listen to Mark and Poppy's heartfelt vows. But your mind was elsewhere.
Convinced that, in hindsight, you should have somehow known of Joe's crush, you were stumped to realise that you hadn't. Not even a little bit.
Poppy had said he'd been in love – like, actual love for 'fucking ages' and... bitch, where?
Mentally you were so far removed from what was happening around you that, when the officiant asked for the rings, you had to be pulled from your thoughts by a loud scrape of Mark's throat.
"Wha- rings! Rings. Yes. I've got the rings."
And Joe pressed his lips together, bit them into his mouth to hide a smile as you handed over the little red box.
Whilst you'd been staring at Mark's back, sort of frowning in thought, Joe had been eyeing you. He could see how your eyes were sort of glazed over, all out of focus, and he couldn't help but blame himself for you missing it. You were missing your best friend getting married to his best friend because you were all zoned out, and he predicted he was responsible for it. Sensed how being forced to stand still and in silence for a long time probably wasn't helping his situation.
It gave you time to go over what had just happened.
What you had just learnt.
And fuck. Joe was going to have to answer to a lot, probably.
When it was time to follow Poppy and Mark out, all the way down the aisle and out of the room with everyone stood up and clapping, Joe smiled and nodded at the people he walked past but said, "All right, ask away,"
And as you smiled and nodded at the people on your side of the aisle, you said, "Where do I even start?"
The fact that you were convinced Joe had never really liked you was probably the right place to start.
But you were at a wedding.
And you were in the bridal party.
This was hardly the place or the time for a serious conversation, to ask all the tough questions you had on your mind. Yet, it was the only thing on your mind. Couldn't think of anything else. It just kept wandering there, and it didn't really help that Joe was there the whole time, reminding you of all of it.
Things grew complicated in your head. Things tangled and twisted until you couldn't undo the knots.
You kind of wished you were back in that coat closet again. Where it was dark, and hot, and where no one else could see or hear you kiss, and touch, and pant into each other's mouths.
But you were at a wedding.
So. You found moments to steal.
A couple of seconds here and there to stand close enough to Joe for you to sneak out an accusation. Something Joe would have to answer for, and he'd have to be quick, because it couldn't look like you were actually talking, could it?
The day was about Poppy and Mark.
The newly weds.
You were the best man and the maid of honour. Still had jobs to do.
So you hid in plain sight. Got your questions out and had Joe answer them as fast as he could.
During cocktail hour, there were photographs taken outside in the courtyard. The whole bridal party got involved, both sets of parents too, and it was a lot of posing in various groups.
When you and Joe were stood off to the side, both looking at whoever was next to pose next to Mark and Poppy, you stole the moment.
"You don't like me..." you said, loud enough for just Joe to hear. You weren't even looking at each other, but Joe knew you were talking to him.
"I do like you... I had to make you think that I didn't,"
"Well," you inhaled sharply. "You're a fantastic actor."
Had it been anyone else saying that under any other circumstance, it was the best compliment Joe could wish for. But this, right now, coming from you? It stung.
"I couldn't have– there's so many reasons, all stupid, I assure you, but I couldn't– Poppy would, well, I thought Poppy would never have–"
Joe didn't get to finish his sentence. The photographer called you over, wanted you to pose with Mark and the other groomsmen and you didn't hesitate to walk away. Didn't let on you were listening to what Joe was saying.
The next moment you found was just before the bridal party was to enter the venue where everyone had just sat down for dinner.
"The framed photo you cropped me out of," you stated flatly, eyes up ahead.
"Folded photo," Joe corrected you, and you snapped your head to look at him, all bewildered, because what the fuck?
"I folded that. I wanted to frame the full thing, but I couldn't. You were off-limits. But you were there.... just, hidden, at the back of it,"
You were introduced, and had to snap out of it quickly. Faces open and joyful because you were at a wedding and tonight was going to be fun.
You found your seats and looked at each other when you saw the name cards placed next to each other. You'd seen the seating chart beforehand, and the two of you had not been sat together according to earlier made plans.
Poppy.
Fucking Poppy and her stupid meddling.
It gave Joe a chance to explain more as the newly weds entered, and applause thundered before they started their first dance. With the both of you turned in your seats to watch you best friends sway in each other's arms, Joe got to talk.
Joe explained how he couldn't have given himself a finger, because he would've gone and grabbed for the full hand.
Joe told you how it was all a thing of self-deprivation, and that Poppy had been right when she said Joe had had feelings for you for a while.
Joe was no longer hiding anything. He no longer cared about keeping secrets. All the initial thoughts, the first things that would pop into his brain, it all came spilling out. Quietly, and rambly, but it was all there for you to soak up.
The misplaced jokes. The walking you home. The silent message Mark had sent him with a single shake of his head. The chats he had with Poppy about her insecurities that always included you. The shirt and tie and dress shoes he wore in his own house. The shared gelato, "I was crossing a line there, scolded myself for days after," Joe said, and you didn't think that was true. That was the first time Joe'd been slightly normal. The first time you felt you'd had a normal chat, had both felt brave enough to apologise to each other, and hadn't been hindered by adverse winds.
The dance ended, people clapped and after a small welcome toast, everyone turned in their seats and the first dinner course was served.
Joe glanced at you from the corner of his eye and leant into you a little, indicating he was listening - waiting for your reaction to all of it.
"You're a weirdo," you said into your glass of wine right before taking a sip, and Joe smirked, because, yea, he really fucking was a weirdo.
For a while you fell in conversation with others at the table. The evening flowed from the first course to the main, after which Poppy's dad gave a toast. Cute words for the newly weds, honorary mentions of the female best man and the male maid of honour that got a laugh from the room, and then, you and Joe got to do your speeches.
Throughout Joe's speech, Poppy cried into the napkin that Mark dabbed at her face before she took it from him. Throughout yours, you could barely hold it together yourself and it made Mark get up to come and hug you. You finished the speech together as Mark held you and Poppy filmed you with her phone. Mark read along with an arm wrapped around you as you stuttered meaningful words into the microphone, both of you sniffling, crying messes.
You loved Mark.
And Mark had gotten married to the best girl.
When applause filled the room again, and every single female relative of Mark over the age of 45 had awed at the two of you, you rushed over to hug Poppy.
You loved Poppy too, almost just the same. So you told her, spoke it into her hair, and it made her hug you tighter. Poppy hummed, and you expected her to say it back. Instead, she softly said, "We heard you in that closet," which squeezed a laugh right out of you and you scrunched noses at each other as you pulled back.
"You've got to tell me everything," Poppy said.
For a second you thought of denying it all. Considered pretending that you had no idea what she was talking about. But she looked so excited, all giddy at the prospect of you and Joe in a coat closet together. All she really knew was that you and Joe had kissed a couple weeks ago, and that Joe had done something that had upset you - that was it, no more details, at least that you were aware of.
"You stole the fucking rings from me," you said, and it confirmed enough, making Poppy squeal as she dug her fingers into your arms.
"So you made up? Are you okay?"
"Definitely still angry,"
"My God, what did his stupi–"
"Pop," Mark interrupted, and you thought it was because she was interfering. Like it was Mark's way of helping you out, because this was hardly something you were going to get into right now. Maybe even ever. But when you both looked at Mark, he pointed behind you at Poppy's father, because it was time for the father-daughter dance and it wasn't time to get worked up over something Joe had done a couple weeks ago when you had kissed him. Obviously.
You took Poppy's seat and sat next to Mark as you watched Poppy dance with her father, and it was weirdly emotional. It made your throat swell and hurt, but you managed to keep it all in there.
"So, was Poppy right, then?" Mark suddenly asked.
You blinked at him a second.
"About you and Joe?"
Mark's face gave away nothing about his intent, so you figured he just wanted to know. No judgment.
"I had the rings, didn't I?" was all you said, a small smile playing on your face as your crossed leg swung under the table. A slow grin grew over Mark's face as he frowned.
"The fuck you not telling me shit for? How long as this been going on?"
All you managed was a huffed laugh as your eyes found Mark's mother coming up behind him, and you smacked his shoulder before saying, "Is there not a mother-son dance that you're meant to be a part of?"
You knew it hadn't been scheduled in.
But you also knew what Mark's mother was like.
Seconds later, Mark and his mum joined Poppy and her dad and you leant your head into both of your hands, elbows resting up on the table and across the floor, you saw Joe.
He was also watching his friends, head perched on his fist as he leant an arm on the back of his chair.
Joe's real pretty, you thought. Did he look different to you now that you knew?
Yea.
Kind of.
Wait. He really kind of did.
Looked less like a distant, arrogant prick, maybe. Or perhaps he looked the same, but it was you who was seeing him in a different light now.
Joe must have felt your eyes on him, because you saw him shift uncomfortably in his seat and look around before his eyes found you. Joe looked right back at you, held your gaze, and for a moment you both had your heads resting on your hands and just... stared. Just admired. Looked right at each other, across the full length of the dance floor.
You were waiting for a smile to break across his face, but it never came. You thought maybe your mind should've been swirling with thoughts, but, it was eerily quiet up there. Just... look at him.
That man was in love with you?
Wild, honestly.
A visual deep breath from you got Joe to nod his head up at you, a small little raise of his chin, his eyes two big questionmarks, and he meant, what's up? You all right?
All you could really do was shrug as you shook your head a little, a small defeated smile below pinched eyebrows, and you meant, what the fuck are we going to do?
The song ended, people clapped, and then more people joined in to dance.
You kept eyes on each other, both skilled at keeping them trained in the exact right spot, no matter how many people broke the line of contact with their dancing bodies.
That was, until Poppy and Mark slid into your vision - not quite enough to make you break eye-contact, but enough to lean over and look from you, over to Joe, back to you again with shit-eating grins upon their faces.
They'd seen you look at each other and needed you to know that they had seen.
Mark made a face at you that made you want to punch him too hard on that divot between his bicep and tricep, where you could hit him right on a nerve.
Poppy started beckoning the both of you, wide arms waving for the both of you to meet on the dance floor, but before you could even properly think of how to react, the cake cutting was announced.
And Mark and Poppy were little shits.
Made you and Joe stand next to them, each holding a small glass plate, beautiful crystal, ready for them to cut two pieces of cake that they would feed each other and then you'd be ready to collect whatever chunks would be left in their hands.
You remembered how Poppy had been adamant, "If you smear any cake anywhere I'm immediately divorcing you, that's so fucking tacky," and Mark had laughed and argued that he the thought of pushing cake into her face hadn't even crossed his mind.
And Mark loved Poppy, and she trusted him. So there was no hesitation as they fed each other bites from larger chunks of cake that they held in their hands. And you were so ready with your little plate. So ready to be a good best man to Mark, to help him out, had a napkin in the other hand for him to wipe his hand on too.
Cameras flashed, people got pictures and videos of Poppy and Mark feeding each other and thank fuck, it was a clean ordeal. Just two small bites. No mess. Fantastic. Exactly what Poppy wanted.
But Mark and Poppy were little shits and they got you fast.
You and Joe ended up with cake smeared all over. There were shrieks and there was loud laughter and more cameras flashed, and there was buttercream in your eye, and you inhaled vanilla frosting way up into your nose which hurt. Marks hands got cake all over your face, and when he stopped to loudly laugh at his work, through a squinty eye you saw how Poppy got Joe worse.
Joe had cake all over his face, up in his hair and even down his suit.
"Poppy, stop! This is Gucci!" Joe cried out and it made you want to roll your eyes at him. Of course it was Gucci.
The napkin you'd been holding was about to wipe at your face, but Mark stopped you and pulled you in for a group shot with the four of you; you and Joe pushed together into the center, Mark and Poppy either side. Mark squished your cheeks with his one dirty cake hand and Poppy used hers to push against the side of Joe's head. It knocked his head nearly into yours and with the flash of the camera, both Mark and Poppy stepped away. Disappeared from your sides fast. Probably scared you were going to get them back.
And, oh man, you absolutely were going to get them back.
Later, though.
When they'd least expect it. Maybe do something dumb to their house whilst they were away on their honeymoon - you'd think of something.
"We should get new friends," Joe commented, gesturing for you to turn. Universal sign for, come on, follow me, to make it over to the bathrooms to get cleaned up.
"What do you mean? These ones fed us cake!" You joked, trying to pick icing from you eyelashes as you walked and it made Joe halt and drop his face at you.
"She missed my mouth!" he said pointedly, and you laughed as you pushed the swing door to the toilets before stepping inside. You blamed the sudden sense of privacy as you were no longer under the watchful eye of your best friends for what you said next.
"Impressive, that's a difficult mouth to miss,"
Joe narrowed his eyes at you as he studied your face. Your posture. It made him twitch inside his trousers. Was this going to go where he thought it might go?
Then, in the low light of the swanky dark hotel bathroom you were in, you reached a hand over and wiped a thumb across Joe's cheek all the way to the corner of his mouth. It pulled at his lips as you flicked it, scooping up buttercream and bits of cake from his face in between your index finger and thumb that you then brought to your mouth.
Yes, Joe thought. This was absolutely going to go where he thought it might go, and looking at you sucking your digits clean made him audibly groan.
Joe dropped his head and had to focus on breathing.
Inhale. Hold. Exhale.
Deep breaths always helped.
Except, not really. Not this time, anyway. Why was the image of you covered in wedding cake making his dick hard?
Joe had to use a clean hand to adjust himself in his trousers. You saw.
"Yea? You want to finish what you started?" you smirked, eyes twinkling.
And Joe couldn't fucking believe what he was hearing. His eyebrows shot up, and he immediately tried to reason, "There's cake all over this Gucci suit," but he was already leaning in, fingers reaching for your mouth, his body fully betraying him, because how could it decline the invitation?
Joe's kisses tasted like wedding cake. Sickly sweet, vanilla and white chocolate, all sticky and... distant. Joe was leaning over as much as he could, kept his body as far away as possible whilst still making sure his mouth got want it wanted from you.
Joe was trying to stay clean and you weren't having it. It made you pull at him, and it made him lose his jacket.
It was gross, and you had to breathe through your mouth because there was cake up in your nose, but you kind of loved it and started pushing Joe back into a stall.
Joe let you, locking the door behind you before he continued, and you knew posh little clean pristine Joey probably had thoughts and opinions about getting dirty in the toilets of a hotel, swanky or not. But then Joe said, "This cake tastes good," when he licked some off your face and followed up with, "Best way to taste test," whilst you started gathering the fabric of your dress at the hips, slowly inching it upwards.
And like you had asked of him, Joe finished what he started in your kitchen a couple of weeks ago.
Got his big hands, those thick fingers, in all the places you wanted them. Got his mouth there too – he had to, couldn't stop himself. Got frosting all over your neck and all up between your thighs and it was the exact opposite of what you had come in there to do.
Joe had you whimpering and moaning when he eventually slid inside you, face to face this time, pressed up against the stall door, no more distance, and fuck, this was so much better.
You weren't exactly quiet, so he tried to stifle the noises escaping you by scooping frosting from your face into your mouth, which made you laugh, which in turn made him growl, "Oh my God, shit," because that felt fucking amazing.
You had to stop momentarily when you heard someone come in. Had to freeze on the spot, Joe deep inside you, big eyes looking at each other, and it felt a little like you were back in that coat closet. Too close to each other. Barely breathing. Hiding.
It just turned you on more.
Whoever had walked in muttered something about Joe's suit jacket that was on the floor, picked it up and then walked out with it. Presumably to go and find him. Was that Mark?
"Quick," you whispered, not wanting to get caught, and Joe said, "All right, yea, laugh again, come on," which wasn't a joke, but it still made you laugh.
Walking back into the wedding, wiped clean of all the wedding cake and with absolutely nothing running down your inner thighs, you realised you'd missed the bouquet toss. You didn't mind, but you knew you were probably going to get some shit from Poppy for it later.
To remain as unsuspicious as you could, Joe entered half a minute later but then immediately got you a drink, and came to stand beside you. You watched the dance floor for a second, both with drinks in hand, both not sure what to do or what to even say to each other.
What the fuck was your life right now?
Two sudden heavy hands landed on your shoulders, and it was Mark, startling you before he pulled you onto the dance floor with him. You were only just able to quickly pass your glass to Joe who swiftly took it from you before you disappeared into the crowd of dancing couples.
You expected Mark to mention it.
To at least say something about it.
But then he didn't, and you fucking loved him for it.
This is why you and Mark were the friends that you were. Anyone else would've said something, would've commented, joked, would have poked fun.
Not Mark.
Mark just wanted to dance with his best friend, his best man, at his wedding and you could tell he was well on his way to getting drunk because his eyes were half the size they usually were.
"I know I always say that you don't deserve Poppy, because she's too good for you,"
"She is," Mark agreed and smiled at you.
"No, I was wrong. I think you're the perfect fit. Exactly right for each other,"
You saw Mark look over your shoulder, and his eyes went all droopy and lovesick. You knew he had to be looking at Poppy.
His wife.
A quick check proved you right, and you saw Poppy dance with Joe and fuck. Why was Joe looking at her like that? All soft and sweet, like he was the one who had just married her instead of Mark?
In a flash you realised it. And...
Oh no.
Envy.
That was envy?! Shit. Had that been envy this whole fucking time?!
