#TWO PEAS IN A POD. want the same things in life!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

minkieater · 4 months ago

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carousel – choi san ☄. *. ⋆

p. choi san x fem!reader g. non idol au, college boy!san w. smut minors dni PLS, alcohol consumption, smut is kinda kinky, toxic relationship, uhh san rocks you suck an. hello please don't be mad at me this had to happen for the lore, i also had to name you, apologies, if you share a name with shawty then congrats! if you've read luck you'll see some familiar stuff here, feel free to let me know anything you pick up on heheheh but seriously pls don't be mad at me wc. 10.7k

♫ – tear you apart, she wants revenge “it's only just a crush, it'll go away, it's just like all the others it'll go away or maybe this is danger and he just don't know”

cycle (sī-kel) noun a course or series of events or operations that recur regularly and usually lead back to the starting point

choi san regularly bounced between two moods.

the first being a state of contentment, the second being complete and utter destruction. when he was content, the two of you were usually on good terms, and he felt good enough that he could keep his life on track. he could get his work done, he could go to classes, he could socialize with his peers with a smile on his face.

when that peace was disturbed, more often than not by you, he was an absolute train wreck. all he could think about was you you you and when the two of you would fix things, if the two of you were really done this time, if he could reconcile the situation. sitting in class, remembering choreography at practice, being behind the bar at work… he couldn’t do a damn thing right. it wouldn’t be surprising if he forgot his own name when you were on bad terms.

san has never been a fighter. when arguments arise he’s usually never the one that starts them, he’s the one begging to end them, opting for a peaceful compromise instead. despite the way he looks, san is a softie, something that took you by surprise and kept you by his side for almost a year.

you know him. you know his favorite color, his favorite show, his favorite album, his parents’ names, where he grew up, why he’s in school, who’s putting him through school, his biggest fear, his dream in life. you see how he looks at you, how he drops everything for you in a second, how he talks about you when you aren’t around to defend yourself. you know him better than you know yourself sometimes — you’ve been two peas in a pod since the beginning of your sophomore year, but yet the same question remains. one he’s asked you hundreds of times, one you could never find an answer to without breaking his heart.

so instead you pick fights, argue to your heart’s content, damn near terrorize him on the regular just for the same fact to be true: choi san also knows everything about you.

he knows exactly why you aren’t together, why you beat around the bush every time he asks you that same question, the sole reason why you freak the fuck out every time he asks you to give him just a little bit more. choi san knows very well that his love is unrequited, and he understands even the things you won’t tell him. he knows who you really love, he knows you’ve loved him since the summer before your freshman year, when you met at that concert. he notices when your eyes are the brightest, who you’re looking at when he wished you were looking at him, when you laugh the loudest. he notices everything.

if he’s anything, it’s observant. he’s been hanging out with you and your friends since way before he was your little secret, he’s been on your friends’ rooftop for parties more times than he can count. the first time the two of you slept together he couldn’t believe it was actually happening, the second you looked at him with lowered eyes and glossy lips he thought his eyes had been deceiving him for months prior. you looked at him like he was your last meal, your prey that you caught with your bare hands, you needed to have him or you’d die of starvation. he let you take the reins, took it all in with open arms, he wasn’t going to question a thing. for how long you had been obsessed with chan, he’d been obsessed with you.

you’d met early in your freshman year, when chan had first gotten his apartment shared with three others, when they first started throwing their legendary parties that had been the talk of campus for ages to follow. san had gotten the invite through wooyoung, his best friend, whose close friend has dated chan’s roommate since freshman year. the moment he first saw you was nothing short of a movie scene, you were on the dance floor, definitely one too many drinks deep. you were dancing with felix, holding his hand, twirling your hair as he spun you in a circle. your smile, your eyes that were shut so delicately, your body that moved with such a fluidity, you were the embodiment of freedom. you looked like you couldn’t care less about anything, like the moon went down and the sun came up just so you could breathe another day. the world revolved around you. it was like everything he had ever done in his life leading up to this moment, each decision he made was to get him on this rooftop at this moment in the middle of soho.

san had a few drinks himself and found himself on the dance floor right beside you. minho was with him, a close friend from his dance class, and then felix beside you. he couldn’t help but steal you for himself. he brought out the dancer inside of him but still followed your lead, spun you himself just as felix had, let your backside dance across his front one too many times for comfort. you picked up on how he was holding back, letting himself match you instead of taking the lead, and you couldn’t ignore how it sparked your interest. anyone besides felix that wasn’t in your group of close friends would be mindlessly grinding against you with an eyebrow raised and a smirk, but not him.

for a moment you let yourself think the bar is deep in hell, then you introduced yourself (more like screamed your name at him) over the pounding music that could be heard two blocks down. the first thing you noticed were his broad shoulders before you took in the rest of his clearly strong build. complex, fox-like eyes that held too much power in them and a sweet smile that contrasted his hard demeanor, it all vexed you, but intrigued you so much more.

out of everything, his hands give you the most whiplash. where they were long and limber they felt soft and warm, even the calluses on his palms somehow felt softer than every man you’ve ever come in contact with. compared to his chest which felt hard and strong, the contradicting features forced your mind straight in the gutter. there’s no doubt he’s beautiful, anyone could see that from first glance, but in that deep, hypnotizing voice he has, you could hear what kept itself hidden. it was a facade, that build and sexy voice, you could tell just from a few words that he’s not what he appears to be.

at first glance you’d assume he was just like any typical guy, buff and egotistical and harsh. but looking for a moment in those eyes, listening to that soft voice, you could hear what he wasn’t saying, like his thoughts were being displayed for you on a silver platter. they enticed you to dig deeper, peel him open layer by layer, find out what no one else knows. beyond warm hands and a sturdy build, there was a softness to him that wasn’t inside of any other man on that rooftop. except one other.

by the end of the night, minho had led san to the notorious smoking corner, where he’d come to learn the same people tend to gather and hangout towards the end of the night. thankfully, one of those people was you, and the rest of your little group of friends that he’d later come more than acquainted with. none of you really smoke, which was the weird part, the smokers would come and go around your seating area, but it was still named the smoking corner despite it.

“you said your name was san, right?” you asked, an inviting smile on your face as he sat down right next to you on one of the cushioned chairs. it happened to be the only one open and had him thanking a god he didn’t believe in for the small favor.

he nodded quickly, tight lipped smile on his face, dimples on display. even with the liquor he was nervous, he wasn’t one to spark up conversation, especially at a party like this. “you’re a dancer?”

“how’d you know?” your smile somehow got bigger, eyes widening with surprise, “i’ve danced my whole life.”

he shrugs, “one dancer to another.”

“you go to NYU?” you asked, turning your body to face him in your own chair.

“dance program, i’m in the same hip hop class as minho,” he pointed to minho who was standing somewhere to the side of the two of you.

“ah,” you nod with a smile, “that makes sense, i’m in the theater program, i originally wanted to be in the dance program, though.”

“hey guys,” the two of you looked up at the same time, another pair of broad shoulders, massive biceps, and a beautiful smile staring straight at you. you could feel your heart rate pick up, your breath get caught in your throat, a heat cascading over you like the rooftop had suddenly raised fifteen degrees.

san could feel his smile leave his face as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. the way your eyes lit up, the pink that raised to your cheeks, how you slightly stumbled over your words when you first spoke to him, he tried not to let his expression drop to a scowl. he knows you like him, maybe even love him, he couldn’t decide from the short interaction between the three of you. not that he wanted to know, anyways.

san decided then and there that chan was his enemy, a one sided war he was willing to put up the good fight for. from a quick dance and a conversation, he had decided you were worth the fight, you were worth the long game, you were worth whatever it took to get you. he thinks it shouldn’t be too hard to win you over, with some effort and consistency, he should be the one you look at the way he desperately wants you to in no time. he knew he was good looking, he sees how women fawn over him left and right at parties, only sometimes letting them get any further then silly attempts to take him home. that ping of jealousy only jumpstarts his motivation, begs him to tap into whatever is making these women throw themselves at him.

five parties and three months later, you made him feel like he was in the lead. small conversations here and there, longer dances that with each party turned more and more scandalous, once or twice you clearly felt him behind you on the dance floor and you didn’t pull away, you kept going until you made it so evident he couldn’t hide it in his jeans. moments of hands brushing and stolen glances across the smoking corner, he waited long enough, but he’d wait however long it took for you.

the night when you gave him that look that he knew meant you were taking him home, he couldn’t contain his excitement, he couldn’t hide anything from you already. you could see it all over his face, he could tell from the smirk you wore on your own lips and the cocky laugh you let out. you were playing with fire, and his specialty was water.

you knew he wanted you from the first time you met. whether he knew it about himself or not, despite his easygoing words and soft hands, you knew there was a side to him you desperately needed to unveil, you needed to experience, you needed to know like the back of your hand. it felt like tainting his innocence the more you got to know him, his personality reflected the opposite of what he portrayed on the outside. from that hard, chiseled look he has to the soft, tender persona, you wanted to tear him apart. you wanted to know what made him tick, what pissed him off, what got under his skin, how he acted when it did.

you had him exactly where you wanted him, and he was letting it happen, fully aware of the attraction that was finally being returned. you looked at him differently that night, and unbeknownst to him, it was deliberate.

chan was out of sight, off with some dark haired girl he met hours prior. you watched the scene unfold in front of you, from when they exchanged names and phone numbers down to the moment when chan took her hand and led her inside his apartment. you watched them over heads through the dance floor, keeping your vision focused on the two of them like some fucked up form of tunnel vision. like what they say about trainwrecks, you should look away, but for some reason you can’t. your skin was burning, you were beyond angry, feeling an emotion that laid somewhere outside of what you’d ever experienced toward him. betrayal? abandonment? treachery?

none of your feelings were valid, chan had no idea how you felt, you never told him. he was more than allowed to take whatever dark haired bitch he wanted into his own damn apartment that seungmin’s dad pays for, that’s more than permissible. you have an apartment too, one that you and your roommate pay for yourselves, one that you could also take someone back to. your life didn’t revolve around him, his actions would not determine how your night would go, despite the feelings you have for him.

that’s when choi san caught your eye, across the crowd with his gorgeous face and incredible body. you felt the light bulb flash above your head, you knew exactly what would take the edge off, what would mend the heart chan had just broken in two.

“you know, we always hangout here, but we never see each other outside of these parties,” you flipped your hair over your shoulder, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“never thought you wanted to,” he shrugs, lowered eyes watching your every move like he was waiting for the switch to flip.

“and why wouldn’t i want to? have you looked in a mirror recently?” it felt lame when it left your mouth, he didn’t seem to agree as a faint blush crept onto his cheeks. he turned away from you, a low chuckle leaving his lips.

“every morning at the gym, gotta make sure my form is right,” his shy smile turned into a faint smirk, and your own grows, hints of mischief creeping at the corners. you knew exactly what he was doing, mentioning the gym. like a moth to a flame, your eyes glazed over his biceps, which he flexed the moment your eyes left his.

“every morning? very disciplined, aren’t you?” you ask, smile turning lopsided and nothing short of flirty.

“very,” he nodded his head, “you should come with me sometime, get you some discipline, too.”

“and what about me makes you think i’m not disciplined?” your eyebrows furrow, tilting your head.

with that question his smile grows, dimples showing themselves once more. “brats always need discipline, and that’s exactly what you are. a little tease.”

your smile displays all of your teeth, exactly the answer you were hoping for. the side you knew he had in him, that version of him not many get to see, excitement flooded through you like a tidal wave. you were on a power trip, your plan worked with ease, you wanted to pat yourself on the back.

“do something about it,” you sipped your drink through your tiny straw, staring at him through your lashes once again.

within thirty minutes you were back at your place in manhattan, your roommate still at the party, you didn’t even let her know you left. in that one conversation you’d forgotten all about chan, the girl with the dark hair, and why you were in this situation in the first place. all you could think about was san, with his dark chocolate eyes and honeyed skin and arms strong enough to flip you around. you were overflowing with adrenaline, excitement, and greed. you wanted all of him, needed all of him, a need that has been lying dormant for months. you’d been curious about him, wanted to know what he kept hidden inside, too focused on chan to dig deeper into him.

san couldn’t fucking believe it. couldn’t believe he was in your bed, your walls that were covered in posters of rock bands and singers from the 80s, some faces he’s seen before and plenty of others he hasn’t. records cover one wall, soundtracks from different musicals, little trinkets filling every inch of open space on your bookshelves. your room was so undeniably you, from the smell to the color scheme, he took every inch of it and burned it to memory. he tried not to stare too much in his learning, telling himself to focus on you instead, he’d he back, this isn’t a one time thing. he couldn’t be more right.

the moment his lips touched yours he couldn’t believe he’d gone so long without tasting you. a kiss so sweet, so rushed, so hungry, he’d never felt anything like it. he knew you'd wreck him, become too important to him, become a valued person in his life, for a moment he thought maybe he should stop – this was all too good to be true.

when you whimpered in his mouth after a light grind to his crotch, he took all of his thoughts back. there was no stopping this, no hands could pry him off of you, he needed to see every bit of you. he needed to kiss every inch of your skin, inhale the scent of your sweat, he yearned to worship you. he wanted all of you, he needed to rein himself in, not get too excited so he could last.

you fought for dominance on his lap, tongues in a rushed wrestle, strong thighs wrapped around his hips. as those soft hands of his squeezed the fat of your ass, you let out a yelp, grinding yourself into him. you wanted to hear any kind of noise, any harsh breath he might release. you wanted control, he didn’t want to give it up, at least not without a fight.

he scooped your waist with one arm, flipping you over, pressing you flat against the mattress. you mustered out a hushed fuck as the realization finally hit you: his biceps aren’t just for aesthetics, the sheer strength of one is enough to throw you around, and it’s strength he will use to his advantage.

“as much as i want to be thrown around,” you broke the kiss for a moment, “save it for the next time.”

you wrapped your legs around his waist and lunged yourself forward with your hands, hips on top of his once more, your bodies sitting upright. as much as you wanted to revel in the gain of dominance, you knew he just willingly allowed you to do that, he could’ve stopped you with ease if he wanted to.

“see what i mean? brat,” he broke the kiss again with a huff, a smirk painting his own lips for a moment before returning them to yours.

your right hand moved up to grip his throat, pushing him an inch away from you. on his lap you were taller, staring down at him, he looked up at you with a spark in his eyes you haven't seen yet. his eyebrows furrowed, not in confusion or hurt, but want. need. he liked this, he wanted this, and you couldn’t help the wicked smile that touched every feature on your face.

“watch your mouth,” you tilted your chin up, looking down at him at a harsher angle, the act itself a display of dominance. in combination with the harsh tone to your words, he nearly quivered in your grasp. a strangled groan left his lips as your grip tightened for a moment, blocking his airway, before releasing him completely. you reached for the hem of his shirt, ripping it over his head with ease.

“look at you, so fucking sexy,” you said as the cotton hit the floor, examining his exposed upper half in awe. chiseled abs, even sitting down, and a chest you’re sure could knock you out if it came in contact with your head. he was beautiful, perfect even, not an inch of him unsculpted.

his breath turned heavy under your stare, eyes lowering into a different version of himself, a submission of sorts. he had no fight left in them, he gave up control, let you take it, and you were going to run with it.

you brought your lips to his jaw, kissing down his neck, hands running over every inch of bare skin. he tugged at your top at the same time, tugging it over your head, unclasping your bra with just one hand.

“done that before?” you asked with raised eyebrows and a playful smile, and he chuckled.

“once or twice,” his reply was mindless as you fumbled with his belt buckle beneath you, slipping it out of the loops, throwing it to the floor.

“hungry?” you asked and his eyes quickly met yours, confusion crossing them before realization set in. you didn’t wait for an answer as you pushed him back on the bed with your index finger to his chest, not having to muster up any force at all.

you quickly sat up and slipped off your jeans and underwear, leaving yourself bare in front of him. he leaned up on his elbows for just a moment before you crawled back on top of him, further up his body until you sat right over his face.

“no touching unless i tell you to,” your voice was stern, he nodded in understanding and you took that as the green light to plant yourself on his awaiting face.

you moaned the moment his tongue came in contact with your soaked center, lapping up everything you had to offer. you stilled for a moment, letting him work himself on you, his tongue gliding through your wetness.

“fuck, sannie, so fucking good,” you moaned out, a hand reaching down to tug at his styled black hair. he groaned in response, hands lifting off of the bed, but they didn’t touch you, didn’t even come close.

you started riding his face and he stuck his tongue out in response to your movements, letting you have your way with him, grinding back and forth to use him for your own release. if you weren’t gone in your own pleasure you would’ve smiled at the eagerness, the willingness to please you.

“fingers, please baby,” you gasped out, babbling your words, “need you to make me cum. you wanna make me cum, don’t you? all over your face?”

his right hand came between your legs to slip two fingers inside of you, mouth moving up to your clit, wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves. he curved his fingers toward himself immediately, hitting that one spot inside of you that made you see stars, you started babbling and whining praise like you’d been doing this together for years.

“so fucking good sannie, fuck,” you cried out, grinding yourself against him, the knot in your stomach tightening with every harsh suck to your clit. he brought his other hand up to smack your ass and you moaned out, the dam bursting, your release coating his fingers, past his knuckles. you rode out your high, his fingers and mouth working in tandem to get you through it before overstimulation set in.

“mm, taste so fucking good baby, could eat you all night,” he announced the second you lifted yourself off of him, his voice octaves lower than earlier. you watched as he licked his lips so erotically, the action making you want to sit yourself back on his face and ride him until he couldn’t breathe.

you sat next to him on the bed after climbing off of him instead, your orgasm took the need for control right out of you, you had your fill. you wanted to be taken care of, filled up, you didn’t want to think about anything other than your own pleasure. always observant san picked up in your change of energy, letting his own switch to another before continuing.

“need to be inside you,” he said as he sat up, taking his jeans and boxers off in one go, “you have a condom?”

you shimmied yourself down the bed, head hitting the pillow before you shook it, “‘m on the pill.”

“dirty girl, where did that energy from earlier go? hm?” that dangerous smirk returned to his face, his dominance returning in just one sentence, “did i eat it all out of you? wanna be a good girl for me now?”

he leaned himself over you, strong arms beside your head caging you in. you lifted your knees up to your elbows, spreading yourself for him.

“shut up,” you mumbled, feeling the tinge of embarrassment, “fuck me already.”

“that wasn’t very polite, thought you were ready to behave,” he shook his head, “only girls with manners get fucked. should i put my pants back on, go back home?”

“no! no, don’t go,” your arms came up to grab onto his, your eyes widening, “i’m sorry, i’ll be good. please, san, i need you.”

a wicked smile crossed his face before he leaned down to plant a kiss on your own, “good, i hoped so. breathe for me, okay?”

you glanced down between your legs, realizing you hadn’t even seen him. you nearly gasped at the size of him, eyes widening, his length was perfect but the girth of him was more than intimidating. he spit into his hand, stroking himself, lubing himself up to slide into you easier. you nearly drooled at the sight, mouth agape, pussy clenching around nothing.

the whole act felt so sinful, so carnal, you so easily opened up to him with a side of yourself you don’t show until you’re fully comfortable. you blame your adrenaline, your hormones, how horny you were when you arrived, ignoring the real fact of how comfortable he made you feel to show so much of yourself to him.

as he lined himself up you couldn’t ignore how it all felt right, you’ve had undeniable attraction to him for months now, but this… this was something entirely different. this was a beginning, the prologue chapter of a novel, the first episode to seasons spent with him. when he pushed himself into you and you had to physically remind yourself to breathe, you had to acknowledge that he fit so perfectly with you, his body felt like it was meant to be above yours. these weren’t feelings of a quick fuck, feelings from a one night stand, this was raw, intimate, unique. special.

“so fucking big,” you huffed out, voice strained, eyes squeezed shut, fingers clawing at his biceps.

“breathe, baby, you got it,” he praised you, encouraged you, and it did what it needed to. you breathed in and out, let him sheathe himself inside of you. as he bottomed out he groaned, a beautiful noise, one that could lure you to sleep if you heard it enough. he stayed there for a moment, letting you get used to the stretch, letting you relax around him.

“so fuckin’ tight, baby, breathe,” he instructed, leaning down on his elbows to kiss you, distract you, take your mind off of the stretch. you tried your best to relax your muscles, unclench yourself from around him.

“there you go,” his praises were a sweet song, easing you out of discomfort, “tell me when i can move.”

you waited a few moments, returning your lips to his before grinding yourself against him. you felt your slick coating him, helping you glide up and down, and he let you for a moment — just a moment before he knew for sure you were comfortable.

he pulled all the way out before bottoming out once more, and you yelped into his mouth, breaking the kiss to let your head lean back into the pillow.

“there it is, there we fucking go,” he mumbled as he started on a rhythm, “good fucking girl.”

a string of moans left your lips, your hands still clawing at his biceps, body reacting to him without your brain allowing it. “so fucking good sannie.”

“thought you were so fucking badass earlier, huh? ordering me around like i’m your bitch?” that smirk returned to his lips again and all you could do was moan, staring at him through half lidded eyes, “look at you now, baby. all lifeless and limp, all for this dick?”

“yes, san, all for you. just for you,” you mumble, words jumbling together, not knowing if your words even sounded clear.

“yeah, baby, just as i thought, all for me,” he pistols himself into you, grabbing your hips, making you meet his thrusts. you were losing your strength, letting him have his way with you, just an incoherent mess beneath him.

he reaches forward and grabs your jaw, “don’t go anywhere, eyes on me.”

you look up to him, eyes wide, that fuzzy space you were slipping into locked away for now, “you can go there eventually, not yet, not this time.”

your eyes started to roll back as he shifted his hips upward, the mushroom tip of him rolling against that one spot so deliciously. with how quickly that knot formed once more in your stomach, you were surprised that drool wasn’t slipping down your chin.

“right there, please don’t stop, gonna make me cum,” you can’t even hear yourself, so drunk on his dick, his assertiveness, you loved it. you’d never had your energy matched like this, never had a fuck like this, never had someone know you so quickly and easily.

“hold it,” he ordered, and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. how could he expect you to hold it, when he was hitting that spot too perfectly, doing everything in his power to get you there?

“i swear, do not fucking cum,” he smacked your hip and tears formed in your eyes trying to hold it, fighting every nerve in your body to not release around him.

“i can’t! i can’t,” you babble, tears falling down your cheeks, and he released a long fuck, his voice dropping even lower.

“cum for me, want you to cum around me, please,” his orders turned to begs quickly after he saw your tears. he leaned forward to wipe them off your face, bringing his fingers up to his lips. the string snapped and you gushed around him, legs shaking, a loud cry leaving your lips, probably heard in queens from the sheer volume of it.

“where do you want me?” he quickly asked, his own words sounding shaky, slurring together.

“inside, inside,” you begged, reaching up to cup his cheeks. he leaned down to kiss you as he released himself inside you, filling you up, thrusts slowing as he worked himself through it.

he stayed there for a moment, forehead pressed against yours, heavy breaths being poured into each other’s mouths. he sighed as his forearms began to shake, finally pulling out of you, laying next to you.

“you okay?” he turned his head at the same time as you turned yours, eyes sharing too much of something yet saying nothing of it.

“‘m great, you?” you cracked a smile, the both of you still somewhere that wasn’t here, slowly coming back from two completely different headspaces. he nodded, returning the smile, and the two of you laid there for what felt like ages.

sleeping with san was something outside of anything you’ve ever done. you’d slept with plenty of people, had plenty of experiences, explored what you liked and didn’t through many trials and errors. to have such an incredible first experience with someone, to have it flow so easily, to match each other so perfectly… it was almost unbelievable, it set unrealistic expectations for anyone you’d ever sleep with again.

you needed him that night, needed that experience, needed whatever was going to distract you from whatever the hell chan was doing – and it worked. you needed that distraction for months to follow as chan continued to see the dark haired girl, who’s name you came to find out was eden, always hanging around on the rooftop, following him wherever he went. like a roach, never wanted, yet never went away.

months you spent cooped up in your room, anger flowing through your blood as you watched his instagram stories, cute pictures of her posted every day. posed pictures together in times square, clubs on the weekends, clips of them getting drinks together on a random weekday afternoon. you couldn’t help but pick everything apart – what they were doing was touristy, corny, nothing you would do with him, nothing you would enjoy. you knew chan didn’t enjoy any of that, either.

every time you pictured dates with him or fantasized about any time spent with him alone was always private, intimate, enriching – you’d be painting together, drinking wine in your living room as you played your favorite board game, watching a tv show from start to finish together. you were in the same major, maybe even studying together, bouncing ideas off of one another for assignments or projects, but nothing so flashy. chan hates time square, hates drinking in the middle of the day, and especially hates clubs unless there was a special occasion. you knew all of these things, you knew him, you felt the same way as him. yet he was still doing all of those things with her, playing in her garden, wasting his time when he should be focused on school, his career, his future, you.

in those months there was only one thing that could make you forget about chan, forget about eden, forget about the situation altogether. during class you were frustrated, in auditions, rehearsals, you couldn’t even study without the tv on and music playing simultaneously. if you had a singular moment of silence your brain took you back to him, took you back to what you could’ve had, what you never tried for in the first place. it was debilitating not being able to get anything done, being so one track minded, the only thing that could make you focus was san. you’d text him daily, always asking him to come over, always ending the night between his thighs.

he always came, he always said yes, he never once said no to you. he didn’t ask any questions, didn’t make you explain your frustrations, only listened when you did speak about trivial things like school or rehearsal. you didn’t want his opinion, didn’t want his advice, only his company and the pleasure he never had any difficulty in giving you. it was perfect for those months, in your own world, the sanctuary you created in your bedroom with choi san.

the moment when your relationship changed, you didn’t notice. there was no light bulb, no moment where you consciously started looking at him differently, yet it changed without your knowing or consent. you didn’t acknowledge it when you did notice, you didn’t want to, your heart was saved for another. yet you still talked about everything together, did all of those little things you dreamed of doing with chan. your fears, your dreams, your childhood, your favorite things, you began to know him so intimately without being aware of it. you watched grey’s anatomy with him, you played video games, you drew funky little doodles of each other on your notebooks.

you started to crave him when he wasn’t around, and not just because he was your distraction, but a friend. he was good for you, he encouraged you to be consistent with school, you practiced lines with him, sang duets from different musicals with him. your relationship was raw, it was truth, it was naked, it was everything you wished for, it was everything you needed at that time.

san fell for you. he fell so fucking hard, so headfirst, it was a bottomless pit with no end in sight and he couldn’t stop himself from digging further. everything he saw in you that first night was still there, only amplified into something he couldn’t hide anymore. he was at your beck and call, anything you needed, any time of day. he knew why you were so attached to him, he figured it out the second he went to the rooftop with wooyoung again, high off of his night spent with you, ready to see you again. when you were nowhere to be seen and he caught chan with his arm around the girl from his contemporary class, he put the pieces together quick. he knew you must be heartbroken, knew you needed support, a friend who knew nothing about the situation. it quickly made him realize his place in your relationship.

he fought through the horrific realization with optimism, the returning thought that with time you’d see, you’d realize he was better for you than chan could ever be. as he spent more time with you and got to know you better, it only made his feelings deepen. your laugh, your thoughts, your competitive side, the way you’re so quick to fight back and assert your dominance, but give it up even faster… it was like an addiction, it wasn’t good for him, he knew it wasn’t, he knew it when his grades first started to slip. when he wasn’t on point at practice, too sleep deprived to remember choreography. minho read it all over him, knew something was wrong, knew san had gotten into something he shouldn’t have.

“what’s up with you, man? this isn’t like you,” it was a rough practice that day. san was sat on the floor with his knees hugged tight to his chest, rubbing his eyes to force the exhaustion out of them.

“just an off day,” is all san mumbled before he stood up slowly, grabbing his bag to sling over his shoulder.

“off day? you’ve been fucking up for the past week, san, you’re center,” minho put his hand on san’s shoulder, stopping him before he walked away, “they’re gonna put someone else there if you don’t get your shit together.”

“i get it, minho,” san turned his back, and minho’s grip only got tighter.

“what the hell is going on?” he asked, turning san to face him, “you can talk to me, we’re friends, you know.”

san’s hand returned to his face, trying to rub off his discomfort, this feeling that he should keep everything to himself, “it’s a lot.”

“is it a girl?” minho was quick with the question, eyes lowered, seeming to read san before he could get any words out. he started to walk, keeping his hand on san’s shoulder, encouraging him to walk alongside him.

san answered with a coy nod, the answer seeming too taboo to say out loud. minho was a direct link to chan, he should be happy to talk about the fact that you were sleeping together. what he couldn’t shake off was the fear that you’d be angry at him for telling anyone.

“did you get her pregnant or something?” humor was laced in minho’s tone, trying to ease up the straightforwardness of the question, but he was genuinely worried by how san had been acting.

san gasped, “preg- no! god, no,” he shook his head, “i hope not.”

minho laughed, “that doesn’t sound convincing. if she’s not pregnant then there’s no reason to be so torn up, why are you?”

they walked out of the building into the wet humidity of the city air, “like i said, it’s a lot. it’s my fault, though.”

“quit beating around the bush and tell me,” minho stood still, staring at san expectantly, “you can trust me.”

“if i’m going to tell you, i need a beer.”

an hour later they were seated at prince, not a popular dive bar in the city, but popular amongst your group of friends and whoever they introduced to it. san nursed his beer, barely getting two sips in before he was spilling everything about the last six months to one of his best friends.

“i can’t wrap my head around why you keep fucking her if she loves another guy,” minho shrugs, “especially chan, at that. she’s been close with him since he moved to the city.”

“it’s not about fucking her,” san sighed, “i’m in too deep, i think i love her. even if i didn’t, and it was just about sex, it’s too good to stop.”

minho’s jaw physically drops, mouth hanging agape for a moment before he snaps it shut, straightening his left hand to start counting on his fingers, “so you love her, she doesn't know you love her, she loves someone else who’s in a relationship, and you spend every free moment with her. and you have so much sex you don’t sleep.”

san’s lips pull into a tight line, giving minho one long nod in response.

“there’s no way she doesn’t love you back if you’ve spent that much time together in six months, i can’t believe you kept all of this shit hidden for so long. you need to talk shit out, man.”

it was music to his ears, san’s entire body filled with a joy he’d never felt before when no way she doesn’t love you back left minho’s lips. he felt like he was putting a puzzle together in his brain, that actually made perfect sense, how could you not return anything he felt for you? you also experienced all your time together, got just as close to him as he did you.

he barely gave minho another half hour before he was barreling out of prince and on his way to your apartment.

“hey baby, how was practi-”

“i need to ask you a question.”

your head whipped to your front door, never hearing san sound so desperate outside of the bedroom. his eyes were blown, his eyebrows raised, fully out of breath from running up the flights of steps to your apartment. your blood ran cold, you knew this question was coming eventually, you were savoring every moment he didn't ask it. you stood slowly, facing him from the couch, eyes expectant.

“i’ll give you an answer,” you replied casually, keeping your voice steady.

“do you want to be with me?” his words felt empty, as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say them, yet he still sounded like he’d been dying to ask the question for months. he didn’t blink, kept his shoulders back, dance bag dangling from his fingertips.

“san,” you said calmly, taking a step towards him.

“i don’t want to freak you out, please don’t freak out, it’s just been six months and i really enjoy you and your company and i love being around you, i love spending nights with you, the sex is incredible, everything just seems right,” a smile graces his lips with a pause. when you stared back at him in disbelief he panicked, his heart in his throat, “i’m sorry if i freaked you out, this is too much, isn’t it?”

you took a breath, closing your eyes for a moment. the day you’d been dreading had come – the end of a perfect half year.

“i can’t be in a relationship right now,” you blurt the first thing that came to mind, and his face dropped immediately. “i enjoy you, i love our time spent together, i love that you’re around all the time, you’ve been a huge help to me these past six months. i couldn’t of done it without you.”

you��ve been told these words before, you’ve been in his position before, you’re spouting the same venom that’s been thrown at you. you felt as if you were shoved in a corner, not fully believing your own words, but you needed an excuse more than you wanted to say the truth.

a sad smile crosses his face, “i get it.”

“i don’t want to stop whatever this is,” you walk closer to him, grabbing his hand, “and it could grow into something really great. i’m just not in a position to open my heart to anyone right now.”

“i know, baby. the last six months have been rough on you,” his heart melted, even if he knew the reason why, he also knew that it really did hurt you. you needed time to heal, time to focus on yourself, time to get back into the dating scene. he’d be there, first in line when you were ready.

“i knew you’d understand, thank you,” you stood on your toes, attaching your lips to his. ten minutes later you were on your knees, right back to normal like that conversation didn’t even happen.

in just two weeks you’d started going out more regularly again, meeting your friends at prince, going to chan’s rooftop whenever felix told you to come. your friends that noticed, despite you keeping your appearances up, asked where you’d been, why you’re back, and you gave them the sophomore year bullshit of classes were hard and summer is here again! at your age, parties were a dime a dozen, you had plenty of excuses to be out of the house and away from your issues, stopping reality from hitting you that you were playing with fire once again.

you did have feelings for san, even if it was your own fucked up version. there was no way you couldn’t with how much time you spent together, how much you know about him, how much you care for him. but the other problem that you will never forget is still there, staring at you from across his own rooftop.

you care for san, but the love you feel for bang christopher chan is so much fucking more.

“hey! i feel like i haven’t seen you in ages!” his smile is huge as he crosses the crowd, clinking his drink with your own. you blushed, that was basically him saying i missed you.

“same here, how’s everything been? happy classes are over?” you asked, gripping your drink a little tighter.

“incredibly happy classes are over, even happier this terrible fucking year is over,” he chuckled, “me and eden broke up, i don’t know if you heard. she cheated on me with some columbia architect, whatever.”

broke up? he’s… single again?

your jaw dropped, and you fought to keep the excitement to a minimum, “no, i didn’t know, i’m so sorry, channie. fuck her and that architect!”

he laughed again, a belly laugh that made you want to jump his bones, “what about you, though? seeing anyone?”

his question took you by surprise, “i- uh, no, i’m not,” your giggle was nervous, wanting to change the subject immediately. san crossed your mind, a thought you quickly shut down.

“you’re never seeing anyone, dude, we have to set you up with somebody, can’t go through your whole college experience without a shitty boyfriend or two,” it was a joke, a bad one, but it still made heat rise to your whole upper half. why was he asking? he’s never asked about your love life before.

“i’m good off a shitty boyfriend, i’d rather be alone if that’s the case,” you shake your head, then sip through your tiny straw.

“suit yourself,” he palmed your shoulder with a hand that completely enveloped it, and you felt the skin underneath burn.

you felt eyes boring into your head from behind you, and you quickly turned, scanning the area. you saw your roommate and her boyfriend in the smoking corner, minho and han, then san, who was leaning against the concrete of the wall separating the rooftop from the drop to the ground below. like a hawk, he watched you through lowered eyes, taking in every move. you quickly turned back around, expecting chan to still be there, but he was gone, probably off being a good host to his party. you wiped the chill off of you, finishing off your drink, dismissing the guilty feeling creeping up your spine because chan is single again. determination washes over you, this time you’d be hell bent upon telling him how you feel, finally getting your chance to be with him. it was your turn this time.

san was beyond frustrated. watching you talk to chan after all of these months, even from afar, picking up your body language, he was sick to his stomach. the way you shifted from foot to foot, unconsciously leaned into his touch, flipped your hair behind your back to show off your décolletage, san could pick up on exactly what you were thinking and he hated it.

san wasn’t in the lead, he was forever the number two, your favorite best kept hidden secret. he was sick of it, sick of being with you behind closed doors, sick of dropping everything for you, sick of being under your spell. he knew his place, knew it enough to where he didn’t even approach you on the rooftop. he knew there would be a call, a text, a fucking messenger pigeon that would get him in your bed tonight, he was sure of it. when chan went back inside the apartment for the night and didn’t have a soul beside him, he knew exactly how the outcome of the night would go, and he was excited for it.

as san slammed your apartment door shut behind him, you jumped nearly a foot in the air, turning to furrow your eyebrows. the two of you ended up leaving together, an outcome that wasn’t on his list of possibilities – no messenger pigeon needed. he was surprised, he didn’t think you’d even want to be seen getting in the same car as him.

“what was that for?” the slam startled you, it was unlike him, he was delicate with everything he did.

“i’m sick of this, ri,” he shook his head, standing by the entrance to your kitchen, not following you into the living room. your stomach dropped, you should’ve seen this coming.

“what do you mean?” you opted for obliviousness after a pause, unsure of how to go about this conversation again after your last one was just two weeks ago.

“i’m sick of being your secret, whatever the hell i am to you,” he ran a hand through his hair, “actually, that’s a good question. what am i to you, riley?”

you gulped, your eyes widening, coming to yet another moment of silence. you didn’t know how to answer, didn’t know how to tell him what you didn’t know yourself.

“you don’t know? or you know and can’t say it?” he understands your silence, using his hands as he speaks, “tell me the truth.”

“i don’t know, san, a friend?” your voice is unsure, small. you wanted to shrink yourself, wanted to be anywhere but here, having this conversation. this is the first time you’ve seen this side of him, you and san had never argued before, the last time you had this talk it didn’t have any anger or frustration.

“a friend? i’m a friend?” he laughs, a sarcastic chuckle that you’ve never heard leave his lips. you must’ve gotten away with it two weeks ago, this was really the end, there was only one way this talk could go. “a friend that knows every inch of you, a friend that’s spent more time here the past six months than the apartment they still pay rent at? that’s a fucking joke, riley.”

tears gathered in your eyes, ones that you weren’t exactly sure why they were there, you felt caught. bombarded with a choice you didn’t want to make. he was finally understanding your web of lies, finally over it, over you. you weren’t ready to let him go, you wanted to continue to live in your bubble with him, you wanted him to stay. you didn’t let them fall.

“what do you want me to say?” you don’t have a rebuttal, you don’t have any sly words that could change the topic, even momentarily change what he’s feeling. you chose anger, deflection.

“i want more, ri. i want you, i’ve wanted you since i met you. there’s no way you don’t know that,” he sighs, turning around, running that same hand through his hair.

“and i can’t give you more, san, so what do you want me to do? force myself into something i’m not ready for? i’ve told you my piece,” you walk towards him, standing just a few steps from him.

“no, riley, i don’t want you to force yourself into being with me, that’s ridiculous. when we’re in public you barely look at me, let alone speak to me. what are you so afraid of? why can’t anyone know about… this?” he turned around, his own eyes glossy, looking down at you through damp eyelashes. your blood ran cold, colder than it had been from the moment he slammed the door, that familiar guilty feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach.

“why do you need people to know? why do you need our relationship to be publicized? is being with me, here like this, not enough for you?” the laugh you let out was dry, calculated, “if it’s not enough then maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

a small gasp left his lips, barely audible it could’ve been just an intake of air, his visage twisted the moment you spoke those words. with his lips and eyebrows turned downward, that slight anger, frustration, morphed into a sadness you never wanted to see again.

“that’s not what i want,” his voice is smaller than you’ve ever heard it, a shy mumble, his gaze pointed downward at his fingers which played with his rings. “i don’t want to fight with you.”

