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milliesfishes · 1 month ago

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౨ৎ꣑ৎThe Road Not Taken౨ৎ꣑ৎ

꣑ৎ"There's an ache in you put there by the ache in me."꣑ৎ

౨ৎ꣑ৎ12 Days of Christmas Masterlist౨ৎ꣑ৎ [fem reader] contains: mental illness pairing: fem reader x alex nilsen summary: alex was your first real love and your first real heartbreak. so why have your parents invited him to their holiday party? author’s note: so...this was very hard for me to write for some reason, and I'm still not 100% about it but it is done and here and I hope it is good Spotify Playlist

The journey from the airport was a nostalgic trick.

Every road, every business, every traffic light was tainted by the past's glow. You weren't sure if you should stare into it or turn away. Your parents chatted excitedly in the front seats while you sat staring out the window, feeling as though you were universes away from them.

The skies were blue, the fresh layer of snow trampled by footprints on the sidewalk and torn to slush on the roads, turning grey as tires rolled through it. People out walking were bundled in puffy coats, woolen hats covering their ears as they chattered, excitedly based on their expressions. Tinsel candy canes and bells interwoven with string lights decorated the street posts, the city's attempt at being festive. You smiled a bit at the sight.

"Camille made it down yesterday," your mother said, stretching and tilting her head back to look at you. "She and John are staying at a hotel so you can have your old bedroom."

"Is there something wrong with the guest room?" you asked absentmindedly, tilting your forehead so it was pressed against the cool glass, a welcome relief from the air blasting you turned up to the highest setting.

"No," your father said simply, and you shrugged, adjusting the neck of your sweater. You supposed if you had a fiancé you wouldn't want to sleep in your childhood home either.

As the car pulled into your street, you lifted your head, rubbing at the smudge your forehead left. The house you grew up in looked the same as always, down to the usual holiday decorations. You could practically see your father standing on the ladder, hooking the lights to the roof while your mother nervously held the ladder, yelling at him not to fall like Clark Griswold in Christmas Vacation.

You went to unload your bags but your father insisted, making you feel more like a guest than you'd like. As you carefully made your way up the steps, avoiding ice patches, you paused as your mother grabbed your elbow, pulling you close. "I wanted to tell you...Camille and John aren't the only ones we've invited for Christmas."

"Oh?" You began to sort through your mind who else they could have brought over. Your aunt, maybe, from California? She loved a palm tree covered in lights more than anything, so you weren't sure why she'd come all the way to the Midwest for Christmas. Even so, you felt a twinge of excitement at the thought. She was sure to diffuse any possible tension that came with family in close quarters.

Turning around, you saw a vaguely familiar car parked in the far part driveway that you hadn't noticed before. Your aunt would have flown first class to Ohio, but she'd grown up here, so maybe she'd borrowed an old friend's vehicle? Thinking of how smooth and charming she was, you supposed anything was possible.

"It'll be nice," you decided, looking at your mother. "To have someone else here."

"It will!" She patted your arm, beginning to walk with you up the porch steps again. "This is part of why your sister couldn't take the guest bedroom. We wanted it available. And she had no objections."

"I'm sure she didn't," you commented. John was a soon-to-be heart surgeon from a wealthy family. You were sure he and Camille were staying in the nicest place in town. Again, not that you could blame them.

Opening the door, you stepped inside and slipped off your shoes, inhaling the scent of the peppermint candle your mother always burned for the duration of the month. The smell comforted you, and a barrage of memories dragged over you like a tidal wave, You pushed the bad ones down and sorted through the montage of good. Hot chocolate and snowball fights and knitted scarves and pink wrapping paper.

Wandering toward the kitchen, you daydreamt of a hot tea after your long journey, the perfect remedy to whatever stress you'd brought with you from home. In your experience, there was no problem a hot drink couldn't fix. Not that being home was a problem but...oh well. You hummed as you opened the cabinet, turning around, your eyes widening.

The mug slipped from your hands, and you barely registered the distinct sound of a thousand tiny pieces separating themselves from one, bouncing on the floor around your feet and creeping into cracks and under places out of reach. All you could do was stare straight ahead.

Because Alex Nilsen was sitting in front of you, looking like he'd seen a ghost even though he was in your parents' house.

Holidays with your family came in a set of traditions, like Russian nesting dolls. One thing led to another until the famous party at the end on Christmas Eve. It was a classy affair, long upheld by your parents since before you and Camille were born. Other happenings were developed and kept over the years, creating the sequence you could see so clearly in your mind.

And it was all about to be dismantled by a puppy-eyed new addition.

"Ed's going to be with David for a few weeks," your mother had said, trying to soothe you in the living room after the incident. "And poor Alex couldn't leave with the end of the school term. The Nilsens have been to their fair share of Christmas activities with us before-"

"But why isn't he at his own place?" you whispered, eyes darting to the living room entrance. "He lives close, doesn't he?"

"His apartment flooded," she explained, and you nodded once, biting your cheek. Of course it did. "So we offered for him to come stay here for now, since he's going to be with us so often for the next bit anyways."

"Right." You nodded, trying to remain calm. "Okay. Fine. This is fine."

"We thought you'd be happy about it." Your mother frowned, touching your elbow. "You used to be so close..."

"Yes. Yeah." You interjected, folding your arms over yourself. Push it down. Push it down. "It's fine. It'll be great. It was nice of you to invite him."

You hadn't told many people what happened. Maybe if your parents had known, they wouldn't have asked him over. They still would, you thought bitterly as you unpacked your things that night. You couldn't stop thinking about the unexpected houseguest sleeping down the hall. Was he thinking about you?

The thoughts were overwhelming. They plagued you even as you tried to sleep, tossing and turning in your time capsule of a room. You were turned to the side, facing away from your old bulletin board. The pictures hadn't been replaced since your senior year of high school, and you could feel their eyes on you even in the dark.

You didn't mean to sleep late, but it was past noon when you woke up, eyes still heavy. Lying in bed, one arm flung over your head, you strained your ears for the sounds of the house, but found none. It was quiet, a fairly unusual occurrence.

Pulling on a too-big sweatshirt and leggings, you trudged downstairs, pulling your hair back on the way. Alex was in the kitchen, and you gave him a half smile, opening the cabinet. You were determined to make a cup of tea without dropping the mug this time.

"Your parents went to lunch with Camille and John," he said behind you, tone light. "They'll all be back later."

"I see," you said casually, setting your mug in the microwave and pressing a few buttons. Turning, you found Alex with his laptop open on the table, blinking up at you.

Time is a funny thing. It seems to lengthen things, suggest change, but you could have sworn nothing about him did. If he was a map, you could have drawn him from memory and not one bit would be different. Hair, eyes, hands, nose, mouth. You didn't know if he felt the same.

He cleared his throat, leaning back in his seat. You tilted yourself back, trying not to slide in your fuzzy socks on the floor. "You're teaching here?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding once. "I like it. Same high school we went to."

A tiny smile quirked your lips up. Of course. You knew from your mother, but you had wanted to hear it from him. That he'd stayed.

Alex drummed his fingers on the table, waiting until after the microwave went off and you took the mug out to ask, "You're in Seattle now?"

"I am." You adjusted the string of your tea bag so you didn't have to look at him. "I've been there for a couple of years."

"Ah." Another bout of silence had you itching to race out of the kitchen, but you held it together. Be an adult.

You continued, trying to keep it casual. "My parents were a little upset that I didn't move closer, but Camille's close, so it's okay." You swallowed. "Her fiance's a-"

"Heart surgeon. Yeah, your mom mentioned it," he said, and you bit the inside of your cheek. He was studying you in that intrinsic Alex way. "She seems really excited about it."

"Very," you responded, taking a sip of your tea and daring to meet his eyes. Once you did, you immediately regretted it. He had a way about him that felt as though he could see straight to your secrets. "He's been really good for her. For Camille."

"She's doing better?" Alex asked, still watching you.

You swallowed. "Yeah. She's doing a lot better."

"Good," he said, and you looked into your tea for a second, unsure what else to say. Just when you were about to leave, he continued. "Look...I'm sorry. For showing up like this. I thought you knew about it-"

"It's fine." You shook your head, meeting his eyes again, giving him a small smile. "Really. It is. It...everything was a long time ago."

"It was," he agreed, eyebrows furrowing. "But it still-"

"I'm going to shower," you interjected, turning and starting to leave. "I'll be back down later." Without waiting for an answer, you trailed away, heart pounding in your ears.

It was more evidence nothing had changed. He was supposed to be a stranger now, but he pulled you right back in. A force of magnetism, just how he'd always been. And just like before, he made your heart beat differently, like it had found its other half.

He had been that. Someone you loved. And a secret voice inside you said that you hadn't stopped. Was that why you could hardly look at him? Why even the sight of him sent you into a spiral, guilt flooding you like a dam burst open? The one person you wanted to tell about it was downstairs where you'd left him, after you'd brushed him off like a stranger.

You avoided him all afternoon until you couldn't anymore, when the tell-tale signs of your parents' voices wafted upstairs, keys rattling, footsteps loud. Reluctantly, you began to wander in their direction, taking your sweet time with every step. For some reason, you were nervous, tense about it. Camille's pretty laugh pierced the air, and you took a deep breath before walking in, keeping a smile on your face. You're happy to see her.

"Hi!" she squealed, pulling you into a hug. You returned it, relaxing a little. This is your sister. You love her. It's okay.

"Hi Cami," you muttered, and she beamed, stepping aside so you could greet her fiancé. You hugged him too- he was famously good at it. "Hi John."

"You look so pretty," she gushed, looking over you. Smiling tightly, you took in her soft sweater and designer earrings. "We've gotta go shopping sometime. I just found the cutest boutique in town that you'd love."

"Right," you said, stepping to the side, accidentally bumping Alex's shoulder.

"Look at you two," Camille giggled as John slid an arm around her. "It's just like in high school."

Alex and you shared a look, and you pursed your lips. He tried not to smile. "I guess it is."

"We got everything at the store for baking," John said, the tips of his fingers rubbing your sister's side. "I think we're making one of everything."

"That's how it goes," you smiled. Yours and Alex's shoulders were touching but neither of you made any move to separate.

Your mother called from the kitchen that the cookies weren't going to bake themselves, and you all trailed in, standing alert and waiting for your assignments. This was the first tradition in the holiday set- making enough cookies to feed a small nation. This kitchen had multiple ovens, and this was the main reason why. They were all preheating thanks to your mother, and she was separating ingredients into groups.

Predictably, you and Alex were put to work on one recipe, while your parents, John, and Camille tackled the other two. The kitchen was lively with both chatter and one of Frank Sinatra's Christmas albums in the background. Camille was telling a story about how she'd accidentally ordered a tree that was far too tall for her and John's living room, and your parents were laughing along across the counter with them.

It was easy to feel disconnected like this. They were all here, and you were off in the big city, the one who left. The outsider. Even though you'd been raised here just the same as your sister, it all felt like a story from somewhere else. Somehow you were an intruder, a guest, where she was at home.

Alex bumped your hip with his, and you nearly melted. He said it quietly, and you knew the others wouldn't be able to hear it. "Do you think he's ever going to let go of her?" You looked at John, who was cracking an egg with his hand on Camille's waist.

A giggle bubbled up out of your mouth, and suddenly it was as if the tension had never been there at all. You looked at Alex with bright eyes, heart fluttering a little. It was him. You'd forgotten your best friend somehow, and as you watched him start to laugh with you, you realized you never wanted to again.

"If he lets go it's cause he's kissing her," you whispered back, and he grinned.

"Should we try it?" When you raised your eyebrows, he flushed and clarified, "I meant baking with one hand."

You gave him a daring look. "We might have to scrape char off our cookies."

"Worth it," he said, and you giggled again, the pieces of you and him falling back into place.

"Let's do it," you decided, holding up your arm. As if reading your mind, he linked his own through it, and you turned back to the ingredients, trying to ignore the press of his elbow to yours.

Reaching for the vanilla, you set the appropriate teaspoon on the counter, methodically uncapping the bottle with your one free hand and pouring carefully, only spilling a few drops on the counter. Next to you, Alex was struggling with the sugar, dipping the measuring cup into the container and trying to delicately shake it so there wasn't too much on top.

"Having trouble?" you giggled, watching him spill for the third time.

"I'm not using my dominant hand," he pointed out, and you squeezed his forearm without thinking, eyes glued to his labored movements. "But I think I've got- there!" It wasn't perfect, but there wasn't as much overfill. He poured it in, and you did the same with your vanilla.

As you struggled to effectively add ingredients, laughing at the missteps, you felt lighter than you had in a long time. Being here with him somehow erased the worry that had plagued you lately, over being home and feeling like a stranger looking through a window to your family.

He'd been that way for you in college too. Always over to study or make dinner, your home away from home. You'd been so nervous about missing Linfield, but he had been everything good about it. It was glaring at you in neon letters. If what you had before was a dying flower, with a single bump of his hip it was nourished back to life.

Sliding your first sheet of cookies into the oven, one of each of your hands on either side, you found your mind bubbling up with a million things you wanted to say to him. You thought of all the times you'd picked up your phone to send a picture of something wild you saw in the city to him, every time all you'd wanted to do was call and hear his voice.

You'd missed him. More than you'd thought.

Alex set the timer and nudged you gently with his elbow. "We're each gonna need one oven mitt."

Your heart fluttered again. He smiled at you. On the other side of the counter, your parents, Camille, and John burst into laughter.

"Oh yeah, the power went out and when we opened the fridge, water came out."

"I really thought that snow was gonna make it to July."

Alex laughed, tilting his head and stretching his legs out on the couch, underneath your bent ones. You pulled the sleeves of your sweater over your hands, giggling. He set his mug down on the coffee table. "Do you get much snow in Seattle?"

"A bit," you said, tilting your head to rest on the couch. "Not near as much as here. Or maybe it feels different because it's in the city."

The tree was twinkling in the corner of the room, and the TV was on, playing your favorite Christmas movie. Ever since cookie night, you'd spent a lot of time together like this- binging Christmas movies and gorging on chocolate, conversation wandering aimlessly. If you weren't doing that, you were traipsing behind your family at whichever activity you were at. Sledding, shopping, caroling. You began to know him again.

At first it'd been a little more formal. You'd sat further apart, shoulders barely touching. It had only taken a day or so for you to fall back into your old habits. It felt as though all was right with the world after that.

You'd just gotten home from another tradition- driving around to see the lights. There hadn't been enough room in your parents' car for all of you, so you and Alex drove separately.

It turned out to be fun- the two of you laughing and watching the lights blink in time to a radio station. When you shivered, he had immediately started to fiddle with the vents, taking your hand in his and blowing warm air. The gesture made you smile.

The two of you had bailed long before everyone else, deciding to head home and warm up. You made peppermint hot chocolate and he found the movie, getting out blankets and turning the fireplace on.

When you came over with matching mugs, he'd held out his arm, the space against his chest inviting and warm. Without a second thought, you'd positioned yourself close, tucking yourself into him. He was always so cozy to lay against, several nights from college evidence.

"I've missed this," he mumbled, and you smiled at that, scratching your fingers on his chest.

"I've missed it too." You nuzzled into his shoulder and he smiled, chin on your head. "I wish I could take it with me."

He was quiet for a moment, fingers drawing patterns on your arm. You were about to ask something else when he said, "You were brave to do it, you know? To get out."

"I don't know if I really left," you confessed, snuggling closer. "I spend so much time worrying about everything here."

"Yeah, I get that," he said, hand finding the top of your head and smoothing your hair. His arm rested on your shoulder, bent at the elbow. "That's what made me stay."

"There's no shame in it," you murmured, eyes on the movie as you thought. "You wanted to take care of your dad. You're doing what you love."

"It feels like I missed out sometimes," he said quietly, thumb following the line of your hair. "Everything's good here. But that's the thing. It's good. I was worrying for no reason."

Sitting up slightly, you faced him, searching his eyes. You knew every corner of him, it felt like. His ends and beginnings. His love and hate. And so you were purposeful when you said, "You know it would be okay, right? If you were to leave?" When his lips parted, you amended, "Not that staying is bad. Not at all. You did what felt right for you, but..." you searched his eyes, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. "It would be okay if you didn't want to be here forever."

