#can't wait to see the chapter for june :))

[rainiiisspamming]

NOOO BRAM WHAT THE FUCK I LOVED HIM SO MUCH WHY

AT LEAST IT'S NOT CHUUYA BUT AGHHHWJKZJXLDLZLLX

[httpsserene]

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 '𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐰𝐨 | 𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐜𝐬. 𝟓𝟓 & 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒

summary: have you worked every shift possible for a chance of running into carlos and lando? yes. are you mad that you have a month of summer left and you still haven’t stumbled upon them? yes.

content warning: 18+. mdni. explicit sexual content. plot with porn. summer fling/vacation romance. fluff. light angst. light angst with a happy ending. banter. attempt at humor. explicit language. for extended tags, open in ao3.

pairing: poly! carlos sainz jr x lando norris x phd-student! fem!black!reader

word count: 18k words. (new record!)

from, serene: i am extremely proud of what i created. i hope it was worth waiting for, and i can't wait for the next episode !!! my next upload might be an alex albon smau series, for those that requested it. pls pls pls, send me asks and leave comments on this if you'd like! i'd love to hear your thoughts on sip of sunshine, and how it's building so far xxx thank you so much, my loves :) (50 more followers until 3k :o)

this has also been uploaded on my AO3 for anybody who finds it easier to read a fic of this length on there (looking out for those on mobile x)

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Studying for a doctorate does not directly correlate to a person’s brilliance. If you were smart, you wouldn’t have returned to the golf club for another summer with the sole hope of reuniting with the two stunningly fine men you shared a ten-minute conversation with. However, you chose to beat intelligence in a foot race, and here you are: driving the same beverage cart while sweating off your sunscreen for the fifth year in a row; furthermore, you have not crossed paths with Carlos and Lando once in the two months you’ve been working.

It’s difficult to believe that Lando had told the truth when he mentioned that they’ve been attending Club La Moraleja consistently for the past four years. You want to believe him, but the evidence against him is overwhelming. You’ve worked every possible shift this season, at every possible time, on every possible course, without a single spotting of the duo from the beginning of June. 

It’s August. If you allow yourself to think maniacally, you would infer that they’re avoiding you on purpose.

Previously, you were under the assumption that they were obviously flirting with you. The sexual innuendos, double-entendres, calling you a “sip of sunshine,” and the eighty euro tip Carlos left you (which had to be a mistake)—from which you deduced that they were making a move on you. You would even say that their instance in convincing you to return to the green was the smoking gun you needed to seal their fate in the case of you catching their interest. 

Nonetheless, they are nowhere to be found. 

You cope by entertaining the aspect of you suffering from heat stroke or heat exhaustion, and you created Carlos and Lando as a figment of your delusions during your compromised mental state. On the other hand, there’s also a chance that they took your joking threat—of never returning if you had to put up with their subpar pick-up lines—seriously. You didn’t consider that they would misunderstand your teasing banter but, you haven’t seen them a single time this summer.  

It’s unsettling. You’ve never been this disappointed about men not taking the clear hint. 

Obviously, you’d be relieved if any of the sleazy, rude, and archaic golfers stopped bothering you after their first attempt. But, Carlos and Lando? They’re the exact opposite of the men you described. They’re young, polite, funny, charming, and attractive. It’s not outlandish for you to say that there was some budding chemistry between you three.

It’s regrettably characteristic of you to develop crushes on men you haven’t shared more than one conversation with. Too bad you’re never going to see them again. And, screw them! Who do they think they are? It’s not like they’re anybody special—they probably delighted in filling your mind with false hope. 

The next time you see them, you’re running them over with the bev cart. All gas, no breaks.

The motor whirs loudly as you drive over a hill to the last hole of Course Four—and, you’ll be damned.

“Well, look at you! You stayed!”

You can’t tell if this is the universe blessing you or sending you a curse in disguise. 

Lando’s words ring in your ears as your brain fails to compute the sight of him and Carlos smiling at you from across the green, down in a bunker. 

Lando’s…matured beautifully, over the year you haven’t seen him. He was attractive before, but as you direct the cart closer, you can tell he’s grown into himself. There’s a broadness to his shoulders, a sharpness to his eyes, and a hollowness to his cheekbones that certainly makes it impossible for anybody to deny that he’s beautiful. 

Carlos is angeringly more handsome than he was before, somehow. You blame it on the backwards cap and his stupidly wide, warm, beautiful, brown eyes. You cut the engine off, scratching fiendishly at the back of your neck to dispel your thoughts about his nose and lips, how you would pay to see his brown eyes darkened between your thighs.

“Obviously,” you state dryly, roughly tucking the curls that slipped from your ponytail behind your ear, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Their grins falter at your biting tone and they glance at each other in surprise at your irritated response. They climb out of the bunker and walk to meet you at the side of the cart. You’ve turned your back to them, hearing their footsteps approach but you continue to mindlessly organize any cups that shifted out of place as you drove.

“It was just an observation,” the Brit continues, you can hear him still smiling around his words, “A conversation starter, I guess.”

You put on an impassive expression before turning around and staring at the two with your arms crossed, “Mm. Who’s the one who’s bad enough at golf to land in the bunker? Wait—don’t tell me! You’re both probably stuck in the sand trap.” 

Lando’s mouth audibly drops open with an insulted gasp and Carlos’s brow furrows in confusion.

You wave a dismissive hand through the air before they can reply, “What do you want to drink?”

“Uh…What?” Carlos fumbles, lost at your deviation.

“What, ‘what?’” You snap, annoyed at his feigned innocence, like he’s unaware that they lead you on for the entirety of a summer that they just appeared in, “What do you want to drink? As in a refreshment? ¿Una bebida? I know you’re familiar with ordering from the cart as I served you last year—and since you both have been coming here for five years!” [A drink?]

The two stare at you in blatant terror as your voice echoes in the air. Their stunned silence at your “unfounded” anger only serves to exasperate you further.

“Make it quick,” your voice trembles infuriatingly, “What would you like to drink?”

“Did we do something wrong? If we upset you, we have no idea what we did,” Carlos rambles pleadingly. You almost buy it.

“Yeah, what’s with the attitude?” Lando gracefully ruins their chances of being acquitted, “We haven’t seen you in nearly a year; What could we have done wrong?”

“Attitude—are you serious!?” You scoff, insulted at the very idea, before continuing mockingly “Whatever—it’s a beer and a lime mocktail, right? Or, would you prefer a sip of sunshine?”

The men don’t have a chance to edit their orders as you sharply throw open the beer cooler, all three of you flinching as the lid slams into the cart and the bottles and cans clamoring together worryingly. You don’t let the fear of damaged property interrupt your fury as you brandish the beer towards Carlos, snatching your hand away as soon as his closes around the neck of the bottle. 

He murmurs his thanks in his native tongue but the curl of his accent—no matter how alluring it sounds—incenses you further, and you huffily turn your back towards them as you craft Lando’s drink.

The thought of them being truthful about their confusion about your annoyance flares in your mind as you shovel ice into the plastic cup. It’s possible that there has been some miscommunication…but, that would be embarrassing for you to admit. You’ve already acted incredibly rude and like a total brat to them—to customers, at that! Ohmygod, you’ve let your personal emotions affect your work; they could report you to your manager and have you fired. 

Your breath stutters as your overcome with a chill that feels like you’ve dumped ice down your own shirt. The drink is quickly assembled, and you find yourself wishing for a painless death as you fasten an orange slice as garnish on the rim of the cup instead of a lime. A slice of sunshine, if you will.

Meekly, this time around, you offer the cup to Lando. He looks increasingly disturbed at the sudden switch of your demeanor. You watch the Brit glance at his companion, his look clearly communicating that he’s checking if Carlos agrees that you’ve lost your mind, most likely.

The Spaniard must have agreed because Lando giggles nervously, the sound glaringly revealing his discomfort, “You didn’t poison my drink, did you?”

Your brain starts to self-destruct in embarrassment. Carlos hides his face in his free hand, but the sound of pain that escapes him at the ill-timed joke is clear. To be fair, Lando looked like he regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth, but the damage was done. 

Your cheeks burn furiously, you’re simultaneously angry and disappointed in yourself. How could you allow yourself to become overrun by your emotions on the clock? It’s unprofessional and uncharacteristic of you. 

You excuse yourself shakily, “I-I am so sorry. Perdóname. I was rude to you both for no reason. I apologize sincerely for my behavior. Do not worry about paying, your drinks are on me. I hope you both enjoy yourself on the green—Buenas tardes.” [Forgive me; Good afternoon.]

Carlos and Lando are silent as you scamper into the driver’s seat, tail figuratively tucked between your legs. The ride back to the clubhouse is silent as you berate yourself for your stupidity. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to forget the way you ruined your chances with them. You already know your subconscious will play this on repeat every time you try to sleep. The cart beeps as you reverse into its assigned spot. Isabel, one of the fellow cart girls—and your best friend—waves at you with a smile as she walks over towards you. She must be the next on shift.

“You look like you’ve just been fired,” Isa’s smile has transformed into a look of concern, “¿Estás bien?” [Are you okay?]

Grabbing your belongings, you slide out of the driver's seat with a haunted look in your eyes. “You remember the two guys I told you about? From last summer? I think I just scared them away.”

“No,” Isa exhales in denial, pulling you into a hug, “There’s no way. What happened?”

“I yelled at them and insulted them for being bad at golf,” you mumble, yelping sharply as she  communicates her displeasure by slapping at your arm, “I was mad at them, okay! They were pretending to be innocent, like they had no clue they avoided me for the entire summer! They’re going to complain to the Club and get me fired because I was unprofessional and rude!”

“Ay! You don’t know that! You still served them, and apologized right?” Isa brightens further when you mention you served them for free, she ignores your pout as you rub your hand against the stinging skin of your bicep, “Then, it’s probably nothing. If they do complain, this is your first complaint ever. You won’t get fired—you will just have to wash the carts for the rest of the summer.”

You fall to your knees on the hot concrete in despair and Isa snorts at your dramatics, bending to pluck the cart keys from your pocket. 

“I’m just going to quit, inmediamente!” [Immediately!]

“If you quit, I quit,” Isa reminds you, “And, out of the two of us, I need this job. I’m broke. So, you can’t quit, unless you want me to suffer.”

“I would take care of you,” you beg, “I have my office job back in the States. You could marry me and get a green card! Let me quit!”

Isa cackles at the concept, “You hate your office job. Anyway, quitting won’t save you from your colleagues here. Don’t forget we’re all going out tomorrow night! You can’t escape this time, you promised me.”

You groan in indignation, “Is it a crime to not like clubbing every night?”

“¡Sí, lo es!,” She frowns, “It’s clubbing every night in Madrid! And, I need moral support if I have to watch Lucas flirt with Sofia. I don’t know what he sees in her.” [Yes, it is!]

Grumbling fitfully, you wish her a good shift before dragging yourself into the Clubhouse. You’re still quitting. There’s not a chance in hell that you’re coming back next summer—there is nothing worth staying for anymore. Sorry, Isa.

Out of all the shifts you’ve worked, the 8 A.M. to 3 P.M. is your least favorite. You blink blearily as you hang up your belongings in the same locker you chose four years ago, fighting the urge to rub at your eyes, with the thought of not smearing your mascara. Pinning your nametag on your pressed shirt is muscle memory, and you slide on a club-branded visor to protect your face because the UV index is concerningly high today. 

You pause to stare at the photos pinned to the inside of your locker door—they date from your very first summer till now, with familiar faces and some you haven’t seen in a while. It’s heartwarming. You haven’t posted a single one of these photos in here; your friends do it on their own (the password to your locker is apparently community knowledge—you could change it, but then you’d stop collecting them), taping Polaroids from moments on the course to shenanigans off the course to nights out in the city, with captions and notes written on the back. 

The sense of belonging and community you found here is why it was so difficult to come to a decision about leaving this place and its people behind. Your lips tilt up at a photo of you and the cart team covering your boss’s car in sticky notes two summers ago—he made you all collect the stray golf balls from the putting green that night in retaliation. And, he laughed deeply as the sprinklers drenched all of you, which is another few snapshots commemorated in your locker. 

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to leave.

“Mami,” Lilia, the receptionist on duty this morning, calls you from the locker room door, “The two really hot Formula One drivers are asking for you?”

You shoot a look of confusion her way, “huh—why me? I don’t know them?”

“Umm, yes you do?” Lilia mirrors your bafflement, “They say you’ve served them before. And that they want to apologize for something?”

“¿Qué?”

“I don’t know! I’m just repeating what they told me—” The brunette woman cuts herself short, and her eyes narrow after a moment, “Hey, if they’re bothering you, I’ll get them banned. I didn’t tell them that you were here, I just said I’d check to see if you had come in. Did they bother you? Don’t lie to me! I’ll call security and get them gone!”

“What, no! I don’t know them, or even know what Formula One is! I haven’t had a bad interaction or served any drivers—oh.” Your stomach sinks as your eyes shut woefully, “I fucked up.”

Lilia threatens to get them banned again when she sees the bronze skin of your face lose its luster. You tell her to let them know you’ll be out in a moment and to not threaten them. You step to the full-length mirror to check your appearance and adjust your uniform. Centering yourself with a few deep breaths, you turn the door handle and make your way out to the reception desk.

The squeaking of your sneakers on the tile floor only adds to your anticipation. A small part of you hopes that Carlos and Lando aren’t the Formula One drivers asking for you, and that this is all some misunderstanding. You feel your soul die inside of you as your eyes meet theirs. Their expressions look determined and apologetic, and your palms feel sweaty as you come to terms with them preparing to file a formal complaint. 

Lilia clears her throat abruptly from where she’s pretending to organize membership files. You see a blush bloom on Carlos and Lando’s cheeks as they realize that they’ve been staring at you without saying anything for longer than what’s politely appropriate, but you beat them to the chase.

“Buenos días. U-umm,” you anxiously scratch at the nape of your neck, “…Is this about yesterday? Or the tip you left last summer? It was too generous to not be an accident. It’s past our refund period, but I can reach out to the manager on duty to see if we can work something out.” [Good morning.]

“I gave you eighty euros on purpose,” Carlos states without doubt, and you feel Lilia’s stare piercing your side profile.

“Oh.”

“I wanted to speak to you about yesterday—”

You cut in, “Yesterday was my fault! I think I misunderstood you both and I overreacted. It was nothing personal—”

Lando clasps his hands together, interrupting you with an imploring tone, “It was personal, though. Which is fine, I think we deserved it. Especially if there was a misunderstanding on our part. We would’ve communicated with you clearer if we were sure that you were on the same page as us. We would appreciate it if you would allow us to make it up to you.”

Lilia kicks your ankle underneath the desk, doing enough freaking out for the both of you as you struggle to keep your face calm.

“I feel like I’m still the one at fault for the miscommunication. But—how were you planning to…smooth things over, I guess?” You ask.

“Allow us to take you to dinner tonight, and explain,” Carlos finishes, weaponizing those eyes of his, helped by Lando softening his own at you desperately for a chance.

“Oh—um, I would love to, really, but I already have plans tonight—,” You’re getting tired of being interrupted, but Lilia is quick to clear your schedule.

“No!” The raven-haired woman jumps up from her seat, slapping her hand on the counter forcefully, causing the three of you to jump. “She’s free tonight!” She smiles scaringly wide at Carlos and Lando.

Lilia turns to you and her smile and voice quiets to something genuine, “I will explain to the others about why you could not make it. Isa will understand as long as you remember to keep us both updated, yes?”

You roll your eyes, resigned , “Yes.”

You’re surprised at the tentative happiness growing in the boys’ appearances, “I guess I can do dinner tonight. What’s the plan?”

Phone numbers are exchanged and they agree to pick you up from your house at seven. They linger through their goodbyes, clearly not wanting to end the conversation. It’s flattering that they're willingly exposing their obsession with you so soon. You shoo them away with the reminder of seeing each other tonight and the fact that you are, in fact, on the clock. Lilia slaps you on the arm repeatedly as you watch them exit through the front doors with a dreamy sigh.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Lilia lets out a scream of excitement and pulls you into a hug, the two of you jumping up and down overwhelmed with joy. You’re caught by your boss Marco, who takes one glance before he turns around to head back into his office, forcing the two of you into hysterical giggles. 

You pull back from her, and you can’t quiet the large grin dancing on your lips, “I have no idea what to wear!”

Carlos texted you twenty minutes ago alerting you that they’re on the way to pick you up. Lando added that they can’t wait to see you a minute later. You were ready thirty minutes before they started heading your way. Ten minutes ago you decided to change your entire outfit. You settled on a linen cropped tank and matching maxi skirt with a pair of sandals. You fiddle with your accessories endlessly, and you do the same with a few stray curls that refuse to sit where you want them.

Grabbing your purse and phone, you rush out of your room and down the stairs to find your parents in the kitchen adding the finishing touches to their own dinner.

“¡Mija—qué bonita!” your mom gasps, wiping her hands on a towel before she pulls you closer to look at you, “Where have you been hiding this outfit?” [My daughter, how beautiful she is!]

“Má, I’ve had it for a while,” you subject yourself to her cooing and prodding as she spins you around, looking at your dad for help, who only offers you a shrug, “—I just have not had anywhere to wear it.”

“Hm? Then, what’s so special about tonight? I thought you were clubbing with your friends, no?” You avoid meeting her prying eyes, pretending to find interest in what’s simmering on the stove.

“Eh, why is there a Ferrari outside of my house?” your dad asks, drawing your attention to the front window. The sleek black convertible is parked by the curb, and your phone buzzes in your hands. Lando has informed you of their arrival, and you quickly tell them you’ll be right out to avoid them coming to the door. You don’t know if they’re “meet the parents” caliber yet, Ferrari or not.

“Don’t worry about it, Papà. I’ll text you when I’m on my way back tonight,” you press kisses to both of your parents’ cheeks, “Save some food for me to take to work tomorrow, please?”

Your mom pinches your ear, “Ay! You are going on a date? Finally! Is he handsome on top of being rich? A Ferrari is okay as long as he is as beautiful as the car, you know?”

Your dad makes a noise of complaint as he follows you both towards the door, “A Ferrari is more than okay as long as he respects you and treats you well. And, if he buys me a Ferrari too—ask him for me.” 

You fuss at them, flustered but smug as you ignore your dad’s request, and you turn to smirk at your mom, “Papà, I plan to find outfit they treat me well tonight. Mamá. They’re both gorgeous.”

Your dad blinks in confusion as your mom crows in delight, “¡Mija! I knew I raised you properly! ¡Vas, vas! Have fun and you have to tell me everything when you get back, yes?” [My girl!; Go, go!]

“Sí, Mamá. ¡Muchos besos, te quiero!” You slip out of the door, the sound of your mother explaining that you’ve garnered the interest of two men to your father fading behind you as you walk to the car. [Yes, mom. Kisses, I love you!]

Carlos and Lando are waiting for you on the curb, the engine purring lowly behind them. Your gait slows as you near, and the Spaniard reaches out to press his lips to the back of your hand fleetingly. 

They’ve dressed well; Lando in a light gray, short-sleeved, collared, v-neck that rests untucked over white chinos and a pair of gray sneakers to match. He’s sprinkled with bracelets, a few of them decorate his toned forearms on both wrists, and there’s a singular silver chain peeking from the cut of his shirt. Carlos is dressed similarly with the white chinos, yet he’s chosen a light blue button-up with the first few buttons undone, and a pair of dress shoes. His outfit is complimented by a dazzling watch. 

You murmur a greeting to both men, unable to hold eye contact with either of them for long. It’s one thing to fantasize that you have a chance with men clearly out of your league, and it’s another thing to have to muster up the confidence to speak to them outside of your uniform. 

Lando impatiently shifts on his feet as the older man keeps hold of your hand for longer than necessary. When you’re released, Lando takes it a step further and pulls you into a hug, his body heated and solid against yours. A shiver runs down your spine when his hand rests on the exposed skin of the small of your back. You hum, pleased as you inhale the velvety scent of his cologne, missing the closeness as he pulls away from you a beat later.

You step back, your heart thudding as you quip, “I didn’t know we were on hugging terms already.”

“I’m sorry,” Lando flushes easily, and Carlos chuckles, “I should’ve asked if it was okay.”

“I liked it,” you smile at him, pretending as if your heart isn’t pounding forcefully from the brief embrace, “I-I mean, it was fine, don’t worry.”

The Brit hums at your response, his eyes drifting along your form before meeting yours again with a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. His blush recedes as yours strengthens, now apparent on your darker skin. 

“Lovely house,” he withdraws, and you’re thankful he avoided commenting on the evident flush he invoked with nothing more than a hug and a pass of his eyes.

“Thank you, my parents bought it and moved here after I started university,” you explain needlessly, “They’re pretty great. They were the ones who made me apply for the position at La Moraleja. So, really, it’s them you have to credit with us meeting, I suppose.”

“We also have to thank them for having a beautiful daughter,” Carlos alleges smoothly.

You fluster, “I-I’ll pass the message along. Both of you are very handsome, but I think you guys hear that often.”.

“Don’t worry. It sounds sweeter coming from you,” Lando edits his point with an impish grin, “—and from Carlos too, sometimes.”

“Don’t be a brat, Lando,” the Spaniard’s voice is light as he entertains the younger, “Unfortunately, I think we will be late if we continue to stand here and flirt in the street,” Carlos says, and his eyes shift to look past you and at your house, “—And, I think your dad might come outside and kill us. Which would not be very pleasant, in my opinion.”

You spin around, chagrined at the sight of your dad watching the three of you with a harsh stare. 

“Yes! Let’s get going, I would hate to be late. Ignore him, please.” Lando waves at your dad anyways, endearing himself to you further, “And, you won’t have to worry about being murdered as long as you get him a Ferrari.”

The two men startle into laughter at that, and you hold your hands up candidly, “What? His words, not mine!”

You didn’t account for the oddness of one of you sitting in the backseat, but Lando assigns himself to the back, claiming that you have “passenger princess” rights. 

The wind ruffles through your curls aimlessly as Carlos drives towards your destination. The ride is filled with endless chatter and flirting. A smile is constantly on your face as the three of you speak through topics easily. There’s not a single time you feel like an outsider, even though it’s clear how familiar they are with each other. 

The restaurant you find yourself in isn’t screaming its extravagance at you, which is surprising. While it’s dimly lit, and you can hear live music thrumming through the air from somewhere deeper inside over the lively chatter—it feels like a classic restaurant, intimate and comfortable. Like somewhere you could go for a nice dinner often.

The hostess straightens upwards with recognition when she spots Carlos and she greets the three of you good naturedly before disappearing to check if your table is ready. 

The Spaniard notices the surprise on your face, “My family and I have dined here since I was young. You have never come here before? ”

You shake your head, “I’m a little jealous, if I’m being honest,” Carlos tilts his head, listening, “I’m mad I didn’t discover this place sooner. The atmosphere is amazing!”

The hostess returns, gesturing for you all to follow after her and Lando grasps your hand to catch your attention as you walk, “If you think the vibe is amazing, just wait until you try the food.”

The table is not in direct sight of anyone besides the kitchen, clearly a spot meant for privacy. Your hidden behind a half wall and a screen overgrown with plants, and the volume of the restaurant seems quieter through the barrier. You lean back in your chair as the three of you wrap up the discussion about yesterday’s conflict.

“I feel incredibly stupid now,” you chuckle, embarrassed. The brown skin of your face burns hot. You focus on the empty wine glass in front of you, avoiding their eyes plainly.

“No,” Carlos’s voice is stern, the serious tone shocking you into looking at him, “Do not be rude to yourself—you are not stupid.”

You stare, dumbfounded, reeling as you process the manner in which he shut down your negative self-talk. If his words totally dissolved your mortification over your immature reaction to seeing them again, you might have thought harder about how that was kind of hot of him to do.

“Aren’t you studying for a PhD?” Lando asks rhetorically, “I think that literally means you’re not stupid.”

You scoff lightly—feeling humored instead of humiliated—at how easily he swept away the tension with a light-hearted comment. The Brit doesn’t know how many people have enlightened you with the knowledge that common sense is, unfortunately, uncommon in post-grad. But, you’ll let his words wash away your self-deprecation lest this turns into an unsolicited therapy session instead of a date an apology dinner.

“Fine. I’m not stupid—but, you can’t deny that it wasn’t a little dumb of me to assume that you guys had lied to me about visiting the golf club every year. And, it was a little more dumb of me to make my decision about working here for another season just because there was a chance that I could see you guys—never mind.” Your teeth clack together forcefully as you slam your mouth shut.

The duo straighten up at the sudden end to your sentence, brains quickly filling in the blanks for them. Lando’s poorly attempting to hide his satisfied smile behind his hand and Carlos’s eyes are bright with understanding. You’ve learned your lesson about making hasty assumptions but you don’t think it’s foolish to deduce this means that they’re actually interested in you too, this time around.

“Ah. Well, we should not have assumed that you knew we were Formula One drivers, which maybe was obvious from how you spoke to us,” Carlos shrugs his shoulders, leveling the blame, “And, I think it’s sweet that you were hoping to run into us again.”

“Mmm,” you hum nervously, “I think it’s delusional.”

One of their shoes knocks against yours underneath the table and you jump in surprise. Carlos’s chest shakes with a silent laugh and his eyebrow raises at you pressingly.

“We should’ve asked for your number last summer,” Lando adds nonchalantly. 

You rattle at his boldness, and you’re given a moment to ponder that as the waiter stops to pour you and Carlos a glass of white wine (Lando refused). You take a brief sip, humming pleasantly at the light and easy flavor, the live music and easy conversation floating through the air providing you a reprieve from your immersion in the two men. 

Your attention is recaptured as you watch Carlos offer Lando a chance to taste from his glass. 

Earlier, the Brit had told you he dislikes the taste of most alcohols when the waiter stepped away to grab the bottle Carlos requested. Yet, Lando accepts, not without making his distaste apparent with an adorable frown. He takes the tiniest sip possible with a look of apprehension and recoils from the glass as he swallows, his nose scrunching in disgust as he shakes his head to further sell his distate. 

Carlos rolls his eyes and laughs, revealing to you how used he is to Lando’s dramatics. He raises a hand to rub at the short hair on the nape of the younger’s neck in comfort.

The look on your face must be cloyingly sweet if the light dust of pink that rises to the Brit’s cheeks when he realizes you’ve watched the entire interaction, is meaningful. Carlos’s eyes become intense when he spots how Lando curls into himself shyly under your eyes. The Spaniard whispers, his volume low enough for only Lando to hear and you wish you knew exactly what was said, because it deepens the tint of his cheeks to a furious red. 

You figure you’ll save him from his torment by bringing up the important stuff.

“So, you only have a month of summer vacation,” you start, fingers fiddling with the edge of a fan-folded napkin, “Which is in August. That’s…so short. My fall semester starts the first week of September.”

Silence falls as they digest the underlying meaning of your sentence. Is it in everyone’s best interest to start something that has to end so soon? Is it in your best interest to risk catching feelings for two athletes (celebrity-athletes, at that) during the last month of your break? 

“A month is a long time,” the younger man starts, his blue-green eyes intent, “We’ll just have to make the most out of it, right? I want to get to know you more, and I have a feeling that the three of us will have a fun time together—If you want to give it a try.”

“A ‘fun time’? Like—like a fling?” Your expression remains indifferent as you ask. You need them to clarify what they want out of this without revealing your emotions. It’s only proper for you to prevent any future miscommunication or misunderstanding about this; you learned from your earlier mistake.

Lando’s earnest gaze has lost some of its shine, and Carlos’s eyes now seem guarded.

“Calling it a fling is harsh,” the Spaniard responds, “It’s more of a summer romance, no?”

Your laugh isn’t genuine, but they don’t know you well enough to discern that, “Alright, I’ll give our ‘summer romance’ a chance. Using a synonym doesn’t change the definition, you know?” 

Lando cocks his head at you, staring deeply. It feels like he’s trying to puzzle you out, and you stare back in feigned confusion.

“It’s nothing,” He relaxes, leaning back in his chair and moving Carlos’s glass out of the way as he sees the waiter nearing the table with your appetizers, “I just find it odd that you called yourself stupid earlier.” You don’t know what to make of that, but it’s forgotten as the starters are devoured and the conversation shifts into them getting to know you and vice versa.

The older man with them at the golf course last year was Carlos’s father, who is a two-time Rally World Champion. You’re surprised to learn that they’ve only been dating for around a year. Lando says he developed a crush on Carlos when they were teammates at Mclaren, but he was afraid of ruining their relationship and potentially, his career, if he confessed–so he kept quiet. Carlos didn’t realize he was romantically interested in Lando until he signed his contract with Ferrari. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you interrupt, “If you guys have only been together for a year, did you get together before or after you saw me at the golf course for the first time?”

“A year and three months,” the Spaniard corrects with a serene smile, “Our anniversary was in May.”

The Brit continues for him, “—Which means we started dating about three months before we saw you. Give or take a few weeks.”

You gave a low whistle of surprise—three months into their relationship and they were on the same page about chasing after you. Since then, they had several serious conversations about adding a third to their relationship but hadn’t found or looked for anybody they’d consider to try with. Besides you.

Obviously, they like playing golf; Lando is abysmal, and Carlos is not bad at it. Carlos has two sisters, Lando has a brother and two sisters. Both of them are middle children. Lando is a picky eater, and hates fish and seafood. Carlos will eat anything Lando doesn’t. Lando founded a company with his best friend. Carlos is a Real Madrid fanatic. Lando occasionally streams on Twitch. Carlos enjoys surfing and cycling.

“I’m sorry for saying that you guys sucked at golf yesterday,” you apologize sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” the Brit says, unperturbed, “I do suck at golf. I just wasn’t expecting to hear it come from you.”

“I suck less at golf,” the older man states, “But, if I was good, I would not have been in the sand pit in the first place, no?”

They visit Spain often because family is important to Carlos. Lando’s loved like another son by Carlos’s family and Carlos is loved the same by Lando’s family. Lando is needy. Carlos likes being needed. Carlos is mildly possessive. Lando is too self-critical. Carlos makes the best pancakes. Lando wants to build a beautiful vintage car collection.

They want to see you again. You enjoyed dinner more than you thought was possible. 

They defrosted your nerves and allowed your personality to shine through. It helps that they were actively listening as you complained and gushed over your studies, told anecdotes of the shenanigans you and the others got up to on the golf course, and spoke about your future outlooks. They didn’t mind your lack of knowledge about Formula One and explained the sport in detail to you. They were determined to figure out what made you mad, what made you happy, what made you laugh, what made you shy—and, what made you go pink.