“i know, baby,” you stepped forward, placing a hand on his soft, reddened cheek, “i don’t want to fight with you, either. want you to be happy.”

“i’m happy with you,” his voice cracked, a raw tone, as he glanced back up at you. his eyes red, glossed over, full of emotion, it broke your heart. you could never truly make him happy, you knew that, but you could momentarily.

“then let me take care of you,” and that you did, like you always did, the same way you did two weeks ago. you rode him to oblivion, until he forgot why he was upset in the first place, the same thing he did for you six months ago.

a week later, you’d fought again. plenty of times.

almost every day for the whole week you started an argument over something so fucking stupid and you couldn’t stop. everything he did pissed you off, every time he tried to fix it, it pissed you off even more. you were overflowing with so many different emotions you couldn’t breathe, you needed space, you needed him, you needed chan. you were too overstimulated to think clearly, if you were ever thinking clearly to begin with.

the guilt from not returning his feelings, but not being at ease when he isn’t sleeping in your bed.. it didn’t make any sense. you felt insane, suffocated in the overwhelming feelings you couldn’t bring yourself to return. you liked san, you liked everything about him, but the fervent feelings he had towards you mirrored what you felt for chan.

there was now nothing left unsaid. there was no unspoken deal between you anymore, no weapon left to use to let yourself get off without consequence. you were uncomfortable, uncomfortable with his feelings, uncomfortable with your own, you felt shoved in a corner you couldn’t walk away from.

the only things that stayed consistent in that week were chan’s rooftop, chan’s living room, and his incessant need to talk to you every damn time you were there.

san felt like he was losing his goddamn mind.

he wished he could go back in time and take back everything he said, his confession, his feelings, he had ruined everything. you would go from not answering him to getting pissed off that he answered your text with ok instead of okay… it seemed like he couldn’t do anything right, in a constant state of fear that today would be the day you break it off with him for real.

his day to day life was only getting worse. he was making cocktails wrong at work, not replacing ice, handing the wrong beer to patrons at the bar. he got replaced again in his spot for his dance class, reprimanded by his teacher, minho gave him not one but two additional talks about getting his shit together.

he hadn’t seen you since the night you argued two weeks ago, he hasn’t even been going out for just a glimpse of you, he’s been playing catch up for what felt like weeks. to make matters worse, he was pent up, he’d been so used to a consistent sex life, he needed release. he needed a night to let go of you, all of the whiplash he’d endured for weeks now, he needed a night to just be himself. to forget.

he called wooyoung, his best friend who was always out in the city, always had plans. thankfully he was going to a club that night to celebrate your roommate’s recent internship acceptance. wooyoung assured him that you wouldn’t be there, it would only be a couple of your roommates' close friends. he didn’t ask why you wouldn’t be there, he tried to convince himself he didn’t care, he needed to start forgetting now.

he hopped out of bed and got ready fast, the clock already past eight, and headed over to meet the group before going to the club. they were all familiar faces from the rooftop, despite him only knowing wooyoung super intimately. all of the nights he spent at your apartment your roommate was usually at her boyfriend’s, and if she wasn’t, her and her boyfriend were cooped up in her bedroom.

but here he was, in a club he’s never heard of in the middle of manhattan celebrating her.

“have a drink, sannie, do something,” wooyoung slung his arm around san’s shoulder, bent behind the booth he was sitting at, “don’t just sit there and mope.”

san nodded, not having much to say if it didn’t have to do with you. he sipped his beer mindlessly, listening to everyone talking around him, their conversation had to be more entertaining then the jail he created for himself in his own mind.

“...i’ve been trying to get them together for years! i’m so happy it’s finally happening!” your roommate says loud, drunkenly, talking to yunho’s girlfriend.

“years?” yunho’s girlfriend asked, brushing her hair behind her ear, “why the hell did it take so long?”

“when they met they were all just good friends, then i was introduced and started dating jeongin pretty much immediately, i’m the one who noticed how she felt about him. she wouldn’t admit it for ages, until i finally got it out of her, and pretty much immediately after that chan started dating eden, you remember her, right?” san’s ears perked up at that, his stomach dropping immediately. he put the pieces together quicker than ki could run her mouth. the drinks from the pregame clearly made her filter pretty much nonexistent, this is a conversation he wasn’t supposed to be listening to, something he wasn’t supposed to hear. she didn’t notice the extra ear, but her boyfriend did.

“ki,” jeongin interrupted, eyes glancing back and forth between san and his girlfriend, talking over yunho’s girlfriend.

ki ignored him, too deep in her own conversation, “yes! like two weeks ago or something it finally clicked, they’ve been seeing each other since.”

“who?” san interrupted, panic in his voice.

he knew who, from the bottom of his heart. a little over two weeks ago was when san started the fight between the two of you, ever since then you’d been off. he hasn’t seen you. he knows damn well who.

ki’s eyes were wide, her jaw agape, and jeongin’s hand went to his forehead.

“san, i-”

“who are you talking about, ki?” san sat a little straighter, his chin jutting out, “who’s been seeing chan for the past two weeks?”

“i think you already know who, san, i didn’t realize you didn’t know?” ki’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, her hand holding her drink a little bit tighter. yunho’s girlfriend looked between san and ki, also confused, too nervous to ask any questions. the tension was thick in the air, too heavy for a night of celebration. san could feel the control he had over himself lessening by the second.

san laughs, a dark chuckle, and something inside of him shifts. he’s done, he’s so fucking done. he feels stupid, it’s always been chan from the start, it’s always going to be chan. he tried telling himself months ago that you would see he was better for you than chan ever could be, but he was clearly so fucking wrong. chan would always be your endgame, it would never be him, no matter what he did for you. no matter how much he tried for you. no matter how much he begged for you.

everything he’s been feeling for the past two weeks, the confusing feelings, the constant begging just to see you, the amount of apologies he’d given to someone who didn’t fucking deserve them. how many times had you texted him when you were next to chan? how many times had you ignored him because you were next to chan?

san doesn’t get angry, san isn’t a fighter. san’s always been a peacekeeper, a problem solver, water to put out the fire.

he is so fucking over it.

he thought about his grades, how long it’d taken him to bring them back up. his rehearsals, his performances, the center positions that had been taken away from him. how many bottles of beer he’d thrown away at work from constant fuck ups. how many times he’s gotten grilled from more people than he can count on his hands.

he ignored ki, instead he looked into the crowd, suddenly remembering exactly where he was. he reached forward and grabbed one of the bottles yunho bought and took a long swig from it. he looked out in the crowd again and spotted a pretty little blonde thing almost immediately, and took a moment to reflect.

he remembered his life before you, before chan, before that fucking rooftop. how women fawned over him, flocked to him, how obsessed they were. how he didn’t have to try for anything or anyone. he passed the bottle to wooyoung behind him who was so taken aback he hadn’t said a word.

“san, we can leave, we can go, it’s okay,” wooyoung said, bent over once more, taking the bottle from san’s hand, “we don’t have to stay here, let’s go.”

“if you’re not going to drink that then give it back,” his reply is so curt it sliced through the air like the knife ki just put through his chest, “we are not leaving.”

wooyoung took a swig of the bottle, a proud smirk growing on his face, “finally, man. let’s be done with it already.”

2:27 am ri: u up? ri: i miss you

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez x reader #ateez smut #atiny #ateez fic #choi san #san ateez #ateez san #san x reader #choi san x reader #choi san ateez #choi san smut #san x you #san x y/n #choi san x you #choi san x y/n #choi san x female reader

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silassinclair · 6 months ago

Note

Hi! It's me the "Maddox with a sassy y/n" annon. Omg i just saw your post and it made my Whole Week! 😭

Thank you so much!

Anyway, i have a new request (if that is alright). I saw that you have a yandere Boxer but i didn't see to much info on him.

Could we get an introduction or some information for him? I'm really curious.

As always, have great day/night! ✨

Sorry this took a while to answer, just came back from the Philippines and I saw this req in my inbox. I’ve been waiting to write for him so now I have the chance to!! Hope you like it :D Also the beginning of this is really long, boring, and angsty but bear with me ya'll :) Also the Russian is google translate so it may be inaccurate :(

Masterlist Here!!

Next Part Here!!

Yandere Boxer x Reader

Viktor Markov was not the man you thought he was; well, not anymore. You both were raised in a small eastern European town. Him being the boy next door; always covered in dirt and was the sweetest little boy who would bring you flowers and bugs that he found. And you were the weird little girl who would collect the rocks and flowers that he gifted you with a smile. So naturally the two of you became friends, two peas in a pod.

He always had your back and you always had his. Growing up together in eastern Europe was hard. Both of you came from a pretty rough neighborhood and home life but that didn't stop you two from being happy. After all you only needed each other. It was just you two against the world. And it was like that for years.

Well, that was until high school. Viktor stopped talking to you in Sophomore year. Your calls went ignored, socials un-interacted, and texts delivered. So you just gave up. You no longer chased after him or begged him to tell you what was wrong when all he did was give you a cold shoulder. And honestly, you just didn't want to be around him anymore.

He got in with a bad crowd. Some upperclassmen guys who would just skip class to smoke. And seeing your childhood best friend become one of them broke your heart. You tried, you really did. But instead the blonde snapped at you, telling you to stop acting like his Mother and that he didn't need you anymore. And he was right, Viktor was more grown up now. Hard jawline, firm muscles, and standing at a staggering 6'3 feet tall.

He didn't need your back anymore.

And you didn't need his.

High school was a blur. You kept to your studies and only had a small circle of friends that consisted of all girls who have all been friends longer than before you ever came around. You were the grass friend. They all walked on the sidewalk while you trailed behind to the side; always stepping in the mud and grass. They weren't really your friends, you just didn't want to be alone. And they didn't see you as a friend, they just didn't want you to be alone. Pitiful isn't it?

But none of it mattered. It was all over and done in the blink of an eye. After high school was university and in university was medical school and after medical school was a new beginning. Being a docotor was never really your dream. It was your parent's dream and they just wanted the best for their little girl. You didn't want to disapoint them and go to culinary school like what you really wanted. So you worked and went to med school at the same time.

It was hard. It really was. You have no friends, no social life, and no one has your back. Yet it's your job to have people's backs. Ironic and unfair. But that's life.

Money was getting tight. Paying off student loans and working multiple jobs was getting exhausting. Living? No, it felt like you were dying. But you got offered a job you could not refuse. A patient came into your office. It was an older man in his early 50s.

"You're quite quiet for a doctor." He says. "Shy thing are you?"

You give him a silent nod. Hopefully this conversation doesn't take the turn you don't want it to take. Getting harassed by patients as a woman doctor is scarily common.

"I need a doctor. One like you; diligent, quiet, and quite the eye candy. Work for me krasivyy (beautiful). The pay is better than working in this heap clinic."

You eye him oddlyand whisper, "Why do you need me? Do you want me to be one of those underworld doctors or something? If so then no. I won't be patching up assassins or serial killers."

The man laughs, his voice booming in the small examination room.

"No no. You won't be dealing with any of those type. But this still is underground as you say. I own an underground boxing ring. And I need a doctor to patch up my fighters. Illegal, but good pay no?

You thought about it for two minutes then finally gave your answer.

“When do I start?”

The man’s name is Radko. And right now you’re in his gym. It’s dark, stinky, and full of shirtless men training for their next match. You thought you felt out of place in school? Nope, this is 100x worse. And some of these guys are acting like they’ve never seen a woman before.

“Stop looking at me like that weirdo.” You think to yourself while walking past a guy on a bench who’s wiping the sweat off his chest. His hungry gaze on you sends shivers down your spine.

“Ignore their stares.” Radko puts a rough hand on your shoulder. “They’re not used to seeing pretty women.”

“Yeah I can see that.” You mutter.

You two stop in front of the door near the back of the gym. It says “Clinic” in front of the door. He opens the door and you’re greeted with a surprisingly clean office. Radko must have cleaned up a little when he knew you would be coming.

“This is where you’ll be. Some guys will walk in pretty roughed up. Just patch em up abd send them on their way. If any of em try anything with you, you tell me right away. Okay?”

Radko was like a Dad and you liked that about him. A pretty intimidating Dad who owns an illegal boxing ring but what does that matter. Doesn’t particularly make him a bad person.

“Okay. Thank you.” You say with a warm smile.

“Ah you’re so milyy (cute)! Please don’t quit within the first week, I don’t think my heart can handle it if you go.” Radko says and hugs you. You give the big man a pat on the back in return.

“I’ll leave you to it now. You’ll receive your pay bi-weekly. See you now.”

And with that you were left alone. You were left in a small private clinic you could call your own. Maybe this job wouldn’t be as bad as you thought? But all positive thoughts flew out the window when your first patient of the day walked in.

Tall, pale, short blonde hair, scarred torso, muscle on muscle, and piercing blue eyes. All features of someone whom you thought you would never see again. Who you never wanted to see again.

“Kroshechnyy?” (Tiny)

God that nick name. There was a time it would make you smile and laugh. But now it just pissed you off. He had the audacity to call you that as if you two were still buddy buddy? No, fuck that. Fuck him.

“It’s Y/n to you now. What do you want Viktor?”

The man’s face creased with pain. Not physical, no, something worse.

“What are you doing here? This place isn’t for you.” His voice was a deeper timbre from when you last spoke to him Sophomore year. He walks closer to you and you can smell his sweat from training but also… Jean Paul Gaultier? Why would you wear designer fragrance at a gym? Weirdo.

Little did you know when he saw you walk in the gym he immediately raced to the locker room to freshen up and see you.

“I’m a doctor. I got a side job from Radko.” You explain swiftly. “If you’re uninjured then please leave. Other patients may come in with actual reasons to see me.”

Rather than face to face you’re face to chest with him. How the hell did he get so tall? You crane your neck up to meet his eyes.

His expression stiffens. His usual cold demeanor returns.

“You shouldn’t be here. This place isn’t for you. It’s dangerous.”

You roll your eyes. “I think I can manage. Now please leave me alone. You’re the last person I ever want to see.”

Viktor ignores the comment and his gaze remains ice cold. You nearly shiver, did the room temperature drop?

“Stop acting childish. Tell Rad that you quit.”

“But I’m not quitting.”

He steps closer.

“I’ll make you.”

“And what are you gonna do?”

He bends down to your level and scoffs.

“I don’t need to lift a finger. You’ll get scared and run off with your tail between those little legs of yours. These men here will eat you alive.”

Did he not think you knew that before you signed up for all this? You were aware of what you walked into. Underground gym, surrounded by men, all physically fit to the max. They could rip you in half. But you needed this job. There wasn’t time to be afraid.

“Yeah yeah I know. I don’t need your lecture. Now get out before I tell Radko.”

Viktor leans closer. His nose mere centimeters from yours.

“Don’t come crying to me when you get hurt.”

“If I get hurt then I’ll just patch myself up. I didn’t go through 4 years of med school just to cry when I’m in pain.”

The tall Russian growls lowly to himself and leaves, not before slamming the door of course.

“Fuck…”

This new job of yours just got worse tenfold.

It’s been about two weeks since you started working here. And you’ve met all of Radko’s men. They weren’t as bad as you thought they would be. Yeah they would flirt with you but not in the gross way. They knew when to quit.

Well, all of them except for Vladimir. The same one who eyed you like a piece of meat the first day you came here. Everyday he would come to the clinic to shoot his shot. And everyday you turned him down.

“Little kotenok (kitten) is still feisty.” Vladimir clicks his tongue. He manspreads in the examination chair, flexing his ab muscles and turning his head to the side to show off his impressive jawline. But all it does is un-impress you.

“If you’re going to waste my time like this everyday then I’m going to tell Radko.” You firmly state and cross your arms.

Like a kicked puppy the boxer whines, “Nooooo. I’m sorry please don’t kick me out. This is the only room besides Coach’s that is air conditioned.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“Not my problem, do an ice bath or something.”

Vladimir chuckles and goes to say something else but stops himself when he sees and hears the door open. You also turn your attention to the door, wondering who it is and why they didn’t knock.

“Get out.” Viktor says. His voice like stone, as is his glare. His bloody swollen eye only ads to his intimidating aura.

Vladimir gets out of the chair and groans. “Way to be a cockblock Vicky.” He says mockingly.

You were about to shoot in and say how there was no way you would give him the light of day but Viktor had other plans. His fist makes contact with Vladimir’s abdomen with a mean punch. Making the other man wheeze and keel over in pain.

“Get the fuck out.” Viktor grabs him by the hair and kicks him out of the office. Literally. The door then slams shut, leaving you alone with your heated childhood friend.

“Thanks…” You mutter. Unable to look into his eyes, well… eye. The other is swollen shut.

He grunts and sits on the examination bed. Getting into doctor mode you walk over to Viktor and assess the damage. There’s a few bruises on his ribs but his eyes seem to be the worst. Delicately you touch part of the bruised eye and he inwardly flinches, making you draw your hand back in an instant.

“What happened?” You softly ask.

“Alexei sucker punched me. Dick.”

You stifle a laugh, making your patient deadpan. “Typical Alexi. I’ll tell him off the next time he comes in here complaining about his stomach aches.”

Viktor and you are silent when you rub ointment on his bruises. After the ointment is all done you hand him an icepack.

“Use this for the eye.”

He nods and thanks you with a silent nod. Then, he leaves just like that.

After that you would see more of Viktor and less Vladimir. To be honest you’ve been seeing less of everyone. Everyday Viktor came in with new reasons to come to you. Headaches, head trauma, bruises, scratches, and the worst was a dislocation.

“What is it this time?” You don’t even need to face the door to know who it is.

“He needs help!”

You whip around immediately, nearly spilling your coffee. You see Alexi and Cain at the door and draped over their shoulders is an unconscious Vladimir. You run over to them and tell them to lay Vladimir down on the bed gently while you assess his condition.

“What happened!?” You say worriedly. He was barely breathing. You begin doing chest compressions.

“We found him outside. Some of those bastards from west gym probably did this to him…” Cain says, his eyes are full of rage.

The compressions aren’t working. So instead you ready up the life support. He won’t last long with traumatic brain injuries like this.

“What’s gonna happen to him Doc?” Alexi sounds the most worried. He’s just a kid, only being 17.

“I’m putting him under life support.” And it was damn hard to do it on your own.

“Thank you.” Cain says. He puts a hand on the small of Alexi’s back. “Let’s leave her alone. She’s busy.”

The two men leave. Leaving you alone with Vladimir who has one foot in hell. No offense Vladimir, but no way you’re going to heaven. All day you stay by Vladimir’s side. Other men come in to check on him or get patch ups. And you go about your job, leaving the unconscious man to rest on the bed.

If I knew she would be stuck to his side like glue then I never would have beaten the fucker half to death. The plan was to kill him but the stubborn bastard just didn’t want to die. I watch Y/n from outside the clinic. The window’s blinds are open. She’s so close yet so far; always out of my reach. Part of it is my fault. I was the one who pushed her away after all.

But I had no choice. I didn’t want her involved with the people I was involved with in high school. I needed them in order to get some side jobs. Hell, a couple of them box for Radko too at this gym. I thought Y/n would be gone from my life for good, but I was wrong. I thought God was punishing me for the things I have done but it seems like he took pity on me just this once by bringing her back to me and letting me have a second chance.

But so far I’m making no progress. What even is love? I know I love her but I don’t know how. All I know is that I need to protect her from all the wolves here. I already staked my claim on her but one fucker didn’t want to listen. Vladimir, that egotistical thorn in my side. The next chance I get I'll kill him for good. It's not like this is my first time killing for her after all.

High school was when I first took someone's life. Some upperclassman bitch was harassing Y/n. I couldn't stand watching her suffer. And I couldn't comfort her like before when we were young; by this time I already cut off Y/n for good. But I knew there was something I could do. So I killed her. And I killed anyone who dared breathe Y/n's name wrong.

I'll do whatever I can to protect the love of my life. Slowly, little by little, I'll win her back. She'll be mine again and we'll be even closer than friends. But for now I'll do what I can to keep her safe from the sidelines. Even if it means she'll find out and hate me forever.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oc x reader #x reader #yandere oc #obsession #viktor markov #oc x reader #fem reader

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carlottawllms · 1 year ago

Text

Say Nothing Is Over

Mason Mount x Reader Angst / Fluff

There’s not much to say about this other than buckle up and trust the process. It’s worth it! 🤞🏼

Enjoy 🩷 As always, feedback is very much appreciated.

When Jaz and Sam had chosen you as Summer's godmother, no one had expected that there would come a time when you were no longer part of the family.

You’d been there for what felt like forever. First as Mason’s best friend and then later as his girlfriend. It had never been you or Mason, but you and Mason. Like two peas in a pod or attached at the hip, you’d always appeared as a pair.

In the beginning Mason had always had his arm around your shoulders and then later, once you’d eventually figured out you were actually in love with each other, he’d switched to holding your hand at all times.

It had been your perfect little world. The best person in the entire universe had been by your side, ready to fight anything and anyone just to make sure you were okay. Mason had been your everything, your greatest love and the one person you’d wanted to have in your life forever.

But then things had somehow gone downhill. Constant arguments about the stupidest things, nagging, stress and a lack of togetherness had been daily companions, causing both of your patience levels to constantly run at an all-time low.

You couldn’t even tell when it had started or why exactly, but at some point, you’d developed the feeling that Mason was no longer interested in you at all and that his thoughts were constantly set on football. But when you’d tried to tell him, he’d jumped straight into defence mode, claiming you weren’t supportive anymore and only cared about yourself.

Instead of talking to one another properly, the arguments had become louder, the words more hurtful by the day and at some point, you’d even been sleeping in separate rooms.

And that had been the point of no return for you. One morning, when you’d woken up in that bloody guest room again, you’d decided that things couldn’t go on like this. You’d reached a fork in the road: either break up or give it another chance and because neither of you had been ready to let the other go, you’d decided to take a break.

You’d moved out, so both of you would have some space and could think everything through, but the problem was that the break had been going on for almost six months now and while you had had reached out to him, Mason had simply ignored you.

It wasn’t exactly looking promising, but despite that, the thought of your relationship not being fixable had never crossed your mind.

At least not until today.

It was Summer’s birthday and although you and Mason were on weird terms right now, there was no way you’d disappoint your favourite mini human by missing her birthday.

“y/n, hi.” Jaz pulled you into a hug right after she’d opened the door. “Oh, it’s so lovely to see you. We’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. How is the tiny devil treating you?”

The first weeks after Mila was born had been difficult for the small family. She’d been a bit of a cry-baby, basically screaming through the night unless she was placed in the same bed as her parents and Jaz and Sam had had a difficult time juggling the needs of both of their girls.

“Way better, thank the heavens and the earth.”, Jaz laughed. “I think she’s finally accepted that she’s not in her mummy’s tummy anymore and has to face the real world now.”

“Yeah, yeah, the world is a scary place.”, you chuckled.

“C’mon in, the birthday girl is already impatiently waiting for her favourite auntie.”

Truth be told, you were a little nervous as you followed Jaz inside. Today would be the first time since taking a break that you’d see Mason. At least you expected him to make an appearance as so far, he’d never missed his god-daughter’s birthday, and whilst you’d spent the last days preparing yourself for every possible outcome of today, the thought of seeing him made you feel a little sick.

You didn’t know what to expect after he’d practically ghosted you and you were terrified, that he’d found closure and didn’t even think about your paused relationship anymore, whilst all you wanted was to talk to him and win him back. You couldn’t imagine a life without him, and you desperately hoped he felt the same.

The second you stepped foot into the hallway though, all your worries fell from the back of your mind as Summer already shot around the corner.

“Auntie y/n!”, she screeched, the wide smile on her face making the dimples in her cheeks pop. You knew you were biased, but in your opinion, Summer was the cutest little munchkin ever. “You made it!”

You didn’t hesitate to squad down to her height and when she eventually reached you on her small legs, she fell straight into your arms.

“Of course, I did, Sums.”, you hummed, hugging her close to your body. “Happy birthday, princess.” Pulling away slightly, you smooched both her cheeks before reaching behind to hand her the presents you’d got her.

The little girl jumped up and down excitedly at the sight of the small pile of wrapped things, eyes growing even bigger when she noticed the Peppa Pig wrapping paper.

“Thank you, auntie y/n.”

“Take them over to the others please, Summer. We’ll open them later.”

The small pout on her lips didn’t go unnoticed by you or her mother, but Jaz was strict when it came to certain structures and when she didn’t budge, Summer trotted into the living room and put your presents into the living room to the others she’d already received. Ready to be opened later.

Just like every other family, the Mount’s had their traditions and one of them was the way birthdays were celebrated: First was spending time with the guests, then came cutting the birthday cake and only after everyone had a slice of cake and was sat together, the birthday girl or boy got to unwrap the presents.

It had been Debbie’s and Tony’s way of teaching their kids to be grateful for the time they got to spend with their family and friends rather than focussing only on the presents and Jaz and Sam had been happy to take over that tradition.

“I’ll have to check in on Mila for a second. You’ll be fine?”

“Yeah, sure I’ll just see if I can find your mum.”, you smiled, a little unsure if you wanted to enter the scene all by yourself. What if he was the first you came face to face with? What if-

“He’s not here yet.”, Jaz said softly.

“Thank you.”, you breathed. “It’s silly, I know, it’s just…I haven’t seen him since erm…never mind. You go make sure Mila is alright and I’ll look for Debbie.”

Jaz looked like she was going to say something else, but eventually decided against it and nodded. “Talk to you in a bit.”

Now that the paralysing weight of facing Mason straight away was taken off your shoulders, you quickly made your way inside, greeting Summer’s old and young party guests until you found Debbie in the kitchen.

“Even at your granddaughter's birthday party, you can't help it, can you?”, you laughed as you caught her slicing some apples on the counter.

“You know me too well, don’t you?” Debbie was quick in pulling you in for a hug before settling her hands on your shoulders, holding you an armlength away. The bright smile on her face told you all about how happy she was to have you here and you hoped that your expression mirrored hers. “It’s so good to have you here, y/n. How have you been?”

“Good. I’ve been good.”, you nodded, hoping you’d been somewhat convincing, but when she raised her eyebrows at you, and you noticed the attempt had failed, you sighed. “I’ve been better, to be honest, but I’ll be fine. You know what they say, bad weeds grow tall.”

“Oh, y/n.”, she smiled sympathetically. “We don’t understand what’s going on either. Jaz tried to talk to him, and I think Lewis gave him a bit of a talking to and we thought it had worked, but then from one day to the next, he’d shut down completely.”

You knew they all only meant well, but Mason was still their son and brother, and it didn't feel right for them to take sides with you like that.

“I appreciate it a lot, but please don’t get too involved, Debs. This is between me and Mason and no matter what happens, I’ll be alright. Okay?”

“Of course, it’s just…if you need to talk, we’re here for you.” Debbie pulled you in for another hug and when you felt her kissing the top of your head and your eyes welled up, you had to bite the insides of your cheeks to keep it together.

A little while later, you and Debbie joined Tony outside. He was busy preparing the barbecue for later, but when he noticed you by his wife’s side, he quickly let go of the tool and pulled you in for a hug.

“Long time no see.”, he smiled, patting you on the shoulder. “You’re alright?”

The three of you had a little chat, simply catching up with each other and you were grateful that neither of them mentioned your unclear relationship status again. In fact, Tony’s easy-going nature and his jokes had made you forget about your worries altogether and you almost felt as if you could actually enjoy the party, but then Jaz hurried into the garden.

There was this apologetic look in her eyes when they met yours, leaving you a little confused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…I just…it’s…y/n, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry.”

You were about to ask what had happened, but before you could, Mason walked through the door. With his hand clasped around someone else’s.

Your heart dropped to your stomach at the sight of him with another woman; a sick feeling taking over almost immediately and the longer you looked at them, the more you felt like you were about to throw up any second now.

She was beautiful. Tall and leggy, with shiny hair and a pretty smile and she was dressed as if she came straight out of Vogue magazine. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was everything you weren’t.

The burning feeling in your chest increased the longer you stood there, paralysed and rooted to the spot and as much as you hated yourself for it, you could already feel the tears burning behind your eyes, scarily close to spilling over.

You hadn’t known you were actually over.

“Mase erm…that’s a surprise.”, Debbie said and even in your state you could tell that she was trying her best to be nice about it, but the disappointment in her youngest son was more than obvious. “We didn’t know you’d bring someone.”

“Yeah, well, it was a spontaneous decision.”, Mason explained flatly, his gaze just about skimming yours as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “This is Maya.”

Someone wrapped their arm around your shoulder, and you suspected it was Tony, but you couldn’t muster up the strength to look at him as all sounds around you blurred into a dull hum, whilst your own heartbeat was threatening to burst your eardrums.

“Sorry, I erm…can’t…I have to…I can’t do this.”

Regardless of what it looked like, you pulled away from Tony's grip and hurried towards the patio door. The tears you’d managed to hold back when he’d arrived were streaming down your cheeks now and you angrily wiped them away as you passed Mason and his model.

You felt humiliated and betrayed. For months, you’d hoped that he missed you too and that you could somehow make things work again, but very obviously you’d been fooling yourself.

Once in the safety of Jaz's guest room, you were finally able to let go of everything. The second you curled up in bed, the sobs you had been able to hold back downstairs started to wreck your body. With your hands flat over your mouth, you tried to make as little sounds as possible, but the thought of Mason being downstairs with her made it difficult to keep it together.

It hurt. It hurt so much you didn’t think anything before had ever been this painful. It was a slap across the face, and you weren’t sure you could ever recover from that.

The image of his hand around hers was burned into your brain and you didn't think you could ever forget it.

Him holding your hand had been one of your favourite things in your relationship. The way yours was so much smaller and entirely engulfed by his had always given you a feeling of safety and because Mason had known that there had barely been a situation in which he hadn’t reached for your hand to hold it.

You missed it. You missed him. And you weren’t sure how to survive now that it was obviously over.

The moment you left, it became dead quiet in the garden. Everyone seemed to try and get their head around what had just happened. Jaz had to pull herself together not to smack her little brother, Lewis tried his best not to explode in front of everyone and Debbie and Tony simply looked at each other, flabbergasted and unable to say something.

You were a like a family member to the Mounts; a little sister to Lewis and Jaz, so it didn’t come as a surprise that they were just as protective of you as they were of their biological siblings.

"Wow, fucking fantastic, Mason," Jaz hissed. "I'll go check on her."

Mason's gaze switched back and forth between his parents and his brother as he wondered what had just happened. He felt like he was in some sort of film and people had forgotten to hand him the script, so no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make sense of the situation.

“You and me, kitchen. Now.”, Lewis growled as he grabbed Mason’s arm and pulled him inside rather harshly. The latter stumbled a little, having trouble keeping up with Lewis, but it wasn’t long until the two of them reached the kitchen and the door fell closed behind them with a rather loud bang.

“What’s going on?” With his innocent question Mason unintentionally made his brother even more furious and he only realised it when Lewis’ hard eyes met his own.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh?”, he asked. “What made you think that showing up with some woman is a good idea when you knew exactly that y/n would be here? Is there even anything going on in that brain of yours?”

“Why would I not bring someone? You’re making it sound as if I’ve murdered someone or something.”

“Did you hit your head or something?” Lewis shoved his little brother against the counter, trying to knock some sense into him. He’d never thought Mason, the one who talked the world of you, would be capable of doing this, of hurting you like this.

“I don’t get why this is such a big deal now, Lew. It’s not like she-“

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Mason? You've seen how y/n is doing and you're here now acting like this isn't a problem. Apart from the fact that your goddaughter's birthday is anything but the right time to introduce your latest addition to us, don't you think you should at least have had the decency to speak to y/n and be honest with her?”

The more Lewis spoke, the angrier Mason became. Yeah maybe it hadn’t been the most thought-through decision and it certainly hadn’t been tactful either, but after what he’d been told two weeks ago, he’d been petty enough to go through with it all.

“Being honest with her? Look, I know you all love her and consider her family, but that doesn’t mean that she can’t do wrong, you know?”, Mason hissed.

“This is not about her, Mason. This is about the fact that that you brought a woman before ending things with her. I don’t know what happened between you two because she didn’t want to go behind your back and you refused to talk to us, but you were on a break, Mason, a fucking break.”

Lewis ran his hand through his hair in desperation as he didn’t recognise his own brother anymore. “This is not who you are. What’s going on, Mase?”

“I just think it’s unfair that what she did is okay, but I am portrayed as the worst person in the world because I bring Maya.”

Mason watched how Lewis’ furious expression changed into a confused frown. “What she did? Mason what the hell happened? A few days ago she told me that she hopes you’ll figure it out together and-“

“Oh, she did, yeah? Then why would she go on a date with someone, huh?” Mason hated how only the thought of it made his tummy churn uncomfortably. “Two weeks ago, Woody saw her in one of those fancy restaurants in Manchester. Black dress, hair put up nicely in a bun and opposite of her a man. Dark blonde hair and apparently looking like he came straight out of GQ or something.”

“And you really think she’d do that when you’re not officially over?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think, Lew. Woody saw her. It’s facts.”

“No, it’s not Mason.”, Lewis exclaimed, baffled that his brother thought you could do something like that after all these years he’d spent with you. “She’s upstairs crying her little heart out because you brought someone else? Why the fuck would she do that if she didn’t care about you anymore? If she didn’t love you anymore?”

“Then why would she-“

“The guy she went out with? It was James, for God’s sake.”, he interrupted Mason. “You remember? The guy who requested an interview with you not too long ago? The guy who wants to write about ‘Together for short lives’? He was only in Manchester for the day and because I was with you, shooting that Nike campaign, I asked y/n to go and coordinate everything with him. She knows the business and only wants the best for you, so obviously she went. That’s all. It wasn’t a date or whatever Woody told you. It was a business meeting.”

Mason could literally feel his heart dropping into his stomach. A business dinner? For him? He felt cold all over, his heart thundering in his chest and he had to grab the edge of the kitchen counter to keep himself from falling over.

What had he done?

“Fuck.”, he whispered as an ice-cold shiver rolled down his spine. “I didn’t know, I…Lew I…fuck.”

Desperately, he ran his hands through his hair and over his face. He felt sick, really really sick, and as he looked into his brother's disappointed face, Mason eventually truly realised what had happened. What he’d done.

He’d broken your heart. In the most cruel way anyone ever could.

“I need to talk to her. I-“

“That won’t happen now.” Lewis was quick in reaching out and holding his little brother back from exiting the kitchen. “You need to talk to her, yes, but not today. The damage is done and trust me, she’s too hurt right now to have this conversation.”

You had no idea how much time had passed, but it felt like an eternity when you eventually came back into the living room. Summer’s family was talking and having fun like before and it gave you hope that no one had noticed the little slip up.

After Jaz had held you and calmed you down as best as she could, you felt a little better now. Obviously, you were still incredibly hurt and despite Jaz’ attempts to reassure you that everything would be okay, you were unsure if it would ever be okay again.

Until today, the hope that you and Mason would get out of this whole and back together had been there and kept you going, but now that bubble had been popped and you felt devastated.

You let your eyes wander around the room for a moment, your heart beating fast in fear of seeing her again – you didn’t even remember her name – but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Neither was Mason though and it made you wonder if they’d left, but before you could decide whether or not to be happy about it, he emerged with Lewis from the kitchen.

He looked rattled, maybe even devastated and you couldn’t help but wonder what they’d spoken about.

You were a little rooted to the spot ever since he’d reappeared, unsure of where to go and suddenly his eyes were on yours. Those eyes you’d fallen in love with all those years ago; that usually held so much warmth and comfort, but right now all they did was making your heart sink, so you dropped your gaze to the floor.

“Oh y/n.”, Debbie sighed as she pulled you into her side. “She left. She realised quite quickly that she had done some damage and after Tony and I spoke to her, she left. If you’d rather go back to the hotel though, it’s fine. I’ll explain to Summer that you weren’t feeling well and had to leave. She’ll understand.”

“That’s sweet, thank you, Debs.”, you smiled sincerely, leaning your head against her shoulder. “And it really hurt me, but it's Summer's birthday and I didn't come here from Manchester to hole up in a hotel because of hurt feelings. The little munchkin deserves a great birthday, and I won’t ruin that for her.”

The rest of the day then passed without further incident. Mason didn't try to talk to you, but every now and then you could feel his eyes on you, and it made you wonder what he thought.

Was he sorry? Or did he care so little about you that he didn’t mind his own actions at all? Was he just annoyed that his new girlfriend had left?

Somehow you managed to pull yourself together for the rest of the day. You weren't really having fun anymore, for Summer you were more than willing to force a smile on your face though.

But once you were in the safety of your hotel room a couple of hours later, the brave face you’d put on crumbled. It was as if the moment you were all on your own, everything hit you with full force and caused the waterworks to start straight away.

Sobs wrecked your already worn-out body and whilst you tried to at least remove your make-up and change into more comfortable clothes, it wasn’t long until you collapsed onto the bed as your legs gave way.

Everything hurt. Your head, your tummy, but mostly your heart.

Mason had been your everything. He still was and knowing that you weren’t the same to him broke your heart in the worst way possible. He’d stabbed you and twisted the knife, making sure the pain would stay for a very long time.

You loved him like you’d never loved anyone before and although you were still young and had a long life ahead of you, you knew you’d never love anyone as much as him. He’d been your forever, the one and only you wanted to spend your whole life with.

He was the love of your life. And now he was gone, and you had no idea how to keep going.

Those last month’s you’d survived on the hope that he missed you too and would come back to make up and get back together. It had kept you from losing it, but now that you’d lost even that tiny straw of hope, you had no idea of what to hold onto.

Having lost all sense of time, you had no idea for how long you’d been lying in bed, crying your silly little heart out, but at some point there were no tears to cry left and that’s when it got worse. It left you lying in bed, staring at the wall wondering if you’d ever feel okay again.

Throughout your whole life Mason had been by your side so facing being without him made you feel sick to the stomach. He’d been your rock, a shoulder to cry on, the person who’d made you laugh when you felt like crying. He’d been your number one supporter in everything and you had no idea how to tackle life without his protective arm around your shoulders.

Your phone had buzzed what felt like 100 times already and you’d ignored it just as often, but the dull noise it made on the small wooden table was starting to drive you mad, so you somehow heaved yourself off the bed and picked it up from the table.

The bright display was blinding, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut in discomfort. 87 unanswered calls. All from Mason. Just like the dozens of messages in your notifications. As a new call came through, you were quick in switching the phone off, thinking peace and quiet would finally settle over the small room, but as you made your way back to the bed, a knock on the door had your heart stopping in your chest.

You wanted nothing more than to ignore it as you were in no state to answer the door to anyone, but whoever it was, was persistent and you began to think it had to be something important. Maybe a staff member?

When you opened the door though, there was no staff member. Just the last person on earth you wanted to see right now.

“y/n, I-“

“No.”, you breathed, tears already brimming in your eyes again at the sight of him and you shut the door. Luckily you’d been quick enough and Mason hadn’t had the chance to put his foot in between to keep it open, but much to your dismay, it didn’t stop him from knocking again.