There was a moment where he was just watching you, eyes soft in a way you remembered so well. He half-smiled, patting your waist. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Satisfied, you smiled and settled back against him. He adjusted his arm around you, and your sense of deja vu heightened. How many times had you laid like this with him, talking for hours about one thing or another? Breathing in and focusing again on the movie, you said, "I thought I would end up here. After everything with Camille and seeing how fragile it all was. But I left." Something tightened in your chest. "That sounds selfish."

Alex shook his head, squeezing your knee. "It's not. It's really not."

"I mean... you know what happened," you murmured. "They needed me." Your mind was spiraling now, plummeting to the depths of something you weren't able to stop. The tightness in your chest was suffocating, and you pressed your palm there. "And I left." The panic settled, and you said the last part simply. That's all it was. Simple.

Alex just watched you, his eyes solemn. You bit the side of your cheek. The way he looked at you hadn't changed one bit. His soulful eyes could pry the same secrets out of you if he wanted them to.

But he didn't push, didn't question. He just squeezed your side, pulling you back into him and letting you rest. You closed your eyes, trying not to cry. He was familiar. He was home. Alex leaned down, lips finding your hair. You laced your fingers through his, and he pulled your hand up to rest over his heart.

The feeling blanketed you like a fresh coat of snow, and you knew he was swathed in it too by the way he rubbed up and down your spine.

Footsteps. It was like your body knew something was wrong before you did. Sitting up, you turned your head to the open door, pushing away your laptop as your mother rushed by. "Mom?"

Coats sliding against each other, hangers clicking. You stood up, padding into the hallway and saying it again. "Mom?"

She looked at you briefly, seeming harried. "What?"

"Is something wrong?" Your heart began to pound, every possible scenario running through your head. Sick, dying, accident-

"Your sister," she began, and it hit you like a punch to the stomach. "She's having an episode. John has a meeting at the hospital, and he called us to go be with her until he can get back."

"An episode?" Unwanted memories had awful timing. They had been piling up all week, and you could feel them beginning to overflow. "But...she..." you swallowed. "It's been years since she's-"

"No," your mother said curtly, finally finding the coat she was looking for and pulling it out, the hanger sticking out when she closed the door. "She has them still."

Another gut punch. You watched with wide eyes as she descended the stairs, frozen even as you began to follow her. Your instincts kicked in, and you began to panic. She was rifling through her purse, expression solemn. You searched for your shoes, still reeling from this news.

"I'll be back later," she said, turning to the door.

Your eyebrows shot up and you reached for her arm, meeting her eyes. "Mom, just give me a minute and I'll be ready-"

"No, you stay here," she said, shaking her head. "I don't think it'd be a good idea if you came." Your hand fell from her elbow.

"I can help," you said in a small voice.

She sighed and smiled softly, reaching out to pat your shoulder. "It's fine. We always figure it out when you aren't here."

Only once the door shut did you realize she was gone. The chasm of your mind was eating you alive, swallowing anything you'd felt before and replacing it with something you didn't want. You could feel tears rising in your eyes, a sob in your throat, and you sniffled, bringing a hand to your face.

It was all too similar. Too close to how it was before. You thought it was all gone now. Buried because the past was dead. Maybe it was more alive than you thought.

Glimpses flickered before your eyes. You closed them, feet rooted to the spot. She didn't mean to hurt you. You knew she didn't. But it still stung, itching at your skin and reminding you of what you'd forget if you could. Someone said your name. You shifted only to find Alex in your line of sight, his eyes soft.

You collided. His arms encircled you, chin falling to your hair. A miniscule sob hitched your breath and he flattened his cheek on your head. "It's okay, it's okay..."

"She...she's..." you choked. He shook his head, smoothing his hand up and down your back.

"It's not your fault," Alex whispered into your hair, carefully herding you to the couch. You thunked beside him, leaning in close as he rubbed your side and bunched his fingers over your leg. "You were trying to help."

"They don't need me," you murmured, fresh tears springing to your eyes.

Alex was quiet, smoothing his hand over your head and rubbing his thumb to your hair. You burrowed into him and he let you, lifting his arm so you could more easily reach his chest. Shame painted you suddenly, and you sat up, pulling your knees to your chest. "I'm sorry."

"Hey-" Alex reached for you again. "No, it's okay. Let me help you."

"I shouldn't be...I'm sorry, I'm-" you took in shuddering breaths, instincts telling you to get far away from this. To let it fade into the dust where it was only kicked up every now and then.

Alex kept hold of your hand, and you were drawn to the magnet of his eyes. He shook his head just slightly. "This is what happened last time."

Last time. When you'd gone home for winter break, excited to share Christmas with him now that you were officially in love. The wreckage that had met you when you came home. Your sister always in tears, an unsolvable issue newly tagging her. The way you'd tried to help after seeing the exhaustion in your parents' eyes. They'd needed you.

Doctor's appointments. Trips to the pharmacy. Staying with Camille for hours, watching over her and making sure she remained healthy and safe. Christmas came and went without any fanfare, the best gift that she was still here.

After a troubled semester, you'd come home to rest. Instead, the weight of someone's life fell into the palm of your hand. The hole in your chest only widened, and you felt as though you were drowning. Holding three people you loved up above the water with only your hands, lucky if you got a wisp of air. The place you knew as a comfort had morphed into something entirely different, something that said you couldn't afford to be taken care of anymore. It was your time to step up. Be strong.

You'd barely seen Alex. He offered to come help, offer any kind of support. But you'd insisted he stay with his family, burning yourself to the nub by the time January came around. That was when you ended it with him.

So many tears. A million untrodden paths surrounding you. You hadn't imagined anything without him, not since you were a kid. He'd always been there and you'd loved him more than anyone and you'd ruined it.

But it was too much. You were both young and he was bright and smart and he needed to fly high. Away from where you would drag him down.

He didn't grace your apartment after that to study together or bring over dinner. You didn't spend the night at his place watching movies or tucked in his arms anymore. Time separated you. It seemed as though the story was over.

But everything you'd swept under the rug was back, holding you tight as you sank back into his arms and shed another tidal wave of tears. Alex was quiet as each one seeped into his shirt, and you nearly melted into nothing when you felt his lips in your hair.

Despite it all, he was here. He was here, and maybe he always had been. Another bout of tears overwhelmed you when you realized it had never needed to be so hard. One call for him and he would have been there, right where you needed him.

"I'm sorry," you choked, fingers finding his shirt. "I...you..."

"Shh," Alex soothed, shaking his head and rubbing your back. "I know. It wasn't your fault."

"H-having two kids with these issues is too much. I couldn't-" you got out before he pressed your face into his chest, nose squishing into your head.

"It's gonna be okay," he murmured, and you heard the hitch in his voice. Despite it, Alex snuggled you close, lightly rubbing your shoulder. It was the first time in what felt like forever that you'd believed someone when they said it.

You were content being held by him, cozy in the cradle of his arms. He used to do this often when you would have panic attacks or a particularly bad day. His arms were always open, and you hadn't thought you'd get the luxury of needing them again.

Looking up at him, you almost told him so many things. Everything you'd never said was spilling from its sealed envelope, flooding your senses with only him. Alex held your gaze, a single word falling from his lips. "Baby-"

The front doorknob rattled, breaking the moment into dust. There were footsteps on the porch, accompanied by your parents' voices. If they saw you crying...

You sprang from Alex's arms, eyes wide as you looked at him. He frowned, reaching for you again, but before he could say anything you fled to your room. Maybe in an hour you'd wash your face and return downstairs, act as though all was well.

It didn't feel right, but it was all you had. Running away and putting on a face was the one part of your past that you still clung to.

Garlands twined around the banisters, red bows on the edge of everything. You dusted your hands of glitter, tucking a strand of hair away. It had taken practically all day, from the moment you rose from bed. From the kitchen wafted the smell of appetizers, Camille's voice echoing alongside your mother's.

Your mother had apologized when she returned home, but what happened still sat heavy in your heart. Camille was fine. Apparently, she always was.

It only confirmed that you wouldn't be saying anything of your own troubles.

Alex remained at your side, nary a word of what happened escaping his lips. You loved him for it, for doing the opposite of pretending nothing happened. It was silent reassurance that you loved him more than anything for. He stood at your side, as steady as what you'd always needed.

Baby. It played in your head more often than not. When the fluttering of your past feelings had beckoned you again, you'd shooed it away, but now you wondered of their return. The way he looked at you, like you were the center of the universe- it melted your heart and shook your being.

Did he feel the same? Was it just as time-stopping for him to look at you as it was for you to look at him?

He was a ghost in your mind, in your every thought. Indeed, he was there, lingering as you dressed for the holiday party. Your hair was done, earrings on, and you were about to don the dress you always wore for this event. Black knit, with tights.

There was a knock on the door, and then your sister entered, a shopping bag dangled from her fingers. She looked beautiful as always, wearing a silk green dress with her hair pulled up. You recognized her necklace: an engagement gift from John.

"Is anything wrong?" you jumped up, eyes wide and hands going to her elbows.

She smiled fondly. "No, nothing. Nothing at all. I just wanted to give you this." Holding out the shopping bag, Camille smiled delightedly when you took it, bouncing on her heels. "To wear tonight. You'll look so pretty."

"Thank you," you said quietly, smiling back. This wasn't unlike her- to surprise you with little gifts at any time during the year. But a whole new dress was something else.

Camille sat on your bed, taking your usual black dress and folding it in her lap. "I wanted to apologize. For not telling you anything." Her smile faded. "It's silly. You...you were there for me when I needed you. You deserved to know."

"Camille-" you sat beside her, eyes nearly welling up. Taking one of her hands, you whispered, "I only want you to be okay. This whole time I've been away, I've been worrying-"

"But you shouldn't," she cut in, squeezing your hand, her eyes soft. "I'm fine. Really. Every now and then there's a bad episode, but truly for the most part I'm okay. I have John and he keeps me stable. I guess I never said anything because I thought there was nothing to say."

It was like a weight off your shoulders. You could have burst into tears as you looked at her, glowing and happy in front of you. So far from the girl she'd been before. You weren't sure how you'd failed to see it before. In all your worry and swimming in the sea of memory, the present was lost on you with everything.

With Alex.

Camille gave you a fond look. "I do hope you'll wear the dress tonight. It'll be so pretty and..." She said her next words with a secret smile. "...and Alex will like it."

"Alex?" You lifted your head, nearly panicking. "He doesn't-"

"He does, trust me." Camille tapped her nose with a sweet grin. "Just wear the dress and see what happens."

Almost like a fairy, she was gone in an instant, in a whirl of dark green. You stared at the door after she left, only remembering the dress a few moments later. Plucking the tissue paper from the bag, you reached in and lifted a silky red dress with thin straps and a bow in the middle from the bottom.

It was so pretty- definitely something she would have picked out. But inexplicably you at the same time. You noticed she'd snipped off the price tag but left the brand name. Classic Camille.

It was perfect when you tried it on, soft and well fitted. Your jewelry even matched it well. You stared at yourself in the mirror, adjusting your hair accordingly and garnering the courage to step outside your room in it. All you could think of was Alex's reaction. If Camille was right...what if she was right?

Biting your lip, you played with your skirt for a moment, lost in thought. Had you really been so lost in mending the past to focus on the future? Alex was something you thought you'd left behind, but really...maybe he was standing right in front of you, ready to be your future.

Maybe all the hurt, the pain, the damage had led you to this.

Your heart raced, only one thing in your mind. It was him, always him. When he'd held you through your tears and smiled so softly when you leaned into his chest during a movie. When he'd stroked your hair and told you it was going to be okay. Fingers twitching, you yearned for him under them, for the warmth of his skin. He'd started to hold you again so eagerly, and you'd thought it the feelings of old friends.

What once was love lost was at your fingertips again. You weren't sure if you should hold tight or run the other way.

The party filled up quickly, the noise drifting into your room and beckoning you down. It was sure to be shoulder to shoulder, and you weren't sure if you would even see Alex for the evening. Cautiously, you descended the stairs, immediately greeted by a barrage of neighbors asking about life in another place.

You answered their questions with a smile, feeling as though you were giving the same answer over and over again. Yes, you liked your job. No, you weren't moving back. The weather is rainy, but lovely, and you are living in a nice place. Every year you marveled at how many people your parents knew, doubly at how that number seemed to grow by the month.

Finally, you were able to make your way to the refreshments, taking a glass of water and practically pouring it down your throat. Though it was chilly outside, the heat inside multiplied by the amount of people was nearly suffocating. You moved closer to the window, hoping the cool glass would give you enough strength to dive back into greeting the other guests.

Camille brushed by you with a wink and a squeeze to your arm. You smiled at her, gratitude filling you up all over again. For the sister you had. For the way she'd grown. You watched as she gravitated towards John, meeting his open arms and smiling as he brushed a kiss to her forehead, whispering something. She nodded, looking up at him so lovingly it could have stopped time. The way he looked back, you wouldn't be surprised if it did for him.

Turning back to the window, you were startled to see Alex on the porch bench, staring at the horizon. Maybe you weren't surprised he was playing the avoidance game at a crowded function, but it felt alarming for you to be able to see exactly who you wanted to at the very moment you wanted him.

Almost fairy-like, you glided outside, drawn to him in such a familiar way. You were numb to the bite in the air as you sat beside him, watching the sun sink into the hills like the space between two fingers. The sky was smeared with pink and orange and blue- a popsicle melting into itself.

When he looked at you, butterflies sprung from their cocoons in your stomach, flittering around and spelling words you couldn't read yet. His smile was soft. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed, watching the misty evidence of your voice evaporate in the air. "Are you?"

Alex nodded, seeming to search you. You shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the cold, and his eyebrows lifted. "I..." he looked down at himself. "I'd give you my jacket if I had one."

“No need,” you said, still sweating from being inside. Alex disregarded your statement, sliding his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his sweater covered chest. He was always so warm. Even though you weren't in need of it, it was comforting, and so you stayed.

A moment passed between you, still and unmarked. The street was quiet save for the sounds of the party inside, and your eyes fell to the snow caked at the sides of the road, pushed up to the sidewalk by tires. Breathing out, you watched the motion puff in the frozen air.

Alex’s thumb drew circles on your shoulder. He exhaled softly. “I like your dress.”

“Thank you.” You smiled softly, leaning your cheek on his shoulder. “Camille gave it to me.”

Silence again. Then he asked, sounding a little hesitant. “She’s doing alright?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, eyes on your knees, fidgeting with your fingers. “Yeah. I guess this kind of thing happens a lot.”

“And they didn’t tell you?” You didn’t need to look up to know his brow was furrowed.

You shook your head slowly. “No.”

His thumb stopped its motion, and you risked a look up at him. For once, his eyes were not laser focused on you, instead burning a hole in the porch. Sitting up, you tried to meet his eyes. “But I understand why.”

“Why?” His head turned so quickly you were stunned, lost in his face for a moment.

Collecting yourself, you spoke slowly, trying to gather your thoughts. “They didn’t need me.” Alex started to say something, but you shook your head. “They didn’t need me. And that’s okay.”

He watched your eyes, expression soft. Your heart jumped with every glance, and now it was spurring you toward something you didn’t know if you would have confessed fifteen minutes ago. “Sometimes I think I’m tired of learning about myself. It’s like…I’m an adult. I should know these things.” Swallowing, you closed your eyes for a second, mind moving quicker than you could keep up with. “I thought I knew what had happened with Camille. I thought I knew what happened with you and me and I thought I knew how I felt but…” you trailed off for a moment, lips parting as you searched him. “Alex I don’t think I’ve ever stopped loving you.”

With your new discovery, you expected it to feel different. But he was the same Alex, the same heartbeat under you. With the way you'd tried to leave your past, maybe you'd made it all out to change. But when he said your name, it was just as intoxicating as before. There were some things you could leave behind, but others you found yourself determined to hold onto.