It didn’t take them long to discern that staring at your lips is the trick. When they made that discovery, they weaponized it the entire night. While one of them played with the rings on your fingers or tucked a curl behind your ear, the other managed to fluster you by letting their eyes wander for a few seconds before meeting yours again with increasing intensity. You experienced heart failure several times, and had to ask them to repeat themselves more frequently thanks to their psychological warfare.

Your heart feels like it may cease to function again as they walk you to your doorstep. The lights inside the house are off, you returned later than you thought you would. Your parents left the porch light on for you and it casts an amber warmth. Carlos and Lando don’t invite themselves into your space as you dig your house keys out of your purse, ever the polite men. The sound of your keys jingling harmonizes with your triumphant hum as you pull them out. 

You face the boys, placing your hand on the doorknob behind you, waiting for them to speak. 

“Are we forgiven for unintentionally leading you to believe that we led you on and wasted your time?” Lando blurts out.

You knock your head back against the doorframe, abashed, shutting your eyes to dispel the HD playback your brain gifts you with. “If you both agree to never bring it up again, I’ll forgive you.”

“I suddenly do not know what we’re talking about,” Carlos nods seriously, and Lando echoes the sentiment.

You release the doorknob and take the few steps towards them. As you expected, their eyes simultaneously drift to stare at your mouth. You lightly place a hand on Carlos’s shoulder before leaning up and brushing your lips across his cheek in the lightest ghost of a kiss, before moving to Lando and doing the same.

You carefully backpedal to the door turning to insert your key into the lock, before you look back at them. Your heart flutters at the sight of Carlos, who’s frozen, standing all wide-eyed and pressing his fingers to his cheek like he’s unsure if he imagined the kiss. Lando however, looks hungry. His eyes are the darkest you’ve seen tonight, and they’re locked on how you teasingly flick your tongue across your bottom lip.

“While we may only have a month to spend together—it doesn’t mean I’m easy. I, at least!—need a second date before I let you do anything more than stare at my lips and hold my hand. It might take three dates before I even let you kiss my cheek,” you tease with a joking shrug of your shoulders.

“It’s a good thing that you have my phone number,” the lock clicks open, and you push the door open, “If you don’t use it to set up another date, I think I’ll have no choice but to never forgive you guys.”

“We’ll be using it,” Carlos asserts, recovered from the daze you left him in.

“Hm, good. Text me when you get home.” You step in your entryway, waving your fingers at the two of them leisurely, “Buenas noches.” [Goodnight.]

They mimic your goodbye and you shut the door, clicking the lock. You nosily peek through the peephole to spy on their reactions. Carlos tugs Lando into a bear hug, their wide smiles hidden as they press into each other and the sharpest pitch squeal you’ve heard from Lando travels through the front door. You cover your own giggle with a hand as you watch the two of them kiss and almost skip down your driveway back to the car. You press your back to the door with a deep sigh, a lovestruck smile painting your face while you lay limp to let your heartbeat slow to a normal speed.

The hallway light flicks on and you shriek as your mom stares at you with a deranged smile on her lips, “Tell me everything!”

“Mamá! What are you doing up? It’s late!” You exclaim, straightening upwards with your hands on your hips, failing at distracting her from how you were weak in the knees a couple of seconds ago. “It’s okay, mija! I’ll start a fresh pot of coffee for us and you can tell me all about your date!” She rushes forward, grabbing your hand to pull you into the kitchen.

Ironically, the second date ends up being late night mini golf. Even better, you destroy them at it. It wasn’t an easy feat, they made plenty of attempts to sabotage and distract you; whether it was yelling, spooking, poking, or prodding at you as you readied your putt, but it wasn’t enough to give them a chance of catching up. 

You figure more of your mistakes were from being unable to stop laughing as the two performed atrociously. Carlos ended up polluting every water feature with golf balls and Lando couldn’t manage to finish a single hole in under 8 strokes—the highest par was 6. You patted Lando on the back consolingly, telling him to find comfort in the fact that they’re equally terrible at putt-putt golf.

The two seemed surprised at your finesse with a club, almost like they’d forgotten you work on a golf course. You may not be a caddy, but you’ve had plenty of time to work on perfecting your technique. You did well enough to place sixth on the leaderboard, the employees said that Carlos’ score might be the worst they’ve ever seen.

With their egos severely bruised, you convinced them to soothe the loss over with ice cream at a neighboring parlor. Lando was satisfied with plain vanilla and Carlos with a scoop of dulce de leche. You elected for cookies and cream, but found yourself being fed their flavors as well. 

The sugary treats were delicious. Watching them stare at your lips pursed around a spoonful of ice cream was far more delectable. Lando broke the fourth time you managed to dot a bit of vanilla above your upper lip. He choked on a whine before leaning into your space. He hesitated a hair’s width away from your lips, his shuddering exhales mixing with yours, his eyes searching for approval. Your eyes fluttered shut and Lando closed the gap. 

His lips were soft and chilled, a result of the ice cream. Warmth blossomed in your chest as you leaned into the kiss, the taste of vanilla lingering in the embrace. His hand raised to cradle your cheek as your lips brushed together languidly, the sound of your heart racing within your chest fading out as you become absorbed by the kiss. 

Lando pulls away, falling back into his seat with his chest heaving. You stare after him with wide eyes, jolting out of it when you notice you’ve dropped your spoon into your lap, Carlos’s dulce de leche ice cream spilling onto your thigh. 

“Do I get to lick this off your thigh since Lando got to kiss it off your lips?” Carlos asks, his tone half genuine, half facetious.

You kick at his ankle underneath the booth and he throws his hands up placatingly. 

“Wait–,” you anxiously flit your eyes around the parlor, “—you shouldn’t have kissed me here Lando. Out in public? Aren’t people going to recognize—”

“We’ve been the only people in here for the past thirty minutes or so,” Lando interrupts, gathering the near-empty dishes and balled-up napkins, “They’ve also been closed for twenty minutes. When you went to the bathroom when we came in, Carlos and I signed something for the owner who was more than happy to keep things quiet for his second favorite Spanish Formula One driver.”

“Second favorite?” Carlos furrows his eyebrows at his boyfriend, his umber eyes adorably confused.

“Mate,” the Brit scoffs, “I might be in love with you ‘n all but we're not going to act like Fernando isn’t the best thing that came out of Spain, besides churros.”

The unfavored Spaniard holds his hand to his chest in betrayal before his eyes narrow and he moves to assault Lando with a pinch to his chest. While you’d love to continue watching this disguised act of foreplay, you would rather be a participant than a voyeur.

“¡Cabrónes!” The two freeze, heads snapping to look at you as your voice cuts through the catfight.

“I think the owner would be even happier if you licked the ice cream off my thigh outside of his parlor so he could finally lock up, sí?”

How Lando kisses with a desperate hunger, Carlos kisses with a ravaging heat. Like he wants to roast your nerve endings with every brush of his lips against yours.

The fiery press of his mouth stokes the arousal building in your navel. His hand tangles in your hair as he directs the tilt of your head. A stuttered whimper slips from your mouth into his as your tongues glide together, a buzzing sensation tingling down your spine as his other hand squeezes your waist tightly.

He walks you backward towards the bed, his lips devouring yours as you wrap your arms around his neck, attempting to pull your bodies even closer than they are. You stumble, gasping when his hand palms your ass and it’s the first time your lips have separated since Carlos claimed them in the hallway.  He tumbles into you as his feet stumble around yours, the darkness of the bedroom not bettering the situation. He nearly sends you both to the floor instead of the plush mattress if not for Lando catching your body and a hand firmly pressed to Carlos’s chest to hold him upright, expletives falling from your mouths until balance is restored.

You rest your forehead on the older man’s collarbone as you abruptly giggle at being so kiss drunk you forgot how to backpedal. The two drivers have no choice but to laugh at the sound of your amusement, Lando cackling and Carlos’s chest shaking with his laughter. 

“I’m not against fucking on the floor,” Lando voices, the sound of his grin loud enough for you to visualize, “But—can we at least have our first time with you on this extremely comfortable bed?”

“First time?” You raise a brow jokingly, nonchalantly pulling your shirt over your head and letting it fall to the floor, “That implies you’re thinking there’s gonna be a second.”

The Spaniard steps away to click the nightstand lamp on, the room partially bathed in warm yellow light. Your eyes adjust seamlessly to the low lighting, allowing you to revel in the sight of him appreciating your exposed skin, even when covered with a plain black bra—you’ve never been more thankful to be wearing a matching pair of panties.

The younger man unclasps the latch of the garment, dragging the straps down your arms, goosebumps rising in the wake of his fingertips, and the bra lands atop your shirt. You feel his breath cascade heatedly along your left shoulder before his lips purse delicately against the brown skin. 

He nips closer to the crook of your neck, lowly murmuring, “I know we’ll be having you for more than a third time.”

Surely feeling left out, Carlos unzips your skirt, tugging it down your hips and offering a hand for you to hold as you step free of it, “Many more times. But for tonight,” the older man pauses, toying with the band of your panties, looking at you with a smirk, “We must settle on saving the floor for round two. After we have caused you to ruin the sheets.”

Internally, you scream in elation. Two men eager to fuck you stupid, for the rest of your summer—you pray they’re not bluffing. You can’t remember the last time you’ve had sex good enough for a repeat performance. Externally, you shimmy out of your panties and tug at the hem of Carlos’ button-up once you’re bare. 

“If you want me to ruin your sheets, I’m pretty sure that requires you both to be less clothed.”

Lando’s free of everything but his briefs in a handful of seconds while Carlos struggles to unbutton his shirt. The younger pulls you into bed, guiding you to lay on your back as he holds himself over you, dipping to kiss you messily, unafraid to let his moans knit with yours. By the time the older man has lost his clothes and joined the two of you on the bed, the Brit’s focus has traveled down the length of your neck to your chest. Reddened marks bloom on your bronzed skin, mottled across your decolletage in a pattern only known as desire. 

He laves his tongue against a pebbled nipple, his teeth scraping the sensitive bud, delighting in the way your body arches upwards into his mouth. Your hand pulls tightly at brunette curls, his resulting whimper at the burn of his scalp muffled around your breast, his eyes screwing shut. You loosen your grasp, unable to determine if that was a positive reaction and you’re pleased to see his eyes fly open, his gaze demanding more. His large hand envelopes your wrist, attempting to have you further mess up his hair, but the motion is halted when Carlos cocks Lando’s head backward with an unrelenting fist. 

The younger man shudders, his eyes rolling at the rough treatment. He rises to lessen the pressure of his boyfriend’s grasp, settling into a kneel between your legs with Carlos pressed to his back. The burn of his scalp subsides when the hold weakens, the tension leaving the younger man in a breath and his head droops back on a broad shoulder.

The Spaniard captivates your attention as he presses a kiss to Lando’s jaw, moving the same hand that was in his boyfriend’s hair to splay against his abdomen, a finger dipping to poke at his bellybutton, causing Lando to jolt with a whine. Carlos coos, calming the man with a rub of hand along his torso.  

“Don’t let him fool you. He likes a bit of pain,” Carlos tweaks Lando’s nipple demonstratively, letting the sight of the younger man’s arousal jumping underneath his briefs accompanied by a strangled moan speak for itself. “He’s a brat, even if he likes to pretend otherwise. A little sting is enough to remind him how to act…most times. Right, Landito?”

The man moves to hide his face in Carlos’s neck as if it’ll hide the sight of him nodding in confirmation. It doesn’t help that the meek “yes” he breathes into the muscle isn’t muffled at all.

“And because he wants to be good,” Carlos continues, pulling at Lando’s waistband and releasing it to snap against flushed, pink skin, “He’s going to keep himself busy with you while I see if I can still taste the dulce on your thigh. Is that okay with you?”

You gulp, anticipatory. “M-more than okay.”

The younger man's eyes are all pupil, ringed with stormy-colored irises as he’s lowered by your side. You were contemplating teasing him about his brat complex—but the haze of his eyes causes you to reconsider.

The gap of his teeth remains adorable even as he bites his lips, the plush skin reddened and raw from where he’s already scraped the skin off. Prolonged eye contact from him seems impossible—his gaze flits away from yours after a handful of seconds. He struggles to decide where to look, happening upon your lips, zoning out with a yearning pout. Lando is clueless to the effect of his fixation; he reignites the redness on your cheeks and the skipping of your heartbeat.

Frightened by Carlos’s spit-slicked lips brushing along the bone of your ankle, you twitch, breaking Lando’s trance. 

The Brit’s blush deepens when he notices you’ve been watching him stare without saying a word. He muffles a mortified whimper into a pillow, smushing his face so deeply into the fabric you worry he may strangle himself. You glance at Carlos for assistance and the man only nods in the younger’s direction, continuing to drag his mouth up your legs, pausing to suckle the skin of your thighs and smirking when he feels the muscles flex underneath his lips.

“Lando, chico,” you croon, petting a hand through the curls at the crown of his head, “Look at me.”

He peeks an eye at you shyly, turning to face you fully, reassured at the enamored look you cover him with.

“Besamé,” you murmur, knowing it’s something Lando’s heard plenty of times from the man nestled between your legs. [Kiss me.] 

The younger understood, rushing to press his lips to yours filthly. The frantic energy is winsome, your chest tightening at the sounds of him whining and mewling needily into your mouth. He licks into your mouth insistently, his attention devoted to tasting the remaining sweetness of ice cream on your tongue. From below, Carlos hums as his tongue polishes off the remaining stickiness on your bronzed skin.

The sounds they rip from you are muffled by the younger man, but the grunt of annoyance Carlos makes as the lingering dulce de leche flavoring of your thigh disappears is clear. He drags his tongue against your labia in one firm stroke, your abdomen undulating at the unexpected attention to your cunt. He smacks his lips, savoring, before a moan rumbles through his chest.

“Better than the ice cream,” he announces, the brown of his iris darkened with greed. 

Lando frees your lips to look at his boyfriend pleadingly, and you take the time to breathe. He left you lightheaded as he kissed every ounce of oxygen from your lungs.

“ ‘wanna taste, ” Lando begs, and Carlos pulls up to meld their lips together, and you're briefly hypnotized by the muscles of his arms contracting through the movement.

The most reedy whine escapes the curly-haired man as Carlos shares the taste of your arousal with him. Your head is filled with the sound of blood rushing through your ears, buffering at the sight of the two men feasting on your essence��what were you thinking when you agreed to be a summer romance? You’re never going to be able to recover from this, and they haven’t even fucked you yet.

They separate, Lando’s chest heaving as he licks along his lips in search of any faint traces of your taste. Carlos resituates himself between your thighs, his voice carrying a firm edge, “Wait your turn, cariño. Keep being good for me—for us, yes?”

The younger man seems small as he nods, appearing a little empty-headed at the command, but he obeys. Turning back to peck your lips sweetly, Lando trails downward to leave a few marks of his own along the column of your neck.

You grab his jaw lightly, “No marks—,” the light in his eyes dulls slightly, “—that high up.” He brightens and lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nipping at your skin, energized by your nails scratching along his scalp.

Your mouth parts in a silent gasp as Carlos joins in. He laps between your folds sloppily, his nose knocking your clit with every bob pf his head. The hand that isn’t buried in brunette curls fists in Carlos’s locks of hair, holding him steady while he prods at your entrance with the tip of his tongue.

Your brain buzzes, toes curling as the older man eats you out, the sounds of him enjoying his meal reverberating through the air, harmonizing with your cries and Lando’s snuffles as he toys with your nipples.

Carlos presses a finger inside, thrusting shallowly against your fluttering walls and his mouth purses around your bud, the suckle of his lips puppeteering your spine into arching and your hips into bucking. His stubble scratches your thighs, the scrape searing but adding to your gratification.

He curls upwards, dragging roughly through the clenching of your cunt, adding a second finger that your walls swallow voraciously. The ache of the stretch is calmed quickly by the ample leaking of your arousal and the constant attention of a tongue on your clit as Carlos steadfastly hunts for your sweet spot.

Your mewls are ragged, forced from your lungs with every press of his fingers. Your eyes flutter as pleasure singes your skin, you find the strength to hold them open as you lock gazes with the man between your legs. His eyes are characteristically wide, but they scream his commitment to making you scream.

There’s no fighting. Your head falls back when his fingers graze near that pleasure point and your eyes screw shut when he perfects the angle and massages your sweet spot with his fingertips. 

A shrill shriek leaves your lips as the penetration becomes unrelenting. He constantly presses on the button that has your thighs tightening around his head, but the temptation of taking his final breath between your legs has him doubling down, suckling at your clit forcefully as he prods a third finger inside of you.

Lando chokes, crying out loudly as your hand yanks at his curls, his hips jumping to grind along your hip, his briefs damp from where he’s been leaking. Carlos’s laugh as he watches his boyfriend desperately hump in search of friction, vibrates around your swollen bud, forcing out a squeal nearly loud enough to drown out the sound of your slick squelching around his fingers.

Abruptly, he pulls away. His digits slip from your walls, your entrance left to pucker hungrily around air. Carlos’s stare is loud as he fights the urge to press inside of you again.

The lack of stimulation is maddening. You free your hold on Lando, and he collapses onto you, body pinning yours to the bed—his weight steadying as you restrain your anger at the sudden halt.

You blink deliriously at the sight of Carlos tearing a condom wrapper open with his teeth. The slowing rhythm of your heart speeds up as you revel at the image of his hand rolling the condom down his hardened length, flushed and throbbing with arousal. 

It’s daunting. It’s been a long time since you’ve last had sex. At some point, you decided to prioritize protecting your peace rather than dealing with men who aren’t going to do anything other than ruin your PH and fail to make you cum. It doesn’t help that Carlos is well-endowed; you need to come to terms that you’re going to have a limp after this.

Lando sits upwards to watch his boyfriend drag his length through your folds, moaning in unison with you as Carlos’s tip brushes along your pulsing clit. The Spaniard grunts at the heated slide before resting at the gape of your entrance, but he looks up to you for your go ahead. 

“I-it’s been a while,” you admit tensely, covering your eyes with the back of your hand as anxiety builds in your navel.

“How long is ‘a while?’” Carlos asks, without a single hint of judgment. Lando pulls your hand off your face tenderly, revealing their compassionate expressions.

“You remember how I joked about not kissing you guys until a second date?” You toy with Lando’s fingers distractedly, and they confirm their recollection, “Well—there hasn’t been anybody that’s made it past a second date in a long time.”

“Carlos is gentle,” Lando reassures you, halting your play with his fingers to hold your hand comfortingly, “I promise. And he listens very well, and pays attention, and goes at your pace. If he doesn’t, I’ll beat his ass.”

You giggle at that, your nerves fading as Carlos yelps at the threat. This exact kind of behavior is the kind you can see yourself falling in love with.

“Ay! Yes—Lando has permission to knock some sense into me if I hurt you,” Carlos jokes, pausing momentarily before his tone becomes hopeful, “And, we would really like to be the ones who make it to a third date—I’ll follow your pace, I swear.”

The knot in your stomach tightens for another reason besides arousal.

“I believe you,” you murmur, relaxing back into the bed, raising your’s and Lando’s joined hands to press a kiss to his wrist. Lando hums sweetly at you, laying at your side again, his free hand cradling your waist, thumb brushing calmingly on your rich brown skin. 

Carlos breaches you softly—gently, as Lando said he would. The three fingers he stretched you with was a safe play. If it were only two, you would be feeling a sharp pain instead of an ache. The burn is delicious, your inhale stutters as the head of his cock pops into you.

“Joder,” Carlos curses, his jaw clenched tightly, his grip tight on your thighs, as he inches deeper. His eyes trace your complexion attentively for any sign that it’s too much. “Relax, mi corázon—let me in.”

The sweet endearment encourages you to pant through a tiny whimper. Lando’s hand pets along your navel as he sweeps a kiss across your brow bone.

“‘s big isn’t he?” He murmurs, voice breathy, “Fuck—it’s gonna be worth it when he’s all the way inside you, yeah? Stretching you out just right, touching spots you didn’t know existed. It hurts a little, I know, love. But, it hurts so good, doesn’t it? I don’t know how that fits inside me every time I take it, but it’s worth it.”

You whimper fitfully—you want to watch Carlos make him take it.

The discomfort twisting your brows lightens slightly, and Carlos pulls out before he sinks another inch in. The shallow stroke sends an appealing rush of sharp pleasure skittering up your spine and it pools at the back of your head.

A real moan is forced from your chest, and your eyes open to see Lando tucking a curl behind your ear, smiling knowingly.

“Yeah, that felt good didn’t it, baby?” You can’t solely credit the burst of pleasure behind your eyes to Carlos’s barely there thrusts as he works deeper. The praise and pet names Lando seems keen to utilize should be accounted for as well. The Brit presses down on your navel with an astoundingly large palm.

His lips graze your ear as he whispers, “Don’t you wanna feel him here? All deep inside of you?” He pauses briefly, letting your imagination work before continuing. “I feel him there when he fucks me. Like he’s making room for himself, yeah? Gonna open up for him? For me? Gonna let yourself feel good, sunshine?”

Carlos’s hips meet the backs of your thighs as he bottoms out.

Choked gasps leave you and Carlos. Your skin alight, your pores flaring raw. His calloused hands rub over your hips and thighs, one settling where Lando’s was previously holding at your waist and the other amply squeezing the curve of your ass.

Behind your closed eyes, you see the white flare of heat zinging through every nerve ending, your body overstimulated at receiving pleasure in the highest, unfiltered form. Lando was right—it feels like he made room for himself. The weight of him is searing, your walls fluttering frantically as they adjust.

Your most conscious thought is realizing why orgasms are referred to as “little deaths.” Because, if him fucking into you for the first time is this good? Cumming around him has to feel akin to ascending to heaven.

The younger man turns your head towards him with a gentle nudge of your cheek. His eyes peer into you searchingly. You don’t know what he’s trying to find. You’re more concerned with coaxing him into another kiss.

You raise up with an unsteady arm, toppling forward to press your lips to his, but you miss and land near the corner of his mouth. At your disappointed grown, Lando moves to kiss you chastely, before he looks at Carlos.

The older man’s eyes are silken as they dance between you and his boyfriend. It takes Lando tugging him forward with a hand on his bicep for him to understand that you’re pining for a kiss from him as well.

The Spaniard catches the strangled mewl you make with his lips, the change in angle as he hovers over you amplifying the pressure of him within you tenfold. Delicately, he leads the dance of tongues, using the lip lock to distract you from the barely there roll of his hips.

It works, the nervous tension that had gathered in your core unraveling completely at the sensual rock. The grinds remain tender as he gradually works you up to weightier strokes and a quicker rhythm.

Your lips uncouple when your head lulls backwards, a drawn-out purr rolling underneath your chest. With your knees bending to cradle Carlos’s hips, you cast lidded eyes to the Spaniard, bathing underneath his appreciative gaze and the blissful twist to his brows as he rolls into you.

“Carlitos, fóllame,” you murmur, watching his eyes widen in surprise, “I said it’s been a long time, not that I’m going to break.” [Fuck me.]

Lando grins beside you, quieting his laughter by pressing his face into your hair. The older man flusters, a red flush spreading across his chest, and he reminds you that he’d promised to be gentle.

His dedication to his word is attractive and you’re thankful he followed through. You tell him as such, but not without another teasing jab, “Thank you for being gentle. However, I think continuing to be gentle when I ask for more might decrease your chances at a third date.”

Lando jerks upwards to gape at the two of you, frazzled, “That’s not even funny! Babe—do better!”

The brown-eyed man doesn’t entertain either of you with a verbal response.

A bitten-off shout is punched from your chest as his hips slam into you with vigor, your vision crossing as the older man settles into a hard pace. His cock threatens to slip out of you with every stroke out and your body jolts with every ruthless thrust inside, the maddening force turning your mind syrupy with arousal and lightning-hot pleasure.

Endless praise is voiced by Carlos between every rough grunting pant he releases. Your brain is filled with seductive words; bien chica, so tight, you sound so pretty, you can take it. 

You can only hope he hears your gratitude through your repeated moans. You dig your nails into his muscled back as he grazes your sweet spot every couple of thrusts. The sharp pain only has Carlos’s hips stuttering for a moment. He growls, his grip turns bruising as he fucks into you with abandon. Your lungs burn and your legs shake. You squirm beneath him fruitlessly, attempting to buck away from the overwhelming grind, but you're pinned underneath his body weight. Your escape attempt is noticed by both men.

Lando tuts, pressing you down into the mattress with an arm around your waist to prevent any future attempt of you shifting. “Don’t run from it, sunshine.”

Carlos laughs sardonically, and you squeal as shame crawls along your synapses at the noise. He changes the angle of his thrusts to bully that spongy spot inside of you relentlessly, “It’s not too much, no? I thought you said you didn’t want me to be gentle?”

Your body curls in distress, mouth-parted wide at the excruciating attention paid to your most nirvanic point . You try to squeeze your walls tighter around him, to afflict a hint of the unbearable pleasure he’s wreaked upon you. Your shocked to discover that he’s fucked you open so well that your cunt can’t do much more than take what he gives you.

Your wetness squelches with his motions, a thin layer of sweat accumulates on your skin and steams the air around you. The scent of sex and aftertaste of ice cream permeates your mind as your orgasm peaks. 

It bursts through you, the intensity slamming through you like a train. Your body falls limp as the pleasure overrides your control, the unrestrained screams of their names are piercing as the waves brutally crash over you. 

Carlos slams his lips to yours, your teeth clacking together painfully and you can only pant into his mouth as he messily kisses you through your orgasm and steamrolls into his own with his strongest pounding thrusts.

Spanish curses are hidden by your mouth as he lays into you, like he’s not quite done molding you to his shape. He fucks you both through it, the vigor of his grinds wearing as the spurts of his spend slows within the condom. 

His arms buckle, pushing an umphf from your chest as he falls onto you. The heaviness is grounding and you wrap your arms around him, shuddering through the aftershocks.

Lando shifts needily at your side, but doesn’t speak. He pulls the arm on your waist from underneath his Carlos’s torso and drags a finger along the reddened scores your nails carved into his boyfriend’s back, with a look in your eyes you can’t place. Is it envy? Quietly, you contemplate the ache you feel between your legs. 

“Get naked, cariño,” you rasp, finding a second wind at the younger man doing as you asked, “It wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t get a turn, too.”

Carlos nuzzles deeper into the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, his lips and eyelashes tickling your cooling skin. He misses the sight of his boyfriend wildly flinging his briefs to an unknown corner of the bedroom.

Sitting on his haunches, the Brit’s reaches to grab his cock. It’s leaking and (concerningly) redder than the skin of his cheeks from the lack of attention paid to it. He yanks his hand back as if slapped, and digs his nails into the meat of his thighs.

Oh, you think, is it too much for him or is he not supposed to touch?

You reach to close your palm around his poor, dripping length, only managing a single, loose stroke when a pained hiss is ripped from Lando’s teeth. His hips jerk back, freeing himself from barely there hold of your hand. The toned muscles of his abdomen jump as his cock flares and a stream of precum dribbles from his swollen tip.

“Fu-uck,” he shakes, “— ‘can’t. Too sensitive, ‘ll cum.”

The green and blue pools of his eyes are wet with moisture, and his chest—dotted with moles and patches of flushed skin—trembles with every inhale. The man laying on your chest shifts to trail his eyes over Lando’s form. The corner of his lips tilts into a smirk as his boyfriend attempts to hide his arousal behind a hand.

“Sol,” Carlos says to you as his eyes remain piercing into the Brit, “You should ride him—if you are able to, of course.” [Sunshine/Sun]

“Uhh…” you stutter, your attention bouncing between the two as you refrain from answering. 

The numbness settling within your cunt can be ignored if it means you get to have the younger man underneath you. Except, it looks like he’s about to cry, and you don’t want to pressure him into agreeing with your answer if he honestly can’t handle it. The teary-eyed man whimpers thinly, splaying himself on his back next to you, looking past you to meet Carlos’s eyes meekly, his voice tiny as he responds, “—won’t last.”

The Spaniard pulls out of you slowly, murmuring apologies and kissing your cheekbone when your brow twinges in discomfort. He helps you straddle the younger man’s hips, careful to support you as your legs haven’t stopped quivering.

His hand drifts between your pelvises, dragging a nail along the underside of Lando’s cock and you can’t deny the buzz of electricity that sings in your gut at the younger man’s wounded cry. The tears spill over his waterline, though he’s squeezed his eyes shut to try to stop them from falling. Carlos tuts at the man patronizingly.

“Too much, Landito?” Carlos pouts at him, “It is fine if you cannot take it. If you don’t want to cum tonight that’s—“

Lando’s eyelids spring open, looking at Carlos desperately as he babbles, “No,no,no,no—‘wanna cum. Please, ‘los.”

The seconds Carlos spends rolling protection over Lando’s cock are filled with choked gasps as the younger man cries, overwhelmed at the lightest touch of fingertips. You lower around his cock smoothly, walls clenching around him greedily, vision tunneling on the soundless bliss of his expression when your ass meets his skin.

You hum at the fullness, your mind settling at how right it feels. The first circle of your hips has Lando’s hands clawing at your hips, adding his own marks on your skin to compliment his boyfriend’s. He wriggles, overwhelmed, but bucks to meet your rolling body regardless.

He’s flushed from head to waist, fresh tears painting tracks of salt down his face before they drip off his jawline to splash on the bed sheets. Your pace remains tantric, and you don’t move more than an inch upwards to avoid testing his limits. The suckling, hot, drag is more than enough for him, if the pulsing of his cock is any telling. Your own sensitivity begins to bite at the base of your spine, your brain exhausted at the feeling of Lando pressing into the rawness that Carlos carved out.

The Spaniard must notice the way the two of you are tiring of chasing euphoria. Lando’s grinds weaken as the precipice of ecstasy is dangled in front of him, hoarse sobs racking through him as he fails to reach it on his own. Carlos splays his hand across Lando’s throat. The Brit’s whimpers pleadingly, and his mouth parts roundly as his boyfriend applies a light pressure to the sides of his neck. 

Lando shakes apart underneath you with uneven thrusts, his helpless gasps echoing through the room as you continue the grind of your hips to coax him through the bliss of release. He bodily restricts your movements when you edge him towards too-much, pulling you off of him with a single hand underneath your thigh. 