“y/n, please let me in. I need to talk to you, it’s…it wasn’t what it looked like. I…I’m sorry, y/n. I know it’s not enough, but I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have…it was just…y/n, please baby. Let me in and explain, I just…Lewis talked to me and told me what really happened and…I’m an idiot, okay? I-“

You were met with his big brown eyes when you opened the door again. A surprised look on his face as he hadn’t expected you to give in that quickly, but before he could start talking again, you shook your head.

“You’re disturbing the other guests, Mason.” It physically hurt to call him that instead of one of the pet names you had for him and you could see the same thing in his eyes. “Please leave.”

You tried to close the door again, but this time Mason was prepared and stopped it from falling shut.

“No, please wait. Can’t we just talk? Please?”

“I don’t want to.”, you shook your head, eyes welling up again at the thought of the situation he wanted to explain. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Then let me do the talking. Please, y/n.”, Mason begged. It hurt him to see you like this, especially as he’d caused it. Your beautiful eyes were filled with unshed tears, red-rimmed and so incredibly sad, it made him feel sick to the stomach. “Please, let me in. Please y/n.”

For a while you simply looked at him. He was begging you to let him in and explain and whilst you really didn’t want to, his pleading expression was slowly breaking your walls down. Maybe his explanation would help you to find closure?

Eventually you turned around, leaving him standing there, but as you didn’t close the door on him again, Mason carefully slipped into the room.

An oppressive silence filled the room as you sat down on the edge of the bed, hands in your lap and fiddling with your fingers. He wanted to come in and talk, not you…But Mason simply stood there, awkwardly running his hand over his face as he tried to get the words to come out.

Your heart was beating out of your chest. You had no idea what to expect and you were still unsure if you even wanted him to explain why he’d not ended things with you before bringing someone else into the picture, but your heart hurt so much and it wasn’t long before it all broke out.

“I’ve waited for you, Mason.”, you whispered. “I thought you’d come back and choose me, but very obviously I was wrong.”

Mason’s heart broke at the way you sounded so hurt. Your words cut right through him and while he’d already known that he’d royally fucked up, it was only now that he realised the implications of the whole situation.

He’d made it look as if he’d chosen someone else over you and the fact that the two of you hadn’t been officially over, made it all even worse. He could only imagine how much it must’ve hurt to see him with Maya and he hated how much pain he’d caused you.

“I am so sorry y/n. I know it looks like the exact opposite right now, but I’ve not chosen her over you.”

You laughed hollowly. “Yeah sure, that’s why you brought her to Summer’s birthday, right? You held her fucking hand, Mason. You brought her as your plus-one to your niece’s birthday. If that’s not choosing her over me, then I don’t know what is.”

Mason sighed quietly. His heart was thundering in his chest as the thought of having caused too much damage to fix it crossed his mind.

“Two weeks ago, you went to dinner with James.”, he began quietly, thinking it was best to explain everything in order. “I know now that it was a business dinner because of that interview he wants to do with me. Lew told me this afternoon. Thing is, Woody saw you and called me that evening. He asked me if we’d actually broken up because he knew I’d wanted to talk to you and get you back for the longest time and when I said no, he told me that you’d been out for dinner with a guy, dressed up and all happy.”

Mason ran his hand over his face. He knew what it looked like and he hated himself for jumping to conclusions so quickly instead of reaching out and talking to you.

“I know what this sounds like and I really am sorry for not talking to you first.”, he mumbled. “Those last four months have been incredibly difficult for me. At United nothing is going my way and I know I’m a mentally strong person, but lately everything became a little too much. The pressure, the hate, the loneliness…everything really. I missed you so much and was close to messaging you a couple of times, but because of how down I was, I convinced myself that you were better off without me and when Woody told me that night, it hurt so much. I felt betrayed and I know I should’ve called, but I was blinded by the pain and my overall shit situation and…I am so sorry, y/n. I don’t mean this as an excuse, I know there is none, but I feel like it explains how everything just unfolded.”

You didn’t know when you’d started crying during his monologue and you only realised as the tears dropped into your hands. Despite everything that had gone wrong and how much he’d hurt you today, you still cared a lot for him and hearing that he’d been sad and lonely and in such a dark hole for months hurt you even more.

Mason fell to his knees right in front of you as he noticed your tears and the small sobs shaking your body. His own eyes were filled to the brim and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold the tears at bay, but he didn’t care.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. You have to believe me. I wish I could undo it. Everything those last months. I wanted to fight for you, I really did, y/n and I’m such an idiot for not doing the right thing.”

A little hesitant, he placed his hands on your thighs and when you didn’t push him away, he gently pried your hands away from your face. His heart squeezed in his chest as you immediately held onto his fingers tightly.

“I haven’t chosen her over you. I understand it looked like it, but I haven’t. I only brou-“

“Who is she to you?”

“She’s a good friend of Luke’s wife. I met her when I went to see Luke and we just got along well, that’s all. “, Mason explained quietly. His thumbs slowly caressing the soft skin of your fingers. “She’s not even someone I’d call a friend. It sounds shit, I know, but I brought her today because I knew it would hurt you as much as you going out with that guy hurt me. It was petty and childish and stupid, but I wanted to get back at you for that. She didn’t even know about you and when you’d gone upstairs, she talked to mum and apologised, saying she didn’t mean to cause any of that and then she left.”

You became silent for an agonisingly long while, simply staring at your joined hands and Mason was dying to say more, but he knew better. It had been a lot, not just right now or even today, but all of those last months ever since your break.

He’d made it look as if he didn’t care anymore, he’d even brought someone new out of sheer pettiness and as difficult as it was, he had to give you the time to process it.

“Did you sleep with her?”, you eventually asked hesitantly, unsure if you wanted to know the answer as anything but a no would probably pull the rug out from under your feet, but then again not knowing it felt even worse.

“No.”, Mason answered quickly. “No, I didn’t. I promise you, y/n, I didn’t kiss her or sleep with her or anything like that. We spoke a couple of times, but nothing more. I could never do that to you, y/n.”

His hands squeezed yours in an attempt to reassure you that little bit more and then you finally raised your head a little and locked your teary eyes on his.

“So she doesn’t mean-“

“She doesn’t mean anything to me.”, Mason interrupted you straight away; already knowing where you were heading with your question. “I promise you, y/n, she doesn’t mean anything to me. I never had any intention of taking her acquaintance on another level and I’m truly sorry I made it look like that.”

You were still incredibly hurt and had no idea where you stood with him, but after everything you’d said, your heart felt a little lighter. You’d spent enough time with him to know that he meant what he’d just said and it didn’t make it any better, but you got where he was coming from.

“I erm…my head’s spinning a little. I have to lay down.”, you mumbled. All the crying you’d done had caused a headache to form a while ago and Mason laying it all out for you wasn’t helping the pain at all.

“Of course, yes.” He was quick in pulling his hands from yours and moving away from you, giving you the space you needed, but as he watched you getting into bed, he wondered what that meant for him.

Did you want him to leave? Or just take a seat and keep talking?

“Can you…I don’t know lay down too or something? It feels weird having you stand there like that.” The fear of rejection was eating you alive, so you kept your gaze firmly on the wall opposite of you, thinking that not looking at him would keep down the disappointment of him saying no.

“Oh.”, he breathed surprised. “I erm…yes, sure, I’ll just uhm take the other side.”

Mason quickly got rid of his jumper before lifting the sheets and shuffling into a comfortable position. You had your back to him and he’d left a deliberate space between you two, but you could still feel the warmth radiating off of him.

“I felt like shit.”, you suddenly admitted, catching Mason by surprise. “When you came into the garden with her…I don’t think I’ve ever felt that shit before. The way you had your hand wrapped around hers…I just…all I could think of was that it should…should be me.”

“I am so sorry.”, Mason choked, unable to hold back his own overwhelming emotions any longer and before he knew it, he’d wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you into him. Your back flush against his front. “I am so sorry, y/n. I never meant for this to happen…I’m so sorry for how I treated before the break and for everything that happened afterwards. I should’ve called and messaged; I should’ve tried everything to get you back. I’m sorry I’ve been such an idiot, y/n. There’s nothing I can say that could make up for all the shit and pain I’ve caused, but I am so sorry, y/n.”

You could feel his heart thundering where his chest was pressed up against your back, but yours wasn’t doing any better. It was threatening to burst your ribcage from how fast it was beating and your mind was going crazy as well. Hundreds of thoughts were rushing through your head, trying to make sense of the whole situation and to find a solution for this mess.

You had no idea where to go from here. Mason had hurt you so much and you felt like you’d gone through hell and back, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt to be back in his arms. It felt like home; like the safest place on earth.

Hesitantly, you reached for one of his hands, laced your fingers with his and pulled your joined hands up to your chest.

“Do you think you can forgive me at some point?”

His voice was quiet and a little shaky and you didn’t miss the way he hid away in your neck slightly, probably just as afraid as you were, but this wasn’t a conversation you could have whilst hiding from each other, so you slowly turned around until you were facing him.

Softly, you wiped your thumb over his wet cheek as you smiled sympathetically at the sight of him. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him this dejected before. His big brown eyes bore into yours with a sad expression, the bridge of his nose was flushed and his freckled cheeks all blotchy.

“We’ve both made mistakes that led to the break. I wasn’t just you.”, you said quietly as you grabbed his hand and pushed your fingers between his. “What happened today hurt me a lot and I can’t say it’s okay because you apologised, because it’s not, but with some time to heal I think I can forgive you at some point.”

Mason nodded slowly, understanding where you were coming from and that you needed some time to process it all, but it also made him feel as if there was still hope left for the two of you. That he’d not fucked it up beyond repair.

He squeezed your hand and smiled at you softly.

“That’s okay. You can take all the time you need and…it would be difficult, but if you realise that you can't forgive me, then I’d understand. There is no excuse for what I did and I know that I hurt you and there might not be an us again and-“

“Do you still love me?”, you interrupted his rant softly with your gaze firmly set on his.

“Yes.”, he answered straight away. “The answer will always be yes because there’s no doubt that you’re my person. I will always love you, no matter what.”

“Mase.”, you sniffled as your emotions were getting the best of you again after his words. For months you’d been wondering if he still loved you. You’d tortured yourself with this question day after day, week after week and month after month and when you’d seen him today with her you’d been convinced you finally had your answer…

And you'd never been happier about being wrong than today. The relief rushing through you caused the tears to spill from your eyes again, but this time they were happy tears and Mason was quick in brushing them away with his thumbs.

“I mean it, y/n. You’re the only person I want, and I really hope that even after all this shit, you still want me too. I know it will take some time but-“

“I love you, too, Mason. So, so much, you have no idea.”

And maybe it was too soon, and you should’ve given yourself time to process everything properly and make a rational decision afterwards, but in that moment, you were just so relieved to have your Mason back, that you closed the gap between you two and kissed him.

And for the first time in six months, you felt complete again.

—————

I genuinely hope you enjoyed reading this. You would make my day if you left a little feedback so I can see what you liked and what I can improve on 🩷

#mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount x reader #mason mount fanfic #football imagine #manchester united #football fanfic #manchester united imagine #mason mount angst #mason mount fluff #angst #fluff #fanfiction

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bitchlessdino · 2 years ago

Text

Do it already (m)

Pairing: best friend's brother!Chan x afab!reader

Genre: smut, slice of life

Word count: 6.5k

tags: actor!chan, childhood friends!chan, possessive!chan, yearning!reader, plot rich, reader with tits, reader masturbation, kitchen counter sex, reference to drugs, oral (giving and receiving), mouth fucking, choking, spanking, pussy slapping, degradation (slut, whore), praise kink, unprotected sex. tender love and care

Summary: You and the Lee siblings were like three peas in a pod. That didn't last long when Chan went for his dream and left you and sister to yourselves. That was no problem since she was the best friend you could ever have. Now he's back, hot, fit, oozing sex appeal and you're wondering what it'll take for him to rail you like a train on tracks.

author note: this banner took 3 minutes to make. It's take a lot shorter if i didn't have so many spelling errors. point is this banner is the coolest bc i found a template already premade. it's been a while since i wrote a lengthy chan thing that wasn't just smut so, here you go. enjoy! and thank you to everyone that voted on the poll to make this happen. also, every thought the reader had been once my own, I overindulged once again

tag list: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @honglynights @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han

You remember Chan eating dirt at the ripe age of 5. You were the cause of it. You thought it was funny to make a dirt and worms pie with real dirt and worms. You were right. He’s hated you since.

His sister, Chanmi, agreed with you. She thought you were really funny. Chan eventually got over the dirt pie, and found it incomplete without your presence. You became best friends after that and basically followed them everywhere. You always wanted siblings and since mom couldn’t afford to push out anymore, you settled on being fake siblings with the Lees.

Then Chan decided to pursue his dreams when he was 14. That was okay. You had more in common with Chanmi, anyway. His disappearance made you and Chanmi closer. She relied on you and you doted on her. It was a mutual symbiotic relationship. You couldn’t see a life without each other.

You ended up in the same college as well, living across the hall from each other in the same dormitory. Now you really couldn’t see a life without her.

When it was time to graduate, you really worried you’d drift apart by now. When she reassured you wouldn’t, you trusted her word, as she trusted yours when you made that same commitment. It was time to commemorate it, so in came your joint graduation party. Your families and mutual friends had joined together and celebrated the end of an era. You would now go off into a world that you feared more than it would fear you. But you had Chanmi. You couldn’t imagine a better person to do it with.

Chan had hardly crossed your mind in all these years until the very moment he walked through your front door. You could hardly recognize him in the Armani blazer and dress shoes, but it was him. He had the same sharp yet attentive brown eyes since he was a teenager. He was simply all grown up now, as have you. Chan had come to visit a few times in the time he’s been gone but you only ever saw him a brief passing, caught up in your own life.

Once our eyes have landed on him, it’s as if time has stopped. The acting school must’ve done this because his image seemed to be crafted in utter perfection. He was slightly taller than you remember, chiseled than you remember, and the least of all, more handsome than you remembered. You emphasize that you never saw Lee Chan attractive, not once, but here you were, devouring every detail of him.

He saunters over with flowers in his arms–noticeably two bouquets, one full of daisies and another with sunflowers–and stands before you and your best friend with a smile on his face. He congratulates Chanmi, handing her the bouquet of sunflowers and a hug, and within earshot saying how he knew she could do it.

Then came you. The expression on his face is something you’ve never seen him make. It bordered the line of surprised, startled, perhaps aroused, and you don’t know what to make of it. You clenched your legs anxiously before you pushed yourself up from your seat, seeing how much taller he really gotten since. It was funny since you had gotten used to being the taller one in your youth but it seems some of that has changed, along with everything about him.

“Congratulations, Y/n.” He hands you your daisies, unable to tear his gaze from you, fingers brushing against yours as he places them in your hands and electricity flows through you both.

“No hug,” you ask, trying it. His grin gets wider, arms now coming around you, and you feel his larger than life biceps close in a tight embrace. The scent that entered your personal circle now engulfed your senses, blackberries and cream. He smelled sweet, comforting, and if you help it, down right edible.

You sigh, hugging closer, closing your eyes to fully appreciate his warmth and he spoke to a lethally soft tenor, “You’re looking good, Dirt cake. Welcome to adulthood.”

He felt strong and safe, yet left you breathless when he smoothed his hand over your back. You wonder how there can be so much tension in a seemingly platonic gesture. He makes you feel like the only other person to exist, but it ends when he pulls away, and his ghost lingers over your form.

The attention is all on him when his parents see Chan arrive, proud to have gotten the family back together again. Your parents greet him the same, having once known him to be a placeholder of a son they would’ve loved to have. Everyone is joyous.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him, the rest of the party or the rest of the night that matter, thinking only what he’d like underneath those clothes. As children, you’ve had your fair share of beach days, pool parties, joint family vacations to rented lake houses, but that was a time when Lee Chan wouldn’t even be considered in your dating pool. You were both children, almost like family at some point, and thinking of him in any manner besides that was icky. So, so icky.

But you’d be lying if you didn’t watch him tear off that blazer and put it away in a closet. His muscles ripple through his expensive dress shirt, sleeves pulled up to cut off at the elbows, revealing blue veins so thick and pulsing you imagine how they’d feel against your tongue at the sight of them. You lie in bed at the thought of them, overwhelmed at the pool it causes between your legs and goes to reclaim your arousal. Your digits languidly follow the trail of their escape and bite on your other pillow to muffle your ache.

Your head throws back into the duvet as you plunge two eager digits in your sopping core. The perfect arch you make goes unnoticed in your lonesome. You pleasure yourself in solitude, when in your mind one other person takes your fingers’ place.

“Cum all over me, sweet angel. I can feel you close.”

He had never uttered those words in his life, at least not you, but can hear them almost as clear as day.

Your hips slew in a circular type motion. Your moans get more curt as you bite hard into the cotton felt. Legs tense up, lifting off the bed, and hushed whimpers are all you communicate as you’re overcome with your release, taking the time for your legs to settle down. Your pulse would take a longer time to process your journey. Chan was still on your mind after all. Along with all the guilt built up from the considered betrayal you’ve made to his sister, your best friend, you were wondering if you could ever face her, or Chan, again.

“Oh my god, when was the last time we were out together like this?”

Chanmi’s enthusiasm combated your desire to hide away forever from guilt. You pick apart your burger, making sure there were no pickles as you’ve requested, and humming content as your message was received. “3-4 years. If you include that lunch, Chan took off in 10 minutes.”

The culprit chuckled, depositing a fry in his mouth. “I'm in high demand. You should be proud to be sitting so close to me.”

Chanmi snickers, shoving a nugget in his face, “Here, shove this in your pie hole.”

He happily accepts the excuse to shut up and enjoys it like it’s the most delicious thing on earth. “Yummy.”

You all laugh at his lighthearted nature and talk as if no time has passed. It’s familiar, warm, but jarring, because seeing you all united together proved that time came with age, and apparently for Chan, a new appreciation for a fully equipped gym.

He’s the same personality-wise, but you can’t help but focus on the physical. Looking at him while talking felt like he had been body swapped with some foreign adonis. You don’t forget the more stylish hair cut he sports, tapering slightly short at his sides and longer up top. He was becoming everything he meant to be.

“How’s shooting,” you curiously ask, “I’m sure it’s really exciting to be working on a bigger project like this.”

Chan took off the middle of your childhood to enroll in a boarding performing arts school. He wanted to pursue acting professionally one day, and he believed the networking and immersion of the curriculum would allow him to hone that skill. He made a pretty penny doing TV commercials in his attendance there, but his senior year he finally got cast in a small film. His mini break.

He played a minor role but got all the perks of a lead, besides the fame. He pushed himself hard to get recognized in his field of work. Corpses on criminal mind-esque shows, taking on five-minute extra characters, becoming a regular on a cable show with a beloved modest fandom, and finally now he’s done it. He was going to be a lead on an online streaming series that would be broadcasted internationally. Although, he hadn’t gotten the male love interest he strived for. He had claimed the role of the second love interest instead, and everyone always loved the second lead more than the first, he rationalized.

“It’s so exciting. Everyone is so talented and cool. I almost can't believe it.” He expresses with an excited glint in his eyes.

“It’s a big deal,” You cover his hand with yours, squeezing it affectionately. “You deserved this.”

You exchange proud smiles at each other. You wish you could feel the warmth from his lips as he lets out a quiet “thank you” as he places his over hand on top of yours. This feels too tender to be real, and you wonder how you could ever have noticed those creased smile eyes in the past.

The moment is interrupted when a text tone goes off and Chanmi claims it. “Oh, gotta go. I have a date.”

Chan rolled his eyes as his giddy sister hops out of her chair, releasing himself from your hands, and they suddenly drop cold. “Can't believe you planned a date in one of the few days I’m in town.”

Chanmi lands a quick peck on your cheeks and sticks her tongue at brother in defiance, scurrying away in a quick farewell and she’s gone behind those double doors of the restaurant. This leaves you three: you, Chan, and the impending arousal that slicks your walls for being alone with him any longer than a second.

“It’s crazy isn’t it,” Chan breaks your silence, “you guys graduating, me being in a lead. It’s so wild how far we’ve come.”

You nod, “It really is. Everything’s different now.”

“Well, besides school, what else has happened? Now’s the time to catch up.”

You hummed, “where do I start?”

Let’s see where you could start.

The moment you walk right through that front door, I cannot stop thinking about your hands on my body how you would press me up against a wall and fuck me senseless, stupid, or just straight up use me until I can’t even remember my own name. It’s been only a few days since I last saw you, but every day since then I thought about you. I touch myself to the thought you. I wondered how you would say my name. I wonder if you would say my name at all. I even wondered what you would want me to call you, if that was even necessary. For you, I would lay my body with only the purpose of fulfilling every one of your desires. I’d have myself milk you until the end of our days.

You kept that to yourself. You were ashamed those words even ran through your mind in the brief moment it did, and you held your breath. “Well, since college is over, I can focus on the internship I got into. It’s a lot less intense than I’m expecting, just waiting for that adrenaline to pick up when it does.”

“You’re so grown up. I can believe I missed that.” There’s so much tenderness and fondness in his eyes.

I could say the exact same about you.

“So, Chanmi’s dating. You seeing anyone lately?”

If I was, they’d be gone the second I saw you.

“No, not really,” you respond, averting your gaze to your drink, “college guys kind of suck if I’m being honest.”

Humor is evident as Chan stifles a laugh, wiping away the reminder of his sandwich away from his face. “That I’ve heard of. Good. You deserve more than a guy just trying to get his dick wet.”

You halt, pleasure churning in your stomach at his vulgar language, hunching over the diner table in anguish. The pool of arousal spreads further. “That’s one way to put it. And you? Anyone caught your eye?”

Please say no. For the love of god and Buddha, say no.

“No luck on my end, either.”

Fuck yes.

“Oh, well, that sucks.”

“I have had a lot of work on my hands, so I don’t really fall into the practice of dating. I guess I’m just taking things as they come”

You nod, completely aligned with him. You didn’t see the point in dating apps if its purpose was only to put you out there in the world. You did plenty of that on your own.

“And sex?” What are you doing?

He snorts, his pearly whites on display. “What about sex?”

Stop before you’re in too deep. “Are you having any?” For Christ's sake.

He bites his lip, amused, taking the last sip from his sprite before setting it aside. “At the moment, no. Why? Are you offering?”

YES.

“No,” you scratch your head, blinking in feign innocence, “just gathering intel to sell to paparazzi before you become a superstar and leave us.”

He crumbles up a napkin, a scrunched up smile on his face, before launching it at you, “You jerk. And no, I’m not fucking anyone.”

God, the way he cusses feels like drugs in my veins.

“Are you asking because you are,” he asks, “are you having sex with someone?”

There’s a sense of childish curiosity in his voice, like peers gossiping about the latest tea, but beneath it is something else. He circles his drink from his hands, eyes locked in place, mouth dropped in a way that screams ‘I dare you to answer’ and how his jaw tenses up after immediately asking, sets a fire into your inner thighs.

You let out a suffocated breath, pinching the skin of your thigh to snap you back into reality before the heat in his gaze singed your mouth shut. “Nope.”

He hums, relief grazing his harsh brows. “Not hung up on anyone?”

“No. Need an ex to be hung up with someone,” you quickly answer, before the bitter taste of regret stings your tongue.

“Interesting.”

You narrow at him. “What's so interesting about it?”

You want me. Just say it so I can lunge across this table to get to you.

“I haven’t seen you in years and you’re beautiful, smart, single. It doesn’t sound right.” He answers with a shrug.

Call me beautiful one more time. I will suck your dick right now under this table. I don’t care about being caught.

“There’s not really a reason, it’s just how it is. And maybe I’m not looking. Considered that?”

The only person I’m looking at is right in front of me—God, I can smell your cologne from here. Fuck. I want to devour you.

“Maybe, but me personally, I’d sweep you up before any guy could get the chance.” He chuckles.

Then do it. Stop teasing me.

“Chanmi would probably kill me tho. Probably say it’d ruin our dynamic.”

Oh shit. Here you were, lost in a head fogged up with lust and you hadn’t considered your best friends seeing you get shacked up with her brother. You were betraying her every second you though about her brother in a lewd sense. Although, she made no indication she’d be bothered by such a thing, but who wouldn’t? You weren’t going to let yourself off on a technicality.

“Don’t think we have much to worry about, though. I think we’ll be just fine.”

His words were like an anchor dropped in your gut. You didn’t know what was worse. Messing around with your best friend’s brother or the possibility of him rejecting the idea before it even started. You lose feelings in your legs, exhaling through your nose, and cry a little on the inside. You force an agreeing smile on your face. “Yeah. Chanmi doesn’t have to worry about anything.”

The meal comes to a close and you tell Chan you should get going home and he insists on driving. You were insane if you were going to spend another second in his presence, knowing fully well how he made you feel. He’s basically rejected you. It was over. Quit trying.

“Let me know if the AC is too cold. I can turn it down.”

You were that insane.

“All good.”

You sit in silence. The radio envelopes the air and you interlock your hands in discomfort, while Chan focuses on the road. It's not a long drive from your place, but it sure felt like it was. But it gave you all the time to reflect. You needed some of that. Maybe you could get your common sense back.

Of course, Lee Chan wasn’t going to fall for you. Not like this. Maybe if you and his sister weren't attached at the hip, it’s possible. But then again, he would be living a life of fame, the spotlight, other people way hotter and more suitable for him. Face facts.

“So, since you haven’t dated anyone, I’m assuming you’re a virgin.”

Oh. He was going to keep going.

“Um, not quite,” you chuckle nervously.

He raises a brow. “So, you lied to me.”

You shake your head, “Of course not. I’m not having sex right now with anyone or a single person consistently, if that’s what you were saying, but I’ve had sex.”

“Did you?”

Something in his tone makes you want to turn your head to his side. You don’t regret your decision seeing the whites of his knuckles as he grips the wheel. His voice may have sounded friendly, but he held himself taut, visibly restraining himself.

Oh, Chan.

“Yeah. I didn't consider them exes, just flings,” you thought to add.

“Flings.” He repeats.

You grin to yourself. “Yeah. I think a few times in high school and then a few more in college.”

“My, my. Aren’t you all grown up now?” You can almost hear him gritting his teeth, and you relished in it.

“Well, this is me.” You point at the building Chan forces himself to park at. He tightens his jaw in view, tapping the leather of the wheel in contemplation. Possibly at the revelation you’ve revealed to him. You lean in where your face comes into view, smiling an innocent smile. “Want to come in, Chan?”

You can see the dilemma in his eyes. There's a war going on his brain and either way, he was losing. Inevitably, he helps you unbuckle his seat before deciding to do the same thing to him. He plays your game with a humorless smile. “Why not?”

When you’re finally alone in the comfort of your home, it took everything in you to not jump him right then and there. His eyes scan over your living area, taking in the kick knacks, the tchotchkes you bought over time. It was as if he was rediscovering you, all of you, and for some reason, that made you more nervous than anything else. But that meant he was curious about you. He wanted to know more past what he saw as a child. He wanted to see you.

He snorts, crossing his arms, eyes finally landing on you. “I like your apartment. Am I the only guy you brought here you haven’t fucked?”

That could change.

You shrug, gallantly walking further and further away from him. “I don’t usually bring people over here. If I’m hooking up, it’s usually at their place.”

You let him watch. His eyes trained on your walk, a resisted urge tempted in every step you take. “You know that’s incredibly dangerous, right?”

“Anymore dangerous than letting them know where I live?” you retort.

He saunters over to you, side grinning in challenge. “Why are you trusting towards me?”

“Because,” you mimic his arms, “We have nothing to worry about. You said so.”

He glares down at you, taking one step closer. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Whatever do you mean, friend?”

He cocks his head, “You’re really testing your luck aren’t you, Y/n?”

You shrug, an obvious grin on your face, “I’m not testing anything. Exactly what are you implying?”

“Don’t push me, Y/n. You don’t want to find out what happens.”

“That’s funny,” now you’re the one backing him in a corner, pushing him, showing him, knee his shins until his fingers grip back in the arm of a couch, saying words you only ever dared to think, “Maybe don’t be a coward and fuck me already.”

His breath noticeably hitches and drinks in your assertion and feeds you back tenfold, pushing himself off the couch and colliding your lips, and a shock of immense arousal takes over your body. Goosebumps pebble your skin and involuntarily you moan in the lip lock, taking you longer than necessary to realize that Chan has backed you against a wall.

Your hand crawls into his hair, pushing him down to deepen your kiss as his hard member prods at your stomach. Hands run down to catch him, his clothed cock in your hands, feel how the zipper of his pants constricts him from taking up any more space, and you help spring him free.

“All this fat cock all for me? Chan, you shouldn’t have,” you playfully comment.

“It's what you wanted, isn't it?” He thrusts up against you, hiking up your leg to dig into your already pulsing core. “You want me to want you. To fuck you? Is that it?”

“Yes.” You answer definitely. “I want you to want me so bad it hurts. Just as badly as I want you.”

“It’s not some addiction you have? Move on from one fuck thing to the next?” He questions, venom on his tongue. He speaks with doubt, but his body defies him, drawn to you like opposing ends of a magnet, in need of you as much as you were in need of him.

“I don’t say things I don't 100 percent mean, Chan. If I wanted to just fuck you, I’d do it already.” You squeeze around him slightly tighter, wrapping your fingers around strands of his hair harder, hearing that stuttering grunt of his to reveal itself. “There's fucking, and then there’s you, Chan. I don’t just want to fuck you. I want to worship you.”

You catch a glimpse of his reaction to your startling response before lightly shove him off of you to get on your knees, scraping them against the textured wood. Lowering yourself gave a good view of the shift in his eyes, watching how they go from pure animosity to earth shattering enthrallment. Your hands come up to his hips, fingering from the waistband of his briefs and pulling it down with his pants, just to push it aside. His cock is big, hard, veiny, perfect to push down your throat.

You wrap your fingers around his girth, fingers trailing over his veins, counting the estimated inches. Disappointment didn’t even cross your mind.

“You have such a pretty, pretty cock,” you gasp, “have you thought about it? My lips wrapped around your cock. I know I have.”

Chan’s bottom lip gets trapped between his teeth. His eyes dilate as your lips purse over the curve of his tip, kissing the slit. His mind then settles on your previous words, wondering what they entail. “Worship? With that kind of offer, I’d hate to refuse. What about you?”

“What about me?” His shaft hugs the curve of your cheek.

“If you’ll worship me, what’ll happen to you?”

Your smile stretches across your face before kissing his length between speeches. “Well, if you let me. I’ll be all yours. Your tits”—kiss—“ass,”—kiss—“your pussy,”—“your mouth. I’ll be all yours.”

Chan can’t help but smile with you. His hand finds a way to thread through your hair, getting a good angle tug, and ripping a flirtatious giggle from your lips. “I get all that? Deal of the century.”

You hum in agreement before you feel him hug the inside of your mouth, fluttering your eyes at his size. Your tongue runs along his skin, taking it calmly, slowly. You make sure you’re breathing from your nose, savoring every second.

Chan breathes out controlled breaths, boring his lust driven gaze into your presence. His cock is more than pleased in your hot, wet mouth coating him in drool Your sweet, swollen lips were like the cherry on top of sundae. They were gloriously full and glossy getting him off. “Your lips are perfect around me. And this mouth is mine, you say?”

You nod as you bob down, not expecting him to thrust inside you, flinching against the wall. He puts either hand on either side of your head, holding you in place. Your eyes shut tight, feeling him twitching in your throat before pulling out. A ribbon of translucency stretches from your lips to his head.

“My pretty, little mouth.”

There is a darkness in which he stares at you, like releasing of pandora’s box. He was lost in power, greed, filth. Whatever it was, you were ready for more and you didn’t mind what it took. He pets your hair, dragging his fingers from root to tips, saying his scary final words before he fills your cheeks more with his cock. “Cherish that last breath. You’ll need it.”

Your head stays pinned to the wall, cock plunged in your mouth, the view of Chan’s unfailing erection and groin the only sight you’re able to take in this moment of suffocation. He wasn’t slow with it and he didn’t plan to be. Groaning, his hips push in your mouth, the back of your head hitting the wall behind you with every thrust, and the length flossing the pipe of your throat. You become a makeshift version of a glory hole. Your hands steady themselves on his hips until they are forced to pin above your head.

You wretch at his sheer force, but take every inch. Your tears burn your cheeks, feeling the tremble of your limbs. You cough, gag, swallowing him as you’re pushed past your normal limits and finally meet the base of his cock. He rams in you, lips to lap, mouth stretched and sore. Full didn’t even begin to describe how it felt for him to fuck your mouth like this.

He shows mercy when he feels close, thrusting in all the way and holds in your mouth for an exact five seconds until he lets you go. Your saliva and his pre-cum dribble all over your chin and neck, but a dazed smile on your face despite the mess. A hand to your neck, he pulls you up from the ground, pressing you full bodily back in the wall.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty fucking whore.” he hisses.

His hand invades the depths of your pants. Your sopping folds are easy to find as they coat his fingers like syrup, sweet and thick. “Pussy’s mine, hmm? Ass too?”

“Yes. yes, take all of me.” You impulsively part your legs, the gateway of your throat closing up as his grip gets tights. All the stars you were seeing shined brighter than the stars in the damn sky.

Chan tugs off your bottoms, throws it aside like garbage and lifts you on top of a kitchen counter. The cool marble stings your ass cheeks but you hardly notice as Chan nose deep in your pussy. His fingers dig deeper, tongue flicking starved at your entrance. “Sweet Jesus, you’re fucking wet. Fucking dripping down my arm.”

“I wasn’t lying to you, Chan.” Your leg hangs off his shoulder, feeling light as his tongue makes himself home in your warmth. “I want you, every part of you.”

They were more than enough words of encouragement as he’s lost in your thighs. The curve of his lips suck on your clit, eliciting a moan and would forever be ingrained to every wrinkle of his brain. His fingers–now down to his knuckles–traveling you at an unforgivable pace. He makes it known that he’d give you what you want, anything and everything in between, but he wouldn’t give you his patience.

His hand comes down at you hard on the center of your core, rubbing between every strike as he licks deep stripes, causing your whines of ache to grow louder. “More, Chan please. Touch my pussy more, like that.”

Your pain receptors could usually take so much pain, but with Chan, you’d sacrifice your nerves just to have him cum covering every inch of your body.

Swiftly, he reveals his upper body. Taut, firm muscles, packed in every region. Gleaming with sweat, his honey glazed abs flexes from the tension in his stomach. God, it was better than you ever imagined.

You watch as his strong arms pull you closer in his mouth. He latches on you like a leech, draw circles, finger fucking you until you’re drawing out his name in short bursts. Your jaw drops slack, clenching around his tongue, and pressing himself against you until you’re close. Oh, so close.

He pulls off at the worst moment and before you could protest, you taste your arousal on his tongue, feeling him pull off your blouse in the process. Tits in either of his hands, he roughly squeezes them, pinching tight at your stiff peaks enough for you to let out high pitched screeches. “Chan hurts!”

“Good.” He takes one in his mouth, nibbling one in his teeth before pinching the other one just as hard as before. You’re stuck between pain and pleasure, but as liquid escapes past your legs and the victor is clear.

“My tits…taste so sweet…like honey.” he mumbles.

You feel loved, worshiped, wet. You were wrapped around his finger, and if you get to be soe lucky, he’d feel that same way about you. After he’s done swelling your skin, he’s escorting you to what clearly is your room despite the first time of him being there and he dumps you on the bed.

“Ass in front, right now.”

Promptly, you do as he says, getting on all fours on the bed, lifting your ass welcome for him to take.

“Spread wider. I want to see that pretty pussy.”

Your legs naturally part further, the pigment of your sensitive flesh clear on display. Chan takes initiative. Putting himself between your divide, his tongue finding that familiar sweetness he parted with only a few minutes ago. “You taste so fucking good. I forgot all about saying that while in there earlier. You seem to do that to me.”

His hands come over the flesh of your ass, the sting of his hand is momentary before his tongue’s presence takes over, tasting you, inhaling you delicious scent, “Condom?” He manages to breathe out.

You shake your head, perspiration trailing your forehead. “But I’m clean, and on the pill. Like I said, you can do anything with me.”

Chan is blown over with a sense of relief, fishing his erection before lining up at your slit. He takes full strokes inside you, achingly slow, and you quiver at the fullness but whine when you’re immediately empty. He does that repeatedly, giving you the sensation before he rips it from you in mere seconds.

Yo pound your frustrated fists in the mattress. “Chan give me your cock… I want you please..”

“Really, Is it me you want?” He teases, “Or it is my cock fucking so deep in your pussy you feel it in your mouth?”

Vivid images in your head, you shudder at the depth of his now husky voice, “I want that from you. Only you. Please, I want you to cum in me…”

“Shit.” Hearing that made close already. “F-fine. Just shut the fuck up.”

He thrust in you, finding a pace to reside in. His mouth makes an o-shape at the clench of your wall. “Fuck wet pussy,”—slap—“wet, tight. All for me.”

Chan recalling your moans laced with ecstasy. Hearing you, watching the recoil of your ass hitting his lap, it was something he could get used to, but he could try. He forces his knees on the bed, pushing deeper inside you. He finds your hair before pulling, pushing you into to the mattress and muffling your moans until they melt into an oblivion.

“That reminds me,” he thinks to bring up, not minding the fact you were drowning in the duvet, “what is it you like being called?”

You muffle a response but if you were being honest, you could hardly think with his weight pushed back into you.

“Come on. What is it? Pick your poison.” He slows his pace, a hard, deep stroke taken with every term of endearment, “Baby? Sweetheart? Angel?”

You moan, but not enough.

He blinks, thinking it’s going somewhere when a light bulb goes up in his head. “Mmh, let's try this then. Clench harder, slut.”

You moan even louder, immediately following his command. He then pounds harder in you, lacking any clear remorse as his language becomes grunts, calling you ‘slut’, ‘whore,’ ‘fuckhole,’ every name in the book until you buck at his hips.

Shake as hard as an earthquake, saying his name, speaking your orgasm into existence. It’s all you feel as your vision becomes further away from the comprehensive. You become a lifeless body that takes every second as if you never would again, collapsing on the bed.

Chan, a man with solutions, flips you on your back. A leg of yours comes up on his chest, ankle over his shoulder and he bottoms out inside you, another tidal wave that jumpstart your adrenaline. “I’m not fucking done with you yet. You said you’d be mine and you will be for as long as I want.”

Your leg takes his side as he folds into you, lips messily meeting yours, tongue tasting the inside of your mouth, he takes you even deeper and your way to feel can't be described as anything else but bliss. You caress his face, while his hand reconnected with your neck. You’re trailing down to feel down his torso, the pads of his fingers pushing against the column of your neck tighter. Life leaving your body, you count each ab, cup each peck, palm over each stiff peak, and trace over each muscle. If you could leave earth by this method, you would. Your voice is raspy, but takes no break from praising him.

“You’re fucking my pussy so good, feel so fucking good in my hands. Don’t. Fucking. Stop.”

“You like that,” kissing you in a curt repetitive action, sweeter than intended, “can you take…my…cum?”

“Yes,” you frantically nod, “cum in me. I want all your cum in me. Breed me please. I want you, only you, to fuck me, empty out in me, and repeat.”