Alex said your name again, his voice nearly caressing the word. He looked so pretty in this light, with the sun waving goodbye and the moon turning its face. You clocked his hand on your knee, and then he was talking again. “When I moved back, I think a part of me expected it to be the way it was before. But it couldn’t have been.” You swore your heart stopped for a moment. “It didn’t have you. I never stopped loving you either.”

With a little gasp, you were reaching for him, and he pulled you closer somehow. A tear escaped your eye, and you leaned forward, throwing your arms around his neck. He held you for a long moment, and then you murmured into his chest, "I didn't know what I was missing so badly until I was with you again."

"Baby," he muttered, and you drew back, bringing your mouth to his in a swift motion. Alex held you to him through the chill, his hand at your back as he kissed you tenderly. It was home. He was not only your past, he was the future you'd dreamed of with only hazy figures that now seemed clearer.

"I ran away before and it was the wrong thing to do," you whispered, and he thumbed your cheek, nose nudging it. “I should have stayed-”

"And I stayed in all the wrong places when I should have stayed with you,” he said back, and you pressed your mouth to his again, a long kiss burning your insides in the most pleasant way. You leaned into him, suddenly cold, suddenly glad he was so warm.

Any minute now, you were expecting to wake up in a cold sweat, disturbed by what could have been and what you wished would happen. But he was still in front of you, chin resting on your head as he

"I don't care if we have to play phone tag every day forever once I go back home," you murmured, snug against his chest as he covered the bare portion of your back with his hand. "I'm not letting you go ever again."

His fingers froze, and you frowned, lifting your head. Alex's lips were parted, and he looked as though he were holding something back. Your brow knit, and you sat up, half in his lap. "What is it?" Worry flooded you, and suddenly you were worried you were about to wake up. A million possibilities flooded your mind, each one worse than the last.

Alex was frozen for a few seconds, and then his eyes found yours again. You braced yourself for whatever he was about to tell you, stiffening in his hold. But nothing could have prepared you for what he said.

"I'm moving at the end of the school year."

Your mind blanked, and "What?" fell out of your mouth before you could regulate it. He was serious- you could see it. Alex would never joke about something like this.

He lifted his hand to your cheek, brushing away a strand of hair, the action seeming to ground him. "The job offer was confirmed this morning. I've been trying to figure out a way to tell you ever since."

"Where is it?" You had a million other questions, but this one made it out first.

"Seattle."

For the millionth time since you came outside, you were speechless. His hand was still on your cheek, and you leaned into it, blinking up at him in utter disbelief. "You...you..."

"I've been thinking about leaving for months," he said quietly, eyes steady on you as he spoke. Though the sounds of Frank Sinatra's Christmas hits were still emanating from the house, your ears were tuned into the sound of his voice. "I started looking, doing remote interviews. All the while I was telling myself that I could say no even if I got it. And then an opening came up where I knew you lived and I thought maybe..."

Alex Nilsen had never been one to do something out of the blue. He was meticulous and you loved him for it. You knew how comfortable he was in your shared hometown, how much being near his family meant to him. Even the idea of him thinking about leaving was indictive of something deeper than you could imagine.

"I accepted it," he confirmed, thumb still rubbing your cheek. "I'll start in the fall."

Emotions were running wild as you stared at this man who'd just proved he'd move mountains for even a chance at being with you. You'd loved each other your entire lives, but even then, you didn't think it ran so pure.

"You're leaving everything behind," you whispered, reaching up to hold his wrist. "How do you know it's going to work out?"

"My dad is fine. My brothers are fine," Alex said, and the way he looked at you nearly made the world stop spinning. "And I've never been sure about anything in my life, but I'm sure about this."

"We've only just reconnected this week," you said softly. "I don't want you to do this just for me. What if you regret it someday?"

"It was something you said to me that pushed me to take the job," he said gently, his other hand rising to your face. "You said that it would be okay if I didn't want to be here forever. And it made me realize that maybe I never have." Taking in a breath, Alex leaned in and kissed you so softly that you nearly melted. "I've loved you as long as I've known you. I would regret it if I didn't do this."

Now you were sure you were dreaming. It was so unexpected but so utterly him. To be so sure.

The holidays would pass. You would unwrap presents with him on Christmas morning and kiss him on New Year's. You would part in tears at the airport but with the knowledge that you would see him again as soon as possible. The future laid ahead with bright lights, winking and telling you it was going to be okay. Your past and future merged together to create now and it was wonderful because it was with him.

Nostalgia had led you back home. To a love you had thought past, but you knew would stay.

Even as you left, you would stay.

#Spotify #alex nilsen #pwmov #people we meet on vacation #tom blyth #alex nilsen fanfiction #alex nilsen pwmov #alex nilsen x reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth fanfiction #alex nilsen x you #milliesfishes alex #millie's twelve days of christmas

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movingmusically · 2 months ago

Text

Caught Feeling - Epilogue

Synopsis:

Y/N and Hank find themselves celebrating Christmas in San Francisco, welcomed into his family’s holiday traditions. As Y/N experiences the warmth of Hank’s childhood home, it’s clear how much their bond has grown. Together, they find comfort in the idea of a future—one that feels like home, no matter where they are.

Author’s Note:

This was meant to be a short chapter with a small time skip to finish the story, but it’s ended up being the longest of all. I’m sure I could have edited it down a bit more but I got carried away.

Thank you so much for reading Caught Feeling! It’s the first time I’ve tried writing anything, and I’ve loved every moment of creating these characters and sharing their journey. I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Word Count: 10,074

Masterlist

The flight from New York had been long but filled with a quiet excitement that buzzed between us. As we touched down in San Francisco, I felt a thrill of anticipation mingled with a hint of nerves. Hank stayed close, his fingers laced with mine, grounding me with each reassuring squeeze. The crisp air of the city greeted us as we stepped out of the airport, the warmth of California in December an unfamiliar contrast to the biting chill I was used to back in New York.

We collected our bags and made our way to the hire car I’d arranged in advance. I slid behind the wheel, adjusting to the slight strangeness of being in control after so long, and Hank settled in beside me, a relaxed smile playing on his lips as he reached over to rest a comforting hand on my knee. It was my turn to be the steady one, to navigate this last leg of the journey as he leaned back, gazing out at the passing scenery with a look that was equal parts nostalgic and contemplative.

The streets wound up gently toward his parents’ neighbourhood, a mix of towering palms and cheerful holiday decorations adorning the houses we passed. I couldn’t help but marvel at the unfamiliar sight of Christmas lights twinkling against green lawns, rather than snow-covered streets. It felt surreal—this warmth, this different version of December. Part of me missed the chill of New York, the way it made everything feel more festive, but there was a charm to this as well, a reminder that Christmas could feel like home in more than one way.

Finally, as we approached his parents’ house, my nerves prickled again. Hank must have sensed it, because he reached for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “They’re going to love you,” he murmured, his voice filled with that calm assurance I’d come to trust.

Before we even had a chance to knock, the door swung open, and there was his mum, her face lighting up with pure joy at the sight of us. She stepped forward, arms wide open, and pulled Hank into a warm hug before turning to me, her expression radiating a welcome that eased the last of my nerves.

“And you must be Y/N!” she said, her voice full of warmth. She pulled me into a hug that felt instantly comforting, like I was already part of this family.

As she stepped back, Hank’s dad appeared behind her, his smile steady and welcoming. He shook my hand firmly, then clapped Hank on the back with a look of approval that seemed to speak volumes. “Welcome to our home,” he said, his tone genuine and kind.

Inside, the air was filled with the scent of fresh pine and cinnamon, the rooms cozy and inviting with festive touches everywhere—garlands winding up the banister, stockings hanging by the fireplace, and a scattering of old family photos that gave me a glimpse of Hank as a kid. Seeing him in those snapshots—grinning with a gap-toothed smile, his hair bleached from the summer sun—made me feel like I was peeking into a world I’d only heard about before now.

As we stepped further into the house, Hank’s mum moved about with an eager, warm energy, pointing out little mementos and details that made this house a true home. “See this?” she said, pausing by a shelf that displayed a neat row of snow globes. “Henry used to collect these when he was little. Every family trip, we had to find a new one. I think he even tried to convince us once that a trip to the grocery store counted, just so he could get another one.”

Hank let out a groan, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was ten, Ma”

She waved a hand, undeterred. “You were persistent! And then there’s this…” She pointed to a photo on the wall of a much younger Hank, arms stretched wide, grinning from ear to ear with a front tooth missing, standing in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. His dad stood behind him, hands resting on Hank’s shoulders with an expression of fatherly pride, and his mum, laughing beside them, had her arm wrapped around both.

“Look at that smile,” I teased, nudging him gently. “Future heartbreaker right there.”

Hank rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked into a smile. “I’m sure the missing tooth really did it for the girls.”

His mum chuckled, resting her hand on my shoulder. “Oh, don’t let him fool you. He had the girls at school bringing him cookies every week. Thought I wouldn’t notice how fast he went through his lunch money.”

“Ma…” Hank muttered, his cheeks flushing faintly. He glanced at me, clearly torn between embarrassment and amusement.

“Oh, he’d get so flustered when they’d show up at the door with little love notes!” she continued, her eyes bright with nostalgia. “One Valentine’s Day, I remember finding a whole pile of them stuffed into his backpack.”

His dad chuckled from behind us, crossing his arms with a knowing grin. “And he claimed they were ‘extra homework,’ if you can believe it.”

Hank laughed, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe they were revealing all this. “Can we maybe not expose every embarrassing thing I did before age sixteen?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Henry,” his mum said with a wink, “I’m saving the truly good ones for later.”

After we’d settled in and had a delicious dinner filled with laughter and more tales of Hank’s misadventures, his mum brought out a large, well-loved box marked “Christmas” in faded handwriting. “How about a bit of tree decorating?” she suggested, smiling as she handed us each an ornament to start.

I took the small, glittery reindeer she’d handed me, noting its slightly lopsided antler. “Did you make this one?” I asked Hank, holding it up to him with a grin.

He nodded, groaning with an exaggerated sigh. “Fourth Grade art class. I thought glitter was the answer to everything.”

“Well, it’s adorable,” I said, carefully placing it on a branch near the front.

As we continued to unwrap each ornament, his mum handed me a small baseball bat ornament with Hank’s name painted in neat, blocky letters. “This one’s from the first season he played in the local league,” she explained. “We were so proud of him, running the bases with such determination… until he tripped and ended up with a black eye,” she added, laughing.

Hank covered his face with one hand, trying not to laugh. “Why do you remember every single one of my injuries?”

“Because, love,” his mum replied, brushing a hand over his shoulder, “I was the one with the ice packs, the Band-Aids, and the endless worrying. And besides,” she added, glancing at me with a conspiratorial smile, “I knew someday these stories would come in handy.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, feeling warmth settle over me as I looked between them. This was Hank’s history, his foundation, and being here, hearing these stories, felt like getting to know him all over again. It was a privilege, one that I held with a quiet reverence.

As we hung the last few ornaments, Hank’s mum handed me a small, carefully wrapped package. “I have something for you, too,” she said, her voice soft.

I unwrapped it slowly, finding a hand-carved wooden heart painted with delicate floral designs. My breath caught, and I looked up, my eyes meeting hers.

“This is beautiful,” I murmured, touched beyond words.

She smiled, resting her hand on my arm. “Every year, we add a new ornament that represents someone important to us. This year, we thought it was time we added you.”

The gesture rendered me momentarily speechless, a rush of emotion welling up in my chest. I turned to Hank, who was watching with that familiar warmth in his eyes, a look that held both pride and affection.

“Thank you,” I whispered, unable to keep the emotion from my voice. I found a spot on the tree for the heart, carefully hanging it on a branch where it could catch the light. I felt Hank’s hand on my back, steadying me, and I glanced over, catching his gaze.

“Looks perfect,” he murmured, his voice soft.

As we finished decorating, Hank’s dad turned on the Christmas lights, casting a soft glow that made the ornaments sparkle, each one reflecting the memories they held. We all stood back, admiring the tree, and I felt Hank’s arm slip around my waist, pulling me close.

“Welcome to the family, Y/N,” his mum said warmly, reaching over to squeeze my hand. Her words settled over me like a blanket, wrapping me in warmth, and in that moment, I felt something profound—a sense of belonging that I hadn’t quite realised I was searching for.

And as we all stood there, the soft hum of a Christmas song filling the room, I looked up at Hank, my heart full. This was his family, his life, and now, I was part of it too.

After a cosy evening with Hank’s family, we nestled together on the sofa in the living room, the soft glow of the fireplace and the twinkling Christmas tree lights creating a warm, quiet space. Hank rested his arm along the back of the sofa, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on my shoulder as I pulled out my phone to video call my family, the anticipation of seeing their familiar faces making my heart flutter. Hank tightened his arm around me, giving me a reassuring squeeze as I hit the call button.

It didn’t take long for the screen to fill with everyone’s faces—Mum front and centre, Dean and Viki leaning in on one side, Barry on the other, and Shaun and Meg squeezing into the frame from the back, each one of them grinning widely. Just seeing them all together brought a flood of warmth, a piece of home I hadn’t realised I’d missed so much.

“Hey! There they are!” Mum said, her voice full of holiday cheer. “Merry Christmas, you two!”

“Merry Christmas!” we chorused back.

Viki waved, giving us a warm smile. “You two look very cosy over there. Not missing the chaos, are you, Y/N?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Oh, I don’t know… I heard there’s a serious Lord of the Rings Trivial Pursuit gap without me there to answer all the obscure questions.”

Shaun groaned dramatically, giving me a mock glare. “You’ve abandoned us, Y/N! You know we’re struggling without you.”

Mum raised her hands in mock innocence. “Hey, I don’t make the rules! I’m just saying, it’s been a struggle without our trivia queen here… Hank, you’d better be prepared next year. We could use another brain in the game!”

Meg snickered, chiming in, “Yeah, Nan’s barely keeping up. We need all the help we can get!”

Hank chuckled, glancing at me with a glint in his eye. “I’ll be ready, I promise. Y/N’s been preparing me with her endless Tolkien trivia.”

Dean raised his glass, grinning. “You’d better be prepared for more than just trivia, Hank. We’ve got a monopoly champion to defend and Articulate to play. Y/N’s been our reigning champ, but she’s already warned us you might give her a run for her money.”

I shot Hank a teasing look, nudging him gently. “Guess I’ll have to step up my game.”

Viki chimed in with a laugh. “And make sure you’re ready for Mum’s endless spread of food. She’s been feeding us as if we’re preparing for a winter famine.”

Barry leaned in, raising an eyebrow. “Just make sure to bring an appetite, Hank. Mum’s Christmas dinners aren’t for the faint-hearted.”

Meg nudged Barry with a grin. “And don’t worry, we’ll make sure you’re on our team for Cards Against Humanity.”

The laughter that filled the room was infectious, Hank fitting so seamlessly into the banter that it felt like he’d been part of this tradition all along. The camera panned around to show the spread of food on the table, so much that it could easily feed twice their number. I shook my head, a mixture of exasperation and fondness welling up inside me.

Hank smiled down at me, his arm tightening slightly as he murmured, “You’ve got a pretty incredible family, you know that?”

I nodded, my heart swelling. “I do. And now they’re stuck with you too.”

Barry leaned closer to the screen, giving Hank a mock-serious look. “Just remember, Hank, if you mess with her, you’re dealing with all of us.”

“Oh, stop it, Barry,” Viki laughed, swatting him playfully. “We’re just glad Y/N’s got someone who makes her smile like that.”

As we wrapped up the call, Dean raised his glass one last time, grinning. “Merry Christmas, guys. See you soon—hope you’re ready for next year!”

We ended the call, and I nestled closer to Hank, feeling a beautiful mix of warmth and contentment as my two worlds had, for the first time, truly intertwined.

As the night drew to a close, and the house settled into a comfortable silence, Hank and I made our way to the guest room, which I quickly realised had once been his bedroom. Though redecorated, I could still feel the lingering essence of his teenage years—a mix of nostalgia and a faint trace of rebellion that seemed to cling to the walls. It wasn’t hard to imagine younger Hank here, the boy with the gap-toothed grin and a heart full of dreams.