"What's up?" Mark asked, a little confused at what he'd just seen across your face.
"Nothing," you were quick, tried to hide all of it with a smile.
"What?" Mark persisted and you sighed, all deep and heavy, turning back to look at Joe who was still looking at Poppy like the sun shone out of her ass as they slowly swayed to the music together.
"No, it's... it's not– why does he look at her like that?"
Mark blinked at you.
"Sorry?"
"No, never mind, it's stupid, let's not–" you backtracked immediately.
"Oh my God," Mark exclaimed and then laughed loudly, head thrown back before he let it slump forward.
"I might as well have fucking married you today, what the actual fuck, you're– it is true! You and Poppy are literally the same person, it's so– this is so creepy!"
And yes, okay, it was a little creepy that, when Mark and Poppy had just started dating, Poppy apparently had asked Mark about why he would look at you like you were the reason he was even alive to begin with. Mark told you she would still sometimes bring it up when they argued, and Mark would always say, "I don't know! I love her! I can't help what my eyes do!" and Poppy would shout, "That's weird Mark, I am your girlfriend!"
It humbled you real fast.
It had never occurred to you what you and Mark looked like when you communicated with just looks. With eyes and subtle facial changes and this stupid spark of jealousy, which you now recognised was exactly what that was, made you want to go hug Poppy.
So that's what you did.
You took rushed steps and then pried yourself in between Joe and Poppy to hug her.
"My girls," you heard Mark say, but he was quick to correct himself and followed it up with, "Our girls."
Made you want to give him a black eye.
But then Poppy mused, "Our boys." and it kind of felt exactly right.
"My wife," Mark continued, using the offensive Borat accent, and Poppy replied, "My husband," in a Russian accent, the h pronounced as a hard g, because why not. Before you knew it they were making out all gross again, like they had down at the bar where you'd met after the hen do and stag do.
"Yeaaa, why not?" Joe said under his breath, nose all scrunched up.
"You said something about getting new friends?" you joked, and it made Mark find the side of your head to push you away. You laughed as you nearly lost your balance, and Joe laughed as he reached out both arms to make sure that you didn't.
"Come on, let's dance,"
And it was all fun and games getting Joe to make you come on his mouth in a toilet stall before he railed you, but you still had questions. Were still mad for him leaving you in your kitchen without explanation.
Learning that Joe had been having feelings for you just confused you more.
So you danced as you held onto each other because that's how everyone else was dancing, and you decided the moment was another one for you to steal.
"Why did you leave that night?"
Joe took in your question and slowly inhaled through flared nostrils.
"You just walked right out,"
It was the worst thing he could've ever done and he was an idiot, Joe agreed. Good, you thought. At least you were on the same page about it. Joe revealed how learning of how you and Mark had become friends had thrown him for a loop, because there he was, head over heels and finally getting to know you better. Spending more time with you. Granting himself normal human interactions that he hadn't been able to afford himself before you'd been given this job together. And then there you were, telling him how traumatic it had been that guys always seemed to want more from you.
More.
Like Joe wanted more.
Joe couldn't be one of those guys. Didn't want to add to your hurt. And you were also both drunk, and had been shouting at each other in a bar, and that wasn't how he had wanted any of that to go. But, he was still an idiot, and he should have never left.
You nodded and agreed.
"Yes, you are an idiot, and you should have never left... but that's also weirdly considerate,"
"Well, you have been calling me weird behind my back a lot, or so I've heard,"
Big sigh.
Mark and Poppy were not to be trusted.
"Listen…" you chose to ignore what Joe'd just accused you of. "I feel very tender about little teenage me. Fourteen-year-old me felt a lot, did everything with all of her feelings. Went through life feelings first, thoughts second. Out of everyone, out of everything, she makes me cry the most… but I’m not her. Not anymore. I’ve not been her in over a decade, I’m not– I'm not fragile like that anymore, I’m tough now!"
The way Joe had been looking at you as you talked was the same way he'd always look at Poppy... but, times twenty.
Head tilted to the side, eyes half-lidded, a slow smile pulling at his cheeks – and, all right, if this was the type of shit Joe had done his best to hide from you all this time, why he made sure to stay unapproachable and cold, you kind of understood.
"Okay," was all Joe said through a wide smile.
"Okay?"
"Yea. Okay."
So, it was okay.
And when Poppy and Mark passed you, she peeked over Joe's shoulder and asked you again, "Did he apologise? Are you all good now?" and by ways of answering her, you bit into Joe's shoulder. It meant, not entirely. Not yet. But I think we will be.
It made Joe chuckle and pull you close, taking your face into his hands and pressing slow kisses onto each one of your eyelids. It nearly made your knees buckle, and that's when he said it.
Blurted it right out.
Soft enough for only you to hear, but somehow still threateningly loud, because the words rung in your ears.
"I love you."
It hitched your breath immediately.
"No, that's too soon,"
"It's been years,"
Yea, for Joe, maybe. But it had only been, what, eight hours for you. You agreed then and there that if you were going to do this, you were going to do this slow.
Do things slow to get them right.
Like normal people would do.
And sure, normal people wouldn't have the same starting point the two of you had, but it was whatever. Joe could pretend. You told Joe to ignore how he'd just eaten you out whilst you were both covered in cake and got him all flustered as he shushed you, afraid people would hear.
You said Joe could think crazy things. Things like I love you and that, but he couldn't actually say it. Not out loud anyway. Not for you to hear. You didn't care what he told Poppy about you. That was none of your business.
Yes.
You were going to do this sensibly, astutely and normally.
But, then, you weren't really normal people, were you?
Because all throughout that first week, in just those seven days, there had been moments where you'd thought those words too.
When you'd been on your way out on Tuesday morning after staying the night, and had to walk past Joe who was putting that picture of him and Poppy back up in his hallway, except now a new larger frame held the unfolded version that had you and Mark in as well.
And then again when you'd come over on Thursday for dinner, and Joe opened the door in blue jeans, bare feet and a white T-shirt that had a hole just below the collar.
A hole.
You thought you'd never see the day.
And then a couple of hours ago, when you'd been over at Mark and Poppy's for drinks, and they'd pulled out a game to play. It was you and Mark against Poppy and Joe, and whereas Mark and Poppy got ruthlessly competitive, you noticed Joe was doing everything in his power to sabotage the game, making you win.
It's just that you'd decided you weren't just going to blurt it out willy nilly, all haphazardly. Especially not after Joe got you all comfortable in his bed, massaged your shoulders, your back, your legs and then your ass before he'd undressed you fully and made you feel like you were the most important thing in his life right now.
No.
You were keeping those words in for a stupid moment.
Like when you'd catch him digging dirt from under his fingernails whilst trying to be all sly about it.
Or when he'd pretend he didn't mind that you left his kitchen all dirty, but then casually went to clean the entire room straight away.
Or when he'd wake up in a panic when he slept through an alarm, knowing that if you'd say it then, it'd only make him later to whatever he was already late for.
You didn't know. But you'd think of something.
And you were lucky, because there was something grounding, something very secure about knowing that the person who you would say it to wouldn't hesitate to say it back. Would probably repeat it a thousand times then if he could. Kiss you on your eyelids again to make you swoon.
Joe fell asleep that night with you on your side of his bed and you played with his hand until you heard soft snores beside you. What had been so weird before had grown to be just right in the span of just a few days.
And it was all right.
Because Joe was in love with you, and you were in love with Joe.
And that was all that mattered.
the end
---
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This is the Story
Chapter 12: The End
A/N: We've finally reached the end of this beautiful saga. I hope you have all enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I'm not sure I'll be able to fully give them up, so there may be an epilogue coming, but only time will tell.
I'm so thankful for everyone who has helped me along the way with this one, but I'm eternally grateful to my besties @ccab and @elvisfatass for all their love and encouragement. You two mean so much to me.
Need to catch up? Here is my Masterlist.
Warnings: angst, sadness, depression, and then the smutty fun stuff, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, also mentions of pregnancy and periods
Word count: 4.7kish
The depth of their misery is equaled only by their love for each other.
******
By sundown, Grace has packed everything in her car, including a crying Wendy.
"Mama, why do we have to leave Daddy? I like it here." She asks from the back seat, sniffling.
"I'm sorry, sweetie. We just have to go home."
"This is our home." Grace strokes Wendy's hair through the car window.
"I'm sorry, baby." She turns to look back at the house. She hasn't seen Elvis since she finished packing in the bedroom. She wonders if she should find him to say goodbye or if she should let him be. She goes back up to the bedroom one last time to the pile of things she left on the bed. She's left the boots he bought, the book, her necklace with his initials, and a few other things he's given her. She stands there with more tears on her face, looking at the pile. At the last second, she grabs the necklace. She can't leave it. She turns to walk out of the room and finds him there in the doorway.
"Grace, please don't leave."
"You know I don't have a choice."
"I'm not going to stop loving you. My heart is yours. If you ever change your mind, I'll be here."
"Elvis, please." As she goes to walk past him, he grabs her and holds her against him one last time. She melts into him, shoulders quaking as she cries on his chest.
"Honey, don't leave. We can figure this out together." He whispers into her hair. She almost gives in, wanting nothing more than to stay with him. But she can't forget about Wendy. Everything she does is for her and her good.
She pulls away from him and looks into his face.
"Kiss me goodbye."
"No. I refuse to believe this is goodbye." She looks at her feet.
"Then I have to go." She walks past him and down the stairs to the car out front. He leans against the doorframe and shakes as the tears stream down his face. He should've given her that last kiss. He tries to catch her before she leaves. But when he gets downstairs and to the driveway she's already gone.
******
He spends the rest of the day in bed. When the Colonel comes to visit the next day, he drags himself down the stairs.
"You've got a lotta nerve showing up here."
"My boy, I was only trying to protect-"
"You're fired."
"Now, my boy-"
"Get out of my house. And don't come back. You're fired. I don't care what I owe you. I'm done."
"You know it's a lot-"
"I SAID I DON'T CARE. GET OUT. I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN, YOU FUCKING BASTARD." He moves toward the Colonel menacingly.
"Don't do anything you'll regret..." The colonel tries to back away slowly, reaching for the door handle behind him.
"I'll regret my association with you for as long as I live. You've lost me the only woman I've ever truly loved. I suggest you leave before I find a gun."
The Colonel backs through the door, shaking his head, and leaves. Elvis slams the door behind him and sinks to the floor again. Jerry comes to his side.
"Come on, boss." He half carries him back up the stairs to the bedroom, where Elvis lays on the bed.
"Don't bother me until I say so."
"Yes, sir." Jerry watches with a look of concern as he backs out of the room. He's never seen Elvis like this before.
******
Almost two weeks later, Grace is still moping around her apartment. She takes Wendy to school everyday, but that's the extent of her ability to do anything. One day, there's a knock on her door. Her heart leaps. Somewhere inside her, she hopes it's Elvis. When she opens the door, though, she finds Maryann.
"What are you doing here?"
"We haven't heard from you since Christmas. And then I saw this." She tosses a tabloid on the counter. It's a picture of Elvis with a headline about him going back to Vegas early.
"Why aren't you with him?" Grace is lost in thought. The only thing she can see is that he has on her initial necklace in the photo. He's still wearing it. "Grace?"
"We broke up."
"Why?"
"My editor said I had to end things with him or I would be fired."
"And you chose your job? What the hell, Grace?"
"How would I take care of Wendy? If he left me?"
"You really think he would do that?"
"I don't know anymore." Maryann shakes her head. She can see now that her sister is broken by this decision. She decides not to push it any further.
"Well, I'm here. And I'm staying for a while. When was the last time you ate?"
"I don't know. My stomach hasn't been great lately."
"I'm making you some food." She starts to fiddle with pots and pans.
"No chicken. I can't eat chicken." Maryann stops.
"Grace. When was your last period?" Grace turns to her with a look of panic. She hadn't even noticed.
"I'm not sure."
"Because the last time you couldn't eat chicken..."
******
The first of February is Lisa Marie's 6th birthday. Priscilla brings her to Vegas for a party with Elvis and the rest of their friends.
He almost breaks down when Lisa's first question is about Wendy and Grace. Still, he swallows his feelings and slaps on a smile, explaining to her that they won't be there. She's sad, but after she sees the pile of her presents, she cheers up significantly.
He does his best to be happy all day for his baby girl, and he's pretty sure he's doing a decent job, but anyone who knows him can tell something is wrong. Priscilla walks over to Jerry about half way through the party.
"What's wrong with him?"
"With Elvis?"
"Yes. He's not himself."
"Grace left."
"And he's this messed up about it?" Priscilla raises her eyebrows.
"Priscilla, it's been almost a month and he's still broken. I don't know what to do." Jerry shrugs in frustration and Priscilla looks at Elvis across the room with Lisa.
"I'm sure he'll be better soon. He just needs a new girl." Jerry nods, but he's not sure he agrees.
******
By that first week in February, Grace has an appointment with her doctor, but she won't get the test results for another week or so. She's trying to go about her life as usual, but nothing is the way it should be. She misses Elvis every day so much that it hurts. And she still hasn't had a period. It was nice to have Maryann's company for a while, but she couldn't stay too long with the kids at home.
One day, after dropping Wendy off at school, the phone rings.
"Grace, it's Jerry. You have to come to Vegas."
"What? Why?"
"He's dying without you. He plays his shows like he's supposed to, but nothing is helping. When he's not on stage, he's in bed. He won't come to parties or anything. We've tried everything." Her heart sinks. She knew she was miserable, but she assumed he had moved back to his Vegas life and forgotten about her.
"I can't come back, Jerry. I appreciate you calling me, but I can't fix this."
"Please, Grace. He needs you." The last part makes her heart break in two. She didn't think it was possible to hurt any more for him, but she was wrong.
"I can't. I'm sorry. Tell him- nothing. Don't tell him you talked to me. I'm sorry." They hang up and Grace sits on the floor of her apartment weeping. Will this ever hurt any less?
******
In Vegas, the Memphis mafia guys continue doing everything in their power to get Elvis back to some semblance of himself. One night after a show, Jerry takes the initiative and brings a girl to him. She's young, blonde, beautiful, and everything Elvis used to like. He really hopes this will get him out of his funk.
He knocks and Elvis opens the door slowly. He's already in his pajamas and robe, despite the party that rages downstairs in his honor.
"What do you want, Jerry?"
"I brought you some company." He gestures to the girl, who waves nervously.
"Jerry, I'm really not-"
"Will you just try? Look at her. Come on, boss. You're going to have to move on at some point." He nods as though he's defeated and opens the door for her to come in and then shuts it behind her. Jerry says a quick prayer that this will work before he walks away.
Inside the room, Elvis gestures for the girl to sit on the couch.
"What's your name, doll?" He can't call her honey. He just can't.
"I'm Linda. It's nice to meet you." She is very attractive and he knows he should try.
"Why don't you come sit a little closer to me." He pats the couch right next to him and she scoots into his shoulder. He puts his hand on her knee and then looks down into her face. He tries with everything inside him not to think of Grace as he leans in and presses his lips against hers.
Suddenly, he pulls back and stands up. He feels like he might be sick.
"I'm sorry. I can't do this." She looks at him puzzled.
"Am I not-"
"It's not you. I just... I'm in love with someone else." He hangs his head and she stands up. When she puts her hand on his shoulder, the dam breaks. He sits back down on the couch with his head in his hands weeping. The girl looks at him awkwardly and then sits down on the couch too.
"Do you... do you wanna tell me about it?" Before he can stop it the words just start pouring out of him.
"I've never loved anyone the way I love her. She's the love of my life. But she doesn't believe that I'll be faithful. She doesn't trust me. And it's my own goddamn fault." The girl is shocked to see him so broken. He always seems so strong and in control on stage. She never dreamed he would have this depth of emotion.
"It sounds like you need to show her you're serious. Most women just want some security, especially if they've been hurt before." He looks up at her, eyes red and puffy.
"Security?"
"Yeah. She needs to know you mean what you say. Words are great but action is better."
"Action."
"Mhmm." She nods her head, glad that he's finally stopped crying. "How far are you willing to go for her?"
"I want to marry her."
"Then you gotta tell her that."
"What if she says no?"
"That's a risk you're going to have to take if you mean what you're saying." He nods slowly and pats her hand.
"Thank you, Linda. I'm sorry this didn't go how you planned."
"It's okay. I hope it goes well for you." They stand up and he walks her to the door.
On the elevator ride down, she and Jerry are both silent. Jerry can tell by the way Elvis looked that his plan failed. He's wracking his brain for what to do next. And she's still reeling from the conversation she just had with Elvis Presley.
******
Grace sits in the meeting with Frank, praying he can't tell that she's spent most of the morning crying.
"This manuscript is beautiful, Grace."
"Mhmm."
"We're looking at a publication date in the next month." Grace takes a deep breath.
"You can't publish it."
"Grace..."
"You just can't. I'm saying no."
"You know the higher ups won't like that."
"I don't care. Fire me. I'll find a new job."
"Grace."
"I'm done, Frank."
"You really loved him, didn't you?" Grace looks at the ceiling, trying to keep her tears in her eyes. "You still do."
"I can't have my name on this book. Publish it under a different author. I can't do this anymore."