His load is as warm as a home cooked meal, shooting in you, jerking into your body in a well-practiced motion. His body embraces you, closing in on you, while he tucks you in tight. You only remember the smile on his face when he cums. It looks like love in his eyes, warmth, and you are positive that that’s what it is because you're looking at him the same way. It feels like a perfect happy ending.

But nothing is over until Chan says it is over.

That day turned into night before you know it and all you’ve done is be in each other arms and fucking your shared cum back into places they belong. Despite the performance, Chan ended up being a gentleman, asking you where your spare clean towels were and helping you clean up the mess you’ve made. All the time and energy drained you both and with the lack of motivation to cook, you both called food to be delivered.

In an attempt to be presentable, you take the shirt he once wore and display it on yourself, his scent enveloping you like it were his embrace. That meant Chan had to walk around topless, and by George, that was quite the sight. You join him on the couch. His arm slings over your side, tenderly kissing your face as you feel up his body. You couldn’t help but grin like a love stricken puppy, memorizing every dent of every chiseled muscle, appreciating its entirety. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

Chan hums, before muffling a thanks and taking your kiss-swollen lips in his. “I think you’re sexy.”

You giggle, reciprocating, already finding yourself straddling his lap, and that erection that’s already gone and inflated himself. This man had it all didn’t he?

Then it dawned on you. Maybe too late, but it did.

You part from him, eyes furrowed in worry.

Concern is written all over his face, and he curls your hair behind his ear, “what’s wrong?”

“What are we going to do about Chanmi?”

His expression soon matches yours as he sighs. His hand comes behind your head, kissing foreheads, and curls up in a reassuring smile. “I’m sure she’ll be happy for us.”

“And If she isn’t?”

His hands tighten on the fabric of the shirt. “She’ll just have to.”

“She’s my best friend.”

“And she’s my sister. And I’m her only brother. We are two people she cares about and we’re happy together. Why wouldn’t she be happy?”

Your lips curl up in a small smile. “We’re together?”

His smile reaches his eyes. “I don’t think I’d spend all day like this with you if we weren’t.”

You kiss him, chaste and slow, and letting go before the heat travels back to your head, fogging your rationale. “I like you a lot, Chan.”

“I like you a lot, Y/n.”

“What about your career?”

He rolls his eyes, filling rubbing circles in your hips. “Why? Scared this superstar will run away from you for his chance in the spotlight?”

You grin mischievously, “No, aren’t you worried I’ll outshine you on the red carpet? I’ll be your date for every one of them now.”

“Then they’ll have no choice but to put me in everything under the sun.” He grins back.

2K notes · View notes

joshym · 14 days ago

Text

all i want

Pairing: ex husband!Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Even the deepest, most all-encompassing love is not always destined to endure.

Word Count: 25.3k + (this one definitely got away from me, lol)

Warnings: marriage ending in divorce, becoming parents, stress/anxiety, heavy emotions, drunkenness, arguing, angst, some good fluff

SMUT: 18+ ONLY: unprotected sex, oral (f!rec), a few risque photographs captured, a lot of kissing. maybe too much.

a/n: happy new year! 🤍 big thank you (& an even bigger apology over how long this took me) to this wonderful anon for their request. this was one of my favorites sitting in my inbox, & i wanted to be sure to give it the right amount of time to create it. love you, anon. 🤍

as always - i owe a huge, gigantic, massive thank you to my sister, @jakeyt. without her, this wouldn't be what it is. thank you, sis. for everything.

enjoy, my loves.

listen while you read.🤍

"All I want is nothing more

To hear you knocking at my door"

↟ᨒ.⊹݁⚘⊹⚘⊹⚘ ⊹.ᨒ↟

He was your best friend.

The two of you were inseparable from the moment you met almost twenty years ago now. Two peas in a pod, as everyone would say. He’s been your favorite person in the whole world for the better part of your life. You can’t even recall a time that he wasn’t there – life before him just doesn’t exist to you anymore.

It wasn’t until your junior year of high school that things…changed. You began seeing him in a new light – he started to look different to you. Different in a good way, of course.

That was the year he started to grow into the man you’d find yourself falling deeply in love with, the man you knew you were destined to spend the rest of your conceivable days with.

Three short years later, his was the face you’d see as you walked barefoot along the soft grass, littered in pink rose petals. Your hands held a small bouquet of the same roses that matched the petals at your feet, mixed with a few baby's breaths that you’d also braided in your hair.

An intimate ceremony in early Spring was all you truly wanted. Just you, Jake, and a few people whom you both loved the most. Essentially an elopement – you just never felt the need to plan a ceremony of grandeur. It simply didn’t suit the two of you; it was never a show for you and Jake. It was simply you and Jake. He was your person. As long as you had him, a big celebration wasn’t necessary to you. Becoming his wife was the celebration.

You only had two stipulations for the decor; as many pink roses as your small, combined salaries could muster, and the Laramie mountains of Wyoming that you both grew up hiking together. The wildlife, peaceful and welcoming, served as beautiful additions to celebrate your matrimony.

Your dress was made by your grandma's own two hands, woven entirely in delicate lace. The sleeves draped gracefully from your shoulders, and the small train that dragged behind you gathered pieces of the earth as you walked toward your love, though you didn’t mind the stains at all. Just the same, you never bothered to remove them. The earth and its gifts were just as much a part of the day as the wedding dress was.

As you made your solo walk down the earth's aisle, everything around you was a blur. Jake, the most handsome man your eyes had ever been given the pleasure to gaze upon, was the only thing clear to you in that moment. His hair, wind blown to beautiful perfection, and his skin, smooth and kissed by the sun. The white linen shirt he wore was left open around his chest, the mix of silver and gold charms decorating his skin, catching the rays from the eventide sun.

You shared your first kiss as one at dusk, with the sun falling carefully below the mountains that proudly stood behind you. A sea of monarchs flew over the two of you, as if Mother Nature herself was celebrating your union, stamping her very own approval.

There was nothing else in the world that mattered in that moment as you gazed into your new husband's eyes – his eyes that the golden rays themselves paled in comparison to. You both understood, from the instant your lips met, that your lives had truly just begun.

The wedding was as near perfect as any could be. Picturesque, serene – the air felt fresh, anew. Your husband swayed you in his arms as you danced to nature's music, dancing until the sun closed her eyes and gave way for the moon to bathe you in her light.

Mr. and Mrs. Kiszka — never was there a title you were more proud to wear. With the most delicate and dainty golden band around your ring finger, your bond was at last sealed.

Without the funds to take a proper honeymoon, you instead spent a quiet week in a secluded cabin in those very same mountains that joined you on your wedding day. You don’t remember leaving the little log home once during that week. Each day was spent just the two of you – no television, no intrusions from cell phones, no internet, just you and Jake. As it was always meant to be. You made love more times that week than you dare count, practically never bothered to put clothes on the whole time. You both knew they would be stripped off before you even had the chance to properly get dressed.

It was the best week of your life, for reasons that are invaluable to you. Not only did you spend every second of that time loving your brand new husband, but the love from that week resulted in the creation of the very thing that represented the earth shattering adoration you shared for one another.

The pregnancy came a little earlier than you had truly wanted. And it’s not that you weren’t over the moon excited for the addition, the two of you certainly weren’t as prepared as you wish you would’ve been.

But, then again, is one ever truly prepared for such a thing?

It was scary. Terrifying, even. Jake doted over you in every way imaginable, taking care of your each and every need as they came about. Everything became about what was best for the baby, including scrounging to find a new place to live. The one bedroom studio just wasn’t going to cut it for your soon-to-be family of three. Though you’d always dreamed of a beautiful home with acres and acres of land on the outskirts of Casper, where you could gaze at the mountains from your own backyard, you just didn’t have the time or the money you needed to acquire such a thing.

The old home you found in the city was beautiful, but your finances weren’t sufficient enough to sustain a mortgage just yet. Let alone all the things necessary for a newborn baby, your little girl, who was due to arrive in only a matter of months after you moved into your mostly unfurnished home. The stress eventually led to financial tension in your marriage. Jake had no choice but to take up a few jobs, along with his freelance photography, while you worked from home as much as you could. Your marriage was being tested early on, tested in ways neither of you were equipped to handle at the time.

You still loved each other. God did you love each other. But even a love so profound and seemingly limitless wasn’t enough to endure each strain tossed your way. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t see eye to eye on, well, most everything.

But, of course, the number one priority was the baby. The only things you could agree on at that time were anything that had to do with her. The theme of her nursery, which you both decided should be mountains. The two of you spent weeks painting the same ranges that were a symbol of your love on her walls. Everything in her room depicted the very place she was conceived, and the place you vowed to love your husband for the rest of your life.

Her name hadn’t been decided just yet, but when the moment was right, it came naturally. Though your new marriage was experiencing an upheaval, her name was something that didn’t require a second thought from either of you.

Laramie Rose Kiszka.

Laramie, after the mountains that oversaw your union. Rose, representing the ones you held, the ones that led a path to the man you’d always loved. The only man you’d ever loved.

Every marriage has its hardships, though neither of you were expecting them to occur so soon. There are many things that happened during that time that you’ll always question. But one thing you undoubtedly knew then, and what you still know now –

The love in your heart for him, in spite of it all, has never wavered.

↟ᨒ.⊹݁⚘⊹⚘⊹⚘ ⊹.ᨒ↟

She was born at the very beginning of the year, on the coldest January day you’d ever known. Flurries of snow spit from the sky as she entered the world, covering the entire town of Casper with its sparkling blanket of white. Your labor was anything but easy, lasting for nearly thirteen hours. The most painful thing your body ever experienced, yet the most beautiful thing came from it.

Jake was by your side every second of it. Holding your hand that was squeezing the life out of his, wiping the sweat from your forehead, placing a cool washcloth against your skin when you needed it. He was your strength in that moment, when you felt you’d all but lost yours as your body struggled to bring her into the world.

And then, when she was ready, she came. The moment you heard her first cry, all the pain in your weak body subsided, replaced with a warmth that you can only describe as pure love. As the nurse handed her to you, when you looked into her eyes for the very first time, it was as though the last thirteen hours of painful labor no longer existed. You were healed the instant you saw her.

“Welcome to the world, my sweet Laramie Rose,” you whispered to her as you held her against your bare chest for the first time. Her eyes held the entire world. She was everything beautiful and perfect that could ever be offered to you, in her tiny six pound body that you held safely for nine months.

“My gorgeous girls,” Jake said as he leaned over and kissed you on the lips, then your baby girl on her tiny forehead. “My family.”

Tears fell from Jake’s eyes as he held her for the first time, the smile of a brand new, proud dad worn across his quivering lips. You’d never seen anything more pure in your life, and everything that had transpired over the last nine months just didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was Laramie, and the desire to protect her at all costs, with Jake by your side to ensure she’d have the best life both of you could give her. It was no longer about the two of you; it was about the three of you.

Everything felt right in that moment. It was as if, at last, everything had all fallen into place exactly as it was always meant to. It felt as though Laramie was the very thing the two of you needed to get back to the root of it all, back to the way you felt the day you said ‘I do.’ She gave you a reason, a purpose. One that you weren’t prepared for, but one that you were so grateful for.

The first few months were hard, being thrown into the throes of parenthood before you were truly given the chance to enjoy being married. But, she was worth every second. Watching her grow and change, seeing her smile for the first time, admiring her innocent view of the world around her – you just couldn’t believe that you and Jake had a hand in creating something so perfect.

It wasn’t easy, sure. But it was, and still is, the greatest joy of your life – to be her mother, and Jake to be her father.

However, while your tiny girl was the sweetest, happiest baby, you and Jake were struggling to find your footing. The bills continued to pile, and Jake just couldn’t manage working more than one job any longer. It was a miracle when he landed a spot with an incredibly renowned photographer as an assistant, finally able to get his foot in the door with his craft.

The money was good. It was great, actually. His first paycheck alone paid up all of the bills, including the late fees. The job made it possible for you to be a full-time, stay at home mom. Something you and Jake both agreed was the best thing for Lara.

With the money Jake was making, you truly thought that the problems in your marriage would solve themselves. The stress of finances was the biggest problem between the two of you, and when that was no longer a hindrance, you felt your marriage would heal itself in no time.

But, that wasn’t the case.

Arguments, though petty and utterly pointless, soon became a daily occurrence. Multiple times a day, at that.

It was always the same things — he was gone all the time for work so you felt like you were parenting alone, and he felt his every effort to take care of his family was lost on you.

None of it was true, but both of you were far too stubborn to admit to any wrong doings. The arguments resulted in awful things being said to one another. Your frustrations would cause your lips to utter things neither one of you meant – things you didn’t mean, at least – and that caused you to heavily resent one another.

But, the biggest fight occurred when Jake proposed the idea of moving away. All for his job. He swore that it would be the best thing for your family, that he wouldn’t have to travel so often. A promising studio, located just east of Los Angeles, offered him a position for more than double the income he was bringing in. He essentially accepted the job before ever uttering a word about it with you.

And that was your final straw.

You felt betrayed in the worst ways, and the idea of leaving Casper, of leaving the place that held so much history for you and Jake, leaving the mountains…that wasn’t something you were willing to budge on. Up until that moment, you thought you were both in agreement that raising Lara here was what was truly best for her.

At that point, you both knew what needed to be done.

It wasn’t an easy choice to make, but it was the right one. The only one, in fact. Not what either of you wanted, but what you knew you needed. It was the hardest lesson of ‘want’ and ‘need’ that you’ve ever learned.

Neither one of you wanted to raise your daughter in an environment like that, with parents who just weren’t equipped for what being married meant. Living together was simply too difficult for you and Jake. You were the same in so many ways, yet completely different when it truly mattered. It ultimately boiled down to consistent disagreements that were beyond repair.

So, when Lara turned a year old, you both decided that, for the sake of being the best parents you could be to your precious girl, splitting was the best thing you could do for her. And for yourselves.

The divorce seemed to come as naturally as the wedding did. For the first time in over a year, there were no arguments, no words spoken out of anger. It was a seamless transition, but one that left a scar on your heart.

It was Jake’s choice for you to keep the house, and it only made sense given the nature of his job and the chance he’d move away. And it was that very reason you were initially granted full custody of Lara. You were able to offer her a stable home that the judge felt needed prioritized. Jake pleaded with the judge, promised he wouldn’t leave if that’s what it took to see her more. But, the judge wouldn’t hear it. The pain in Jake’s eyes as he dutifully agreed to the arrangement still haunts you most everyday.

But, none of it sat right with you. As far as Lara went, Jake had done nothing wrong. He was – is – the perfect dad. You didn’t want his time with her to be limited to a week or two in the Summer when your schedules would allow. That wasn’t good enough for you, for Jake, or for Lara.

She needed her dad just as much as she needed you.

It took some convincing, but the judge eventually agreed to split the custody evenly, so long as Jake didn’t move so far away. And you made it known that you would settle for no less than that. The problems with you and Jake were only between you and Jake. That custody agreement would’ve been a punishment for Lara just as much as it would’ve been for Jake, and that wasn’t okay with you in the least. You saw no purpose in taking away most of his parental rights, keeping your daughter from her dad, all because the two of you were incapable of living together.

Because of your insistence on keeping Lara in Wyoming, Jake sacrificed a lot to ensure he’d see her as much as possible. He didn’t make the move that he could’ve easily made without being married to you to keep him from doing so.

He chose to stay close by, a promise he made to your baby that he’d always make her a priority. Living separately, but within close proximity of one another, was the best and only option the two of you found some common ground on.

Jake kept his job as an assistant photographer, but was made the lead photographer within months of your split. He leases a lovely studio apartment, only a few miles away from your house. You found work as an editor for The Lantern, a small publication that features free-lance writers from all over the country. The job, being something you’ve always had a passion for, made it possible for you to work from home. In spite of it all, after hitting endless bumps in the road, the path eventually smoothed out and led you both to lives of harmony with one another.

And while you and Jake couldn’t live together, you soon discovered that you could work seamlessly as the perfect co-parenting team when apart. You couldn’t love her – or each other – properly while together, but god, how the two of you shower her with endless, thunderous love on your own. The love you had for one another has transformed into an even deeper love for her, the one that deserves it the most.

Though it was painful in ways beyond your sweet Lara, the way you and Jake had chosen to raise her was truthfully much better than forcing yourselves to try and sustain a marriage. One that just wasn’t meant to work. A hard pill to swallow, but one that allowed for healing and, most importantly, the promise of the best life you could offer your daughter.

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The last two years have gone by so quickly – too quickly. You’ve watched as Lara has grown into the most lively, feisty almost four year old, with her messy auburn ringlets that seem to hold a life of their own. Her eyes, the exact shape of Jake’s and their hazel color mimicking yours, are so vibrant and full of the life ahead of her.

She’s growing so fast, faster than you can keep up with. She’s changing everyday, her personality developing more and more in every little thing she does. She’s a lot like you in plenty of ways, but you’d argue she’s even more like her dad. And if you were honest, that’s one of the best things about her.

She’s endlessly curious, finding wonder in everything around her. Bright — perhaps even too sharp for her own good at times — she’s just shy of her third birthday, yet speaks as though she’s lived a lifetime. She can make a story out of anything, her imagination boundless. Her first words, after ‘daddy’ and ‘mommy’,’ were ‘once upon a time.’ She gives a name to every bird she sees, talks to the flowers in the backyard as if they’re her life-long friends. All of these things that remind you of Jake, of what it was like to grow up with him.

Though she’s still so little, you can see the admiration in her eyes when she looks at him. She loves him – probably more than any little girl could love her dad. She loves you, too. Her love is unconditionally pure and whole. And while she is completely attached to you, with her dad, it’s different.

But you can’t fault her, and you could never be envious of her adoration for him. He is, in every sense, the easiest person to love. And, as you’ve known for the better part of your life, the easiest to fall in love with.

It pains you to admit, but you’re not sure you’ll ever love anyone the way you loved – love – Jake. Though you’re no longer together, in your eyes, Jake was your first and last. No matter how hard he was to be married to.

In the two years since your split, you’ve not been on a single date since your signature inked the divorce documents. You’ve been asked more than a few times, and while you have said yes to most of them, you find yourself backing out at the last minute every time.

It’s not that you haven’t wanted to move on from Jake, it’s that you can’t.

He’s still very much a part of your life. The two of you are always in touch, all for Lara. Constant communication with the only man you’ve ever loved, being the mother of his beautiful daughter, it’s impossible to move on from him.

Jake, however, didn’t seem to have a problem moving on from you right away. In fact, he’s moved on several times. You’ve lost count of the dates he’s gone on since you, though none of them have ever stayed around long enough to meet Lara.

While you’re not privy to the true reasons why, you’re willing to place a bet or two on the fact that they weren’t keen on dating a man whose daughter will always come before anyone else. It’s possible that he just couldn’t commit to giving them the attention they desired from him.

Still yet, the fact that he has gone on so many tells you that he’s more than over you. And while you know you shouldn’t care the way you do, it just can’t be helped. Your marriage was awful, but it doesn’t change that he’s still Jake. The man you’ve spent almost nearly all of your life with, in one way or another.

So, that’s another way that you two are different – he can go on dates, enjoy being a young, single man with movie-star looks, and you are destined to be a single mom for the rest of your life because you can’t.

You often wonder if the true reason you’ve never gone out with anyone is because you’re hopeful that, someday, you and Jake could work things out. Try again, dig up the love you once held so deeply for one another.

But, it’s a foolish hope, you’ve come to know. Aside from a few wandering looks and his famously warm smiles, he’s never shown even the slightest interest in mending things with you beyond a co-parenting relationship.

No matter what, useless hope or not, he is still the father of your daughter. Always will be. And there’s not a single person you’d want more than him to have that role.

But you’ll never deny that you wish things would’ve turned out a little differently.

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Incessant knocking forces you out of your peaceful dream. Your eyes fly open, your body jolting to a seated position on your bed before your brain even registers what’s happening. The knocking then happens again, somehow louder than the pounding of your heart from the intrusion. That’s when you at last begin to come to.

There’s no way he’s here already, you absently think, frantically searching for your phone that’s buried somewhere in the midst of your tangled bedsheets. Once you finally locate it, you note that it’s not even half past seven yet. He’s not supposed to be here for another three hours.

Your phone alarm was set accordingly, but the much earlier Jake alarm clearly had other plans.

This isn’t exactly an unusual occurrence. It’s not out of the norm for him to show up a little early from time to time to pick up Lara for their ‘daddy daughter date’ he plans a few times a month, separate from her nights she stays with him.

Three hours early, though, is certainly pushing it. And as the knocking at the door, loud and abrasive as ever continues, you’re left with no choice but to lift your tired body out of your warm bed, grab the nearest garment to cover your oversized t-shirt and thong clad body, and reluctantly trudge toward the source of what woke you up.

The image of you is much less than appealing when you answer the door. Your hair, a tangled mess of two day old curls, and remnants of yesterday's eyeliner and mascara smeared on your eyes. The only thing within reach to cover your body was an old, torn robe that, coincidentally, belonged to your ex husband once upon a time. You certainly didn’t do that on purpose. This robe was designated yours long before you took your vows. It didn’t even cross his mind to take it when he moved out, knowing it hadn’t been truly his in years.

“Sorry, I thought you’d already be up and around,” he chuckles, a little hesitantly, perhaps due to the annoyed expression painting face. He takes one look at the robe that you’re certain he recognizes, curling his lips in an awkward grin as his eyes flick up and down your tired body. “Guess I should’ve known better with you,” he winks, taking a step inside the foyer before closing the door behind him.

You could feel your cheeks warm at the sound of his voice. It frustrates you to no end that your ex still has an effect on you. Why are you so embarrassed for him to see you this way? He was married to you, afterall. He’s seen you in far worse shape than this.

Still – you’d like to be a bit more put together when he comes by. Maybe just to ensure that he feels the same way you do about him, give him something to be flustered about. Though, you know that’s nothing more than a mere pipe dream.

Jake pads down the hall to her bedroom where she’s still tucked away in her brand new big girl bed, an early birthday gift from her dad. You were afraid his knocking might’ve woken her, but, following close behind Jake, you see her still lost in her quiet slumber.

Every stuffed animal she owns is cuddled against her, her hair almost as disheveled as yours, until Jake's hand brushes a few curls away from her face. You’re standing at the doorway, watching him wake her, kissing her scrunched nose until her eyes open.

It takes her only a moment to realize it’s her daddy here to wake her this morning, and when she feels the familiar locks of mousey hair falling over her, she leaps out of her mess of stuffies to hug his shoulders, squealing as he picks her up the rest of the way, hugging her close too his chest.

The smile that befalls you just can’t be helped. Her reactions to seeing him will always send a flood of warmth to your heart. She’s practically shaking with pure, childlike excitement , giggling as he covers her face in kisses.

“I’ll get her ready,” Jake says between kiss attacks, catching the smile still on your face as he looks at your tired form. “You can go back to bed if you want.” His smile is as bright as the sun peeking through the blinds of her windows.

While going back to bed does sound nice, you’re already up. There’s no sense making yourself begin the day for a second time. With as much as you need to do today, sleeping a few extra hours would only prolong the inevitable. “Well, I’m already up. Might as well stay that way,” you say, though you know your tone came across a little snarkier than you intended. The sleepiness talking, of course.

Bouncing Lara on his hip, Jake raises his eyebrows at your response, grinning from the corner of his mouth. The room stays silent for a moment, save for Lara’s relentless giggling from tickles from her dad. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant –,” you try alleviating the sudden awkward tension you’ve created, finding it hard to do so. You used to be able to say anything to Jake, and there was never an uncomfortable moment with him. My, how things have certainly changed.

“She’d love it if you got her ready,” you continue, being sure your tone reflects the sincerity behind your words. “I just mean I have a lot to do today, and it’s probably a good thing you came so early or I wouldn’t have had a reason to get out of bed until much later.”

Jake smiles, lifting Lara in the air through a boisterous fit of tiny giggles. “That sound good to you, little one? You trust your daddy to put together a stylish outfit for our day of fun?”

As loud as her little lungs will allow, she screeches the word yes! through an excited, full baby-toothed grin. He gives her cheek one more smooch before setting her back down on her bed and walking towards her closet, shuffling through the neatly hung, color coded clothes.

“Still taking her to the aquarium?” You ponder aloud, watching him pull out one of her favorite winter ensembles to wear. Her bright pink corduroy overalls, paired with the softest white turtleneck. Upon catching a glimpse of what he chose for her to wear, her approval is obvious in her excited shrill.

“Yeah, I figured she’d enjoy the new shipwreck exhibit they just added,” he says as he helps her get dressed, chuckling at her insistence to do it herself. She does pretty well for the most part, only having trouble getting the snaps to close on the straps.

Jake’s never been the best at taming her unruly curls, and after watching him struggle for a moment, you decide to step in and offer a hand.

“Are you sure you’re not the one who’s most excited for the new addition?” You sneer, jokingly. The comment forces a laugh from him and a knowing tilt of his head as he hands you a pink hair tie.

With one more spritz of water from her purple spray bottle, her ponytail is laying perfectly. Wetting your fingers a bit, you twist a few of her ringlets, making them a little more defined.

After getting her teeth brushed, her socks and boots on her feet, and her purple puffer on, she’s ready for her day. Jake has planned a quick McDonald's breakfast, the aquarium, and lunch at Johnny Jay’s before he has to get ready for a photoshoot with some clients today. Even on his work days, he still makes time for her. Something that you know she’ll always be grateful for.

You lift her in your arms for a big hug, kissing her cheeks so much that she’s belly laughing. Telling her you love her more than the mountains, and after she says it back in her sweet voice, you bid them both a farewell.

“I’ll have her back around one o’clock. That sound good to you?” He tells you while he walks through the front door, hand in hand with little Lara.

“Sounds good to me. You two have fun, okay?”

“We sure will,” he says, turning back to look at you. “Wave bye to momma!”

Her smile is infectious as she waves her tiny, gloved hand to you, the grin on her face nearly mimicking her dads.

Waving back, blowing kisses for her to catch, you watch him secure her in her car seat before he sits himself in the front seat of his black Buick.

You're not sure if it's out of habit or a deep-rooted maternal instinct, but you always find yourself standing outside, watching as he backs out of the driveway and drives down the street. There's a certain comfort in seeing him safely on his way, enough to ease your mind until his text arrives, letting you know they’ve made it to their destination safely.

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You’ll never get used to how quiet the house is when Lara is gone. No matter how often she’s with her dad, it’s always a shock to you when her voice isn’t echoing off the walls. It should serve as some relief to you, to have the silence and the time to do the things you can’t normally do with her around.

But, it’s just not that way for you. Never has been. Lara has never been a nuisance for you, never been too much in any aspect. She’s almost always attached to your hip, following you around the house and watching your every move, helping you with little mundane tasks the best she can.

Because of that, it’s so very strange when you don’t have your tiny shadow by your side.

Nevertheless, as much as you miss her presence, it is easier to get things done when she’s spending the day with her dad. So, you’ll be sure to get everything you’ve needed to do out of the way before she’s due back home.

Grocery shopping was first on the list, a trek that has proven to be difficult with a toddler that needs constant entertainment. Though not impossible with her, it’s a bit harder to get in and out of the store in a timely manner.

But, today, you managed to cross each thing off your list in less than thirty minutes. And that is a feat of great magnitude. When Lara is with you, it takes double, sometimes triple that. And it doesn’t help that she begs for nearly everything she sees. The last time she took a trip to the store with you, she spotted a purple mini digital camera, decorated with a rainbow unicorn around the lens. She cried and cried when you weren’t able to get it for her. And it wasn’t because you didn’t want to, of course. Your budget for the day just didn’t have any room for it.

She cried the rest of the time you were at the store, such sad and heartbroken tears, and there was nothing you could do to offer her any solace. Her cries only worsened as you left the store, coming to the realization that she really wasn’t getting the very thing her little heart desired the most that day. You even shed a tear or two over it, feeling like you’d somehow failed her as her mom. You know that’s a dramatic take on the whole thing, but it’s how you feel every time you’re the reason her feelings get hurt.

It’s been a few weeks since then, and while she has more than likely forgotten all about it, you still feel awful for turning her down. It’s not often that you tell her no, but you had no choice that day. How do you explain the concept of a budget to a two-year old? She just doesn’t understand, and you can’t fault her for that.

So, when you saw it today, and saw that it was on sale for $19.99, you couldn’t resist getting it for her. Her very own camera, and though it’s too early to tell, this could perhaps be the catalyst in following in her daddy’s footsteps. You’re almost certain that’s the reason she was so drawn to it in the first place, because she sees one hanging around her daddy’s neck almost every time she’s with him.

With the camera, along with her favorite treat of chocolate Teddy Grahams, there’s no doubt she’ll be thrilled when she sees her surprises awaiting her when Jake brings her home today.

Some might say you spoil her a bit too much. You and Jake, both guilty of it. But, that’s not how you see it. She’s as grateful as any toddler could be. And, though she is so young, she cherishes everything the two of you do for her. She says thank you as many times as she can. She gives out hugs and kisses to show her appreciation. She’s not entitled, by any means. Her heart just wasn’t made that way.

And it’s all of those reasons that made your heart ache when you had to tell her no a few weeks ago.

Being able to buy it today, and getting to surprise her with it fills that tiny hole in your heart that forms when you can’t give her what she longs for.

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Grocery shopping, even without a toddler, is a rather exhausting journey. To say the very least. All you think about right now is a coffee from your most treasured spot in town, something to keep your motivation and energy up for the rest of your list of things to get done today.

The caffeine-induced relief is already hitting you as you walk into the Copper Cup Coffee, your tried and true brew of choice. The place you find yourself landing at often when you’re in need of a good pick me up. The bitterly sweet aroma of the coffee is one that will always give you a sense of comfort.

After placing your order of your staple cappuccino with an extra shot with the lovely barista, you find a small table in the corner next to the window to sit at while you wait for your drink, enjoying the view of downtown Casper.

But as you’re eying the bustling streets filled with locally owned boutiques and cafes, you’re suddenly becoming all too aware of a man at the opposite end who, as best as your peripheral vision can tell, seems to be looking right at you. And not just looking, staring.

You’re so caught off guard by it that you nearly miss them calling your name to pick up your coffee from the counter. They have to call it a second time for it to fully register, and you quickly jump from your seat to retrieve it.

It’s then that you’re able to properly look at the man who’s been eyeing you for the last few minutes. And when he begins to approach you as you’re making eye contact, toting his iced coffee in hand, your mind suddenly digs up a memory from the past.

“You wouldn’t happen to be y/n, would you?” He asks with a sweet smile as you take your coffee from the counter, thanking the worker that placed it there.

You didn’t recognize who he was initially, but upon hearing his voice, you know exactly who this man is.

Cole Robinson, a friend of yours and Jake’s from high school. One that you certainly spent a lot of time with, though Jake grew less fond of having him around when the two of you developed feelings for each other. Cole was the popular guy, the sporty type. The kind of guy that had a new love interest every other week. And, according to Jake, Cole had always been infatuated by you.

You never noticed it, but Jake swore it was so. Because of that, and a slew of other reasons unbeknownst to you, their friendship didn’t sustain much longer than a year or so after graduation. Last you knew, Cole married a girl you also went to high school with. Some cheerleader named Olivia you knew in passing.

It’s a bit of a shock to see him, to see how much he’s changed. He was never ugly to you, but you didn’t exactly find him attractive when you were teens.

But now – well, he’s certainly not the same Cole you knew all those years ago. He’s much taller than the version of him that you remember, and a bit more broad in the shoulders. A lot more, actually.

His hair was usually unkempt and plastered to his forehead from the football helmet he often wore. But the man standing before you today is sporting perfectly quaffed, dark brown locks, with the sides nicely faded.

“C-Cole? Oh my gosh, I hardly recognized you,” you admit, attempting to conceal your flustered state as his smile, full of stark white, perfectly straight teeth, widens at your realization of who he is. “I mean you just – you look different.”

He sighs a chuckle through his grin, looking down at his feet as he runs a hand through his styled hair and scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess I shot up a few inches. Learned how to use a hair dryer,” he giggles, his sky-blue eyes flitting to yours once more. “And you, well –,” he starts, gesturing his hand toward you as he awkwardly shuffles his feet, crossing one foot over the other before he places both hands in the pockets of his dark wash jeans. “You’re as pretty as ever. You must have an endless supply from the fountain of youth or something.”

The heat rises to your cheeks at his words, feeling as though all of the blood in your body is sitting right on your face. Ever since having Lara, you’ve feared your looks have dwindled with motherhood. So, hearing someone say that to you (someone who looks like this, no less) is a bit flattering.

You’ve found yourself at a loss for words, not knowing how to respond to a compliment such as that. But as you’re pondering what to say, you notice Cole staring at your left hand, and while you can’t be totally sure as to why, you have an inclination he could be searching for signs of marriage.

And that has you remembering that he is – was, based on his own lack of a ring – married. But before you can begin to ask him how Olivia is doing, only to gauge whether or not he really is separated from her, he beats you to it with a question that floods your heart with an odd mix of emotions. “How's Jake doing these days? It must be cool being married to such a renowned photographer. I’ve seen his work, he’s really good!”

Funny you should ask, you internally mull over, cupping the warm drink a little tighter in both of your hands.

With an uncomfortable weight sitting on your chest, you prepare yourself to share the news that has been your least favorite to speak about in the time you’ve been split from Jake. “We um…well, we’re actually not married anymore.” No matter how many times you say it, the words still leave a stinging feeling against your tongue. His face softens after hearing what you’ve said, a different sort of smile befalling his lips. “But to answer your question, he’s doing really well. I actually just saw him, he’s with our daughter right now. They’re on a little date before his photoshoot here in a few hours.”

“I’m sorry to hear that – that you’re not married anymore.” His tone reflects sincerity, yet his smile continues to widen. “You know I – I’ve been through a divorce, too. Liv and I, we just wanted different things. I didn’t want to indulge in whatever big city dreams she had at the time, she didn’t want to stay here. I think we just got hitched too young, you know?”

Boy, do I.

“But it worked out in the end. She went away and found her dream job, I stayed in the place I love and found mine.”

His story strikes a particular chord in your mind, one that brings you back to a time when you and Jake had countless disagreements over whether to stay in Wyoming or leave for the sake of his blossoming career. Of course, you didn’t want to leave. Especially with the promise of a new baby, you didn’t have the desire to raise her anywhere else. Aside from that, you just couldn’t leave the mountains.

After the divorce, Jake had every opportunity to leave like he had always wanted. But, knowing that you would keep Lara here, he chose to travel in lieu of moving somewhere that would keep him from seeing her whenever he wanted. The guilt over that still plagues you, but you know, and he knows, deep down, that it was the best choice for Lara. And, it’s worked out rather well thus far. He’s never once complained, though you know his situation isn’t always easy on him.

“I understand that completely,” you admit, feeling drawn to empathise with him and his love for the place you also chose to stay in. “But I’m curious – what was the dream job that kept you here?”

He huffs a laugh, gingerly sipping the last of his iced latte. “It’s kind of funny,” he says. “I really didn’t need to stay for the job I have. It’s a remote job, I could've worked it from anywhere. Kind of the irony of it. But I’m glad I stayed here. I prefer it to the big city life.” Taking one more long swig of his drink, he finishes it off and tosses it in the trash behind him. “I write for a living. Freelance, mostly. I publish editorials and such for a pretty small publication you’ve probably never even heard of. It’s a pretty decent gig, though. Flexible enough.”

A freelance writer, for a small publication…surely not. It’s a coincidence, no doubt. But there’s no way it’s more than that. Still, a curious mind tends to wonder. “Where are your works published? It’s funny, I’m actually an editor for a pretty niche publication.”

“It’s called The Lantern. And yeah,” he pauses, chuckling to himself. “I’d say mine is pretty niche, too. Not too popular, but I kinda like that about it.”

Well. That certainly abolishes that whole coincidence theory you convinced yourself of.

“You write for The Lantern?”

“You actually know it?” He asks, astonished.

“I’d sure hope I do, given I’m one of the editors.”

The way his bright-blues widen at your reveal is almost comical, and it certainly makes you crack a smile in response. “No kidding? Man, when they say the world is small, they aren’t bullshitting,” he says, subtly shaking his head in disbelief.

“Do you use a pseudonym?” You ask. “Because I’m sure I would’ve come across one of your pieces by now.”

“I do, actually.” He runs a hand through his quaffed ‘do once more, managing to keep it as perfectly styled as it was when he first approached you. “And I’ll tell you, but you should know that once I do, you’ll be the only one who knows my little secret.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to hold it sacred,” you say, cheeks flushing yet again.

He then leans closer to you, motioning for you to meet him halfway. His fingers barely brush the skin of your cheek when he cups his hand over his mouth near your ear. “ “

You’re taken aback at his secret, shocked to discover who he is. You certainly know his work, but not for any good reasons. His grammar is always subpar at best. He hardly punctuates correctly, if at all sometimes. Lara writes better than him, and she can’t even form complete sentences yet.

“That’s you?” You say with fake excitement, hoping to god that your expression doesn't mimic your true feelings about it. “I’ve read your work plenty of times. I-it’s great!”

Even you weren’t convinced by that. But, it seems he is. And that’s all that really matters at the moment. His growing smile would be an indication of that, and even though this man is one of the worst writers you’ve come across during your time working for The Lantern, you can’t help but be drawn to his charm.

“Listen I–I know this is probably way too soon, but I feel like I need more than just a few minutes in a coffee shop to catch up with you.” “If you’re free tomorrow night, we could continue this conversation over dinner. Only if you’re okay with that, of course.”

There it is.

You’d figured it was coming, but you’d also hoped it wouldn’t get to that point. And it’s not because of him, your reservations over dating are hard to push through. Hard enough that you’ve not gone out with anyone once since Jake.

If you agree to this, Cole will be your first date in years. More years than you care to count at the moment. Something about it feels wrong, but you’re wondering if it only feels wrong because you want it to.

You’ve suddenly come to the realization that dating may never feel right, because you haven’t let it. But, you know you can’t live the rest of your life like this. If Jake can move on, go on as many dates as he wants without a second thought, well, you can do the same.

“Dinner sounds wonderful,” you say, feeling your heart race in your chest as you agree to something you honestly never thought you’d agree to ever again. And, to your utter surprise, you’re actually excited for it. Something you weren’t prepared to ever feel again over the prospect of dating. “It sounds really wonderful, actually.”

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Right at the top of the hour, you hear Jake’s Buick rumbling in the driveway. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Everything you needed to do today is done, and just as you’ve finished hanging up the last load of laundry, Jake’s made it back with Lara.

You open the front door before he even has a chance to get her unbuckled from her seat, hearing her gleefully yell for you when she catches sight of you walking toward the Buick.

“Hi, sweet girl!” You say to her, to which she says hi right back, waving her tiny hand as Jake removes the last buckle. “Did you have fun today?”

“She sure did,” Jake giggles, handing you a giant plastic bag full of sea creature toys. “She used me for all I’m worth in the form of stuffed animals.”

“I’d say so,” you chuckle as you note the sheer weight of this thing.

He helps her down from the car and she instantly attaches herself to you, giving your legs as big a hug as she can.

“I better get goin’,” he tells you as he shuts the back door, leaning down for one more hug and kiss from Lara. “Better give all of those guys names,” He says, pointing to the full bag of new stuffies he bought for her. “I’m counting on some good ones, okay?”