“So,” I began with a grin, glancing around at the now-muted colours and neatly arranged furniture. “This is where you had all those boy band posters, right? Somehow, I can just picture it… you, listening to their music, practising your moves in the mirror.”

Hank let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Listen, everyone had a boy band phase. And I’ll have you know I nailed those moves.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” I replied, smirking as I pictured a young Hank, probably with a slightly awkward haircut and way too much enthusiasm, doing his best boy band impression. I took in the room around us, letting my mind wander through a version of him I’d never known. A thought nudged at me, and I gave him a sidelong glance, trying to hold back a playful smile.

“You know,” I said slowly, leaning against the desk, “you already told me you’d have noticed me back then… so tell me, how would you have gotten me in here?”

Hank raised an eyebrow, folding his arms with a casual confidence that was slightly undone by the amused glint in his eyes. “Well,” he said slowly, leaning against the door frame, “I’d probably come up with some excuse. Like needing help with a biology assignment or something. Just enough to get you to come over, but not too obvious.”

“Ah,” I replied, nodding as if considering the scenario. “And I’d be the quiet girl who was half-convinced you didn’t even know I existed. So when you asked me to help, I’d probably agree and then spend the entire time overthinking every single thing.”

He laughed softly, stepping a bit closer. “And maybe I’d be sitting there, acting like I didn’t notice how nervous you were. Trying to think of something smooth to say but ending up just staring at my textbook.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to leave you hanging with your grades,” I replied, shooting him a coy smile as I made my way over to the bed, sitting down cross-legged and mimicking the studious expression of someone who took their biology assignments very seriously. “Let’s see… we should probably start with DNA replication, right?”

A glint of amusement crossed his face as he took in what I was doing, his eyes narrowing slightly in a mix of challenge and delight. Hank wandered over, taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside me, his posture just shy enough to fit the role but with an undercurrent of something else—like a hidden anticipation.

“Right… DNA replication,” he murmured, glancing down as if he really was trying to piece together the assignment. “To be honest, I’d probably be way too distracted to actually learn anything.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m here to help you focus,” I replied, keeping my tone lightly teasing as I pretended to flip through an imaginary textbook, keeping one eye on him as he settled into the character, playing the slightly shy, endearing athlete who’d asked for help but was really hoping for more than just study notes.

We exchanged a glance, both of us holding back smiles as we leaned into the roles. There was a charged undercurrent in the air, a shared understanding that we were toeing the line between the playful and the thrilling, caught up in this little fantasy we were building together. And as he settled beside me, our knees just barely brushing, it felt like we’d created our own private world—one where anticipation simmered just beneath the surface, waiting to unfold.

I watched Hank’s face as I tried to explain the basics of DNA replication, and it was clear he was already lost. His brow furrowed, and he had this slightly blank look, like he was genuinely trying but couldn’t make heads or tails of it. I stifled a laugh, realising that my usual approach wasn’t going to cut it.

“Alright, let’s try something different,” I said, scooting a bit closer on the bed. “Think of it like… baseball.”

He perked up, interest sparking in his eyes. “I’m listening.”

“Okay,” I began, giving him a small, encouraging smile. “Imagine DNA as the team’s playbook. It holds all the instructions the cell needs to function, just like a playbook has all the strategies for a game.”

He nodded, still looking at me a bit skeptically but clearly trying to follow along.

“So, DNA replication is kind of like making extra copies of the playbook,” I continued. “You’d need multiple copies so every player on the team is on the same page. In a cell, each new cell needs its own full set of DNA instructions to work properly.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Okay, I think I get that part.”

Encouraged, I went on. “Now, think of DNA polymerase as the pitcher. Its job is to add new bases to create the second strand, like a pitcher throwing to different players on the field.”

I could see him focusing harder, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he tried to keep up. “Alright…”

“And the runner is like the replicated strand,” I explained, warming up to the analogy. “When the runner starts, they’re the original strand, but they’re guiding the new strand to ‘bases’ until the replication is complete. It keeps the game moving, ensuring that the DNA copy is accurate and ready for the next ‘game’—or, in this case, the next cell division.”

Hank gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “So… it’s like… every base has its playbook, and everyone’s following along to keep the game from falling apart?”

“Exactly!” I said, unable to hide my excitement at his breakthrough. “And any mistakes in DNA replication are like fouls in the game—if something goes wrong, it messes up the whole play.”

He let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, I think I get it. Sort of. But only because you somehow made it about baseball.” He leaned in, his expression softening, and I could feel the playful energy between us shifting slightly. “You’re actually really good at this, you know?”

“Well, I’ve had some practice,” I replied, trying to play it cool. But something about the way he was looking at me, that warm, appreciative gaze, made my pulse quicken.

We held each other’s eyes for a moment, and I felt a blush creeping up my neck. He was still sitting close, our knees brushing, and for a split second, I was fully lost in the moment, imagining what it would have been like if we’d really been teenagers, sitting here, caught up in this kind of nervous, thrilling closeness.

Clearing my throat, I tried to steer us back into character, flipping an imaginary page in my pretend textbook. “So, um… now that you understand DNA replication, I guess we should… review it again? Just to be thorough, of course.”

Hank caught onto my tone instantly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he leaned closer. “Of course,” he murmured, his voice low, matching my playfully serious tone. “Wouldn’t want to miss any details.”

The air between us felt charged, our little fantasy blurring into something more, and I could feel my heart racing as he settled even closer beside me, his knee pressing gently against mine.

I tried to stifle a laugh as Hank scratched the back of his neck, looking up at me with the kind of earnestness that felt so out of character for him, it was almost adorable.

“So, uh… DNA replication, right?” he asked, his brow furrowing in mock concentration, though his gaze kept drifting to my waist, lingering a beat longer than necessary on the sliver of skin between my top and skirt.

“Exactly,” I replied, crossing my arms to keep up the facade of a serious study session, though I could feel my lips twitching, dangerously close to breaking into a smile. “Think of it like… you’re the DNA polymerase—the key player here. You’re adding new bases, making sure each base pairs with its partner.”

His eyes flicked up to meet mine, and I could see the glint of amusement hiding there, despite his best efforts. “Okay, okay… so I’m, what? The main guy keeping everything in line?”

I leaned in a little, keeping my voice low, as if I were explaining something top-secret. “Exactly. Without you, the whole replication process would fall apart.” I tapped a finger against his shoulder playfully. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a tone that made me feel as though we were teetering on the edge of something more. He shifted, and his knee brushed mine again, the touch sending a little thrill up my spine. But I kept my cool, giving him a look that said, Nice try.

“And just so we’re clear,” I continued, pretending to flip an imaginary page in our “textbook,” “if anything goes wrong in this process, it could mess up the whole ‘game’—it’s your responsibility to keep everything in order.”

“Oh, no pressure, then,” he replied, his voice dipping into something soft, something almost challenging, as his gaze settled on me again. “Good thing I’ve got such a… dedicated tutor.” He was close enough now that I could feel his breath, the warmth of it sending little sparks along my skin. His tone was still teasing, but his eyes had softened, that familiar warmth deepening into something that made my heart stumble.

I tried to steer us back, keeping my voice steady even as I felt the charged energy building between us. “Well, don’t think this means you’re off the hook,” I managed, trying to hold onto the last shreds of our playful act. “I expect you to actually learn something here, Hank.”

He leaned a little closer, his hand coming to rest on my knee, his fingers brushing against the fabric in a way that sent a shiver through me. “Oh, I’m learning a lot,” he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent, and suddenly, I was the one forgetting where we’d left off in our “lesson.”

My pulse quickened as his hand drifted a little higher, settling at my waist, his thumb tracing a slow, steady line along the edge of my top. His gaze held mine, filled with that warm intensity I’d come to know, yet right now, it felt heightened, amplified by the thrill of this little game we were playing.

He leaned in, his lips just a breath away, and his voice softened as he said, “Think you could give me a little… extra credit?”

The playful edge to his tone made me laugh, even as my heart pounded against my ribs. “That depends,” I replied, voice barely a whisper, feeling as though we were standing on the brink of something new, something that had been building between us since the moment we met.

For a moment, we stayed there, caught between teasing and something deeper, something almost inevitable. And then, slowly, he closed the distance, his lips meeting mine in a way that felt both familiar and entirely fresh—like a first kiss all over again. The room faded away, and all I could feel was him, the warmth of his hand at my waist, the gentle pressure of his lips against mine as we sank further into each other, the rest of the world forgotten.

We stayed wrapped up in the moment, leaning into the fantasy that we were two teenagers, stealing a kiss on the edge of something thrilling and new. There was an innocence to it, a softness, as if we were both trying to channel the nerves and curiosity of a first crush. The tension simmered beneath the surface, charged by the awareness that, despite the pretence, we both knew each other so much more deeply.

His lips brushed mine with a tentative, almost hesitant touch, like he was figuring out what I liked, even though we both knew he’d long since mastered that. But we stayed in character, letting the kiss build slowly, sweetly, as if we were figuring each other out for the very first time. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss just a fraction, and I could feel him smiling against my lips, like he was enjoying the challenge of holding back, of letting this fantasy play out.

I pulled back just a little, a grin tugging at my lips. “You’re really committed to this biology tutoring session, aren’t you?”

He chuckled softly, and I could see the spark of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, you know… I heard the tutor was kind of cute. Thought I might get a little extra help if I showed interest.” His fingers traced a light, teasing line down my arm, his touch just shy enough to fit the role of the slightly nervous high schooler.

“Oh, so that’s what this is,” I replied, arching a brow, though I could feel the warmth of his hand radiating through me, the real connection simmering beneath the surface of our act. “Just trying to sweet-talk the tutor?”

He looked away, feigning a shy smile that I knew all too well was part of the role. “Maybe… if she doesn’t mind.” His gaze flicked back to mine, and there was something there, a playful glint mixed with genuine warmth, making me feel like we were perfectly balanced between make-believe and something real.

I bit my lip, playing along, letting my voice dip into a softer tone. “Well, I suppose I could be convinced… if you keep up the good work.” I leaned in, brushing my lips against his again, feeling his hand settle more confidently on my waist, the touch grounding us even as we danced around the edges of this little fantasy.

His fingers tightened slightly, as if he was losing himself in the moment, and I felt the same. It was intoxicating, letting ourselves pretend this was something brand new, even though we both knew the comfort and depth that had already grown between us. And yet, somehow, that made it even sweeter—the thrill of rediscovering each other as if for the first time, layered with everything we knew and loved about each other.

When he pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, he let out a soft laugh. “You know, if this were high school, I’d probably be way too nervous to actually go through with this.”

I smiled, keeping my voice low, as if we really were sneaking around, just shy of being caught. “Good thing it’s just role-play, then. This time, you’re allowed to be a little brave.”

He grinned, his thumb brushing along my waist in a way that made my pulse jump. “Good thing,” he murmured, his voice soft, playful, but with that edge of sincerity that reminded me we weren’t just acting.

The shift was subtle, almost imperceptible, but I felt it—a tension slipping through, breaking the thin barrier of our little game. His fingers traced a slow, deliberate line along my waist, his touch a little firmer, no longer holding back as much. The playful air that had hung between us melted, replaced by something deeper, something that had been simmering just beneath the surface all along.

I looked up at him, and the glint of amusement in his eyes had softened, replaced by an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. We weren’t pretending anymore, and we both knew it.

“Hank…” I whispered, the name barely a breath, filled with a meaning I couldn’t quite put into words. His hand slid up, cupping my face, his thumb brushing along my cheek in a way that felt so achingly familiar, yet electric, as if it was the first time all over again.

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice low, rough around the edges, like he was just as caught up in this as I was. His gaze held mine, unwavering, and I could feel my heart pounding, every beat echoing through me, pulling me closer to him, grounding me in the moment.

I couldn’t keep up the act, couldn’t pretend this was just another game. My hands slid up his arms, feeling the strength beneath my fingertips, tracing the lines of someone I knew so well, yet felt like I was discovering anew. And in that moment, I didn’t care about the pretence, didn’t care about anything beyond the warmth of him, the way his presence filled every inch of the room, of me.

Without a word, he leaned in, capturing my lips in a kiss that was anything but tentative. It was deep, real, filled with an urgency that stole the breath from my lungs. His hand slipped to the small of my back, pulling me closer until there wasn’t an inch between us, until I could feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart, grounding me even as it sent a thrill through every nerve.

My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer. His hands roamed over me, familiar yet thrilling, like he was rediscovering every inch, every curve. The playful pretence was long gone, replaced by something raw, something that felt like it had been waiting to break free all along.

We were lost in each other, in the quiet intensity that had always been there, simmering beneath the surface. His lips trailed down my neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, and I felt myself arch into him, my body responding instinctively, surrendering to the moment, to him.

With a surge of confidence, I pushed him back, and he fell onto the edge of the bed, his eyes lighting up with a spark of surprise that quickly turned into something darker, something full of intent. Before I could even process the thrill of taking the lead, his hands gripped my waist, steady and sure, and he shifted us, turning me so that I was lying beneath him, his body hovering over mine, a quiet challenge in his gaze.

For a moment, he held himself there, his weight balanced just enough that I felt his presence without feeling trapped, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. His fingers brushed along my sides, tracing a slow, steady path down, sending a trail of warmth that lingered long after his touch moved on.

And then, his hands reached the hem of my skirt, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric with a deliberateness that made my pulse race. His touch was firm but unhurried, like he wanted to savour every second, each moment stretching out between us, charged and electric. He kept his gaze on mine, a silent question passing between us as he eased the skirt up, his hands travelling along the bare skin of my calves, then thighs, his fingers warm and grounding.

I could feel every inch of his touch as he lifted the fabric higher, his grip tightening slightly as his hands moved, the air between us thickening with each passing second. The deliberate pace, the way he held himself above me, exuding both strength and gentleness, was enough to make me lose myself entirely.

His lips brushed against my jaw, then drifted down, trailing heat along my neck, his breath warm against my skin. He paused, hovering just at the curve of my shoulder, his fingers tracing small, languid circles along the top of my thigh, as if teasing us both, drawing out the moment until the tension felt like it could snap.

I arched into him, my hands finding their way to his back, gripping him, urging him closer, needing more of him, every inch. And he responded, his hands slipping just a bit higher, his touch grounding me even as it made me feel weightless, our breaths mingling, each beat of my heart thrumming in rhythm with his.

Hank’s hands slid down to the edge of my skirt, fingers grazing the soft fabric before slipping beneath, tracing a line along my thighs. His touch was deliberate, his movements slow as he lifted the skirt higher, exposing more skin with each gentle push of his hands. I could feel the warmth of his breath close to my neck, his lips barely an inch away as his fingers brushed over the thin fabric of my panties, lingering just for a second before he hooked his thumbs under the waistband.

Our eyes met, and there was a flash of something playful in his gaze, softened by the intensity that simmered beneath. He tugged my panties down slowly, his hands steady as he slipped them off, his touch lingering on my legs as he pulled them past my knees and then let the fabric fall away. His gaze flicked down, and a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he noticed the tell-tale dampness that had already formed on the fabric.

His smirk deepened as he held up my panties, glancing at the damp spot with that familiar glint in his eyes. “Looks like someone was already waiting for this,” he murmured, his voice rough and teasing.

I bit my lip, feeling a rush of heat under his gaze, but I wasn’t about to let him have all the fun. “You could say I was prepared,” I shot back, my tone equally playful, daring, as I reached up and tugged him closer by the collar of his shirt. “And here you are, taking your sweet time.”

That did it. His smirk faded into something darker, more intense, and his eyes narrowed slightly, as though I’d just issued a challenge he was more than ready to accept. He tossed the panties aside without another thought, his hands sliding up to grip my waist, firm and possessive, holding me in place as his gaze swept over me, taking in every inch with a hunger that made my skin flush.

“Taking my time?” he echoed, his voice low, rough with a promise that made my pulse skip. “Guess I’ll have to make up for that.”