Your knees buckle, pitching over to lie face down next to the British man, who mewls sharply as Carlos pulls the soiled condom off. The heat of the Spaniard disappears, the sheets ruffling as he leaves the bed, causing Lando to make a noise of confusion.

“Water, mi amor,” Carlos chuckles, and you’re happy your face is hidden as you can’t contain your expression of envy at the endearment. He maneuvers Lando’s arms to curl around you, “I am getting us water. I will be quick.”

The younger man, as fucked-out as he is, uses a surprising amount of force to pull you into his chest as he buries his nose in your frazzled nest of hair. He uses his other hand to pull your leg around his hip and hums happily when your bodies press together without an ounce of space to spare. He squeezes you tightly, your dejected frown disappearing as you bask in his embrace, uncaring of the layer of sweat pooling on your cooling skin and the stickiness of your thighs.

There’s three cups with straws in Carlos’s hands as he rejoins the two of you on the bed. He sets one on the nightstand and holds the other two while you and Lando untangle your limbs. Once Carlos is satisfied by the slow sips you two take, he slinks into the bathroom and returns with a warm, soaked cloth to wipe the grime from everyone’s bodies. 

He’s careful about the press of the rag, paying attention to every muscle that tenses in sensitivity and tries to do the job as painless as possible. He nods in content once finished, scooping his glass up to rehydrate himself as well.

Lando bites at the metal straw, the gap of his teeth ridiculously cute even as his eyes brighten with mischief, “So…five minutes and we go again?”

“¡Que te jodan!” You cast a look of disbelief at him, “Lando you just cried through an entire orgasm and you want to go again? Already?” [Fuck you!]

The Brit shrugs loftily, slurping through the last bit of water in his cup and toothily smiling as he blinks at you in feigned innocence. His softened length twitches to attention, and you rest your head in your hand, shutting your eyes briefly for strength.

“Oh, what the hell,” you mumble, before clearing your throat, speaking louder, “I need like 15 minutes—or, until I can feel my legs again. Whichever comes first.”

Carlos collects the empty cup from Lando and sets it on the nightstand with his own. “Would you like to watch him fall apart around me while you wait?”

You choke on the sip of water in your mouth, coughing desperately to clear your throat as your eyes water from the burn. The worried look in the Spaniard’s eyes has an amused tinge to it, even as he pats you on the back in aid—you have a feeling he timed his question with your swallow on purpose.

“That’s a stupid question,” you croak, strangled, “Of course, I want to watch.”

You snuffle against a warmed patch of skin annoyed. The heat of sunlight paints your face golden, and you shift to burrow further into the warmth of limbs around you to drowsily slip back into sleep. You find yourself nodding off, but your ears become alert to the sounds of birds calling and chirping outside. 

Your body reacts before your brain as you fly upwards into a seated position. Shit! You have to go to work!

A pained whimper is exhaled as your lower body aches, sore from last night’s activities. The tangle of tanned arms fall limply around your waist at your change in position, the snores of the two men beside you uninterrupted. You carefully pry their arms away, and slip from the bed, digging through the pile of clothes on the floor, grinding your teeth at the numbness of your legs underneath you.

You dress yourself quickly, closing your eyes in thanks for Carlos forcing you into the shower before you passed out. Hopping across the bedroom to tug your skirt up, you stumble into the bathroom to examine the state you're in, pulling your shirt over your head all the while. 

Your curls are a mess, but that can be fixed at work. Lando respected your wishes of keeping his marks below the collar, but you can spot a few of the bruises on your thighs that their fingertips left. 

You curse briefly, unsure if you have a skirt long enough that would hide the mottled skin before remembering that you have a pair of biker shorts that you can slide on underneath that will get the job done. Pressing a thumb into the shape of Carlos’s thumb, you shiver at the glance of pain that sparks up your spine, swallowing tightly as you recall how it was left there.

With a shake of your head to expel the unseemly thoughts, you turn the faucet on to splash water on  your face. You need to call an Uber to get to work. Rushing out of the en-suite, you frantically search for your phone, trying to remain silent to avoid waking up the boys tucked in that ridiculously plush mattress.

“¿Qué estas buscando?” You screech frightfully at the rough timber of Carlos’ voice, spinning around to look at him. [What are you looking for?]

He’s preciously ruffled; his hair sticks up wildly, the comforter draped around his waist as he leans upwards, the planes of his tanned skin sharp in the morning hours, his eyes squinted in your direction under the brightness of the room—the curtains are wide open. 

Did you have sex—illuminated with a single lamp—with the curtains wide open? That’s a problem to fixate over later, you need your phone.

“Have you seen my phone? I can’t find it,” you straighten your shirt, your volume quieting near the end of your sentence as Lando shifts in the bed with a displeased pout that softens when he settles.

“I plugged it in here for you,” Carlos whispers, rolling to take it off the charger, flashing the marks your nails etched into his back. 

He lifts himself out of bed with a rough groan, your mouth drying as you watch him walk to you, clad in a pair of boxers that leave little (it’s not little at all, actually) to the imagination. Carlos’s hand cushions your cheek as he brushes his lips on yours softly, the delicate rhythm washing away your concerns about being late. 

Your lips break apart with a soft pop and he laughs at the discontented sigh you exhale, offering a languid press of lips to your forehead in apology. You reluctantly take the phone from his hand, your eyes bugging out as you realize that you needed to leave five minutes ago to have plenty of time to fix your appearance before you clock in.

“¡Puta madre!” you exclaim, “I’m fucked. I’m going to be so late ‘cause I have to wait for an car.”

“ —Wait for a car?” Carlos’s eyebrows twist in confusion, scratching at his stubble, “Where are you going? You are not staying?”

You throw him a soft look, turning away to figure out where your socks disappeared to, “I’m late for work, Carlitos. I can’t stay—even though I really want to.”

Carlos ah’s in understanding, assisting you in the search for your socks, his voice still croaky with disuse as he talks, “I can drive you? We are only twenty minutes away if you follow the road laws.”

You huff a laugh at his insinuation, tugging your socks on and patting at his arm softly, before gesturing to Lando in the bed, “You don’t have to. I don’t want to inconvenience you, you should be in bed with him. It’s my fault for not having my alarm properly set.”

Carlos shakes his head, rooting through his dresser for a pair of sweatpants that he pulls on, “You are not inconveniencing me. It would be rude if I let you be late to work after last night. I’m not that kind of man. Neither of us are.”

You give in as you watch him pull a plain white tee over his head—he’s too sweet for a fleeting romance. He ambles over to Lando, brushing the unruly curls off his forehead and pressing a kiss to his temple. He tucks the blankets around his boyfriend and a lick of jealousy blooms in your subconscious before you pluck it. 

Carlos grabs his own phone off another charger and stands, speaking to you warmly, “Your shoes and purse are downstairs, yes? There’s some protein bars in the kitchen pantry, grab as many as you want. I should have treated you to a proper breakfast but you do not have the time. I’m going to use the bathroom quickly, if that’s okay?”

You nod, and Carlos quietly shuts the bathroom door behind him. You breathe deeply at the situation you’ve found yourself in, and you scramble to send a quick text to the group chat telling them to cover for you and promising to cover a shift for anybody who does in the future. 

Your phone buzzes almost instantly after with an influx of messages and you click the screen off. They’re probably freaking out at the uncharacteristic vagueness of your whereabouts, but you put off responding to press your own kiss to Lando’s temple before heading downstairs, tenderly stepping to minimize the unsteadiness of your walk.

You appreciate the decor you didn’t get to see last night, the vacation home vibes blatant as you walk through; a modern twist of Spanish style decor. There’s even a fireplace you spot on your way past a sitting room.

You lace up your sneakers, grabbing your purse from the console table in the entryway before searching for the kitchen to grab a protein bar to hold you over until your lunch break. The kitchen is artful, modern in the sense of the new appliances but the colors and details of the tiled walls, clutter, and cabinets gives it a soul. It feels lived in.

You dryly swallow an ibuprofen—you always carry a few in your purse—hoping it will relieve your soreness before work. You open the pantry door, finding an assortment of protein bars and taking your time to read the labels as you hear a door open which means Carlos is heading down. You grab two bars that fit your taste and softly shut the door, unwrapping one to take a bite of now.

“Ah, I knew I would see you again,” Carlos Sr. smiles at you from the kitchen entry, chuckling at the way you jump and nearly drop the bars in your hands, “I will not lie to you, I thought it would be at the golf club and not here.”

Your lips part and seal as you search for a polite answer, but he continues speaking.

“Let me tell you a secret,” he clasps his hands delightfully, “Did my son tell you that he’s been asking me about you every time I am on the course? Papá, did you see her? Papá, when are you going back to Madrid? Aye, they’re smitten over you, mija?”

“¿En serio?” you relax at his mellow tone, enlightened by the new information. [Really?]

“¡Sí!” The older man exclaims, passing by you to start a pot of coffee, “To be honest, I thought you were out of their league last summer,” you laugh, knowing it’s definitely the other way around, “—Honestly!” He insists, turning to face you as the coffee starts to drip.

“I mean, you are in university, getting a further degree,” he shakes his head in respect of your commitment, “Those two just drive in circles for a living! I couldn’t even convince my son to drive rally like I did, ese cabrón.” [That bastard.]

You laugh a little harder at the jab on his own son, muffling it behind a hand, and he continues, “—And, when they told me they did not get your number! Ay! I was so mad at them. I told them to drop everything and go after you, but by the time they made their way up there you were already gone.”

You feel like shit about your outburst on the green. Your expression shutters, and he pats at your shoulder in comfort, “Oh. I-I didn’t know—“

“How could you?” He hums in question, “It is not your fault, if that’s what you are—“

“Mi sol, have you seen my wallet—” Carlos Jr. steps into the kitchen, words cutting off as he balks at the sight of his father, and he shouts, “Papá! ¿Qué hace aquí?” [My sunshine; Dad! What are you doing here?]

“¿Qué estoy haciendo en la casa que compré?” His dad fires back, amused at his son’s stunned question. [What am I doing in the house I bought?]

Carlos blinks at his dad before turning to you, slipping his hand into yours and tugging you out of the kitchen softly, “Let’s go; you’re going to be late, no?”

Sr. chortles as he grabs a mug from the cabinet, “¡Mijo! Hiding a woman from me?! It is okay, Lando will tell me everything. That is why he’s my favorite son!”

Carlos throws his head back with an exasperated groan, but it doesn’t hide the redness of his ears from his father’s teasing.

You stifle your smile, squeezing his hand pacifyingly, “Your wallet is in the bowl at the front. Um, if it’s possible,” you tuck a curl behind your ear shyly, “Do you have another car besides the Ferrari? I love it, but I cannot show up stepping out of that.”

Carlos snorts, shoving his wallet into his pocket and leading you to the garage, “Is a Porsche fine?”

“It’ll work.”

He gets you there in thirteen minutes, slowing the car to a crawl as you direct him to the employee entrance. You grab your purse, awkwardly pausing as you pop the door open. 

You face him with a sheepish grin, “Thank you for the ride. Tell Lando I said good morning.”

Carlos drags his eyes over your form languidly, before he nods imperceptibly, “Do you have enough time to get ready?”

“You’ve made up a few extra minutes for me with your skilled driving on the way here,” Carlos huffs a laugh at that, “So, I should be okay.”

The two of you fall back into silence, unsure of what else to say. You take the leap of faith this time around, it’s the most you can do after learning the way they tried to catch you before you left last summer.

“It wouldn’t be overstepping if I kissed you, right?”

“Ven aquí,” Carlos exhales, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning over the console to meet you halfway. [Come here.]

His lips are swollen and textured from your’s and Lando’s combined attention, but the kiss is the sweetest and most tender one you’ve ever experienced. The soft exhale of breath from his nose stokes the butterflies in your stomach, who flutter awake as adoration pumps through your veins. The two of you part, eyes fluttering open to stare softly. He settles back into his seat, looking at your lips longingly, his line of sight broken as you exit the vehicle.

You clear your throat, “Um, I’ll text you guys when I get home later, okay? Adiós, te qu—hasta luego.” [Bye, I l—see you later.]

You shut the door and speed walk into the building before he could say anything about how you nearly exposed how down bad you are already. You hope he doesn’t bring it up, for the sake of your mental stability. The moment you step into the employee locker room, you're accosted by your friends, Isa, Lucas, and Stephanie. 

“Damn,” Lucas snaps, “I was really hoping you’d be late. I need my shift on Tuesday covered.”

You shrug, sliding past the girls to walk to your locker. “Sucks to suck.”

“¡Oye, pequeña!” Isa and Stephanie box you in at your locker as you grab your spare uniform and sport shorts, Isa stresses, “You cannot, walk in here and act like nothing happened! You show up wearing the outfit I picked out for you yesterday? Your hair is a mess! You sent the vaguest text about possibly showing up late? And, you get dropped off in a Porsche!?” [Hey, girly(i guess, idrk how to explain it)!]

Stephanie’s eyes blow wide and you rest your head into the cool metal of your locker door as she bursts, “Girl—did you get laid?!”

“Thank you for that, Steph,” you bite out, turning to look at them with the politest grimace you can muster, “Now, everyone will know exactly what I got up to last night because Lucas—,” you point behind you with a thumb, speaking loudly to drive your words in, “—Is physically incapable of keeping his mouth shut.”

He raises his hands up and backs out of the locker room with a devious smile. 

Turning to Isa, you shake your head, “I do not know why you like him. He’s such a chismosa.” [Gossip.]

She rolls her eyes at you, following you as you make your way into the bathroom, “It’s not a bad thing. He tells me all of the gossip I miss out on–why are there bruises on your thigh—holy fuck! He must have big hands. Which means he has a big—”

“Okay!” You screech, running into a stall and locking the door shut behind you, “I will tell you and the girls every single detail as soon as we finish today!”

She makes a triumphant noise, her steps fading as she exits the restroom, “You better! Or, I’ll force you to listen to me wax poetic about Lucas’s eyes for hours!”

Scoffing, you tug your shirt over your head and yell back, “You already do that anyways!”

The slicked-back ponytail you gelled your hair into, has already sprung flyaways since you didn’t have enough time to set your hair with a wrap before you had to drive out onto the course. You’re almost three hours into your shift, and the sun feels like it’s at its strongest even though you have a few more hours of it burning hotter. Only twenty minutes until lunch, you remind yourself, then you can fix your hair and cool down in the restaurant's walk-in freezer.

You’ve just finished serving a bachelor party, a group of ten men who didn’t give you a hard time. You talked loosely with them, engaging in small talk because connections are everything and you never know who you might run into on the green.

Like Carlos and Lando, case in point.

The groom-to-be actually met his fiancé here. She was a bartender in the clubhouse about seven years ago, and on complete chance she ended up being the one to serve him. He was starry-eyed as he explained to you that he fell in love with her as soon as he saw her. He ordered an unbelievably expensive amount of drinks for him and his boys (the same group of men in the bachelor party), and when she slid the bill over to him, he said, “For this price, you could’ve bought me for the night.”

You called bullshit, and he looked at his friends who backed up his words; they all heard it when he said it. You watched as he took a sip from his beer bottle with a reverent shake of his head, “Now, we’re getting married next week. On August 12th, or 8/12. Which was the price of the tab that night, $812.”

You made a joke about him needing to strengthen his self-esteem if he would consider selling his body for a measly $800, and to attend an A.A. meeting because that’s a ridiculous amount of money to spend on drinks that leave your system quicker than you ingested them. 

The men crowed in laughter at your ribbing of the groom-to-be, but you did seriously congratulate him on his engagement and wished him a long, happy marriage.

And currently, you’ve parked your cart for a few minutes to get over the urge you feel to cry. You're jealous of a woman you’ve never met before because she gets to love a man who’s devoting the rest of his life to her. She gets to marry him, and you’ve agreed to be nothing more than a summer romance to the men you could see yourself falling in love with.

You thank the universe for allowing you to cross paths with the groom-to-be. It reminded you of your place with the Formula One drivers and it’s a temporary one.

Your walkie-talkie crackles with the sound of your name and you sniffle deeply, blinking your eyes quickly to rid the moisture. 

“What’s up?” You chirp cheerily into the voice box, waiting for a response.

“By chance, are you missing your earrings? Over.” It’s Ryan, he takes his radio messages seriously. You tug at your earlobes, and damn, you feel naked.

“I am. Did I leave them in the dressing room?”

“You have to say ‘over’ at the end of your messages, you know that. Over.”

“Ryan...” you hold the line open to annoy him a little bit before you give in, “Did I leave them in the dressing room? O-v-e-r, over.”

“I was going to be nice to you but you lost that chance. Over.” 

You snort, intrigued to hear how he’s going to ‘retaliate.’ The two of you started here at the same time and Ryan has become like a little brother to you, against your will. 

“I just wanted to let you know that two objectively handsome men turned in your earrings to the front desk,” you shout in surprise, firing up the golf cart and slamming the pedal down to head back to the clubhouse, “Hmm…I think they said you left them at their house last night. Overrrrr.” He draws the ‘over’ out teasingly and the walkie-talkie squeals with static and screams of surprise from the other employees on the channel.

“TWO? YOU FREAK!!!” Lucas.

Incoherent screaming. Isa.

“Nobody here can call me a slut anymore!” Rob.

“Is that why you couldn’t sit comfortably at the morning meeting?!” Sofia.

Ryan’s voice crackles through, “Oh! I forgot to mention—don’t worry about stealing food from the restaurant for lunch; they dropped off a meal for you. Over.”

The walkie-talkie explodes with noise and you turn the volume to zero. You’re reporting them all to HR.

You tune out the jeers in the break room as you devour a croquetade jamón and chase it with a spoonful of rice. You send a photo of the food with a thumbs-up in the frame, to Carlos and Lando. You type out your thanks for the jewelry return and lunch. There’s no hesitation as you press send on message inquiring about when the third date is going to happen.

The third date is private cooking lesson where you’re coached through making a few classic Spanish tapas. Lando immersed too deeply and only responded to ‘Chef Lando’ during the class. Carlos ate all of the chorizo he was supposed to use on his flatbread. You terrify the actual chef with your less than savory cutting technique. Your torn apart on their fingers that night, as they take turns coaxing you over the cliff.

You decrease the amount hours you’re able to work at the golf course. You’re only on the schedule during the middle of the week–Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday—leaving you with a four day weekend to frolic around Madrid with your boyfr—with Carlos and Lando.

The fourth date is dinner and a show. It’s your first time watching a ballet, and your lucky enough to be watching the performance at Teatro Real, one of the most prestigious opera houses in Europe. It’s also the first time you get railed in a women’s bathroom stall at Teatro Real, one of the most prestigious opera houses in Europe.

Lando pants raggedly as he fucks into you from behind, “Ah—shit, sunshine, you’re so tight.”

Your moan is muffled around Carlos’s cock and he hisses at the vibration, knocking his head against the stall door loudy. 

When Lando climaxes, he whimpers out a, “te quiero.” You pretend to miss it as you concentrate on sucking Carlos to completion. Carlos licks his spend from your tongue, babbling his te quiero’s into your mouth. You don’t say it back. [Te quiero means I love you, but it’s more casual, less serious in nature.]

The fifth date is pottery and you ride Carlos’s face to the image of Lando’s hands coning down his clay on the wheel. The sixth date is driving around the outskirts of Madrd’s city limits and passing the phone around to queue a song to play as you three switch between talking and enjoying the tunes. 

The seventh date is painting the mugs you made; you made two, one for Carlos and one for Lando—they each made you one as well. You’ve painted Carlos’s as a lemon and Lando’s as an orange—and homage to the sip of sunshine line they pulled on you. Lando painted a field of sunflowers for you. Carlos painted a sun with rays spilling from it, the words ‘my sunshine’ scripted into the middle of the sun.

Somewhere between the fifth and seventh date, they became comfortable with saying te quiero  to you outside of sex. 

It’s said as you serve them drinks on the course, as they drop you of at home after dates, as they cuddle with you without wanting more, as they wake you up between them in the morning. 

You give in somewhere beewen the sixth and seventh date. But, you only allow yourself to say te quiero during or after sex.

And, you stifle your sobs of anguish into your pillow at home, dreading the day you return to school and they return to racing.

Your dad enjoys the mobile car show of priceless automobiles that appear in his driveway to pick you up. Your mom eagerly awaits your renditions of your dates every night and you’re careful to edit around the explicit parts. 

The dates progress to you spending your four days off at their  Carlos Sr. 's vacation home, packing a bag with your necessities so you don’t have to risk wasting time away from them by stopping at your house. They take the time to explain to you just how much of a goat Lewis Hamilton is. Lando helps with your wash day, soaking up your tidbits of advice for his own curls. Carlos lets you soundboard ideas for your dissertation off of him without complaining, iterjecting every once in a while with a viewpoint you hadn’t considered. 

Your craving for intimacy is satiated. They twirl you around in the kitchen to Spanish ballads they sing terribly at the top of their lungs. They terrorize you on the green, choosing increasingly difficult cocktails for you to make so you have to spend more time with them instead of doing your job. You and Carlos terrorize Lando with a football games of keep away. You and Lando terrorize Carlos by hiding his shirts from him so he has to walk around topless. They don’t terrorize you in retaliation—if you don’t count their constant te quiero’s as terrorizing acts.They pick you up at some ridiculous hours when you’ve gone clubbing with your friends; making sure you chug a glass of water, helping you rinse off in the shower and moisturizing your skin before dressing you in their clothes, doing your skincare for you before putting you to bed. 

They drag their feet through helping you repack your belongings on the morning of your last day in Spain. You let Lando get away with tugging garments out of your bag every time you turn your back to him, hiding your smile as you see Carlos assist him by stuffing it at the bottom of the pile of clothes that doesn’t seem to shrink.

Eventually, they give up. Their eyes trace your form as you do your last walkaround to make sure you haven’t left anything behind. Your check ends at the front door, grabbing your keys from the bowl on the entryway table.

You sigh heavily, “Well, don’t just stand there.”

They gravitate towards you, hugging you tightly and peppering an endless amount of bittersweet kisses along any patch of skin they can reach. Lando hunches down to hide his face in your neck, and Carlos rests his forehead against yours.

“¡Chicos, calmaté!” Your giggly exclamation sounds watery, “I am coming back next year, remember?”

“That’s too longgg,” Lando complains into your neck, his voice sounding as pitiful as yours. You step backwards to cradle his face between your hands. His cheeks are ruddy and his eyes are dejected even as he smiles shakily under your touch.

“Date us.” Carlos blurts out desperately, “Ay, perdóname—May we date you, please?” [Forgive me.]

You gape at the older man, struggling to ascertain what he’s asked of you. 

Stumbling gracelessly, your hands fall from Lando’s face, who makes a hurt noise at the loss. “Date me? I thought you both said this was just a fling?”

The Brit twists his hands together at your words, his face saddening further as he corrects you, “Summer romance—fling is too harsh.”

“Too casual?” You shout, “I thought this was supposed to be casual! I felt like shit whenever I didn’t say te quiero back! I wanted more the moment we sat down at that restaurant a month ago, but I thought I couldn’t have it because that’s not what we agreed on!”

“You want more?” Carlos clarifies, his tone optimistic. 

“¡Cabrón!”  You laugh, hurtling forward to throw your arms around his neck. Relieved tears spill over your waterline, soaking into the Spaniard’s shirt. “I’m damn near in love with you guys–yes,yes,yes, I want more.”

Lando glows, blubbering incoherently with happiness and you shush him with your lips.

“I wish you had asked me days ago,” you sniffle cutely, smiling crookedly as you continue, “—’cause I really do have to leave, or I won’t have enough time to pack my things into my suitcases at home.”

You groan as you find yourself with an armful of two Formula One drivers bemoaning the unfairness of being separated from you even though they just got you.

“Mis amores, escúchame—you had me the entire time,” you coo, “We all know how phones work. We can communicate speedily with texts, and video calls, and send voice messages, and even regular calls. If we’re doing this we have to have a serious talk about it when I land in the States, yeah? Long distance is difficult, but I’m willing to put in the effort to make it work, if you two do the same.” [My loves, listen to me.]

“Phone sex isn’t the worst thing in the world,” Lando quips, smiling as he watches you and Carlos chortle at the unexpected comment.

The laughter ringing through the air fizzles out. You bite your lip, shaking your head slightly as their stares fixate on your mouth. They haven’t managed to stop ogling at your lips over the course of the month.

“Te quiero,” you state. Lando repeats it back instantly, Carlos kisses you before doing the same.

You pick up your bag from the floor, “Promise me that you’ll do your best to make this relationship work.”

Their confirmations are swift, even taking turns crossing their pinkies with yours and with themselves. Your heart sings with love. They walk you to your car. Carlos takes the bag from your hand and places it in your backseat, Lando holds your door open, making sure you don’t hit your head as you sit in the driver’s seat. 

He shuts the door smoothly, and you roll down the window to exchange your last goodbyes. 

“See you next summer.”

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[luvvixu]

the end

synopsis: the end of your relationship was inevitable. that's why both of you and gojo satoru individually prepare yourselves against the pain and separation of an upcoming divorce. and when that thing came, you suddenly found yourselves trapped inside the circle of your marriage where denial is present, and acceptance is absent. let us all see how the marriage walk through the end.

tags: divorce!au, ex-husband!gojo, angst, hurt/no comfort, mentioned of death, mentioned of trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: here's an almost 8k words of oneshot about gojo marriage again. i've mentioned this before but im taking a very small break and will be back on june 5 with an update regarding to the chapter of mind over matter ff. be sure to check out the announcement!

it was a peaceful morning on your balcony with satoru gojo, your husband for almost two years. you are reading your newly purchased book with your glasses on to help you see the letters.

you take a second peek at your husband who was already gazing at you from the beginning. his gaze was painted with a mixture of sadness and adoration towards you. looks like he had something to say, and you're right, he did have something to say when he mumbles your name.

oh god, you knew where this conversation would be. keeping your eyes bore on him, you fully turned your attention to him and waited for him to speak what's on his heart and mind.

"i think we should file a divorce."

his voice was monotonous and yet you knew it really wasn't, his face also did the same since you also didn't hold one either. your expression still remained calm like he was not asking for a divorce as you closed your book and then put it back on the coffee table.

meanwhile, satoru couldn't read you at this moment because you were quiet, too quiet for his liking. were you so shocked that you couldn't react to his sudden cut of ties? or was it just you already expected this the moment when you woke up?

probably, the most accurate reason and answer was the second one. satoru watches you lean on the seat with your hands clasp on your lap. he also never fails to see the neutral glaze in your eyes.

"if you are wondering why i didn't hold any emotion as you speak, that's because i already reacted a year ago." a sigh escalated from your lips as you removed your glasses also and put it on the table.

"you expected that this day would come?" he said in silence while secretly fiddling with the calluses on his hand—a hidden and canonical habit of satoru whenever he feels anxious and worried.

before this day would come, the two of you got married when both of you were twenty. a young, dumb, and somehow not stupid but definitely reckless who took a big tramp of change among themselves.

satoru was the one who asked you to get married after almost four years of being inside an on and off relationship. that was very fast and very reckless at that time—but of course you agreed because you are a fool to get yourself blinded by your love towards him.

so, the two of you got married and with only some people whom you both held close dearly attended the said wedding. it was simple and civil, but to you, it was your everything. the wedding and this marriage mean so much to you.

your marriage went pretty well in your first few months of being married. both of you got yourself a house with a nice garden that you absolutely adore, you also got yourselves a work almost instantly too. satoru got more missions since he was now a graduate, while you work in your own cafe and occasionally take jujutsu stuff.

things were really fine with heaven as the witness. until one night during your almost first anniversary, you caught him going home around three to four o'clock in the morning with a smell of alcohol and woman's perfume that's definitely not yours. he's really drunk, which was weird because he hates alcohol. you wondered what's the occasion or any celebration that should be celebrated and whatnots, but you can't think of any. so that leads you to silently crying.

you did not confront him about your first suspicion of cheating, you want him to admit it himself, but that doesn't mean you're going to tolerate that piece of shit because for god's sake! there's a fucking hickey on his neck that night, you knew it wasn't yours since you've barely had an intercourse due to both of your busy schedules.

you remember asking him about his whereabouts that night like you weren't aware, but his answer just disappoints you, he told you that he had an emergency mission and needed him in action asap at kyoto around 11pm and it took him some time to finish it. as mentioned before, his answer disappoints you, because your assumption has been partially proven.

satoru was clearly lying about his whereabouts that night but still the cheating allegations were not clear. maybe the seemingly foreign hickeys on his neck was already evidence but you're probably still in denial, so you didn't instantly conclude that he was really cheating with you.

but you still couldn't shake off his illicit affairs. why? because satoru was lying about the emergency mission on kyoto. he wasn't there, you knew that because you were the one who took the mission, not him. satoru actually rejected the mission because he's busy with other matters so you took it yourself without even telling him.

all of these things that are happening leads you back to that day when he proposed to you. it was so sudden that it made you a little bit skeptical. but when you asked him why he suddenly asked you to get married? easy, you didn't know.

however, you had your hypothesis that after geto disappeared and went on his rebellious phase, you let gojo use you to relieve his grief. that is why when you realize that this marriage is meant to not last long, you secretly cry to yourself during your first year anniversary as a married couple.

meanwhile, satoru knew to himself that he couldn't stand a long-term relationship. though he also started to feel bad for making things go very quickly with you, his love towards you is pure and genuine. in fact, he would do anything just to keep you safe and happy. but he wasn't able to do that when you're the opposite of him.

he is selfish and you are selfless.

no matter how hard he tried to change or even make things up for you, he just couldn't do it. there's this invisible dark string that pulls him inside the void of darkness. and he couldn't afford to bring you down with him. the thing that geto did really left a scar, a permanent scar to his chest that creates an inescapable hole that keeps on growing bigger and sucking his life in the process.

while you, you fully commit yourself to him. that's why everything would be pointless for satoru to let himself get hurt just to protect you. because you would literally throw yourself in the fire when he's burning.

it was like the two of you are a magnet with the same pole. you can't attract each other no matter how hard you try to let them collide.

back to reality, your head was faced downward. your husband sought for your eyes by calling your name meticulously, but you refused. an internal laugh at your pathetic figure rang through your mind, you are laughing at yourself for believing that you are already prepared for this moment, turns out, you're not—you’ll never be.

satoru mumbles your name again. and all of the sudden, you just let out a nod, followed by a small sigh. you let yourself look at him again despite the unnoticed tears in your eyes.