"Well. We're no longer working with his manager. Elvis told us to publish the book only if you want to." Her heart leaps and she looks up at Frank with a flicker of hope.
"What happened to the Colonel?"
"He said he fired him."
"So... you don't have to publish it?"
"Not unless you want us to."
"No. Please don't." Frank looks at her sadly.
"Finish your novel, Grace. I'll keep you on a contract for just that project. Once it's done, that'll be the end of our professional relationship. You're fired." She nods and gathers her things.
******
After the shows in Vegas end, Elvis seems to get a second wind of sorts. He spends his afternoons looking for something around town. Jerry and the rest of the Memphis mafia breathe more easily, hoping this marks the end of his depression over Grace. Maybe he's finally decided to move on and is ready to get back to himself before he leaves for tour in a couple of weeks.
On the third day after he finishes playing shows, he seems to find what he's looking for. He sits by the phone in his suite anxiously fiddling with the small box. He keeps picking up the phone and putting it back down. His stomach flip-flops every other second and his palms are sweating. When he can't sit still any longer he stands up and paces for a bit, always coming back to his seat by the phone.
Finally, when he just can't take it anymore, he picks up the receiver.
"Fuck it." He dials quickly and waits as the phone rings, his heart lodged in his throat.
"Hello?" Even just the sound of her voice comforts him in a way he hasn't felt in months.
******
"Hi Grace." Her heart stops cold. It's him. She's spent the days since she got fired trying to come up with an excuse to go to Vegas, but she just couldn't get up the nerve. And now he's calling her.
"Elvis." She responds breathlessly.
"I want you to come to Vegas."
"When?"
"As soon as you can." She glances at the calendar. Today is the 12th of February. Her doctor appointment to get the test results is tomorrow.
"I can be there on the 14th."
"Valentine's Day. That's perfect." She didn't even think about the fact that it would be Valentine's Day. Perfect for what?
"Don't bring Wendy. I want it to just be us. Can you swing that?"
"I'll call Paulette."
"Okay, well, I-I-I guess I'll see you then." The thought of seeing her again brings out his nervous stutter. "Grace?"
"Yes?" She doesn't know what to say, but she doesn't want to hang up either.
"I miss you, honey." Her heart melts and the tears gather in her eyes.
"I miss you too." There's so much more to say, but neither of them can bring themselves to say it.
******
After he hangs up, Elvis breathes a sigh of relief. She agreed to come to Vegas. He knows this may not mean anything, but for the first time in months, he has some hope. He puts the box in his pocket and sets out to make the arrangements.
******
The next day, Grace sits in her car in the parking lot of her doctor's office crying hysterically.
The test confirmed what she was too terrified to contemplate as a reality.
She's pregnant.
As the tears stream down her face, a million thoughts run around her mind. Just when she thought she had a chance of getting Elvis back, this happens. Surely, he won't want anything to do with her now. And even if he does, it'll only be out of obligation.
She doesn't have a job. It's hard enough trying to support Wendy. How will she raise and care for two children on her own?
Maybe she'll invent a dead husband to explain why she has two children with no man. She shakes her head at that thought.
And what will this do for Elvis's image? What if it gets out that this is his baby? Should she even tell him?
She holds her head in her hands and continues weeping. How will she face him tomorrow?
******
Elvis paces nervously in his suite. She's here in the hotel. He sent Jerry to the airport to pick her up an hour ago with a message to meet him downstairs at 7. He's actually going to take her to a real restaurant for dinner. He no longer cares if anyone sees them together. In fact, he hopes there are pictures in magazines after tonight. Every few minutes, he pats his pocket to make sure the box is still there.
He's dressed in the velvet jacket again, this time with a white silk shirt under it, unbuttoned enough for her to see that he's wearing the initial necklace. A cigarillo hangs from his mouth and he keeps running his hand through his hair, so it's especially fluffy. He's trying to recreate the feeling of New Year's Eve, since it's the last time they were really happy together, but he's not sure he's succeeded.
Finally, he looks at the clock and it's five til. He can head downstairs and not look like he's too desperate. When the elevator opens, he looks around anxiously. He spots her standing uneasily in the lobby. She's looking around for him too, her dark hair pulled into a low bun, purse tucked up under her arm. She has on the black dress she wore for Halloween. His eyes drift slowly over her body as the dress hugs her curves perfectly. He wants to touch her so badly it hurts. When he can't stand it anymore, he walks over to her and resists the urge to wrap his arms around her.
"Hi honey." She turns to face him, obviously nervous too.
"Oh hi!"
"Should we... go?" She nods and he leads her through the lobby to the parking garage where his car is waiting. He wants tonight to be as normal as possible, so he's driving his own car.
They make small talk as he drives the short distance to the restaurant. It's clear that they're not sure how to approach their reunion. Neither wants to be the first one to take the conversation into deeper territory. Yet they're both sitting on secrets that will require a real talk at some point.
At the restaurant, they're seated at a private table in the back. He pulls her chair out for her and softly grazes her shoulder she sits. His touch is electric and they both shiver with the contact.
They eat, talking about everything and nothing. He tells her about firing the Colonel and she tells him about being fired for not publishing the book. At last, they sit there with nothing to distract them and they both know the time has come. He clears his throat, assuming he's the only one with a confession.
"Grace, I asked you to come here for a reason."
"Elvis, wait-"
"No, I need to say this. I love you, Grace. I'm barely half a person without you. I can't live-"
"Elvis, I'm pregnant." His mouth drops open and Grace's mind runs wild. She's pretty sure he's about to backtrack on everything he just said.
"I'm sorry I just blurted it out like that, but I feel like you needed to know before you made some big declaration." He closes his mouth and sits quietly, his heart pounding as he reaches into his pocket. "Anyway, so now you know. I don't expect anything from you. I've had a baby out of wedlock before, I can do it again-"
"No. You won't." He sets the box on the table and opens it. Inside is a 8 carat emerald cut diamond engagement ring. Now it's Grace's turn to be speechless. He slides out of his chair and onto one knee beside her with the ring box in his hand.
"Grace, I have loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. You are the other half of my soul and I've been searching for you for as long as I can remember. Everything about you is music and poetry and you amaze me every day. You are the only woman I want for the rest of my life. Please let me love you forever. Marry me, Grace Dubois."
"Yes." She whispers it, unable to summon any more words. And besides, that's the only one that really matters. The smile that spreads across his face could light up a million dark rooms and he pulls the ring out of the box and slides it onto her finger. Without another thought, she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a deep and passionate kiss. Then, he kisses her cheek and they embrace.
"I love you, Elvis. God, I love you so much." She laughs as the tears slide down her cheeks and he pulls back, cupping her face in his hands.
"Oh, Grace. I'm so excited for this life with you, for our child, for our family. I've never been this happy before."
"Me neither. I'm just so glad you're happy about the baby." He stands up and goes back to his chair, pulling it closer to hers so he can keep hold of her hand.
"Of course, honey. The girls need another sibling. I love that we will have one that is part of both of us." He kisses her hand. Then, he looks around.
"Hey, you know where we are?"
"Vegas?"
"We could get married tonight." His eyes sparkle with excitement and she laughs.
"We could."
"Why not?"
"I honestly can't think of a single damn reason."
They laugh together and head out of the restaurant hand in hand.
******
Elvis and Grace make it to a chapel before the paparazzi find them, but the way out is crowded with cameras. Elvis doesn't care. He holds up her hand to show off the ring and tells anyone who'll listen that he's happily married. Grace is shy at first, but his energy is contagious and before long, she's the perfect picture of a blushing bride. They kiss one last time for the cameras before he helps her into the car and they drive away, laughing and waving.
******
Back at the International, they maintain decorum only as far as the elevator. Once the doors begin to close, they turn and wrap around each other passionately, mouths pressed together with tongues dancing wildly. He slides his hands back to her ass and rolls his hips into her. She moans into his mouth and he kisses down her neck to her cleavage, running his tongue along the edge of her dress.
When the doors finally open, they tumble out of the elevator together to the door of his suite. He presses her body against the door with his own and she nibbles on his earlobe as he fiddles with the key. They roll into the room together, kicking off shoes and shedding clothing left and right. By the time they make it to the bedroom, they're both naked.
He lays her gently on the bed and kisses down her body to her stomach. He kisses just below her bellybutton and looks up at her softly. She knows he's thinking about the baby that's settled there for the moment. But he quickly switches gears and moves down lower on her body. He kisses the inside of each thigh before he presses his mouth to her center and she moans loudly, arching her back. He moves his tongue in circles over and around her most sensitive spot. He was always skilled, but in the time they've been together he's learned her body and knows exactly how to make her crazy. He slides first one finger and then two inside her and begins to move them against her as she squirms. He continues to move his tongue in a way that causes her to cry out his name. He knows exactly what she wants and he gives it to her until the waves of ecstatic pleasure wash over her again and again and she runs her fingers through his hair. He kisses back up her body and lines his cock up with her entrance. When he pushes into her slowly, they groan together at the sensation of him sliding into her tight pussy. She takes all of him easily, almost as though she was made for him to fill her up. He fucks into her, kissing her shoulder and neck and cheek.
"God, honey, I missed you so much. You feel so good." He says, his voice a husky whisper. She moans into his mouth as he pounds his hips against hers.
"I love you so much. Don't stop. Don't ever stop."
"Honey, that ring on your finger is a promise that I won't." He leans in and kisses her deeply, all the while filling her rhythmically with his cock.
She pushes him onto his back and settles between his legs. He loves it when she takes control like this. He never dreamed he would, but there's something about the way their love is a give and take that drives him wild.
Holding the base of him in one hand, she sinks her mouth down onto him, rolling his foreskin back so that the sensitive head hits the back of her throat.
"Oh, fuck, honey." He moans loudly and throws his head back. She continues to work, running her tongue up the bottom of his shaft and licking small circles around him. She's learned his body too and it's obvious by how she makes him come undone.
When he's approaching the edge, she stops and pulls back. He whimpers and aligns her hips with his desperately. He's so close to his release and it's been so long that he feels like he might burst. She slips him into her slowly and then lets him drive into her from underneath. He holds her tight to his chest with both arms while he fucks her, grabbing the back of her hair and pulling her in for deep kisses.
Before too long, he slams into her one last time, filling her with warmth as he shudders and pulses inside her. Neither of them expected her to tumble over the edge with him, but she does, the heat from her orgasm exploding from her center, muffling her hearing and coursing through her like wildfire. They lay there together panting and sweating for a moment. Then, she pulls off of him and settles in the crook of his arm, her fingers making circles in his chest hair. He's the first one to speak.
"I think I can handle doing that forever."
"You better! Not much choice now." They laugh and he rolls over to face her, bringing her fingers to his lips, suddenly serious.
"I know we said vows at the chapel, but I'm making another one to you now. I promise to always love you like this, even when it's hard. I promise to always try."
Her eyes glisten and she holds her hand to his cheek.
"I promise to trust you and believe in you with my whole heart. I love you, Elvis Presley. Always."
They settle in to sleep, finally secure in knowing there's no end to the nights they'll spend wrapped up in each other.
******
The first stop on his tour is Tulsa, so Paulette brings Wendy and they head to Grace's mom's house. The welcome they receive is warm and chaotic and their joy is undeniable. At first, Ruth is disappointed that they didn't have a big wedding, but the news of a new grandchild distracts her.
After several hours of family time, Elvis and Grace head to the hotel where they stayed for Thanksgiving, leaving Wendy to stay with her grandma again.
When they get to the door of their room, he stops her.
"Wait, I wanna carry you over the threshold." He scoops her into his arms.
"This is not our home, though?" She looks at him puzzled.
"Honey, my home is wherever you are." He kicks the door open and carries her inside, never looking back.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The End
Taglist:
@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @ashtag6887 @aliypop @your-nanas-house @dkayfixates @everythingelvispresley @xanatenshi @returntopresley @p0lksaladannie @deniseinmn @jaqueline19997 @that-hotdog @18lkpeters @joshuntildawn13 @rjmartin11 @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69
#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis presley#elvis fanfic#elvis smut#elvis#elvis presley fic#elvis fic#elvis fanfiction#elvis presley smut#elvis presley fanfic#elvis x oc#elvis presley x oc#grace dubois#this is the story#Spotify
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Bittersweet (epilogue)||k.mgyu + j.ww
Genre: neighbors to lovers, strangers to lovers, angst, smut
Warnings: fluff, they are sickeningly in L word, lowkey tension but they are so cute i can't
Summary: in which they all lived happily ever after
Word Count: 2.2k
series masterlist
_______________________________________________
Mingyu came home from university yesterday.
Of course, you're only finding out right now. Your name was just called so you could go up and receive your diploma. When you got up, eople cheered and clapped, but one voice was much louder than the rest.
You looked to the crowd and your heart rate picked up immediately. You could spot him even in the large pool of bodies. He towered over them and was cheering so obnoxiously loud. He was seated next to your family and even from a distance you could tell he was smiling.
You nearly tripped when you went to receive your diploma. Your heart continued to beat out your chest, he came to see you on your big day.
He's here. He's really here.
He's flown in plenty of times, Thanksgiving, winter break, spring break, but now he'll be home for the whole summer. And next time he leaves, you'll be going with him.
For the most part at least.
You're not going to the same school for university, however your schools are basically right across the street from one another. While you did love Mingyu, you didn't want to base your future entirely around him, especially when it came to your education. This way, you two could still be close while independently pursuing your own education.
The breaks he's visited for have been nice, but entirely too short. All the times he's come home it's been picnics, walks around the neighborhood and sneaky kisses.
When he came home from winter break, your families took a weekend trip up in a cabin to go skiing. He taught you how to snowboard and snuck into your bed to keep you warm every night.
When he came home most recently during spring break, he spent every single day with you. He took you on walks to the pond to feed the ducks and on midnight drives into the city.
It was always hard to say goodbye when he left, but you knew he'd be home again soon. He'd always come back to you.
You accept the printed document, heading back to your seat anxiously. He knows that you know he's here. Your heart swells when you think about him. You're restless in your seat for the remainder of the ceremony.
There still wasn't a label on your relationship. He knew you were his and that he was yours. And he made sure it was known even in university.
Obviously Mingyu caught the eye of many girls back at school, but he no longer entertained the attention he received. He was polite, but made sure it was known that he 'had a girl back at home.'
He never gave you any reason to worry or doubt. He called and texted as much as he could while he was away. You'd often fall asleep on FaceTime together while you studied together. You looked forward to the random texts you'd receive from him while he was bored in one of his classes.
For you, school was so different without Mingyu and the boys. You kept to yourself more, much like before you'd befriended the guys. You focused on your academics, but you were content with your life. Things were good and you were happy.
By the time spring had come around again you were still managing the baseball team. Mingyu was always the first to hear about how each game went and all about the freshman who was the new starting pitcher you teased was better than him.
When the ceremony finally ends you're quick to search through the crowd of people for him. It's loud and everyone around you is celebrating. However, his height makes him easy to find.
He spots you from a distance and smiles. You feel your chest swell with joy. You nearly jump into his arms and he accepts you with open arms.
"Hey kid," he beams, wrapping his arms around your frame tightly. "I missed you."
You swear you could cry right now.
"I missed you too," you say into his chest.
His heart is beating so fast, you can hear it. It's beating so fast it just might be in sync with yours.
"I'm so proud of you," he kisses your forehead.
You pull away from the hug, looking up at him. He looks down at you with pure love filling his eyes. He's staring at his entire world right now and she looks beautiful.
Your heart stops when he looks at you. You don't think you'll every fully get used to this feeling. You've been seeing his face, stared into those brown orbs millions of times over the years yet now, your stomach does cartwheels and it feels like you can't breathe.
It scares you, but you love it.
He finally lets you go so you can have a moment with the rest of your families. His mother hands you a bouquet of flowers she claims Mingyu picked out as they congratulate you. Your mom offers to go out for a celebratory dinner, but you politely decline and tell her you'd rather go home.
__
You and Mingyu were quick to rush upstairs into your room as soon as you got home. You jumped onto the bed where he joined you and held you close.
The two of you talk for a while, cuddled up against one another. You two lay at the top of your bed, his arm around yours as you both sit up against the pillows resting against your headboard.
"The boys are all coming back soon," he tells you as he plays with your fingers.
"Really?" you perk up.
He nods. "Yeah, Hoshi texted and said he's flying in today and I know Josh got back like two days ago. And everyone else has been and is continuing to come home this week. We'll all have to get together soon."
"Yeah," you cuddle into his chest. "That would be nice. I missed being with all of you guys."
He plants a kiss on your forehead. "I know, they all miss you too."
You look up at him, admiring the features of his face. He looks down at you, scrunching his nose as you stare at him. Staring at him for seconds felt like hours with how you got lost in him.
"What?" he asks.
"You still haven't cut your hair," you comment, allowing your fingers to comb through his curls.
"You told me you liked it long," he shrugs.
You smile. "I do, it looks so good on you."
He licks his lips. "Then I'll never cut my hair again, just for you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he smirks.
He doesn't break eye contact, not for a second. You begin to feel hot under his gaze. He's staring at you silently, admiring and taking in all your features. Fuck, he's so close to you.
Your stomach is twisting in knots. His lips are so pretty and kissible, so close. He's so fucking tempting. But he stops himself before anything can happen.