He leaned in, capturing my lips in a kiss that was fierce, unrestrained, all pretence and patience gone, replaced by a need that bordered on desperation. He gripped the hem of my top, tugging it up and over my head in one swift motion, discarding it carelessly to the floor. I barely had time to catch my breath before his fingers slipped beneath my bra strap, pushing it off my shoulder with a roughness that sent a thrill through me, his movements no longer restrained.

He leaned in, his lips brushing along my collarbone, his hands settling on my hips and pulling me flush against him. I could feel the heat of him, his heart beating hard through the fabric of his shirt, and it was enough to make me feel dizzy with need. My hands found the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward, and he lifted his arms just enough for me to pull it over his head, tossing it aside as I let my hands roam over his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under my fingertips.

He let out a low, satisfied sound as I traced my hands along the hard lines of his torso, my fingers gliding over his skin, feeling the warmth radiating beneath. As I ventured lower, my touch met the trail of hair starting just below his navel, leading down in a way that was both enticing and grounding, a subtle invitation that left my own pulse racing. The roughness of his breath against my neck told me I was driving him just as wild, his chest rising and falling beneath my touch, each shallow inhale and exhale a silent testament to the restraint he was barely holding onto. It was intoxicating, knowing that every small movement, every lingering touch, was unraveling him in the same way he was unraveling me.

I matched his intensity, my hands moving to the waistband of his jeans, fingers working quickly to undo the button, and he shifted just enough to help me push them down, the denim sliding to the floor. As he kicked them off, he pulled me close again, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that was raw, full of the need we’d been holding back for too long.

My hand slipped down, feeling the heat and hardness of him straining through his boxers. I pressed my palm against him, feeling the dampness at the tip, the evidence of his desire sending a thrill through me. He let out a low, rough sound that made my pulse race, his hips pushing into my hand, silently asking for more.

I couldn’t resist a teasing smile, looking up at him as I whispered, “Guess I’m not the only one who was waiting.”

His answering grin was dark, his gaze full of intent that left no doubt about where this was heading. “You have no idea,” he murmured, his voice thick with need.

In one swift movement, he pushed my skirt higher, fingers hooking under the remaining fabric and freeing me completely. With his hands still tracing up my thighs, he paused, his gaze flicking to mine for a heartbeat before he leaned down, his lips trailing a path from my collarbone downward, his touch both reverent and filled with raw hunger.

His mouth found my breast, lips brushing over the sensitive skin, his breath warm as he began to press slow, deliberate kisses along the curve, igniting every nerve in its wake. His hand slipped around, cupping me, his thumb grazing over the peak, making me shiver as he took his time, letting the anticipation build.

When his lips finally closed around my nipple, a gasp escaped me, my back arching into him, the sensation sending a shock of pleasure straight through me. He flicked his tongue over the sensitive skin, slow and teasing, before sucking gently, his gaze lifting to meet mine with a dark intensity that left me breathless. The roughness of his stubble against my skin, paired with the warmth of his mouth, was almost too much, every touch stoking the fire that had been building between us.

His free hand moved down, tracing along my waist before he shifted slightly, pressing himself closer, the hardness of him through his boxers a reminder of just how far gone we both were. My hand slipped down instinctively, feeling him again through the fabric, harder now, the dampness at the tip that sent another thrill through me.

“Don’t stop,” I murmured, barely able to form words, lost in the feel of him, in the way his mouth and hands moved over me, each touch leaving me aching for more. His lips moved to my other breast, giving it the same devoted attention, sucking and teasing until I felt like I might come undone.

With a low groan, he finally leaned back, his hands slipping to the waistband of his boxers. He gave me a look that was both a question and a promise, his gaze locked on mine as he tugged them down, finally freeing himself completely. The sight of him above me, every inch bare and unrestrained, sent a shiver through me, my body responding instinctively, every nerve alive with the anticipation of what was to come.

My hand drifted down, wrapping around him, feeling the warmth and hardness beneath my fingers. He let out a quiet, shuddering breath, his hips pressing forward instinctively, responding to my touch. I stroked him slowly, savouring the weight of him, the way he fit so perfectly against my hand, each movement building a rhythm that left us both breathless.

I leaned up, capturing his mouth in a soft, lingering kiss, feeling the heat radiating between us as our bodies moved closer, all pretence gone. Without a word, I turned, giving him a playful glance over my shoulder as I bent forward, resting on my hands, inviting him. The air between us thickened, charged with anticipation, and I felt my heart race as he positioned himself behind me, his hands firm on my hips, steadying us both.

I could feel the wetness between my thighs, the undeniable evidence of my need, and when he moved, pressing himself against me, his hardness was almost overwhelming, grounding me in the intensity of the moment. He entered me slowly, filling me in a way that made me gasp, my hands gripping the sheets as we both adjusted to the closeness, the perfect, electrifying fit.

For a moment, we stayed still, caught in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Then he leaned forward, his chest pressing against my back as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me up so we were both on our knees, our bodies fitting together seamlessly. His mouth found the curve of my neck, his lips trailing soft kisses along my skin, making me shiver as he began to move, each thrust slow and deliberate, drawing us both deeper into the moment.

One of his hands found my breast, his fingers brushing over my nipple, sending a surge of pleasure through me as he continued to kiss my neck, his breath hot and unsteady against my skin. His other hand drifted lower, fingers grazing the sensitive spot between my thighs, adding another layer to the intensity building between us.

“Keep quiet,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, a teasing edge in his tone as his fingers continued their deliberate movements, each touch leaving me feeling more unraveled, more vulnerable in the best possible way. I bit my lip, trying to stifle a moan, my breath shaky as I leaned back against his chest, feeling the steady, grounding beat of his heart against my back.

Then he paused, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to my shoulder. I felt him shift, his hands guiding me as he turned me around to face him, his gaze soft and full of that familiar warmth that always made me feel safe. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his thumb lingering along my cheek, his eyes holding mine with an intensity that left me feeling completely exposed, but in the best way.

“I want to see you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as his hands settled on my waist, steady and sure, pulling me close until there wasn’t a breath between us. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him down to me, letting our foreheads touch as our breaths mingled, the world outside fading completely.

“So beautiful… and all mine,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet intensity that sent a thrill through me, his lips brushing against my shoulder, lingering as though he wanted me to feel every word. I felt the warmth of his breath on my skin, each syllable wrapping around me, grounding me in his presence.

“I’m yours,” I whispered back, my voice soft but full of meaning, hoping he could feel everything I was trying to say, every layer of trust and love I was offering him in those two simple words.

We stayed close, our bodies pressed together, moving in sync, his hands steady on my waist as he held me. His mouth found mine, capturing me in a kiss that was both soft and intense, as if he wanted to savour every second. I felt his hand slip to the small of my back, guiding us gently down onto the bed, his body lowering over me, fitting perfectly against mine as he settled between my thighs.

His gaze held mine as he entered me again, filling me completely, every inch grounding me in the depth of what we shared. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close, letting myself sink into the moment, feeling the warmth and weight of him, our bodies fitting together in perfect harmony.

Our bodies moved together, falling into a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing, like an unspoken language we both understood. His forehead rested against mine, and he whispered, his voice barely a breath, “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I felt a smile tug at my lips, my hand moving to trace along his jaw, feeling the strength and gentleness in every inch of him. “So are you, baby,” I murmured, my voice thick with emotion, letting my fingers trail over his skin, grounding myself in the closeness we’d built. The way he looked at me, his gaze soft and full of something unbreakable, made my heart swell, and I felt like I was seeing every layer of him, every part he’d ever trusted me with.

As he pulled me closer, our bodies fitting perfectly, his lips brushed over my shoulder, each kiss filled with a tenderness that left me breathless. I arched into him, feeling my breath catch, every nerve alight as his mouth moved to my neck, leaving a trail of warmth that seemed to linger, grounding me in the intensity of the moment.

I let out a soft gasp, my fingers pressing into his shoulders, anchoring us both as we moved together, the rhythm between us building, steady and unrelenting, yet filled with a reverence that made it feel like we were rediscovering each other. He looked into my eyes, his gaze deep and unwavering, and I could see every feeling reflected there, every emotion he couldn’t put into words.

As the intensity grew, he wrapped an arm around my waist, lifting me just enough so that our bodies pressed even closer, amplifying the connection between us. His hand found mine, fingers intertwining, our grips tightening as we both reached that tipping point, holding onto each other as if we were afraid to let go.

He looked down at me, his gaze soft and filled with that familiar warmth that made me feel safe, cherished. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice rough with sincerity, his hands tightening around me, holding me as if he didn’t want to let go, as if he was afraid the moment would slip away.

The weight of his words, the depth in his eyes, made my heart swell, and I tightened my grip on him, feeling every beat of his heart, matching the rhythm of our bodies, our connection grounding us in something that felt endless. “I love you too,” I replied, “So much,” my voice soft but full of the certainty that came from knowing he was a part of me.

He kissed me deeply, our breaths mingling as we found our rhythm again, each movement building, drawing us closer. I could feel the intensity growing, every touch, every whispered word amplifying the connection between us, making it impossible to think of anything but him, but us.

When we finally came undone together, it was in a shared breath, a moment that felt endless, timeless, as though everything else in the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of us wrapped in each other. We stayed like that, holding each other close, letting the warmth and comfort of our connection settle around us, knowing that this—this shared intimacy and closeness—was exactly where we both wanted to be.

After, we lay together in the soft glow of the room, wrapped in the warmth of each other, the silence between us comfortable and filled with an understanding that needed no words. I nestled into him, feeling his fingers lazily tracing circles along my back, his other hand entwined with mine, both of us simply basking in the afterglow, letting the moment settle over us.

After a while, Hank let out a soft sigh, his gaze drifting around the room, a pensive look crossing his face. “It’s… surreal, you know?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Being here with you. Thinking about how much has changed since… since I was that kid growing up here.”

He paused, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes as he looked back at me. “Sometimes I feel like I’m still trying to shake off parts of who I was back then… like I’m always fighting to be something more.”

I squeezed his hand gently, letting him know I understood. “You’re not that boy anymore, Hank,” I said softly, my voice steady, filled with every bit of truth I felt. “You’ve become someone stronger. And I love who you’ve become.”

A small smile tugged at his lips as he looked down at me, his gaze softening, that familiar warmth returning to his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face. “For seeing me… for all of it.”

I leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, grounding us both in the quiet reassurance that, here together, we’d found something solid, something that embraced not just who we were but who we’d become. We stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, letting the comfort of the moment hold us close.

The next morning, a soft glow filtered in through the curtains, casting a gentle light across the room as I stirred awake, feeling the familiar warmth of Hank beside me. We shared a sleepy smile, our faces inches apart as we lay there, basking in the quiet comfort of the moment before finally getting up. The sounds of soft laughter and holiday music drifted up from the kitchen below, filling the house with a warmth that felt like home.

Hank wrapped an arm around my waist as we headed downstairs, the scent of fresh coffee and cinnamon drawing us in. His parents were already seated at the table, both beaming as they welcomed us into the cosy chaos of Christmas morning. The table was spread with all kinds of treats—freshly baked cinnamon rolls, scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and a small stack of pancakes his mum insisted was “just in case anyone was still hungry.” It was the kind of meal that made the house feel full of love, and I felt myself sink into the warmth of it, cherishing every moment.

After breakfast, we exchanged small, thoughtful gifts, an unexpected delight as we each presented our tokens of appreciation. Hank gifted his mum a delicate necklace with a small heart pendant, her face lighting up as she clutched it to her chest with teary eyes. For his dad, he handed over a beautifully bound edition of a classic baseball book they’d bonded over when he was a kid. Watching the pride in his dad’s eyes as he accepted the gift, I could see the shared memories, the way those moments had shaped Hank into who he was.

When it was my turn, I handed Hank a flat, square package wrapped neatly in silver paper with a hint of red ribbon. He raised an eyebrow, a curious smile playing on his lips as he carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a custom vinyl record, the cover designed with a simple but meaningful image of two coffee mugs resting together—a nod to the mornings we’d shared at our favourite café.

He opened the record sleeve and pulled out the insert, his face softening as he realised it was filled with personal notes about each song I’d chosen, each one a small piece of our journey together. I’d written why each track mattered—how certain songs reminded me of our first night together, our shared moments, and the music we’d bonded over, filling each line with memories and meaning.

He looked up, his eyes shining with emotion. “You made me a record?” he murmured, almost in disbelief, his thumb tracing along the edge of the sleeve. “With our songs?”

I nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. “It’s a mix tape… but a bit more permanent,” I said softly, watching him absorb each detail. “I thought… whenever you listen to it, you’ll have a little piece of us, no matter where we are.”

He let out a quiet laugh, almost overwhelmed, and pulled me close, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead. “You have no idea how much this means to me,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “Thank you, baby.”

I squeezed his hand, feeling my heart swell as I watched him run his fingers over the vinyl, already knowing he’d treasure it. This wasn’t just a gift—it was a piece of our story, something we could carry with us as a reminder of all the small moments that had brought us here.

Then, with a slight smirk, he handed me a small package wrapped neatly in red paper. I unwrapped it carefully, revealing a beautiful bracelet with three tiny charms—a book, a coffee cup, and a small disk. The book and coffee cup charms were sweet nods to our shared moments at the coffee shop, representing both my love of reading and our quiet mornings together. But it was the disk that caught my breath. Engraved on one side were our initials, and on the other, the date we first met at the bar—the night that had changed everything.

I traced a fingertip over the tiny engraving, feeling a rush of warmth as I looked down at the bracelet, each charm holding a piece of us. I slipped it on, feeling my heart swell, and leaned over to press a grateful kiss to his cheek, my fingers lacing with his as he gave my hand another squeeze. It was so perfectly us—simple yet filled with meaning, grounding me in the love and connection that filled the room.

After the gifts, we gathered in the living room for one of his family’s traditions—a viewing of White Christmas. His parents had set up a nest of blankets and pillows, and Hank and I settled onto the sofa, snuggled close with a blanket wrapped around us. As the movie played, we shared warm, loving glances and small touches, feeling completely at home in each other’s presence. Hank’s mum hummed along to the songs, and his dad recited lines he’d probably memorised years ago. There was something so comforting, so right, about being here, a part of this cherished tradition, experiencing the warmth and love that filled the room.

Every so often, Hank would glance down at me, his fingers tracing gentle circles on my hand, as if to remind me, without words, how much it meant to him that I was there. And in those shared, silent moments, I felt truly at home, wrapped in both his family’s love and his.

In the afternoon, Hank and I bundled up and headed out for a quiet walk through a nearby park. The air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and coastal pine, mingled with the faint salt of the nearby ocean. The ground was soft beneath our feet, scattered with leaves that had fallen from the evergreens lining the winding path. A gentle mist clung to the air, giving everything a quiet, peaceful atmosphere that felt almost magical. I slipped my hand into his, feeling the warmth of his fingers laced with mine as we wandered side by side, letting the calmness of the moment settle around us.

After a while, our conversation turned reflective. Hank paused, his gaze drifting out over the lake glimmering in the distance, his face thoughtful. “You know… being here with you feels so different,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand in a gentle, grounding motion. “It’s strange—almost surreal. There was a time when I felt stuck, like I’d never quite measure up. But having you here… it’s like everything makes sense in a way it didn’t before.”

A familiar warmth blossomed in my chest, and I felt the weight of his words settling over me. Standing here with him, the world muted around us, I realised this wasn’t just about him finding his place—it was about us finding something lasting in each other. My thoughts wandered to New York, to all the places and routines that had once felt so unchangeable, the city’s hustle grounding me in its own way. But here, with Hank beside me, I felt the same sense of belonging I’d known in my favourite café, our lazy Sundays, the quiet, familiar corners of our life together.

I looked up at him, my voice soft but filled with the truth of what I felt. “You’ve changed so much, Hank. You’re not that boy anymore… you’ve grown into someone I admire so deeply,” I said softly, my voice filled with all the love I felt for him. “I couldn’t be prouder of who you are now, and I’m so grateful to be part of your life.”

He looked down at me, his eyes softening, and I could see the gratitude there, the quiet appreciation for being seen and loved just as he was. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “For being here… for helping me find my way when I didn’t know how.”