"okay, but let's spend this whole day as husband and wife for the last time. let's do the things we usually do during our free time." you said, and satoru agrees with you almost instantly. he thinks this is the least thing he could do for you before setting each other free.

everything went normal for the rest of the day. satoru takes you out for lunch, visits your favorite cafe for desserts, and even goes to the park where he asked you out to be his wife.

and right now, the two of you are in the cemetery, specifically in haibara's graveyard. the sun was proceeding to its dusk, making the place a bit solemn because of its ambience.

"do you think he'll be mad at my decision?" your soon-to-be ex-husband asked you with his small tired voice. haibara was your bestest friend of all and he actually talked to gojo when he's still alive about his relationship with you. he would like gojo to take care of you and treat you more than you deserve in your entire life.

"i don't think so. haibara only wants the best for us. he's a man of freedom, after all. and yet, how ironic because he, himself, has no freedom during his time in the jujutsu." you answered him as you watched the candle burn itself.

satoru looked at you. "how about you, y/n? are you mad at my decision?" he asked you a bit hesitant.

you just smiled at him and said, "i will answer that later, satoru." satoru nodded at your answer, he understood that you had a lot to say to him later.

after some time, you two decided to go home to your shared apartment. the journey back was fun and relaxing, it was filled with smiles and laughter that will soon vanish as the dawn is coming.

6:00 PM

both of you arrived at home. you helped satoru hang his coat on the raker like you usually do whenever he comes home during winter. this small act is something that would be definitely missed by him dearly, since you will not be around to do it.

"thanks for agreeing to go out with me." you said to him with a smile that almost reached your eyes. the only thing that stops you from giving your bestest smile was the divorce, but you subside because this is your last day as a married couple. you have to enjoy it to the extent.

"that was the least thing i could do for you before…nevermind." he said. satoru was not cheerful enough to make you smile whenever your eyes met. you also noticed that he was downhearted since you visited haibara's graveyard.

though as you were heading in your shared apartment, he was smiling and laughing. guess you didn't overlook him at all and you failed to notice his hidden pain.

you watched him lay down on the couch. "you looked bothered. was it because i didn't answer your question earlier?" you said quietly.

satoru didn't say anything, and according to his vocabulary, silence means yes. you sigh to yourself and take a seat on the same couch where your husband was lying in.

your hand reached out for his face, cupping it as satoru looked at you with his hooded eyelids. those magical six blue eyes are staring at you with known emotion, pain and agony.

"you didn't ask me why i suddenly wanted to get divorce…" he mumbles, nestling his head in your palm.

"you agreed without questioning me. i don't even see you cry about this. why y/n? are you hurting yourself by keeping your emotions inside you?" he continued. the pain in his voice breaks your heart into bits of pieces. satoru looked so vulnerable, his true emotions are showing exclusively for you.

you let out a small but bitter chuckle. "crying is not part of the things we usually do during our free time together, toru." his eyes widened at your answer. a droplet of tears slide down on your palm. satoru was crying, and you let him weep because you knew he's pent up.

"and i'm not mad at you. i also didn't ask you any questions because i know you know what you are doing and i respect your decision." you added.

"although, i admit. i want to bawl my eyes out. i want to scream because my heart is aching for believing that i was prepared for this moment." your breathings started to become shaky also just by watching satoru weep under your touch.

you refused to cry. at least not now.

"but i don't want to ruin this day by crying. i want both of us to savor this moment with smiles and laughter. so that when we part our ways, we wouldn't have any regrets to hold."

"so, satoru…let's continue to spend the rest of our night happily, hmm?" you let yourself smile for him to be motivated to stop from crying. however, he did the opposite. satoru cried even harder.

your hand is being cradled by him. you could feel his tears on your palm followed by his little hiccups. this scene alone in front of was usually enough to make you cry even harder than him. it was utterly heartbroken to see your man cry like this.

"hush, my…" love, that's the word you would like to say but forbids you to do so. satoru also noticed it too and he absolutely hates the feeling of it.

"l-love. call me love. c-call me like you used to call me before. first name basis is not part of the things we usually do during our free time together." he mimicked your words earlier. though it may sound like a joke, it isn't. satoru has been dead serious since the beginning of the day.

"my love…"

"y-yes, my sweetheart?" he responded.

your lips quiver from the overflowing emotions in your chest, but you still refuse to let yourself cry even when you're all by yourself. god, you are hopeless and devastated.

but dear me, it felt so good to hear him call you with endearing words. oh how you wish this kind of moment would last forever. maybe in another life, it would be. only if fate would be kind enough to give satoru to you again, maybe it will and it would be.

8:00 PM

satoru was all alone. his eyes were puffy from crying and stuff. he was such a mess. and if anyone would see, they would probably think that he's a zombie because of how low energy he was.

it took him almost an hour to stop crying. and you declared that this is the first and would be the last time that you would see him cry very hard.

right now, he was currently packing his things as he was about to move out tonight while playing betty by taylor swift. somehow, his mood got even more affected by this song, for every lyric hits him hard and he doesn't know why.

"♪ you heard the rumors from inez, you can't believe a word she says ♪" the radio sang. a shaky sigh came out from his mouth, he felt like crying again.

“♪ most times, but this time, it was true ♪”

"let me help you pack your things." you suddenly barge inside your onced shared bedroom after cleaning up for tonight. you are also in your sleep wear when satoru looks at you.

“♪ the worst thing that i ever did, was what i did to you ♪”

you didn't fail to notice that he is listening to one of your favorite artist's songs. a flashback hits you, it was the moment where you persuade him to listen to it with you. now, he has grown invested in their songs.

he mumbles a small okay as he watches you sit down beside him and redo the messy clothes he just stuffed inside his luggage. most of his clothes were luxurious like polo shirts, slacks pants, coats, and his favorite, blindfolds.

your eyes soften when you come across a small pouch that contains hair ties and bobby pins you onced bought for him as a prank. you still remembered the moment he let you tie his messy white locks with colorful pins and he looked so incredibly pretty with it. you couldn't help but to feel yourself getting emotional again.

don't cry. don't cry. don't cry.

meanwhile, satoru remained very quiet, for he was staring at the photo in his hand. it was your wedding photo where the both of you are wearing traditional japanese attire. he couldn't help but stare at your smiling face for too long. you looked so beautiful.

the wedding was very simple, but satoru describes it as one of his happiest days, and he is not lying to himself whenever he would say that. because he onced dreamed of getting married to you, and it came true. he also had the same state as you, both on the verge of crying.

"i wonder…would you get remarried someday?" he asked out of the sudden. you shifted your gaze to him and found him staring at your wedding photo. instantly, your eyes went soft.

"i am not sure." you replied silently as you closed his luggage and proceeded to the other one.

your hands momentarily stop working as you stare at them and watch it shake. "but if i do, it would probably take me a decade or so to find another husband to love." you said. but truth to be told, you had no motivation left to find another husband.

"you're twenty-two right now. so like…you'll be thirty plus by then when that happens," he calculated. "how about you? would you consider getting remarried also?" you asked him the same question.

he thinks for a moment before nodding slightly. "probably yes." your heart let out a wince but you tried your best to hide it. those words unintentionally hurt you and cut you deeper than a knife.

"w-well, i just wished good luck for both of us in the future." the crack in your voice didn't go unnoticed by satoru. he was about to reach you but then eventually dropped it. "me too…" was all he could say.

"anyway, do you mind if i ask…where are you staying after this?" you trailed off.

"i'll stay with higuruma for a day before moving out to my new apartment. speaking of that man, i told him to be here around midnight. so we still have four hours to be together." he answered

"...yeah."

10:00 PM

the two of you are sitting on the same seat just like this morning in the balcony. you are wearing your favorite cardigan as satoru was in his coat to fight the cold weather of the night.

all of his things were already packed and ready to leave. soon, you'll be alone and this house will not be lively as usual because his presence will be missed.

both of you refuse to say a word, yet. because you two are scared to have another breakdown that made this marriage even harder to break. especially satoru, he was aware that deep inside him he was not ready to let you go. he was just lying to himself because he is aware that he can heal if he gives himself some time.

"y/n, can i hold you here in my arms?" satoru swallowed all of the bitterness he felt for leaving you just to hold you again, for one last time. you slowly stood up from your and came towards in front of him.

your soon-to-be ex-husband gazes upon you. however, you refuse to meet those warm eyes that you loved the most. satoru slowly pulls you into his lap and cradles you like his greatest treasure, which you definitely is.

when your face hits his shoulder, you couldn't help but to hide your face deeper into his neck. "the place i'm going to stay afterwards is far from here. are you sure you will be okay?" he whispers in your ears.

"yeah, i'll be fine." you nodded solemnly. "i also planned to stop from my work for a while." you added.

"why?" satoru raises his eyebrow. he thought you loved your job as a barista. you enjoyed making coffee and wherever there's extra pastries left in the cafe, you would take it home for him to try it.

"don't worry, i had a lot of fortune that could last for a century. and besides, you even said i had a midas touch, so surviving won't be too hard for me." when your parents died, they left all of their fortune to you. so that makes you an instant millionaire and nobody knows that beside your husband.

satoru gently pushes you to meet his eyes. "i think this moment is perfect to give all of my secrets away. i don't need any perfect lies to hide from you anymore." he tucked the loose hair on the back of your ear, admiring your beautiful frame under the pale moonlight.

he gulped nervously, and for some reason, you're becoming very anxious about what he's going to tell. all you had to do was to wait for him to speak his thoughts out.

"the reason why i want to divorce is to have a new life and forget about the past. that includes you, y/n." though he only started, millions of knives already stabbed your poor heart. your eyes stared at him, a bit widely.

satoru couldn't bear to look at your pained expression, but he forced himself to look at you. so that you would feel his sincerity. "before suguru disappeared, he once told me to choose another path of life. he told me to run away from the jujutsu, run away from my life." he said, almost whispering.

"although, i want you to come with me. but…"

"i somehow got myself involved with the jujutsu too?" you continued it for him. satoru falls silent, so that means yes, it is true.

satoru cups your face. "i'm sorry, y/n. i really, really love you. but this is not the right path for us. you'll get more hurt if you continue to get tangled with me. so, after a lot of thinking and consideration…"

"i became selfish once again. i chose myself over you, y/n."

for the nth time, the walls you have been building around your emotional state are starting to shake once more. you could feel the hot tears building in your eyes.

you will not cry. you will not cry. you will not cry.

"i-i understand…although, you don't have to apologize for choosing what is the best for you. i'm actually glad that you're finally doing it." you plant your palms over his hands on your cheeks, closing your eyes to swallow up those annoying tears.

"i'm such a bad husband, aren't i?" satoru chuckles weakly. what has he done to deserve you like this? your understandment is something that he greatly admires in you. your heart is pure like an angel from above.

an angel like you can't fly down hell with him.

but god, you're making yourself willing to go down with him without any hesitation and that is just completely wrong.

and for the past years, satoru would make a mistake and you are there to correct him patiently. he would always tell himself to make something and make everything up for you. but who would have thought a divorce is the best thing to do?

"to be honest, not at all. remember what i told you before we got married? you are the fire and i'm the—"

"gasoline?"

"no silly, that's a song." your laugh brightens up the atmosphere. satoru smiled at your happy demure, he likes seeing you this joyful.

"you are the fire and i'm the fireman. a fireman would not function completely when there is no fire. meaning, why would i, a fireman, be here if there's no you, a fire." you raised your fingers to help you visualize your point.

"does that make sense to you?"

satoru shook his head. "no."

you snapped your finger. "exactly! you think i'm bad at explaining things, while i think of myself as great at explaining things. that's the same as you thinking you're a bad husband, while i think of you as a great husband."

"..."

"i made you speechless, meaning you agree and i'm great at philosophy!" you boosted yourself by imagining a crowd was giving you a round of applause.

your husband wonders for a moment before cackling a laugh. "that still didn't make sense to me but it brought a lot of comfort to me. thank you, y/n."

"come on! just admit you love my philosophical nonsense." you pouted, hitting his shoulder playfully.

satoru laughed once again, pulling you by waist as he buried his face in your hair. "of course i do. i love everything about you." and he would still do, always and forever.

"i'm going to miss this." you mumbled as you relaxed on his touch. satoru also agrees, kissing your head all over again.

"and i'm going to miss you too, a lot." he said sincerely. the two of you held the longest stare on this day. you just let yourselves drown with each other's enticing orbs.

satoru was the first one to break the record by sighing and rubbing his eyes. the truth is, he couldn't bear to look at you any longer because he could see how broken you looked through your eyes just because of him. instead, he hides his face once more on your neck.

“i'm really, really, really sorry, y/n. i'm so sorry for using you. i’m so sorry for cheating on you. i’m so sorry for hurting you. i'm so sorry for not choosing you again. i'm so sorry for being selfish. i'm so sorry for everything." there it is, again. his hot tears are back and now drenching your shoulder.

"i used you as a getaway from my sins and from the grief that day, y/n. you should've said no when i asked you to marry me, but why did you do the opposite?" his voice became slightly thicker, he's definitely frustrated.

"i did it for love, satoru." you answered without hesitation.

satoru momentarily stopped crying as his breath hitch. "yes, i'm already aware of your true intentions that day. but i still chose to marry you because i love you. i know it sounds so dumb but it's true." you continued.

you could feel his arms around your body tighten, scared of letting you go from nothing. it was like he was begging the gods, if there was one seeing the both of them right now, to let him be delusional and not take you away from him.

"let me ask you this time, do you regret marrying me?" you whispered.

your husband looked at you with unshed tears. "i don't. but i regret that this is the end of us."

why is it always the time where someone would tell their true feelings when everything is falling apart? so if this divorce wouldn't happen, does that mean his word would be forever kept inside him?

"i've always wanted to tell you that i was actually glad that you became my wife. i thought you would be my endgame. instead, you became the reason why i am still here and breathing."

the void of regret is slowly pulling him inside. but you are there to make sure that he would survive the gravitational pull. you just loved him so you will help to let you go.

"i love you, my sweetheart, my y/n, m-my wife..."

12:00 AM

it was quiet, really, really quiet. higuruma was looking at the two of you all over again. his eyes showed sympathy for both of you and he was sad because this is the end for you and satoru.

right now, both of you are staring blankly at the divorce paper on the table. no one was making a first move by signing it.

you let out a sigh, a heavy feeling was buried deep in your heart. your whole body feels so numb and you still haven't cried for today. everything feels so wrong, yet at the same time it feels right. you don't know what to do anymore.

as you recall your conversation with him, you just wished it didn't end and would continue forever. because you know you'll never get tired of hearing his voice, his laugh, and his philosophical nonsense too.

not to mention, you've also dreamed of building a family with him. a mini satoru and mini y/n sounds nice, doesn't it? as your eyes wandered across this apartment, you can depict your children with him running around. god, if you were dreaming, please don't wake up.

"higuruma, can you please just wait for me in the car…? i-i would like to have a final conversation with my wife." satoru suddenly spoke and nanami left without hesitation.

"so this is it?"

"yeah, t-this is the end." satoru chuckles breathlessly. there was like a big chuck on his throat that made him feel suffocating. truth to be told, he doesn't want this to be the end. but again, he has to.

"thank you for giving me a total of the best six years of my life, toru. i mean it, thank you." you counted the first four years of your relationship and the two years of your marriage. playing with your hands to mend the shakiness, it was a constant reminder that only a few minutes left before the surname satoru would be stripped of your name.

"thank you too, y/n. i also had so much fun and love these past six years. thank you for all of the things you have done for me." he said silently.

all this time, you are the only one looking at him because his eyes were focused on the paper in front of him. "good luck on your new path. i wish you the best." you intentionally called his attention.

"you're really staying here in this apartment…alone?" satoru asked you.

you let yourself smile slightly as you shifted into a more comfortable position. "yeah… just in case you feel homesick, this would be a reminder that you still have a home…only if you want to." the air in this room is very thick and it's suffocating you.

"t-thank you, y/n, really." he expressed his gratitude once again.

a nagging feeling tells you that satoru was about to go back on his decision at any minute. and you too would probably go back to your decisions you had set for both of you. it would be more devastating for you if satoru didn't achieve his plans for himself in the near future.

"let's not make higuruma wait."

satoru falls silent. now he was stuck in a madness of a dilemma. in short, he was starting to rethink his decision to the point that he didn't notice he was staining the divorce paper with tears. his hands began to shake violently along with his cries becoming louder any minute.

satoru finally lost his cool as he wailed loudly in front of you. the sound of his sobs made you clench your lip as your chest tightened once more.

you on the other hand, you're trying your best not to slip any tears down from your cheeks. you successfully stopped them from falling this morning, you couldn't afford to cry not because there's only a few minutes left before you would let yourself fall into a pit of sadness.

sensing that neither of you would make a move, you are aware that satoru couldn't bring himself to do it even though he had to. so, you gently steal the paper away from him.

divorce agreement…it read. oh how you despise those two words.

"satoru, i mentioned to you a while ago that the reason why i want to spend this last day as a married couple is because i want us to leave without holding any regrets." you started with your pen touching the paper. satoru's eyes widened, he wanted to stop you from doing it but nothing was coming out from his mouth.

"i can see it in your eyes, you're doubting your decisions." you continued as you wrote your name. in satoru's horror, only your signature is needed and everything would be over for him.

however, you stopped writing. you tapped the table to gather his attention to you. there he saw you smiling dearly at him.

"did you have fun spending time with me this whole day?" satoru knows your intention. you are encouraging him to do what he was supposed to do even if it means leaving you.

"yes…yes i do, i enjoyed being with you." he stuttered. the tears were still streaming down his face and he was using his sleeve to wipe it. you reached for the tissue and gave it to satoru as you watched him wiped his eyes and blow his nose.

"that's good to hear. i also had fun being with you. not only for this day, but the whole time i was with you, i enjoyed it." you grabbed his hands to soothe it by massaging those long and calloused fingers. satoru watches you and eventually becomes slightly calm by your actions.

you inched your lips into his fingers and kissed it delicately just like he used to do with you before. everything went blur to him and only the sound of your sweet nothing was audible into his messy world.

"i know you'll be doing great with or without me. so satoru, put more faith in yourself. this is another big step for us, and i want you to be ready just like i am." you swiftly slide the divorce paper in front of him. but this time, it has your signature on it.

satoru felt like he was being showered by the cold water as he stared at the paper with pure horror evident on his face. you finally did it, so there is no turning back now.

"h-how—when…! when did you sign it?" his voice cracked due to his frazzled emotions firing him repeatedly. satoru reaches the highest point of heartbreak he ever experienced in his life.

"when i gave you the tissue." you whispered weakly. to your dismay tears are only a slip away from your eyes a thousand times today.

"i don't want to sign it. i don't want to! i don't want to leave you anymore y/n!" he yelled. you accepted his lash out with open arms, but you can't do anything anymore. you finally signed the divorce settlement, and this paper wouldn't go if there's no signature of satoru.

you suddenly pull him into a passionate yet heartbroken kiss to shut him up. satoru eventually responds to your kiss, becoming more emotional than ever. while you are busy keeping him in company, you sneakily put the pen in his hand.

satoru felt an object in his palm, he knew you're telepathically telling him to sign the paper but he still refuses to acknowledge it, at least not yet. as he continues to devour your lips, his eyes are still producing salt tears that add more emotions in the atmosphere.

"i could see a bright future ahead of you, satoru." you muttered between the kisses.

"mhmp—you should grab it, please." you continued to deepen the kiss to lure him. but he voluntarily stepped away just to make a counter argument for that.

"but i could lose you if i do that." he whispers solemnly.

"we've already lost each other when we realized that everything was going too fast for both of us." you chuckled bitterly at your statement. "that it why it is time to face the consequences, by setting us free." you added.

"do…do you really want to do this?" he hiccups.

"this is what fate wants us to do." your voice is soothing as hell. it held no grudges nor resentment, just pure calm and adoration towards him.

but satoru still didn't bug and he still doesn't want to sign the papers.

your gaze never leaves him as satoru buries his face on his palm, weeping so quietly that you could almost hear a pin drop. it was getting so hard to watch so you looked away and slowly walked away.

"i am going out for a bit." you mumbled quietly, not waiting for him to reply or look as you walked away with your whole body shaking.

outside, there you saw higuruma leaning on his car exterior. "hey…" you greeted weakly. higuruma looked at you with a hint of sympathy in his eyes.

"hey…how did it go?" higuruma asked, his gaze falling on the papers in your hands.

"emotional." you joked.

"so, that's the end now?"

"...yep, that's the end now."

silence engulfed both of you, just your almost steady breathings and his observing orbs burning through your skin.

"never thought satoru could cry harder than he did when geto-san…you know." higuruma said, sighing as he tucks his hands on his pockets.

you nodded. "i know. satoru lost suguru literally, while he only lost me through relationship. he'd become more vulnerable around me, and that scares the hell out of me."

"i, his weakness, has become more exposed to his enemies. i know sooner or later, they would swoon to get me just to make him fall on his knees. we don't want that to happen, i don't want to be a bait nor a cause of his downfall. temporarily or permanently, satoru must not fall, no, not anymore." you continued.

"y/n-san, i hope you would also realize that failures, downfalls, mistakes, and damages are unavoidable, gojo-kun is no exception to all of that." higuruma argues.

"satoru is going to live a good life and have a future that he deserves, so who am i to halt it?” you ignored what he said because you know he was right.

“this is a big step for both of you. i just wished that everything would go well for the two of you.” higuruma smiled at you.

“we will, eventually.” you return the smile and then excuse yourself to go back inside, just to see satoru still crying nonstop.

approaching his figure, you wrapped your arms around his body to console the man. “don't go back to me now, satoru. if you cannot bring yourself to let go, then i will help you.” you whispered into his hair.

satoru pulled away just to look at you with his teary eyes. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’m really sorry.” he keeps on apologizing to you, while you just smile at him and wipe the tears in his eyes.

“it's alright, satoru. i already forgave you a long time ago.” you said.

“i can't sign it. i don't want to sign that anymore.” he confessed. a small form made its way to your temple” “but this is for both of us. don't you want to have a brand new start? how can we thrive when we both have shackles on our feet?”

“i-i thought everything was easy. i thought i could l-let you go that easily. but i was wrong. it's so hard to let go of us, y/n. and as much as i would like to do what i meant to do, it's just so hard to see us disappear from our now individual lives.” satoru buries his face on your stomach. your hands immediately made its way towards his hair as tears are threatening you once again.

“it's hard to let you go too, satoru. but it would be harder to see you suffer more when you're here with me.” it was getting late and satoru was still amidst the crisis, but you are determined to get him out of there.

“look at me, toru.” you cupped his cheeks and made him look at you. “you’ve still got a whole world to see. so don't you ever get worried about me because i’ll be more happy to see you free without any worries.

“go live a life that you weren't able to do when we were still kids. do what you always wanted to do.”

“and just so you know, i will always love you and you will always have a special place in my home.” you put his hand to your left chest where your heart lies. “here, satoru. you'll always be here.”

satoru pulled you into the tightest hug since it was literally the last and you wouldn't mind. reciprocating the hug, you finally smiled whole-heartedly and it even reached your eyes.

“whatever happens, i love you, y/n. i love you more than anything. i have loved you since the first time i saw you. and i will always love you even if this would be the last time i would see you.” throughout the six years that you two had been together, from boyfriend-girfriend relationship until to marriage—this was the very first time he declared his love to you with so much intensity.

your eyes nearly gave up on how long you've been trying to hold your tears. but you still swore that night that you'll never shed a tear unless satoru is out of the scene because you knew how much effect your crying causes him.

to hide your emotions, you pull him closer and share the last and passionate kiss as two persons who share the same surname are binded by the law. both of you could feel the emotions begin to overflow as things become more sensitive.

you were the first one to pull away as satoru was still crying. cradling his cheeks, you connected your foreheads together and said again, “let's not make higuruma wait any further.”

satoru knew it was time, time for him to finally sign the divorce paper that he's been planning for a month now.

he expected this one too just like you, so it shouldn't hurt, but why is his heart still aching? with a final stroke of his signature, satoru felt so empty. his soul feels like missing and something was taken away from him.

both have done it—a trial away and the marriage will no longer be valid. there would be no mr. and mrs. gojo now because both will live differently.

grabbing the paper with your shaky hands, you turn around at satoru and give him the final hug with a final kiss. “good luck on your new life, satoru. i’ll always cheer for you and support you until the end.”

“thank you so much, y/n. i really mean it.”

and with that, you and satoru shared the same sad smile you could utter at that moment. sure, this night will end bittersweet, but tomorrow is a brand new start.

you watched satoru walk solemnly towards the car. he looked like a ghost wandering around the vicinity without any will to search for the true paradise for him to rest. it really broke your heart that this is the end for both of you.

and with now fully signatured divorce paper on his hands, satoru felt that each step he took, he felt like fainting on the spot because of how devastating he felt.

but you cannot undo everything now. satoru had officially become your sweet memory and a stranger on the street at the same time. just as he was about to go inside the car, you called out for his name one last time.

your ex-husband looked at you with tired, red, and puffy eyes. you let yourself give the bestest smile you could offer at this moment. a smile entitled one last smile before saying a goodbye.

"if we found each other in another world, let me be your wife again!"

satoru's eyes glisten with tears once more. nevertheless, he also offers you the bestest smile he could manage. he is now letting his broken heart go out of your grasp. forcing himself to swallow and accept that in this lifetime, you are no longer his.

but if the two of you would be reborn or somewhere in the multiverse, he would pray that the two of you got the life you onced failed to build, and that was something he would wish for forever.

"of course! and i will choose you this time. we would make a family that we once dreamt of, and i will give you the honor to name our children." satoru yelled back, making your smile widen.

you could finally rest knowing that there would be a lifetime waiting for both of you somewhere in the future. and this time, you are not being delusional because you know it'll be going to happen and you'll make it happen.

"emi!"

"what?" satoru halted his steps to focus his attention on you.

"i want our first born daughter to be named emi." you've actually dreamed of having a child with him, in that dream, her name is emi. it was like a sign to you, so when you woke up, you immediately searched its meaning and found out that emi means blessed.

you are blessed.

both of you definitely feel blessed to have each other.

that being said, you have kept that name for a while now. sooner, you wished that name would be used with satoru's surname entangled to it.

because in this life, it was unfortunate not to use the name emi. you only want to use that name with him and only him. for you lived with him, loved him, and dreamed with him.

but patience is a virtue. you are willing to wait for that dream, for him. time is not a problem to you because you'd be fully patient just for him.

"have a safe journey, gojo satoru. i will be waiting for you in our next lives." you gently bow your head to send your wish for his safety.

with that, satoru enters the car without looking at you anymore. he was afraid that if he looked at you, he might find himself running back into your loving arms again.

"we'll be going now, y/n." higuruma rolled the window and waved a farewell to you.

you just nod at him while you watch the car slowly disappear from your eyesight. sad but true, you will be waking up all alone from now on 'till your thirties.

no more satoru to wake you up with cuddles. no more satoru who would make corny jokes randomly. no more satoru to who would always remind you that you have a husband. just no more satoru gojo—

drip…

a tear, followed by another, and another until it just flows uncontrollably. you are finally a crying-mess. you're letting yourself cry and let your emotions out by a shout of pain escaping out from your lips.

it was all over.

satoru chooses his life over you, and you choose satoru over your life. with your knees planted on the pavement, your hand travels towards your mouth to cover your loud painful sobs.

all of the tears that you had been keeping since this morning, finally had their freedom to flow at your cheeks along with anguish scream that came out of your broken heart.

you finally lost this time.

[a special chapter will be posted soon, so stay tuned and just comment if you want to be added on the taglist for this one — ©luvvixu2024]

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ best christmas ever ] q. hughes

day eight of malia’s christmas fic marathon

pairing : Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) gives fiancé Quinn what could be considered the best Christmas present he’s ever gotten

warning(s) : pregnancy, mentions of miscarriage

author’s note : i think this could be considered a blurb w how short it is tbh but here’s this cute lil thing :)

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Her hands shake as Quinn unwraps the present that is going to change his entire life. Keeping this a secret for nearly two weeks has been killing her so the fact that her fiancé is seconds away from finding out is exciting and terrifying at the same time.

It's the last present that is being unwrapped this morning while it's just the two of them in their Vancouver apartment. (Y/N) made sure it was the last present unwrapped by taking it out of the closet after all the gifts under the tree from friends and family were opened.

Quinn tosses the ripped up wrapping paper into the trash bag on the ground between them before he opens the box.

Inside is a little Canucks jersey with Quinn's number and 'C'. Quinn is clearly very confused by the tiny jersey so she says, "Turn it around, Quinn."

Laughter is evident in her voice but she doesn't know if it's because of Quinn's confusion or because she's nervous.

She watches his eyes widen when he sees the back of the jersey. In place of Hughes on the back of the jersey is the word "daddy". Quinn looks over at (Y/N) with those wide eyes. "You better not be lying to me, (Y/N)," he says so seriously.

"Eight weeks," she tells him as she rests a hand on the very tiny bump that is under the large t-shirt she's wearing. "I found out three weeks ago and went to make sure everything was okay two weeks ago. When I was told that everything with this baby was perfect, I got the jersey made."

After they lost their last little one over the summer very early on, she didn't want to get Quinn's hopes up again so she went and got every single test done that she could before she told him. The last thing she wanted was to tell him then lose another baby. It nearly broke her in June, and almost broke them.

She couldn't do that again. Not this time.

"You kept this from me for three weeks?" Quinn asks. His voice is soft so he isn't mad. She stays quiet and nods. "Is everything okay?"

(Y/N) slowly nods, still hesitant. "Baby H is growing and developing at the rate they're supposed to be this time," she assures him. "I'm healthy. Baby is healthy. I just needed to be sure before I told you this time. I know how much you want to be a dad and I didn't want to get your hopes up then my body let you down for the second time."

Tears that she didn't know formed in her eyes spill onto her cheeks. She does her best to wipe them away quickly, but he notices them.

Quinn puts the jersey back in the box and moves close to her. He pulls her into a tight hug and she buries her face into his shoulder.

"Your body just wasn't ready last time," Quinn softly tells her as he runs his fingers through her hair. "I love you. I'm so excited to be here with you for the rest of your pregnancy. You're already an amazing mom."