She agrees to that as she tells him goodbye, hugging him tight around his neck.

He offers you a farewell as he begins to walk to the driver's side door, but before he makes it all the way inside, you pick Lara up and follow him around the car. “Hey, Jake?”

He hums as he turns to face you, holding the car door open. “What’s up?”

“Are you doing anything tomorrow night? I mean, are you working or anything? I may need you to sit with Lara for a few hours.”

He pauses in thought for a moment, shaking his head as a smile begins to form on his lips. “No, I don’t have anything going on. Why? Got a hot date?” He laughs, throwing you a sly wink.

You know he’s joking, but his question still sent lightening bolts through your body when he said it. And the fact that your answer to it is most certainly not what he’s expecting is working to sharpen your nerves all the more. “Actually, yeah. I have a date tomorrow, yes.”

The look on Jake’s face is one you’re not so familiar with. You can’t read it, but what you do know is he was caught off guard at your confession. He’s silent for more than a few seconds, longer than you would like. But after taking a moment to register, his grin begins to form once more. “No problem, I’ll come sit with her. Just give me a time and I’ll be here.”

You thank him as you begin to walk toward the house, Lara held snugly against your hip. You hear the car door shut, assuming he’s inside of it and reading himself to leave.

But when you don’t hear the engine start, and when you do hear the clicking of his boots against the pavement, you realize he’s walking in your direction.

“So who was able to finally get you to agree to a date?” He says as you turn on your heel to face him, adjusting Lara in your arms as she’s beginning to doze off, her head laying gently against your shoulder. “Do I know ‘em?”

As a matter of fact –

“Y-yeah, I guess you used to know him.”

You shouldn’t be anxious to tell him who it was. You know that. But, the fact that he wasn’t Cole’s biggest fan back in the day has you hesitant to tell him. Especially given his apparent crush on you that had Jake on edge more than once during that time.

Still yet, part of you feels he has the right to know. Why? You can’t be sure. But you’re also not too keen on keeping things from him.

He’s looking at you softly, inquisitively. You can’t be sure, but if you had to guess, you’d say he’s holding his breath at the suspense over the name that’s about to leave your lips.

“Do you remember Cole? From high school?”

That look he gave you when you confirmed his date theory is back. Only this time, it’s here to stay. There’s no smile following the dropping of his features, the confused curve of his dark brows. “Wait – Robinson? You’re going on a date with Cole Robinson?” He asks, pure shock laced in his question.

When you timidly nod your head to corroborate his suspicion, he grins again. But this grin is more of a mocking one, something you certainly didn’t expect.

“You’re going out with that airhead? Geez,” he huffs, giggling more to himself than anything. “I told you that numbnuts always had the hots for you. I thought he got married to Olivia – did that fall apart, too?”

The way he said it, did that fall apart, too? – it felt more like he was insinuating that that was what happened to the two of you as well. It felt more like he was asking, “were they destined to the same terrible fate as you and I?”

It hurt to hear him say that, for whatever reason that you can’t quite pinpoint at the moment. You know he didn’t mean it the way you’re taking it. That’s your problem, not his.

Regardless, he is correct in his assumption.

“They split a while ago. She wanted to live the big city life, and he just didn’t have the same desire to do so.”

A cock of his eyebrow tells you he caught on to the same parallels you did when you had that conversation with Cole. He sighs as he rubs his lower chin, then adjusts his black Ray-Bans before tucking the same hand in the pocket of his linen khakis. “What’s mister Cole up to these days, anyway?”

You ignore the slight sneer in the way he enunciates Cole’s name, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Well, funny enough, he’s a writer for The Lantern. He writes anonymously.”

“Oh, a writer,” he says, his smirk softening some. “I guess that works out pretty well, then. What are the odds, huh?”

His tone sounds more sincere than before. Sincere enough, at least. “Yeah, I thought so too,” you agree, matching his smile as best you can. For a moment, you wonder if you’re truly making the right choice in going on this date. His reaction certainly forces you to question it, but ultimately, the decision feels like the right one. Even if nothing comes from it, at least you can say you tried.

Tried to put yourself out there, tried to give someone else a shot at winning your heart, tried moving on from Jake.

“Like I said, just let me know what time I need to be here. I’ll see you then, okay?”

With that, he nods his head and walks back toward his Buick, leaving you with a thousand different emotions circling your brain all at once. A mix of guilt and excitement being the most prominent, the ones that, on their own, are overwhelming enough. But when they work together, it’s a conundrum that leaves a far more intense feeling in the wake.

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Jake will be here any second to stay with Lara, and you tried to be ready before then. But after spending the last hour trying on outfits, and still having no clue what to wear, your hope of being ready by that time is dwindling further and further.

Precious as little Lara is, she’s been particularly in need of your attention this afternoon. Having to stop what you’re doing every few minutes to give that to her hasn’t helped in getting yourself ready by a certain time.

And as if you’re not petrified enough over the date itself, the thought of seeing Jake before and after said date has your head in quite the tizzy.

So, the combination of that mixed with the sweet toddler that needs you right now is enough to make you want to back out of this whole thing completely. That, along with the fact that you’re a bit put off by a recent text you received from Cole.

The initial plan was that he’d come pick you up, but he has since asked for you to meet him at the restaurant.

Your feminist view doesn’t mind driving yourself at all. You’ve never needed to rely on a man for things as silly as transportation.

But, being this is your first date in god knows how long – well, it’d be nice to receive the full treatment.

Alas, you won’t raise a fuss over it. Perhaps it’s a good thing to have a getaway car in case the evening turns to utter shit. A terrible way to view it, of course. But you’re cynical to your core.

After breaking a sweat over trying on your fifth outfit of the evening, you decide to hell with it. The fifth and final ensemble will have to do. You don’t have the energy to keep doing this, and time continues to work against you. If you want to be able to leave as soon as Jake gets here, which will be in a matter of minutes, this look wins the trophy.

Though, it is a tad revealing. A little more risque than any outfit you’ve put on your body since giving birth. It’s probably nothing to someone who hasn’t had a baby in the last few years, but for you, it’s a bit of a bold choice.

Being a mom, it feels a little strange to be wearing the cropped knitted, dark emerald sweater and a black suede mini skirt. An outfit you’re pretty sure you’ve owned since high school. You’ve certainly earned a few more curves since then, but the pieces surprisingly fit pretty well, especially considering it’s been about seven years since you last wore them.

You certainly don’t remember your boobs filling out the sweater nearly as much then, or your ass stretching the suede fabric the way it does now. But, as you’ve reminded yourself of at least a hundred times since yesterday, this is your first date in years. There’s no harm in looking a little sexier than normal. Just because you’re a mom doesn’t mean you can’t show off a little. This body of yours went through hell. It’s okay to put a little pride in it.

You do, however, want to throw on a pair of black pantyhose underneath the skirt. Mostly for some extra warmth, as it’s more than a few degrees below freezing outside. Though you’re no stranger to the frigid Wyoming winters, it’s probably best to add a few more layers.

So, after wiggling yourself into those, putting on some black heeled ankle boots, the outfit is about as good as it’ll get. And, looking at every angle possible in the bathroom mirror as you finish up your makeup, you’re actually really happy with the way you look. The first full face of makeup you’ve worn in quite a while, and freshly washed and styled hair in lieu of the frizzy mane you typically sport.

Even little Lara approves, telling you that you look like a ‘Disney Princess’ in her sweet voice. You’re certainly no princess, but you’ll accept the compliment, no less. Afterall, they say kids her age are always honest. They don’t know how to lie just yet. So, maybe there’s a little truth to her statement.

Or, she just loves her mom enough to equate her to such beauty. And that alone is enough to boost the remaining bits of confidence you need to make the final move of getting yourself out of the house.

As you add one more coat of hairspray to ensure these curling iron waves stay put, you hear a knocking at the front door, followed by quick footsteps in that direction and ‘daddys here!’ at an ear-piercing decibel.

And suddenly, the nerves are back in full force, sitting sharply in your chest and the pit of your tummy. There’s no question as to why. Jake will always make you at least a little nervous every time you see him, but tonight's events are only serving to heighten it even more.

Yet again, you find yourself begging the question; why does he still have this effect on you?

You haven’t made it out of the bathroom yet to let him in, but Lara, with all of her tiny might, has somehow managed to unlock the door. (Something she’s not been able to do until tonight.)

“Oh! I didn’t expect you behind the door, little one!” Jake’s voice sounds just as shocked as you feel. So, finishing up on your lips and smoothing down a few unruly baby hairs, you shut off the light to leave the bathroom as he asks her a question. “Have we officially learned how to unlock the door?”

Just as you’re rounding the corner, you hear a giggle from Lara as you watch Jake pick her up and toss her in the air a few times. He’s over and over calling her a “little Einstein” as your brain tumbles over itself. It’s chaos inside your mind as you contemplate your date, being around Jake while dressed like this, and the fact that your toddler apparently knows how to unlock and open a damned door, now.

Comforting. And now another reason to keep your eyes on her at all times.

“This ability of hers is new to me as well, you must know,” you say as you round the corner from the hallway and into the living room, putting a pair of golden hoops in your ears that you grabbed from the bedroom earlier.

But he doesn’t look at you right away, his attention still on Laramie. You take advantage of his distraction, able to take in his appearance. He steals your breath on sight. And for some reason, seeing how incredible he looks (as he always does), makes you feel even more nervous about your own revealing attire.

He’s wearing his go-to. A button down, opened all the way to the top of his belly button and a pair of linen pants. No matter how many times you see him in a variation of the same outfit, you will forever be taken aback by his beauty, those movie star looks you’ve always loved.

And the golden tan he’s sporting from his travels is no good for you and your overly present jitters.

To avoid your heart tripping over itself at your ex husband, you turn to the counter to grab your normal, smaller shoulder bag. It’s a Mary Poppins bag of sorts as it somehow still fits an extra outfit for Lara and a travel set of emergency wipes. You take the outfit and wipes out to make space for your lipstick, a mini body spray, and a tube of mascara. It hurts a bit to take out the little pieces of your baby girl. You haven’t had to do so once since she’s been here and you don’t like doing it now. And doing so is causing your mind to swirl even more with the thought of bringing another man home and how you would explain that to her. Not that you’re already planning a future with Cole, but the future scenario is running rampant through your thoughts. She is, afterall, the center of your world. Every decision you make for you also affects her.

Don’t cancel the date, y/n. You’re getting too far ahead of yourself. Just go for it. See what happens. You owe it to yourself. God knows Jake has done it plenty.

You sigh, the inner encouragement just enough to help you (semi-grimly) clasp your bag shut and grab your keys from the hook by the door. With a press of the automatic start, you look out the window beside the door to make sure your car has started.

When the lights flash on, you open your bag once more to tuck the keys inside. At that, you decide it’s time to face what your night entails and that means saying goodbye to your babygirl. You really don’t want to — which is why you’re dragging your feet — but you have to. If you intend to put yourself out there like this, you have to get out of your house.

With a spin of your heel, you turn to see Jake, knelt on the ground, eye-level with your little girl. So, following his lead, you kneel down to your sweet Lara and hold your arms out for her. She immediately comes barreling towards you and you tuck your face into her strawberry-scented curls. Her hair is still slightly damp from bath time an hour or so ago. And, once you feel her arms loosen and fall from around her neck, you pull back to run your fingers through the thin strands.

The same exact texture as Jake’s when it's wet. Just one more of the endless list of things you love about her.

Your smile is genuine for her, but you also feel this need to put on a sort of facade for Jake. It’s strange, but it feels necessary given these slightly odd circumstances.

You’re truly dreading tonight. A feeling you’re trying really hard to not leave the house with. Your whole world is in this house. And you’re about to leave her – leave them – to meet with a guy who couldn’t even be gentlemanly enough to pick you up. But you’re doing everything you can to go into this with an open mind, a willingness to give it a try despite the seemingly never ending signs that you maybe shouldn’t be doing this.

Lara steals your attention when her soft, chubby little hands grab your cheeks. And, very seriously, she looks into your eyes with hers that are the very same shape as her father’s.

After a few moments of looking into your eyes with a sincerity that most toddlers don’t have, she tells you, “So beautiful, mommy.” Her eyes are still locked with yours as she smiles ear to ear, her button nose scrunched up.

You blink back tears, your smile shaky and lips quivering as you reach forward to tuck some hair behind her tiny ear. “Well, thank you, baby girl.” But, you can’t help but wonder…you’ve never heard her say beautiful before. That’s a big word. Too big for her to use so confidently without having used it ever before. With you, at least.

You lean forward and give her a kiss. Your knees are starting to hurt, still in a squatting position, but Jake is still squatting, too. The moment is too sweet to give it up just yet. This is more important to you than being a little late to meet Cole. He can wait. This can’t.

Taking advantage of being at her height, you ask Lara with a raised brow and gentle smile. “And where did you learn the word beautiful, my love?”

“Daddy says it all the time,” she excitedly explains, her focus shifting to her hand coming to mess with a necklace you’d put on. Toying with it carefully between her fingers, as she often does when you wear it.

A little mountain range engraved on the front of the silver pendant.

Jake had actually bought it for you, giving it to you the day you’d brought her into this world. The mountains were meant to resemble one specific range, the name of which, etched on the back of the pendant.

Laramie

You’d asked him, then, if he’d bought it that way. The range, one you would recognize anywhere. But he’d clarified that he’d special ordered it. A picture of the mountains he’d taken himself on the day you said your vows, the very way their peeks touched the horizon printed on the sterling silver. He sent in the photo to be materialized on the sterling for you to wear around your neck.

After he’d said it, you’d felt silly for asking. The picture was one you’d loved so much that you’d printed it huge to hang above your couch. You’d gasped at the details of the image, the closer you eyed the small piece of silver.

“And I took it to a local jeweler to have her name put on the back,” he’d explained, as you handed him the necklace, asking him to help you put it on. As he clasped the dainty chain around your neck, he’d finished his explanation. “I want you to have a piece of her with you, everywhere you go.”

“And a piece of you,” you’d added, tearfully, patting the silver that laid perfectly against your chest. The moment, so serene, as your newborn baby slept in a bassinet at your bedside.

Yes, you’d absolutely decided to wear it tonight. You need the extra comfort the necklace brings as you throw yourself out into the world in a way you have put off for far too long. A world that is altogether separate from the two you’re next to right now. Yet another reason for your hesitancy in taking this leap.

This date…it feels as though it’s closing the door on your life with Jake for good. The divorce was finalized a few years ago, but something about going on this date tonight makes it feel more official somehow. It’s a forceful closure for you. Feels that way, at least.

So, the necklace will be good company for you tonight. Something familiar to you as you dive headfirst into something you’re not so familiar (or comfortable) with.

The subtle buzzing of your phone inside your bag, more than likely a text from Cole, lulls you from the melancholic, yet peaceful memory. A reminder that you do have somewhere you need to be, and you’re already late enough as it is. Not that he’s more important than what’s happening right now with little Lara. And with Jake, who’s been quietly observing this whole time.

Leaving her (and him) feels harder than ever. But this has to be done. If for nothing else, for you.

“Mommy will see you soon, baby girl. Be good for daddy, okay?” You say, just as Jake stands from his squatted position. Sealing your request with one more kiss to her nose, you decide to follow his lead. You know that if you don’t end this now, you never will.

The ache in your knees has you lifting yourself a little slower than you’d like, groaning at the stiffness in your joints. A lovely gift that pregnancy left you. Having the body of a grandma while still in your twenties has been a humbling experience, to say the least.

Jake must sense your struggles as he quietly offers a hand to help. You don’t look up at him as you take him up on his offer, setting your hand in his, wrapping your fingers around it to ensure a good enough grip.

Once steady enough, you pull yourself up with ease, feeling the pain in your knees instantly subside as you place your weight in his hand.

“Thanks,” you sigh as you stand, adjusting your bag over your shoulder, doing everything you can to avoid making eye contact with him. You’ve suddenly realized how close he is to you, only inches away as he’s standing stock-still in front of you. Out of instinct, you back away a step, afraid you’ll make him uncomfortable by being so close to you.

But once you do, you make the mistake of looking at him, finding that his eyes are fixed on you. His eyes, following a slow path down your body, then back up to meet yours. His mouth is parted slightly, his thumb and index finger rubbing his chin as his teeth nibble at his bottom lip.

It’s silent. Dreadfully silent as you’re looking at one another. The air between you feels like a ton of bricks, thick and heavy.

You don’t know what to say to break it, and he clearly doesn’t, either. The moment stays silent for even longer, and all you want is to know what he is thinking that’s keeping him this quiet.

The way you could always tell what he was thinking was by looking into his eyes. His eyes have always said what he was thinking before his thoughts made it to his lips. But you find that you can’t read them anymore. Not like you used to, at least.

But from what you can tell – he’s deep in thought.

While neither of you can manage to speak a single word to each other, Lara provides a relieving end to the silence by telling Jake that she’s hungry.

Clearing his throat and blinking his eyes a few times, he looks down to her as she’s now tugging at the hem of his shirt to get his attention. “I’ll make us dinner, little one. Just as soon as mommy leaves.”

With that statement, he looks to you again, clearing his throat once more as he runs a hand through his hair. “You, um – you look nice.” Lara, still tugging away at his clothes, shouts ‘beautiful, daddy, beautiful!’ until her lungs run out of breath. He looks down at her, smiling, his cheeks flushing. “You better get going, y/n. Can’t leave the guy waiting too long.” He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, only looking at Lara.

Nice. You look nice.

Even Lara gave you a more sincere compliment. She even tried to correct him, to which he just smiled and basically told you to leave.

With one more quick goodbye, you grab your coat from the rack and head out the door, feeling foolish as you do.

You feel foolish because, subconsciously, part of you hoped Jake would take one look at you and tell you not to go. Beg you not to go.

But that didn’t happen. And it’s ridiculous of you to even think that it could.

He’s over you. He’s been over you. That’s a fact you need to accept. Stop holding on to the past that he is certainly not holding on to.

Despite the overwhelming sense of dread, you know that tonight needs to happen.

It’s time to move on. For good.

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Another reason you were put off by this date is the fact that Cole chose the place without worrying to gather your input. Granted, you could’ve just given him your unsolicited opinion, but the urge wasn’t strong enough to risk any awkward tension that could arise from such a thing.

So, you’ll settle for one of your least favorite eateries in town – a bar and restaurant combo called The Main Street Tavern.

Cole must be a bit trapped in his younger days, because this place was quite the popular joint when you were teenagers. You haven’t been here in years, and sitting in your car in front of the tired building is bringing back some memories you’re not too keen on being reminded of.

He’s just sent you a text telling you where he’s seated, and with the confirmation that he’s here, you take a deep breath, reaching for your necklace for comfort as you pull yourself away from your car. Upon walking in, the smell of bitter booze and greasy food hits you like a train the instant you step through the door. The smell of the booze in particular reminds you of the days when you hadn’t learned your drinking limit. An uncomfortable wave of nausea suddenly overwhelms you at the thought, but breathing through it, you locate Cole sitting in a booth to the left of the bartop.

He’s waving your way, making sure you can see where he’s at. Oh, you can see him, alright. Though his image is a bit foggy from the billows of smoke coming from the party of four sitting at the table next to him, each one of them puffing a cigarette.

How romantic.

“Hey!” He says as you approach him, fighting with yourself to make sure you’re wearing a smile. Fake or not. “Remember this old place? I just can’t resist the good ol’ nostalgia of it. Brings you right back, doesn’t it?”

You’re starting to get the impression that Cole probably hit his peak in high school. And for some reason, given everything that you knew about him then, that doesn’t entirely surprise you. As you sit yourself on the plastic covered seat across from him, you’re becoming aware that you are not looking at the same Cole you saw at the coffee shop yesterday.

Yeah, he’s handsome. Outwardly, at least. Chiseled jaw and all. But there’s something different about his eyes tonight. They seemed…kind yesterday. But right now, there’s something strange about them.

Perhaps it’s the alcohol he’s already ingested, as evidenced by the three bent cans of beer sitting in front of him.

How long has he been here?

“You look awesome,” he says, staring directly at your chest as he does so. “Like I said, you haven't changed a bit.”

I definitely have. But you? Not so much, apparently.

“Uh, thanks,” you respond, finding it hard to mask your unimpressed tone. Suddenly feeling like you need to bolt, you keep yourself where you are by rubbing your thumb over the engraved mountains on your necklace, using it to help you find the courage to open the sticky menu in front of you.

Don’t give up, you think. Just see this through so you can say you did it.

“Yeah, I haven’t been here in ages. I think I was a senior the last time I came here,” you say as you skim through the menu items, unable to find anything that remotely sounds appetizing. You didn’t even like this place as a kid. And as a woman in her twenties? Yeah, you’re still disgusted by even the thought of it.“Do you come here often?”

“It’s kind of my weekend joint. I just can’t get enough of this place.”

Shocker.

“Know what you’re getting?” He asks you as he’s flagging down the nearest waitress. Before you can say hell no, he’s giving the young girl his order. Not looking at the menu, either. He knows what he wants from memory.

She then looks to you, waiting with slightly annoyed eyes for your order. Not knowing what to get, you just say the first thing that comes to your mind. “Um, I’ll just have the chicken strip basket. With ranch, please. And a water to drink.” You smile at her and thank her as you hand her the menu, but she doesn’t even bother looking up from her notepad she’s jotting your order on.

With a quiet nod of her head, she takes the menu from you and begins to walk away, only to be stopped by Cole before she makes it to the kitchen. “I’ll take another can of Keystone. Actually, make that two more.” He looks at you with a wink, and you’re suddenly feeling that nauseous feeling creeping up once more.

Does he think that’s a turn on? Sure, you enjoy a glass of wine here and there. A margarita when you’re really treating yourself.

But five beers on a date, the first date, is a little more than insane.

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The food is taking forever to make it to your table. The last twenty or so minutes have been spent with him talking your ear off about whatever beer-induced bullshit he can come up with. And still, he can’t seem to keep his eyes off of your breasts.

It’s been miserable, to say the least. Because of this shitty restaurant that you’ve never enjoyed, because of Cole being the one you’re here with, and because you can’t stop thinking about the man that’s sitting at home right now with your daughter.

You and Jake were just kids when you started dating, but even as young as he was, he always made sure your dates were special. Even after you got engaged, and during the short duration of your marriage. Every outing was magical.

The fact that Jake is the only person you’ve ever dated certainly set the bar high for any future dates. So, it’s not all Cole’s fault that you’re having a terrible time. You have the standard set by Jake to thank for some of what you’re feeling.

But, Cole could’ve done better. He’s not even dressed nearly as nice as you are. That doesn’t really matter, but for a first date, it kind of feels like a bit more effort than usual should be exercised. More than just showing up in a hoodie and some jeans.

Finally, the food arrives just as Cole was in the middle of telling you about his brother that was almost drafted for the NFL. As of you give a fuck one about sports. But, he wouldn’t know that, seeing as he hasn’t given you an inch tonight.

The chicken tenders you ordered are placed in a red plastic basket, sitting on top of a piece of white, oil stained tissue paper. You’re not picky by any means, but this looks less than appetising. The sheer amount of grease alone would turn anyone off.

Well, anyone but Cole. He’s already digging into his triple burger that seems to be loaded with even more grease than your sad entre. And he’s loving it, apparently, based on the slew of noises he’s making as he takes bite after disgusting bite. Your appetite was waning the moment you walked inside this place, but it’s completely gone now.

The thought of taking even one bite of this food has you feeling you could gag. Sipping your water is the only thing keeping you from doing so, and even that tastes weird. How a place could be so horrible that the water is bad is beyond you. But at this point, you’re no longer shocked by it. You’ve just accepted it.

Shoving in the last mouthful of his burger, he washes it down with his fifth can of beer, finishing it off with his last bite of food. “Never misses,” he says, wiping the remnants of beer and ketchup from his mouth with the back of his hand.

You haven’t even touched your food, but he’s too drunk to even notice. And while he hasn’t noticed that, he’s certainly not shying away from giving you a look that says more than you really want it to. Grinning ear to ear, he tosses you another wink, to which you respond with a stone cold expression. No more faking it tonight. He doesn’t deserve even that.

The waitress comes back to gather his empty plate, asking you if you’re done with yours. You say yes, letting her take the basket and ridding yourself of the foul food once and for all. “This all on one check?” She asks, and without giving it any thought, Cole proceeds to tell her that it will be on separate checks.

Again, the feminist in you normally wouldn’t care to pick up your own tab. But after this shitfest of a date, the fact that you had to drive yourself, and pay for your meal (that you didn’t eat) does not sit comfortably with you.

The disgust should be quite evident on your face, though the alcohol he’s ingested is probably prohibiting him from being able to pick up on that cue.

He begins blabbing about some more bullshit when the waitress brings you your checks. You’ve got your credit card ready to hand to her as soon as she does, ready to pay and get the hell out of here and away from Cole.

As you’re waiting for her to bring back your card and receipt, Cole begins yet another spiel about where in town his place is, and how Olivia left behind a lot of her clothes and other things there when she left him. You’re so preoccupied with wanting to leave that you don’t fully register what he’s saying. But as you’re listening a little more intently, you hear him say the very thing that sets you off. “So you’ll have something to change into if you didn’t bring any extra clothes. That way you can be comfortable,” he says, slurring his words, smiling in a way that makes you want to slap it off his face.

And with that, your every effort to remain cordial has flown straight out of the window.

“Excuse me?” You say, the volume of your voice wiping that stupid grin off his lips. Good. “I don’t know how you thought your night was going to end, but I can promise you that mine will not end anywhere near your place.” His eyes, saggy from the effects of the alcohol, widen, his mouth falling open. And for the first time tonight, his open mouth isn’t spewing some utter bullshit that you don’t want to hear.

Right on cue, the waitress drops your card and receipt off with you. Throwing them mindlessly in your bag, you shoot up from your seat, draping your coat around your shoulders in one quick movement. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m ever going to willingly see you again after tonight. Jake was right about you.”

“W-what?” He exclaims, clumsily standing up and tripping over his own feet as he walks out from the booth. “Well damn, I guess I thought we would fu –.”

“You thought wrong!” You shout, interrupting him before he can even say the word. You then shove him out of your way as he starts moving closer to you, and as you're beginning to leave, a man with a manager's tag on his shirt approaches you, asking if you’re okay.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, calmly as you can. “But someone needs to call an Uber for him,” you continue, pointing towards Cole, who is staring at you with a confused, inebriated look. “Do not let him leave like this. He’s in no condition to drive and I do not feel comfortable taking him home.”

The manager appears rather frustrated, and he begins to tell you that this is a weekly occurrence with Cole. “We have to arrange a ride for him almost every time he comes in,” he says. “I think this will be the last time we let this happen. I’ve let him get away with this behavior for too long.”

Without giving Cole another glance, you walk yourself out to your car, bidding a final farewell to this place, to this night, for good.

↟ᨒ.⊹݁⚘⊹⚘⊹⚘ ⊹.ᨒ↟

The road ahead appears blurred in the wake of your tears. Traffic lights are heavy and intense, glowing intrusively bright. You just want to get home, yet the roads seem to stretch longer and longer the further you drive.

But, perhaps that’s a good thing. It’s best you let your emotions run their course before you get home to see Jake, the last person you want to see you like this. For all he knows, tonight was made of all your wildest dreams. And if that’s what he believes, you’re not going to do anything that would make him suspect otherwise. It’s fine to let yourself cry on the way home, getting it out of your system completely as you pull into the driveway of your home, sitting inside the vehicle for a few minutes longer to give the tears a chance to dry up.

Parking right next to Jake’s Buick certainly isn’t helping matters, but it’s somehow serving as a comfort all at once.

The first thing you notice as you walk inside is how clean the place is. Spotless. Utterly. From top to bottom. It smells like freshly cut roses and a homemade meal, probably something Jake whipped up in the kitchen while you were out.

But the second thing you notice, is the two of them are nowhere to be found. Though, you wouldn’t be surprised if Lara is tucked away in bed, given it’s nearly midnight. Hours beyond her bedtime. You’d hope she’s asleep, at least. Jake has been known to let her stay up late a time or two, letting her watch whatever Disney film her little heart desires and eat endless snacks.

That doesn’t appear to be the case tonight, as the house is silent, save for the creaking sounds it makes as it settles into the worn foundation overnight.

Kicking your boots off by the front door, your pantyhose clad feet quietly pad across the carpet toward the hallway that leads to her room. The door is closed, so you place your ear to the old wood, hearing the tiniest, faintest snores emitting from the other side.

That certainly confirms that she’s sound asleep in her bed, but that doesn’t answer your other question; where is Jake? Surely he’s not asleep in your room. And he’s not in the bathroom, as that door is wide open and sans Jake. The freshly cleaned kitchen was empty when you walked by it, so that truly leaves only one more possibility.

Gentle as you can, you turn the solid gold door knob clockwise, wincing when the door creaks as you slowly push it open. Her ceiling is covered in nighttime stars from her beloved galaxy projector, casting her room in a quiet glow.

And, as you somehow already knew, Jake is resting on a make-shift bed of Disney princess blankets and star shaped pillows, positioned almost the very same as your daughter. On his side, knees tucked practically to his chest, just like her. It’s always been a wonder to you how he’s able to sleep that way, folding his body in ways that would leave yours aching for days.

As Lara has grown, she's begun to sleep the very same. A trait you’re so happy that she picked up from him.

There’s an opened book sitting on the floor next to him – he was probably in the middle of reading it when she fell asleep, and decided to rest his own eyes as well. You begin to feel your heart both flutter and ache at the vision, adoring it yet altogether wishing it was always like this. Though you know better than to dream of such foolish things, it doesn’t stop you from yearning for it.

It’s beautiful. It’s how it should be. But, it just isn’t.

You’re certain he didn’t plan on sleeping here tonight, but you can’t find it in you to wake him. He looks so peaceful, so tranquil. There’s no sense in waking him up to leave. So, as carefully as you opened it, you close the door as you step back out to the hallway, letting the two of them stay just as they are.

And while they are able to sleep and rest their minds, you know that won’t be an easy feat for you tonight. Probably down right impossible, in truth.

Because you couldn’t eat at the restaurant, and now that you’re home and not in the presence of Cole, your empty stomach is begging you to put something in it. With sleep feeling ever so distant and nearly impossible to reach, your mind begins to focus on the meal Jake made that’s left the most tantalizing aroma in the house.

As you step into the kitchen, the smell is all the more inviting. And as you’re nearing the refrigerator, the scent begins to take on something more familiar to you. Something he’s made before, something he made often during your marriage.

A casserole dish, covered loosely in aluminum foil, sits on the middle shelf. You realize the bottom of it is still warm as you carefully pull it out. Not hot, just warm. As though it’s not been in there for too long. Before you remove its cover, you’re already certain you know just what it is. And if you’re correct, it’ll only cause your heart to ache even further.

The fresh tomatoes, the parmesan, pepperjack, and mozzarella cheese melted together, the smell of buttery garlic – it’s a dish you requested often in your marriage, especially when you were pregnant with Lara.

A cheese ravioli bake, but not just any cheese ravioli bake – Jake’s cheese ravioli bake. He concocted this very special recipe just to your liking, using the perfect blend of grated cheeses and tomatoes that had never seen the inside of a can. (Because, yes – they do taste better.)

The raviolis were always made from scratch, Jake’s signature touch that you loved so much. The special shapes of the noodles always made the meal taste at least ten times better than any other dish with raviolis, silly as it may sound. You’ve never been much of a meat-eater, so he never bothered with adding anything more than fresh herbs and cheese.

And, it’s baked in the same casserole dish he used to make it in. The white corningware with the little blue flowers on the sides, one that came from your grandma ages ago. It was always Jake’s favorite to cook with, so there’s no surprise he used it tonight.

As though your ex husband knew the inner workings of your brain tonight, it’s like he knew you’d need something comforting and familiar once you got home. Whether or not he truly did it for you, it just doesn’t matter at this moment. It’s here, and it’s enough to take your mind off of the shit evening you’ve had.

And while there is comfort in it, it does serve as a symbol for part of the reason tonight was so awful – you want this again. This food, Jake sleeping in the house again, his aura hovering around the place he once called home. The home that he shared with you.

Peeling back the foil leaves no surprise. The fact that you knew this meal from the aroma alone tells you more than you truly want to confront.

You’re far too hungry to bother with heating it back up. Jabbing your fork right in the center of the dish, grabbing the biggest glob of cheese you can fit on the silver prongs, you reach it up to your open mouth. It tastes the very same it always had, forcing your mind to linger on the days of your pregnancy when you craved this more than anything.

It feels strange to taste again, knowing that the last time these very distinct flavors sat on your tongue, you were still married to the man that made it.

It’s comfortably familiar, yet melancholic all at once. There’s a tinge of sadness mixed in with the ingredients, one that almost overpowers the rest.

You’ve become so lost in the food that you don’t hear the creaking door from down the hall, or the soft footsteps against the carpet, coming closer and closer to where you’re standing.

“How’d it go?” He whispers.

And where the sudden sound of his voice should have made you jump, all it does is make your shoulders relax. After the night you’ve had, you need this. Need familiarity in the form of the man you’ve always loved.

And that distinct, sleepy rasp in his hushed tone that you’ve heard more times than you can recall… It makes the quietest grin reach your lips.

It’s the way his voice would sound once he’d just woken up, or when he was too tired to speak in a normal tone. It was (and, apparently, still is) something that drove you mad with longing when you were together. After everything, hearing it still makes your tummy flutter, as much as you wish it didn’t.

“I’m sorry, I tried not to wake you up,” you whisper, worried that you’ll wake Lara if you speak any louder. Setting the fork in the sink, you turn his direction to see a vision you weren’t prepared to witness.

His shoulder is leaned up against the wall, and his drowsy, dark eyes are the first things that catch your attention. Your lingering eyes then notice his frizzy, untamed waves, sitting a few inches lower than they did when he was your husband. You’ve always loved his long hair, and him letting it grow even longer is even better.

He’s clad in only a worn white t-shirt with holes embellishing the stretched v-neck, and a pair of heather grey sweatpants, a specific look you grew quite fond of during your time together. He must have had the outfit packed in his bag he had with him, as this is not what he was wearing when you left earlier.

The waiting look about his features reminds you that he's just asked you a question, and it’s also reminding you that you’re taking an incredibly awkward amount of time to answer. The blood rushes to your cheeks once you realize that he’s caught on to your wandering eyes, scanning every detail of the man before you that you once thought you’d spend the rest of your life with.

The words you want to say are on the tip of your tongue, sitting, weighted, at the forefront of your brain. The desire to spill every horrible detail about the night, to tell him that you now know why he hated Cole so much in school is a burning one. You want to tell him every single thing. But what you want to say and what you should say are altogether quite different.

The true answer to his question is more than your lips are physically willing to say. So, a simple lie will have to do.

“It went pretty well,” you say, hopefully convincingly as you cover the food up once more with the metal wrapping. “I’d say a second date may be in the cards.” The words second date feel like fire against your tongue. The sound of them brings back that nauseated feeling you had sat with most of the night.

But your eyes are fixed on the task at hand of ensuring the dish is properly covered, knowing that eye contact with him will surely expose your dishonesty. The words themselves are hard enough to vocalize as is, feeling like you have to force yourself to give them the breath to be heard.

Eye contact or not, if anyone is going to know you well enough to recognize when you’re speaking untruths, huge untruths, it’s Jake.

As you’re placing the dish back in the fridge, you make the mistake of glancing at him, his mouth upturned in a knowing smirk.

There’s no more doubt that he can see past your facade, and the realist in you knows there’s no point in elaborating this lie any further. But you’re also not ready to let him in on how awful it truly was. You know how crazy it is to feel this way, but you’re embarrassed that it did go so poorly.

You were hopeful.

Hopeful that someone would be willing to love you again, hopeful of a future that doesn’t see you being alone. But most of all, you were ready to finally move past Jake.

There’s nothing you want more than to be able to, truthfully, tell him that the night was beautiful. That Cole was a perfect gentleman and treated you to the most lovely evening you’ve ever had.

The problem with that? It’s the furthest thing from the truth. The furthest possible thing. But even a lie as embellished as this is better than what the truth entails.

“What?” You say, leaning against the fridge, as he continues to look at you. His eyes scan your features, as though you’re completely transparent and he can see right through to your mind. But you decide to continue your useless story, no matter how well he can read you. “It went well, Jake.” The sternness in your voice makes him lift a brow, sighing as he crosses his arms over his chest, still grinning. “Cole was…he was a really good date.”

Yikes.

“He’s grown up a lot. He’s nothing like he was in high school, or whatever it was that made you hate him so much.”

Lie. Lie after lie after.

“You were wrong about him, Jake. And you’re still wrong about him. How would you know he hasn’t changed? You haven’t seen him in years.”

Now you’re getting ahead of yourself. And while you are ahead, you should probably stop. Based on the look he’s giving you, he isn’t buying a lick of it.

“Never said he hadn’t, y/n. Why are you so set on making sure I know he’s changed? I’m not the one going on a second date with him. I don’t care if he’s changed,” he insists with a shrug of his shoulders, shooting you a condescending look that, mixed with his sarcastic tone, is really beginning to piss you off.

Whether you’re truly mad at him or mad at the fact that you’ve basically been caught in your ridiculous fib, you can’t tell.

Either way, Jake is the source of your anger at the current moment. And after the events of tonight, you’re not in any place to put up with this attitude he’s shoving your way.

“Why are you acting like this, Jake?” You snap, voice still hushed, but growing a touch louder. You push away from the fridge, going to point a finger at him. “You were the one that called him an airhead earlier, and I’m just making sure you know that the man who treated your ex wife to a beautiful dinner is not an airhead anymore. People grow, Jake. People can change. Some people, anyway.”

His body visibly tenses at your words, and you’re plagued with a lot of guilt over them. Especially when considering the fact that he is undoubtedly correct in his assumptions about the man you went out with tonight.

Though, you’ve just stepped into shit you didn’t mean to. This isn’t where you wanted the night to go: you, blaming Jake for the man who’d treated you so poorly tonight. You spent all night comparing him to the man Jake was — is. But you’ve begun a rant that you can’t quit now.

And, he knows, as well as you, that you meant to allude to the fact that he is the one who hasn’t changed.

But, you also know that that isn’t true. Not at all.

“What is that supposed to mean, y/n?” He asks, moving through the doorway of the kitchen, coming to stand right in front of you. He smells of patchouli mixed with earthy cedar, a familiar scent reminiscent of a cologne you bought for him ages ago.

The both of you have managed to keep your voices at a low rumble this whole time to avoid waking Lara, but now that he’s standing so close to you, he no longer needs to speak above a whisper for you to be able to hear him. “Are you insinuating that I haven’t changed? Since when, y/n? Since high school? Since we were marri –.”

“I don’t know, Jake.” Your walls are breaking, crumbling. You’re fighting the tears that are welling in your eyes, trying to swallow them down before he notices.

“You don’t know what, y/n?” He replies, using two fingers to bring your chin up to look at him. Like he used to do all of the time. You can’t remember the last time he did so. Yet, no matter how he lifts your face, you don’t meet his eyes. Can’t. Your cowardly ways have set in. “I need you to be honest with me, y/n.”