He can see the flicker of disappointment in your eyes, but you understand. He doesn't want anything to happen until you're officially together, he wants to do things the right way with you.
__
All the boys were finally home now and insisting everyone hang out. The groupchat decided on a barbeque at Hoshi's and a swim in the lake once it got dark.
It felt good to catch up with the boys. You hadn't talked to them as much as you did Mingyu while they were away at school.
Wonwoo even came to the function. There was no bad blood or anythgin, but you kept your distance. He did talk to you for a bit, told you about how school was going for him, even mentioned something about the girl he'd been seeing.
You were happy for him, truly. Didn't want to relish too much of the past, especially when you had a six foot pitching futre ahead of you. Wonwoo and Mingyu didn't really talk either, they managed to keep it cordial with no tension.
Life was good.
You couldn't complain about anything. You ate good food and shared laughs with your friends. They've become like another family to you, and for that you'll always be grateful. You're glad things still feel normal despite everything that's happened in the past.
You knew for sure you'd found your soulmates.
__
Mingyu's been taking pictures of you under the stars. You all walked to the park to look at the night sky, but you looked so pretty Mingyu couldn't help himself.
The night has settled down, aside from Dino and Minghao who seem to be chasing each other around the park.
You've finally come to join him, sitting down next to him on the blanket he has sprawled out on the grass.
"You cold?" he asks.
You shrug. "Not really"
He pulls off his jacket and wraps it around your body. "Yah, don't lie to me. You were shivering."
You giggle to yourself. "Thank you."
"Of course," he wraps his arms around your side, pulling you closer to him.
Your heartbeat is all kinds of abnormal right now. The night has become comfortably quiet, aside from the faint chatter and laughter of the other boys surrounding you.
You look up at the stars, admiring the view. The night sky is shining, stars illuminating the darkness above you. Your head lay on his shoulder and despite the beauty above him, the one beside his has all his attention.
He can taste the words on his tongue, all the things he wants to say to you. How you make him feel, how pretty you are, how much he loves you.
"Kid," he breathes out.
"Hmm?" you lift your head.
"I love you."
Your eyelids flutter at his sudden confession. You tilt your head so your eyes meet his.
"I love you too," you respond.
He smiles. "I know I told you this before, but I've felt this way about you since we were kids, before I could even understand what it was. And I've waited so many years to hear you say that, you've no idea how rewarding it is for me to hear that. However, I've waited too long for this,"
"For what?" you question.
"Will you be my girlfriend?" he asks.
There's not a single trace of hesitation in your voice. "Yes."
He's smiling so hard right now. Years and years of pining. Girlfriends, boyfriends, meaningless hookups, and so much confusion. It's been frustrating, but it paid off. You're really his now, his girlfriend.
He'd held back so much with you. He didn't want to rush into anything without being ready, needed the security you deserve. Aside from the few stolen kisses from the other times he was home, he wanted to be on his best behaviour. He wasn't going to be like his old self, he wanted to put his best foot forward for you. You deserve it.
Last time he called you his girlfriend, you were 7 told told him 'ew.' But now? You can't wipe that smile off your face.
He's quick to kiss you, His hand lay on your cheek, thumb rubbing small circles as your lips move against one another. There's fireworks setting off in your body. His lips are soft and pillowy, filling your body with warmth.
You were intoxicating and he didn't want to stop. You were wearing strawberry chaptsick, he could taste the sweetness as he kissed you. You followed his movements like a mirror, kissing him back with just as much passion and love.
Your breathing turned shallow and you pressed your body closer against his. The heat of his breath agaisnt your lips was making a fire run rampant through your blood. Something fluttered in your stomach when he kissed you, it felt like you were floating.
You'd never been kissed like this before, not even by Mingyu himself.
And damn, did it feel good.
It's crazy how different it feels to kiss him now that you've come to terms with your feelings. Everything is so much mroe authentic and passionate.
He finally pulled away for breath, both of you panting softly with smiles that were hard to hide. He pecked your lips a few times before finally giving you space. Your head felt like it was spinning and you were sure you'd fall over if you stood up.
"Oh my gosh," you breathe out.
He licks his lips quickly. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of that."
You let out a breathy chuckle, allowed your head to fall back onto his shoulder. "Me either."
It felt like you were on cloud 9 and you never wanted to come down.
He laughs to himself before nudging you lightly with his shoulder. "You like-like me."
You scrunch your nose, pushing him lightly. "You idiot, we're way past that."
He pulls your entire body into his arms. "You like–like me!" he teases again.
"Geez Mingyu, how old are you?" you laugh.
"I'm just happy," he grins. "You make me happy."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
_______________________________________________
aw we've finally reached the end!! i hope you all loved the story as much as i did. and if i ever feel so inclined (no guarantees) i might write a few bonus chapters/drabbles for you all . but i mostly wanted to thank you all for your love and support toward this story xx
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#mingyu fanfic#kim mingyu#mingyu#seventeen mingyu#minwon#mingyu smut#svt wonwoo#wonwoo fanfic#seventeen wonwoo#kpop
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Grunge Days Epilogue - Moonlight Mile
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2003, Slashs POV
1999, the year Y/n left me left me, the promise i had made her back in ‘92 was broken. And as much as she tried, I know that everything i was doing crushed her. It wasn’t much of a surprise when she told me it was over. And as much as it hurt, I had no choice but to let her go.
After Layne passed, Y/n had became the worst version of herself. No one could find her, and if they could, you couldn’t get anything across to her.
I’ll always remember the last time I spoke to her.
~
“Y/n baby- just open the door” Slash said, his head pressed against her door. “Please” Y/n sniffled “I can’t”
“Yes you can” Slash said, his own voice breaking at the sound of Y/ns weak voice “It’s okay- It’s just me”.
“Just leave Slash” Y/n said, her voice becoming harsher, she started yelling, “Get out of here” over and over again.
Slash flinched and shut his eyes when he started to hear things breaking through the door. He sighed, a tear threatening to leave his eye “Just- just calm down okay? I’ll leave”.
Sniffling, he said his goodbyes “I’ll leave Y/n okay? I love you- just call me when you can sweetheart. I love you.”
After some silence, he spoke his last words “Bye Y/n”
~
Duffs wife, Susan, was rubbing his back as I held him. In fear that he would fall onto his knees. Looking up to the sky, I didn’t know if it was me or him who was about to collapse. The pain was enough to take us both out.
My heart hurt as I stared at the box in front of me, the priest reading a bunch of prayers that I didn’t pay attention to. My heart knew that no matter what Y/n had done in her lifetime, she would be an angel.
All I heard was crying, I told my condolences to everyone. Jerry and Sean were a mess, everyone there was. Even I was, I was never much of a crier, but even through my sunglasses you could see all of the tears leaving my eyes.
The whole time i was here i felt judged, as though besides everyone’s grief, they looked at me as the man who never could love Y/n enough.
They were right, partially, I know I fucked up, but the love I felt for her was always real. The love i felt for Y/n was enough to almost make me stop breathing.
And to see this, all of the air in my lungs had slowly been leaving me.
I’ll never forget her smile, or her voice. The time we were together, happy in our own little world, and how all the times she would tell me how much she loved me was enough to make my knees buckle.
My eyes scanned everyone around me, until they landed on the dirt that was covering Y/n.
*
2005
Slash took a trip down to Seattle to go and visit Y/ns grave. He couldn’t live one more month without saying what he needed to
“I’m sorry Y/n” His voice cracked at the sight of her headstone, he had never saw it. The last time he was here was during her funeral.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t love you like I should’ve, I really wanted to” He cried, wiping his tears away, “I really did love you Y/n, I still do. I’ll never stop loving you. I’m so sorry” He said, his lips pressing together as his hand softly touched her headstone. “I really failed you, I’m sorry i wasn’t man enough to show you how much I loved you- I wish- I wish you were still here Y/n. Life hasn’t been the same since you’ve been gone” He sniffled, looking up to the sky.
Slash wasn’t the type of man to regret anything he’s done during his lifetime. But Y/n, Y/n was something that he regretted so much it made him relapse for the past two years. He never let himself feel what he was supposed to, now having kids he needed to find a way to be able to still function as a human being.
“I can’t stop saying i’m sorry- i don’t think i ever will” He sighed “I think of you everyday Y/n, you’ll always be the girl who has my heart- ever since back in ‘86- you’ll always be my girl.”
“I love you Y/n, and I will forever”
——
Im sorry
thank you guys so much for sticking with me, it means so much!!! sorry it took forfuckenever. I hope you guys enjoyed this series!!!!
All my love, gnrbitch💝
tagged: @killazilla777 @kirksfunkopop @queenboona-blog @eris-elysium @hoodiesandicedcoffee @eddiiiieeee
#slash#axl rose#guns n' roses#duff mckagan#guns n roses fanfic#izzy stradlin#slash gnr#slashfanfic#guns n roses imagine#slash fanfiction#gnr fic#gnr x reader#gnr fanfiction#guns n' roses fic#saul hudson#izzystradlinfic#slash x reader#slash imagine#slash guns n roses
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No, because I'm not over processing "Now & Then" and freaking out about what a perfect epilogue it is for the Beatles, but also what a perfect homage it is to John & Paul's friendship. And how much it feels like destiny.
The words "Now & Then" have so many strange ties to these boys. Because:
-> John's last words to Paul (during a meeting that no one could expect was their last) were: "think about me every now & then old friend".
-> John was murdered in December 1980. In February of 1981 a friend of Paul's - fellow musician Carl Perkins spent a week with him, participating in a recording of a song for his album. To thank him and Linda for their hospitality during the time, the night before he was meant to leave, Carl sat down and spontaneously wrote them a song titled "My Old Friend". He played it to them the next morning and Paul started crying and had to leave to gather himself. Linda McCartney then assured Carl it was okay and thanked him for helping Paul, because he had problems facing his emotions about the attack before that. And then she stopped and asked him "but how did you know?" and Carl had no idea what she meant. She explained that the only people who knew what John's last words to Paul were was her and Paul himself. And then she revealed what those words were. Carl had no idea, but he ended up accidentally including them in that song.
The chorus of that song went as follows:
My old friend,
Thanks for inviting me in
My old friend,
May this goodbye never mean the end
And if we never meet again this side of life
In a little while, over yonder,
Where it’s peace and quiet
My old friend,
Won’t you think about me every now and then
Paul then insisted on recording that song with Carl Perkins, which they did - and recalling that story later Carl said that Paul felt like that song was sent to him by John through Carl.
-> By now we all know the story of how this "new" Beatles song came to be - After John's death, Yoko found a demo tape of songs he never completed, that she then handed over to Paul so that him, George & Ringo could record the last new Beatles songs in 1995 as part of an anthology that was being released. (they wanted to record new material, but had promised never to do so without all the members included. So using these demos was the only way).
There's lots of places that claim the tape with the demos had "For Paul" written on it by John - but admittedly, I haven't actually seen a source quoted. Still - the fact that one of the songs on that last demo of new material they ever got from John was titled with some of the last words he ever said to his best friend? The lyrics of that song being what they are? Come on.
(It very much also just felt like a song for Paul to me. With how complex that relationship was - how intense all the emotions were - through love and diss tracks to still calling each other best friends while they weren't on good terms. Missing each other).
Then - destiny working the way it did, not allowing them to record that one track in 1995 because of the awful quality. Making it so that it was their actual last song in 2023. Because only now did the technology allow for seperating those vocals and fixing them up so that they can actually be used.
Like are you kidding me??? It was that one. The one that felt most special.
-> Bonus fact. The back of the record sleeve has a photo of a special art piece on it - from George Harrison's collection. One that provides another serendipitous moment in connection to these words:
Image source: [x]
And I'm just supposed to be alright with all of this?????????
#well - i haven't posted for a while but I was just overstimulated lately#and also processing this release on the side#I couldn't not write anything about it#these facts have probably been quoted everywhere ten million times in the last weeks#but I also felt the need to quote them on my own lil blog#so#here we are#hope you also fins this meltdown worthy#these sorts of serendipitous stories are... actually like religion to me#okay no - i hate religion. But they're a big source of my spirituality#songwriters; poets; artists often have so many of these beautiful moments of synchronicity snd serendipity#Paul McCartney for one has so many beautiful stories like that#that just make me... feel calm about afterlife whatever it is#if we're being ~deep and dramatic~ in the tags#okay#so that was that!#xoxo to anyone who's reading these 💖#(also these boys were twin flames in whatever sense of the word you'd like to see it i don't make the rules it's just what it was)#(that connection was so intense and deep and special and indefinable!)#//#Just Twin Flame Things#Paul McCartney#John Lennon#Beatles#Lennon & McCartney#blog stuff#screaming shouting going crazy#Now & Then#just twin flame things
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if we love again | byun baekhyun (epilogue)
𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 byun baekhyun x fem!reader x park chanyeol
𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 0.8 k
𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 angst | inspired on the song 'if we love again' (chen, chanyeol)
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 major character death
part 1 | part 2 | epilogue
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚
“I didn’t want to write you a letter this time. It just feels different. It’s the first time I don’t need to write a letter, actually. I think it feels more real to just talk to you, despite the fact that I haven't been able to have a real conversation with you for more than fifteen years. I still miss you, I still long for you, and I still love you. But as you used to tell me, moving on is part of the human race. I’d like to think that I finally did.
I didn’t bring Chanyeol today because he’s staying home with Jihoon. We… we had a baby, Baek. And he’s the most precious thing. He’s just like his father and I love that so much about him. He keeps us awake most of the nights and you cannot even imagine the dark circles we both sport to work every day. But I would never change it for anything else.
I know Chanyeol has been worrying about me more than usual. He’s seen me crying when I cradle our baby to sleep, and I am aware of the fact that he knows why I do it. There’s only been one instance in our five years together that he has questioned whether I will ever love him as much as I love you. From my end, I was waiting for it to happen. From his end, he hoped he had never said those words to me, because he knew. And that’s why I had let him in in the first place.
It feels different with him. It’s passionate, heartwarming and intense like ours. He’s romantic, thoughtful and funny, just like you were. But I’m not as lively. I cannot watch romantic movies anymore. I will never go to study rooms ever again.
Still, I don’t want to be the same as I was with you. Because Chanyeol is not you, and I never wanted him to be you. I want him because he’s my husband, and because he makes me feel like he can take care of my fragile heart for the rest of my days.
I came here to finally say goodbye. Or at least that’s what I want for now on. You may see me back next month, in ten years, or never again. Who knows.
I need to say goodbye to you in a way that allows me to live for my son and my husband. So that I can cry out of happiness for I have a healthy and bubbly child and not out of grief because I will never know what kind of baby we would have made together.
I hope I have made it clear throughout the years together and apart that you will always be my forever love. That you gave me a new perspective, a reason to wake up every morning. But when you no longer could do that, someone else did. And that someone deserves to have the wife I want me to be.
He respects you, and as he has already told you, he thanks you for everything you’ve done for me… for us. Chanyeol was the one who said that you were our cupid, and now he also thinks you brought Jihoon to our lives. Though it’s kind of cute, I had to laugh. We both know how babies are brought to the world.
With that laugh, I also wanted to let him know that you’re not always the reason for our happiness. We are the ones who make it work. The ones who wake up every morning and feed, bathe and love our son. The ones who love each other through anguish, uncertainty, and inexperience.
I have to visit my friends more often than I visit you. I have to tell my parents I love them more often than I tell you. You will always be here, but they won’t. And if we have to meet again, I hope it’s up there and not around grown grass and muddy graves. I know you’re with me every step of the way so I’m not worried about this decision. I’m hopeful it’s the right one for my family and I.
I am happy. I am fulfilled. I want my husband to feel the same way. I need my baby to grow up with a strong mother, and I know you will understand that. Oh, and I will tell Jihoon about you. Chanyeol is fine with it. He says you’re also part of our story, and that your prayers worked. The love between him and I exists without pain. The grief that has accompanied me throughout the years was never successful in tearing us apart.
Anyways, I don’t want to rumble any more. I love you, Byun Baekhyun. I will always keep you in my heart. I would be lying if I told you I won’t. Keep resting in peace. We’ll see each other when my time comes. For now… I want to live the life I have created here."
#exo#exo baekhyun#baekhyun#exo x reader#baekhyun x reader#baekhyun x you#baekhyun x y/n#baekhyun fanfic#exo fanfic#baekhyun angst#exo chanyeol#exo scenarios#exo writing#fanfiction#kpop fanfic#kpop imagine
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“don’t leave” mike schmidt x reader
-mike schmidt x childhood best friend reader
-a couple words probably
an: um.. hey guys. first off, i’m sorry that i completely abandoned my mike fic. i’m still very much obsessed with him, but the obligation of doing it and hoping that people would like it freaked me out. sorry :)))
on another note, here’s a little something that i wanted to share. i got my inspiration from a tiktok comment lmao. also this is a one shot, i have no motivation for another one (maybe MAYBE an epilogue).
also where tf did you guys go? ik i stopped posting but that doesn’t mean that you’re allowed to :(
summary: you’re about to leave for college when your childhood friend texts you.