She lets out a silent sob into Quinn's shoulder before she pulls back. "You're not mad I didn't tell you when I found out?" she questions.

"Absolutely not," he assures her with a smile on his lips. She can see that he's genuine when he says that. "I'm happy to know now. I can't wait to go to every appointment with you now. I can't wait to see our baby when you have an ultrasound done. I can't wait to tell all our friends and family and my teammates. I can't wait to meet Baby H. (Y/N), I'm so excited."

His happiness quickly erases any anxiety she felt before he opened that box. She can tell how excited he is about the next chapter in their lives. "Glad I didn't ruin your Christmas by telling you," she jokes.

"Are you kidding?" Quinn says. "This is probably the best Christmas ever. We're going to have a baby. This is the best present I think I have ever gotten on Christmas. Knowing we're going to start the family we have always wanted together is the best present."

A smile finally forms on (Y/N)'s lips. "We're going to have a baby," she softly echoes. Quinn nods and matches her smile.

She launches herself at him, finally sharing the happiness that Quinn is feeling. He falls onto his back onto the carpeted floor and catches her in his arms. He laughs and wraps his arms around her waist. He stares up at his fiancée. "We get to finally be parents," he tells her. "Our rainbow baby."

"Our rainbow baby."

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MAIN MASTERLIST

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taglist : @dancerbailey3 @dasiysthings @axaslee

[lividstar]

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤTHE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ ㅤ Masterpost

៚ wc: ✍️

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ To hope for a miracle while standing still and not doing anything to initiate any form of change is just about as foolish as avoiding the gaze of your phone screen while waiting for an app to download thinking such an action would make the waiting process any shorter. Upon learning this portion of the reality of life, you decide to break free from the confines of your hometown and move to Paris in hopes of a new season of your life unfolding. What’s un(fortunate) is you weren’t expecting your designated miracle to come in the form of a fashion designer named Kim Hongjoong.

started: june 30, 2024 | finished: ongoing

Chapter One: A Change (wc: 9k)

🍂 Moving to Paris in order to leave your past in Arcadia Bay had been a long-term goal for a while now, and you were more than excited to finally have this dream of yours within your grasp. Of course, things won’t always turn out well consistently, and you had to be reminded of this in the worst way possible.

Chapter Two: Unexpected Encounters (wc: 8k)

🍂 You were now on your fifth job hunt for the week, and even though you were hoping for it to, for once, actually turn out to be a success, indifference spreads through you as the search concludes on a dead end once again. Just as you were about to head home, a sudden surprise catches up to you, nearly out of breath.

Chapter Three: Inspiration (wc: 4k)

🍂 The thought of entering the world of fashion and modeling seemed daunting, but you’d rather have your suffering come from getting perceived than not having at least a sufficient amount of money to make sure your last days won’t be spent in Paris. Looking through the stolen-but-not-really sketchbook in your possession for outfit inspiration, you’re caught in a state of shock when something you thought had finally left you behind suddenly came back to bite you. One question hung heavy in your mind: Why?

Chapter Four: A Pleasant Twist (wc: 5k)

🍂 What started as a plan for a quiet walk in the park quickly turned eventful when you bumped into Madame Dupont, who was heading out for groceries. Choosing to assist her instead, two occurrences you didn’t see coming saw the light of the day: A. Running into Seonghwa, and B. Receiving an offer from Madame Dupont to help with your upcoming casting.

Chapter Five: Consequences (wc: 8k)

🍂 During the high-stakes fashion casting, you impress the judges but are later alarmed to discover that the agency’s influential creative director is the owner of the sketchbook that not only did you accidentally take home, yet also used one of its designs as inspiration for your attire, leaving you fearful about the potential consequences for your budding career. As the weight of this realization sinks in, you can't help but worry how you would entangle the knots of the predicament you’re now under.

Chapter Six: A New Companion (wc: 5k)

🍂 The tension mounts as you anxiously await a message from the directors. A call from Seonghwa bringing you the not-so-good news of you passing the first round of the casting brings mixed emotions, and a walk in the park offers a brief escape from your spiraling worries. Returning home, you find comfort in the unexpected presence of Pompidou, Monsieur Frank’s mischievous feline. As the day of the callback arrives, the pressure intensifies, culminating in a nerve-wracking evaluation before Hongjoong and the casting panel.

Chapter Seven: Resolve (wc: 12.1k)

🍂 Seonghwa invites you to the serene local park where he delivers the exciting news that you’ve secured the modeling job, marking a significant step forward in your new life in Paris. However, as you bask in the joy of this achievement, a nagging concern about Hongjoong’s sketchbook lingers in your mind. By the time you get your first modeling gig, you form a plan to return it to him on the very same day, but the uncertainty of how he will react keeps you on edge. Could things possibly get any worse than they already are?

Chapter Eight: A Great Friend (wc: 11.5k)

🍂 Your day immediately turns eventful at the very second you open your eyes, receiving a congratulatory message from Hongjoong which was apparently because of your sudden popularity that skyrocketed overnight, following your first photoshoot. As you grapple with this sudden surge of attention, Seonghwa offers a welcome distraction by suggesting you assist Hongjoong with his designs for the upcoming autumn collection, all of which are still in progress.

Chapter Nine: May I Have This Dance? (wc: 10.3k)

🍂 The initial plan was to stay the night in Hongjoong’s art studio to finish one of his designs, but as one thread tangled itself into another and kept the chain going, a series of unexpectedly charming experiences began to unfold, one of which contains running an errand to buy flowers for Madame Dupont’s vases—the very event that led to you and Hongjoong enjoying a little sophisticated dancing session while moving to the soft melody of La Vie En Rose.

Chapter Ten: Push and Pull (wc: 4.6k)

🍂 The memory of what happened—or what had almost happened last night, still remained fresh in your mind. As a result, you find yourself on edge as you head to Hongjoong’s agency per Seonghwa’s request, still processing the events that had unfurled. Upon arrival, you notice Hongjoong acting distant, leaving you uneasy. Seonghwa, sensing your discomfort, tries to lighten the mood and catch up, but the tension lingers in your mind as you try to make sense of Hongjoong's sudden change in behavior.

Chapter Eleven: You Wonder why I’m Bitter (wc: 8.2k)

🍂 Alone and aching for the connection that once felt so natural, you reluctantly turn to an unlikely companion: Pompidou, who listens to you pour out all the longing you’ve fought so hard to bury. While you grapple with the emptiness left by Hongjoong’s sudden withdrawal, he, too, finds himself lost, wrestling with the very feelings he’s tried to deny. Haunted by memories and choices he can’t quite reconcile, Hongjoong is caught between the familiarity of the past and the confusing reality of the present.

🪞 — lividstar.

[dropthedemiurge]

Love for Love's Sake: Bоnus Stаge (spoilers!!)

Love For Love's Sake (Love Supremacy Zone): bonus stagе is a short spin-off story from the author of the original novel, released in June 2024 (after the drama series). It's about 19yo Tae Myungha (from Game World) being transferred into the future and him slowly realizing how 29yo Myungha has been living happy 10 years with Cha Yeowoon and friends.

I promised to keep talking about it and thank you, guys, for enabling me xD Before translating bits from chapters, here's the full summary of everything that happened in this story – for those of you who are not that patient and don't fear spoilers :] I'll put them under more anyway so those who don't want to read the summary won't read them accidentally!

Warnings: suicidal intentions

Let me know your thoughts about this spinoff *д*

Love for Love's Sake: Bonus Stage (summary)

"If your life was a book, what would you want it be about?" "How would the first chapter begin and what sentence would be the last one?" "I wish it was about love."

19yo Myungha (so before canon timeline) is playing games in PC cafe. He doesn't really have money but wants to spend time so he wouldn't have to live it

On the crossroad, he sees a child running before the signal changes, and he jumps to save them but instead of getting hit, he feels like falling. He sees sunbae who pushes him. Message [World has been changed] appears.

Myungha finds himself in the arms of a handsome man who knows him - but he doesn't know this man. Myungha runs away but the man is faster.

[Mission: Make Tae Myungha happy.] [Reward: Memory] [Clear until (0%) ♥♥♥♥♥] [Penalty: Can't return to the original timeline]

Myungha is diagnosed with amnesia. He should be 29yo now, so he just goes along. Yeowoon decides to start over again and introduces himself.

Yeowoon and Myungha have been living together for 6 years and dating for 10 years. 19-Myungha is shocked to know this.

Ahn Sia, Kyunghoon and Sangwon immediately run to check whether Myungha is okay, 19-Myungha is shocked that people worry about him and they've been friends for 10 years.

Yeowoon asked if Myungha would hypothetically date him - just to make sure - but he still wouldn't let Sangwon in before others come (he's sooo jealous)

Sangwon finds younger Myungha a lot of fun, Yeowoon wants to fight with him. Others come, so they try to figure out what's happening.

29yo Myungha is a teacher respected by kids. The girl in his class wanted to kill herself so she went to the rooftop, Myungha ran after her but ended up falling down, and Yeowoon caught him (19-Myungha)

Sia is a shopping mall CEO and a popular influencer now, Kyunghoon does photography/filming professionally, Sangwon introduces himself as 'the one who Myungha rejected when he was 18yo'.

Everyone wants to have chicken and beer but 19-Myungha is a minor so they have chicken and cola and a group sleepover at Myungha/Yeowoon's house :]

Yeowoon tried to sleep with Myungha in one bed but eventually ran away to the living room, flustered.

They all decide to do a trip down the memory lane, since Myungha is "having amnesia".

Yeowoon is a gold medalist now, and many kids go to Shinyeop school now because he made it prestigious.

They visit old Yeowoon's house, and Yeowoon quietly tells him they had kissed here for the first time (on the stairs) 19-Myungha is flustered because he feels feelings that he doesn't know the source of. But he never had his first kiss, never thought about ideal type or love so he's can't stop thinking about it. He tried to take Yeowoon's hand but ran out of time.

After this trip, in the car Myungha clears 20% of his mission and sees flashbacks from the 10 passed years: how they were grilling meat at the rooftop, how they played at the sea.

Yeowoon went to the store to get ice cream, while Myungha and Sangwon were left alone waiting. Sangwon told 19-Myungha about precious memories with him (dogs!), how he was his first love and he kept regretting what if he made a different first impression on Myungha – and now he can.

So he asks for one more chance to start over but gets rejected because Yeowoon was faster once again. Sangwon accepts that his first love is finally over and walks away.

Yeowoon says he likes Myungha more anyway, but 19-Myungha doesn't know it so Yeowoon says he'll teach him. They go to amusement park (closed again) by the sea.

Myungha insists on going to the popular cafe, Yeowoon is hesitant but doesn't reveal the truth until Myungha meets his mom there. Yeowoon takes him away in a hurry as 19-Myungha wants to talk to her in anger. Myungha cries. He thinks if he didn't have Yeowoon next to him now, his mom's reaction would be his last straw.

Mission is cleared to 40%. 19-Myungha sees 18yo Yeowoon crying and being comforted by "him".

19-Myungha thinks the person Yeowoon fell in love with is nothing like him, so he runs away. Yeowoon catches up with him.

Suddenly, they meet his fans. 19-Myungha is confused to learn he's quite popular and has 100k followers on his YT channel where he's been posting vlogs for 10 years (Yeowoon made him do it). He's used to being widely hated as a Crazy Dog, and not widely loved.

19-Myungha doesn't want to restore memories because he doesn't want to return to his original timeline. But he also feels acutely that 29-Myungha is a very different person from him. So he openly tells Yeowoon about the game mission, and Yeowoon believes him.

They return home, and 19-Myungha notices that Yeowoon still cherishes him like they were new lovers and not 10yo couple that usually feels like a family. Yeowoon was testing his reaction to skinship. Myungha calls him to sleep and teases him for having dirty thoughts.

19-Myungha is scared to sleep because he fears to wake up from a good dream. Yeowoon comforts him, while Myungha teases again and asks whether he's going to kiss. Yeowoon responds he'll wait until Myungha does it himself, like the first time (I guess, it's a bit different from drama?)

In the morning, Myungha learns that his grandma is still alive in this timeline and is in the hospital with injured leg. He rushes there and cries a little seeing her alive. He pleads her to come live with them but the grandma is like 'wtf this kid gone insane'.

His memories are cleared until 60% and he remembers time spent with his grandma.

19-Myungha watches videos on "his" Youtube channel and he sees what kind of life 29-Myungha lived and what kind of person he was. He finds they weren't actually that different and he could become him. He sees how liked he was and what kind of person younger Yeowoon was too.

They go to get groceries, and suddenly 19-Myungha is surrounded by kids that claim he's their homeroom teacher. Yeowoon saves him from awkwardness, it seems like they don't know Yeowoon and Myungha are dating. The kids say that their entire class will always love their teacher Myungha, and 19-Myungha understands why he chose this job.

Mission is cleared until 80%. He sees flashbacks from teaching kids, he still keeps in touch with the ones that left. 19-Myungha starts to smile.

But he still doesn't want to go home, he's also scared that original Myungha comes back and he will disappear. He doesn't want to leave.

Yeowoon tells him he'll be waiting for him even if he goes back to his time. He tells him to return and find 18yo Yeowoon, because he exists there and he will definitely like and choose Myungha.

Myungha is overwhelmed with feelings and goes to kiss Yeowoon. This time he's the inexperienced one.

The timeline written down by Myungha: "First meeting at 19, first fight at 20, living together at 23, passing teacher's exam, Yeowoon breaking the world record, Myungha becoming homeroom teacher, having 5 anniversary trip".

Last 20% are still missing. He's waiting for Yeowoon to come home, he returns with the cake and flowers. It's their 10th anniversary today, so Yeowoon insists he still has to celebrate, despite the situation. Myungha feels bad that he always forgets about anniversaries.

Yeowoon proposes to Myungha. He gives him his wedding plan and prepared funds.

Myungha laughs (while Yeowoon is annoyed :D) and gets positive buff, as he falls in love. [Mission is cleared until 99.9%]. He witnesses more happy flashbacks.

Because it's legally difficult, Yeowoon still wants to get married. Myungha tells him if he proposes again in 10 years, he'll accept. And teases him for being in such a rush to speedrun the relationship.

He remembers all memories from 10 years of their life and love together, he tells Yeowoon 'of course' and finally decides to return home and meet Yeowoon in his own timeline.

But Myungha is scared because there's still 0.1% to fail. He remembers the sunbae who pushed him before the world has changed. He wonders who that was.

He sees himself talking with sunbae, who asks him what is happy life to Myungha and if his life was a book, what would it be about.

"If your life was a book, what would you want it be about?" Someone is asking next to me. "...love. I wish it was about love." I wished that this thing, which was so common that I could hear about it everywhere but have never really felt it, could exist in my life too. The sunbae smiled quietly. "I just decided on a title".

Sunbae tells Myungha that humans are made of stars and apologizes that he was so late. He asks him to live the way he wants to.

He pushes him again. Message [The world has been changed] appears.

29yo Myungha wakes up next to Yeowoon and immediately goes to hug him. He finally feels like his soul and body are perfectly aligned, and he remembers how lonely he was when he was 19.

He tells Yeowoon they'll go see stars on their honeymoon trip. But first, they want to take a trip to Taiwan and the grandma is bitter they're not taking her with them because she's convinced they're gonna secretly get married there. But Myungha and Yeowoon want to get married in Korea.

[Mission: Make Tae Myungha happy is completed with 100%]

29-Myungha goes to meet the girl in his class who he saved on the rooftop. They both talk about how they don't want to die anymore and they should never give up. The girl also says Yeowoon suits him well, and Myungha promises to invite her to their wedding.

[END OF THE GAME.]

[LOADING]

19yo Myungha gets back to his conscience on the street, as someone asks him if he's okay. He is surprised to see Yeowoon, while Yeowoon is displeased that Myungha knows his name since they never met before.

Yeowoon walks away, but Myungha starts running after him.

[ENTERING THE LOVE SUPREMACY ZONE]

That's it 🥺 Of course, there are many amazing and touching moments in the story itself but I wrote down the main points. Aren't they precious?!

Tag list: @pickletrip @bunni-bun @illuminutiae @kaleidoskuls @delesaria-blog @maybe-boys-do-love

[thekombuchagirl]

CODE ZERO

Summary: It was an ordinary humid sunday of June until it wasn't. Of all things you expected to happen in the summer of '25, preventing the spread of another epidemic wasn't one. Locked in the pantry of a cafe with a masked stranger, all you could hear outside were animalistic groans and the occasional crackle of breaking bones. Just when you thought that the last moments of your life would be sitting across an intimidatingly hot man, a table flips, literally.

Pairing: discharged soldier!yoongi x fem journalist!reader

what to expect? gore, zombies, banter in the face of death, explicit language, yoongi walks around in a tank with a manbun for a whole day, reader develops a liking for smashing skulls halfway through the story, sexual tension that can be cut with a knife and eventual smut

Age rating: 18+ mdni!

Tags: @ktownshizzle @mysteriousgeminizone

chapter warnings: gore, graphic description of violence, mentions of death, cursing

a/n: hello! thank you so much for reading my story and if you can take a minute to drop your valuable feedback that would be even more amazing!

C H A P T E R O N E

"No network, nothing at all. Can you check yours once again please?"

You looked expectantly at the man sitting by the door. His mask was now hanging on his chin and it had been irking you for a while. Why wear a mask at all if it is not actually masking anything? But you let it be since he was the one who saved you from whatever was happening outside and he looked awfully familiar. The more you looked at him the more familiar he looked but you couldn't put a finger on where exactly you knew him from. He didn't seem to think the same for you, however.

"For the seventh time in the last ten minutes, no. There is no network. Not in yours. Not in mine. Because it has been shut down."

He spoke in small sentences, pronouncing each word like he was speaking to a child. It only annoyed you further. You weren't asking to play games on his phone or something. You were asking because there was something out there that was making people rip each other's skin like paper and bite off their flesh. It was probably the end of the world and the man in front of you was unbothered and even annoyed at your very obvious concern.

"How do you plan to get out of here then? We can't call for emergency services-"

"Out of here? Emergency service? Woah," he slid up against the door, dusting his arse and for the first time since you encountered him, broke into a fit of laughter. "Do you think the government people will come to save you with those things out there? The ministers are probably out of the country by now and the town is under lockdown. The end of the world shit is only for the ordinary folks. For people like us. When the world ends for us, it is just renovation for them."

The nonchalance was gone instead his dark eyes were suddenly filled with fury. You hated to admit it to yourself but he was right. The government was going to do no good any time soon and you knew it, more than anyone else. But you didn't like his tone. You didn't like how he was talking down to you from the beginning for no reason. All the points that he won for saving you were exhausted. So it didn't take you a lot of effort to match his tone.

"So what? We just sit here waiting for those things to break in eventually and then what?"

He stared at you wordlessly. When his nonchalance had dropped, that was the first second of satisfaction for you. Now that he was staring at you silently, you felt that satisfaction grow in you. It made no sense for you to be that petty in that situation but then again, too much was happening in too little time.

"What? Nothing to say any-"

"Don't move."

Your blood ran cold. You could see it now. His eyes weren't on you, they were focused on something behind you. The skin on your back tingled and your vision blurred. You could hear a soft thud and then a scratch, as if someone was dragging their feet. It was coming closer and closer. Before long, you finally heard it. A growl.

Through your blurred vision, you could only see the man in front of you. His pale skin was blindingly bright now that there was light flooding in from the back. Why didn't you check for a door at the back? Why did you let your guards down? You could see his dark brown orbs flit back and forth between you and the thing behind you. For a moment, you wished he would save you again. But why would he when he could push you off as bait and take his chance of escape?

You closed your eyes. You could feel your knees slowly give away as your childhood, your teenage and your years working as an investigative journalist flash before your eyes. Your colleagues had always despised you because you'd somehow manage to avoid the risky cases, ones where you could come close to the face of death. They would probably be glad to know how you went. But there was so much left to be done. It felt too soon. You were leaving too soon.

A snarl and then a choked out growl rumbled in the air behind you. This was it. You took one deep breath. This was it. You exhaled.

That's when a table flipped. Literally.

You heard the crash before you opened your eyes to see it. A broken table that had been lying useless beside the door was now on top of the... thing and by it stood the man. Eyes on the thrashing creature at his foot. It couldn't remove the heavy table from itself. It didn't have hands. There was nothing below its elbows and a dark liquid was dripping from the open joints.

You didn't even realise you were on the floor until the man was pulling you on to your feet, his lips moving. He was talking to you. But all you could hear was a sharp whistle and then buzzing. You could only stare at him, a stranger who saved you once again when he had no need to. Even as he dragged you towards the back of the pantry, you just stared at him. You didn't know how he could tell but just by the open back door, he turned to you and held you by your shoulders and shook you.

"Put it together. We have to leave. I need you in your complete consciousness if we have to leave here alive."

Then it all hit you. The wailing creature below the heavy table was growling at the top of its voice and the other side of the pantry door was about to give away as the thudding of multiple bodies hitting against it, made it creak and shake.

"Are you listening? We have to-"

"Let's go," you nodded at him. If life had given you another chance, you must make the most of it.

"Can you run well?"

"Women run the world."

"Let's fucking go, then."

Your watch was broken. Just your luck. You had no idea how long the both of you ran through the deserted streets. The street lights were off and the houses along the streets felt like they were part of an abandoned civilisation that died away long ago. Abandoned cars and motorcycles left with traces of a darkened fluid that you could only assume was blood. Everywhere you could only see blood. It was making your whole body ache, your feet weighing heavier and heavier as you realised that it was really happening.

You were running so fast that it only occurred to you how far you had come when you noticed the man slowing down as the police station came into sight. On the street before the station, there were two cars that appeared to have been in an accident. You stepped forward towards the station only to be pulled back by the man once again.

"There," he pointed to the entrance of the station but you could barely see anything in the dark. As you squinted to see, your eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness and inside, you could see shadows moving. A shiver ran down your spine. There was no way they were uninfected. A sense of hopelessness washed over your body.

You turned to the man beside you, "where should we go? The hotel that I was staying in is on the other side of the city. We can't reach there on foot."

He nodded at that, "Yeah. Seaside is too far so our best bet would be to take a car."

You looked around the street and the abandoned cars standing around, "one of these?"

"Ideally, yes. But we need to make sure that it has enough fuel. We can't afford to stop at any gas stations once we start."

You walked towards one of the cars with the driver side door left open. It was exceptionally clean. No bloodstains on the windshield or on the seats. You leaned in to check for the key but couldn't find it around. A sparkle of something by the gear caught your eye so you bent over to check it out.

"A stupid candy," you murmured under your breath as you took your upper body out of the car only to come face to face with the man, who was leaning by the side of the door.

"Keep it," he nodded at you, eyes fixated on you like they were back at the pantry of the cafe. He was standing close. So close that if you took another step, your noses would bump into each other. Up close, he felt more familiar than ever. You were sure you had met him before so you couldn't resist asking.

"Have we met be-"

You didn't even know you had it in you to move that fast. One moment you were looking at him and the next you were pulling him back and behind you. From behind the car appeared something that you could never even have seen in your nightmare. It was a man or at least it used to be a man. His mouth hung open, lips split on the side abnormally. It was as if he had ripped his mouth open to take a massive bite of something. With his one eye open, he was dragging himself to the side of the car where you stood and from the other, a pen was sticking out through his split eyeball. As his full body came to view, a huge chunk of his shoulder was missing and the white of the bones was dripping with dark red.

"Holy shit- fuck. Fuck. Fuck," you stumbled backwards with the man right behind you. "We need to run. Run. Run. Fucking hell, just run."

"We won't be able to make it on foot. Look," he pointed towards the police station out of which more of those things were coming out like flies. So many. Of course. If the station was as packed as you had seen it when you were on your way to the cafe, then there had to be hundreds of those in there.

"Motherfuck-"

"Come on," he pulled you backwards by your arm. By then the night sky was filled with growls and snarls as those things started coming out of every house, every corner.

A horde of those things were emerging out of all those abandoned houses that you had crossed and you spluttered in disbelief as he dragged you right towards them.

"What the fucking fuck. No. Are you suicidal you maniac? Why are we going towards them? No. I am not-"

Instead of replying he just tugged on your arm harder, now sprinting towards the horde. You could only turn your head back for a split second but that was enough for you. You were doomed and surrounded. The man dragging you was relentless. As the distance between the horde and you two decreased and decreased, from inside you a strange sensation bubbled out. You didn't have it in you to reform your subconscious so you let it surface and it came out as laughter. As the man dragged you ahead, you laughed your heart out.

He looked back at you for a second with furrowed eyebrows and when he saw you laughing so much that your eyes were tearing up, he couldn't help but comment, "what a fucking psycho-"

At that moment, as the two of you reached so close to the horde that their extended arms were about to touch your skin, he left your side.

Horrified you turn to your side to curse him out for betraying you at the end, only to find him on top of a motorcycle that somehow had the key in it. He looked at you, with the subtlest smirk, ushering you on.

"What the fuck."

You got on just in time and off you went straight towards the other side. The horde that had emerged out of the police station was more scattered because they seemed confused at the quick direction changes. As the motorcycle breezed past the infected with zig zags that would have normally made you insanely mad, you let out a sigh. The road ahead was clear. You were saved. Again.

The entire city seemed to be under a powercut as you went through the blocks. The wind crashing against your face made your eyes flutter close. You didn't realise how exhausted you were. But even in that exhaustion, you couldn't help but be grateful to the man who had once again saved you. His hair fell in soft waves till almost his shoulders. You couldn't contain the sudden rush of emotions that ran through your body. In the span of a day, everything turned upside down.

In the exhaustion washing over your senses, you found it easy to be grateful. So you leaned in closer to the man, your chin nearly resting on his shoulder as you finally asked what you should have asked hours ago.

"What's your name?"

The wind cut through your voice making your question sound barely coherent. He confirmed your thoughts when he turned his head to the side, "Huh?"

"Your name. What's your name?"

You asked louder this time. His shoulders shook as if he was chuckling. Soon enough you could hear him again, his voice laced with humour, "Finally cared to ask?"

"Just say it. You're annoying enough," you made sure your tone was fussy enough but you couldn't help the smile that was tugging on your lips.

"Yoongi. Min Yoongi."

You nodded. Not that he could see you.

"Now, hold on tight," what he said next immediately made your smile drop.

How on earth did he know your name?

[daydreamtofiction]

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 20: Resurrection

Contents | Part 19 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Ben x Female Reader) THE FINAL CHAPTER IS UPON US. I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all. I'm going to sleep now.

Word Count: 7.1K

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, adult & sexual themes. Readers must be 18+

You stirred gently from sleep, eyes closed as you drifted between the realms of reality and slumber. Echoes of the countryside seeped in through the open window like a soundscape, tranquil and idyllic; birdsong, wildlife, nature, rain-

Rain? 

Your eyes shot open, the remnants of your sleepy haze immediately falling away as you scrambled out of bed and hurried to the window. You pulled back the thick curtains, looking out over the vast landscape of the stately home, the plush, well kept grass and winding gravel paths, the fields in the distance that stretched along the skyline, as though nothing existed beyond it. 

The blue summer sky was blanketed in clouds, showering the earth in a rain so fine you could only see it in the ripple on the surface of a nearby pond. You gave a dejected sigh, walking around the bed to grab your phone off the nightstand. 

"Shit," you hissed as you noticed the time, the alarm you must have sent to snooze in your sleep.

You rushed out of your room in your t-shirt and pyjama shorts, making your way across the large landing towards the sound of voices and laughter, the smell of food and perfume. You tapped your knuckles on a door decorated with flowers and pushed it open, stepping into the room with an awkward grimace, an apology ready on your tongue. 

The spacious suite was buzzing with excitement, women with their hair in rollers, champagne flutes in their hands. They were all wearing matching silk robes; pale blue, 'bridesmaid' embroidered in white thread across the breast. You spotted Camilla from across the room, the only one in white, sitting with her back to you as a stylist blowdried her hair.

It felt like a bad teen movie; the moment the awkward new girl stepped into the high school cafeteria, looking over at the popular girls' table as she stood alone with her tray. They'd all known each other forever; the maid-of-honour her twin sister, the other four old friends. They were probably wondering why she'd asked you to be a bridesmaid at all, why you got to be part of the day they'd been waiting for since they were kids. 

"Oh, here she is!" One of the women shouted, jumping up from a couch in the middle of the room and rushing over to you. 

Camilla turned her head, smiling when she laid eyes on you and giving an excited wave. "You okay!?" she shouted over the sound of the hairdryer. 

You nodded, mouthing 'sorry' at her from across the room and pointing at your phone. 'Alarm didn't...'

She waved her hand at you, as if telling you not to worry. 

The woman approaching you was called Lottie, her freckled face gleaming with a grin as she handed you a robe. You took it and shrugged it on, looking down at the same 'bridesmaid' label embroidered into the pale blue silk. 

"Come and get some breakfast," she said, pointing to the coffee table between two couches, an elaborate spread laid across it. 

You picked at the food, putting a few pieces of fruit and croissant on a small plate and sitting down with the other women. 

"I'm so sorry I slept in," you said. 

"Oh don't worry about it," said Camilla's sister Alice. "You haven't missed anything. And Georgia's still asleep so you're not actually the latest." 

You laughed, biting into your croissant and relaxing back slightly into the couch. "I can't believe it's raining," you said, gesturing to the window on the other side of the room. "Especially with how warm June's been this year. I hope it stops before the ceremony." 

"Femi was just saying rain on your wedding day is supposed to be good luck," said Lottie.

The woman beside you nodded, her thick, dark hair sitting in a cluster of rollers on top of her head. "It is. They say it's supposed to wash away all the bad memories." 

"Hm." You nodded. "Well I hope it pours down then." 

They all laughed, and you allowed a smile, almost feeling bad for expecting coldness from them. They'd never been anything but kind; every dress fitting and group chat conversation filled with positivity and excitement, even the hen night had been surprisingly fun. Yet still, there was something inside you that made you doubt yourself, like you didn't belong amongst them.

Music played and the morning flowed as freely as the champagne. People rotated between the makeup artist and hair stylist, picking at the food and taking breaks in-between to dance and pose for pictures. You sat in the makeup chair as the woman swirled a brush over your eyelid, pinning your brow up with her thumb after you failed to stop blinking. 

You felt a tap on your shoulder, glancing up to see Camilla at your side.

"I know you don't like champagne so I got them to bring you a mojito," she said, handing you a tall glass, a sprig of mint floating over the ice. 