We continued our walk, our steps falling into an easy rhythm, the quietness between us filled with an understanding that went beyond words. After a while, our conversation turned to the future, the idea of what we could build together. Hank paused, turning to face me, his gaze steady and filled with a gentle determination. “I know it’s just a thought, but… it’s amazing to realise that home doesn’t have to be one place. It’s more about who I’m with. And with you… I feel like I’m already there.”

I felt my heart swell at his words, a warmth blooming in my chest as I reached up to brush a hand along his cheek. “You make me feel so loved, Hank,” I whispered, my voice filled with the truth of it. “In a way I never expected. You make me feel like I belong, like I’m seen for everything I am.”

He leaned down, capturing my lips in a gentle, heartfelt kiss, a quiet promise of everything we’d shared and everything yet to come. As he pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, I could feel the silent vow between us—a promise to build a life together, wherever that might take us.

Hand in hand, we walked back toward his family home, the warmth of his presence grounding me, the sense of belonging settling into every corner of my heart. And as we approached the familiar, welcoming sight of his parents’ house, I felt a quiet confidence—a certainty that whatever the future held, we’d face it together.

We shared one last, lingering look before stepping inside, his fingers squeezing mine, a silent promise that spoke louder than words. And with that, we walked into the warmth of his family’s home, ready to face the future, side by side.

Masterlist

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #caught stealing #caught stealing fic #fan fiction #fanfic #hank thompson x you #hank thompson x y/n #hank thompson x reader #hank thompson fic #hank thompson #fiction #imagine

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trickphotography2 · 1 year ago

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'tis the damn season | Chapter 1

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Julie/Cece (OC, no physical description)

Word count: 3.8K

Synopsis: After six years away from home, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was finally going to make his parents happy and surprise his family by spending Christmas in Magnolia, Texas. Introducing his pregnant fiancee to his family is a culture clash, with rural Texas meeting California influencer. Though unhappy in his relationship, Jake knows he has to buckle down and do the right thing with a baby on the way.

The last person he expected to run into was his high school sweetheart and the one that got away, Julie.

The holidays are already going to be hard enough for Julie. Her home baking business, which had started as a fun side project, exploded after a few TikToks went viral. Just when she was getting the hang of juggling her job and business, tragedy struck. Facing her first Christmas as an orphan, the last thing Julie expected was to hear that once familiar nickname - Cece.

After almost a decade apart, Jake and Julie can't help but feel that old familiar spark. Even with the realities of their lives pressing in, they can't help but wonder what might have happened if just one of them had fought for their relationship all those years ago.

Master List | Ao3

---------------------------------------

Chapter 1

“It’s so…flat,” Shayla frowned.

“It’s Texas,” Jake shrugged, not taking his eyes off the road. A winter storm had blown through, delaying their flight and making the roads icy in the weak early morning sun. As usual, the streets further away from the city hadn’t been treated, and he’d already hit a couple of patches of ice. He only hoped that it would be better closer to home, but then again, rural Texas wasn’t exactly a priority for road treatment.

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t have gone to the Bahamas or somewhere warm,” she pouted. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, unwilling to engage in the argument that they’d had for the last few weeks.

The engagement ring he’d bought sat on her left hand. It hadn’t been the one she wanted - he couldn’t justify spending $10K on a piece of jewelry, especially since they had a baby on the way - but still took a chunk out of his savings. Apparently, her followers had approved, even though Shayla had commented about it being the ‘starter ring.’

With a sigh, Shayla flipped down the visor and fixed her bangs before taking out her phone and checking the lighting. Apparently satisfied, she turned on the camera, starting to pose and make faces as she filmed before holding it higher and placing a hand on her stomach, ensuring her engagement ring was in the frame. “Say hi, babe,” she finally said, flipping the camera toward him. He glanced over, unable to muster a fake smile for her video. “Jake.”

“I’m concentrating,” he snapped.

Her constant filming had been a novelty when they'd first started dating. She’d been trying to launch a career as an influencer, sharing dating experiences while doing her makeup or documenting her daily life. He didn’t exactly get the appeal, but whatever. As they got more serious, she roped him into more of the videos - at first, just glimpses of them working out together or in the car, then making dinner and going out. After he set the firm boundary that she couldn’t film nights out at the Hard Deck with the Daggers, which was an argument in itself, she refused to go. Instead, she tried to drag him to other spots. Eventually, Shayla caught the attention she was craving, and her follower list grew. With it came products that cluttered up her apartment and offers to appear at restaurants around California.

The more her internet fame grew, the more Shayla pulled him into her videos. While drunk one night, she’d let it slip that her view rates skyrocketed when he made an appearance, and he tried not to read too much into it that she usually tried to have him half naked. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin wasn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination and worked hard to keep his body in top physical shape. He knew he looked good, but the muscles were born from long hours working on the ranch and later maintained for his job.

For ten months, Jake had put up with it. A two-month deployment had prolonged the inevitable, but the final nail in the coffin had been the fact that Shayla barely seemed to care that he was gone until he was back and shoved a camera in his face while sobbing about how much she missed him. Back on land, he quickly scrolled through the videos she’d posted while he was at sea only to see that she’d screen-recorded their few calls and talked about how hard it was to be a military dependent. It was satisfying to see the military spouses in the comments tearing her apart about the fact that she wasn’t a dependent until she had a marriage license.

He’d already planned on breaking up with her as soon as he got home but felt bad about doing it when she’d already planned a couples’ costume and lined up sponsors for her video. Finding her making out with someone else in the bathroom at a Halloween party after they’d had a quickie in the truck helped bolster his case for ending the relationship.

Jake had thought that was the end until she showed up at the Hard Deck looking for him. When he’d brushed her off, she ambushed him at his apartment the next day and demanded to speak to him, throwing a positive pregnancy test in his face when he tried to close the door.

And with that, Jake knew he had to do the right thing. He would never abandon his kid, even if it meant trying to figure out how to fall in love with his now-fiancee.

Snow covered the fields as Jake drove under the arch, announcing they’d reached the Seresin ranch. Cows meandered, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the calves with knitted ear muffs courtesy of his mother. As a kid, it had been his job to check that the calves hadn’t managed to knock them off overnight before going to school.

Since joining the Navy, Jake hadn’t spent as much time home as he should, according to his mother. Instead of returning to Texas, he took advantage of being able to travel cheaply on the military’s dime. So far, he’d made it to England, Italy, Spain, Morocco, Japan, and Korea. He sent souvenirs home to his parents, who weren’t quite sure what to make of their youngest.

Bill and Kerry, proud owners of the Seresin Dairy and Horse Ranch and prouder parents to Bill Junior - who constantly reminded the family that he went by Will now - and Jake, had done what they could to support their sons. Will took after his father and wanted nothing more than to take over the ranch when the time came. Jake had fallen in love with flying after going up in the neighbor’s crop duster when he was eight, and his head had never left the clouds. Whenever they went into town, Jake would beg to stop at Magnolia’s little library to get books on aviation. As he got older, he devoured the biographies of the Wright Brothers, Charles Lindberg, Amelia Earhart, and military aviators turned astronauts.

When the time came to apply for college, he drove his beat-up truck down to Lubbock, dressed in his Sunday best to meet with his congressional representative to request a nomination to the Naval Academy.

Two months after graduating high school, Jake’s family drove him to the airport and wished him good luck. Plebe summer took all of his attention, and he could barely think about life outside the Annapolis campus, let alone what was happening at home. Days were spent learning the proud Naval traditions, military terminology, and expectations between physical training. Nights were spent with the other plebes, trying to keep their eyes open long enough to study. His two-week break at home was spent catching up on sleep and answering questions the few times he ventured into town.

After his Third Class summer, it was harder to come home. Summers were spent at sea or sent to different bases. His Mama pushed for him to come home for the holidays, but between the flights and drive, it wasn’t always worth it. He started to spend time with his classmates whose families lived closer. Spring Break was spent at Myrtle Beach, relaxing in the freedom away from early morning classes and strict behavioral regulations.

Christmas was when his father put his foot down - that was for the family. Come hell or high water, he expected his sons to be home. Will had no problem with it. He’d met his wife, Allison, while studying animal science at Texas A&M. Once she finished training as a large animal veterinarian, he moved back to Magnolia. After graduating from the Academy, Jake found it harder. As a single guy, he felt terrible about taking time off from aviators with kids who wanted to spend the holiday with them. So he didn’t ask for leave and spent the holiday getting dinner at the mess and calling his family, trying to ignore the sadness and resignation in his mother’s voice.

Which is why this trip needed to be perfect. After six years away from home, Jake Seresin would finally make his parents happy and spend Christmas in Magnolia with a pregnant fiancee by his side. He owed it to his mother after putting her through so much disappointment.

A beat-up red truck was out in the field, moving slowly as the herd followed, and Will pitched hay off the bed. His hand curled on the steering wheel, the phantom feeling of a pitchfork and a hand on his shoulder sneaking over him. “Steady, son.” His Pop’s voice echoed the words he’d said the first time Jake had taken over the job, nearly falling backward into the hay bales when Will hit a divot.

“So you actually, like, grew up on a farm?” Shayla asked, nose scrunching the the loud mooing.

“I told you I grew up on a ranch.”

“I thought it was horses or something.”

“We have those too.” An SUV was parked next to his Mama’s ancient truck in front of the house. Parking behind the truck, Jake took a moment to glance at himself in the rearview mirror. For all the reasons he imagined coming back to Magnolia, this hadn’t been one of them. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he glanced over at Shayla, who studied the house.

From an outsider's perspective, it looked pretty impressive. His grandfather - whom Jake was named after - had built it for his grandmother after they inherited the ranch. He could remember sitting on the wrap-around porch with his grandmother, snapping green beans and shucking corn for supper, listening to stories about the cowboys that used to work on the ranch. Every other summer would find all the Seresin boys, regardless of their age, painting Granny’s house a new coat of white. The upper floor had a breezeway connecting two of the six bedrooms, which Jake had used pretty often when sneaking out of the house once they moved from the foreman quarters into the main house when Pops inherited.

Mama had decorated for Christmas. Garland was draped over the porch banisters, and lights and red ribbon wrapped around the posts. A wreath hung on the door, and lights hung from the roof. In every window, he could see the electric candles she would go room by room lighting. Of everyone in the family, she was the biggest fan of the holiday, lovingly bullying the men in her family to embrace the cheer.

“Damn,” Shayla said. “I’ll get some awesome Christmas footage here.” Pressing his lips into a thin line to keep any unkind words from escaping, Jake flung open his door and quickly circled the rental to help her out.

“Watch for ice,” he cautioned. A glimpse at her phone screen showed that she was already recording. “Could you put that away?”

“I want to catch the first time I meet your parents.”

“Shay.” Scoffing, she rolled her eyes and reluctantly stopped. “Thank you.”

“Whatever.” Gritting his teeth, he turned on his heel and walked towards the house, automatically jumping over the creaky second step. Jake hesitated a moment at the door before raising his fist and knocking twice, then twisting the knob. It turned easily in his hand, and he pushed it open. “You’re just walking in? What if they shoot you?” Choosing to ignore her, he stepped inside his childhood home.

The smell of coffee and cinnamon washed over him, and he knew the family would already be on the second pot at this time of the morning. Pops and Will would have taken most of the first with them into the barn and fields, with Mama finishing it and starting the next before her chores. After kicking off his shoes and glancing at Shay to ensure she did the same, he walked the familiar path to the kitchen.

Family pictures decorated the walls, and he let himself really look at them for the first time in ages. His grandparents stood proudly in front of the house, his parents' wedding photo. The first time he and Will were on a horse. Will and Ally’s wedding and his graduation from the Academy.

“Where is everyone?” Shay asked as they stepped into the large kitchen. Like much of the house, it was clearly older but lovingly maintained. The coffee pot gurgled on the counter, and Jake made a beeline for it, retrieving a mug from the cabinet above.

“Working somewhere. You want some?”

“No. Coffee’s not good for the baby.” Nodding, he poured himself a cup and tried not to think too hard about the coffee she’d demanded before getting on the plane in California. Spotting a tray of cinnamon rolls on the stove, he quickly retrieved a plate and cut one for himself. At his raised eyebrow, Shayla scrunched her nose and shook her head.

The roll was fluffy and soft as he bit into it, quickly followed by the rich caramel icing. He moaned, not remembering his Mama’s cinnamon rolls being this good. After polishing off his first, Jake was halfway through his second when he heard voices from the back patio. Quickly, he set the plate down and stood beside Shayla, who looked up from her phone and smirked as he ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“You’ve got some icing,” she said, brushing the corner of his mouth as the back door opened. After licking the sugar from her thumb, her hand rested on his chest before he could step back.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God - look what the cat dragged in!” his mother exclaimed. Jake turned to greet her but froze when his gaze landed on the woman standing behind her, a basket of eggs hanging limply from her hand. Her red-rimmed eyes widened as they darted between him and Shayla.

“Mama. Cece.”

Nine Years Ago

When Jake pictured his life imploding, he hadn’t imagined it so… quiet.

Cece sat beside him on the couch, gaze lowered as she fiddled with the engagement ring he’d slid onto her finger at his Academy graduation, dropping to one knee on the field and asking to be her husband before disappearing into flight school. The replacement for the class ring he’d put on her finger before he left her in Texas at 18 with a promise of forever.

He’d naively hoped that they could push off this conversation, give it some more time to figure out how to be with one another again. To set up their home in Virginia as he navigated being a Naval Aviator and she tried to find her footing in a new town. That they could go back to how easy it was before spending the last five years apart. “Jake,” she sighed.

“Don’t.” Resignation was etched in her features when her eyes met his, and he hated it.

“We - ”

“Please, Cece.” Her eyes closed, and she took a deep breath, lips pressing into a thin line as her chin wobbled.

“Are you happy?” she asked after a long time. “Be honest.”

“Yeah. I’m happy you’re here. That we’re finally together. Are you?”

“I… I don’t know.” Those three little words felt like a blow to the chest, and Jake inhaled sharply. “I just… this doesn’t feel…”

“Like before.” She nodded, and he deflated. “I know.” Relief flooded her face, and her shoulders sagged as though a huge weight had been lifted.

“I thought it was just me.”

“No, Cupcake. Not just you.” Tears flooded her eyes, and she gave him a watery smile. “It’s only been two months. We just need some time to figure out our new normal.”

“How much time are we supposed to give it?”

“I dunno. More than two months.”

“Three years?” Unable to meet her gaze, his eyes dropped to watch her twist the ring. “I think we can both admit that things have been hard for a while. And that we got used to being apart from each other.”

“We can get used to being together again.” At her silence, he reached out and caught her hand, gently tugging her across the couch. Reluctantly, Cece let herself be drawn closer and settled in his lap, knees digging into the cushions at his hips. His hands slid up her thighs to wrap around her waist. “I love you, Julie.”

Her name on his lips sounded so foreign. To everyone else, she was Julie. She’d only been Cupcake or Cece after making Jake a birthday treat in eighth grade, carefully packaging it in her lunch box to present him at school. Always seated next to each other in class, it had been hard to avoid the Seresin boy.

If she looked closely, Julie could still see traces of that farm boy she’d grown up with in the man she loved. There was still a mischievous glint in his green eyes and dimples that she took pride in making appear when he smiled. He was still awake at first light and a wicked tease.

But those glimpses were rare. Jake had told her that his first few years as a junior officer would be busy, but she hadn’t expected to see so little of him. She made an effort to get up with him before work and then settled in to job hunt or wedding plan while he was gone. After work, he either wanted to go to the bar with the other young pilots, or he was too tired to do more than shower, eat, and collapse into bed. Simply put, this hadn’t been the life Julie imagined while living alone in Austin for a year after graduating from the University of Texas, waiting for him to finish flight school. While her friends had moved on to careers, marriages, and grad school, she waited.

Just like she always had.

When Jake got into the Naval Academy, he’d explained that cadets couldn’t be married. And at 18, she wasn’t ready for that commitment. So instead, he’d put his class ring on her finger and promised they would get married as soon as he graduated. For four years, she’d worn the ring on a chain around her neck and tried to push away her jealousy, watching her friends spend time with boys and having fun in the clubs. A small part of her had always felt guilty when a man had pressed against her while dancing, his hands holding her tightly and asking her to come home. Every night she went home alone, she reminded herself that four years was nothing in the face of forever.