“I just – I –.”

“I need you to be honest with me, Luna.”

Fuck. Not that nickname. Just like the chin raising, you can’t remember the last time he called you that. Marriage. A happier time in your marriage, at that, surely.

However, you’ll never forget how or when he came up with it. The first time he used it.

Your love for nature, something always held so closely and intimately between the two of you. When you were young kids, exploring the mountains from day to night, for days on end. Your summers, spent between mountains, where you’d spoken many things to each other. Shared many secrets. Created several sacred and sweet memories.

One of these treasured memories was of an evening in the summer before your Junior year of high school. Only sixteen years old, practically babies. That was the summer that things felt different between you and Jake. It was one of those nights you can clearly recollect, vividly see in your memories.

Stargazing with him, in a field of pink roses. This night, in particular, one of the reasons you’d wanted the influx of them littering the aisle at your wedding.

This evening is also one forever held in your heart for what he’d told you. Wise beyond his years, full of so many words — always. Something you’ll always love about him.

Laying in the field of roses in a hidden valley between mountain peaks, he’d spoken timeless words to you.

“You are like the moon, y/n. Y’know?”

You’d giggled, completely oblivious to where this was going. Your skin, still sunkissed and a little red from a full day of exploring in the mountains with your best and closest friend. The evening was winding down and you’d been near sleep when he’d whispered it into the night, his voice joining the crickets nightly songs.

“How am I like the moon?” You’d replied, turning a bit to look at him from the side of your eye. Though, he wasn’t looking at you. No, he was still gazing at the sky, watching as the sun made her final appearance for the day. Just beyond the highest peak of the mountains, the moon was rising, slow and steady.

But you’d only watched him as he’d studied the sky. His face had brought you a serene sense of comfort from a very young age for you. His smile, always a source of your peace.

“The moon… it’s so many things. It is so beautiful and it changes to show different phases on a never ending cycle,” he’d said, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he thought of his next words. “This cycle that we don’t really know the beginnings of, but we still trust it. Because we know, no matter what, that the moon will always be beautiful, no matter what phase it’s in. It will always change as it should. It’s trustworthy and fills the night sky with a light the sun could never.”

You’d only stared at him in awe. His mind, the most incredible place.

He’d continued, “It’s amazing how you can stare at the moon without its light blinding you. You can’t do that with the sun, it’s too painful to look at and admire. But not the moon. You can look at it for hours with no pain. Only beauty.”

He always had a way of making you think. Deeply think. His words always came together so beautifully to express what was on his mind, putting you in his mind right along with him.

“Wow, Jake,” you’d sighed, rolling to lay on your back to resemble him and stare at the sky. The moon had been full that night. A full moon, your favorite to adventure beneath with him. “I don’t know how your brain does that,” you’d breathed on a slight laugh, blinking your eyes slowly as your lids still felt heavy.

“Does what?” He’d chuckled along with the slightest snort. From your peripheral, you’d noticed him glance at you. But you kept your eyes trained on the black sky above, thinking about how it wasn’t painful to look at the moon. You stared at it, admiring it, just as he had said.

“Thinks of these things — it’s so deep,” you’d giggled, looking over at him to catch his eyes. But, he was back to watching the stars twinkle and the moon in its illustrious position over the mountains. Still, you focused on him with a glimmer in your eye. “You’re supposed to be thinking of Mrs. Thompson teaching us about the basics of moon phases last year — like I do when I look at the moon. Like all high schoolers who studied that should. But you’re thinking of that?”

“Well, I like to look deeper into things. You of all people should know this. And… when I find the deeper meaning of things, I always bring it back to you. I think it’s because we’re so close. I don’t know,” he’d replied, finally connecting eyes with you. Your tummy had done a weird flip thing it had just started doing when you were near Jake. It had been weird and new. You obviously hadn’t known it then, but it was the very beginning signs of a crush. “And I’ve been studying the phases for a while now, long before we took Mrs. Thompson’s class,” he paused, raising a brow at you with a smile. And, as the tummy thing was happening again, a blush made its way to your cheeks. “You know that, too, y/n.”

“Yes,” you’d answered with a few slow, measured blinks. No longer tired as he’d caught your attention, but you didn’t know what else to blame your slow thinking on. It must’ve been related to your sleepiness from before. You hadn’t known what else it could’ve been. “Just tired from the day, I guess…,” the words had trailed quietly from your mouth, his eyes, glowing from the moon's light, still holding yours.

And the way they were holding yours, making you feel nervous and jittery in brand new ways when it came to Jake. He’d been searching them, seeming to look for something you weren’t sure he’d be able to find.

You knew Jake’s expressions, new his eyes — through and through… but this had been new. This look. These eyes. There was something different in them, something in his soul that could only be fully reflected through them.

“H-how am I like the moon, though?” The words were an almost-whisper in the warm final winds of late summer, feeling them becoming cooler in preparation for the transition to fall. “You never said that part.”

It had taken a few moments, but he’d finally blinked a few times and seemed to come back to. His gaze had gone back to the sky. Yours had, once again, followed, desperate to see the moon the way he did.

“You’re always showing me new sides of you… your own phases. You’ve changed a lot over the last few years — I notice every little thing. I don’t know why,” he’d explained. “But no matter what… I know that I trust you. And I know that you will always be you, even in different phases.”

The blush had rushed up to your cheeks, once more, and you hadn’t dared look at him. “Thanks, Jake. I trust you always, too.”

“And…,” he’d cleared his throat, a nervous trait of his that you knew all too well. “I really think you’re so damn pretty, y/n… like the moon. But—,” he’d cleared his throat again. And, you would’ve looked to see if he was okay. But you were frozen — in shock. Hearing Jake call you pretty made your tummy flip yet again, and your heart flutter along with it.

Thankfully, you hadn’t needed to check on him, because he’d continued after a few solid and near-silent seconds of waiting. “The term moon doesn’t fit you. When people think of the moon, they think of the thing in the sky. But when I think of it, I think about all of the things that make the moon what it is. Just like I think of you. And that’s more than a simple thing in the sky. You are more than just a simple girl.”

Silence followed him. You hadn’t known what the heck to say. And you were afraid that anything you would try to say wouldn’t come out right.

“There’s a poem. Um, it’s called—called La Luna. It-it talks about the qualities of the moon and how they show in day-to-day life… and I loved it because it showed me… you are like my moon. I have you everyday and you’re trustworthy and you’re beautiful. Like the moon,” he’d said, matter of fact, with a sense of finality in his explanation.

But, he wasn’t finished. There was a shaky breath held in the space between the two of you and the trees. And when you turned to watch him this time, he’d already been watching you.

Propped on one arm, watching you, still. You followed his lead in leaning on your own elbow, a little grin on your face. It was just funny — you always seemed to follow him. And he, you.

In almost every way, you two did the same.

Even in certain silly actions. Little movements of your body that seemed correct because he was doing them. And if one of you did something, the other was doing it as well.

His eyes searched yours, so inquisitive. And there had been a gentle scrunch of his untamed brows. He’d looked as if he was wondering and searching your soul—for answers you still don’t know. Don’t have.

The next thing that left his lips, though, you had known the answer to without the shadow of a doubt. And as soon as he asked it, you realized you’d been waiting for those words the entire time.

“Can I – can I kiss you, y/n?”

The answer, “yes” had slid past your lips without you even knowing it was happening. You hadn’t ever felt this way towards Jake, yet— way back then. But… giving him a kiss — in that particular moment — had just felt oddly right. Like it was supposed to happen.

A puzzle piece, clicking into place.

It’d barely registered that it had happened because it had happened so fast.

He’d leaned over and you’d match him and went towards him just a touch. To meet him halfway.

And then, he’d touched his lips so briefly to yours before pulling away. Then, he’d helped you up as your tummy had still flipped and flopped. The blush that had been on your cheeks, reaching all the way up to the tips of your ears.

Your first kiss. You’d just had your first kiss. And with Jake. Your first and only best friend.

And that was why it was right. You were supposed to have your first kiss with him.

Your walk home had involved shared breaths and a few mindless notes about the day’s adventures. Your worn tennis shoes, making the treasured crunching sound against gravel roads. The sound, now one of your favorites, after how many times you’d heard it growing up, hiking all around, with Jake.

Then, right before you’d bid him goodnight as he dropped you off at your house that night, so long ago, he’d had one more thing to say.

“You are my Luna, y/n,” he’d told you, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes as he’d tucked his hands into the pockets of his Aztec printed shorts. “My moon and my best friend.”

“You’re mine, too, Jake,” you’d said, plain and easy.

After that night, things with you and Jake were never the same. And you were glad they weren’t. You didn’t know it then, but that night was the start of falling in love with him. The start of knowing, undoubtedly, that you would spend the rest of your life with him.

He was your first and only kiss. Your first and only of everything else that happened in the years that followed.

He was your best friend then and your best friend always. And just as he’d explained how the moon was to him and how you were for him — that would always be him, for you. Still to this day, your mind always wanders to that night when you see the moon. To Jake’s face as he asked you to kiss him for the first time.

And, because of all of this, that pet name has always been your breaking point.

Fuck.

Here it comes.

“Tonight was fucking terrible, Jake. He was such a prick and all he wanted was to fuck me and there was no way in hell I was going to let him do that.”

Those tears you tried to hold back are flooding your cheeks, turning into sobs that you’re desperately trying to keep quiet so they don’t wake Lara.

You fully expected Jake to hit you with an ‘I told you so,’ or laugh in your face over how pathetic you’re being.

But no. He doesn’t do either of those things. And you know Jake much better than to think he’d do that to you. That’s not the kind of person he is – he’s never been that kind of person. His heart is far too big to ever treat you that way, and you of all people should know that. It’s what made you fall in love with him in the first place.

So, no. He doesn’t do what your foolish mind had convinced you would happen. But what he does do is something you’ve dearly missed since the day he packed his things and moved out. Something you haven't felt in so long that you can’t really remember the last time it happened.

Without another word, he reaches his arms out, pulling you into him. And you let him. You feel your tense and tired body instantly melt into him, your head resting against his chest, into the spot you used to naturally nuzzle yourself into.

And just like that, every burden of the night has been lifted from your shoulders. You feel weightless in his arms again, being held in the safety of his embrace that, for most of your life, had been your place of refuge and solace.

He’s not hugging you, he’s holding you. Keeping you stable, warm. It feels as wonderful as it always had, like nothing has truly changed.

“I’m sorry, Luna,” he whispers into your hair, resting his chin on the top of your head. “You deserve better than him. You deserve a lot better.”

Hearing him say those words, that you deserve better…

You don’t know if you believe that. If you truly do deserve better, then you’d still be with the only man you’ve ever loved, the only man who has ever loved you.

The one holding you in his arms at this very moment.

There are a thousand things you want to say, that you want to scream. But in your heart of hearts, there’s only one thing you really want right now. Something that doesn’t require any words, any apologies or excuses for things that are tucked away in the past. Things that feel so distant that they don’t seem to matter anymore. Not right now, at least.

Everything that has happened tonight has made you wonder if the divorce really was the right option. There’s no doubt you needed a separation, but the reasons as to why the divorce came to be are suddenly fuzzy to you. And, as you so often have as of late, you wish it would’ve never happened in the first place.

All these things that you have felt so heavily recently, encompassing you fully as you’re held in his arms for the first time in so long.

Though you can feel the quick beating of his heart against your ear, you can’t be entirely sure what he’s thinking. You want to see his face, see his eyes. Find out whatever it is that’s going through his mind that caused him to embrace you this way.

Gently leaning away from him, he keeps his arms wrapped around you as you look up at him, into his eyes that once brought you so much peace. His eyes, that have always been his best way of communicating when his lips struggle to articulate what was on his heart.

And right now, what you see reflected in his golden brown irises, are the words that you feel sitting on the tip of your own tongue. He lifts his hand, using his thumb to wipe away a stray tear. You lean your face into his hand and lightly kiss the pad of the very same thumb, tasting the salty tear it dried from your face.

The intention in his face as he’s looking at you, holding your gaze with words unspoken, words from the last few years that neither one of you dared to utter. And still, as your eyes are holding his, words simply aren’t necessary to you.

Cradling your face in his hand, thumb caressing your cheek as his eyes flit from yours to your lips, he mutters something unintelligible, a whispering you can’t quite make out as his face leans closer and closer. And as you begin to ask him what he said, he’s leaning down and his lips slowly collide with yours. His soft, supple lips; they feel so very much how you remember, the only difference being the subtle beginnings of a mustache on his upper lip.

And the taste…the taste of Jake. A taste you’d never be able to replicate. It’s the one you’ve found yourself craving since the last time you relished in it.

The kiss lingers, lips making gentle movements, keeping their connection. You feel the weight of the last few years dissipate with the feeling of him. The feeling of his lips, a longing at last being met once again.

His arms hold you tighter, bringing you closer to him. His hand, steady and gentle, reaches up to the nape of your neck, fingers weaving through your hair.

Tears flood your closed eyes once more, trickling down your skin, wetting his as they fall. Once he feels them, he slowly pulls away, your lips reluctant to let him part. With his other hand, just as he did before, he dries the new tears. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done tha –.”

“Jake,” you whisper, stopping him before he can needlessly apologize. “What did you say earlier? Before you –.”

“I said that you are beautiful,” he sighs. “So beautiful.”

He searches your face, taking in every tiny detail of your features. His smile matches the one you’re wearing, and you swear you see the glint of a tear forming in his eye. “So, is that why Lara said the same thing earlier?” You ask, remembering her saying it nearly the same way he just did.

“She may have heard me say it a time or two,” he giggles, his hand that dried your tears reaching up to dab at his own wet eyes. “I always tell her how beautiful she is, and that it’s because she looks just like her mommy.”

It’s funny, because to you, she gets her beauty from Jake. You see him when you see her. But to know that he sees you when he looks at her…

“Can I kiss you, Jake?”

As though you needn’t truly ask, his lips quickly meet yours once more. Only this time, the kiss is deeper, full of so much more than it was before. The fingers still weaved in your hair carefully tug at your locks, dull nails scratching at your scalp. Your flesh tingles when his tongue pushes past your lips, his breathing becoming heavier as he becomes hungrier for you.

You push yourself into him as much as you can, lifting on your toes and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His strong, sturdy shoulders that feel even stronger than the last time you felt them.

And with this new position, he takes advantage of your strong hold on him, using one hand to lift you up, your legs now straddling his waist. His hand cups your ass, holding you still with pure ease as you kiss him harder than you ever have.

Each of you, moaning and sighing, lips roughly colliding.

Still holding you, he begins to walk backwards out of the kitchen, then carrying you down the hallway towards your bedroom. His lips never leaving yours until he makes it to your room, laying you down gently on the end of the mattress, your legs dangling from the edge.

You prop yourself up on your elbows while Jake hovers over you, his feet still planted on the floor. There’s a gleam in his eye that you’ve seen before, so long ago. His skin, smooth and glowing from the gentle moonlight creeping in through your windows. A vision you know all too well.

“That name,” you say, hushed. “You haven’t called me that in years. It – it was nice hearing you say it again. Really.”

His smile as he looks down at you, one you’ve seen hundreds of times before, takes you right back to the beginning. Back to so many cherished moments with him that seemed to become lost altogether when the fights had started.

He breathes a chuckle through his nose, looking out the window towards the moon's glow, following its trail back to you. Leaning down closer, he nudges your cheek with his nose, his hair tickling your skin as it falls over you. “You are my moon,” he whispers underneath your ear. “Always my moon. No matter what phase.” Tiny goosebumps begin pricking at your skin when his lips meet the skin under your ear.

Suddenly, he stops, lifting away from you and moving towards the door. You’re left confused, worried that you’ve let this go too far. “Jake?” You ask, to which he only responds with a smile as he quickly and quietly walks out of the room.

What the – ?

Sitting up, you start to stand up, feeling the need to go after him to figure out what is going on.

But before you even make it off the bed, he’s walking back in, carrying his tote bag on his shoulder.

“Lay back down,” he whispers, “Just like you were before.” Digging into his bag, he pulls out his Nikon before setting the leather satchel on the floor. “I am a photographer, so that means I naturally have an eye for beauty.” He turns his camera on as he walks toward you, adjusting a few of the settings. “You are a thing of pure beauty, and the moon is painting you perfectly with its light just where you are. I need to capture this.”

I should’ve known.

Your heart begins to pound in your chest, the thrumming filling your ears. How this man, after all this time, after everything, can still fluster you in this way is entirely beyond you.

Just as he requested, you lay yourself down once more, positioned just like you were before he left the room. Only now, you’re being a little more intentional about the way your body looks, lifting your sweater to show your midriff more than before and poking your ass out just a bit. He peaks his eye through the lens, bending just a little to get the perfect angle. “Ah, right there. Don’t move, Luna.”

The camera clicks once. Then again. He moves to the left a little, closer to the window, capturing a few from this angle as well.

This was a common thing for Jake to do way back when, as he began discovering his love for photography. You were his model, his muse, as he called you. There were several instances that you found yourself modeling for him, posing in front of dozens of new cameras to test their quality.

And, there were those few times that the photos were only for him. Only for his eyes to bear witness to. A few of those times were during your honeymoon, one of the nights being the one that Laramie was conceived.

While the photos he’s taking now are a little less risque in nature, the act is flustering you all the same. Just as it always did.

After having taken a few more, he looks through them, smiling while he does so. “Art, my Luna,” he says, shutting off his camera and placing it back in his bag. “You are art.”

You feel your heart racing again as he walks toward you again, placing himself in the same position he was in before he fetched his camera. You want to ask if you can see the photos, but once he begins kissing you again, wet lips connecting to the skin of your neck, the words just can’t make it out of your mouth.

His kisses move slowly down the column of your neck as your head carefully falls back, his lips gradually coming closer to your collarbone where he gently sucks the tight skin. Your breath, stolen from you the instant he does so. He motions for you to lay yourself down all the way, taking the weight from your elbows. He positions himself just right between your legs as you wrap them around his thighs. His lips then follow a path to your neck once more, breathy kisses making their way back to your lips.

His hands, ever so deliberate and purposeful, grab hold of your waist, lifting your back just a little from the bed. His fingers knead at the skin, squeezing gently before they fall to your hips. Just the same, he lifts them slowly, lifting your skirt up to your hip bones before reaching behind to hold your ass with both hands. The slight elevation of your hips places your core right against his dick, feeling it pulse beneath his grey sweats. Your body instinctively grinds into him at the contact, your walls beginning to flutter when you feel him following your lead.

“Jake…,” you mutter into his lips with what little breath you’re able to speak with. He doesn’t bother asking you what you need, what you want. He already knows. He’s always known. You’re certain there’s no man on this earth that could ever take care of you as well as him.

He knew your body – studied it. He knew every single way to ensure your pleasure, everywhere to touch and taste. How to do it.

And you, knowing the ways his body felt the best. He’d always tell you that you knew him better than he knew himself. And while that may have been true, you thought the very same of him. You’d spent so much time with each other, so much time learning each other.

He moves his hands from your ass to the hem of your sweater, moving his body down so that he’s eye level with your tummy. As he slowly lifts your top, gliding it up towards your breasts, he kisses each bit of skin as it becomes exposed. Kissing every inch of your tummy, until he reaches your bra. He stops there, removing your sweater completely from your body.

And once he’s done that, he places his attention back to your breasts, taking one in each hand. The white lace of your bra does nothing to cover your perked nipples, him rubbing his thumbs over them as he kisses where your cleavage meets in the middle. “I’ve missed these,” he mutters, breathy, pulling the cups of your bra down below each breast.

Your nipples perk even more once the cool air of your room hits them. But, it doesn’t last for too long. Jake’s mouth, wet and warm, wraps around the bud of your left breast, his tongue drawing slow circles. The right one becomes enclosed in the palm of his hand, squeezing the flesh with his fingers.

“God I’ve missed these,” he iterates, lifting his face from your breast, the tip of his tongue offering tiny licks where his mouth once was. He then brings his lips to the right breast, giving it the same attention as he sucks the bud into his warm mouth.

“Oh Jake – feels so good…,” you muster, shakily, lifting your arms to lay above your head. With his mouth still caressing your breast, his hands hold you just above your ribs on both sides, lifting you into him even more. His lips leave your nipple with one last, gentle suck, before he plants deep kisses down your sternum.

“Let me show you how much I’ve missed you,” he mumbles into your skin, lips kissing further and further down your tummy. Once he reaches the waistband of your skirt, he pulls you a little closer to the edge of the bed by your hips, sinking down to the floor on his knees.

His tongue glides over the skin of your inner thigh, still covered by your pantyhose. He does the same to the other one, alternating between both as he slowly comes closer to your burning heat. Your walls, fluttering, clenching. Your desire leaking from you with every move he makes on your body.

One thing you remember about Jake – he would always take his time with you. He would always take the time to please you, to cover each inch of you in kisses and sweet touches. Even if there wasn’t enough time for sex, he would still take whatever time there was for you.

And tonight, being no exception to his rule of pleasing you, has you all the more enticed by him.

And ready for him.

Just before his lips find your core, he takes your skirt, still bunched up at your hip, and pushes it up even further so that it’s now bunched at your waist. And after that, fingers from both of his hands slip inside the band of your pantyhose on either side, slowly pulling them and your thong down your hips. He moves back just a little, enough to be able to remove them from you, tossing both of the under garments on the floor beside him.

When he moves back, his lips find your inner thighs once more. With each kiss, your breaths become more and more labored, and as he kisses the skin directly next to your aching pussy, it becomes caught in your chest. He kisses once more there, and the breathy moan that leaves your lips is followed by a whispering of his name.

“I think I’ve missed this most of all.” You can feel the breath from his words against your wetness, making your body shiver and tremble.

And you absolutely believe him. It was his favorite thing, something he would do randomly, any chance he had, and every chance he had. He would worship your pussy, taste you for hours at a time. He would beg to have your pussy on his mouth. Not like he needed to, though. You loved it as much as he did.

The spontaneity of it, the way his mouth would find you when you were doing something as mundane as cooking, or watching a movie. You almost never took a bath or a shower without him joining you.

He says he missed it, but you’d bet you have missed it even more.

The second his skilled tongue glides through your folds, your body nearly jolts at the feeling. He hums at his first taste in years, digging into your hips with his fingernails. He takes his time, letting his tongue explore you again. Sucking your clit gently, just how you always liked. Babying it with his tongue, keeping the movements soft and careful. “You’ve always tasted so sweet,” he whispers before his tongue makes one long, slow stride from your entrance to your clit.

Each motion, so calculated, so thoughtful. He’s remembered every little thing that would get you there every single time. And the way his hair is tickling at your inner thighs, your lower tummy…

The sensation of it all nearly brings tears to your eyes. It’s the kind of pleasure that you could cry from. And it’s a pleasure you’ve gone so long without.

His tongue flicks against your throbbing clit, then again, and again. Each one pushes you closer and closer to the edge, and the closer you get, the faster his tongue gets.

And because of that, it only takes one more flick of his tongue to cause your pussy to throb, your walls clenching and spasming. Your tummy fluttering, your limbs feeling numb yet on fire all at once. Your release trickles and pools beneath you, all while Jake plants careful kisses to your pussy, kissing you through it until your breathing is back to normal.

This feeling…you had completely forgotten it. Forgotten how surreal it felt for Jake to bring your body to its peak, how truly out of body it always was.

If there’s ever a day that someone else enters your life and has you like this, they will be held to the highest standard that Jake has set for you. You know that no one will ever make you feel this way.

“Oh…my…god…,” you utter through deep breaths, the vision slowly coming back to your eyes. And as it does, you see Jake’s striking face leaning over you, his lips wet and glittering as the moonlight falls upon him, enhancing his beautiful features all the more. “Jake, I – I’ve missed you so fucking much,” you tell him, your voice becoming wet and choked with tears.

How did you ever let this man walk out of your life? How did things get so bad that signing divorce papers seemed like the best thing to do? You’ve spent practically every day of your life loving Jake Kiszka. From the moment you met as children, to taking his last name as your own, to having his daughter.

And even as your name inked the papers that would solidify your separation, you still loved him.

Every emotion begins to surface, and try as you might to hold them down, you just can’t. Your cries turn into near sobs, hands coming up to cover your eyes as you’re flooded with how badly you’ve missed him. How much you want things to be the way they were.

“Hey, hey,” he shushes you, concern present in his quiet voice. “What is it, Luna? Tell me what’s wrong.”

His fingers brush some hair out of your face, tucking the strands behind your ear. When you move your hands from your eyes, he kisses away the tears falling from them, holding your face in the palm of his hand. Looking into his eyes only serves to make it all hurt worse.

“I just miss you, Jake,” you manage to say after letting yourself calm down enough to speak. “And after that awful date tonight, it just reminded me of a lot of things and I –.”

“I miss you, y/n,” he sighs, holding your eyes with his in his very own Jake way. “I miss you more than you will ever comprehend.” As he kisses your lips, you feel your body begin to relax again, feeling comfort from him that you’ve always felt. “I haven’t stopped loving you. I will never stop loving you.”

“Jake,” you whisper as he kisses you again, and he hums in response, letting you know to continue. “I love you so much,” you admit against his lips.

He hums again, a gentle groan as he lifts himself up on the bed, keeping his lips locked with yours. You sit up, scooching yourself back and making room for him. As you do, you reach for your skirt that’s still sitting against your waist and pull it down, Jake helping you take it off the rest of the way.

Once it’s off, he lays himself between your spread legs, his clothed cock sitting flush against your core, pulsing beneath the fabric. You can’t stand it any longer, so you reach your hand down and begin pulling at the waistband of his sweats, sliding them down his hips as best you can from your position. He helps you with one hand, pulling them down the rest of the way and kicking them off with his feet.

You then go for his shirt, yanking it from his shoulders so hard that it rips the neck line halfway down the shirt. After that, he lifts up, taking the tattered remains of his t-shirt in each and ripping it in half completely, finally ridding himself of his shirt that’s now in pieces.

“Wait.” You stop him before he comes back to you as you catch sight of him, needing a moment to just look at him. The way the moonlight contours his body, how it’s casting a silver glow against his bare skin…he looks otherworldly. This vision is one you know will be permanently stamped in your memories for the rest of time.

You’ve always loved his body. His pecks, his tummy, his legs. His arms that have certainly gained more muscle tone since you were married. He’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. For more reasons than just the physical.

But as he’s on his knees before you, his tummy littered with droplets of sweat, his cock hard and throbbing, the unadulterated desire to feel him inside of you again is the only thing you can think about.

“C’mere,” you whisper, beckoning him with your finger. As he leans back down, your legs wrap around his waist again, positioning yourself just right as he lines himself up with you, nudging you with the tip of his cock. “I love you, Jake,” you say again, holding his face, kissing his lip. “And I need you.”

“My beautiful Luna,” he mutters as he steadily glides himself inside, slowly filling you. He lets out a deep sigh, his brows furrowed in the middle as he bites his lower lip. He pushes in all the way, his tip now nudging against your cervix.

As if it were possible, you’ve somehow forgotten how big he is. The thickness, the girth. No matter how often he was inside of you, you never got over the way he would stretch you, each and every time.

The tear-inducing pleasure begins to overwhelm you once more as he begins a slow thrust, filling you all the way each time. He remembers just how you liked it – giving you the chance to feel him, every thick inch of him. You had just always loved the way he felt inside of you, the way he fit you so incredibly.

Everything about the way he’d fuck you, how he’d treat your body as though it were ethereal and powerful. That he was privileged to be able to connect with you this way. Worshipping is the only way to describe it. He cared for you, put your needs above his.

He had always done that. Even when things began to crumble in your marriage. Even when he was angry, he never let your body go without being pleased. Never.

And when he saw what your body was capable of after you gave birth, he made certain that your body was cherished and loved the way it deserved.

After all this time, after years of being apart and living separate lives, he’s fucking you like you are still his wife. Slow in pace, deep and hard thrusts so you can feel him. His thighs slapping against the backs of yours. This was always his favorite way to fuck you, said he loved the way your breasts bounced everytime he thrust into you.

He loved watching you, and you loved watching him. His face, his body colliding with yours.

All of it, every bit of it is the same. Even better, if it were ever possible.

He lifts your leg, letting it rest over his shoulder. This angle, the one that allows him to hit the perfect spot inside of you, the spot that makes your tummy burn and your walls flutter. He knows the right angles, the ones that your body responds to the most.

And when your body responds this way, he fucking loves it.

“There it is,” he mutters, his breathing heavy and deep. “I feel you, Luna. Squeeze me, baby.”

His pace picks up, his cock hitting that spot over and over again. Faster, heavier, deeper. His name spills from your lips, your confessions of love coming out in staggered whispers.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he says, repeating it with every thrust. And he keeps saying it, says it until your walls clench hard around his cock, spasming deliciously as he fucks you through your second climax of the night.

And with it, his cock begins twitching and pulsing, his movements less calculated and more desperate. The sounds coming from his parted lips, the way his tummy is flexing, you know he’s reaching his own end.

Desperate as he is, he’s still careful. With one more hard thrust into you, he pulls himself out, pumping himself and spilling his warmth all over your tummy, reaching to the undersides of your breasts.

His face is contorted in the most beautiful vision. A mix of relief and adoration on his features as he looks up on you, your heaving body covered in sweat and him.

Though you know it’s absurd and irresponsible as hell, a small part of you is sad he didn’t finish inside. The two of you, turbulent as you were together, still made the most perfect baby.

The thought of giving Lara a sibling is one you’ve had for a long time now. But you don’t want that with anyone else. Only Jake.

The timing would be terrible. You know that. But you can’t help but mourn the thought. There’s no doubt in your mind that, if you were still married, you would’ve tried for another baby.

“Just like old times, yeah?” He utters as gently cleanses your skin with a damp towel he retrieved from the bathroom. He offers sweet and soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose. Telling you again how much he loves you, and you say it in return after each time.

As he finishes, he walks to the dresser, the one that once to held his own clothes. To no surprise, he remembers that you’ve always kept your underwear in the top middle drawer. He pulls out a pair that’s been a tried and true favorite of yours to wear at night. A simple pair of black boyshorts that he’s seen you in dozens of times.

He then reaches for the drawer directly underneath that one, pulling out one of your oversized t-shirts.

Before he walks them over to you, he puts his sweatpants back on, letting them hang low from his waist, just above his pubic bone. A sight for sore eyes, no doubt.

He hands your clothes to you as he gets back in bed, watching with a sleepy smile as you put them on.

Once you’re dressed, he pulls out the covers, letting you lay down first. You position yourself on your side, and, just as you wanted, he lays behind you, wrapping his arms around your body and nuzzling his nose in the back of your neck. The way you fell asleep every night for years. In the safety of his embrace, in the comfort of his touch.

↟ᨒ.⊹݁⚘⊹⚘⊹⚘ ⊹.ᨒ↟

Jake has long since fallen asleep, his arms still wrapped tightly around you. Something you’d forgotten about, that you’re being reminded of in this moment, is that even in his sleep, he will kiss the back of your neck every so often. Quiet kisses, more or less just placing his lips on you while he dreams.

Laying in his arms, the way you did all those years ago, everything feels perfect once again. It feels right. The pieces, though tattered and ripped apart over the years, have suddenly fallen back in place. You’ve missed this. Missed everything about it. His breathing, his peaceful snores.

This moment, right now as you’re curled up with the man who carries the title of your ex husband, it feels as though things could work. Maybe you could try again, learn the ways you’ve both grown, give this life with him a second chance.

Or.

Maybe this is it. This moment serves as a lapse in time, a beautiful walk down the path that holds so many memories. The best memories. But they’re only memories.

Those days, though dear to your heart, just don’t exist anymore. Your life, his life…what if your paths for the future are just too different? What if this moment, however perfect and wonderful it may be, will eventually turn into the reasons you couldn’t be together anymore?

Tonight made you feel as though everything with you and Jake ended for no reason, that your lives were perfect and seamless.

That’s not the reality of it, though. There were reasons that ultimately led to your divorce. A lot of reasons. Of course you forgot them on the night of your first date since the split, the date that will go down in history as being the worst of your lifetime.

But now, you’re thinking clearly enough to remember those reasons.

Your lives were far from perfect. The furthest from perfect as any two lives shared together could be.

But you loved each other more than anything and anyone. A love so deep, so profound and seemingly indestructible. There was a time when you would’ve never thought in your darkest dreams that there would come a day that Jake wasn’t a part of. Your love for each other simply surpassed every expectation, every phase. Just like the moon. Changing, but still beautiful.

But even a love such as that wasn’t enough then. So, what if it isn’t enough now?

You don’t know what the future holds. Beyond tonight, you can’t be sure what will come of any of this. And you don’t want to get your hopes up, fall for him even harder than before, all for it to crumble yet again.

And this time, you fear the pain would be much worse than before.

So, no. You don’t know what the future will bring. You don’t even know what tomorrow will bring.

And even if this moment is fleeting, it can still be added to the memories you have with him. To the perfect memories you’ve captured with Jake Kiszka.

Your moon.

The only man you’ve ever loved.

The only man you’ll ever want.

And the man you can’t have.

↟ᨒ.⊹݁⚘⊹⚘⊹⚘ ⊹.ᨒ↟

a/n: i'm sorry. lol. there could be a part two to this. there might be a part two to this. should there be a part two to this? sound off, loves!

as always, let me know what you think! i truly love hearing from you all. makes my heart so happy. 🥹 my inbox is always open!

taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed! i apologize dearly if i missed you)

@jakeyt @objectsinspvce @stayinginthesun @sinarainbows @klarxtr r @highway-tuna @way-to-go-lad @reesetrippingthelight @jakesgrapejuice @sacredjake @notthedroidz @psychedelicstardust-gvf @jjwasneverhere @gvf-ficreads @stardust-jake @gretavanbear @jaaakeeey @neptune2324 @jaketlove @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @audgeppp @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @gretasfallingsky @jazzyfigz @hippievanfleet @blacksoul-27 @sarafrusciante2 @heckingfrick @citylight-delight @electricgoldtendercare @musicspeaks @hollyco @gvfpal @dannys-dream @josh-iamyour-mama @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @hernameis-heaven @mackalah @gvfmarge @dancingcarbon @fleetingjake @scoreofinfantryvines @jamiemydeer @sacredthethreadgvf @fuckyoutommie

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fics #jake gvf

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astonmartinii · 1 year ago

Text

birthday masterlist <3

i don't know about you, but i'm feeling 22 !!

for my birthday i wanted to put together a mini masterlist of my favourite works xx

we don't play about halloween

max verstappen

max doesn’t play about three things: formula one, his cats and his girlfriend’s love for halloween

friendship bracelets

charles leclerc

charles' gf is beloved in the fandom for her love for frienship bracelets

cherry lip balm

oscar piastri

the verstappen siblings run motorsport, but the youngest's f1 allegiances may belong elsewhere

ultimate wing man

daniel ricciardo

y/n is notoriously single, and her dad decides to take it into his own hands.

big time rush

lando norris

so how is alex albon and sorority rush connected? how is lando involved? and will the grid ever understand the greek system?

nine lives

alex albon

one of the many albon pets has to take a quick trip to the vet and maybe, just maybe, it comes with love at first sight

tight knit

charles leclerc

spa 2021, where a knitting hobby comes in handy

into the arms of another

one / two / three / four

max verstappen

after charles leaves her out in the cold, y/n falls into the arms of another.

peas in a pod

oscar piastri

y/n and george russell may be twins, but they’re hardly two peas in a pod and oscar is just there for the ride

head in the clouds

lando norris

there's no one more attractive than the stranger at the same gate as you at the airport and sometimes that stranger works on your best friend's private jet.

signed up for life

lewis hamilton

f1 finally introduces a sign language interpretor to their media team

kiss it better

oscar piastri

when oscar crashes into the barrier at monza, he thinks he sees his guardian angel, in reality he's just got a concussion and that's a first responder, but it's the thought that counts.

you and me got a whole lotta history

charles leclerc

y/n is a historian and it’s not her fault her bf’s job takes him all around the world…

mamma mia

mamma mia / no more ace to play / honey, honey / age of no regret / a wonderful thing

sebastian vettel, jenson button & fernando alonso

what the hell is in the water in greece? why are pregnancy tests so expensive and why does seb name his vehicles like that?

also i am still working on requests, i have returned home and am just finishing my freelance work xx

buy me a ko-fi?

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janeyseymour · 7 months ago

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chosen family

summary: jacob hill has always been like something of a son to Melissa Schemmenti. You, Melissa's partner, make him realize that.

WC: ~3.3k

Melissa Schemmenti has always been drawn to people who could not be further from herself. It’s always been that way for her.

You are not the exception. You couldn’t be more different than the fiery redheaded teacher. Just like everyone else to work there that she is close with, you couldn’t be more different. You’ve picked up on this pattern. You’ve also picked up on other things concerning your new colleagues.

Barbara Howard is a perfect example of being entirely different from Melissa Schemmenti- her work wife, her platonic soulmate until the end of time. The first day, you were made very aware that Melissa Schemmenti and Barbara Howard were something of work wives and platonic soulmates. While yes, they both attend church every Sunday, the kindergarten teacher is much more devout. Barbara Howard is a rule follower, where Melissa bends the rules in ways nobody ever thought possible. While Barbara Howard is often steady and stable, Melissa Schemmenti could light someone’s car on fire over something as trivial as picking up the wrong pasta sauce on the way home.

Janine Teagues, someone who radiates sunshine and positivity, is somewhat of a daughter or a niece to the redhead. The same goes for Gregory- he’s like a son or nephew, in an odd way. You’ve learned that one thing to be aware of is that Janine is never stopping- she’s always going to the point of exhaustion and usually ends up creating a bigger mess than the one she was trying to clean up in the first place. You’ve learned that her and Gregory are dating; but apparently they’ve only officially been dating for a few months now. Before then, they’ve been the ‘will they, won’t they’ talk of the staff room.

Mr. Johnson has such a free spirit that it irritates Melissa at times. But they see eye to eye when it comes to important things in life- like how they would survive on a desert island or a zombie apocalypse. The two have a friendship that confuses both of them. He is there for fun, despite having a crucial part in the school.

Ava Coleman, at one point an enigma to the teacher, has a special spot in Melissa’s heart. At first, it was hatred. And then it was something of a kinship. Ava Coleman may not be conventional by any means, but it worked. Melissa found that she quite liked the zest and interesting takes that the principal held with her. It took time, but they found a rhythm, and that rhythm has since been perfected. Ava Coleman, much like the custodian, wants all fun and no work.

And that left Jacob Hill. Jacob hill, a soft and at times skittish gay man that Melissa couldn’t stand when he first was employed by the city of Philadelphia. But now? Now they’re like two peas in a pod. They’re quite the unconventional pair- a very soft and somewhat skittish gay man and a tough, mob-like redhead. But they seem to work. They seem to work far better than anyone had expected, including the two living together. And the last thing that you’ve come to understand about the young man is that Jacob Hill is something of a son to the fiery second grade teacher. When you first started working here, you actually did think that Jacob was her son- that was quickly laughed off by Janine and she told you the truth of the matter.

And since you’ve worked at Abbott, you’ve become quite close with the second grade teacher. You’re actually dating her now. It’s something that you’re still having a hard time grappling with. How could someone as beautiful and as… Melissa, as she is end up with someone like you?