"Oh, wow, thank you. You didn't have to-" The makeup artist turned your face back towards her.  

Camilla laughed, patting you on the arm before walking away. 

You took a sip as the artist turned to dip her brush in another eyeshadow, quickly putting it down when she returned to you. You peered at yourself in the mirror through one eye, liking what you saw; glowing skin and romantically blushed cheeks, fluffy brows and the beginnings of a soft, dreamy eye. You found yourself thinking about your own wedding, the kind of makeup you'd have, the dress you'd wear, the colours you might choose. You could picture the guests, the bridesmaids, the church. But the groom didn't seem to have a face. No matter how hard you tried to imagine him waiting for you at the altar, you just couldn't make him out.

You were the last one to sit in the hair stylist's chair, nursing your cocktail as she ran a bristly round brush through your hair, spraying you with mists and pinning it up in sections while you watched the other women slip into their dresses. 

At every fitting, Camilla had been very specific about what she wanted your dresses to look like. They were beautiful; layers upon layers of delicate tulle that flowed to the ground like water, sleeves that draped off the shoulders and dozens of intricate flower appliqués. If it weren't for the soft blue colour, they could have been mistaken for wedding gowns. 

You watched as each woman was zipped and buttoned into her dress, the material gliding across the ground as they walked and twirled. And when your hair was finished, you put on your own, holding it tight to your chest as Femi fastened the back. You turned to looked at yourself in the mirror; the makeup, the hair and the most magnificent dress you had no idea how to walk in without tripping over it. You felt beautiful. You looked beautiful. You all did. 

You stood in the room waiting to go, clutching your bouquet in front of you, your thumb fiddling with the twine keeping it all together. Clusters of periwinkles, cornflowers, lavender and lilacs were peppered with baby's-breath and eucalyptus. You brought it to your nose, the sleepy perfume calming you down as you shifted your weight from side to side in your heels. 

The door opened and Camilla stepped into the room, eliciting a collective gasp from the bridal party, even you. Her jet black hair was slicked into a low bun, a veil cascading from it like a waterfall to the ground. Her dress was a pearly white; high neck and long sleeves, the beading catching in the sunlight that shone through the window. The train was long enough to rival royalty, her mother and father carrying it into the room behind her. 

The photographer was snapping pictures, moving around to catch each of the bridesmaids reactions. You glanced around to see them all carefully dabbing away tears, wondering if you were supposed to be crying too. You lifted a finger to your eye as he took your photo, not wanting to seem like the odd one out when they looked back over the album. 

"Right," said Camilla. "Let's go get married." 

It was two bridesmaids to a car; the dresses so big that you had to be packed and folded into the back seats like the stuffing of a pillow. You'd been put with Esther; the most laid back of the group, her soothing voice and charming laugh making the entire ordeal a little less mortifying. When the driver finally closed her door, she blew a loose strand of hair out of her face, turning to you and smirking. 

"Logistically, they should've just stuck us all in the back of a van," she said. 

You giggled. "Yeah, or one of those things they transport horses in." 

"Can you imagine," she laughed. 

The engine rumbled to life and you began to move, following in a long line of classic cars decorated with flowers. You returned to fiddling with the twine on your bouquet, breathing slow to loosen the knots forming in your stomach. You tried to focus on the view from your window as you travelled out of the countryside and into the small town, people stopping to look as you all drove past, the pretty views and brightening sky. You hadn't been back there in two months, and it was hard to look at the cobbled roads, thatched roofs and kitschy village shops without thinking of him, without knowing you were just a car ride away from facing him again. 

"Are you okay?" asked Esther.

"Hm?" You turned to look at her. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." 

"Are you sure? You seem more nervous than Cam, and she's the bride." 

You breathed out a weak laugh. "No, I'm fine, really. Just... churches, y'know. They make me uneasy." 

"Ah." She nodded, smoothing down a piece of her dress that had puffed up between you. "Well don't worry about that. If I can walk into a church then you definitely can." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I'm a trans woman, about to walk into a Catholic Church and stand in front of a priest who probably thinks I don't deserve to exist." 

"This one won't think that," you said. "He won't."

"How do you know? Have you met him?" 

"I have. And he's one of the good ones, I promise." 

She eyed you for a moment before smiling. "Well then you've got nothing to worry about either, have you." 

She reached over and squeezed your hand, holding it supportively for the rest of the journey. You felt bad, like you'd lied to her, taken her legitimate fear and used it to hide your own sordid truth. You'd tried to move on again, to get back to where you were before the day you found him in this town. But something was missing now, as though you'd left a piece of yourself behind, or maybe he'd taken it, and now nothing fit together right. 

The cars rolled to a stop outside the church. You could see the other bridesmaids gathering at the gates, their dresses fluttering together in a cloud of powder blue. The driver opened Esther's door first, taking her hand to help her out. And for a handful of seconds you were alone in the backseat, with nothing but the sound of your own breath, your nails raking over a fray in the twine you'd been fiddling with until it broke. 

"Oh, fuck sake," you whispered as the arrangement fell apart in your lap, stems and flowers and greenery sitting in the trough of your dress. 

You gathered it all back together frantically as your door opened, clutching it in your fist as you climbed out into the warm June breeze. Esther smiled at you, gesturing for you to come with her to join the others, then she looked down at the flowers in your hand, the piece of string in the other. 

"My god, you really are bricking it aren't you," she laughed, helping you tie it all back together. 

When you got to the other bridesmaids, your eyes darted across all of their bouquets, then down to yours. It looked like shit; too much green on one side, a clump of baby's-breath on the other, a broken stem of lavender hanging limply over your knuckles. You snapped it off and threw it to the ground behind you before anyone noticed. 

The bridal car pulled up and you watched as Camilla and her father climbed out, their smiles warmer than the summer air. You couldn't help but smile too, wondering if your own father would smile like that. He would. Though, he'd probably complain about having to wear a suit first.

You stared up at the church as you made your way towards it, blowing out slow, shaking breaths through pursed lips. 

"It's not about you, Ellis," you muttered to yourself. "This isn't about you." 

You felt an arm link yours, turning to see Esther at your side. She was looking straight ahead, pressing her lips together nervously, and you couldn't help but wonder if the arm she'd given was for your benefit or her's. 

The familiar musky aroma hit you as you walked into the church. You pushed your nose into your lopsided flowers, breathing in their scent instead, wishing you could tuck yourself away inside the petals like Thumbelina until it was all over. 

The organiser shifted you around, peeling you from Esther's side to arrange you in a line. You breathed a sigh of relief to find yourself somewhere in the middle, kicking the bottom of your dress out to stop it getting caught under your feet. Short steps, that's what the dressmaker had said. Little shuffles, a small kick if you feel it catching on your shoes. You were going to fall over. You just knew it. 

Music began to play in the chapel and the hum of chit chat fell silent. You took a deep breath, glancing over your shoulder to give Esther a reassuring smile, before turning back and staring down at the ground, waiting for your turn to walk. 

Lottie went first. Then Georgia, then Femi, then it was you. You turned the corner and stepped through the open chapel doors, taking the fastest small steps you possibly could, wishing you'd convinced Rav to choose the church with the tiny aisle instead. Heads were turned, women in large hats and extravagant fascinators, men with corsages on their lapels and children with wide eyes, all watching you with smiles as you made your way towards the altar. You kept your eyes on Femi in front, watching the way her dress moved so gracefully across the floor, hoping yours somehow looked the same. 

You finally raised your head when you reached the front, your eyes meeting Father Benedict's almost immediately. He was smiling softly, a crisp white stole draped around his neck. You notice his throat bob with a swallow, a glisten along the waterlines of his eyes. You could have cried. But then you looked at Rav, and you couldn't help but break into a smile. He was beaming, chest puffed, shifting on his feet with excited energy as he waited for his bride. He winked at you and you scrunched your nose happily before stepping aside to stand with the other bridesmaids. Esther followed behind you, then Alice. 

Father Benedict raised his hands and the music changed. There was a collective shuffle as everyone in the pews rose to their feet, turning to see Camilla enter the chapel, a bouquet in one hand, her father's fingers firmly clutched in the other. They walked together to the sweet sound of strings, her dress and veil trailing elegantly behind her. She kept her eyes on Rav the entire time, smiling, blushing, and you felt a selfish sense of pride wash over you. You'd introduced them. You'd known how perfect they would be for each other before they'd ever even met. And now here they were, just a year later, declaring their love in front of you all. 

"Hello everyone," said Father Benedict. "We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Raviraj and Camilla. Let us call upon God to be with us today as we celebrate this union. In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Peace be with you."  "And also with you," you said quietly, your voice lost amongst the collective.

"Let us pray."

You sat down as he began the prayer. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to savour his voice, just for a moment. 

You wondered if he realised he was looking at you. Those striking blue eyes glancing over every few moments as he gave his first few readings, almost as though he was checking you were still there, making sure you hadn't been a figment of his imagination. You listened to him speak carefully; this was what he'd chosen, to share the word of his God, and he was good at it. 

"Raviraj and Camilla, you have come together today so that the Lord may seal and strengthen your love in the presence of your family and friends," he said. "And in doing so, you will be strengthened to keep mutual and lasting faith with each other as you carry out the duties of marriage. And so, in the presence of the church and of your family and friends, I ask you to state your intentions."

Rav and Camilla exchanged a glance and a nervous laugh. You smiled. 

"Raviraj and Camilla, have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?" 

"I have," they both said. 

"Raviraj, are you resolved to take Camilla to be your wife: to love her, comfort her, honour and protect her, and forsaking all others, to be faithful to her for as long as you both shall live?" 

"I am," said Rav, pressing his lips together to hold back an excited grin. 

"Camilla, are you resolved to take Raviraj to be your husband: to love him, comfort him, honour and protect him, and forsaking all others, to be faithful to him for as long as you both shall live?"

"I am," said Camilla. 

"And are you, Raviraj Mishra free lawfully to marry Camilla Anne Bowen?" 

"I am." 

"Are you, Camilla Anne Bowen free lawfully to marry Raviraj Mishra?" 

"I am."  "Well that's lucky," said Father Benedict, getting a light chuckle from everyone, including the bride and groom. 

He was always so good at easing tension; knowing exactly when people needed a moment to laugh, a second to take a breath. 

"Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands and declare your consent before God and his church," he said, gesturing for them to hold hands. 

You watched on with pure joy as the couple said their vows, your cheeks aching from smiling, any nerves or apprehension you had melting away as you listened to them giggle and trip over their words. But every now and again, you would find your gaze slipping to Father Benedict; the smile lines, the crinkled brow, the curve of his lips as he laughed. 

"You were right, he is really nice, isn't he," Esther whispered as she leaned over to you.

You nodded. "He is. I'm really glad he's the one doing this." 

"Do we have rings?" he asked.

Rav's best man took a step forward, taking the rings from the breast pocket of his suit and handing them to Father Benedict. 

"Lovely, okay," he said, clearing his throat. "May the Lord bless these rings, which you will give to each other as a sign of love and fidelity. Amen." 

He handed Rav a ring. "Repeat after me: Camilla, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit." 

"Camilla," said Rav. "Receive this ring as a sign of..." 

You slapped your face with your palm. Camilla rolled her eyes with a laugh. 

"Come on, I gave you the easy version of this as well," Father Benedict joked, drawing another laugh from the guests. "As a sign of my love and fidelity." 

"Camilla, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit." 

He patted Rav on the shoulder like a proud father, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Give me the hard version," said Camilla, making him chuckle deeply in his throat. 

"Has to be the same, I'm afraid." He gave her the ring. "Raviraj, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." 

"Raviraj, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," she said before slipping it onto his finger, smiling like she'd perfectly recited a Shakespeare soliloquy.

Father Benedict ran a hand through his hair. "Now this is where we would usually declare them husband and wife," he said, addressing the chapel. "However, Raviraj and Camilla have asked if they can read their own declarations which they have prepared. So I will now take a step back and allow Raviraj to begin." 

You sat up straighter, your ears pricking with curiosity as Rav reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, unfolding it with nervous fingers and clearing his throat. 

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "Camilla. Before I met you, I'd stopped believing in love. And because of that, I'd grown comfortable on my own; complacent, maybe even a little bit jaded. But from the second I laid eyes on you, I was forced to confront everything I thought I knew. You made me realise that love isn't something you can just avoid. It's something you feel whether you want to or not, and it should be embraced and cherished and nurtured."

The paper was shaking in his hands, and it almost made you tear up. You placed a hand over your chest as you listened, glancing over at Father Benedict who hadn't taken his eyes off Rav since he began speaking. 

"You found me at a time when I didn't even realise I was lost. When I thought the only way to be strong was to be alone. You showed me that real strength lies in being vulnerable and honest and imperfect, in being brave enough to risk letting someone behind the barricade. Maybe you'll lose everything. Or maybe..." He gestured to Camilla. "You'll gain more than you had to begin with." 

Father Benedict looked at you, you knew because you could feel his gaze on your face like the sun's rays. But you kept yours on Rav.

"So today, I vow to you, Camilla, that I will always keep my heart open for you. I vow to choose you, every single day. You are my person, my partner, and the best risk I ever took." 

The sound of sniffling echoed through the chapel, and you watched as Camilla wiped a tear from her cheek. She cleared her throat, turning to Alice who took out a piece of paper and handed it to her quickly.

"Rav," she said as she unfolded the paper, her voice still wobbly. "When a little over a year ago, a friend told me I should meet her neighbour, I was skeptical." 

You smiled, like you'd been given a shout out on the radio, mentioned in an Oscars speech. Father Benedict held back a smirk as he watched your reaction, rubbing his mouth with his fingers to hide it.

"I was focused and career driven and believed that a relationship would only slow me down. So I said no to meeting you. But then, like an act of God." She gestured to the church around her with a shy laugh. "We ended up in the same bar one night, where that friend introduced us after all. And I am... so glad. Loving you was never a question; I adored you from the start. The fear was that I'd found my soulmate at the wrong time in my life." 

Your focus flitted to Father Benedict as you thought of the last thing he'd said to you. Right person, wrong everything else. He swallowed, his eyes glazed over as Camilla spoke. 

"But there came a point where I had to ask myself: If I were to look back on my life, what would I regret more? Missing out on a few promotions? Or missing out on a lifetime of loving you? There was no contest. Choosing you isn't just a decision. It's the best decision I've ever made. I don't want to wonder what could have been." She flipped her paper over to read the other side. "And what I've discovered is that I actually haven't had to give up anything. Because you have supported me and encouraged me and cheered me on in whatever I've chosen to do. So my promise to you, Rav, is to always do the same. I promise to love and encourage and cheer you on in whatever you do, and I promise to choose you every day, because the only thing worse than not being with you is the regret of never having tried." 

You brought your hands together to clap, stopping when you realised no one else was applauding. Instead there were tears, sharp sniffs and coughs. Father Benedict stepped back up to them, clearing his throat and curling his mouth into a sincere smile. 

"That was beautiful," he said. "Now, let us humbly invoke God's blessing upon this bride and groom, that in his kindness he may favour with his help those on whom he has bestowed the bond of marriage." 

"Closer if you can, Darlin'," said the photographer from behind his camera. 

You shuffled closer to the groomsman you'd been placed beside, so close your hip was now pressing against him. Surely this was close enough. You held your bouquet in front of you and smiled as the camera snapped in quick succession. 

The sun was gleaming now in a clear blue sky, the air growing humid as you all stood outside the church for photos. The confetti you'd thrown was fluttering across the grass in the light breeze, the cars waiting near the road to take you to the reception. 

"That's lovely," said the photographer. "If you on the end there could just turn your body inwards a bit please." 

Lottie turned as the camera snapped again. 

You were standing in a meticulously organised row; six groomsmen and six bridesmaids, slotted together and posed in your blue dresses and their matching blue ties and pocket squares. Your groomsman was Rav's cousin Niall, who kept making you laugh by muttering things under his breath. 

"You, love, you're going to have to get closer than that," said the photographer. 

"Me?" You pointed to yourself. 

"If you can please, darlin'." 

"Jesus, any closer and we'll have to use protection," said Niall quietly.

You laughed through your nose, trying to hold it in as the camera shutter went off again. 

Across the grass, Rav and Camilla were standing together, stealing kisses and holding hands beneath the shade of a large tree. You felt warm watching them, unsure if you'd ever been this unequivocally happy for someone else before. Your eyes moved over the groups of guests to the church, your heart stopping for a moment when you saw Father Benedict standing at the top of the steps near the entrance. 

He was out of his white alb and stole now, standing with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, a black shirt rolled up at the sleeves and white clerical collar around his neck. He met your gaze for a moment and you gave him a soft smile. He smiled back, but it seemed sad, even from so far away. 

"Can we do a funny one?" asked Georgia.

The rest of you groaned in unison, but it was too late, the photographer already coming over to reposition the group. He turned you all sideways, your back to Niall's chest, his back to Esther's and so on until it looked like a twelve person queue.

"This is a bit human centipede-y, don't you think?" Niall called out to him.

"Do you think he's going to have us conga all the way back to the manor?" Esther joked.

Niall laughed. "Ellis is leading so we'd all be fucked." 

You elbowed him. 

"Alright, after three you're all going to kick out your leg and lean back on the person behind you!" the photographer shouted. 

"Oh cheers, Georgia, this is just wonderful," said one of the groomsmen. 

"I just wanted to pull some funny faces," she shouted back. "I didn't think he'd have us doing fucking Cirque du Soleil!" 

You looked over at Father Benedict again, shaking your head at him. His shoulders shook with a gentle laugh, his hand covering a smile. 

The photographer moved on to Camilla and Rav's parents soon after. You stayed on the grass, trying to rearrange your bouquet as your heels sank into the soft earth beneath you. You looked over at the other bridesmaids, watching as they all found their partners amongst the chaos; Alice and her husband talking to Femi and her fiancé, Lottie sitting on the church steps FaceTiming her boyfriend in Australia as Georgia introduced her girlfriend to Esther and her boyfriend. You bit the inside of your cheek, returning your attention to the flowers in your hand.

"Ellie!" 

You looked up to see Blossom running towards you. 

"Hi," you said, bending down to hug her before pulling back to look at her dress, the mint green material covered in a subtle frog print. "You look so cute." 

She smiled as Lorna caught up behind her, placing a hand lovingly on top of her daughter's head.

"So you compromised on her wearing the frog onesie to the wedding, then," you said. 

She nodded. "Praise the lord." 

You laughed. 

She slid her sunglasses onto her head, her almost-knee-length hair falling in loose waves down her back. She was wearing a long, sunflower print dress with exaggerated bell sleeves, a pair of wooden clogs with hand-painted soles. You didn't realise you were staring at her until she narrowed her eyes at you. 

"What is it?" she asked. 

"Oh, sorry. Sometimes I just wish I was you." 

"Don't be silly." She laughed and patted your arm. "I'm just going to see Rav. Are you coming Blossom?"

The little girl didn't move. You looked at Lorna and smiled. "I'll stay with her."

She thanked you as she walked away, and you returned to plucking stray leaves from your bouquet. You looked down to see Blossom running her fingers over your dress, quietly admiring the appliqués.

"Do you like it?" you asked. 

She nodded.

"I'll save it for you. You can have it when you're older." 

She smiled shyly. 

You crouched down, resting on your haunches to look at the dress with her, turning at the waist so she could see the back. 

Father Benedict was still standing at the top of the church steps, leaning against the open door as he stared off into space. But he seemed to sense that you were looking at him, glancing down to catch your gaze. 

You wanted to talk to him. Not about what happened, not about the two of you or your feelings or religion or anything. You just wanted to talk. About the weather, about how his day was going, about what he was going to have for dinner. There had to be a part of you that was still capable of that. 

Blossom pointed to one of the appliqués near the hem of your dress. "This one is my favourite," she said.

She didn't talk a lot, so whenever she did it took you by surprise. You returned your attention to her immediately. 

"Really? I like that one too. And this one here." 

You looked back up to find him smiling; a soft, sincere smile that made your heart ache. 

"Ellis, our car's ready to go!" Esther shouted across the grass. 

You stood up, taking Blossom's hand to lead her back to Lorna, allowing one last glance back at the church steps. 

A strange sense of calm washed over you as you looked at him, like there was comfort in your last memory of him being in the place he'd chosen to stay. 

You weren't sure how you'd ended up in the middle of the dance floor, huddled amongst a huge group of women as they squashed together in excitement. You'd intended to stay on the outskirts, but someone had pulled you, another accidentally pushing you further inward, until eventually you were at the heart of the cluster, watching as Camilla turned her back, counting down from three. 

Her bouquet came flying towards you, but instead of catching it, you ducked, letting it soar over your head and into the hands of a woman behind you. She jumped and cheered, the rest of the women laughing and clapping as her boyfriend jokingly made a run for the door. 

"God, Ellis, tell me you're scared of commitment without telling me you're scared of commitment," said Camilla, laughing as she walked over to you. 

"Well my natural reaction to things flying at my head is to duck," you said with a shrug. 

A waiter walked past with a tray of champagne. She plucked one off it and took a large gulp.

"The world's not running out of champagne, Cam," you said. 

"Sorry," she mumbled, wiping the corner of her mouth with her hand. "This whole wedding's just been so stressful. All that drama with the planner, and then the fucking church burning down." 

"Maybe it was her. Set fire to it out of spite because you sacked her." 

She laughed. "Wouldn't put it past her. We're just so lucky we got the church we did. He was nice wasn't he. The priest. Made it really... not boring."

"Yeah, he was... It was good." 

She cocked her head, brow furrowing slightly. "What?" 

"What?" 

"You just seem really sad." 

"I'm not sad. I'm not." You looked around the busy hall. "Lonely, yes. Sad, no." 

"Oh, Ellis, don't say that, you're breaking my heart."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm only joking. Go and enjoy your wedding for Christ's sake." 

She eventually disappeared into the sea of guests as you made your way over to the bar. You ordered a drink and plonked yourself back down at your table, resting your cheek on your fist as you sipped it slowly. 

The large hall was dark, flashing with colourful disco lights and strobes as the DJ played music from a deck in the corner. You watched people enjoying themselves; the funny dance-walk they'd do as they made their way to the floor, the buttons of men's shirts coming further undone as they got drunker and sweatier, the kids being told off for sliding on their knees in their good clothes.

Your table was empty since Lorna had taken Blossom home, the bridesmaids up dancing and catching up with people they knew on the other side of the room. You didn't mind, always finding parties more of an obligation than they were fun; you hated having to shout down people's ears just to have a conversation, being pressured to get up and dance, losing your seat if you left it for too long. You much preferred to sit on the edge of the room, nursing a drink and people watching. You were Ellis Attenborough, observing humans in their natural habitat. 

The music lowered and the multicoloured lights melted to a warm white. You looked around in confusion as the noise of the hall seemed to hush suddenly. 

"Ladies and gentleman, please join me in welcoming the new Mr and Mrs Mishra to the floor for their first dance as husband and wife," said the DJ over the speakers.

The room erupted into cheers and applause. You clapped along as Rav took Camilla's hand and led her to the centre of the empty dance floor. She'd changed dresses, swapping her ornate, bountiful gown for a sleek, elegant slip. You watched as the photographer scurried around them, trying to get a good shot as they wrapped their arms around each other and began to sway to the music. 

You hated yourself for thinking of him as you watched them dance. You hated that you felt jealous, persecuted, forced to spend the rest of your life as a spectator to other people's love stories from the corner of the room. You'd never been certain of what you wanted, and there was something so cruel in knowing now; knowing that you did want the marriage, the children, the brushing teeth side by side in the mirror each morning and washing dishes while the other dried them in the evenings. You wanted the fights, the sex, the anniversaries, the dates. You wanted to be a girlfriend, then a fiancé, then a wife. And if there really was a God, he was a fucking arsehole for taking all of those wants and putting them into a man you could never have. For setting up the dominoes so perfectly and then moving the last one just an inch too far to fall. 

The song was still going, and you watched as other couples began to join them on the dance floor, moving in their own little bubbles, smiling, kissing, embracing. You got up and weaved through the crowd towards the exit, stepping out of the hall into the vast, empty foyer of the stately home.

You grabbed the hem of your dress, lumping the abundance of material in your arms as you made your way through the front doors and out into the cool night air. Your ears were ringing, the noise of the party a distant hum as you walked down the steps and over the gravel towards the gardens. There were a few people dotted over the grounds, a couple walking hand-in-hand through the flower gardens, a man in a three piece suit smoking a cigarette as he sat on the grass, a woman waiting for a cab near the long driveway. 

You trudged over the grass with your dress balled up in your arms, drinking in deep breaths as you prepared yourself to go back inside. You turned around, taking in the full view of the manor, the stars above so bright and unpolluted by city light. 

You held your middle finger up at the sky. "Fuck you," you said. "You won. Well done." 

The man with the cigarette gave you an awkward look. 

"I'm talking to God," you said. "He's a prick." 

"Ah." He nodded.

You let out an exasperated sigh and walked back towards the house, almost tripping when your heel got caught in the grass. The noise from the reception grew louder as you made it back onto the gravel, and you wondered if you should just go straight upstairs to your room, lie down and begin nursing the inevitable headache. You reached into your bra for your key card, pulling it out and immediately dropping it, listening as it clattered down each step you'd just climbed. 

"Of course," you muttered, turning around to walk back down when a figure emerged from the dark. 

His footsteps crunched slowly as his tall frame came into view. You stopped, back straightening, blinking rapidly as your brain tried to catch up with your eyes. 

"Hi," said Father Benedict, his voice so quiet the breeze almost carried it away. 

"Hi..." you replied, brows coming together in confusion. 

He picked up the key card and held it out to you.

"Thanks," you said, walking down the last few steps and taking it from him. "I... I didn't think priests usually got invited to the reception..." 

"I wasn't invited," he said, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "I erm, it was actually quite stalkerish if I'm honest, I'm- I'm not proud of it. I asked around the town and found out where they were having it." 

"Oh." You looked over your shoulder to the open doors. "Well I'm sure they won't mind that you're here. They seemed to really like y-"

"I came to find you." 

"To find me?" 

"To tell you that this morning was my last service." 

"You're moving churches again?" 

"I'm leaving the clergy." 

You fell silent, looking around in bewilderment. "Wh- I don't und- Why?" 

"You know why." 

You stared at him for a moment, then your eyes grew wide. "No," you breathed. "No. You can't- You can't."

"Well I have." 

"Wh- Wh... When did you...?" 

"Today." 

You lost your grip on the skirt of your dress, the material falling from your arms to the floor. "Why would you do that?" 

He didn't answer, looking down at you like you already knew. 

"Ben..." 

"I can live without this." He pointed to his collar, before shaking his head, his voice cracking. "I don't think I can live without you." 

Your lips parted, a breath escaping like your lungs had caved in. Your eyes were beginning to water because you'd forgotten how to blink, your heart thumping in time with the music inside. 

"Ellis," he whispered. 

"Are you playing a trick on me?"

He breathed out a laugh, shaking his head as he moved closer and brought his hands up to cup your face. He tilted your head back slightly and leaned down, placing a slow, tender kiss on your lips. When he stopped, he let his forehead rest against yours, looking into your eyes as you struggled to form a coherent sentence. 

"But what... What if- If it didn't work out? Then-"

"Then I'd be thankful I got to love you. Openly, completely. Even if it was just for a little while." 

"You're not thinking clearly. You're giving up everything-"

"I'm gaining everything."

You shook your head in disbelief. 

Another quiet laugh rumbled in his throat. "Ellis," he said. "What do you want?" 

You paused, staring up at him. "I want to brush my teeth with you." 

"What?" 

You shook your head, throwing your arms around the back of his neck and pulling him into another kiss. His hands slid down from your face to wrap around your waist, hugging you tight as your lips moved in perfect tandem. You felt him smile, and you smiled too, weaving your fingers into the back of his hair.

Rav and Camilla wandered through the doors, taking a few steps before stopping suddenly. 

"Is that... Ellis... kissing our priest...?" asked Rav.

Camilla grabbed his arm and they slowly retreated back inside. 

Ben broke away, bringing his hands back to your face as he stared down at you. "Right person," he said. "Full stop."