———————————————————————————-
i’m here
The text was a little jarring. The blinding light of your phone reminds you of the fluorescent lights of the high school you just graduated from. It’s been two months since you wore the cap and gown and it was time to start becoming an adult. You looked back towards the box, marked with your name, as you tossed a pair of socks into it.
You were packing to leave. You had lucked out, with a scholarship to a college that was widely out of your price range and states away. You worked your ass off and it meant something, it was a dream. You’d have free housing on campus and finally get to see what it was like to be on your own. As you looked back at your phone, you wondered if maybe it was a nightmare.
Mike had texted you, your best friend of years. You’d met when you were seven when you’d moved into his neighborhood. You were young and scared but Mike pulled you down the street and you never looked back. You’ve gone through literally everything together, puberty, fights, and that one time in middle school when you dated (but don’t talk about).
You were sixteen when you realized that you were in love with him. The two of you were at his house, watching tv on the couch while his parents were gone, which was most of the time. You can’t remember what you were watching, it was probably some shitty action movie that he had been bugging you about. You were laid down across the couch, legs in his lap, not paying attention to the screen. You felt his hands on you, rubbing into the skin of your calves. Taking in a sharp breath from your nose, you realize that this isn’t something that “normal” friends feel. The realization laid heavy in your chest for years, far too scared to lose him if you said something.
Now you were going to lose him anyway. You’d be gone for four years, a lot could happen in that time. People say that they’ll still talk, text every day, but you know it’s a crock of shit. People change and fall out of touch in a few months, who knows what could happen in years. Maybe he’d realize he was better off without his friend who was constantly staring at him. Maybe he’d get an actual girlfriend, or maybe you’d be able to move on.
You narrowed your eyes at the words on your screen, what was he doing here? It was like 3 am and you were leaving in the morning. You’d already said your goodbyes. Mike was staying in town, saying that he’d rather start working than go to college. He’d never admit it, but you knew it was because he couldn’t afford it.
You left your phone as you stood up from the ground and creeped out of your room. Your parents were sleeping, like you should’ve been, but you were a procrastinator at heart and put off your packing till the last minute. You slowly closed your door behind you, tiptoeing to the front door.
Holding your breath, you inched the front door open. Mike was standing there, staring at the ground, his bike thrown carelessly behind him. He looked up as he heard the door. Your eyes widened as you took in his appearance, was he crying? It was dark, all the lights were off, but you could see a familiar glisten in his eyes. You slipped out onto the front porch, shutting the door with a quiet click.
“Mike?” You asked, not sure what was happening.
He gave you a small smile, “Hey.”
You gave him an uncertain smile of your own, crossing your arms around yourself to try to warm up. The air was bitter and whipped at your skin.
“What’s going on?” You asked quietly.
He looked away from you, letting out a deep sigh. You watched his every move, noticing the fast pace of his breath.
“I- I just. I’m going to miss you.” He whispered, his voice wobbling.
You couldn’t respond as he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, knocking the air from your lungs. You quickly reciprocated the embrace, wrapping your arms around his middle. He nuzzled his face into your neck, wetting the t-shirt you wore. Now you knew he was crying. He was practically shaking in your arms, and you couldn’t help but feel tears of your own fill your eyes.
Mike was all you’ve known for a decade, your dearest friend. You’d be moving in with strangers and having to start from scratch. In all the excitement, you didn’t realize that you would be leaving him alone. You sniffled as you cried harder.
“I’m not leaving forever, you can visit. And you’ll always be my best friend.”
He scoffed into your shoulder, momentarily stunning you. Had you said something? Was he not wanting to visit? Your mind raced as he was silent.
“Jesus, I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.” He said, almost knocking the wind out of you.
What the hell was he talking about? Your world shattered as he held you closer, crying a little more into your shirt. You weren’t sure what to say. He was saying everything you’d wanted to hear at the worst moment. You’d be states away from him for years.
You pulled him closer with a hand on the back of his neck, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks. You laughed a little at the irony, a back-door confession at its finest. You responded quickly, the words leaving your mouth before your brain could catch up.
“I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing because I have to leave in a few hours and I’ve loved you ever since I’ve known you.”
He shook in your hands as he cried harder.
“Great timing, huh?” He joked softly.
You let out a silent laugh that turned into a sigh. Looking at the dreary view of your neighborhood after dark, you imagined a world where you weren’t the scared sixteen-year-old girl who couldn’t make eye contact with him for a week after realizing she liked him. Would you have been able to have a few good years? You imagined him asking you to prom, kissing him goodbye in the school parking lot, cuddling on couches when it would mean something.
“This sucks.” You muttered.
“Absolutely.” He responded, pulling himself off of your neck so he could see you. He gave you a sad smile, holding your face in his hand, as he swiped your tears away with his thumb.
You looked at each other for a moment, not sure what to say. Then his mouth was on yours, your eyes closing out of instinct. It was complete desperation; wet and salty from the crying that the two of you had been doing. You pulled him closer, feeling something warm pool in your stomach. He held you closer in his hands.
You might not have had any idea of what you were supposed to do after this, or what it meant for the two of you, but all that mattered was this moment. His scent, his taste, and the way he felt on your lips. Thoughts of road trips and unpacking were forgotten, the only thing that surrounded you was Mike.
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** i still don’t give you permission to use my work as your own. this belongs to @joemothersfavoritechild **
#mike schmidt x reader#across the street#childhood friends to lovers#friends to lovers#they’re in love your honor#mike schmidt fluff#mike schmidt x you#sunshine x grumpy#mike schmidt x gn!reader#au#alternate universe#mike isn’t completely depressed#college#they’re stupid#i’m in love with you#josh hutcherson#josh hutcherson renaissance#pls come back pookie i miss you#josh futturman#derek danforth#peeta mellark#one shot#stand alone#fnaf#fnaf movie#no animatronics#canon non compliant#not canon#no trauma#boynextdoor
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HOME IS WHENEVER I AM WITH YOU. ( chapter twelve / epilogue. )
pairings — bonten!sanzu haruchiyo x assassin!female!reader
word count — 3.5k
chapter song — home, edith whiskers.
warnings — an ass*ssination, overall fluff, a bit of s*ggestiveness.
notes — im not ready to say goodbye to them. i must thank everyone who accompanied this silly little idea i had when i started watching spy x family, because if it wasn't for your kind words and encouragement, i wouldn't be able to finish my first series! this is a huge thing for me, and im getting emotional rn. well, see you guys again with counting sins !!! ugly crying rn.
☆ previous chapter ! ☆ masterlist ! ☆
“y/n! haru! i can’t believe you two were able to come!”
you smiled hearing aya’s excited voice, hand letting go of your husband’s to hug your friend. of course you couldn’t miss the opening of the newest restaurant of masahito — especially because tonight your mission would come to an end. it took almost two years for it to finally have a closure, but you knew it was yours and haruchiyo’s fault.
you could’ve killed masahito as soon as haru managed to be included in his circle of close friends, but your husband forbade you from killing for nine months, until your baby boy was born — taichi was five months old, another one that was a carbon copy of his father. it wasn’t fair, was it? that both of your kids had the same big greens from their father that it made almost impossible to make you say no to them.
taichi and sachi had their father wrapped around their fingers, and it was adorable seeing haruchiyo interacting with a newborn and sachi growing in the role of a big sister.
you would never forget the look on her face when you told her the news, the look of sheer happiness and awe that you ever saw on a child's face before. she looked so adorable while putting her little hands on your belly and whispering to it, being encouraged by her father, to talk to her baby sibling — she was a bit shy at first, but as soon as taichi started to grow in your womb, sachi shyness went away, to the point where taichi recognized his older sister's voice when he arrived home for the first time.
and you couldn't stop talking about how careful she was with him. sachi was a natural older sister, and you thought she learned that from her dad and uncle — because haruchiyo was a natural with babies, too. taichi always seemed to be calmer and more relaxed when he was between his father's arms, and they shared such a beautiful bond. it was just like you and sachi, and you couldn't wait to see him running after haruchiyo in your house alongside sachi, giggling and screaming when his father caught him.
“y/n is so fine for a woman who just gave birth!” you heard masahito say while you hugged aya, and your hold around her waist tightened. she knew what was going to happen, but you still wanted to make sure she was in agreement with that.
she just squeezed you back. she had found love within a scarred man with green eyes, and you couldn't wait until you could call her your sister.
“taichi is the cutest little baby. his green eyes are so cute!” aya exclaimed through giggles, and you smiled.
“i swear there is no thought behind those eyes, believe me. he is just like his father was.” you whispered in a hushed tone, but still with a hint of mischief in your words. aya knew about the truth, of course, but to others you and haruchiyo just met because you were his daughter's babysitter — and not because you were both childhood friends who were separated by twenty years. “and just like sachi, too. i swear, when tai starts to talk and run, both of them will be my downfall.”
“well, maybe a third one running with them and shouta can be better, don’t you think?” she teased, bringing your hands to rest for a few seconds on her belly, and you felt it — the same bump you had when you first discovered yourself pregnant with taichi.
your eyes widened. “no way.” she nodded, and you swore you never gave someone that wasn’t your husband and children such a big smile. “does he know?” you were sure takeomi would be overjoyed to be a father, and you knew he would be one of the best — not the best though, because that place belonged to haruchiyo.
aya nodded and you giggled. she told you how everything happened and how takeomi discovered she was pregnant with his child, and how she was hiding that from masahito, before haruchiyo called for you and you had to separate ways. you knew that masahito needed to die that night, or else you feared not aya or hers and takeomi’s unborn child would survive for so long. it seemed as if your husband was in tune with your wishes, squeezing your waist as soon as you were on his side again.
“takeomi told me.” he whispered in your ear while he guided you both to the designated table — the same one where aya and masahito would be — hand in your lower back and breath fanning your neck. “i want to see him dead as much as you want, sweetcheeks.”
“you’re so sexy saying things like that, haru.” you teased your husband, smirk on your lips, giggling when he pinched the flesh of your hips. “is everything according to the plan?”
haruchiyo nodded. it was a simple one, just like all the other ones — both your husband and aya would make sure that masahito was drunk enough to follow you into a secluded room, at the same time some infiltrated bonten members were going to attack the security staff and turn off the cameras. you would do the killing, of course, and haru would make sure that the designated bonten traitor would be there to take the blame for the killing, while taking you out of the room and out of the restaurant. ever since the killing of the american diplomat and the incident with the ex vice principal of sachi’s school, your husband always made sure no one was following you and your target — and, especially, not today.
you wanted to have your time with masahito, even though it wouldn’t be much.
haru helped you to get in your seat and aya promptly sat the other one next to you, to make sure masahito wouldn’t be able to engage in a proper conversation with you. when you were making the plan, she gave the idea of preventing him from interacting with you, since it would make him frustrated and more guillibe to follow you.
but you two acted as if nothing was happening, engaging in conversation about maternity and your kids while she and your husband keep giving him more and more alcohol.
you never thought about how your feelings were before a killing. maybe because you never knew the victim, or knew on first hand what they did to others — you were almost always excited or emotionless before, always repassing the plan in your head so it wouldn’t have flaws. but now? now your heart was racing with eagerness with every cup and glass masahito drank, hands twitching to take the pistol hidden under your dress and shoot him in front of everyone.
you felt haru’s warm hand on your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh there, as if he wanted to calm you down. and it worked, and you managed to continue your chat with aya without thinking about ways to make her future ex-husband suffer before he died — masahito wasn’t someone who deserved a peaceful death, but you knew you wouldn’t have much time to do what you wanted with him. the initial plan, when you first married haruchiyo, was to capture him so he could spill all the secrets of his work before killing him, but aya was already doing that. it was almost sad that you wouldn’t be able to see your husband in action as the loyal mad dog of bonten, but you knew you would have more opportunities to see that side of him.
the signal for the plan to start was given by one of the infiltrated members, after masahito came back from his speech, and you started to do what you were taught to — seduce a drunk and filthy man. it started with subtle looks and some flashes of your skin to him. he was drunk enough to not notice haruchiyo’s eyes on him, and after your husband left the table to talk with some men he knew, it started to be more shameless. you would laugh a little too loud at his jokes, or cross your arms under your breasts to make them look bigger and fuller.
you felt disgusted doing that in front of your friend, but she just smiled at you, as if she was used to it. aya left the table after giving masahito another drink, and you took her seat, doe eyes and kind fingers making their work. a wink and a kiss to his cheeks was what took him to follow you, running after the sight of you leaving like a puppy following its owner.
the room had been previously chosen by haruchiyo and kakucho, as always. for the plan to work, your husband needed to know where you were — and the other bonten members too. it wasn’t a hidden place, nor a place that everyone would search for the host to be. it was perfect for you and your husband to pretend the exact same thing that happened in the american diplomat’s assassination.
as soon as you entered the room, you felt masahito’s hands on your body and his drunken breath all over you. it was disgusting and it made you feel sick, but soon everything would be over. you turned around on his hold, pressing your lips lightly against his — so lightly that if you did that to your own husband, he would complain non-stop about it. but you didn’t want to prolong what was happening, pushing him and his body to the bed. if he was sober, you knew the plan wouldn’t work out, as he was strong even drunk; pressing his lips harder against you and squeezing your hips so harshly that you were afraid it would be bruised the next day.
but after a few kisses, you had masahito where you wanted him — laid on his back in the bed, your legs straddling his lap. you knew he thought he was getting his dick wet by the hot wife of his friend, and you tried to stay in character until you heard the signal. a faint whistle from your husband, and you were ready to kill.
you didn’t give time to masahito to react to it, already taking the pistol from your undergarments and pressing it to his forehead. you would never forget the look of sheer panic he gave you — masahito was the first kill you were happy to do.
“fuck you, your useless pig.” you whispered before blowing his brains out, a smirk on your face.
haruchiyo entered the room as soon as you were finished, bringing the traitor with him. he watched you for a few moments while you admired the blood coming from masahito’s head, proud and happy that you were helping a helpless woman to get rid of her abuser, and an innocent child to have a better childhood. takeomi was going to be more of a father to shouta than his own biological father ever was.
“sweetcheeks.” haru called you and you turned your attention to him, and he couldn’t help but feel his cock twitch inside his pants at the sight of you. your pupils were dilated and your mouth slightly parted, hair messy and a bit of blood on your cheeks. he couldn’t wait until he was home to finally fuck you and purify you of masahito’s touch.
his call took you from your trance and got off the dead body, helping him put the traitor in his place before he could kill him. you watched as your husband killed the guy with the same gun you used, heart racing a bit — you were a bit sick in the head for finding such a scene a sexy one, but what could you do?
the traitor was killed and haruchiyo smiled at you, and you pecked his lips. he groaned at the kiss, but you ended too soon for his liking — he needed to erase any traces of that man in your body, and he needed to do that now.
“let’s go, baby. i have to breastfeed taichi in thirty minutes.”
—
home, sweet home.
after a good killing session, there was nothing better than to arrive at your home. you and haruchiyo managed to get out of the restaurant without anyone noticing you two were gone, and a quick text to aya to check how things were going was what managed to calm your heart — she said nobody suspected a thing, and that the police was buying the story about the traitor. of course, one of the officers was a bonten informant, only there to make the other ones believe in what was happening.
the whole ride back you were between your husband’s arms, head pressed on his chest. you weren’t nervous nor startled, but that meant the mission was finally over. almost two years after it started, and it was over — the fear of him leaving you wasn’t in your heart anymore, but it was strange. you were happy that masahito was dead and aya and shouta had the opportunity to have a better life with someone else in their lives, but you were a bit sad. you would miss the planning, the hours spent with aya discussing how she wanted her husband dead.
now you two would be able to experience a more normal friendship, but it was cute seeing her coming with fetched ways to kill him.
but you enjoyed the proximity with your husband, without any of the kids trying to get your attention. he seemed to enjoy that too, with the way his lips were pressing kisses to your exposed skin while the driver took you two to your home.
the first thing you did when you arrived at your house was to check in the kids while haruchiyo paid the nanny.
sachi was sleeping peacefully in her room, her pink shark plushie tucked with her inside the covers. you kneeled down to kiss her forehead, and caressed her cheeks for a few minutes, just looking at her sleeping form. you still couldn’t believe how lucky you were to be able to call her your daughter, to see her growing up and receive all the love she had to give. her biological mother tried to show up again after you and haru married for real, but you knew your husband dealt with her — sachi was your daughter now, in paper and everything. you had adopted her as your own, and you couldn’t be happier.
“i love you, baby.” you whispered with another kiss to her forehead and left the room, being greeted with the cutest sight ever.
haruchiyo had a sleepy taichi on his arms, whispering sweet nothing in his ear while they waited for you. your little boy became a monster when he was hungry, and nobody wanted sachi to wake up because he was crying and sobbing without his milk.