But it seems to work out. The green eyed woman seems to be drawn to people who could not be further from her.

Jacob has quickly become a staple at the apartment that the two of you now share, him moving out a few months ago- it makes sense in all actuality. He and Melissa are quite close, and in turn the two of you are closer now as well.

You see how happy it makes your girlfriend to have the always grinning, and yet somehow still always subtly cynical, man around. You see it when she’s able to make him a plate of dinner, share lunch portions with him, when she’s able to give him advice (in teaching or other), when he’s settling on the couch with the two of you to watch what they know refer to as ‘their’ show. Melissa mothers him more than she mothers Janine, leaving that job to her platonic work wife. It’s a sweet little relationship that the two of them hold very dear to their hearts.

You’re about to enter the staff room when you hear the two of them chatting quietly over their lunches.

“You’re still coming over tonight to watch, right?” you hear your girlfriend ask.

You can hear Jacob scoff. “Of course I am. Where else would I be?”

“I figured now that you’re seeing Ravi a bit more seriously, maybe you would want to-”

“Mel Mel, no,” you hear the middle grades teacher laugh. You can practically see him rolling his eyes. “Why would I want to be anywhere else?”

You see this as a good time to enter the room, taking your seat next to the redhead. You peck her cheek delicately before diving into your leftovers from last nights Schemmenti family dinner.

“Jake’s coming over for dinner tonight, that okay?” Green eyes look into yours for any sort of hesitation from you.

“He knows he’s always welcome to come over.”

So that’s how you spend that night. You’re in the recliner reading your book while Jacob and Melissa veg out on the couch with their popcorn and sour cream and onion flavoring. They each have a glass of wine, and they’re deep into conversation about who is slighting who and why. It makes you chuckle as you half listen to their conversation, half read about the drama that is happening in your book.

“What are you reading?” Jacob asks. Only then do you look up from your book and realize that your girlfriend is nowhere to be seen.

You show him the cover before asking, “Where’d Mel go?”

“Bathroom,” he tells you. “Then we’re going to watch a movie since our show is over… she thought it might be a nice way to wind down, and who am I to deny that?”

“You’re such a good son to her, you know,” you say casually as you return your attention back to your book. You flip the page.

Jacob is left searching for words. “She’s not my mother.”

“No, but you’re still the best son she has,” you shrug and reach over to pop a piece of popcorn in your mouth.

He goes to say more, but Melissa returns, reaching for the blanket that is draped over the edge of the couch. She lays it across the two of them before reaching for the remote to turn on whatever movie the two of them will be watching. Jacob swears he sees a smirk dancing across your lips. And he’s right- you are smirking. Because now you know he’s thinking about what you said.

He supposes he sees it- the way that Melissa mothers him. If he’s being honest with himself, his own mother doesn’t even treat him like this anymore. It’s… nice to have someone care for him like that.

That night ends in Melissa sending Jacob off to his house with a Tupperware container full of Braciole and a “Text me when you’re home and safe in your apartment!”

As time goes on, your words linger in Jacob’s head. He’s like the son Melissa never had. And that is oddly okay with him- he like’s being the best son that your girlfriend has.

And when he and Ravi end with a messy breakup, your girlfriend is the first person he calls. He doesn’t call Janine, he doesn’t call Gregory, he doesn’t even call his own mother. No. The first person that crosses his mind as he leaves Ravi’s apartment for the last time is Melissa.

It’s late, and logically he knows that she probably isn’t awake and hasn’t been for hours. But he wants some maternal love and dials anyway.

You and your girlfriend are curled up in bed- her asleep, and you on the verge of sleep- when her phone rings to life.

“Who the fuck is calling at…” she blinks her eyes awake and glances at the clock. “1:30 in the morning?”

“Just let it go,” you sigh softly.

She reaches for her phone, and when you expect her to set it back down and pull you into her arms again, she doesn’t. Instead, her voice sounds concerned.

“Jacob?” is the only thing that she says into the phone.

You can hear his labored breaths. He doesn’t speak.

“Jake,” your girlfriend sighs. “Jacob, what’s going on? It’s 1:30 in the morning.”

“I- I know,” he chokes out. “But I- Ravi and I just broke up, and I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Oh,” Melissa’s face absolutely drops. She knows how much the social studies teacher liked the firefighter.

“I- I’m sorry,” he says pathetically into the phone. “I- I don’t even know why I called. Get back to-”

The redhead clears her throat, trying to get any of the remaining sleep out of her voice before she speaks again. “We’re still up. Come over.”

“It’s okay,” the distraught man sighs into the phone. “I can just…”

“Jacob, your ass better be here within the next thirty minutes,” Melissa tells him sternly. “You called me, you clearly don’t want to be alone, we were already up, so just come over.”

And that’s how you end up curled up next to your girlfriend, a glass of white wine in hand while Melissa sits in her spot, two glasses of red wine poured out for when her work son arrives.

“Babe, when he gets here though-”

“When he gets here, I’m moving to my recliner so you can mother him,” you roll your eyes as you yawn. “I don’t even know why I have to be here when he comes in.”

“Because I told him we were both up, and I don’t want him to think that we got out of bed for him,” Melissa tells you.

You smile at her softly as you rest your head on her shoulder. “You’re a good mother to him.”

“He’s not my son,” she chuckles.

“No, I know,” you sigh. “But he might as well be at this point. He called you, not his own mother.”

That thought makes her quirk her head to the side, thinking on this sentiment. She doesn’t have much time though, because Jacob is at the door knocking softly. You pick your head up and stand with her. While Melissa makes her way to the door, you take up the space in your recliner and curl up under the blanket, immediately reaching for the television remote.

You hear his sniffles as he comes in. He kicks off his shoes, and your girlfriend ushers him to the couch. She hands him the wine and wraps her arms around him. All Jacob can do is cry.

The redhead hushes her coworker gently, promising him that everything will be okay. And Jacob believes that- because if Melissa is saying it, it has to be true.

That night ends with him falling asleep on your girlfriend’s shoulder, and Melissa lays him down on the couch when the two of you finally decide to retire back to bed. She pulls the afghan from the back of the couch and gently drapes it over his body before running the tip of her index finger over his cheek.

“You’ll be alright, hun,” she whispers to him. Then she turns back to you and takes your hand.

As the two of you are curling up in bed for the second time that night, you hum, “You really would make a wonderful mother.”

When the time comes that you finally (according to Jacob and Janine) think about getting engaged and married to Melissa, Jacob could not want to be in on it more. He helps you find the perfect ring, he helps you plan it all, and he even insists on hiding out in the shadows in order to capture the event.

“Trying to make your mom happy?” you tease him.

He rolls his eyes with a smirk on his face. “She’s not my mother, but… Melissa being happy is all all of us want.”

When you do end up proposing to her, you expect Barbara to be the first person that your girlfriend flies into the arms of. Instead, it’s Jacob. Barbara, of course, is second. But Jacob seems absolutely ecstatic, telling the redhead that he helped with almost every aspect of the proposal. Melissa tells him that she couldn’t have wished for it to be anything else, and that she was very proud of him. Jacob blushes profusely, and it reminds all three of you just how close your Abbott family really is.

As wedding plans come along, Jacob is there for all of it. It’s a sweet thing. He looks like a kid in the candy store as Melissa, Barbara, and he look for the perfect outfit to get married in. Barbara is of course Melissa’s matron of honor, and Jacob is just happy to be there. He has no idea that at this appointment, Melissa is also going to be having him try on suits to match the bridal party.

“So,” Jacob leans forward with excitement. “What colors are you planning on doing for the bridal parties?!”

“Y/N and I decided that a nice salmony pink color might be good,” Melissa says with a twinkle in her eye. “So… you better start looking at ties and suits, mister.”

Barbara, who knew that her best friend was going to reveal this bit of information, grins. Meanwhile, Jacob’s jaw absolutely drops. He’s astounded.

“What? Why would I have to find a tie for-”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t have you in my wedding party?” the redhead rolls her eyes as she opens up her arms. “You’re as close to a son as I’m going to get as of right now. Of course you’re in the wedding.”

Tears begin to pour over the younger man’s face as he fully tackles his work mother in a hug. “Oh my god.”

“I don’t know,” he chuckles through his tears. “I just thought that I was here to-”

“To help me pick out my outfit, but also to help figure out the perfect color that you’ll be wearing and to get fitted for a suit, if you want,” Melissa tells him.

Barbara passes out three glasses of champagne in celebration.

When your wedding day finally comes, you’re standing up at the altar in your own suit as you await the moment that Melissa will be walked down the aisle by none other than Mr. Johnson (he was elated when your fiancee explained to him that he was something of a father figure to him).

The ceremony is beautiful- perfect even. Everybody laughs, everybody sheds tears, everybody is just thrilled at the fact that the two of you are tying the knot.

The reception is a thrill. Both you and Melissa make small toasts, a few others speak, and then it’s time for dancing.

You have your first dance with your wife (good God, you can call her your wife now!), she dances with Mr. Johnson, you dance with your own father, and then… Melissa makes her way up to the microphone.

“Hey youse guys,” Melissa chuckles nervously. “I know everyone else wants to get to dancing, but there is one more special person that I’d like to dance with… if he’ll make his way up.”

Nobody stands, but your wife’s green eyes are trained on Jacob.

“Me?” he gasps. At Melissa’s nod, he stands hesitantly before making his way over.

“Of course.” You see that those green eyes start to turn a little glassy, and she takes a deep breath to steady herself. “For those of you that don’t know… this is Jacob Hill- grade A pain in my ass turned something like a son to me.”

The two dance to a beautiful song written by Elton John, “Chosen Family”. By the end of it, there are no dry eyes in the audience. It’s a song that feels like it was written for them.

And then the night is off, everyone is dancing, and you’re just relishing in this beautiful moment that you have in your hands.

Jacob is dancing near the two of you when you decide to make your way over.

“Hey,” you check him with your hip gently. “Welcome to the family.”

The man smiles at you from ear to ear.

“You’re such a good son to her,” you compliment softly as you envelope him in a hug.

He just chuckles in your ear. “I know. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have her in my life.” Then his jaw drops. “Oh my god. Does this mean you’re like a weird sort of step-mom to me now?!”

As time goes on, you and your wife decide to try to expand the family. And somehow, by some grace of God (Melissa would tell you that it’s because Barbara prayed over you two night after night), you end up pregnant after the first treatment.

If you thought Jacob was a part of your household before, he’s only over more now. He’s constantly bringing over baby clothes and toys, helping Melissa to assemble the crib and the rocking chair as well as installing carseats into both of your cars, he’s bringing over remedies to help you with morning sickness and then creams and other things to help you feel the most comfortable that you can be during this pregnancy.

When you go into labor, he’s the first one Melissa calls, and then she calls Barbara.

You deliver a son, a beautiful baby boy. He’s perfect. And he has an even more perfect name.

“Go get Jake,” you tell your wife gently as you continue to cradle your son to your chest. “He deserves to meet his godson, and lord knows that boy has been sitting in the waiting room since he got your call.”

Melissa just chuckles as she stands from her place on your bed, kisses you softly, strokes the boy’s cheek, and then heads out.

She brings back both Barbara and Jacob, who immediately squeal upon seeing you as a mother for the first time. While Jacob fully thinks that you’ll hand the baby to your wife’s work-wife first, you actually hand the baby to him. He looks at this baby like he’s never seen anything more perfect.

“Do we have a name?” Barbara asks.

You smile at the man holding your newborn. “We do.”

“And it is?” Barbara prompts.

“Mel, do you want to tell him what his godson’s name is?” you prompt.

Jacob’s eyes go wide, and his jaw drops. “G-godson?”

“Godson,” you confirm, tears in your own eyes. You wipe at them gently as you lay back in the hospital bed.

“His name is,” Melissa chuckles through tears of her own as she makes her way over to the pair. “Milo Jacob Schemmenti… Milo meaning beloved, and Jacob, after you.”

“After… after me?” Jacob’s voice goes high as his eyes fill with even more tears. He holds the baby even closer to him, if that’s possible.

“Of course,” your wife smiles as she wraps a proud arm around him. “And if Milo turns out half as good as my first son, that kid is going to be set for life.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo

#abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #jacob hill

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cheriladycl01 · 11 months ago

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I cant do this anymore - George Russell x Wolff! Reader Part 5

Plot: You are the daughter of Toto Wolff team principle of Mercedes-AMG Petronas, you've worked your whole life to become an engineer. However, your dad has other ideas for you and doesn't want you to become a race engineer. You start to confide more in the Red Bull Racing Team Principle to help you get an engineering job, and see him as your present father figure.

There was a pretty decent break between Brazil and Las Vegas, you spend the first week with Geri and Christian and their kids. You'd had a blast riding their horses, going for bike rides and lots of baking.

They of course let you stay with them in the spare bedroom, you went on a massive shopping spree with Geri getting some new clothes as you hadn't gone home and talked about everything you normally would with Suzie. You couldn't lie, you really missed her, especially the hugs she gave you.

However on the weekend before Vegas, Lewis had texted you seeing if you'd wanted to stay with him in Las Vegas for a bit. Lewis had known you since 2009, you were 9 years old. You always came to as many race weekends as you could, obsessed with F1 as much as your dad. You loved the fast cars and the smell of the fuel.

Here was were you were introduced to Suzie, it was perfect time really. You were a 9 year old girl, about to enter here teen years without a mother figure. And Suzie and you, got on like two peas in a pod.

In 2012 when he became the executive director in Williams you travelled with him. Your mum didn't want anything to do with you, so that left you to be home school. It wasn't easy in Williams, they were tight on money and resources despite Toto's financial contributions to the team and no-body had time for you it seemed.

The next year when your dad moved to Mercedes, that had a slightly bigger budget and more time around the paddock was when it became easier.

The engineers helped you with your math's and science while marketing and legal would help you with your English. That's where your love of engineering came from.

Lewis would often stay with you, he and Nico were like brothers and they couldn't help but see you like a little sister with the relentless teasing they put you through.

As you got older, Toto paid for you to have an online tutor so you could sit your GCSE's at some point. 2016 was probably the worst year you had on record apart from everything that's happened in 2023.

You could tell that when they started to compete for the championship in 2014 that things were getting tense between them, they tried to keep it to themselves but you could tell with the post race interviews and how they didn't want to hang out as much together with you.

But in 2016, when Nico won and their friendship had pretty much crumbled as far as it could you, you were also sitting those GCSE's and it was a really tough year for you. Lewis and Nico now spoke to you separately, their sides of the garage never crossing over like they used to.

So you not only had the stress of your GCSE's, the stress of your two role models no longer talking and with that your own childhood best friend cutting you off because of how much you travelled and your commitments not being strong enough. And to top it of Nico was confirmed to be leaving the sport which would mean you wouldn't see him as often.

However, despite everything that went on you came out with some really good grades, thanks to Lewis and his help when it come to studying.

You actually met George the year after when he became a junior driver for Mercedes. You had just turned 17 and he was 20 and part way working his way up through the feeder series into Formula One.

You actually had a crush on George all the way back then, Lewis convinced you it was just a silly little school girl crush you'd soon get over and motorsport men were a walking red flag. Which you found out was true with your first heartbreak when you dated an F2 driver that was the same age as you. You dad of course was hesitant at first, and he was right to be. He cheated on you with one of the insta models 7 months into your relationship.

Lewis did a lot for you and you guys were close, so you almost felt like you couldn't say no even though you didn't want to anyway.

You got the first flight you could out to his LA mansion.

"Hello" he greeted you as you'd found him in the airport with his security. There was of course Paps so it was only a short amount of time before people knew you were here with Lewis.

He drove the pair of you back to his LA home, you guys spent the rest of the week surfing, go-karting and walking Roscoe. Everyone knew you were here by now so you posted a photo dump on the Wednesday to Instagram, photos of everything you guys had been up to.

Everyone in the comments was so excited that big brother Lewis was back.

"So, I think now that we've had some time to chill out we should talk about the serious matters on the table" Lewis says as he spoons some of the vegan dish his private chef had made you guys.

"Mmmm?" you hum as you gobble more of the delightful food down.

"I miss you in the Mercedes Garage and the red bull top doesn't suit you" he says making your head whip to the side.

"Excuse me!" you nearly choke on your food.

"Look, I know what Toto and George did was foul... and others have made it into this whole dramatic show, but I miss teasing you in the garage and I miss you telling the engineers something was wrong and trying not to laugh! I miss you! Everyone does, George, Toto, Suz, all the hospitality and mechanics and the engineers!" he offers looking at you.

"I'm not coming back to Mercedes Lew, I've found my place in Red Bull, they've even let me help on the 2024 car! My dad turned me down straight away when i asked, they trust me there and they like my ideas! I'll talk to both of them okay, I promise but Red Bull stuck their neck out for me hiring me... so I owe them!" you admit, knowing Red Bull helped you a lot, as much as you'd helped them.

"I know I know, but just talk to them soon. They are both suffering and they regret what they did!"

You drove in Lewis car all the way to Nevada. It was only a 4 hour drive where you guys did make stops along the way. You guy's parted ways as you got there. He needed to be present for media duties and you had to be with Red Bull making sure the car was up to standard.

You checked in with everyone you hadn't seen for the two week gap, checking in with the mechanics making sure they though the car was looking okay after the race.

And before you knew it Max was coming out of FP1 in 4th, FP2 in 6th and FP3 in 4th. It was a new track and everyone was getting used to the it and how the car performed on it. In Practices it was more for the driver to get the feel for the car.

Max qualified P3, but because Carlos had to take a 10 place grid penalty he was moved up to P2. He was on the front line next to Charles Leclerc and if he got a good start he could finish again P1.

Vegas was a stressful race for everyone. Charles and his Ferrari was made for the layout of this street circuit it seemed. Lando had a really bad crash which had everyone worried.

Ferrari, once again fucked up their strategy as you called Max to box when the safety car was released. Charles had only pitted a few laps prior. Now Max and Sergio were on the fresher tires.

"Warm those tires up Max then when DRS is available go for that overtake on Turn 3 for P1" you advise as he rolls out of the pits behind the safety car that Charles was already following.

Eventually you had both Red Bulls in the front ready for a 1-2 podium. But on the final lap Charles went for the overtake on Sergio and broke the Red Bulls up, there was no way he'd catch up with Max but you told him to hold his position.

Again Max Verstappen had one his 18th race of the season and you'd been his race engineer for a whole new track. He'd pulled you into a massive hug, along with Christian who was impressed with how quickly you were adapting to the new role.

"Amazing driver guys! Straight to Abu Dhabi now!" Christian grins, nothing could now ruin his mood. Max had been confirmed Champion of the World a few races back but Red Bull still wanted to prove they were winners.

And that you did, you went to Abu Dhabi and one again by a landslide. You all celebrated the end of the season and Max asked you to come up on the podium with him again. However, George had come P3. so you were up on the Podium with him and Charles too.

The champagne was brought out and all the guys showered each other before coming over to you. They soaked you with the rest of the champagne the dark team gear sticking to your skin.

"Omg" you squeal as someone pulls back your top and dumps some of their champagne down your back. You swivel round to see George. Everything is so loud around you right now. Charles and Max are off celebrating the podium together a little further away from the pair of you now.

"George" you say looking up at him and he sheepishly takes a step back.

"George, no! I'm sorry I didn't speak to you sooner" you say looking at him, only for his head to cock to the side where he couldn't here you.

"What?" he shouts coming closer.

You lean in right up to his ear so that he can actually here you.

"I'm sorry I ignored you for so long. I was being childish. Lewis... Lewis talked some sense into me." you say.

"You-" he starts confused. He was the one that owed you an apology not the other way around.

"Y/N listen to me. Meet me tonight and we will talk about everything I promise!" he shouts making you able to hear him over the crowd.

"Okay!" you nod, before turning around and the Red Bull team all cheer as you hold up the trophy.

"Oh and George, Congrats of P3!" you grin, before joining Max and Charles.

Maybe it was time for you to talk it out. Maybe even to reach out to your dad! Lewis was as always right!

Taglist:

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#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #george russel imagine #george russel x reader #george russell x reader #george russell #george russell imagine #gr63 #gr63 x reader #gr63 imagine #lewis hamilton imagine #toto wolff #max verstappen imagine

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shdysders · 9 months ago

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dorothea

pairing: jenna ortega & female reader

summary: in which jenna left her small town to chase down hollywood dreams, that meant leaving you too.

word count: 1.5k

author’s note: fully based on taylor swift’s song dorothea. lmk what u think!

Growing apart.

It was like a curse.

A curse that nobody could escape or prevent from happening. It happens to the best of people. Even to people that thought they'd be friends for an infinite amount of time.

It happens to everyone as they grow up. You find out who you are, what you want, and everything might be different from what your best friend want to do.

Although that wasn't the case for you and Jenna.

Like two peas in a pod, that's what family and friends would use to describe your friendship. You were always together and never apart.

Sleepovers every weekend and playdates for hours on days that were free. Shared birthday parties and same celebrity crushes. Same dreams for the future and same fears of dying or aging.

It wasn't shocking, really; you and Jenna were more alike than she was with her own siblings.

You sometimes found yourself wondering if Jenna ever stopped her busy lifestyle to think about you and what you used to be.

If she ever thought about the nights were you found yourself in each others rooms, pulling all nighters and gossiping about whatever til it was almost sunrise.

Laughing until your stomach's began hurting, which always ended up with your parents telling you guys to quiet down.

Or when you guys would run down to the park and play on the swings, whenever you had spent hours listening to your mom and dad fighting, sometimes even trying to joke about the things they had yelled. Making a lark of the misery.

When you guys would write your own scripts, for the movies you guys were going to direct when growing up, where you would be the stars.

Or when you would act them out, whether it was in recess at school, or in the middle of the night.

That was all memories now, just thoughts that would eventually come back to the surface of the mind, in a faded and distant manner.

Jenna had other people to relive those memories with now. Shiny new friends that she had managed to get since she left town, the small settlement were everybody knew everyone.

Everybody knew who Jenna was in the town where you grew up, but they knew who you were too. Now everyone in the whole world knew who Jenna was, and you remained being known in a petite village, nowhere else.

The only place you would see Jenna now was at a tiny screen in a cinema hall or in vogue magazines. It was where you and her had planned to be together. Supermodels in fancy clothes, like the clothes you would steal from her older sisters.

However, you had nothing but good and well wishes for her, you truly hoped that she was living her best life, and based on the articles and headlines you saw, it looked like she was.

Just because you weren't able to get the life you wished for didn't mean she couldn't have it, she wanted it too, and she deserved it, you knew that.

The town was the same as it ever was. Nothing had changed since Jenna left for other things, which she probably would've have liked.

Jenna had always wanted to just get away.

Away from the small town where you could barely have any secrets without everybody figuring it out.

Ever since you were six years old, you and Jenna had been making up a whole plan on how everything would go down. The plan of escaping to Hollywood.

How you would make it there after hours of trains and buses, and when you would arrive, everyone would know who you were, the second you stepped a foot into the town.

And even though Jenna already got that, without having to escape in secret and without anyone knowing. You hoped she knew that it would never be too late to come back to your side. Even after the way she left you.

Although you knew she wouldn't return home, especially not since you knew how her eyes looked when she was acting back when you were younger. All filled with stars of excitement and wonder, you could remember.

You didn't see that glow in her eyes anymore, not on social media nor in articles about interviews. She looked tired, tired from being known and always being in the spotlight, tried from being known for being in contact with other famous people.

And if she ever started to doubt her current friends; unsure if they were consorting with her because of her popularity or not, either that or if she was just overly tired of them, you hoped she was aware that she would always know you, if she wanted to.

Jenna was currently one of the most known actors in the whole wide world, people talked about her everywhere. She was like a queen, part of the royal family, but the 'none regal' kind.

She was selling dreams by just signing autographs, partnering with make up brands to sell products, being in the cover of magazines of all kinds, she was selling everything. And from her you'd buy anything.

Did she ever stop and think of you?

Did she ever think about the time you skipped half of the high school prom just to piss her mom off?

You remembered that night like it was yesterday. None of you had dates for the night, and eventually you guys got bored of all the dancing and seeing couples kissing, so you ran off, making her mother go absolute insane; she was all for the proms and pageant schemes.

Jenna also loved dressing up and playing with clothes, you always used to do that when you were having play dates as kids, and embarrassingly enough it happened a few times while you were older as well.

Now Jenna was dressing up in fancy clothes for what it seemed like every week, cameras constantly flashing onto her for perfect pictures, people screaming for her attention.

Everybody wanted to be her. Everybody wanted to be Jenna Ortega.

Even your friends spoke about her and how they wanted to be a famous actor in Hollywood. However, you couldn't find yourself focusing on that.

All the thoughts that came to mind was if Jenna still had the same soul as the one you met under the bleachers.

It had been in the first day of first grade, when the teacher had been introducing the class to all of the rooms and halls.

And when it had been time for the gym area to be shown, you got scared of all the people and ran behind the bleachers to hide. By the time you'd gotten there, a brunette was already there.

She was shorter than you, her hair was the same length as yours, and eyes were darker. A friendship necklace was draped around her neck, and when you had asked her who the other half belonged to, she had replied that nobody had it, and that you could have it if you wanted to.

You would probably never find out if she was the same person with the same generous soul now, you weren't sure if she even remembered the time you first met, if she even remembered you at all.

She probably didn't remember the time you guys had your first kiss with each other. It was only practice for future reference and eventual middle school crushes, but it was still a great memory of yours.

Memories of her were something that fogged your mind at least once a week, but they probably didn't affect Jenna at all. She went on with the shows and interviews, not looking influenced at all.

But it was great. You loved watching Jenna fulfill her dreams, even though you never got a chance to be a part of them like it had been planned.

You hoped that she would eventually find her way back to you, because it would never be too late for that, although it might've felt like that some days.

Jenna was known over the whole world, but like you two had talked about in previous years, you knew the Hollywood life came with lots of stress and pressure. So you knew that was a struggle she was going through.

She would eventually grow tired of being famous, that's something you had thought multiple times, that she would eventually become tired of being known for knowing famous people. And if she ever did, you would be happy to tell her that she would always know you.

Your head would always perk up whenever Jenna's name was mentioned, you would always greet her family members if you saw them, you would think about her on her birthday, and pray that she would think of you on yours.

Jenna was still so unconditionally important to you, and you wanted nothing but the best for her.

She would always know you, if she wanted to.

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader #mabel x reader #melissa barrera x reader

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residenthughes · 10 months ago

Text

coming home - connor dewar

pairing: connor dewar x fem! reader

word count: 11k

tags/warning: friends to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst?, mentions of alcohol/drinking, minor swearing

summary: your entire life has entailed having connor by your side, no matter where the universe carves your paths. back home for the summer leading up to your final year of university, there's much to ponder - even your own feelings about your best friend.

notes: this is genuinely a labour of love, the longest fic i've written in a long time 😭 i wanted this to be short and sweet, but it's long and sweet and i don't know how to feel about that lmao. but (!!!) i am really proud/happy about how this has come together and i hope you all enjoy this fic just as much as i loved writing it 😇 this is mostly proofread, but it is 5 in the morning, so I'll return to this soon! (apologizes for any errors towards the end!) more dewey content shall be coming soon, hehe! much love! <333

(also! this is very much in celebration of dewey's first goal as a leaf, teehee! 😁💗⭐️)

Summer’s always your favourite time of the year. Tan lines, midnight drives, fireworks, the beach. So much sweetness is in the breezy summer air and you simply can’t get enough. You wouldn’t admit it, but your favourite part of the season is when one of your closest friends, Connor, comes up from his gruelling hockey season and returns to the slow and laid-back lifestyle of your small town. Having grown up next door neighbours the majority of your lives, you quickly became two peas in a pod, always together with laughter following closeby.

Your friendship is something you’ve always treasured, held in some reclusive and special part of your heart that only houses your fated connection. No matter how mundane your time together may be - Connor strumming his acoustic guitar and you reading as the citrus sunset dips into the horizon - it's all so memorable to you and nothing, as you’ve come to experience, can ever replace his place in your life. However, life is a constant cycle of change and that first dose came when you two were fourteen, too awkward for your own good and growing out of your bodies. Connor was selected to play in a high-level hockey league hours away from your hometown and as your fingertips buried themselves into his tear-soaked t-shirt, you swore nothing could compare to this pain. The absolute tear of your beating heart out of your raw chest that ached with every gasp. You were a mess, undeterred by your futile attempt to appear as nonchalant at your silly age, but the second Connor stood on your porch, luggage in hand and the sadest tinge in his sage eyes, you fell apart.

Despite the sheer anguish you experienced that crisp autumn day, you adjusted. Stayed in contact with your best friend and continued to build up your life in his absence. Completed all your teenage rites of passage - took some extracurriculars, went to prom (you wanted to ask Connor, but ultimately decided against it), graduated high school and started attending university in Calgary - nine hours away from home. So many things changed and some still stayed the same. Connor was still as hockey obsessed and through his diligent efforts, he’s achieved his dreams of playing in the NHL night after night. You were there for draft day and there for his first game, university be damned. As was Connor, in the stands during your high school graduation and any time you needed him, whether that was him sitting on the phone with you until four in the morning or meeting up with you halfway across two countries because he felt like it. There was always something so spectacular about you two, your stories detailed by destiny and hung amongst the stars. A divine creation that despite the odds, of paths that have taken you two elsewhere, always merged because that is simply how it’s meant to be.

And, so it is, your last summer before your final year and here you are, fingertips tapping against the wooden bar as your leg jerks in anticipation of a figure that will come through your hometown bar, Punch & Judy’s doors any minute now.

Your best friend, Charlotte, manages to interweave your antsy fingers in between hers, a nurturing smile across her smooth face. “He’ll get here, don’t worry.”

Your eyebrows quirk, your legs stopping all motion. “Who said anything about worrying?”

She rolls her eyes, unamused. “You know what I mean,”

Then, she goes on to untangle your fingers, leaning her crossed arms against the bar occupied by the usual mellow group of regulars, including your own bunch of friends. “Besides, you know him. Knowing you’re here, he’s tryna get here quicker than a New York minute.”

A funny feeling flips in the pits of your stomach, an immediate flush coating the apples of your cheeks as you clumsily grab at your cider bottle. Connor always poked fun at your inability to enjoy a cold one, resorting to fruity flavours of cider. “He’s a law-abiding citizen, he’ll wait for the greenlight even if it kills him.”

“If you say so,” Charlotte casts you a glance out of the corner of her eye, smugness tugging at the corners of her lips as she takes another swig of her beer. The bell signifying the main door opening sounds in the background. “Oh, look. Speak of the devil and he shall appear! Hey there, stranger!”

Suddenly, your attention is elsewhere, eyes pinned to the tall silhouette that struts through the doorway of the LED ridden bar, kind eyes and a kinder smile with his tousled hickory hair and hushed voice finding its way to your eardrums again after so long. It’s like coming home again, watching from afar as close friends fall into endless hugs, your reunion saved for last as you beam a closed mouthed smile, reproduced by your best friend who opens his arms for a hug that solely belongs to you. You fall into him instinctively, inhaling his soft woody scent as you bury yourself in his embrace, the pendulum of your life coming to a pause as your universe centres.

“Get a room, you two!” Connor’s brother, Quinn taunts from over your shoulder, eliciting an exaggerated sigh from you as you’re reluctantly reminded of the lame chirps he seems to be full of whenever you and Connor are together.

You ignore him, savouring the moment for what its momentarily worth before Connor’s pulling away, arms loosely wrapped around the circumference of your waist as he peers down at you with those same green eyes you’ve known your entire life.

“Hi.” you breathe, short and sweet.

He simpers, something coy in the lines of his smile as he replies back, “hi.”

It’s a simple greeting, but there’s so much more in those few syllables - the endless gravity of your shared experiences and fondest memories making their way back to each other. Your eyes linger for a minute longer, taking in each other’s presence that’s long been missed due to your busy schedules leading up to your summer break. You part ways and despite how fulfilled you are to have him here and see him after some time, there’s a small knack that nags at you - hollow and wanting as you venture to a booth nearby, squishing up in between Charlotte and another one of your guy friends, Owen Power, who like Connor has been busting his ass in the NHL and friends with you all for longer than you can remember. You all chatter amongst yourselves with Connor’s brother sitting across from you, a discussion brewing as Connor returns shortly after getting a drink at the bar, sliding beside his brother with a beer in hand.

“Come on, Connie. Help me out here, these guys have lost the plot.” His brother argues, an eye roll your response.

Connor looks between your group, a knit in his eyebrows. “What’s the deal?”

“They’re tryna say, get this - that dolphins are more dangerous than damn orcas. Can you believe that?” Quinn attests, expression pinched as he ruffles the curls of his bleached hair sticking out his snapback.

“Hey! We’re well within reason to be arguing with you. You on the other hand? I don’t think so.” Charlotte proclaims, an accusatory finger directed towards Quinn.

“Yeah, not gonna lie, Quinn. You’re severely underestimating how evil dolphins are,” concludes Owen, his hand raised as he pushes up his glasses on the bridge of his sunkissed nose.

Quinn guffaws, jaw slack as his eyes flicker between everyone’s faces in quick succession, clearly in disbelief. “Are you hearing this right now?”

“Look, Q - we’ve been over this,” you start, hands extending as if to make sense of your proposed point. “You’ve been fed dolphin propaganda. We’ve literally shown you so many resources about their heinous crimes. Take it or leave it.”

Quinn groans, elbowing his older brother who wordlessly listens to the ongoing conversation. “Bro! A little help would be nice.”

A brief pause follows his younger brother’s melodrama, Connor weighing out the arguments of a conversation he hadn’t been here for, his eyes flickering over towards yours fleetingly. An unexplained shiver runs down your spine, the action camouflaged poorly as you appear to distract yourself from the sensation, fingernails scratching against the lines of your neck as you look up at the ceiling.

“Hello?!” hollers Quinn.

You swear he loves to hear himself talk.

“They’re right,” Connor concludes, eyes set on you as he speaks before he takes a swig of his beer, focusing back onto his brother. “Personally, I think you’ve been taking one too many trips to Sea World.”

“The promised land of dolphin propaganda.” mentions Charlotte.

“This is ridiculous!” Quinn exclaims, sending a heavy elbow into his older brother’s arm, all of which barely gains any sort of response from him. “What happened to honour amongst bros, huh? They don’t have that in Minnesota or what?”

Connor scoffs lightly, his smile reading amused as his head turns towards his brother. “That doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything you say.”

Quinn mumbles something under his breath, clearly displeased. “I forget you’re my harshest critic.”

Their double act entices the crowd, your circle of friends laughing amongst yourselves as Quinn folds his shoulders with his usual theatrics. No one buys into it, much less Connor who drapes his arm loosely around his brother’s squared shoulders, leaning in with a tickled pink smile that reflects within your own expression.

“You’re just mad I won’t kiss your ass.”

That earns him a shove off Quinn’s shoulders, sending him into a fit of laughter. Everyone chortles along, basking in the merriment of the moment before you’re delving into other non-controversial topics, indulging everyone in the bits and pieces of your lives they’ve missed and just like that, you're four drinks in and so sentimental it hurts. Owen suggests a walk around the town centre, a tradition you cannot help but all agree to as you all shimmy out of your respective booth, bidding Judy at the bar farewell as you file out of the establishment.

The cobalt sky dazzles with stars you’ve forgotten shine so bright here, the midday heat nowhere in sight as a cool breeze pushes you forwards. You linger behind Quinn as he impulsively hops onto Owen’s back, who stumbles at the sudden weight whilst Charlotte laughs at the unfolding scene. Nostalgia warms your heart at the sight, eyes half-closed and posture relaxing as the warm summer night holds you close and kisses your worries goodbye.

An arm drapes over your shoulders, your slow strides matching up with Connor’s as he looks to you, smile small and earnest as he playfully challenges, “Since when did you know about dolphin propaganda?”

You gasp, humour shaping your lips. “Well, you’ve been in my ear most of my life yapping about it, so…”

“Hey, I’m just saying - was I wrong?” the smirk on his face attests to his unwavering confidence and as you catch a whiff of his woody cologne, you roll your eyes in defeat, smile still on your lips.

“Considering you wore a shark tooth to school, I didn’t think so.”

You have to bite back the wide smile that fights to spread across your face, a few snickers here and there escaping before the loose ring around your shoulders closes in, Connor smushing your face inwards against the strength of his bicep. You can’t help but laugh throughout, swatting away his pesky grip that lasts no longer than a few seconds before all you hear is the echoes of your winded chuckles. In an effort to stabilise yourself from the momentary loss of oxygen, your hand seeks Connor’s, holding onto his larger and warmer as your feet hit the pavement in unison.

“Feels good to be back, doesn’t it?”

You let your head fall to Connor’s shoulder, arm wrapping around his lower back as your steps sync with such ease. A lightness in your limbs and how perceptive you can be to the sounds of downtown - car horns, hushed chatter and the like - let you know there’s nowhere you’d rather be right now than here. Back at home, with your best friends and your partner in crime who you answer in the form of a hum.

Your first few days back in the Pas are slow and uneventful, most of your time spent decompressing from the taxing semester and unpacking your items, all of which you didn’t know just how much you possessed. In an effort to make the most of the sunshine and get out the house for reasons other than your part time job at the local diner, you sign up for community gardening activities and ask the groupchat if anyone wants to come along. Everyone appears to have plans, except for Connor, who in the early hours of the next morning, picks you up from your childhood home and drives into town where for the next few hours, you’re knee deep in dirt under the blaring sun as you plant various kinds of greenery to spotlight the natural beauty of your rustic town.

What is certain, when early afternoon pours in, painting the sky in shades of honey and tangerine, you’re exhausted beyond belief. You have no idea how Connor makes the drive home, yet he does and when you two collapse into the hammock in your family’s backyard, your lips are slack and echoing more yawns than you can contain.

“That was great and all, but that’s knocked me out,” Connor groans, limp body shuffling in the confinements of the cotton hammock hanging off one of the trees in your backyard. The same tree which holds the treehouse you and Connor partially lived in throughout your youth. “That was more tiring than hockey practice.”

You’re tired and easily distracted, your head perched up in a way that puts the treehouse in your direct eye-line. “Remember when we’d watch movies in that treehouse?”

A brief pause follows, occupied by the tranquil chirps and running water from the nearby bird bath. “Yeah, I’d always wanna watch Jaws but you wanted to watch Disney movies.”

You give him a laugh, shuffling yourself in order to get comfortable in the small space. Why did you two think this would work like it did ten years ago? The thought occurs to you, but you brush it off to save yourself additional mental load, making the adjustments to cater to some form of comfortability in the tiny space. Even if that means sacrificing your shared personal space as your body overlaps onto Connor’s strong and firm one.

“Says the guy who knows the all the songs in Lemonande Mouth,” you counter, “And, Let it Shine.”

Without missing a beat, in his sleepy voice, Connor replies with, “kissy kissy, Roxanne, did you miss me?”

Groaning despite the snickers slipping past your lips, you bury your head into Connor’s chest, refusing to hear the rest of his ramblings. “My girl is hotter than your girl, you know it! You know it.”