Their weeks together felt like stolen time - spring breaks in South Carolina, a few weeks during the summer, and Christmas in Magnolia. And just when the end was in sight, Jake came home for Christmas his last year of school and told her he’d been accepted into the pilot program. “It’s just another year and a half after graduation,” he’d explained. And when she asked where he’d be living, he couldn’t meet her eyes while explaining that he would be moving to different bases every few months, so it didn’t make sense for her to come with him.

“Cupcake?” Jake said softly, pulling her from her thoughts. He gently ran a knuckle along her jaw, paying particular attention to the scar on her chin, earned when she slipped on a patch of black ice and fell face-first into his truck junior year of high school. They’d spent a few hours in the emergency room, his bloody shirt pressed to her face until she got stitched up.

“If I said I wanted to get married today, what would you say?” Julie asked. Try as he might to hide it, she caught it - that brief flicker of panic in his eyes before it disappeared.

“What about the wedding?” It was his turn to catch the flash of irritation before her expression smoothed. The wedding had been a point of contention for a while - Jake knew that she wanted his input, but he’d never been interested in party planning before.

“I said married, not the wedding. Would you marry me today?” There was a moment’s hesitation before he nodded.

“Of course. I love you.” A sad look crossed her face before Julie cupped his cheek and gently kissed him.

“I love you too. And I always will. But I-I don’t know if that’s enough.” Jake pulled back.

“What?” he demanded, fingers digging into her hips, hit with the irrational fear that she would run if he let her go. Her glistening eyes met his for a moment before darting away.

“I love you so much,” she said softly. “And I have since you kissed me under the mistletoe at the winter formal. But I am so, so lonely.” Tears slipped down her cheeks as her voice broke, and he felt his heart fracture. “I moved here for you, to a place where I don’t know anyone and barely see you. And I sit in this house all day and think about my life in Texas, where I missed you, but I was happy. I had a life and friends, and I could see my daddy whenever I wanted. And I missed you, but missing you has been my normal since high school. I love you, and I have put my life on hold for almost six years because I love you. And I was happy to do that so you could chase your dream. B-but…I didn’t realize that I was giving up my life and my dreams because of a promise we made when we were 18.”

“Cece,” Jake breathed, tugging her closer as she started to sob, tears soaking his uniform's shoulder. “Tell me how to fix this.” At that, she cried harder, and he felt the numbing realization that there was nothing he could do.

Cece lifted her head from his shoulder when her tears faded into hiccups. His green eyes were reddened when she cupped his damp cheeks. The taste of salt and sadness merged when their lips brushed. “I’m sorry,” she breathed.

“Me too. I-I want you to be happy, baby.”

Which was why he didn’t fight her. He helped her pack up the car a week later, forced the engagement ring she tried to return back into her hand, and kissed her one last time. And then watched as she drove out of his life.

Then, Jake realized how hard it was to be the one left behind while the person you loved chased their dreams.

-----------------------------------------

Author's note: Welcome to my angsty holiday fic! A major thank you to @mamachasesmayhem for letting me bounce ideas off of her for this story, and being such a lovely cheerleader ❤️

Read Chapter 2

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please comment below. I do check that readers are 18+

Taglist: @mamachasesmayhem; @buckysteveloki-me; @fanficfandomlove; @maeleeme; @djs8891; @kmc1989; @justenoughmadness

#top gun fic #top gun maverick #jake seresin #Hangman top gun #soft!Jake Seresin #hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x oc #hangman x oc #'tis the damn season fic

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gunnerfc · 1 year ago

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❄️ WOSO FICMAS: Dec. 15 - Christen Press❄️

Christen Press x Reader (USWNT & Gotham) | WC: 574

Dec. 15 prompt - date night looking at Christmas lights/decorations

-> woso ficmas masterlist can be found here!

Playing in the NWSL was fun for the most part, you were close to home and it was easier to spend time with Christen. While you played on opposite sides of the country, it was easier to travel between California and New York than to a different country.

You and Christen had decided to spend part of the Christmas holidays in New York this year, having spent every other Christmas in LA. With Christen’s injury, you didn’t want to push her in the things the two of you did when you went out but she was insistent on seeing New York in its Christmas glory.

This is how you found yourself walking through a neighborhood in Brooklyn that was known for its Christmas decorations. Christen’s hand held tightly in yours as you walked down the sidewalk, taking in the sights of all the colorful lights and life-sized decorations.

“Babe! Look at the Santa!” the forward gasped, eyes wide as she pointed at a very large Santa display that included a sleigh and the reindeer.

“That would take up my entire apartment,” you joked, but you weren't entirely wrong.

Christen laughed as you two kept walking, still having many houses to see. As you kept walking, the lights were reflecting across Christen’s face and you couldn’t help but focus on her. You were pulled from your thoughts when Christen pulled your hand suddenly, trying to keep you from running to someone.

“Gotta watch where you're going, babe!” Christen giggled, pulling you into her side.

“I was distracted by the pretty view,” you flirted, sending her a quick wink.

Christen’s face flushed at your comment, and she turned her head quickly so you couldn’t see the blush spreading across her cheeks. It was your turn to giggle as you pulled away from her, forcing her to stop under a brightly lit arch at the end of a driveway.

The forward raised an eyebrow at your sudden stop but all she got in return was a bright smile from you. You took her face in your hands, pulling her into an intense kiss. It was short but full of love, wanting her to feel how in love with her you were.

When you pulled away, your smile was just as bright as you tilted her head up slightly so she could see the mistletoe that had been hung.

“You gotta kiss under the mistletoe, baby. It's the rules,” you said, jokingly shrugging your shoulders.

Christen had a bright smile on her face as she leaned for one more quick kiss before you two started walking down the sidewalk once again. You walked past a few more houses before deciding you needed to head back to your place for the night.

You hailed a cab, giving the driver your address as you slid into the back seat. Your hand never left Christen’s for the whole drive home, only letting go briefly for you to pay and tip your cab driver.

The two of you settled in for the night pretty quickly, needing to get a lot of rest for the upcoming days. Christen had taken it upon herself to plan out multiple date nights surrounding Christmas in the city to truly experience the holidays in New York. While most of the things she had planned weren't new to you, you didn't care since it meant you got to see her all excited to experience what you've already experienced.

#woso x reader #woso #christen press x reader #christen press #uswnt x reader #uswnt

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itwasrealtome · 4 months ago

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BEST BELOVED

CHAPTER FOUR — DAMN RIGHT, I’VE GOT THE BLUES

⚠️ DO NOT READ IF THIS MIGHT TRIGGER YOU

Scarlett Johansson x fem!OC fic | Masterlist

Summary :

Content Warning : Elle listening to some Buddy Guy | New School | Discovering a new place and new people | Carter hates LA and misses Portland

Navigation :

Chapter Three

Chapter Five

Don’t miss any more chapters or info by being tagged

TikTok

•••

LOS ANGELES — CALIFORNIA

DECEMBER 06, 2016

Carter hated Los Angeles.

From its sweltering heat to its crowded streets and inhabitants. He'd only been there two short weeks and was already missing Portland. Not what he would have liked to call home, or the people who were supposed to be his family, but the city itself. The alleys of Japanese maples, the café where he played his first guitar notes in public and, above all, the weather in favor of a snowy Christmas.

Here, the air was stifling and the sun never seemed to take a break. Even sprawled out in his new bed, the atmosphere seemed to descend on him, crushing his chest. Repainting the walls and assembling the furniture had been an ordeal for him. Unlike his sister, who seemed accustomed to the Californian air, Carter was still wiping the corner of his eyebrow and inhaling every second.

In the car, the ordeal was the same. But at least he could enjoy the occasional light breeze. He leaned back, his cap hitting the headrest of the seat, his long legs stretched out to the glove compartment. For someone who has money, he thought, it's definitely no luxury.

— Don said it’s a very good school, reminds Elle, taking her eyes off the road for a second. They have excellent results and programs.

— Yeah, whatever…

Chewing gum wrapped around his tongue, Carter blew until the bubble burst in his face. Elle flinched at the sound though she tried to hide it. She nudged her brother's shoulder, a heavy sigh covering Buddy Guy's voice.

— I'm doing this for you.

It was as if the words were floating around in the vehicle without ever reaching their intended target. The dark-haired teenager's face was now glued to the glass, his eyes glued to the immense building looming overhead. It was by no means the same kind of school as the one Aunt Nancy had placed him in.

The facade alone was impressively large. From their parking place, he could see teachers dressed in a clean and serious manner, but also students who did not seem at all to be petty criminals. Yeah, it was definitely a big change.

— I know it's nothing like the shithole we grew up in, but I think you're going to love it here.

Carter simply shrugged, following the actress blindly, hands clutching his backpack. He relied heavily on his feet to lead him to the right place. The sight of the path through the trees didn't interest him. He wanted to see the branches move with the light breeze and the white chalk of the walls lighten with the sun. If he had to face this view for the rest of the year, then it was nothing like the hell he'd imagined.

— Ah. Ms. Wiley, it's a great honor to have you here in our school. The school principal spent some extra time buttering Elle up, before realizing Carter’s presence. And you, young man, must be Carter.

Carter shook her hand and gave a brief, shy smile. He suddenly felt his cheeks heating up, just as they did when attention was focused on him. Only this time, Elle was right by his side.

— I hear you have an excellent program for athletes. I'm quite interested, can you tell me more about it?

The woman went into her lengthy explanations and began guiding her guests around the establishment. Elle didn't care much for the school's sports program, but she knew Carter did. He trailed behind the two women, his gaze darting all over the place, swallowing each piece of information he was given.

His sister was right. This building was nothing like the one they'd known. The corridors were huge, well-lit and furnished with rows of lockers that still looked new, or at least functional. He was surprised to find that the refectory was clean and free of tags on walls and tables, something to which he'd become accustomed in his old school. Only a few kilometers stood between him and the place he had once known, yet he had the distinct impression of being in another world.

When both women halted, Carter missed his cue and lightly jostled his sister. He murmured a simple apology, tightening the grip on his backpack straps. Elle quietly patted his shoulder and prompted him to focus on the space in front of them, where one of the school’s gymnasiums stood out. Her knowing smile betrayed her familiarity with her brother's interests. There were only two places to find Carter: the music classroom and the gymnasium, ball in hand.

— Coach Cruz has already studied your profile, Carter. Let me tell you, if you keep up the good work, you'll soon be the team's new star.

The brunet only nodded, too absorbed by the sound of soles on the wooden floor, the whistles and the power of the strikes to find words. Los Angeles may not have been home, but this place could be.

He could already see himself practicing for hours on end, improving his sets and shots, making this room his reference point. The equipment didn't look as bad as he'd imagined.

Here, at least, they had equipment.

— I have a couple of matters to settle with Mrs. Hale. stated Elle, her hand massaging the nape of her brother's neck. Why don't you introduce yourself and take a walk? I won't be long.

Before he could react, Principal Hale had already called the coach over to them. Cruz was a man in his fifties, with an athletic bearing and a posture that showed immense respect. His handshake was strong and seemed genuine. And for the first time since he'd been in his sister's company, Carter saw a man more preoccupied with his sport than with the actress' beautiful face.

— Hey son, welcome to the team. Cruz guided him with a hand on his shoulder, his fatherly posture almost reassuring for a young boy like Carter. You're gonna love it here!

•••

Taglist : @micaluvssoccer @rain-mikaelson @red1culous @taylucky13 @womenlovingwomen-imagines @aqiia24 @youdontknowwhotfiamm @mmmmokdok @unexpected-character @iheartmilfies @natalia-quinzel @electricboost @angeliqueh5331 @emskisworld @sami1642 @waltermis @imjai02 @enjoytheentireworld @jatrovyknedl @madamevirgo @lyak12 @anku1901 @ssaaggwwaa @marvelandotheruniversesloveradhd @canvasscoloredin @butwhynothavesomwmore @hi-1-1-blog @g1u2y @fanfiction-24824 @greyslover3004

#bestbeloved #new chapter #ellewiley #carterwiley #scarlett johansson x oc #scarlett johansson masterlist #scarlett johansson x reader

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sunflowersandsapphires · 1 year ago

Text

Tis the Damn Season

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: Based on a request from the lovely @dorothleah, Matt and his childhood best friend have a realization at Christmastime.

warnings: smut adjacent times (it’s just spicy towards the end, nothing graphic), descriptions of family holidays (they’re positive), Christmas specific, swearing

A/n: ahhhhh this one was so difficult to write—I really hope I did the prompt justice. (Also, this is set early on in S1 but let’s just pretend that all the bombing stuff didn’t happen bc that would definitely overshadow Matt’s holidays. Plus Mrs. Cardenas was an Angel so she is still alive and living her best life somewhere outside of this piece because I said so.)

w/c: ~4k

Breathing deeply, you couldn’t help but smile as the bitter cold wind swirled around you. Despite the extreme temperatures, winter in New York was beautiful. Layers of silver clouds drifted through the city, muting the constant stream of artificial light into something less aggressive, more ethereal. The thin layer of snow covering every exposed surface created a gorgeous blank slate of sorts, like an untouched page in a child’s coloring book. Monotone and full of possibilities. It was a sight you missed dearly, so much so that your heart flipped every year when you stepped out of the airport and back into the city you were raised in.

California was beautiful too, of course–not that you’d gotten to see much of it between your 8 years of post-secondary school and 2.5 years of residency so far. Even summer breaks had been spent studying or interning, rather than visiting the gorgeous beaches or tourist attractions across the state. When you found yourself swamped with work and longing for a break, you never dreamed of California, though. Only of New York.

Which is why the winter holidays were so important to you now. This was the only opportunity you had to visit family, to visit Matt. Most years, you spent about a week with your family for Christmas and spent a few wonderful evenings with your beloved childhood-best-friend-turned-charitable-defense-attorney, but this year was unique.

After encouraging your parents to take a much needed vacation, you’d mentioned to Matt that you were struggling to find a hotel to house you for the holidays. Charming and protective man that he was, he was appalled that you hadn’t asked to stay with him instead–arguing passionately with you until you agreed to stay at his loft for a couple days rather than spend the holidays alone.

Which led you on the snow-laced journey from the baggage claim to Matt’s front door, which you studied apprehensively, hand frozen in a fist that hadn’t yet knocked. The fluttering in your stomach was inevitable, your nerves always acted up when you saw Matt, but it was especially intense when your mind was occupied with the knowledge that you’d be surrounded by him and his things for a weekend.

Blowing out a breath, you let your eyes fall shut as you knocked rapidly on the door, the percussive sound echoing the pulsing in your ears. Footsteps padded down the hallway towards you, halting at the door as it slowly creaked open.

“Hi Matty,” Your voice was quiet, your cheeks blooming with warmth as he grinned at you. His beautiful smile hadn’t changed at all, still revealing the wit and mischief of the 14 year old you’d met all those years ago at St. George College Prep.

His signature red glasses twinkled with the reflection of the flickering hallway lights. “Long time, no see, sweetheart.”

As the familiar joke vaporized your anxiety, you dove into his open arms with a squeal. He was as warm and muscular as ever, his arms tightening around you as if waiting for you to dissolve. You weren’t sure how long you stood there, basking in the comfort of his embrace and letting it melt a year of stress away.

While you were enjoying the first hug you’d received in too long, Matt remained almost rigid beneath your touch–his brain counting every second and wondering where the line would need to be drawn. He could have stayed in your grasp all day, but that wasn’t what “friends” did, right? Inhaling deeply, he pulled away from you.

“C’mon, sweet girl, let’s get you inside and warmed up.” Taking your hand, Matt guided you down the hallway and into his apartment, the sight of which made you gasp.

Strings of multicolored lights were strung around the perimeter, wrapped around every available surface in a festive tangle. A small, but otherwise impressive, fir tree stood against the massive paneled windows, smattered with glittering ornaments and candy canes.