“look, mama is here, little guy.” haruchiyo whispered and you smiled, taking taichi from his arms and nuzzling him in your body. “i’m going to see sachi now. don’t monopolize your mama's boobs, okay? they were mine before anything else.” you rolled your eyes at his words, cradling your baby boy’s body closer to you while your husband kissed his face.
haruchiyo went to check on sachi after a peck on your lips, and you went to taichi’s room to feed him.
breastfeeding was something that you needed to learn from the experience of it, but there was nothing better than to be able to feed your own child. you wondered why sachi’s biological mother didn’t want to have such an intimate moment with her — you couldn’t imagine how she could look at such a small being and not feel the overwhelming love and need to protect you did with taichi.
you watched as he fed himself, a small smile dancing in your lips.
as soon as he was over, he started to palm your skin and you smiled at him, lifting him up and pampering his face with kisses, receiving sleepy giggles in return. you didn’t notice your husband at the doorway, looking at the scene in front of him. how could he be so lucky to have you at his side again? to be the mother of his two children, and a wonderful one too? he won in the lottery, and haruchiyo knew it must have been a mistake of some sorts — how could someone with that amount of sins like himself be blessed like that?
you didn’t notice your husband at the doorway, but taichi did. “papa!” he whispered in the midst of babbles, and your eyes widened.
“did he just…” haruchiyo started, voice quivering with emotion.
“he said his first word!” you exclaimed, smiling at your baby boy. you were hurt it wasn’t ‘mama’, but you are happy nonetheless. you weren’t able to experience such moments with sachi, and it broke your heart whenever you thought about that.
haru was on your side at no time, arm encircling your shoulder to embrace both you and his son. “i’m proud of you, little guy.” he smiled and you giggled, resting your head on his shoulder. “mama is probably upset. you should try to call her too, you know?” he started to poke taichi’s belly, and he graced the room with his giggles.
“it’s okay, haru.” you whispered. “i know he loves me more.”
“what do you mean?!”
—
2AM.
taichi was now peacefully sleeping in his room after drinking his milk and laughing with his parents, and sachi didn't move an inch from when you two arrived home. they were your two little angels, but just when they were sleeping.
“haruuuu~” you called your husband from your place in bed, waiting for him to finish his shower and come to cuddle with you. your texts with aya were over since she needed to make preparations for the funeral, and you were bored without your husband at your side to keep you warm — you were only using one of his old t-shirts and a pair of panties, and you needed his body to help you warm yourself. “come to bed.” you demanded, a pout in your lips.
haruchiyo just rolled his eyes at his place in the bathroom. “you’re such a spoiled brat.” he muttered while looking at his reflection in the mirror, happy to be finally himself again — he hated the persona he came up with when he befriended masahito, missing his earrings and piercings, and his clothes. he was tired of being a CEO, a goody two shoes. he wanted to be his crazy and reckless self, though now he couldn’t be as reckless as he was before.
he had a family now to return to.
“you were the one who spoiled me, babe.” you replied, opening your arms for him to snuggle in. and he did, jumping in the bed and resting his face on your chest.
haruchiyo started to kiss your exposed skin, hands groping and squeezing the flesh of your ass to bring you closer to him, making you yelp and mewl at his ministrations. he bit a sensitive spot in your neck and you whimpered, hand tugging at his hair. “i need to get rid of that fucker’s touch on you, y/n. you’re mine and only mine.”
you nodded. “and you’re mine. only mine.”
“always had been, sweetcheeks.”
he leaned to kiss you again, ahdn already cupping one of your breasts, but before anything else could happen, you heard two cries — one from sachi, the other from taichi. haruchiyo groaned.
“i’ll go to sachi.” you nodded at your husband’s words, pecking his lips gently before getting up to tend to whatever taichi needed.
the life of a parent of two wasn’t easy — you didn’t have so many intimate moments with your husband anymore, nor you could do whatever you pleased with him while at home, but you didn’t care. you had a beautiful family, a daughter that was so sweet and kind, a son that would grow to be exactly like her, and a loving husband, that showed you what a good father should be.
if you told a seven-year-old y/n what she and her best friend would have in twenty years, she would never believe you — it was too good to be true, something that would only happen in fairy tales.
but while you looked at your husband calming down a crying sachi and you held your little boy between your arms, you knew that fairy tales were real. yours was a little bit twisted, with more killing and blood than a normal one would have, but what could you do?
it made it only more exciting, and you couldn’t wait to see what the new chapters were going to be.
taglist — @etheralyonn @ily-inupi @princessatoru @1900-aria @toobsessedsstuff @outthev01d @haitanic @cherry-berry-6 @nyapnyat @rayfuyu @lonnie19 @nanamis-wifey-reye @audreys-works @ploylulla @dckzs @hinatayandrella12 @wakasa-wifey @rinduos @royal-shinigami @hiimviolet @r-xochitl @pinksilk @cinnanmonmochi @tomooras @hibiscus-san @fl4mepillar @porceiains @noohpais @qiaipia @kirakirakill @yeehawnana @wack0-genius @ittosbighonkers @prettynui @chiaki3nanami @awkwardaardvarkforever @sanzuhachoo @krowedes @adoxra @jeanksluv @shinobus-footstool @ibiggiecheese @tsugikunisaisei @softbajis @blvkeverest @cherriomilkmangos @furiousturtlespyfire @jaegerslutx
#sanzu haruchiyo x reader#sanzu haruchiyo#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers#akashi haruchiyo x reader#akashi haruchiyo#sanzu x reader
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Guarded Heart
Bucky Barnes x Reader
MobAu
Chapter 23
Warnings: swearing, light angst, dirty talk, little bit of smut but mostly implied- fingering, toys, bondage. I think thats it.
18+ ONLY!
Notes: we have come to the end of our tale, thanks for sharing the ride with me, it's been a slice.
There will be an epilogue eventually.
I have other stories in the works so y'all can't be rid of me so easily.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For the next three months Y/N and Bucky planned their wedding, worked with the physical therapist on getting her used to her new arm and took care of business together with George Barnes.
They decided to move into Y/N's family home and move her mother into the guest house.
That meant Y/N had to clean out the guest house where Thor had lived, where she had spent so much time and learned so much about life and love.
Bucky and her mother offered to help but she refused, needing to say her final goodbyes to Thor alone. When she was almost done, Loki came over to take some of Thor's belongings. They sat on the floor in the empty living room, listened to Thor's favorite music( Wagner, starting with his Flight of the Valkyrie) and drank an entire bottle of Thor's favorite vodka, laughing and crying together remembering him.
Bucky showed up after she called him, slurring and laughing. He called Heimdal to pick Loki up and carried her up to her bedroom.
Y/N kept a box of pictures and mementos of her time with Thor. Mostly pictures of them from shows, with her horses and the ribbons or trophies she had earned, and the gatherings that came afterwards. Thor always looked so proud of her. He had been such a good friend above all else but she knew he wanted her to go on and be happy so she was trying. After Bucky left her in her room, she cried for Thor, for their love and for the Olympic dreams she had once had that she was sure were over now.
Once it was all cleaned out and redecorated for her mother, Y/N felt like she was starting a new chapter in her life. Different from what she had planned but still potentially wonderful.
She truly was falling in love with Bucky. He was a bit of a slow learner but she could see how he was working to be better for her. They were seeing a counselor to help work through everything they had been through and they were both hopeful that they could build something from the ashes of their past
Y/N spent time with her horses but only if someone else was around to help. She was afraid of misjudging the strength of her prosthetic and hurting one of the animals. She rode a bit but either with her mothers help or using only her right hand which was clumsy and confusing to the horses. Being around them was therapeutic in itself but her limitations were frustrating. All the tests the physical therapist had done, showed she had complete control of the arm but she couldn't help feeling scared of the damage it could cause if she didn't have that control, for whatever reason.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Y/N fidgeted with her dress "Mama, this shoulder just won't lay right."
Her mother shook her head and sighed "I had it laying just fine until you had to fuss with it."
Y/N was wearing an ivory one shoulder gown with gold thread detailing and fabric draped over her left arm. She was still very self conscious of the prosthetic, and couldn't stop fussing with it until she saw her mothers look.
She huffed "Fine but it feels weird."
Her mother shook her head "Well, honey, you lost your arm. It's only been three months since you got the prosthetic. These things take time."
Y/N gave her mother a soft smile "I'm sorry. Feeling a bit overwhelmed by, well everything. And really nervous."
Her mother smiled at her "I don't think you have anything to be nervous about. You look lovely, like a Grecian goddess, James will be beside himself. And I've seen the way he looks at you. Life won't be all beer and skittles but if you remember to trust in each other, you'll be alright."
Her eyes teared up "Your father was so proud of you. Your riding and what a strong woman you grew up to be, how you stood up for yourself with James."
She looked over Y/N's hair, making sure her gold leaf tiara, encrusted with tiny diamonds and pearls, was straight. Her hair was up away from her face except for the curled tendrils that broke free.
"I know, Mama. I wish he was here." She sniffled "Don't make me cry, it'll ruin my make up."
"Ok, ok. We can do this." She hugged her daughter.
There was a knock on the door and Pepper came in with Morgan. Both wearing sleeveless dresses with a deep v neck, Pepper in baby blue and Morgan in a soft yellow. "It's time, Tony will be here in a minute. Are you ready?" She looked Y/N over and smiled. "You look beautiful."
A few minutes later there was another knock and Pepper went to let Tony in.
Tony entered the room looking dapper as always in a grey suit with a tie that matched Peppers dress.
He smiled when he looked at Y/N "When did you get so grown up? That baby who cried all the way through her christening, seems like it was yesterday."
He hugged her "You look beautiful, kid. Barnes better appreciate what he's got, or he'll have me to answer to."
Y/N smiled fondly at Tony, trying to hold the tears back. "I don't know what I would do without you, Tones."
Tony smirked "Lets hope we never have to find out." He offered his arm as Sam came to escort Y/N's mother to her seat.
Y/N held on to him tightly when Morgan spread rose petals, then Pepper went to walk down the aisle. Her music started and she froze. Tony patted her hand "Come on kid, you've got this."
When they started walking, she was afraid to look up and watched her feet as they walked into the garden in her parents backyard, where she and Bucky spent so much time together, where they fell in love. She heard Bucky clear his throat and looked up to see him staring at her in awe, stunned again by her beauty. He gave her a small smile, encouraging her to walk to him. She returned the smile and looked over him in his dark grey suit, feeling her insides flutter at how handsome he was
Both of them went through the ceremony in a daze, looking only at each other and needing multiple prompts when it was their turn to speak. They had written their own vows where he promised, in front of god and everybody, that he would always treat her as his equal in business and in life, and they both promised to be honest and keep no secrets. They had special rings made by Tony that were magnetized to their vibranium arms.
When the officiant told them to kiss, Bucky pulled her flush against him and kissed her breathless. He pulled back just enough to look in her eyes "You're mine now, doll."
He looked at the crowd as they were introduced as husband and wife, nodded, then took her hand and pulled her back down the aisle and into the house until he found a guest room and pulled her inside.
Bucky pushed her up against the wall and kissed her hard "I've wanted you for so long doll, I'm losing my mind. I just need a taste to keep me until later" he kissed her again and ran his right hand up her leg, under her dress, nibbling down her neck "Fuck you look so beautiful. I wanted to take you right there, in front of everyone, claim you as mine. You drive me crazy, Baby."
She whined quietly "please Jamie, need you."
Bucky smiled against her skin "That's my girl. Oh" he paused "The things I'm gonna do to you sweetheart."
His hand made it up to her core and he groaned at her wet panties and thighs "This turn you on doll? Knowing I couldn't wait to touch you? Not caring that everyone out there knows damn well what I'm doing to you."
He pulled her thong aside and rubbed his fingers in her slick "Fuck Y/N, you're dripping" he slid one finger inside and she moaned softly until he added another one, his thumb rubbing her clit. "Oh baby, your pussy is gripping my fingers so tight. I bet you need to be filled don't you? Fill this tight little pussy with my fat cock and cum until she's overflowing?" He nipped at her neck, careful to keep from leaving any marks.
"Oh god, Jamie please. S'good. fuck. I need, I'm gonna..."
"What do you need baby? You wanna cum all over my hand, soak it?" He grunted "Ohhhh, fuck. I feel your pussy squeezing my fingers, fuck I wish it was my cock. Sooo wet and tight and-"
And he pulled his hand away as she was about to fall over that edge, making her whine "Jamie!"
She looked at him to see him sucking on his fingers and moaning "So sweet doll." Then looked at her smirking, with a twinkle in his eyes "let's go mingle with our guests."
She huffed at him "But Jamie!"
He tsked at her "I told you I just needed a taste. Don't worry, tonite I'll take care of you until you're begging me to stop. For now, business."
He offered her his arm after she straightened herself out and she pushed it away, frustrated and not looking forward to schmoozing mobsters for the next few hours.
"I'm gonna make you regret this, Barnes."
Bucky gave her his most charming smile "Don't you threaten me with a good time."
When they walked back out to the garden, which had been quickly transformed, with the chairs moved to the tables that surrounded a dance floor in front of the gazebo and the twinkle lights coming on as the sun set, everyone applauded with some whooping and whistling added in.
Y/N blushed and Bucky just grinned like he'd won the best prize at Coney Island.
They went through all the traditions. Their first dance together. Cutting the cake, feeding each other cake which she warned him not to fuck around with. Steve's half drunken best man toast which Sam had to finish while Steve cried on Loki's shoulder. Tony's father of the bride speech which included a number of threats aimed at the groom. The garter which almost included an unplanned orgasm from the bride, damn Bucky and his teasing, was caught by Sam. Tossing the bouquet that Wanda, who had spent the evening dancing with Sam, caught after a brief tussle with the Carter sisters who had been eyeing Sam all nite.
When he decided it was time to go, Bucky was chomping at the bit, picking Y/N up while she was hugging Pepper and Morgan. He carried her bridal style as he practically ran away from the guests throwing birdseed at them and raced up the stairs to the newly redecorated master suite. They had agreed to wait until all of the family business mergers were completed to leave town.
He gently set her down and went to remove her dress when she backed away, worried he would ruin her dress. Y/N kissed him sweetly then excused herself to the bathroom, instructing Bucky to get comfortable on the huge bed. He stretched out in the middle with his hands behind his head, naked as the day he was born and harder than he had ever been.
Y/N came out of the bathroom in a set of blue lace lingerie that was barely there. She smiled at him and crawled across the bed until her heat was hovering over his cock. He groaned when he realized the piece was crotchless as he felt her dripping onto him. She settled on top of him and his hips bucked up, trying to penetrate her dripping pussy. She leaned down to kiss him, rubbing her chest against his while she ran her hands up his arms.
Bucky felt soft fabric gliding over him and tried to reach down and grab her waist, only to find his wrists were bound.
"Y/N, doll. What's this about?" He tried pulling against the soft fabric but couldn't get free.
Y/N pulled back and smiled sweetly, in her most sugary voice she told him "Remember when I told you that you'd pay for teasing me?"
Bucky laughed "Awww come on doll, I was just playing with you. I planned on making it up to you tonight. Untie me and I'll show you."
He smiled at her and she felt her insides turn to mush so steeled her resolve.
"Later" she got up off the bed and grabbed a box, seemingly out of nowhere, to set on the bed near him.
Bucky tried to sit up and look but the restraints held him down "What's that doll?"
She smirked at him "Just some toys to play with, have a little fun." As she restrained his legs.
She pulled something out of the box and showed him, a faux fur cat 'o nine tails that she ran along his body, tickling and causing his muscles to tense up. Until she smacked his thigh with it and he hissed from the slight sting.
Then she pulled out a long slender shape, showing him the vibrator then turning it on low and rubbing it along the crease of his thigh, barely touching his twitching cock.
Next a small butt plug which made Bucky's eyes widen causing her to giggle lightly. "Don't worry Jamie, I have lube."
He choked slightly.
Y/N looked him over, contemplating if she should show him more and deciding that was enough to start. She looked in the box for a moment and pulled out a blindfold.
She sat back down on him, wiggling her hips until his member was practically engulfed in her wet heat. When he thrust his hips, trying again to find his way inside she snapped the cat 'o nine tails across his chest, making him gulp air into his lungs.
"Doll, ple-"
She cut him off
"This will be a lesson in relinquishing control, something we both need to work on but if it really gets to be too much just say 'red'"
Y/N just barely wiggled her hips and Bucky groaned but didn't move.
She stifled a moan and smiled "Good boy." then put the blindfold on him and pulled in a deep breath to control her own desire
"Oh, Jamie, the things I'm gonna do to you."
@sebsgirl71479 @calwitch @hhiggs @kimomoraba @avery199 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @esposadomd @bigphattygyal @cjand10 @lokiandbuckysdoll
Chapter 24
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#james bucky barnes x reader#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#angst with a happy ending#mob!au#guarded heart
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Solar Opposites: The Rise of The New Order Ch. 11/Epilogue (by @avaveevo)
A few weeks later…
Korvo and Terry are seen snuggling after having sex as they smile. Terry wakes up to check his phone and gasps
Terry: Oh shit! We're gonna be late for the wedding!
Korvo: On it!
Terry and Korvo gets ready for the wedding along with the Replicants and Pupa and AISHA and Teraformus and Jessica. Later, the family arrived at the wedding.
Korvo: I am so happy for these two.
Terry: Heh! I know.
Then, out came Moran and Xinna, who are wearing wedding clothes as they walk down the isle.
Xinna: *lovingly* Oh Moran…
Moran: Ready to spend the rest of your life with a handsome guy?
Xinna: *giggles* Yes. Yes I am.
Jesse then gets out the bible
Jesse: Do you Moran, promise to take care of Xinna to honor her in sickness and in heath, for as long as you both shall live?