*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @hiddendiary @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter @gordorio @shjl15 @thedaredevilsgirl @howardtonypotts @ceccille @wllsfer @thelostsmiles @vi0letdaze @stanfanfiction @king-kongbebe-blog @sof38 @doctorscarletwitch @rmoonstoner @intrappolatatrairicordi @ehuether @dragonqueen89 @estheticwh0re @Lfp10836 @kanyewestest @star-girl-05 @theothersideofthescreen @battledress @chaosdorito @vlqueen @erratica47 @happybunnyclumsyduck @bloggerbatch @bimrwolf @chaand-sitara @dude-where-s-my-tardis @run-clever-boy @j3mj3rrica

[slvttysstuff]

REBOUND chapter 5

chapter 1

https://www.tumblr.com/slvttysstuff/738042134255583232/rebound?source=share

Chapter 2

https://www.tumblr.com/slvttysstuff/738478643741884416/rebound?source=share

Chapter 3

https://www.tumblr.com/slvttysstuff/738741624067244032/rebound-chapter-3?source=share

Chapter 4

https://www.tumblr.com/slvttysstuff/738994933866905600/rebound-chapter-4?source=share

Summary: months after shelly and jay broke up he found himself in a relationship with you while he hasn't moved on yet from his past lover (shelly)

Warnings: grammatical error

¤.•⨳•.*☆✬✬☆*.•⨳•.¤⊹

You with the others decided heading towards your home except for Mia who was phone called by her mom needing her help for something, even though she wanted to tag along she can't

You unzipped your bag finding the house key in the small pouch inside of it while the others were waiting at your back " You got some huge house y/n " June said looking at the two floored house with white,brown and black painted walls

As I was about to enter the key inside the hole the gate swung opened revealing a middle aged woman " hey mom " I greeted as the others bow in front of my mom as a sign of respect and greeting her as well

" what happened to your face?! " My mom exclaimed as she went towards me holding my cheeks scanning those Bandages that were in my face " oh I fell while racing mom " I explained her looks sustain with worries seeing those bandage on my face " did they treat them already? Want me to take a look at it? " My mom asked

I shook my head in response " mom I'm fine, they already clean it up, can we go inside? " I asked as I assure my mom that I was completely fine, she looks over my unfamiliar friends, scanning them one by one not until her eyes landed on jay " oh I see you brought your friends with you, sure come in! " She smiled as she let my friends in

She followed us inside as I told them that they can sit on the couch " mom? Are you going somewhere? " I asked and she nodded " yeah I was just about to head back to the hospital, I have my shift later so don't wait for me " she explained, she's a doctor along with jay's mom that's why both jay and I knew since we were kids because of them

I nodded my head " sure take care " I said to her and gave her a small kiss on the cheeks, " thanks darling " she tooked her bag and was ready to head out " oh wait, I forgot, Owen called earlier he was asking for you but I told him that you weren't at the house that time " she said as I nodded my head in response and then she left

" who's Owen? " Minu asked once my mom left, " oh he was a friend of mine " I answered looking at them " a Friend? We don't see him with you huh? Or we don't see you hanging out with that friend " Dom looked at me confused his finger were at his nose

" idiot of course we couldn't hang out he's living in England " I answered rolling my eyes, they looked at me as if I was lying " England?! " Dom asked I nodded my head " enough with questions! What do you want to eat? I'll cook " I said as I looked at them, " I'm craving for fried chicken right now " Dom said as he layed his head on yuna'a shoulder while rubbing his tummy

" yah! Get off me you stink! " Yuna grumble as she pushes Dom's head " Im craving for ramen " minu said also doing the same with Dom's, I nodded my head at them as I looked over to the four who wasn't saying anything" what about you guys? " I asked " wasn't it too much already? Ramen and fried chicken is enough " June stated " we can have what they want " yuna answered looking over me

I nodded my head " sure I'll cook now, you guys can do anything just don't break things please my mom will kill me " I begged " no need to worry madam! " Dom winked With a wide grin on his face " Ew " yuna mumbled

" I'll go with you " Vinny stood up " I'll help you " jay also stood up, they stopped and looked at each other while the others were watching them " just rest the two of you " I said placing my hands on my waist as I watched them glaring at each other ' what's their problem? '

" I'll help you with the ramen " Vinny said as Dom clapped " yes you should! Your ramen is the most delicious! " Dom said as he did a chef kissed gesture making Vinny looked at him annoyed, " sure " I chuckled " just stay here and rest jay " I said one last time before walking away with Vinny following me

While cooking Vinny spoke " earlier, when you and Dom got into accident, jay was really worried " Vinny said " especially when you fell, he was ready to stop and forget the race and just run towards you " he continues, I was silent I didn't know what to say or answer I just put the chicken onn the hot oil " he's just worried about us there's no meaning about it between me and him " I said as I was facing my back at Vinny

He scoffed " stop acting dumb I know you saw it earlier, even after the race he was already looking out for you " he said with his annoyed tone, I kept in silence not wanting to talk about what happened earlier

" how am I supposed to move on if you kept giving me those hopes Vinny" I muttered, leaning on the counter waiting for the chicken to turned into golden brown " as if you're really trying to move on " Vinny scoffed at your lies " I am! " I looked at him

" but still, its really hard you know, being in a circle with friends with him.." I looked down " I always got to see him " I continued

" then try distracting yourself" Vinny crossed his arms looking down at me " how? " I asked looking up at him meeting his beautiful unpaired eye color, we looked at each other for a moment no one dared to break the eye contact, at that time I felt a tingling sensation on my stomach as if something inside of it was dancing, I should ask my mom about it later...

Vinny walked forward towards me as he put both of his arms on the counter cornering me, he didn't bother to cut the eye contact were having, his gaze were alluring but what shock me the most was the next words that came out of his mouth

" then use me as your distraction instead..."

[zoguy1]

Gift Exchange for @starfyhero2

Suprise! I'm your Trolls Summer Gift Exchanger!!

@trollssummerexchange

This is my first time participating in one of these events. And I'm so glad you were my giftee this time around.

First present is sticker designs for your Rocking Harmony story. Trolls Rocking Harmony - starfyhero - Trolls (DreamWorks Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

After reading the whole thing. I have to say, I absolutely love it! You did an amazing job merging World Tour and Band Together in a believable way and the story was really engaging. I especially loved the way you wrote Floyd. That was fun.

I really liked the concept of each of the brothers being connected to each of the other music genres and I just adore their designs.

Next up, Aroace!John Dory! Every year throught June, I make little designs of all my pride headcannons and ships. Since you asked for and Aroace king, I gave you an aroace king!

Speaking of JD, here's your Johnny and Delta duo.

A pair that I haven't really thought about before. But I really like the way you write the two of them, and how listening to Delta singing was JD's country awakening.

Next is your Music Whisperer story. The Music Whisperer - Chapter 2 - starfyhero - Trolls (DreamWorks Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

I drew this before the fic came out. I absolutely loved Floyd's feral design. It reminded me of a cat, and given that he was Branch's protector, I wanted to see him protecc Branch.

I can't wait to read more of Music Whisperer. You're a good writer and your stories are fun and entertaining.

Next is the Youngest Runaways AU.

I love the angst you have going on with these two and I genuinely can't wait for the fic!

And finally, my favorite scene from the Rocking Harmony story.

I loved the way you wrote Floyd absolutely laying into his brothers. Such a satisfying moment. I put your fic on text to speech and was listening to it as I was laying in bed, but this part had me get up from where I was laying it was so good. 1000/10!

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

INTERLUDE: this is why we can't have nice things.

— the one where everybody's waiting to see the fall out.

warnings: this is basically like the INTRO chapter with all media, we're going to pretend publications and broadcast timings are not mistaken or fake, okay? ok. am i myself if i don't mention taylor swift in every chapter? no. foul language.

masterlist ✢ next

By Tom Gill // June 23rd

Vic Presley confirms y/n hasn't reached out to her even after Vic called asked her to in a publication a few days ago.

"I think she has blocked my number by now," Presley said, "I am devastated by this. I didn't think it was like her to discard relationships so easily."

Presley and y/ln have been friends since 2020, when they met at the opening of the SENSE Club in downtown Los Angeles and quickly became inseparable.

"y/n really was— is my best friend. I miss her and I want her to come back to me."

Vic Presley also commented on y/n's split from Aidan Kim in her own way: "I hate that she hurt Aidan. I was not aware they had so many problems, that's definitely the kind of stuff you tell your best friend."

y/n was spotted just a week ago with alleged (and constantly denied) boyfriend, Charles Leclerc on a stroll around Central Park. Victoria Presley couldn't help but speak her mind on this.

"y/n has changed so much since she met that guy. I met him in Miami and Monaco, he's not one of the good ones. He's managing to isolate her from everyone who loves her."

Once again, Victoria urges y/n to contact her so they can rekindle their friendship. "I am not angry at her, disappointed maybe. But I will always have my arms open for her."

SEE ALSO:

→ Victoria Presley and Mia Kim collab in new project promoting Presley Beauty.

→ y/n y/ln, a disaster waiting to happen.

→ Aidan Kim is 'almost done' with debut solo album

By Paul Dean // June 28th

Aidan Kim has been in the spotlight since 2012, when he debuted as a member of boyband phenomenon Star-5 with their hit single "End Of The Day". After the band's dissolution in late 2018 due to creative differences between the members and rumored jealousy disputes that included Aidan himself, the Korean-American superstar decided to pursue a career in acting, in aims of expanding his horizons.

'Supercut' in 2019 was the start of a a succesful career followed by '1922' (2021) and 'Conversations with Friends' (2022) plus the series 'Crimes of the Academy' (2022) before Netflix decided to cancel it.

While it is true that 'Supercut' was a box office hit and sent Aidan Kim and co-star—and former partner—into a whole new level of stardom, Aidan Kim might be regretting ever making that movie.

"Supercut holds a special place in my heart," Aidan commented, politely. "It was my first real movie." Of course Aidan doesn't count the "3D Concert Experience" he starred with his other four bandmates as a real movie. "But I carry the consequences of making Supercut with me to this day."

The whole world is aware of such consequences, as y/n y/ln is keen on having the last word when it comes to the breakup from Kim. It wasn't enough to leave him humiliated by turning his marriage proposal down.

"Someone was looking out for me that night, I think," Aidan has tried his best to let go of such bitter memories by turning them into something positive. "At the end of the day, I'm glad y/n said no. I can't imagine spending the rest of my life with her. You're witnessing how unstable she is."

"It's quite shocking honestly," Aidan Kim didn't expect his ex-girlfriend to act like this. "I helped her however I could. Talked to producers, casting agents and journalists to give her a shot. And she says I never did anything for her."

Kim couldn't help but take the chance to refer to his ex's new lover: "But I've moved on. And I hope she does the same soon. If I were Charles Leclerc, I'd be worried my new girlfriend is thinking about her ex-boyfriend so often."

Lastly, Aidan teased his upcoming album, "I've worked very hard on it. I missed making music and I hope you'll like this new sound I'm trying after leaving Star-5's commercial music behind."

"The thing about music, is that it lets you tell your side of the story too. I hope you support a man doing this the same way you root for Taylor Swift, because double-standards are so 'in' right now."

SEE ALSO:

→ Mia Kim, the talented sister of Aidan Kim, set to make big screen debut.

→ Were Mia Kim and Victoria Presley mocking y/n y/ln in new Youtube Video?

→ Mia Kim: "y/n should have kept her mouth shut, there's still shit to be exposed about her."

FROM THE DREW BARRYMORE SHOW — JULY 6TH

[Y/N]: ❝(...) What matters to me right now, is that people now I am nothing of what they're calling me. I am not perfect, nobody is. But I have never cheated on a partner or used someone else as a 'toy' and most importantly, I built my own career.❞

[Y/N]: ❝It gets exhausting, you hear things about yourself you never even thought possible. It could be laughable if it wasn't so cruel❞

[Y/N]: ❝My relationship ended in February, but I believe it was over way before that. I acted in a way that was not fair to my ex-partner nor to myself, and I expressed my regrets about it. He had the right to not accept my apology, but not to make stuff up about the whole situation.❞

[Y/N]: ❝He's feeding his ego, he's a man, after all. But doing it at the expense of my work and my reputation is disgusting. I want one producer or casting agent to come forward and say they gave me a role thanks to my ex-boyfriend's input, just one.❞

[Y/N]: ❝I have surrounded myself with different people. They have been a great support system, always motivating me, and holding me back when I'm about to do something stupid. This also means I have left some people out of what's going on with me, and it's for the best.❞

[Y/N]: ❝Taylor Swift, bless her soul, has given me a lot of advice. She's the sweetest person ever and since the same guy that is trying to drag me has gone after her in a few interviews, she wants this to be over as much as I do. I think he made a mistake by messing with Taylor too.❞

[Y/N]: ❝Rumors will keep running, but I am finally at peace with knowing who I am and who I can trust. But those 'sources' should know my patience is running out.❞

By Jenny Highland // July 20th

Mia Kim and Victoria Presley are the hottest topic right now, but not for the reasons both influencers wish, as they are in trouble!

Both Los Angeles locals have received a 'Cease and Desist' letter from recovering actress y/n y/ln this week, per her team's advice. This was confirmed by both Presley and Kim on Twitter, saying they are 'flabbergasted' that y/n is accusing them of defamation.

While y/n is far from gaining her place back in the public's heart, we are not blind to what Victoria and Mia have done for the past month, riding the wave to get views and followers talking about their shared time with y/n. Who has every right to ask them to stop, as she has done in several interviews throughout the month.

For many people, this makes it more evident that it was either Presley or Kim who contacted tabloids to get their five minutes of fame and sink y/n deeper.

Actions have consequences for everyone, and if y/n decided to pick this fight at this point in her downfall/rerise/wherever it is that we are with her, it's because she knows she can win, right?

─── team principal radio: ❝thank you for reading! please let me know your thoughts! I know I'm ending your patience with this slow burn thing but I promise you we're getting there! Charles is back next chapter and you'll see haha. again, your interactions mean the world to me and i'm sorry if sometimes i don't reply to your comments, i'm just awkward but i love you all♡❞

✰ paddock club members: @sassyheroneckgiant @flowerchild-96 @fangirlika @shegotboreddsoo @roseamongthorns13 @cissyp @chimchimjiminie16 @saturnsrinqs @roni-midnights @gayyvodka6 @studioreader @its-ash-not-grey @lu-morningstar @ferraribabe @reidsworld @feelslikestrawberries @celestialams @kosmosgalore @heeseung-baby @missenclod @buendiabebeta @mycenterfold @aces-tattooartist @burningrred @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive@rainybabe25 @ru-kru @lazybot @teenagedreams-cl @cool-ultra-nerd @kuskumu @formulakay3 @bisexual-desi @somanyfandomsbruh @icarus-nex @haziefairy @xjval @xoxoloverb @sainzleclercs @headinthecloudssblog @incoherenciass @bookophiliac @torrie421 @nooshytushie @azxulaa @steephanie07 @anonymous8462 @tbisloneely @pukklv @bn7921 @be-your-coffee-pot @fdl305 @lovely-blackinnon @landonorizzz @ruleroftheuniverse @ivegotparticulartaste

want to join the paddock club? click here!

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[apolloscastellan]

We were just kids, babe | loss of my life chapter two

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig x FemaleTennisPlayer!reader

Summary: Your life had always been divided in two: before you met Tashi and after you met Tashi. The second you had laid eyes on her for the first time you knew you had been changed. You were soulmates, meant for each other Nothing could ever tear you two apart, or so you had thought. You could've pinpointed the junior U.S. Open as the night that changed everything. Now you have to juggle your hate-love relationship with tennis with your love-love relationship with Tashi and the two guys who you can't seem to stay away from. Tennis, after all, was only one of the most fucked up relationships of your life.

Warnings: challengers spoiler, challengers content warnings, super minor character death, terrible mother figure, use of y/n, polyamory.

Word count: 6.3K

A/N: the comfort before the hurt me thinks. Please let me know what you think!! <3

series masterlist | prev | next

Monica Seles Tennis Summer Camp for Prodigies, June 15, 1996:

You have never been more excited for anything in your life. You jump off the car, almost skipping towards the uniformed girls at the tables. Summer camp is everything you have ever dreamed of, six weeks of tennis, nature and no contact with your mum. She seems slightly less excited about it all. She wouldn’t have let you come if it wasn’t for the reputation of the place, they turned kids into legends, and that’s all your mum wanted for you. You are starting to suspect she wants it for herself, but you’re still eagerly attempting to impress her. One of the women introduces herself as Linda, your cabin leader, and one of the coaches you will be working with. You shake her hand, feeling extremely professional as you follow the instructions your mother had laid for you on the drive over. You follow her to a wooded cabin, almost shaking. All but one of the beds seem to be taken, however, there is only one other girl in the room. She was sitting on the lower bed of the bunk you, apparently, were going to be sharing. Linda informs you of the schedule for the rest of the day before she leaves to let you settle in. Your mum pulls you to the side to say her goodbyes. You know she is trying to be quiet so the other girl won’t hear you, but you can see her looking intently at you from the corner of your eye.

“You need to go out there and prove who you are every single practice, ok? I’m not paying all this money for you to waste your time. You need to fix your serve, and get better at your backhand, I want you on the courts every second of the day. And play a thousand percent every time, you never know who could be watching. Understood?” you nod.

She taps your shoulders twice before leaving the cabin. You walk over to the bunk bed, the girl has not stopped staring at you for a second.

“Who’s that, your coach?” she finally asks

“I wish, that’s my mum.”

“She sounds like a pain in the ass.”

“She is.”

She seems like she is going to say something else, but she is interrupted by another girl barging in the cabin. She has red hair and freckles all over her face. She looks down at you two, not even bothering to smile before she speaks:

“They are about to serve lunch and we can’t eat without the entire cabin being there so… Chop, chop” she walks towards the door before stopping herself, she looks back at you, a condescending smile now on her face, “I’m Kat, you’re gonna wanna remember my name.”

“She sounds like a pain in the ass,” you whisper as soon as she leaves the room.

The other girl snorts, covering her mouth before descending into a fit of giggles, you laugh with her, glad to have broken the tension. You both stand up, not willing to make your entire cabin wait for lunch, no matter how annoying the other girl was. You don’t wanna make a bad first impression.

“Hey, they said there would be a doubles tournament later today, do you want to play with me?” She says as you walk out the door.

You can barely contain your smile as you nod.

“I would love to. I’m Y/n, by the way,” you say, extending your hand.

“Tashi,” she replies as she takes it.

Flushing hotel, Junior U.S Open, 2006:

You can’t help but shake in anticipation as you knock on the door of room 206. You have never done anything this rebellious, you’ve never gone against your mother’s wishes so explicitly. You don’t even want to think about what your mother would say if she knew what you were doing instead of meditating and going to bed. It is part of what makes it so exciting. Tashi pulls you so you both have your ears against the door. You can hear the two boys scramble around, it almost makes you laugh. Before you can make any comments, the door is pulled open abruptly. The two boys stand before you out of breath. You smile and they mirror you immediately.

“Hi”

“Hey”

Tashi looks at them impassively, waiting. They seem to finally notice the awkwardness of having you stand outside their door while they gawk at you. The shift to let you walk in. The room looks exactly like what you’d expect two teen boys’ room to look like. There’s empty lunch boxes on the trash can, the beds are hastily made and pushed together

“So, how did you guys meet?” you venture to ask.

“Yeah, did you go to mommy and me classes together?” Tashi’s teasing makes them both laugh. “What? You seem like brothers.”

Her last comment is what makes you laugh. They look back at you strangely, unaware of why you are laughing. You try to play it off by shoving your face into the can of beer Patrick just handed to you.

“Well that’s what the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy will do to you” Art says, looking back at his friend with a wide smirk.

“Oh, that’s right you guys went to boarding school together,” Tashi says, as you hand her the beer.

“We’ve been bunkmates since we were twelve” Patrick doesn't hesitate to share more about their lives.

“That’s really cute.”

“You guys ever thought of doing something like that? Is that where you met” Art seems eager to learn more about you, it’s endearing.

“Boarding school? No, no, I couldn't afford it” your friend looks at you as she finishes, letting you choose how much you are willing to share.

“And my mum would have a stroke if she had to let me away from her sight for that long. No, we met at tennis summer camp. The Monica Seles Tennis Camp for Prodigies. Those were the good times.”

“So, is the Mark Rebellato Academy where you met your girlfriend?” Tashi changes the topic, looking at Patrick questioningly.

You admire the way her stare never wavers. Her confidence doesn’t falter as she digs for the information she wants. Although you don’t enjoy not being the center of her attention, it is interesting to see this side of her come out with someone else.

“No, no… yes. But she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Does she know that?” Patrick smirks at you, pleased to see you get out of your shell, but he doesn’t answer.

“What about you? Why are you not pretending not to have a girlfriend?” Tashi asks Art, instead of dwelling on your question.

“Art’s between ladies right now.”

“Don’t say that it makes me sound some sort of…”

“Player” you finish for him, extremely amused at their banter.

“Yeah, Art does fine for himself, I mean look at him” it’s soft, the way Patrick cups his face as he speaks.

They look into each other’s eyes for a second. You wonder if they notice it the same way you do, if they are as attuned to their feelings as you seem to be. 

“Have the two of you ever…?” you don’t know how to ask the question, but you are too curious not to.

It takes them a second to understand what you mean.

“Oh, oh! No, no,” Patrick’s face falls for a second, he recovers quickly, laughing with Art’s words, but you notice. “Why? Is that surprising?

You raise your eyebrows, eyes fixed on him.  You don’t know if he is unaware or trying to conceal it. Something about the shocked look in his face as he laughs it all off makes you believe it’s the former. Tashi, who has been instead looking at Patrick the entire time, must catch something in his expression because she speaks up:

“What?”

“Well…”

“No,” Art interrupts immediately.

“I mean…”

“No,” he repeats. “Not happening.”

“I think you need to tell us now,” Tashi resolves.

“C’mon this is a safe space,” you smile openly at them both, trying to convey how much you actually mean those words.

It’s the first time you’re in a room with Tashi and you’re not entirely consumed by her presence. You don’t know what to make of it. 

“I think it’s a sweet story,” Patrick presses.

“Well let’s hear it then” your smile widens as Tashi continues to push for it.

Art reddens, his face lowered, his head in his hands. He covers his mouth with his t-shirt.

“Mhm, yeah, no, go ahead”, he finally concedes.

“I… I taught Art how to jerk off,” he says it almost coy, but the smug grin on his face tells you all you need to know

From the corner of your eye you can see Tashi struggle to hold in her laughter. You are on the same boat.

“Okay,” Art says, finally looking up. “Patrick was an early bloomer, ok? And I think that I was on time. And one time, when we were twelve… He thought I was asleep and he was, you know…”

“Jerking off” they both say at the same time.

“And, yeah, and I asked him, what are you doing? And he told me”

“Jerking off” they repeat again.

“He asked me if I had ever done it before and I told him no. And so he just… He showed me how.

When you look at Patrick, he is already looking at you. He looks so proud of himself as he nods, a shit-eating grin adorning his face.

“What do you mean showed you how?” you say, just to steer the pot. “Did he…?”

“No, no…” Art is quick to correct. “I mean, he did it on his bed and I did it on my bed. We did it together, but on opposite sides of the room.”

You look at the beds, pushed together, then at Tashi, who raises an eyebrow at you. She doesn’t believe him, and honestly, neither do you. But you don’t want to push too far.

“In silence?” is Tashi this time who presses for more.

“Oh, no, no. We were talking about Kat Zimmerman, weren’t we?”

“Yeah, Kat Zimmerman.”

You can feel your eyes open comically at Art’s words, you start laughing uncontrollably, Tashi following close behind.

“Patrick said it’s always better if you’re thinking about somebody when you’re doing it. So I asked him ‘who are you thinking about?’ And he was talking about this girl, Kat Zimmerman, and so I thought about her too” Art rushes to explain, misunderstanding the reason for your laughter.

Tashi and you roll on the ground laughing for a couple of seconds more before you both regain your composure.

“Kat Zimmerman, you’ve got to be fucking joking.”

“Me and Y/n went to summer camp with her for like two years, she was in our cabin.”

“She was a total bitch,” you say, rolling your eyes at the memory. “She walked around camp like she owned it, and she kept saying she was the best player at camp, even though she could never beat me or Tashi.”

“What happened to her?” Patrick asks, looking back at Art.

“She got injured that summer and never came back.”

“Oh, yeah, that was Y/n.”

“It was not me,” you immediately refute, incredibly offended. “I was playing against her when she took a bad fall and broke her knee.”

“She was frustrated because you were demolishing her.”

“Not my fault!”

“No, you’re right, it wasn’t” you smile at Tashi, getting lost in her eyes for a second.

“What about you two?” Patrick interrupts, a knowing smirk in his face when you turn to look at him.

“What about us?”

“Have you two ever…” Art continues his friend’s thought.

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” you say, unwilling to say too much and make Tashi uncomfortable.

“We’ve made out a couple of times,” your jaw drops when she speaks. “We spend too much time alone in hotel rooms not to. I was Y/n’s first kiss” you nod, she has never spoken about this out loud before, not even with you.

“Oh, were you?” you can feel your face growing hot as Patrick turns to look at you.

“This guy asked me on a date and I didn’t want to not know what I was doing,” you shrug, as if it was nothing.

It wasn’t nothing. You had never called the boy again after that night. You hadn’t even let him kiss you, too afraid he would wash away the feeling of Tashi’s lips. You had never told her that, though. You had dreamt about that kiss for months, still now, if you focus, you swear you could feel the ghost of that first touch in your lips again.

“And?” Art asks, too eager to pretend he doesn’t care.

“She’s a quick learner. What, are you hoping for a repeat?”

“No” Art quickly denies, at the same time Patrick exclaims “Yes!”

Tashi laughs, standing up. She pulls your hand until you are face to face with her. Too close to focus on anything that isn't her lips. She manhandles you until you are both sitting in the bed, thighs touching, one of her hands on your face.

“Are you ok with this?” she whispers.

You nod, as eager as the boys had been. You know they are probably watching you, but you can’t get your mind to think of anything except how Tashi is drawing closer and closer to you. Both your hands are on her thighs as her lips crash into yours, an involuntary moan escaping your mouth. It gives the other girl an in to push her tongue onto your mouth. She kisses you with practiced ease, with the familiarity of one who has done it a million times before, with the tenderness and care she always kisses you with. Your face burns where she is touching you and you forget completely about the other two boys until Tashi pulls away, her hands still in your face, to look at them.

“Oh my God,” they say, at the same time.

She motions them to join you with a quick head gesture. They obey immediately, Patrick sitting next to you, Art next to Tashi. She pushes your and Art’s faces together, joining your lips in a kiss. He kisses you slowly, savoring it, as if he can’t believe what is happening. His lips are thinner than Tashi’s, but just as soft. After a couple more seconds, you get pulled apart. Tashi smiles at you before she pushes you towards Patrick as she starts kissing Art. When you look at him, his eyes are glossy, his cheeks flushed red and his hair messier than it had been before, you realize quickly that they must have been kissing, the same way you and Art were. You press against him without a second to think about it. His lips are less forgiving as he kisses you, hard, wanting. He doesn’t try to appear calm or collected, letting his desire and desperation for you show in the way he kisses you. It’s sloppy, but you like it.

You feel Tashi’s hands on your thigh, and you turn to look at her immediately. She has that smile you love on, the one that lets you know she is scheming. She looks to both boys quickly, then back at you, her smile never faltering. You know what she wants to do, the knowledge sending a thrill on your face. You match her smile as it dawns upon you.

The boys have no idea what you are doing as you pull them both in. The four of you crush, there’s lips and tongues everywhere, but you can’t bring yourself to hate it. Tashi lets all of you kiss for a couple seconds before she is pulling you away from the back of your t-shirt. You stand back, watching the two boys kiss each other passionately. There’s no way they haven’t noticed they are alone, but they don’t pull away. You feel almost giddy.

“Okay,” Tashi says, breaking the moment.

They pull apart and look at you, lips parted.

“That was very nice,” she continues, standing up from the bed, you do the same, “but we do have a final tomorrow, so we should leave.”

“What about your numbers?”

“We told you we are not homewreckers.”

“Please” it would be pathetic, if Art wasn’t so cute.

“Uhm, okay. We will be watching your final tomorrow, whoever wins can get my number” Art groans immediately, Patrick smiles.

“You can beat him,” you say, trying to encourage him to fight, to not give up.

“What about your number?” he asks, looking straight into your eyes.

“She’s not interested in you like that” Tashi replies, before you can come up with an answer of your own. “You’re not her type, if you know what I mean.”

You know what she means, and, by the way their mouths drop open, they do too. It’s not that you’re not grateful that Tashi is supportive, and loving, and willing to defend you if need be. But when you had told her you liked girls three summers ago, you didn’t mean you didn’t like boys. It’s true that you have never really liked a boy, but that’s probably because your head is constantly running endless circles of ‘Tashi, Tashi, Tashi’. You don’t think you would mind dating a boy, you’ve made peace with the fact that Tashi is never going to like you back, at least not the way you want her to. So yeah, you would probably enjoy dating a boy, especially if that boy was one of the ones sitting in front of you right now. But you don’t say anything, too embarrassed to correct her. They’re probably only interested in Tashi, anyways, you don’t want to be somebody’s consolation prize. The room is silent for a couple beats, you speak when you can’t take it anymore:

“Well, goodnight,” you say as you pull your friend out of the room with you.

“I'm so sorry,” she says as soon as the door is closed behind you in your own room. “I didn’t mean to out you, I swear, it just came out.”

“No, it’s ok, I’m not mad at you… I just… Tashi, when i said I liked girls I didn’t mean I didn’t like boys. I do, I’m… Bisexual” you manage to say.

“I… I didn’t know. Are you interested in them? Do you want me to take it back?”

“No! No, it’s ok. They probably weren’t interested in me anyways.” 

“What do you mean they weren’t interested in you? They were practically drooling everytime they looked your way.”

“Tashi, it’s ok, I don’t want their numbers, swear. And now, they get to compete for the wonderful Tashi Duncan’s number. That’s going to be a fun game” she smiles at you, before she can say anything else, like you can tell she wants to, you continue, “now, go to bed so you can beat my ass tomorrow. I need my beauty sleep before I get yelled at by my mother.”

She laughs, listening to you and getting into bed. You whisper a goodnight to each other before you turn off the light. You look at the darkened ceiling, your head too busy to fall asleep. You don’t know what to make of what just happened, of Art and Patrick, of how Tashi had acted. So you roll over, force yourself to stop thinking about it and close your eyes, willing sleep to come to you soon.

––––––––––––––––

You hug Tashi over the net, smiling wildly. She looks excited, but the smile on her face falters as her eyes meet yours.

“Congrats, Champion!” you say unwilling to let her feel guilty for winning.

“You gave me a good fight.” 

It was true, it had been a very close match until the very end. Both of you fighting tooth and nail, as you always did. Anything else would feel disrespectful. You walk over to the trophy table, arms intertwined. She claps as you get given your plate, smiling openly for the pictures, enjoying your last minutes before your mum starts laying it on you. You cheer for her too, louder than anybody else. The two of you take one picture together before you walk away, letting her bask in her deserved spotlight. You stall as you pick up your rackets and water bottles. You see some young girls in the stands, waving you over and you smile, loving an excuse to not go to your locker room yet. You sign a couple backpacks for them, making easy conversation. They tell you how much they admire you, you promise you will tell Tashi to come over too. You turn to walk away when a familiar voice stops you.

“That was a hell of a game” you turn to look at Art and Patrick, smiling at you over the railing.

You can’t help but grin, hoisting yourself up to hug both boys with a familiarity you should not have, given how little you’ve known them for.

“Shouldn’t you guys be preparing for your own final?” you ask, instead of acknowledging their praise.

“We wanted to congratulate you! Honestly, you could be winning slams tomorrow,” Patrick says, “both of you.”

“Well, we’re off to college, both of us, so maybe you should just let it go,” you’re teasing and he knows it.

“Are you coming to Stanford? You never said,” Art wonders.

“No, no, I’m going to Berkeley. Still close enough for visits, though,” you say.

“Berkeley? You’re going to Berkeley?” Patrick looks more confused than disappointed.

“It’s the top ten tennis program in the country, and they gave me a full ride.”

“You don’t look like you need a full ride.”

“Well, there’s more to me than what meets the eye,” you say, with no bite. “I need to go, my mum will be wondering where I am. Good luck, both of you. There’s a lot at stake today.”

You turn around and run towards the locker room, fully aware that the extra time you’ve taken will only infuriate your mum even more. She is yelling at you before you’ve had time to close the door.