To get your point across, you unbury your head, wide eyes peering up at your best friend who’s so amused by this all, hair messy and smile stretching from ear to ear. A bright sight. “Can you not?”

“You’re just hating 'cause I sing better than you.” He follows that by sticking his tongue out at you, so mature for his age that you grant him the response of a heavy sigh and an averted gaze, settling back into the peace and serenity of your backyard.

However, the silence doesn’t last long before you’re speaking again.

“Your hair’s getting long,” you observe, fingertips dancing along Connor’s nape as you absently fiddle with the long strands of his hair, silky between your fingers. “You should let me cut it.”

“Name a time and place, and I’ll be there,” he mumbles sleepily against the crown of your head, soothing you further towards a serene sleep. “Unless you fuck it up. Then, I won’t forgive you.”

You give him the satisfaction of a laugh tucked away in your chest, the ghost of a smile dissipating as the aches of a hard work’s start to plunge their teeth into your flesh and bones, body like cement as you sink further into the comfort of the hammock, into the comfort of your calm summer afternoon.

“One of my friends from my team’s supposed to be coming up for a night or two,” Connor croaks, voice hoarse and the gentle breeze of the summer’s day pecking your skin in an act of love. “Think…you’ll all get along with him quite well.”

His point is punctuated by a tired yawn that proves to be contagious as you mirror the action moments after, eyes unbearably heavy as time moves slow like molasses, body further sinking against Connor’s. You don’t even stop yourself from falling asleep, only blinking away the exhausted sting in your eyes to answer your best friend.

“Can’t wait,” you mumble, adjusting your body against Connor as your limbs slot together like puzzle pieces, matched at every curve as slumber envelopes you two in a kind embrace. “It’ll be good - the visit…and the rest of summer.”

Your words trail in a drowsy daze, tone doused in sleepiness as your eyes can no longer keep themselves open, glimpses of hickory branches and pear leaves wishing you peace and serenity as you finally fall asleep.

Your shift at the local diner passes without as much traffic as expected, local patrons ordering their usual with a few tourists dropping by to try the culinary experience of your average but nostalgic diner food. Due to how quiet the establishment is - Mabel, your boss and long-time owner of the diner - lets you off early and with a hug, you scurry back to your family house to get ready for the night's events. After dozing off with Connor in the hammock out back, your mother softly awoke to you with a holler she’s used since the dawn of time.

“Up and at ‘em, kids. Dinner’s ready!” in the distance of your dreams, you hear your mother yell.

With drowsy film still coating your eyes, you and Connor manage to dislodge your limbs from one another, sleepy smiles and croaky chuckles exchanged as you amble inside your house and Connor stays for a filling homemade meal that everyone at the dining table fawns over. Connor hangs back as you venture into the kitchen to wash up, a tradition you two have forged, him washing the dishes and you drying them. Not much dialogue takes place between the two of you and there is no need. For all the instances where you believed the need for conversation, you appreciate this silence so much more - how there’s no urge to talk for the sake of talking and how much comfort there is with simply just being with Connor. After you’ve done the washing up and Connor’s hugged your mother goodbye, fist bumping your father hilariously enough, he’s climbing into his car and wishing you well.

“You sure you don’t need me to pick you up from Mabel’s?” coaxes Connor, the wiggle of his eyebrows offsetting the echoes of titters that leave your lips.

“I’m good, thanks. Need to shower and get ready, anyways,” a gentle gust of wind blows, fallen leaves scraping against the cement of your driveway. “We all know how long that takes.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” Connor simpers, says like it’s the easiest thing in the world and like it doesn’t demand for the city of butterflies within you to soar beyond their ability.

You flash a strained smile, giving the top of Connor’s car a pat as your posture straightens and you step away from the vehicle. “Goodbye, Connor.”

“See you soon.” and just like that, he’s gone with the wind, taking a little piece of you with him.

It’s when you’re strolling your way back inside the house, halfway up the stairs to your bedroom that your mom gives you a gentle call, beckoning you back down the stairs to find her in the dimly lit living room, mahogany reading glasses hanging low on the bridge of her nose whilst the quiet snores of your father and his baseball game fill in the background noise.

She folds her newspaper, crinkles running up your spine as she addresses you. “So good to have Connie over, makes me miss him more when he’s away.”

Connor is like a son to her, the better part of your childhood glued at the hip whilst your parents cooed and awed at your loyalty to one another. He helps around the house with no complaint nor expectation of compensation, buys her favourite flowers every Mother’s day with an additional heartfelt gift come her birthday. He listens, he jokes and he cares. What more could she ask for?

“Can’t imagine how much more you miss him whilst you’re away.” she comments, throwing her denim clad leg over the other, directing all her attention to you, swaying between two feet with your hands behind your back, sceptical.

“Well, we try to meet up when we can, so it’s not too bad,” your hand goes to scratch the back of your neck, chin jutted as your head leans to the side. “…Is that why you called me down?”

Awkwardness rarely rears its head in your household built upon openness and unconditional love, which is why the unspoken truth your mother struggles to vocalise raises a red flag, your skin prickling as you fiddle with your hands behind your back.

She’s looking at you now, a maternal love in her eyes as she speaks up. “Maybe, I can’t really put my finger on it, really. I did, however, want to say that I hope you guys keep each other in your lives, however that may pan out in the future. There’s a special happiness in your eyes I want you two to be selfish with.”

It’s a small thing, she says. A snowflake amongst the pile of snow in the realms of your mind, but as you lay in bed later on that late afternoon, staring at the gold stars Connor helped hang up in your room, your mind wanders places it never conceptualised. Inserts Connor in places in your life where he hadn’t been previously - opposite you illuminated by a candle-lit dinner, dancing in a kitchen as you prepare breakfast and kiss each other in between, above your bare body as he holds you in the palm of his hand like you are the most precious thing the universe has gifted him. It’s a point in time that despite busying yourself with dipping your toes back into your hobbies - heck, even walking your next door neighbour’s golden retriever to clear your head - it never quite leaves you, awakening something deep and dormant in you that never goes away.

Snapping out of your syrupy daze, you adorn yourself in your finest line dance clothing, slipping on your gingerbread cowboy boots before you’re tying bows in the pigtails of your hair. Your mother yells down the stairs for you and you leave in a flash, kissing her goodbye as she drops you off at Punch and Judy’s, your jewellery clinking together as you walk through the main entrance.

Much like your first night back, the bar is illuminated in dim light and sharp LED lights of varying colours. Cowboy hats dominate the sea of customers, the building crowd of the bar dressed in shades of denim and tired leather cowboy boots. Knowing the others have already arrived, saving a spot at a nearby booth, you decide to make your way to the bar first, ordering your signature berries-flavoured cider, to which Punch (co-owner) makes quick work of, the cold beverage in your hands before you can blink.

“Beer not to your liking, sugar?” A smoky, mellow voice grabs your attention.

You spare a glance at the source of the gravel voice, eyes long lingering as they capture the image of a face that stirs a flip in the pits of your stomach. The man stood beside you braces his muscular arms against the hickory brown of the wooden bar, his sleepy chocolate eyes trained on yours as he takes a swig of his tequila flavoured Desperado beer. Locks of umber messily cascade along his face, unless tucked away in his vintage black cowboy hat that ties together the rugged cowboy look he presents with the sweet addition of his light stubble. To make things worse, he’s stupidly fit, his black t-shirt clinging to the curves of his muscles like second skin. If it were up to you, you’d-

“Like what you see?”

The smug comment snaps you out of your hazy olge, a pout forming upon your lips with an accompanying knit in your eyebrows. You make a point to angrily grab at your pint glass, ingesting a big gulp of the sugary alcohol whilst the rugged cowboy laughs to himself.

Even his laugh is attractive. Sick bastard.

“Coming from a man drinking a Desperado? Funny,” you have to laugh at whatever lame attempt of making conversation this man is pulling, Punch masking his misplaced laughter behind a cough as he polishes a pint glass. “How flirtatious you are.”

You admit, your latter remark is more bark than bite, a quick chirp that refuses to feed his ego yet grab his interest all at the same time. The ruse proves to work in your favour as the sexy cowboy gives another one of his huffed laughs, his body turned towards yours.

“Give me a chance, sugar. Just tryna start the night off right,” he counters, so brazenly confident in himself that you don’t know whether to laugh or shy away from his prying eyes. “Tequila beer and beautiful company - sounds about perfect to me.”

You react in a juxtaposition, eyes rolling and cheeks flushing as you divert your line of sight away from the handsome man flirting with you at your hometown bar. Perhaps, he’s some city folk travelling through the town, fancying himself a good time at Punch & Judy’s weekly hoedown Fridays, a little bit of flirting on the side to inflate his ego and keep his blood pumping. Whatever reason explains his presence, you are not one to complain. Your love life isn't very entertaining to put it mildly, so you're willing yourself not to get swept up in his caramel eyes.

Against the wishes of your quickening heart, you decide to give Mr. Handsome Traveller the time of day, body shifting as you face each other finally. “You don’t quit, don’t you?”

He cocks an eyebrow your way, something sneaky and sugary in the lines of his smile. A brief pause follows his actions, the soft rustic sounds of old town country murmuring from the jukebox nearby filling up in the space between your figures. It’s when he’s about to make yet another cocky comment that your conversation is put on pause.

Connor’s voice calls your name, head turning to find your best friend standing in between you and the Punch & Judy’s cowboy of the night, eyes wide and expectant as they shift back and forth in the middle of your standing figures.

“Dew, forget about Desperados tonight. The lady in bows will have your head otherwise.” Handsome Traveller nods his chin towards you, humour dancing in his smile as he snickers into his half-full glass.

Then, it dawns on you. Dew? One of the handful of nicknames Connor’s adopted over the course of his livelihood. So, they’re acquaintances? Or closer? Your eyes frantically search for social clues to point you in the right direction.

“The lady in bows is my best friend,” Connor explains, a bite to his words as his eyes glare a knowing look at Sexy Cowboy. He then goes on to face you, gaze softening almost immediately as his head tilts in his friends (?) direction. “This is Brandon, or Dewey One.”

Oh. Makes sense, you rationalise. This is Brandon, Connor’s close friend and teammate on his current team out in Minnesota, the one who gets into fights he can’t win on the ice whilst Connor trails nearby picking up his fallen gear. The one he told you a couple of days ago that was coming up to visit. And, of course you were flirting with him.

Of. Course.

“Dewey One?” you ask, minorly deflecting from your embarrassment and still genuinely curious.

Connor inhales, as if to speak but Brandon beats him to it.

“Brandon’s just fine,” he interjects, expression unassuming as Connor’s eyes put his visiting friend underneath a microscope. “Nice to meet you, darling.”

Normally, you’d wrinkle your nose at the sometimes sleazy pet name Brandon casually calls you, except this time round you find it more amusing than cringe-worthy, which is how you find yourself grinning as you two exchange a handshake that testifies to how strong Brandon is. You clear your throat to stop the circus unfolding within you.

“Come on,” Connor gestures over to you to follow suit. “Can’t keep ‘em waiting.”

You call out an agreement over your shoulder as you go to grab your drink, the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention as a close whisper brushes past your ears.

“I ain’t no quitter, sugar.”

The next couple of hours are spent packed into a crimson leather booth that peels at the ends, going from topic to topic over many a pints. Brandon fits so easily into your group, his infectious energy illuminating as he takes up space without regard, his confidence more enticing than suffocating. Everyone seems to be in good spirits as the alcohol keeps flowing and as you sit back, careful eyes watching your friends engage in conversation, you wish for this to be your forever for as long as you'd like for it to be.

A nudge against your shoulder turns your head, greeted by Connor’s sage eyes. “You ready for Judy’s Line Dance?”

His rhetorical question draws a laugh from you. “You say that like I don’t do this every time I come back.”

“Yeah, but if you were ready then, you would’ve brought your cowboy hat,” comments Connor, his veiny hands grasping gently at the ends of your braided pigtails accented with a bow. “What? Wanted to show off your pretty bows?”

He thumbs the ends of your hair, engrossed in the strands and its feel and for some reason, the casual intimacy of the moment inflates something in your chest, a balloon about to burst as you forcibly breathe in and out, clearing your throat afterwards. “They're my favourite accessories.”

Connor huffs, corners of his lips lifting gingerly as he continues his motions with his hands whilst your body remains rigid with the exception of your racing heart and crimsoning cheeks.

Your mother has definitely planted a seed you cannot unroot.

“Yeah, you’re almost always wearing them in your BeReal. posts. They’re real cute.”

For a fact you know so well, Connor’s confession comes as a pleasant surprise, one that shallows your breaths and quickens your pulse. It makes you reflect back on before, when all was platonic and the comment wouldn’t have made you bat an eyelash. Now, your skin tingles and you’re struggling to find the words to encapsulate your affection past your dry mouth. So, like many others in your position, you settle for a safe reply.

“Aren’t you a charmer?” you roll your eyes, brushing off his grasp because you might combat otherwise, projecting your attention ahead of you to come face-to-face with Brandon, who despite the engaging conversation he shares with Owen, his eyes skirt over to you.

You look away, even more flustered than before.

It’s just your luck when you hear Judy’s tap incessantly against an old microphone that you have something else to hold your focus, eyes brimming with glee as she announces the dances for the night and their updated partner songs. Last time you were here, they were still playing their beloved country hits and you danced along thanks to the amounts of alcohol you consumed, but their new playlist of pop hits within the past decade or so, you’re more motivated than ever to tear apart the dance floor.

“If you ain’t shy to do a little two step, please make your way to the dancefloor please.” Judy grins into her mic, tipping her cowboy hat as patrons make their way over to the illuminated space.

Connor makes way for you to exit the booth, your boots hitting the ground as you iron out any kinks in your outfit. Amidst your actions, you catch other movements out of the corner of your eyes, to which you find Connor playing with the ends of your bow this time round. There’s always been something so sweet and tender about him - in the way clouds are amongst a blue sky, in the way laughter spills over so easily in the presence of a found family and in how harmonies make you feel as if you're floating. But, it’s never been like this before, this intense and vivd. In a way that rids you of all thought and scares you beyond your deepest fears all at once. You’re still finding your footing in this new territory, a plain that speaks to the existence of your feelings but has no road nor destination. It’s a simple plain you seek to find some end to, picking up clues along the way that predetermine what the future holds. At the beginning, the animosity scared you pale and grey. Now, the end is what grasps your fear in a fierce chokehold. To pry yourself from the jaws of unhinged anxiety, you allow yourself to relax, to seep into the present and take it for what it's worth because the end is unknown and you’re not there yet. Not by any measure of time, you hope.

“Kick butt out there, rockstar.” His big smile deepens the soft lines of his face, a pure display of pride in his features as he gives you a pat on the back and gives way for you to shine.

It’s small, insignificant in the grand scale of things, but your smile deepens too and you nearly float to the dancefloor, adrenaline rushing through your body as the DJ prepares the upcoming music.

As you settle in line, you feel a light pressure lay upon the crown of your head, eyes darting to find Charlotte in the line next to you, giving you a wink before she faces forwards, thumbs slotted through the loops of her flare jeans. Her straw cowboy hat no longer, you reach up to find said object upon your head and with a chuckle behind your hand, your thumbs hang on your belt loops and let the music guide you.

It’s only when you’ve done your first turn that you realise that Brandon has also decided to join the line dance, huffs of amusement sounding from you as he glides and slides with a confidence dusted with his normal dash of comedy.

When Judy announces it's time for the partner dance, it’s your cue to catch your breath as you plan to evacuate the dancefloor. As mentioned earlier by Charlotte, the pretty sandy brown haired man who’d bought her a drink earlier in the night circles his arms around her waist as she gives him a smitten grin. You beam at the endearing sight, about to make your way towards your booth but are stopped in your tracks as a calloused hand clasps around your wrist.

Brandon’s expression is more sheepish than you’ve ever seen, his eyes distracted as they wander away from you. You raise an eyebrow.

“Who says the night has to end here, sugar?” His voice trembles partially, its edge lost in the coyness lining his smile as he finally looks at you with a dazzle of hope in his eyes.

A momentary pause delays your response, the moment used to turn the cogs in your head and sneak a glance back at your booth, where Connor was last you saw him, eyes trained on you as he simply watches the interaction. Under the weight of his gaze, a creeping sense of embarrassment climbs up your back, scolding the skin. You’re about to give your reply when the music starts up and Brandon speaks again.

“Put this desperado out of his misery and allow me this one dance?”

It’s so cheesy, maybe even idiotic - the words he proposes to you but he’s trying and that’s what appeals to you most, warms your heart and sways your response as you send him a nod that has Brandon cheesing ear to ear, his hand leading the way as you two fall in line.

You haven’t had much experience line dancing with a partner, the closest experience to this being a night you barely remember, happily back sliding with a fifty year old local in your college town bar who wanted to feel young again. Regardless of the fact, there’s no time to mull it over as the music already starts and your fingers are interlocking, matching up with the rest of the duos as you dance, cowboy boots stomping as you make a scene.

In all the commotion of heavy stops and ongoing thumps of Rihanna’s ‘S&M’, Brandon manages to catch your attention, mirroring your movements to a tee.

“You and Connor don’t do this much, do you?” he queries.

“You kidding me? Connie has two left feet, I’d be left for dead if it wasn’t for Charlotte.” You yell over the blaring upbeat country music, arms extended as Brandon glides you further away from his figure.

“Good thing I’m here tonight.” jesters Brandon, and you laugh along because you’re tipsy and having a lot more fun than you imagined.

Despite your familiarity with the dance routine you two execute to a tee, you’re caught off guard when Brandon brings you inwards, bracing you against his hard chest before his arm circles around the circumference of your lower back, holding you steady as he dips your body slightly. Your foot is kicked out, your (Charlotte’s) straw hat’s fallen to the scuffed dancefloor and you’ve just had the wind knocked straight out of you, eyes feverishly searching for answers as the bar falls to a hush.

You’re looking in each other’s eyes now, chest heaving and high off the adrenaline pumping through your veins from all that dancing. All time ceases to exist and it’s just two of you, sharing laboured breaths and looking for any cues for how this will end. It appears as if you’re in your own head at this point, combing through a thousand possibilities all at once to respond however you see fit. Thankfully for you, Brandon breaks the silence.

“One night and one night only.”

The sentence sends shivers down your spine and you’re pretty sure Brandon feels you quiver in his arms as he gives a brief chuckle, hauling you up onto your two feet and bringing you back to reality. You don’t really find their footing after that.

The rest of your time at Punch & Judy’s passes by in a flash, more pints being consumed over your group’s loud chatter as the night stretches on. Charlotte and her blue eyed companion indulge in another dance before he’s whisking her back to the bar and paying for everyone’s next set of drinks - bless his heart. He introduces himself as Jack, a new face in town and as he and the boys exchange pleasantries, the wild eyed non-verbal dialogue you engage in pieces together Charlotte’s sentiment and if it isn’t enough, when Jack makes his departure, she gives him a kiss on the cheek and bides him a coy farewell, a promise to meet in the next coming days on her tongue. One thing is certain, when Jack makes his exit from the bar, the door shutting behind him, you’re yelling and shaking each other’s shoulders in glee, stupidly happy and sharing that with one another.

Your table has their last drinks and before you know it, you’re being squeezed into the back of Owen’s pickup truck, sandwiched between Charlotte and Connor whilst Owen and Brandon sit up front. Over the murmured sounds of slow alternative music, you get bits and pieces of their conversation, the two excitedly talking about their shared love for Legos and the most they’ve splurged on one set. You shake your head with a laugh, going to share your merriment with Charlotte, only to find her soundly asleep, a light snore bypassing her punch pink lips.

“How you holdin’ up, champ?” Connor’s low voice draws you in, a slight head turn in his direction. “Don’t think I’ve seen you dance like that since we were ten and begging our parents to have a sleepover.”

The image is so vivid in your brain, two wide eyed kids that held hands as they begged and pleaded to have a sleepover, only for their polite request to be refused. Taking matters into your own hands, you dragged your parents’ big hands into the living room, where in front of them and an oblivious Connor, turned on MTV and danced to some popular song of the time. Lucky for you, it worked. Unluckily, Connor would hold that over your head forever onwards.

You’re cringing into your hand, face mangled in discomfort as you wish away the reality of you doing that away. “One of us had to convince them. Plus, it worked, didn’t it?”

“I can’t argue with that,” Connor laughs behind a fist before his hand falls to his side, a moment of quiet between you two. “You and Brandon seem to be hitting it off.”

A single eyebrow raises to express your confusion, perplexed frown prominent not because of his statement which is completely true, but because there’s an edge to his voice - something unfamiliar and cold in the way he says his words - a tone you’ve yet to hear, even after all these years. Uncertain how to proceed, you choose to be cautious about the matter, selecting your words carefully.

“He’s nice,” you state, because Brandon is but something in you twists uncomfortably, feels the recognizable pangs of embarrassment as you’re subjected to uttering this out loud. Or rather, in front of Connor. A betrayal of some sorts. “You were right about him fitting right in with us.”

There’s a strange shift in the air in the backseat of the car, the once peaceful quiet now becoming increasingly heavy and awkward as your words hang in the air like knives. Connor absorbs your words, stare averted as he watches his fingers fiddle with the lock of the door on the windowsill. You run your palms against the material of your denim shorts because you don’t know what to do with them otherwise.

It’s only when you’ve scratched the back of your neck, eyes stiffly roaming the interior of the car that Connor replies. “Yeah..I guess I just didn’t know how well.”

You’re about to ask him what he means by that, going to press him but Owen’s suddenly shut off the truck, his blinding interior lights turning on and him killing the ignition, alerting you of your arrival. Connor climbs out before your vision reverts back to normal, so you put the matter on pause and softly wake up Charlotte who sheepishly wipes away dried drool at the corner of her lips and climbs out the pick-up with you. You’re about to shut the door behind you, though someone beats you to it.

“I got it.” Brandon’s husky voice sounds from behind you, the slam of the door following.

You send an appreciative smile his way, perhaps a bit of timidity mixed in there too, turning to include Charlotte in any possible conversation to come, only to find her halfway up the porch stairs of Connor’s house.

How is it always the two of you left alone?

“Let’s head in, it’s chilly out here.” suggests Brandon, you falling in line with his request as the beginnings of goosebump dot your arms, the roughness of your skin hitting an all time high as Brandon’s large hand falls to the small of your back, guiding you up the stairs into the cosy and quaint house.

Hums of conversation lead from the back porch of Connor’s house, the presence of your friends known as you wordlessly navigate your way through the halls of Connor’s house, hallways and framed pictures you’ve committed to memory. When you’ve made your way to the kitchen, you find Owen nursing a cool bottled water, hair tousled and cheeks dusted in pink.

“There you two are,” announces Owen, fingers threading through the waves of his brown hair. “Everyone’s out back - apparently, Quinn’s out back too.”

You waste no time beelining for the backyard, the sudden weight of your reality dawning on you the second you stepped through Connor’s doorway, a cold shower of water easing you out of the mirage you’ve impulsively floated in. Once you’re outside, the cool air sinking into your skin, you spying the usual suspects - Quinn, Charlotte and Connor gathered together around a fire Quinn boasts about making. His glee is short lived.

“That boy scouts training finally coming in handy, huh?” Charlotte banters, a suppressed smirk sneaking amongst her features as she takes a seat in one of the camping chairs surrounding the fire.

“You laugh now but when you need someone to tie an impossible knot and survive off the land, don’t come running to me.” responds Quinn, taking a swig of his beer as Charlotte holds her hands up in surrender, laughing regardless.

You’re about to turn on your heels to head back inside, retrieving a beverage of your own, but a familiar call of your name is stopping you in your tracks.

“I’ve got your cider here,” alerts Connor, expression indifferent as he approaches you to hand off a can of your favourite berry cider and a bottle of water. “Blankets are on the chairs too.”

It’s embarrassing how much you want to melt into this man’s arms right now. Nonetheless, for reasons you know all too well, you express your gratitude in a toothy grin that he mirrors with a closed mouth, pulling you down into the camping chair beside his.

Soon enough, Brandon and Owen are sitting round the fire too and your night ends like this, light-hearted discussions under the stars as the heat from the open flame soothes your heavy eyelids closed. Whilst you’re mildly awake, you don’t miss the glances you and Bradon trade over the sandstone fire, loaded questions in his eyes. Had this been any other occasion, any other person not linked to Connor, any other reality where your current feelings didn’t exist for Connor, then there would be no questions asked, blossoms of wine doting both your necks come tomorrow morning. Alias, these were not the conditions and simply lounged in your camping chair, hoping Brandon didn’t look your way every time Connor’s hand would play with the bows in your hair.

Arm hanging out of his shiny porcelain white pick-up truck, Brandon squints as the rays from the blistering sun reflect into his eyes. Having said their goodbyes earlier, Connor and Brandon dab each other up with good-natured smiles before Brandon throws his focus over to you, standing with a bit more awkwardness than you’d like.

“Take care, Lady in bows,” Brandon says, a well-mannered nod sent your way with a closed mouth smile. “Don’t give Dewey a hard time. He’ll come round.”

For a split second, you’re eyeing him as if his face contains all the answers, but when he gives you that knowing look, the same one Charlotte and your mother give you any time Connor’s name is mentioned - you know. Know all too well and blush as a result, head snapping behind you to see if Connor’s within earshot. Thankfully, he’s in the middle of chatting with his brother, hands in his pocket as Quinn points off into the distance. You circle back to Brandon, the apples of his cheeks clear as day as he snickers like he’s been told a secret.

It’s as if this best kept secret brings you infinitely closer, your walls falling as you begin to bare the depth of your sentiment surrounding Connor. There’s no more beating around the bush, so you lower your head as you kick at the rocks at your feet. “You think so?”

You hate how small your voice comes out, meek and questioning everything known to man. It’s unfamiliar and not to mention, uncomfortable in every aspect of the word. Alias, Brandon sees you - catches the vulnerability you’ve shared with him and embraces you with a kindness that ushers a relieved sigh from you as he responds back.

“I’d bet my NASA Space Shuttle lego set on it.” Brandon banters, smirk soft and small.

So, he’s serious. Very serious, it seems because you know how treasured the item is to him. You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“Thanks, Brandon,” you breath, coyness coating your cheeks as your hands fall behind your back, your fingers tangling. “Don’t go fighting no alligators.”

“We can only hope,” Brandon gives his side-door a smack, rounding up everyone’s attention. “I’m hitting the road, fellas. Enjoy the fair for me, yeah?”

A chorus of agreements go off from behind you before Brandon gives one more salute, speeding off into the canary yellow sun. The small crowd outside Connor’s house disperses and regroups again later on that day, refreshed and ready to attend the local fair held every summer and the highlight of the year.

The fair lives up to its expectations, grand and joyful with a variety of rides ranging from teacups to a catapult-like ride that swings back and forth and then upside down. You’re distracted by all the colours, the sights and sounds that you’re so oblivious to what goes on right before you, until your vision is shrouded in black and your face is submerged in fluff.

Retracting, you blink your eyes to adjust to the change in lighting, lips parting as you stare at the massive latte-coloured teddy bear that Connor presents to you, the rest of your friends nearby taking their turns at the darts board way ahead of them.

He must see you struggle to find the words, his grin infectious as he jests, “I think I’ve finally out-conned the concessionaires.”

You must look like an idiot, or a deer in the headlights as Charlotte jokes, disbelief strikingly apparent on your face as you reach for the souvenirs, the fluffy animal so cosy in your arms and melting your heart into a big puddle of goo. “Thank you, Con.”

“Don’t mention it.” a smile plays tenderly on his lips, the sheer kindness he captures in his sage eyes enough to make your pulse race and head spin.

After the thoughtful gesture, your high spirits cannot be tamed as you indulge in every little thing your heart desires - laughing a little harder, smiling a little wider and stuffing your cheeks full of hearty food that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Charlotte basks in your glee, speaking of a glow you radiate as she snaps photos of your stuffed cheeks, a knowing smirk on her lips as she hands you your teddy bear once your food is finished. You don’t reply, exchanging words through your glances as you make your way towards the second bit of rides the boys want to try.

“Wait, isn’t that…?”

As Quinn’s voice trails off into the distance, you find yourself turning in the exact direction where he directs your view, eyes landing on a pair of figures - one being Connor and the other being, Amelia, Connor’s ex-girlfriend from high school and most notably, his last girlfriend. Her waves of blond hair glisten in the sunshine, something like a Renaissance painting. Her smile bright and wide as she greets Connor with an enthusiastic hug, a hug you feel lasts longer than necessary.

They then go on to immerse themselves in conversation, and for the life of you, you can’t look away - pry your jealous eyes away nor dry swallow this bitter pill because she’s still so into him. Hands familiar and all over him, leaning in when she gets the chance and beaming like she’s won the lottery. In all fairness, her life’s been such a tale - excelling academically, incredibly driven in all sports and other extracurricular activities that garnered her attention. And such a kind spirit too, always there to help no questions asked that it made you physically sick that you could foster any ill feelings towards her, because she’s such a light and maybe Connor would see that too. As he did when they were together.

You’re too busy losing yourself in a sea of self pity that you don’t notice Charlotte's attempts to snag your attention nor other things at first, your illegitimate fears getting the best of you but as your posture stoops, your eyes floating everywhere around the busy fair that it pauses on Connor’s figure. Once immersed in conversation, he appears distracted, indifferent somehow as his attention wanders, wanders over to you as his line of sight floats over to you from time to time as the conversation stretches on. At first, you think it’s your mind playing tricks on you, feeding into delusions that’ll soothe your pity party, but at some point, he holds your gaze, giving Amelia a pat on the back before he’s jogging over to where your friendship group is, not even uttering a word as he slots himself between you and Owen.

“What was that about?” Quinn just has to ask.

“Oh, Amelia just wanted to catch up,” he sounds distracted, his mind elsewhere but you don’t dare to indulge, your sight directed elsewhere as you grip onto the plush teddy bear as if it were a lifeline. “She says hi, by the way.”

You don’t do much listening after that, tuning out all the colours and sounds of the fair as you ride the highs and lows of what your life has become.

A sense of urgency plagues you from that day forth, a hurriedness in your actions as your anxieties get the better of you, going from lounging around in day old pyjamas covered in crumbs and mystery stains to getting a head start on your master’s personal statement and running every errand you’ve been procrastinating. Your parents swear you’ve become a different person - venturing outside the house before noon to visit the bank to change your address or go get your car serviced. Perhaps seeing Connor with Amelia was the jump start you needed to stop relishing in instant gratification, distracting yourself from facing any sort of music that pertained to the future and all its question marks. You still hang out with the others, more so Charlotte as you spend a few afternoons at the lake with one another, feet dangling into the water as she updates you on her adventures with Jack.

It’s the first time someone’s pursued her with such sincerity and charm that she’s hesitant about his authenticity. And yet from the sounds of it, Jack doesn’t mind one bit and shows his patience as they get to know each other, the smitten man taking your best friend on dates that further solidify their connection. You couldn’t be any happier for your best friend, this kind of treatment a long time coming, all of which you express just to see her blush and dive into the cold lake water to avoid further talks. You chase after her, teasing her mercilessly as the thoughts still linger at the back of your mind - your own sentiment with regards to Connor and what has come from the change of heart.

Emotional anguish and so much fear you’re not sure what to do with yourself. It takes a week of mulling things over, his missing presence due to off-season hockey training for you to make up your mind, peeling into his driveway and hiding your apprehension behind a strained smile as he greets you at the door. You preoccupy every bit of silence with running chatter, because you don’t want to hear yourself think, a multitude of topics discussed over vodka pasta you make together before you’re finding your way into his bedroom, the early evening sky greeting you as he flicks on his buttermilk bedside lamp.

He brings out his guitar, the same one you gifted Connor two years ago at the height of his newly-found hobby and plucks the strings, creating a melody you compel yourself to relax into, somehow ending up sandwiched in between him and the guitar as he directs your fingers to play one of your favourite songs, just because.

Apparently, your shaky hands don’t make for good playing material.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, you cold or something?” notes Connor, his looming presence over your body sending you into overdrive, your skin feverish and mind imploding from overwork.

“This is different.” you annouce, because it is. Unlike times before, it didn’t mean as much to be alone in his bedroom with him, getting glimpses into the life he’s lived and who he is as a person through all his possessions. You could handle the casual intimacy - the soft spoken whispers, the unprovoked kindness, the skin to skin contact that didn’t send your heart into a series of flutters. Now, all you can do is bat an eyelash, many at that, and this you must make known. For the selfish reasons you can think of.

“What d’ya mean?” he mumbles, clearly distracted and known the wiser to his breath fanning over your neck, goosebumps rising against your skin as your body grows rigid against his.

So acutely aware of your proximity, of the bursting feelings that thud at the confinement of your chest, your thoughts scatter like glass. “This, Connor. Being like this…with you.”

That strikes a chord with Connor, his motions ceasing altogether as his hands drop from the guitar and you’re forced to face the music. Sink your teeth into this undeniable truth that’s followed you all these years and you’ve been too blind to see. Confront the holy truth that maybe there was more divine work intertwined in your story with Connor, that maybe the universe wrote you two as one heart as opposed to two. That, as the summer days ticked by, the sun seeping into your skin, your love grew for Connor like molasse - slow and thick and palpable that once you were aware of its existence, that’s all that consumed you. Coated in his syrupy love, an endless desire.

You’re facing your best friend in spite of the hellish screams in your mind to play this off as some random mood swing, a joke even, because laughter follows you two everywhere, right? But, you know. Know better than anybody else that Connor knows you, like the back of his hand. Sees right through any charade you may jester him with, so any attempts to divert the conversation are as pointless as anything. Your confession starts and ends here.

A flicker of concern mixes in the dark of his eyes, hands clasped together with a crease in between his eyebrows. “I don’t follow.”

A full body sigh draws out of you, shoulders sagging and back curving, your hands casting aside the acoustic guitar with caution. You’re back to staring at each other, in the silence of the night, caged in between four walls that burn your eyes white as you once again grapple with your innumerable feelings and the finality of it all - this longing.

“Don’t you think,” you croak, question in your eyes as you look up at Connor, stifling any rise in emotion within you. “-this summer has been different?”

His sage eyes cast away, pink lips settling into a pout as he racks his brain for whatever answer you may be looking for. “No? Maybe? I don’t know.”

He adds on, looking back at you as he leans closer without fault. “Is this because it’s your last summer before you graduate?”

Connor’s got a point. When you’re trying to kid yourself into not having romantic feelings for your childhood best friend, your mind wanders to places where it has more control. Plans for after college, what modules you’ll be taking, what societies you want to join, what last things you’d like to cross off your list before you’re forced into full fledged adulthood. It’s a thought that lingers ever so presently at the back of your mind, like background music stuck on loop, but ultimately, Connor has missed his mark and you tell him so.

“Partially, but,” you wet your lips, struggling to find the words again as the burn against your cheeks proves to be insufferable. “This is what’s been on my mind more than anything else.”

Your point is accentuated by your single finger gesturing between the two of you, a poor attempt at best to foster some sort of confession of your romantic feelings. Because it's so scary, lending these thoughts your voice because they become much more real, spoken aloud for his ears to hear and his heart to see. For his heart to feel and what then? What awaits you once your confession reaches his ears? The unknown is scary, chilling to the bone and you wish to shroud yourself from it as long as there’s daylight.

There’s a beat before you hear Connor’s voice again. “What about us?”

Hearing him vocalise those three words makes the moment so real, so vividly intense that it sends chills down your spine and slows your laboured breath, the thump of your heart all you can hear aside from the ticking clock against Connor’s bedside table. It ticks and ticks, signifying the curtain call to your summer long charade.

“Connor, I..” It’s as if the magnitude of your feelings have manifested into some beast, with razor-like fangs and sharp claws that slash at the confinements of your chest, the words of love dying on the tip of your tongue as the moments hangs over your head like a gauntlet. You’ve never been so scared before, driven nearly to tears as your desperate hands grip at the material of your hoodie to ground yourself in some sort of way whilst you try to push yourself. To see this through until the very end and leave the destination unknown.

“We’ve been friends our entire lives. I don’t know anything beyond being with you and I never wanted to, and I feel like that means so much more than it did years ago,” his eyes are on you, undivided attention served on a silver platter that you turn away from, for its sincerity and shine. “Maybe, I did know deep down inside what I know now all those years ago. Like when I cried and begged for you not to leave the Pas. Or when you held my hand any chance you got when we were kids, or anytime you smiled at me really that let me know I always liked you. Maybe, even love you - I don’t know. But, what I do know is that I just couldn’t leave for Calgary without letting you know. Even if that means…”

You don’t have the heart to utter your next words, a dagger to the heart at even the possibility of losing your best friend and partner in crime. Perhaps, it isn’t worth saying - this whole grand love confession because this is a risk you’re not ready to face. However, despite your thundering heart against your bruised chest and however many times you’re second guessing yourself here, the weight lifted from your words is undeniable. An unspoken truth that had been set free, that needed to be set free - whatever the fallout may be.

A snicker snaps you out of your deep seated fears, your scattered daze settling on the view before you, one you had least expected. Connor, eyes cast away from yours as he huffs into his hands, a laugh you’re undecided where it derives from.

“…Are you laughing at me right now?” You feel awful for even asking such a ridiculous question. At the same time, you’ve just been as vulnerable as you’ve ever been in your entire life - some hesitancy is to be expected.

At your question, Connor’s huffs of delight cease and stares at you at alarm, realising his mistake. “God, no. Fuck, I’m so sorry, I just-”

“You used to rub dirt on me, and now you're proclaiming your love for me,” an airy laugh puffs out of his moving chest, a mixture of disbelief and amusement painted amongst his chiselled features. “It’s a bit of an adjustment.”

He seems…happy? Relieved? You’re not really sure, but what you at least find peace in is that there’s no sunken look about him, no expression worn that conveys disappointment and hurt because that’s all you’d have to see to know where his heart lies.

“Good or bad?” you ask.

His eyes bounce back to yours, those same olive eyes you’ve spent years looking into, glimmer with a sparkle that you’ve yet to see and robs you of rational thinking as your heartbeat picks up the pace.

“Good,” he whispers, like it’s a secret for just the two of you - one that is small and fragile, but so special and cherished that it makes your heart squeeze. “Because, there’s no one else I’d rather be with. Not by a long shot.”

You swear you could cry, burst like a dam and drown in your tears that overflow with such joy and relief because this is it for you. So right and settled, being where you’ve always meant to be - so loved and treasured by the one person who knows you better than yourself, someone who’s seen you at your most awkward and at your worst, and loves you because he has. Because he’s seen it all and wants to spend the remainder of his life doing so, a conscious choice he makes everyday because he loves you and you love him.

You’re unsure how you’ve ended up like this, limbs curled up in your lover’s lap as he cups your cheeks, rough thumb caressing the skin as his love shines through his gaze that blows his iris’ out of view. He looks so beautiful like this, unabashed and vulnerable, secure in love and what destiny holds for you. He looks at you as if you colour his skies and spin his world round and just like that, you lose yourself in him. Thread your fingers through his strands of umber brown and kiss him like you mean it. Kiss him long and hard, and with everything you have because it’s long overdue, so needed that you melt into him, lips overlapping as you taste destiny on his tongue.

The story of you and him, a tale as old as time.

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