Moran: Hell yeah I do!
Jesse: And Xinna, do you promise to love and take care of Moran to honor him and sickness and in health? For as long as you both shall live?
Xinna: I do.
Jesse: Now let’s hear those vows!
Moran: Xinna, from this day forward, I’m keep loving you throughout my whole life! You are one of the bravest Shlorpians I ever met! I love you!
Xinna: And Moran, you are othe most funniest Shlorpian I ever met! The way you try to hard to make people proud is amazing! That’s what I love about you! And I’m gonna keep loving you forever too!
Jessica cries with joy
Jesse; And by the power invested in me just for today, I know pronounce husband and wife. Okay go ahead and kiss! I wanna see this!
Xinna takes her crystal of her robe and she and Moran smashes it as they seal their vow with a kiss. Then, Korvo heads out for a bit as he realizes something as “My Life is Changing” starts playing.
I guess I was wrong
The people of Earth truly can be changed
Now Tortus is gone
I fear that I made the worst decision
I should’ve never allowed him to just
Go ahead with the New Order
Does it mean anything
To pass for divine judgement now
My life is changing
For better or worse
I must accept the truth that
My life is changing
All I’ve known is a lie
Can someone tell me why
The New Order are open to heathens
I don’t know where all this will take us
But my life is changing
So I need to change with it too
What was I thinking
The New Order Don’t Seem Very amazing at all
As the head rookie
How could I tell Kim-La she could fall
Redemption is impossible
For all the souls down on Earth
If I didn’t know better
I’d have mistaken this heathen as one of us
What other lies does the New Order hold?
Is this place worth its weight in gold
Are we no different to them?
Why is it we get to ascend?
Is the New Order misguided?
There must be something I can do
To the save heathens in hurting too
My life is changing for better or worse
I must accept the truth that
My life is changing
All I’ve known is a lie
Can someone tell me why
The New Order is open to heathen
I don’t know where all this will take us
But my life is changing
So I need to change with it too
Korvo sighs but then turns around and looks at his family as he smiles.
Terry: Korvy, are you okay?
Korvo: *giving Terry his hand* Care to dance, Terry?
Terry: Yeah. I would love to. Then after that, are you ready to head home?
Korvo: Of course.
Korvo and Terry kiss and then starts having a romantic slow dance as they smile. Then, the scene cuts to the Solars packing up their things with Kim-La and Karna joining them. Bee, Xinna, Gadget and Moran starts saying goodbyes to them.
Bee: Well, Kim-La, I guess this is it.
Xinna: I hate goodbyes. God damn it! We’re gonna miss you so damn much!
Moran: *crying hysterically* We’re so happy for you!
Gadget gives Kim-La a holographic communicator
Gadget: Here. You can call us through this. To keep in touch. Thank you for being part of The New Order.
Kim-La smiles
Kim-La: Thank you guys. *gets int a group hug with her friends as she smiles tearfully* Karna, it’s time. Come along. *to the rest of the New Order* Goodbye you guys. Thanks for everything.
Karna: Bye bye.
The rest of the New Order shout their goodbyes while Jessica and Teraformus comes up with suitcases as they happily approach the Solar Opposites, who smiled at them.
Jessica: Room for two more?
Korvo: Yes. There is.
Teraformus and Jessica join the hug. Korvo places a hand on Terry's face
Korvo: Ready to go home?
Terry: Yes. Yes I am. But I just need to do one more thing.
Korvo: Oh and what is that?
Terry: This.
Terry and Korvo embrace in a kiss as they moan lovingly. Then, AISHA starts the ship as it takes off after Kim-La, Karna, Jessica and Teraformus hop in the ship. The rest of the New Order and Shlorpians wave goodbye as the ship takes off. Then, a few weeks later, the Solars arrived home as they land on their house and heads outside as they smile.
Korvo: *sighs* It’s great to be home.
Kim-La: So this is Earth? It looks amazing!
Korvo: Well, to be honest I hated the place at first.
Then he smiles at his family.
Korvo: But I was wrong. It’s a wonderful home and it was worth it.
Terry smiles as the two husbands embrace. Then, the family along with Jessica, Karna, Kim-La and Teraformus looks at the sunset. A monologue from Korvo is heard *like the one from the Amphibia Series Finale*
Korvo: *monologuing* Change can be difficult, but it's how we grow. It can be the hardest thing to realize you can't hold on to something forever. Sometimes... you have to let it go. But of the things you let go... you'd be surprised... what makes its way... back to you.
Korvo then gets an idea how to celebrate his family’s return to Earth.
Korvo: Oh Terry? *seductively* You want to celebrate our way back home with sex?
Terry: Oh hell yeah! Let’s fucking go!
Cue Korvo and Terry kissing and moaning lovingly in their bedroom as sexy music plays
Korvo: This is the best sex of my life!
Terry: *laughs* I know, right?
The two husbands keep sending and moaning in ecstasy as the credits rolls, the songs in the credits are “Pompeii” from Bastille and “No Quite Paradise” form Bliss 66. Then comes the end credits scene.
3 months later…
Korvo is giving birth as he keeps pushing.
Korvo: FUUUUUUCK! OH GOOOOOOOOOD! TERRY. HOLD MY HAND!
Terry: Come Korvy! You can do it! Come on!
Korvo starts crying in pain. Terry holds Korvo’s hand as he keeps pushing. Then, Korvo gives one final push as he screams, then a baby’s crying was heard.
Doctor: Congratulations, it's a girl!
The doctor wraps the sproutling, who has Terry’s skin color, in a blanket as the doctor hands in the infant over to Korvo, who shed tears of joy along with Terry.
Terry: Hi sweetie. It’s us. Your daddies.
Korvo: She’s like a beautiful flower sprouted with hope. We shall name her… Lili.
Lili looks at Korvo and coos
Korvo: Welcome to the world Lili Solar-Opposites… we love you…
Lili falls asleep and sucks her thumb. The two alien husbands look as their baby and then embrace in a kiss as the screen fades to black.
#solar opposites#solar opposites au#tervo#solar opposites: rise of the new order#korvo#terry solar opposites#british korvo#yumyulack#kim La Solar opposites#Moran solar opposites#jesse solar opposites#Xinna solar opposites
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Hey, Hannah, how are you? Sooo ... I've read Lucky Girl on Wp. (Staying up until 3 AM in doing so.) I was crying and laughing. Crying especially when Evie had to say goodbye to Shane, Claire and Jude. I love the end where you showed all the key places where Evie and Jude had been together. That and a bit of the story reminded me of La-La-Land. I love the epilogue. Smiling all the time while reading. What I kind of expected was that Evie would spend more time with Jen and help through their traumata. I'm in love with your story! Your describing of the scenery. ❤ The photocollage of snippets of your life. ❤ How much percent of your life is in Lucky Girl? Did you know a Jude? And there is always a third option and I love that Evie chose it. Thank you!
ahh omg <3 I saw that you had continued to read on WP and I'm honoured that you chose to rather than just reading it as it was posted here every day. It's a bittersweet ending, there's no doubt but it felt so incredibly right for Evie to choose herself, not what others wanted for her ultimately.
Yes! This is one of my minor regrets about the story - the Jen story line could have been more, but i realised too late that in order to tie it all up neatly I'd have to extend the length of the story so much, and really, the story was about Evie and Jude. I was sad to kind of let that thread go, but it was for the benefit of the main story. If I had another chance at it I think I'd handle that part differently.
Haha great question - it's hard to answer because none of it? all of it? Every emotion that Evie feels, I also felt at some point, but none of the things that happened to her happened to me in exactly the same way. It's kinda like I took events from my life and mixed them up, added in some events from my friends' lives too and baked it all into a big cake. Overall it's an amalgamation of how it felt to be me as a teenager/woman in my early twenties, though actually, I was always a bit more like Jude than I was like Evie.
Yes! I knew a Jude - he was the inspiration behind the entire thing. I don't think I've talked about this before? But when I was sixteen I met a very tall, very funny and very handsome boy with an interesting accent who kind of made me challenge all of the ideas I had about life and myself. We never got together, he moved away when he was nineteen, but the whole experience I had with him was one of the most joyful and painful (and important learning) experiences I ever had.
He showed me that handsome/popular people were in no means out of my league as I had thought (lmao) but also that things don't work out well just because you both have strong feelings or because you feel like you have earned the right for them to. The story of this boy is longer than Lucky Girl, but yes! I'm glad you asked. A version of him is real, and out there somewhere walking around, Thirty two years old now, and we don't speak anymore. He has no idea that I've made content inspired by him, and he's a creative person too (a filmmaker) so honestly, who knows, maybe he's done the same thing about me.
Your question has made me very misty eyed and sentimental haha - thank you for sending me this! And thank you even more for reading <3 There is more to come with Lucky Boy, so maybe that'll be interesting to you too
xx
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The Times We Were Together: Chapter 6
Series Title: "The Times We Were Together"
Chapter Title: "Epilogue (Graduation)"
Series Summary: After the Raccoon City incident, Claire, Sherry and Leon start living together, where they share many memories and moments with each other.
Words: 902
Warnings: None
8 Years Later...
A slender young woman glances out the window from her well-decorated bedroom, her pixie-length, sunny-colored hair glistens in the light from the setting sun. She sighs wistfully, stroking the soft fur of the dog that laid down sleepily next to her.
The young woman in question is Sherry Birkin, once the little girl who was one of the few survivors of the disaster in Raccoon City, along with her adoptive parents and a few others.
She could hear the occasional roar of laughter and conversation from Claire and Leon, along with Jill and Chris, who were visiting from a few states over to celebrate her high school graduation.
That's when it dawned on her. Sherry only had just a few months left with her family before she'd be on her way to attend university on the West Coast.
It wasn't like she was dreading going to college, if that were the case, she probably wouldn't be going at all. However, eight years had gone by faster than anticipated, so much so that it was almost time for her to say goodbye for a while.
Sherry sighed once again and leaned her head against the window, watching the summer sun go down. She couldn't just believe the amount of time that had passed, but the events that occurred during that time.
The beginning of it all, for starters, was a bit of a blur nowadays. She obviously remembered everything, especially the horrible, horrible things that a 10-year-old could obviously never forget, but Sherry tended to wonder what her life would be like without Claire and Leon, or if they hadn't stayed together.
The events that followed after went quite smoothly. Claire and Leon eventually managed to get jobs, even though Claire made the decision to drop out of college (which Chris wasn't totally on board with at first), and about a year and a half later, they finally saved enough money to rent an apartment for the three of them. One that was far, far away from where they had come from. As for Sherry, she was enrolled in a cheap private school so she could finish her basic education, and the rest was history
However, those first three months after the disaster were the most memorable to her. The amount of time in which the trio had grown as a family the most. She'll never forget how happy she was during those months. The most happy she'd been in probably her whole life. Despite the fact that she remembered missing her parents frequently, and still does even to this day, Claire and Leon had given her more in that time than her real parents had in the first ten years of her life.
Just thinking about these memories brought tears to Sherry's eyes. She was about to let herself cry before she heard a sudden knock at her door.
"Come in!", she called out, wiping tears away.
A familiar figure slipped through the doorframe. Leon.
"Hey, kiddo, everything alright? You left in a hurry down there...", he spoke with a tinge of concern in his voice, which had deepened slightly in eight years time.
"Oh, uh, yeah!", she replied.
"Just needed a little space, that's all"
He nodded, "Ah, I see. A bit loud down there, wasn't it?"
"Sure", she lied.
Leon wasn't buying it, however, "No, really. What's on your mind?"
Sherry sighed, "Sometimes I forget how stubborn and persistent you can be sometimes"
"You know me", He laughs out loud.
"Well...", she began.
"I'm just...reflecting, I guess"
"On what?", Leon's head tilts similarly to a curious puppy.
"This is gonna sound weird, but...Just my life so far. Especially these past few years."
Leon glanced down at the floor, "It's really been that long, huh?"
"Yeah, time really does fly"
"You can say that again! You're almost as tall as Claire. When we first met you, you were half her size", He noted, nudging her side.
Sherry laughs, then silence fills the room before she speaks again.
"Y'know, I had a weird dream the other night"
"Oh yeah? What about?"
"That we got separated after Raccoon City. I got taken from you, and then you became some burnt-out government agent"
"Sounds miserable", Leon scoffed amusedly.
"Yeah, you rescued the president's daughter from a village in Europe and everything"
"Huh. That's oddly specific", he added.
"Yeah, it was really realistic. Like it could have happened"
Leon was silent for a moment, probably a little freaked out by the realness of the dream.
"Well, I assure you, you have nothing to worry about, Sherry", he ruffled his hand through her short, blonde hair.
He then looks at her and smiles, "I'm really proud of you, y'know?"
"Because I graduated today?"
"Not just that. You've managed to persevere against all odds these past few years. Out of all of us, I believe you were the strongest"
Sherry shook her head in disbelief, "Oh, Leon, that's not tru-"
"It is true! Look at you now! You've got nothing to lose!"
"I DON'T EVEN HAVE A GREEN!!"
A loud yell sounded from downstairs. The two chuckled in unison.
"Why don't we head back down? Sounds like Chris is losing at cards again", Leon suggested, reaching his hand out towards her.
"Sure, Why don't we"
With that, she nodded and took his hand, heading downstairs to join the others in the fun.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
*BONUS*
"Leon, can I ask you something?", Claire inquires as the two walked down the street shortly after Chris and Jill left for the night to go back to their hotel.
"Hm?"
"Would you ever want to settle down?", Claire blushes.
He laughs, "What do you mean, like have babies??"
Claire rolls her eyes playfully, "I mean, yes...but also y'know...getting married and stuff.
Leon shakes his head, "Why are you bringing this up, Claire?"
"Well...since Sherry is gonna be on her own soon, maybe nows that time, if you know what I mean...?"
Leon pauses in his steps and looks over at Claire.
"I think I'd like that"
He can see Claire's gentle smile through the almost comforting darkness of the early summer night.
"Me too"
The End
#resident evil#resident evil 2#re2#fanfiction#ao3#cleon#claire x leon#leon kennedy#claire redfield#sherry birkin#chris redfield#fluff#found family#final chapter!!#also I uploaded this to ao3 weeks ago idk what was up with me lol
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JOAN CALLING KINCAID KINNY JOAN CALLING KINCAID KINNY JOAN CALLING KINCAID KINNY JOAN CALLING KINCAID KINNY JOAN
Idk what Régine is on, but I kinda like it👀👀. Her warning Joan of what they had planned?? My girl is getting her redemption arc??
“Jonathan,” the man held out a callused hand. “Jonathan Shadowhunter.” FFS FOR A SECOND I THOUGHT IT WAS ALBERT!!!! I SCREAMED AND HAD WAR FLASHBACKS OMFG. After he said he was Jonathan I WAS RELIEVED IF THAT TELLS YOU HOW MUCH I HATE THAT BITCH 😡😡
I will only focus on Iris and Abigail's friendship and ignore the world collapsing, don't mind me they are now my everything :))
The man was really exquisite – which was apparently a word you can use to refer to your professional relationships too. I got kicked out of a class because I couldn't stop laughing at this 😞, I don't regret it, but my humor is broken now JAHDHHSUAHDDJSAK
Also hellooooo Miguel👀👀👀👀. Thank the angeI speak spanish
I need answers from Hermes!!!!!
I am 99% sure it was David who changed the canon event, it can't be Alec, Max or Rafael... Lance can't go through a portal by himself, and he aparently didn't know Arthur died... It could be Magnus but idk!!!!
“Mom!” the boy gasped out softly and threw himself at Isabelle, making the other woman freeze in shock. I MF CALLED IT!! From the moment Iris said all the Resurected were young and killed so suddenly (which makes sense bc Arthur was the same, and in changing his death they changed the canon events of those similar. So fucking brilliant!!), I knew Max would also come back 🥺🥺
He was screaming as if he was in agony. I really should stop reading this while I'm in public, it's becoming embarassing to cry that much outside...
I'm still so confused about Arthur and Magnus' dreams!! I thought I figured it out but turns out I'm still confused af 😭
Because he was dead. Because he is dead. He is dead.
///
“You were born to kill him, and I was born to love him,” Arthur smiled tiredly. “There is no destiny, Kincaid. This was never meant to be.”
///
“Arthur, please,” Kincaid said hoarsely, putting a hand on the barrier. “I love you.” “I love Lance more,” Arthur replied and turned around. “Goodbye, Kincaid.”
It's fine :) It's not as if I'm freaking tf out because there's one chapter and the epilogue left :) Totally not breaking apart :) Completely not devastated by every new ending of a chapter or POV :) Obviously unrelated that I will be going insane until next chapter :))))))
I finished the outline of the next chappy and yeah it's something hehehe. ALSO IT'S THE LAST ONE :(
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Like A Girl (Like A Man)
Shifty Powers x OFC
Chapter 37: Shifty Igaluhga
Summary: Back in Bastogne, she had imagined that getting out of her childhood home would look like a scene out of an old fairytale. A handsome man would burst onto the scene, slay the dragon, free the maiden. But it didn’t turn out that way at all. The maiden fled with nothing but a hope in her heart. The prince ran into her along the way.