The air suddenly felt forced out of your lungs, your breath staggering like a newborn foal as you surveyed every inch of the apartment. When your parents had booked their holiday cruise, you’d been slightly devastated–which wasn’t fair of you, since you’d encouraged them to get away for the month, but that didn’t stop your heart from aching at the thought of the traditions you’d miss. Christmas was your parents’ favorite holiday, and they went all out each year–decorating the house with gorgeous poinsettias and tinsel, buying the largest tree they could find at the local farm, stringing lights around the entire house. The festive beauty of your family home was one of your favorite sights, and you weren’t ready for the absence of decor.

But the absence never came, because you had Matt, the most amazing best friend a girl could ask for. The man who knew you inside out, and had anticipated your reaction to skipping a family Christmas, taking it upon himself to make up for their departure.

Biting your lips as tears threatened to fall, you let Matt enfold you in another hug, a drop of moisture rolling down your cheek when his lips pressed against your forehead.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“You did all this for me? Matt, I–” Withdrawing from the shelter of his arms, you strode around the apartment, running your fingers along the wires Matt had painstakingly decked his apartment with.

“Before you get too grateful, you should know that Foggy helped.” Matt laughed, rocking from foot to foot as he waited for you to take it all in.

Giggling at his glowing blush, you nodded, “Well, you both did an amazing job. Ugh, I could kiss you right now!”

The words slipped out of your mouth without a thought, but they froze Matt in place.

Your relationship with him was unlike any of the other friendships he held. There was a flicker of something deeper–a tense heat simmering underneath every touch, a magnetism that simultaneously drew you together and forced you apart.

After knowing you for 15 years, Matt could read you as if you were composed of braille. Every inhale, every pulse of your heart, every flutter of arousal from you crafted a story of love that he was terrified of losing. Neither of you could handle the stress of a long distance relationship. So, he held you close while keeping you at arm’s length.

Or, at least, he had. The urge to abandon all logic and act on his wildest desires was growing stronger by the minute. Treading over to where you stood, admiring the Christmas tree, Matt encircled your waist with his arms, tilting his nose against your temple.

“I missed you.” He murmured against your cheek.

“I missed you too, handsome. So much.” You leaned backwards into Matt’s firm chest, tangling your fingers with his.

Swaying slightly as he held you, Matt stayed silent, allowing you to soak up every ounce of joy from each tiny detail of the holiday ambiance he had painstakingly put together. Sure, it had been a chore, but it was absolutely worth it for the skip of your heart beat, the stutter of your breath as you held back happy tears. He’d do anything to give you the Christmas you deserved, and that included enlisting Foggy as his eyes for a week of decorating.

Because he was human, and his patience could only be strained so much, he eventually pressed a kiss to your head and spun you to face him. “Ok, I think it’s about time for me to pull my responsible host card and remind you that you need to eat.”

Laughing at his smirk, you nodded eagerly. “You’re right, I’m starving.”

“Really? I had no idea.” Matt gasped in feigned surprise, sparking another round of giggles from you.

“Shut up, asshole. I was admiring your hard work! Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?” You shoved at Matt’s chest fondly.

“You’re right, I apologize,” Matt chuckled with you, rocking backwards after your playful push. “Have a taste for anything in particular?”

“Anywhere you want to take me, Matty.” You grinned.

_____________________________________________________________________

Nearly tripping over a crack in the sidewalk as you laughed brightly, you were launched into another set of giggles as Matt caught you by the elbow. Comfortably full after dining at Matt’s new favorite Thai place, the two of you ambled around the city catching up on the last year.

“Christ, you’re going to break something.” Matt sighed, but he was beaming at you. “That would honestly serve you right, though, after laughing at my pain.”

“I’m sorry Matty, but the idea of you wearing one of those bikini body shirts is amazing. Foggy is a pranking genius!” You crooned, jealous that you hadn’t been there to witness the practical joke.

“This from the woman who tricked me ruthlessly every April Fool’s Day.” Matt shook his head, biting back a grin as his mind flooded with memories from your shared childhood.

“Oh please, toothpaste oreos and salted coffee is child’s play, Murdock.” You jested, letting your joined arms grow taut as you leaned towards an enticing display in the window of a store you were passing.

“Hmm, well I’ll continue waiting for an apology then.” Matt turned his nose into the air teasingly.

“Should I buy you another Christmas gift to make up for the torture I put you through?” Without waiting for a response, you entered the doorway of the quiet little shop you’d been admiring, drawing Matt up the steps after you.

Carefully studying the rows of vibrantly colored trinkets, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace as you wandered the store. You let your mind wander as you ran your fingers along the rack of knit sweaters you were ogling. Somewhere in the rush to look through the myriad of options, you’d dropped Matt’s hand. Swiveling your head over your shoulder, your heart jumped when you didn’t see Matt behind you.

Before you had a chance to panic, a calloused hand tangled with yours, tucking you back into your friend’s warm side.

“God, Matty, I thought I lost you!”

“Don’t fret, sweetheart, I’ll always find you.” Matt murmured, his voice steady with truth as he kissed your temple.

Leaning into his touch, your heart twirled at the sentiment, emotions welling up in your throat. Squeezing Matt’s hand, you coughed around the lump in your esophagus, eyes once again roaming the row of sweaters. “Did you want to get out of here? You said we were meeting your friends tonight, right?”

“Yes,” Matt answered, a bit hastily given that he was still trying to decipher your reaction to his words. “Uh, yah, we aren’t too far from Josie’s.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t tell me we’re meeting at Josie’s! Fuck, I’m glad the place hasn’t been condemned after all these years.”

“Foggy and I have done our due diligence. The health department must have our pictures taped over dart boards by now.”

“My two favorite menaces to society,” You laughed. “I’m embarrassed to admit that you may have to lead me there. My navigation of the city is a bit rusty this year.”

“You’ve been away too long.” Matt tutted in disapproval. “Far too long.”

You grew silent beside him, your fingers twitching in his hold. “I know, Matty.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean—“ He started but you interrupted.

“Oh, I know you didn’t. And I miss you too.” Matt withheld from turning to you in surprise before you corrected your statement. “I mean, I miss you and my family and the city, you know? I love California, it’s just not the same.”

Cursing yourself for fumbling over your words instead of just admitting to Matt how much you wanted to stay here with him, you tugged at your lower lip with your teeth to keep from rambling any further. Twin blooms of heat pricked across your cheeks, your eyes falling shut with regret and longing.

Matt bumped your hip with his. “Hey, don’t go quiet on me. We still have more catching up to do.”

The corner of your mouth twitched into a small smile. “Oh yah?”

“Of course! I haven’t even told you about the kitchen fire that Foggy set at Landman and Zach in the spring.”

Snorting in disbelief, you shook your head. “How on earth did you two not get fired?”

“He blamed it on a partner.” Matt grinned, making you chuckle.

The walk to Josie’s was short and filled with pleasant conversation, despite the brief hiccup. When you finally reached the familiar dive bar, you inhaled deeply, smiling at the sour odor of stale beer and tobacco.

Inside, the sticky floors and dim lighting immediately transported you back to the first time Matt brought you here, begging you to come with him to the “Jewel of Hell’s Kitchen”. Sure, it was more cubic zirconia than a diamond in the rough, but you understood why Matt loved it. The atmosphere was unmistakably familiar. No bells and whistles, just cheap beer and good company.

“This way,” Matt lead you further into the establishment, waving at Foggy and a gorgeous blonde woman who were seated near the windows.

Foggy leapt up to tackle you in a hug as soon as you were within hugging distance, crushing your lungs before you could laugh. “God, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Way to rub it in, bud.” Matt scoffed, smirking when his business partner gave an exaggerated eye roll.

“You’ve seriously got to teach me how to keep him in line.” Foggy sighed, scowling at the dark-haired man.

“You think I know how to do that?” You chuckled incredulously. “I’m not sure that’s possible without divine intervention.”

“C’mon, you’re practically the Matt-tamer.” Foggy cajoled, spinning around to face the table. “Karen, Matt-tamer. Matt-tamer, meet our lovely receptionist, Karen Page.”

Laughing as Foggy gestures towards the seated woman, you gave her your real name.

Karen smiled brightly, reaching her hand out for you to shake.

“You know, I could’ve introduced her myself. She is my friend, after all.” Matt pouted and you grinned, placing a hand on his arm.

“We all know you would have done a great job introducing me, Matty.” You snorted, rolling your eyes to Foggy.

“Um, are we not going to comment on the fact that I’m apparently not allowed to be friends with you?” Foggy asked, taking his seat beside Karen again.

“I didn’t say that!” Matt argued, sliding into the other side of the booth.

As Matt and Foggy bickered, you and Karen exchanged a knowing smile before you headed to the bar.

Waving as you spotted Josie’s stony face, you couldn’t help but smile when she rounded the bar to give you a one-armed hug. “Hey, kid. We’ve missed ya around here.”

“So I’ve heard,” You chuckled. “Can I get a couple of beers?”

“Your boyfriend letting you pay for the drinks?” Josie shook her head in distaste.

Almost dropping the two beers she’d passed you, your mouth dropped open in surprise. “Oh, uh…”

“C’mon, don’t tell me he hasn’t made a move yet. Poor kid acts like ya hung the moon.”

Chuckling awkwardly, you shrugged. “We’re just friends, Josie.”

“Yah, yah. Heard that one before.” Josie sighed, shooing you back to the table.

Trying to refocus after her comment, you plastered a smile back on your face and took your seat next to Matt, handing him his beer.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” He leaned against you and your skin burned. You could practically hear Josie raising her eyebrows from across the bar.

“You ok?” Matt asked, tilting his head towards you. “Did Josie snap at you or something?”

“You have to cut her some slack, she’s working hard to keep this place afloat.” Foggy frowned in sympathy.

“Oh no, nothing like that, she just caught me off guard is all.” You reassured, willing your body to relax into Matt’s hold.

“How so?” Karen asked with genuine curiosity.

“Oh, er, she asked me if…” Looking at Matt hesitantly, you let the words tumble out before you could fib. “She was wondering if Matt and I were dating.”

“What did you say?” Matt murmured.

“I told her the truth. Though, I wonder if I should’ve said we were, that was always easier.” You sighed, shifting in your seat uncomfortably.

“Always?” Karen asked, eyebrows shooting skyward.

“When we were kids, people always assumed we were dating. Eventually, it was easier to say yes than explain anything.” Matt explained with a shrug.

Foggy smiled, “Ah, so this has nothing to do with the fact that you both act like you’re dating for a weekend every year?”

You and Matt immediately grew defensive, spitting out two remarks at the same time.

“We do not—“

“Are you kidding me—“

But the realization of how close you were sitting to Matt made you pause. The man in question seemed to have the same epiphany because you both jumped apart with a huff.

Foggy and Karen exchanged a glance before nodding. Clapping his hands together, Foggy changed the subject.

“So…how’s California treating our favorite medical student?”

————————————-

Sitting on the worn leather couch in Matt’s living room, you blinked sleepily, the bright LED string lights coming back into focus as you reopened your eyes. You’d hoped that the beautifully decorated tree would draw you out of your thought spiral, but it was only fueling your rapid fire thoughts. Fidgeting with the fabric of the cushion you were sitting on, you couldn’t help but think of Foggy and Josie’s parallel accusations.

You and Matt were close, that was true, but you didn’t “act like you were dating”…did you? Sure, you were pretty much constantly touching each other, and you had nicknames for each other, but that was all platonic.

Or was that just what you’d told yourself? To let yourself sign off on the emotional turmoil you experienced every year when you had to leave the man that you loved.

Fuck. You loved Matt.

“What are you thinking about?” Matt’s voice startled you, your body jumping a few inches off the couch. Handing you the mug of hot chocolate he’d prepared for you, Matt took a seat next to you, his brow folding in concern.

“Oh, uh, nothing, Matty.” You lied unconvincingly.

With a snort, Matt shuffled closer, placing a hand on your knee. “You’re a terrible liar, sweetheart. What’s on your mind?”

“Did it…bother you? What Foggy said, about us?” You asked timidly, biting your lip when his hand stilled on your leg.

“Did it bother you?” He parrots, his voice uncharacteristically small.

Laughing despite the thick tension clouding around you, you shoved your shoulder against his. “I asked you first, Murdock.”

“Fair enough.” Matt chuckled nervously, exhaling quickly before answering, “No. It didn’t bother me.”

“Permission to ask you a follow up question?” It was risky to ask for further clarification before answering yourself, but you needed to know.

“That seems like cheating, but I’ll allow it.” Matt jested, his worry poorly concealed behind his teasing tone.

“Why didn’t it bother you?”

For an intense moment, your soft question was met with icy silence. Then, he responded with a warmth you’d never heard from him. “Because I’ve known exactly what I’ve wanted with you since we met all those years ago. And, consciously or not, I decided to enjoy my time with you in that way.”

Mouth falling agape, you pondered the answer for a moment. Had you been seeking that with him too? Is that why you were more than ok with the state of your relationship every year?

Interpreting your failure to speak as unease, Matt apologized. “I’m sorry. If I’d known that you were uncomfortable about it, I wouldn’t have–”

“I never said I wasn’t ok with it, Matty.” Your voice was deep with want, your eyes focused on every twitch of his facial muscles as he processed your response. “I’ve wanted more with you for years, I just thought I was better at hiding it than I apparently was.”

Matt chuckled, resting his forehead against yours. “We’re idiots, aren’t we?”

Matt’s breath heated your face, his lips felt too far away despite them hovering over your nose. Leaning into him, you crossed the invisible boundary you’d been dancing around for over a decade. “That depends on what we do next.”

Matt’s sharp inhale sparked a shiver down your spine. Settling one hand on your waist, the other cupped your chin gently. “Do I have permission to kiss you?”

“You fucking better, Murdock.” You murmured, hands wrapping around his nape as he closed the distance between your mouths.

As his plush lips met yours, the air was forced from your lungs. The evening ambiance of the city was drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. A jolt of adrenaline, that was heavily threaded with pure need shocked your system, drawing a soft loan from your vocal chords as his tongue prodded your bottom lip.

“Matty, please,” You whimpered as he withdrew his mouth from yours.

“What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words for me.” Matt’s smug tone prompted another moan from you.

“Want you. Please.”

“Anything for you, love.” Hiking you into his arms, Matt wove his lips between yours again as he carried you to the bedroom.

————————————

Scrunching your nose against the chill that overtook you as your foot slipped out from underneath the blankets, you retracted your leg, settling back into the cocoon of sheets and muscular arms with a sigh. Unfortunately, the abrupt temperature change had shocked your consciousness out of slumber, and now you had to face the consequences of whatever had happened last night.

Your bare back was pressed against Matt’s warm chest, each inhale of his lungs jostling you with a comforting rhythmic motion. His hands were joined atop your stomach, his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. Whining softly, you pressed backwards into his hold, his arms tightening instinctively as you did so.

“Morning.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.” The feeling of his lips dancing across the thin skin on your head was pleasant, until your brain reminded you just how fleeting this moment would be.

“Morning.” You responded, your tone revealing your nerves.

“Hey, I can hear you working yourself up. Talk to me. Are you ok?” Matt’s brow furrowed, his blank eyes darting around you as he sat up to study you closely.

“I’m ok, Matty. Just…thinking about us, is all.” You shrugged, eyes falling closed as he placed kisses down your neck.

Hesitating before planting a kiss on your collar bone, his voice quieted. “Do you regret it?”

“Absolutely not.” Using two fingers to turn his face to you, you drew him in for a deep kiss. “God, you make me so happy, Matt. But I still have a few months left in my residency.”

“I know, sweetheart.” The clear disappointment in Matt’s voice almost shattered your composure.

“I wish things were different.” You sighed, resting your foreheads together.

“Don’t say that. You are getting a fantastic education so you can become the best pediatrician the world has ever seen. We can enjoy our time together now, that’s enough for me.” Matt’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but his optimism was contagious.

“And in April?” Matt’s hand came to cup your cheek.

“I’ll be here, waiting for you, as long as you want me.”

“I’ll always want you, Matt Murdock.” You promised, threading your fingers into his hair as he kissed you with a smile.

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