A/N: I uploaded this to AO3 forever ago but apparently just never bothered to update on here?? My bad 😔Considering that I'm about to post the epilogue, this seemed like a good time to get my act together lol
Chapter title translates to "Shifty's return" or "Shifty is returning"
Warnings: brief mention of period typical racism, symptoms of PTSD
Taglist: @latibvles @liebgotts-lovergirl @dcyllom @ithinkabouttzu @mads-weasley @mrs-murder-daddy @lieutenant-speirs
Virginia, 1945
To say that Zenie is tired would be an understatement.
Too hyped up on adrenaline, she fidgeted for the entirety of the ride in Bobby’s truck. He insisted on waiting with her for her train, and they sat on a bench together, Zenie’s leg bouncing with every passing second, marking the clock ticking closer to the uncertain future. If only she could be as resigned to her fate as she had been on D-Day.
Bobby holds her hand to still her. They ignore the looks that some people throw them when they spot his moonbeam hands intwined with hers. He hugs her goodbye when the train rumbles into the station and the doors hiss open, and there is so much care and friendship in the action that she no longer cares what anyone watching thinks.
She stays awake, alert, vigilant the entire train ride. Fields roll by in waves of wintery beige. There would be more to look at if she was making this trip in the spring or summer. But she won’t let herself fall asleep when she’s alone in a place like this, so she makes the most of the scenery.
When the train rolls into Clinchco, she’s reached that point of tiredness that makes a person feel like they’re moving through molasses – slow and hazy. She fumbles with her bags and then stumbles to the bus station, not bothering to count her change after she pays for her ticket. By the time she’s boarded the bus with her belongings, she collapses into the seat. The only thing that keeps her from risking a nap is the fact that she needs to know when to get off at her stop.
And the daydream.
Zenie doesn’t question it at first. Anything could happen and she would assume that it was a figment of her sleep-deprived imagination. But as she distracts herself by preparing a script for what to say to Mr. and Mrs. Powers when she shows up on their doorstep, thoughts of Shifty himself distract her.
With every person who boards the bus, she swears that she recognizes his familiar footsteps. She hears his voice in every person who greets the driver.
The combination of exhaustion and being in his hometown is overwhelming. So many months passed with Zenie trying to content herself with the knowledge that Shifty would rescue her any day that now it’s like she’s only just realizing how much she’s missed him.
He’s out there, somewhere. He’s hurt. The fabric of her heart slowly unravels itself until a hole rests where her husband should be, and it grows bigger and bigger with every passing second. She thought she had cried all her tears while on the phone will Bill and Babe. Zenie has to bite her lip and stare out the window to keep herself from crying in this place. She’s a paratrooper, goddamnit – she will not let people see her break down.
Breaks squeal and the bus lurches forward, finally whisking her away to the next step in her journey. A new challenge awaits her. She’s made it this far, but seeing Shifty’s parents could go well or poorly, and she’ll need to be prepared for both possibilities. First, though, she’ll have to get there, which means getting off the bus at the right stop. She holds her gaze steady, moving it between the window and the front of the bus, trying to find familiar landmarks. She knows the Powers’ address, but it’s been years since she’s been to Virginia.
Near the front of the bus, someone else appears to be doing the same. Zenie watches the back of a man’s head as he turns ever so slightly, looking between the windows in both directions. From his hair color and his attentiveness, he reminds her of Shifty. The thought makes her eyes prickle with heat, and she almost wishes the man would turn around so she could assure herself that it’s not him.
Fortunately or otherwise, the bus ride does not last long. Familiar landmarks soon begin appearing on the other side of the windows, and Zenie begins to arrange her luggage so that she can gather it and go as soon as the bus stops.
She stands just as soon as the vehicle lurches to a stop. Several other people do as well. Ahead of her, the man she had been watching grabs his bag and steps into the aisle – only to freeze.
Zenie does the same, her breath hitching in her throat. Because now that he has turned, Zenie can see his face for the first time.
He looks exactly like Shifty, too, she thinks, using her exhaustion to write off what seems too good to be true. But when the man’s eyes go wide, she realizes that that last part is not quite true. It is Shifty.
“Shifty?” Amid the hubbub of noise as people try to disembark, she can’t be sure if her voice carries, or if she even speaks the thought aloud.
Shifty drops his bag at the sight of her. One of the people between them jumps back, trying to avoid having her feet crushed. Scarlet tinges Shifty’s cheeks when he realizes what he’s done. Apologizing profusely, he picks up his bag and makes his way off the bus, looking behind him the entire time, never letting Zenie out of his sight.
Zenie will never be able to remember if the people in front of her were annoyed, but she can’t blame them if they are, because she presses up against them with all her luggage in her haste to follow Shifty off the bus, in her desperation to not lose sight of him. Because after losing him for months, losing sight of him now for even a few seconds would crush her.
He’s waiting for her – actually waiting for her! – when she steps off the bus. He drops his bag on the sidewalk as Zenie rushes forward, tossing her own aside. She falls into his arms the way a notch on a puzzle piece fits into the slot on its match.
It really is him. Even though they’ve been parted for months, she still recognizes his familiar scent of army distributed soap and that cool smell of pine that never seems to leave him. She inhales it as deeply as she can, the way people cling to hazy memories that they’re at risk of forgetting with the passage of time.
Neither of them seem sure of what to say when they finally break their embrace. If words weren’t required, Zenie might just bask in his warmth until the end of time, lost in the galaxies of his dark eyes.
Shifty, for his part, looks like he feels the same way. His smile is wide and he brings a hand up to cup her cheek, running a calloused thumb across it.
“Zena,” he breathes.
“Shifty!” She hugs him again, clinging to him when she says, “What happened? How did you get here? I only heard about your accident the other day, and no one knew where you were – “
Shifty pulls away so that he can look at her. He keeps his hands on her waist, never letting her go, even in his confusion. “Oh, forget about me. No one knew where you were! I wrote you so many letters from the hospital, but you never replied.”
Once again, memories of disheartening trips to the mailbox at the end of the day flash through her memory. Everyone keeps telling her that they’ve been writing to her. And they all got her letters, so why didn’t she get any of theirs?
“I didn’t get any letters from you – “
I’m fixing things, her father had said with a pile of ashes on the kitchen floor . . . He had moved his chair to the front window just as soon as Zenie got home. She had assumed that it was to keep her from slipping out the door again. But now she realizes the truth: he was intercepting her letters and destroying them. If not for her father, she would never have thought that her friends had forgotten about her, that her own husband had abandoned her. She would have known about Shifty, and she would have left much sooner.
“Oh my God!” she realizes aloud. “My father . . . he was destroying my mail.”
“What? So you really never knew where I was, or what happened to me?” Shifty’s eyes are wide. He looks stunned.
Zenie reaches down and entangles her hand with one of his. “I had no idea. If I did, I would have come to find you.”
A beat of silence passes as they take it all in. They could have been reunited so much sooner. None of this uncertainty, none of this loneliness. The cold feeling of anticipation and dread that has encased Zenie’s heart begins to thaw, leaving something fiery in its wake. After all that’s happened to her –
Even after all their time apart, Shifty seems to be able to read the look on Zenie’s face. He squeezes her hand, his forehead scrunching as his brow furrows.
“We’re together now,” he reminds her. “That’s what’s important: that we found each other after all this time.”
The fire within her chest dampers down slightly. Her father is not here. She should be focusing on reuniting with her husband, not smoldering with hatred over what’s in the past.
“You’re right,” she says, resolving herself to stow away the past few months and enjoy the present moment. “This is what matters.”
Shifty smiles, leans forward, and plants a kiss on her forehead. Then, he reaches for their bags and says something similar to what he once said to her all those years ago. “Well, adageyudi, are you ready to head home to the holler?”
Beloved. Heat rushes to her cheeks. She shoulders her bags. “Vv.”
The Powers’ house isn’t far, but it’s slow going. Shifty moves stiffly and he limps a bit. It’s so different from that of his usual stride of the confident soldier. Zenie offers to carry his bags for him, but he waves her off, assuring her that he’s fine.
There isn’t much time to think on it, either, because the house soon looms in front of them. Shifty pauses when he sees it, his breath hitching in his throat. In the dimming evening, light pours from the windows, golden and welcoming, the color of butter melting in a pan. Zenie knows exactly how he feels – she also froze at the sight of her childhood home after all those years away.
“I . . . don’t know what to do,” he confesses after a quiet moment. He considers his options before shrugging. “Shoot, everybody’ll be home by now. I suppose we can just walk right in.”
Looking at his face as he approaches the house, Shifty so resembles the young man he was when Zenie first met him – no furrowed brow, no fractured bones. Just a happy boy with so much boundless energy that it’s contagious.
They bound into the house without certain considerations, which Zenie doesn’t realize until they’re already through the threshold.
Papers rustle as a man in a chair looks up from his newspaper. Realization dawns on Mr. Powers face as he recognizes his son. His paper flutters to the floor, forgotten, as he rises and rushes forward. “Shifty?”
“Shifty?” A voice from the kitchen repeats. “Barnum, what – “ Shifty’s mother freezes when she steps around the corner and takes in the sight before her. “Shifty!”
Mrs. Powers has her son wrapped up in a hug and is laughing in delight when two more voices join the chorus, calling out from the other rooms.
“What’s going – Shifty!”
His younger brother and sister appear on the scene, clamoring forward to join in on giving their older brother a hug. The Powerses all look so happy to be (almost completely) reunited that Zenie’s heart melts as she watches the scene unfold. This is a family; they all look so happy to see each other.
At some point between all the tears and the laughing and the cheers and the hugs, Shifty’s sister takes notice of Zenie, who still stands by the door with her bags.
“Shifty!” Gaynell gasps. “You brought home a girl?!”
All the attention turns to Zenie as the others notice her for the first time. She offers them a small wave in return, realizing now that they never planned out what to say to Shifty’s family.
Mr. Powers starts forward, hand extended for a shake. It’s not until he’s pumping Zenie’s hand that he squints, tilts his head. “It’s nice to meet you . . . But say, you look familiar. Have we met before?”
Zenie and Shifty share a knowing glance. This is a serious matter, to explain everything to his family and then spring the news of their marriage on them. But for some reason, as soon as they look at each other, the two of them burst into giggles.
“It’s something of an unbelievable story,” Zenie says by way of explanation.
Mrs. Powers claps her hands. “Well, we were just about to have supper. We’ve got all the time in the world!”
So it’s over a good homecooked meal and well into the dessert of Mrs. Powers’ famous banana pudding that Shifty’s family learns that they have met Zenie before – but realize that she and Shifty’s old army buddy Tommy are not so different.
Late that night, after Zenie and Shifty have reintroduced themselves to each other and are lying together in the moonlight, it dawns on her that it was years ago, in this same house, in a room just down the hallway, that she first realized that she was in love with him.
And, she remembers, where she thought that there was no chance for them whatsoever.
It makes her laugh now. If only the Zenie she was back then could see her now . . .
“What’s so funny?” Shifty’s voice is soft. It’s always soft, but this is as gentle as the pale winter moonlight that sneaks in through the curtains. It’s late, and he’s trying not to wake anyone. Most of the power in his words comes from the rumble in his chest as he speaks. With Zenie’s head on his chest, it’s a comforting sensation.
Zenie bites her lip to suppress another laugh before she tries to explain. “I was thinking about the last time we were here.”
“Hmm. That was a long time ago.”
“That was when I realized I had feelings for you,” Zenie admits. Beneath her head, she can feel Shifty chuckle.
“It was for me, too, I think,” he confesses. When Zenie maneuvers so that she can see his face, his brow is furrowed as he thinks it over. “Yeah. When we climbed to the top of Frying Pan.”
“Things felt impossible then.” Back when she was Tommy. Back when her biggest concern was making sure that she wasn’t caught with stolen rolls of bandages. “Hell, it felt impossible this summer, worrying about what had happened to you.”
“Zena.” Shifty rolls onto his side so that they’re facing each other head-on. Their faces are mere inches apart. “I can’t tell you how worried I was about you. Bein’ all alone, somewhere out there. I still feel plumb guilty – “
Zenie reaches up, runs a hand through his hair. “It’s not your fault, Shifty. No one could have known what was going to happen.”
“No, I know, but – “ Shifty bites his lip. “There wasn’t much to do in that hospital bed. Just had to lay around and think. And I kept thinkin’ about you, which led to worryin’ about you. I didn’t want you to think that I had abandoned you. Especially because – “
A pause.
“What is it, Shifty?”
He pushes a sigh through his nose. “I worried myself sick, thinkin’ that maybe after our wedding I had left you in a family way. And then you would be all alone, not knowin’ what happened to me.”
A chill runs through her. All those months alone, that was never a worry that had crossed her mind. Thinking that her friends and her own husband had forgotten about her was bad enough. But being pregnant and thinking that she had been abandoned? That would have been a special kind of hell.
Someone is watching over you, Reneé had said to her back in France. Perhaps God is real. Or maybe Granny really is always with her, still watching out for her. Either way, they got lucky with that one.
For lack of anything better to do, she shakes her head and states the obvious. “Don’t worry. There’s no baby.”
“Not yet.” Shifty props himself up on his arm, studying her. “Would you ever want to? Have a baby, I mean.”
Would she?
There was a time in her life when she would have confidently said no without stopping to really consider her answer. What lies at the heart of it is obvious: she would never want anyone else to have the sort of childhood that she did – lonely and mistreated. She would have said no because she was worried about being like her father.
Matthew’s words from their reunion come back to her then. Neither are you, he had assured her when she told him that he didn’t have to worry about being like their father, because they were nothing alike.
And Shifty is nothing like him, either. He had a good childhood, a good role model for a father. He’s kind and he’s good.
“Yes,” Zenie whispers tentatively, as if raising her voice might somehow ruin the whole thing.
Shifty smiles, his eyebrows raising in curiosity. “Yes?”
“Yes.” She nods this time, making it feel more official. “With the war over, and things quieting down, I think we could start a good family.”
A warm kiss is pressed to her knuckles as Shifty takes her hand, smiling into the gesture. They bask in warm silence for a minute, continuously intwining and interlocking their fingers in different ways. I’m right here, you’re right here, we’re right here together, the gesture seems to say.
“What do we do in the meantime?” Zenie ventures. After all, now that they’re here together, now that there are no more delays, they have to start their lives, somehow. Something that they only mentioned in hopeful passing during the war is here; decisions will have to be made.
Shifty sighs, sinks into his pillow. “We can worry about all that tomorrow. Or in the next few days. We deserve some time to just be together. We’re owed that much.”
They’ve got to make up for lost time. Everyone else will have come home from the war a hero by now. They’ve had months to enjoy themselves, to make plans, to move on. Zenie and Shifty have spent months in an uncertain purgatory. Finalities can wait a little longer.
“I’m just glad we found each other again,” Zenie whispers. “You saved me once again, Shifty.”
A frown crosses Shifty’s sunshine face. He sits up, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
She would have thought it was obvious, but she explains anyway. “I got out of my father’s house because of you. I get to start over with you. If I hadn’t been waiting for you, and if I hadn’t heard about the accident and come up here, I would still be in North Carolina, trapped in that house . . .” Her voice, if it’s possible, becomes even more quiet as she confesses something that she has never told anyone before. “You know, after Granny died, before I ran away, I didn’t think I mattered to anyone. I thought no one would notice if anything happened to me. And I thought about – about going . . .”
He seems to pick up on her veiled meaning. “Oh, Zena.”
Zenie blinks, trying, in vain, to banish the hot pinpricks that have appeared in her eyes. “I know that’s not true now. I’m glad that I stuck around, because I would have missed so much if I were gone.”
The mattress groans as Shifty surges forward, plants a soft kiss on her cheek, and lingers there. “I’m glad you stuck around, Zena.” He says when he pulls away. “I’ll never be able to tell you how glad.”
Back in Bastogne, she had imagined that getting out of her childhood home would look like a scene out of an old fairytale. A handsome man would burst onto the scene, slay the dragon, free the maiden. But it didn’t turn out that way at all. The maiden fled with nothing but a hope in her heart. The prince ran into her along the way.
“You saved me, Shifty.”
Shifty smiles sadly. “Zena, you saved yourself.”
“What?”
“You didn’t know me when you ran away to join the Airborne,” Shifty reminds her. “That was all you. And you made the decision to leave and come find me.” His eyes look very serious when he repeats, “You saved yourself. I just happened to meet you along the way, and got to be a part of your adventure.”
Zenie sinks into her pillow, mulling it over. It doesn’t fit with the narrative that she’s been piecing together in the back of her mind all these months. She’ll have to think on it more to really understand it. But not right now.
Just like on their wedding day, Shifty reaches out and traces delicate shapes on her arm with a calloused finger. “You have more power than you think. Don’t give it away.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“Good.” It’s as good a conclusion as they can hope to reach now, with their sleepy minds and their overexcited hearts. As if to prove a point, Shifty’s eyes slip closed. “Gvgeyui.”
Zenie smiles, watching him slide into sleep. “Gvlvgwodi.”
I love you – I adore you.
#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers#shifty powers#shifty powers x ofc#band of brothers oc#band of brothers x ofc#hbo war#hbo war fanfic#like a girl (like a man)#oc zenie mcglamery#my writing
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