––––––––––––––––

You sit next to Tashi, face recently washed, now out of your tennis clothes. The glow from her win shines on her face making her impossibly beautiful and you have to force yourself to look away from her and into the court. There Patrick and Art are battling it out, it’s not a close game. Art is putting up a fight, hitting the ball as well as he possibly can, but there is nothing he can do against Patrick. The blonde guy scampers around as his friend plays with him however he wants. It is almost painful. Patrick hits the winner with a trick shot in between his legs that has the crowd gasping. He turns around immediately, looking straight into Tashi’s eyes as he bows. Art struggles to catch his breath, clearly disappointed. 

You walk down next to Tashi, nothing to do as she sees Patrick in the distance and runs to catch up to him. You should probably leave, there’s nothing left for you here, and you don’t want to hang around to third wheel Tashi and Patrick. But you stall, walk around unsuspiciously, acting as if you belong there. A couple minutes later, Art walks out of his own locker room, head down.

“Art!” you yell at him.

His face lights up when he hears you. He looks around until his eyes meet yours. He walks up to you, a confused grin in his face. You hug him, your arms around his shoulder. His hair is still wet from his shower.

“That was a good match,” you whisper in his ear.

“No it wasn’t,” he laughs you off, shaking his head.

“Ok, so it wasn’t the most exciting game, but you still played well!”

“You don’t need to coddle me, I promise, I’ll get over it, I'm not a baby.”

You don’t know what compels you to do what you do next. Maybe it is his gentle smile, or the things you know Patrick and Tashi are probably getting up to right now. Whatever it is, you pull your phone out of your pocket, offering it to him.

“So, I know I’m not Tashi, and I’m not trying to be your consolation prize, but if you want to put in your number, I might be persuaded to call you some time.”

He takes the phone off your hands immediately.

“Consolation prize? Are you fucking kidding me? Patrick is almost going to wish he lost,” he says, then freezes in the middle of typing the digits into your phone. “Wait, I thought you didn’t…”

“That was a misunderstanding. I am into boys. I like girls too, though, so if that’s not…”

“No, No! I’m not… That doesn’t…” he interrupts, as he finishes typing down his name and hands you back your phone. “Call me, please.”

You nod, feeling giddy, something flutters in your stomach, akin to the butterflies that had only belonged to Tashi until then.

“Ok, I’ll see you around.”

You call him that same night, laying backwards on your bed, alone. Tashi is getting dinner with her family to celebrate, and you can’t wait a second longer, can’t pretend not to care.

“Hi” you say when he picks up, after only ringing once. “It’s Y/n”

“Hey,” he says almost out of breath, as if he didn’t believe you would actually call him.

“Who’s that?” You can hear Patrick's voice wonder.

“Is this a bad time?”

“No! Let me just…” you can hear shuffling and Patrick’s teasing voice, you can’t make out anything of what they are saying.

You know they are on the bus on their way back to boarding school. It is a bad time, but you couldn’t help yourself. You hear footsteps and you assume he is walking to the other side of the bus, vying for some privacy.

“Ok, I’m ready, sorry, Patrick was being a dick.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will hear all about his dick when Tashi comes back” he laughs loudly.

You hear somebody tell him to “Shut the fuck up, Art” and it makes you giggle. He apologizes, then focuses all his attention back on you.

You are still talking to him when Tashi comes back. She smiles but doesn’t say anything, waiting for you to hang up the phone so she can grill you for information.

“It was Art” you say, after you place your phone on the bedside table.

“Oh, was it? Interesting.”

New Rochelle, New York. August 24, 2019:

Art Donaldson: 2-0

Patrick Zweig: 5-15 

You are more excited than you should be. And pleasantly surprised. It’s not that you didn’t believe in Patrick, you did, but he is not used to playing on his own against the big names. It doesn’t help that he is playing against his long lost best friend, the first person he ever loved. So you weren’t confident that he was going to play his best tennis. Somehow, he is proving you, and probably everyone else, wrong. So yes, you are excited, the most sadist part of you reveling in the way Tashi looks more and more frustrated the more mistakes Art makes. It almost reminds you of the Junior U.S. Open finals, how Patrick had made Art look much worse than he was. Your husband wins the set with an ace, not giving the other boy a chance to score in the last game. Tashi stands up, walking out. You almost stop her, almost ask her what’s wrong. Until you remember that’s not your place anymore. 

When you look back at the court you notice both boys following her retreating figure with their eyes, both now sitting down for a break. Art takes off his t-shirt and you have to force yourself to look away, Patrick does not have the self control. He is grinning when he catches your eye. You shake your head, praying he doesn’t get too cocky.

Earlier that week:

You jump on Patrick the second he walks out of the locker room. He wraps his arms around your waist and spins you around. 

“I’m so proud of you” you say, running a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower. “Does it hurt at all?”

“It’s a little sore, but no pain.”

“I scheduled Mike in for an hour then we can grab dinner at the hotel, how does that sound?”

He nods, his head still hidden in your neck as you guide him towards the car waiting for you. Mike, his physical therapist, is already in your hotel room when you get there. You walk into the bathroom, using one of the courtesy glasses to take the pill you had bought the day before in the first pharmacy you had found. It’s supposed to help with morning sickness.

When you walk out again Patrick, Mike and your coach, Julian, are all talking, discussing the game and Patrick’s recovery. You sit next to him dutifully, holding his hand and letting him squeeze it when his physical therapist presses on a particularly sore spot.

“Do you wanna order room service?” you wonder, turning around after closing the door behind your staff.

“But I won! I think we should go out and celebrate.”

“Yeah, absolutely not, baby. I need you well rested for your next match tomorrow. I’ll give you the hotel’s restaurant, but that’s as far as we’re getting for our room” you melt at the way he immediately folds at the pet name, nodding along to what you’re saying.

He switches into a dark blue polo and you get a fancier shirt on before the two of you are making your way down to the hotel’s lobby. It is not very difficult to get a table for two at the side of the restaurant. Soon, you’re both laughing over your food like teenagers.

“Do you wanna try it?” he asks, his mouth stuffed with the steak he’s eating.

“God you’re so gross,” but you have hearts in your eyes, you’re smiling, and you lean over to let him place a bite of the meat on your tongue.

You don’t break eye contact as you chew and swallow, nodding your head.

“It’s pretty good.”

“If you keep looking at me like that I’m going to have to drag you to our room without paying.”

You laugh, openly, your head falling backwards. People turn to look at you, confused, but you’ve spent too much time dating Patrick Zweig to care about how people look at you in public.

“I’m going to the bathroom, behave,” you fix him with a warning glare that has nothing but love in it.

He raises both hands in surrender, and follows you with his eyes as you walk away. He does whatever you tell him, because he loves you. You are the best thing that has happened to him, and he doesn’t really know what he did to make you fall for him too, but he is going to do his damn best to keep it that way. So yeah, he is planning to behave, but then, as he is turning away from looking at your butt, he sees Tashi. And he doesn’t believe his eyes at first, he is sure he is making things up. But that is Tashi in the bar, with tired eyes and a sharp-looking outfit, never looking anything less than perfectly put together. So he has to stand up, he has to walk in her direction. Especially as they make eye contact and she turns, starting to walk away. He sees her give her mother the cup she had ordered and quickly dismiss her and a big guy standing with her. He supposes that must be their bodyguard. It’s kind of freaky that Art and her need a bodyguard now. He walks up to her when she is finally alone, she turns to look at him, sending an unimpressed glare his way.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asks.

“I’m playing at the challenger.”

“Yeah, I know that, but you’re not staying here, are you? There’s no way you can afford it.”

“We can, actually. Plus, with my injury, we couldn’t go to any of the Grand Slam Tournaments, so we decided to give ourselves a little treat with all the money we saved. We were already meant to be staying here for the U.S Open, so… Why are you guys staying here? I’d assume you would rent a villa or something.”

“Lilly likes hotels” Patrick pretends to be confused, as if he doesn’t know who Lilly is. “Our daughter.”

“Ah,” he acknowledges.

“Art can’t see us together, he already thinks I planned this to humiliate him.”

“Didn’t you?”

“Not this part” she starts to walk away, but turns around.

She spots you on your table, alone, your back facing them. She shakes her head, walking closer to him.

“Shouldn’t you be with your fucking girlfriend?” Patrick can’t help but smile, Tashi scoffs. “I don’t think she’d be very happy if she saw you talking to me.”

“And I don’t think you know my wife anymore,” he says, emphasizing the ‘my wife’, Tashi’s mouth falls open comically, but she is able to play it off quickly, “so everything you say are just assumptions.”

“I don’t have to talk to you. You and Art are on opposite sides of the bracket, you’re not gonna face each other unless you’re both in the final.”

“I don't think we have to worry about that.”

“No, you always used to fall apart in the second round without her. Can’t see why it would be any different now. Do me a favor,” she says, walking towards the elevator, “stay the fuck away from us.”

“Can you stay away from her?” the door closes as soon as those words have left his mouth, but he knows she heard them.

He turns around, a self satisfied smirk in his face, he knows he’s gotten under her skin. He sits in front of you, still smiling. You don’t look quite as happy.

“Why are you starting shit again?” you ask, more tired than angry.

“C’mon you love it when I start shit. Plus, she deserves it for what happened in…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you interrupt firmly, his hands shoot up in surrender. “We need to win the open. I don't want them getting into your head and messing you up.”

“It won’t happen, I promise. I’m locked in.”

You can help the smile that spreads through your face. He puts his hand over yours on the table, your fingers interlacing.

“Now, what if I paid the bill really quickly and then we can go back to our room and celebrate properly?” 

You giggle, he kisses your knuckles. He stands up and pays, then comes back for you. His hand is on your back the entire trip back to your room, itching to go lower. You fall onto each other as soon as the door is open, kissing passionately. And just like that, you have almost forgotten about Tashi, and Art, and how this is the first time the four of you have been this explicitly close to each other in a very long time, almost.

Hillsborough, California, August 20, 2006:

You and Tashi have spent August in your vacation home, away from everything. Now, on your last day before you have to move into college you sit in your lawn, watching the sun set.

“Are you nervous?” she asks.

“A little. I’ll probably be fine, but I’m gonna hate not seeing your gorgeous face every day,” there was more truth to that statement that you were willing to admit.

“Yeah, I still can’t believe we’re not going to college.”

“I'm going to miss you,” you whisper, letting yourself be fully vulnerable.

“Oh, you won’t, I’m going to be calling you all the time. I’m going to call you so much you’ll change your number.”

“That would never happen.”

“I’ll even write you letters, I know you love that romantic bullshit.” You can’t help your eyes from getting wet at her words. “And I’ll visit. Plus, we’ll play against each other a lot, so get ready to get your ass whooped.”

“I just wish I was going to Stanford with you…” and Art, you think, but don’t say.

“You made the right decision for yourself, and I’m proud of you. You won’t have to put up with her anymore.”

You nod, you have been feeling guilty over your decision, telling yourself you should’ve put up with your mother for a couple more years to be with Tashi. You feel more confident once you know Tashi thinks you’ve made the right choice. You haven’t picked up any of your mum’s calls since the start of the month and tomorrow, when you drive yourself to college, will mark the official start of your new life, a life your mum is not a part of.

It’s dark by the time you make it back inside, drunk on sadness and each other. Tashi kisses you before you walk into your room. It’s sweet, softer than any other kiss you’ve ever shared with her. You can taste the salty trail of tears on her lips. You stare into each other’s eyes for a couple seconds when you pull away. You don’t talk about it, not that night, not the next morning. You don’t talk about the kiss or how the both of you are in relationships with other people. If you had known that would be the last one, you wouldn’t have let her go.

[sachirobabe]

Chapter 8

Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

Wc: 3202

Summary: You, a dedicated member of the girls' volleyball team, find an unexpected connection with Kuroo Tetsurou. Igniting a bond over shared passions and stolen moments, love blossoms on the court; all because you met him at a captains meeting.

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Taglist: @merlucide, @lemurzsquad , @02shuuu, @michakune , @ivy-taylorsversion , @scinclaitnoir , @v-e-r-t21 , @bakugouswaif , @siheez

"You sure you don't want to come with?" You sigh into your phone, currently on a call with Himari.

"Nuh uh, no way." You can imagine she's shaking her head quickly, "I'm not going to ruin your date." She squeals.

"We're doing homework." You say, but a part of you is a little nervous to go. You've hung out with him before, but for some reason you're finding yourself caring about what you wear to meet up with him.

"It's a start. Trust me, I'm so rooting for you both." She says happily. "Text me when you're home so we can debrief." She squeals again and hung up.

You frown at your phone and set it down, looking through your closet to find something to wear. Do you wear something comfortable? Cute? Causal? It was pretty warm, as it was later in may, heading to June and July.

You decide on a casual comfy outfit, seeing no wrong in it. You checked your appearance last minute and take a deep breath before waving to your parents goodbye.

As you walk to the agreed destination, you text him that you're on your way. He sees your message as he's sitting at a table, he's been waiting for you. He was so nervous that he left extra early.

The sun beamed down on you, making you sweat a little and in need of a drink. You enter the library and your eyes meet his, you're smiling. A bit too much as you catch yourself excited to do homework with him.

"Hey." You quietly say, "I hope you weren't waiting too long?"

He shook his head, "Not at all." He lied, there's no way he's telling you that he was an hour early. "I got you a drink..I figured since it's warm out you'd be thirsty—or you like to sip on something as you work." He nervously says.

You think it's cute that you can see a hint of pink on his cheeks, why? You're not so sure about that. You can't possibly be thinking he likes you like that, right?

"Thank you, that's so nice of you." You smile and take the iced drink, sipping on it and enjoy the flavor he bought you.

He nods and sips his own drink, trying to calm himself down. He almost chokes on his drink as he spots a few of his teammates in disguise behind a book shelf. He glares at them, specifically Yaku. He just knows this was his idea.

His eyes look at you quickly and is less tense as you haven't even noticed them. You're looking through your backpack and finding a few worksheets. He makes up an excuse that he's going to try and find a book.

You buy it and he gets up and walks quickly over to his teammates. "What the fuck are you guys doing here?!" He whispers, careful not to make too much noise or draw any unwanted attention.

Yaku, Yamamoto, and Lev all wore some shitty disguise. One that consisted of sunglasses and hats—which was stupid in Kuroo's opinion, who wears sunglasses inside?

"It was his idea." Yamamoto and Lev point accusatory fingers at Yaku.

"Oh fuck you guys." Yaku sighs.

"What're you guys doing?! What if she sees you?" Kuroo panicked.

"Relax. I just had to see you weren't lying." Yaku says and crosses his arms.

"Yaku said I could learn a thing or two by coming." Lev says, throwing the libero under the bus again.

"And why are you here?" Kuroo rolls his eyes at the other twos excuses.

"Someone has to be the responsible one." Yamamoto proudly says, but Kuroo was not buying it. None of them were capable of that right now. "Okay fine. Yaku said he'd buy me food."

"Dude?!" Yaku looks at him, "Well, now you're not getting it."

"I said this was a bad idea, for the record." Yamamoto says, as if that was going to make him look more innocent. "And you're still buying me food."

"Guys, please leave. If she sees you guys—in these shitty disguises, she won't want to hangout with me again." Kuroo whines, grasping at anything to get his teammates to leave.

"Bro, relax." Yaku says, "We won't get noticed."

"And what if I did this to you while you're with the girl you like?" Kuroo flips the situation onto him.

"Yaku can't get girls." Lev says and Yaku kicks him, Yamamoto held his mouth to not laugh loudly.

Kuroo's mind was filled with worry, he'd laugh at that joke later. "Yaku, I can't be embarrassed. I'm already nervous as is." He admits.

Yaku senses his captains worries and sighs, "Okay fine. We'll leave, but I just wanted to make sure you weren't lying. I can't stand the fact that you have a girlfriend before me." He glares.

"Oh god, thank you." Kuroo breathes out a huge breath of relief. "I've already taken too long, hurry up before she sees you." The three nod and Kuroo acts casual as he walks back up to the table.

"You didn't find your book?" You ask quietly and look up from your worksheet.

He looks at you confused, but then realizes that was the lie he told you. "Oh—yeah, no. Couldn't find it." He takes a long sip of his drink, watching his teammates pretend they're in an action movie as they leave the library.

The workers all looked at them like they were crazy. He's glad you didn't look behind you, otherwise he probably would've died from embarrassment.

Kuroo takes out his homework and works on it quietly in front of you. After a little you take a mental break, putting away two out of three papers into folders and into your bag.

"You look focused." You smile, he thinks his entire face is red as he feels you stare at him.

"Coach Mori assigns a lot of homework." He chuckles, "How's it going for you?

"Good, I just need to take a break." You say and stretch, "Otherwise I think my brain will explode."

"Oh, I'm sure you're okay." Kuroo laughs. "Miss smarty pants." He teases.

You playfully rolled your eyes, "Ha ha. Very funny."

"You think I'm lyin'?" He quirks an eyebrow, his homework long forgotten about.

You shake your head and chuckle quietly, wary of others studying nearby. "I know I'm smart, way smarter than you." You tease a little, finding the small banter amusing.

He laughs a little too loud and gets a look from the librarian, he smiles widely at you and the two of you quietly chuckle. "You're going to get us kicked out." He says quietly.

"Me? You're the one who laughs loud." You shake your head.

He wants to tell you that he laughs loud like this when he's with you, nobody else can make him feel this way. But, he's taking baby steps right now, he can barely ask you to hangout without turning bright red.

"Hey, you wanna get out of here?" He speaks up after a few seconds.

You raise an eyebrow at him, "I thought we were supposed to be studious?" Your actions are the opposite of your words as you begin putting away your things.

He grins and throws his things into his bag, he stands up and pushes his chair in, waiting for you to finish up and follow him.

"Where are we going?" You ask, finally not having to keep your voice down.

He thinks for a moment, walking beside you. "Do you like ice cream?"

"Of course." You nod and smile.

"I know a place." He says and leads the way, "Kenma and I have been going here since we were kids."

"Himari and I have a spot like that too." You say, keeping up with his long legs.

"Yeah?" He says interested, "What is it?"

"Bowling." You chuckle, "You know that old place deeper in town?"

He hums, "Yeah, haven't been there since I was little. It's still running?"

"Himari and I practically keep the place going." Your laugh was beautiful to him, he needs to hear more of it. "Last time we went was for her birthday, right before school started."

"So, does that mean you're like a pro?" He smiles, thinking he could potentially beat you.

"I'm not bad, but definitely not the best." You see the competitive glint in his eyes, "We mostly go for the curly fries and milkshakes."

He shakes his head softly, "I found the ice cream place the first time I asked Kenma to play volleyball with me." He smiles at the memory, "I practically forced him, so I offered to buy him a cone if he played with me."

"So you bribed him into playing volleyball?" You raised an eyebrow at him and he chuckles.

"I guess so. I would ask him to play a lot, so he and I quickly became regulars at the shop." His eyes leave yours momentarily as he opens the shop door for you.

You thank him, the bell ringing and an older woman looks up from her magazine. "Is that you, Tetsurou?" She pushes up her glasses and smiles warmly at him.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Yuki." Kuroo smiles back at her.

"My oh my, you've grown." She chuckles and closes her magazine.

"Maybe just a little." He chuckles and scratches his neck, "but it's only been 2 weeks."

"2 weeks too long, dear." She says and finally takes notice of you, "And you've even brought your girlfriend, how cute." She claps her hands together.

You think your heart just stopped beating for a second, your mouth opens to deny or say anything, but a part of you kind of liked it.

Kuroo felt his face heat up, he had been telling her about his struggles to talk to you for years. "Oh, we're just—"

"What can I get you two?" She interrupts him, liking the way he blushes at you.

"Don't—uh don't mind her." Kuroo turns to you, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's okay." You chuckle, noticing how his face was more pink than normal. "I've never been here before, what would you recommend?" You ask and walk closer to Mrs. Yuki.

"Well, all of our ice cream is homemade." She smiles warmly, she can see why Kuroo had taken a liking to you. "I'd be happy to let you sample any flavors you'd like."

You smile widely at and thank her. You take a few minutes to read the labels on the tubs, you tried a few flavors. They were all delicious, her ice cream was nothing you've ever tasted before.

"I'll do a scoop of strawberry, please." You say and throw away the little spoon of the sample. She nods and takes her scooper, she gets a heavy ball and puts it in a waffle cone.

You grab it and wait for Kuroo to order, wanting to treat him.

"I'll do my usual scoop of matcha." He tells her, his face is still pink from earlier. She goes to put it in the register, you weren't given a chance to go up because he beat you to it.

"Hey!" You protest, "I said—"

"Too slow." He grins and pays for both of your treats.

"I said next time was on me. Let me pay you back." You go to reach for your wallet and he stops you and shakes his head.

"I invited you here." He smiles, your breath is caught in your throat at his smile, you've always known he was cute, but this was different. He was more than cute.

"Fine, but next time—"

"Eat your ice cream." He says and bumps your elbow on purpose, making your ice cream smudge onto your lips. He laughs, knowing exactly what he did. Mrs. Yuki hands him a napkin and he hands it to you.

"You're so funny, Kuroo Tetsurou." You playfully glare at him and wipe your mouth.

"You kids enjoy." Mrs. Yuki smiles, she can feel her face hurt from watching the two of you. She's happy to see Kuroo so happy.

Kuroo continues to laugh as he leads you outside to the tables. "Eat your ice cream." You do the same thing to him, he licks his lips and smiles.

"How mean." He says and wipes his face as well with his own napkin.

"You did it first!" You laugh and eat your ice cream, watching the green leave his face and onto his napkin.

"It's good, right?" Kuroo asks, seeing your eyes light up at the treat.

"Way too good." You chuckle, "I won't be able to eat store bought ice cream anymore."

"Welcome to my world." He laughs. "She's practically my second mom." He says, looking inside the shop for a moment.

"She's very sweet." You nod, "How long has she worked here for?"

"Her whole life, I think." Kuroo says, "Her father bought the store for her when she was young."

"It's a cute shop. I can't believe I've never came here before." You bit into your waffle cone.

"Yeah, I help her out from time to time." His tongue savors the flavor he got, "She needs help moving her batches sometimes."

"That's nice of you," You smile. "Thank you, by the way. For the ice cream."

He shakes his head, "No problem."

"But for real. Next time is on me." You warn him with a finger pointing at him and he only grins. Already knowing that would never happen, but he goes along with it for now.

You sit for hours there just talking to him, he made you smile a lot. You're trying so hard to keep your mind straight and focused on prelims, but being out with him was just so much fun.

It wouldn't hurt to keep this going, would it? You're still focused during practices and games, that's not changing.

Kuroo looks at his phone for the time and sighs, "It's getting a little late." He notices the sun setting, he looks at your features, appreciating how well the sun hit you right now. He almost wants to sneak a picture, but he doesn't want to seem creepy, he just wishes he could capture this moment forever.

"Yeah, we should start heading back." You say and throw away your napkin.

"I'll walk 'ya." He offered.

"You sure? I swear I thought your house was in the opposite direction." You say.

"Nonsense. I'll just take the long way." He chuckles and you give in, it was hard not to, especially since you didn't want it to end. "Don't want you to get kidnapped." He jokes.

You rolled your eyes, "I'd come back to haunt you."

"Oh, I'm honored." He laughs. "I had a lot of fun with you." He side eyes you for a reaction, you're smiling when he finishes his sentence and that's a win in his book.

"I did too." You say truthfully, you didn't even want to go home. "Who knew? That the nekoma boys volleyball captain was kinda cool?"

"Just kinda cool?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Don't push it." You joke and he laughs along. "I wasn't able to get very close with the other captains, so I'm really happy I got to know you more, Kuroo."

"Tetsurou. You can call me Tetsurou." His face gets hot.

You nod, "Tetsurou." He almost falls to the floor as a pile of putty after hearing his name leave your lips. "Today was fun." You say again, getting his attention, he was still smiling widely.

"We should do this again—if you want to of course, I-I don't want to force you unless you were just being nice—"

"I'd like that." You smile, cutting off his rambling and he lets out a grateful sigh.

"Great. Sounds good." He chuckles, telling himself to calm down.

"Actually..my parents leave tomorrow for a work trip," You gained a little more confidence to ask him to hang out, "And I have this cookie recipe I've been wanting to try, if you'd like to come over and bake with me?"

He feels his heart thump loudly against his chest, he's elated that you're the one who asked him to hang out again. He didn't want to feel like he was being too pushy or persistent. "I'd like that." His face hurts from how hard he's smiled all day with you.

"Great, so again tomorrow? At like noon?" You ask to confirm, looking at your house.

"Yeah, I'll be here." He nods. "Have a good rest of your night, Y/n."

"You too, Tetsurou." You give him a small wave and he thinks you look adorable. Once you're inside your room you're fumbling for your phone to call Himari to come over asap.

"Yeah? Wait—woah, slow down, slow down." Himari laughs on the other end.

"Wait! Don't go yet, he's walking past your house right now." You say as you look out your bedroom window. "Okay okay, come now." You say after he rounds the corner and off to his house.

Himari greets your parents as she walks by, seeing them pack up their car. She runs to your room and barges through the door. "Spill." She smiles ecstatically.

You go on about how you did homework at the library and then got ice cream, basically just giving her the rundown. "And then, I asked him to come over tomorrow after my parents leave to bake cookies." You finish, hiding your face.

"No. Way. You, Y/n L/n, invited a cute boy over." Her jaw drops, before all of this you hadn't been super boy crazy, you had two boyfriends before, but it obviously didn't go on for more than a couple of months.

"I know! I don't know why I did it." You say uncontrollably smiling.

"You like him. You so do." Himari grins, "Don't give me that bullshit about how you don't." She raises her palm to your face.

"I don't." You deny, but you can't stop thinking about him. He gave you butterflies. "We are just friends."

"Wait till Mori hears this now." Himari laughs, "She's going to have a talk with you.”

You groan, "No. She won't. Because this isn't going anywhere."

"Then why are you so excited to tell me about what happened? And why you invited him over?" She catches you in a lie.

You frown and didn't answer her for a minute, "So what? This'll probably fizzle out and go away in a few weeks." 

Himari raises an eyebrow, "Sure." She pretends to go along with it. The rest of the night, you and Himari spent the night together, watching shows and eating popcorn.

Kuroo had the dopiest smile on his face as he got home, he can't even say in words how happy and excited he is. He calls Kenma and yaps for an hour about you.

Kenma doesn't even acknowledge his babbling, he focuses on his pc as he games, but he can't help his curious mind about how you've gotten his best friend smitten for almost three years. It brings a small smile to his face, this means Kuroo will leave him alone so he can game more.

[dreamingofbucky]

INESCAPABLE | MIGUEL O'HARA x F!READER MASTERLIST

the official masterlist to the small series!

(header by me, created on canva with pictures from Pinterest)

blurb: Miguel O’Hara is inescapable. In all areas of your life. What was once a chance meeting with the very handsome man, turned into many. You can’t help but keep thinking about him. Until things fell flat and you made it your mission to never see him again. 

It doesn’t help that starting your new job at Alchemax, you find out he’s your coworker. But he’s anything from the same man you connected with weeks ago. He’s brass, overwhelming, grumpy, and doesn’t care for any of your input or ideas. He doesn’t even seem to remember you.

Matter of factly, he hates you. And you hate him. 

tags/warnings (will updates as we go): strangers to enemies to lovers, slow burn until it isn't, he's an ass, grumpy x grumpy, smut, feral and deranged miguel (i said what i said), all the smut warnings I'll update as we go, fluffy, cuddles, spiderman exists, and this writer is unhinged for this man so let her write what she wants.

Chapter Outline: - chapter one - chapter two 🌶️ - chapter three - chapter four (coming june 26-30)

OTHER LINKS: -spotify playlist

authors note: The F!Reader will understand Spanish (I'm so used to writing OC's on here/wattpad that writing Reader fics is a challenge for me but I'm very excited nonetheless). I am Mexican American and very excited to have them bicker and fuck in Spanish (when the time comes). No cheesy Spanish nicknames will be used in the first parts of the story, sorry. They'll be used more frequently when Miguel is less of an ass so the nicknames hold more meaning. I can't wait for him to fall apart for Reader.

Disfrutas

[flightyalrighty]

This next page, with is now scheduled for this Thursday at its usual time (7am), is gonna be the last page I'm gonna upload until June 27th. This is to ensure Infested has some buffer pages so I'm not scrambling last minute to get each page done every week. Thank you all for your patience and understanding.

That being said, my Headless and Ascended Ko-Fi supporters will get to see pages as they come out, and the Ascended supporters, specifically, have access to early script pages -- So if you really, truly can't wait, and absolutely must see what happens next as soon as possible, you can check out the aforementioned memberships here.

ALL tiers will also have access to all of Infested Chapter 1: The Cave in the form of a PDF once I put that together, and I'll be looking into doing a limited print run of The Cave if I can afford such a thing.

[thetriumphantpanda]

Cruel Summer | Javier Peña (Chapter One)

Javier Peña is back in Laredo, this time for good. He hadn't banked on you still being there, especially not with a wedding ring on your finger. A complicated shared history and plenty of unresolved feelings between the two of you should make for an interesting summer.

Pairing | Javier Peña x reader

Warnings | angst, fluff, swearing, alcohol consumption, eventual smut in future chapters, verbal and slight physical domestic abuse (Not from our boy Javi) but nothing else at this stage.

Word Count | 2.9K

Authors Note | So, Cruel Summer by T Swift has me in a chokehold right now and my boy Javi is getting the multi-chaptered fic he deserves from me. I wanted this to be different to what I've written before, there will be some tough reading but I want to challenge myself with this fic. Please let me know whether you like this - I've got a few chapters written and I can't wait to share them with you. Likes, reblogs, and messages in my ask box help keep me going so please do share your thoughts.

Bad Bad Boy, Shiny Toy With A Price, You Know That I Bought It.

The heat was stifling in Laredo. June had hit hard and no matter of the fact that you’d spent your whole life living here, you’d never quite got used to the summer heat. You could feel a bead of sweat pool at your collarbone as you leant over the sewing machine. Without looking up, you swiped the handkerchief sitting on the side of your worktable and dabbed at it, not wanting it to fall onto the material of Gabriela’s wedding dress that you were currently altering. 

The tinkling of the shop door hitting the bell alerted you to someone in the front of the shop. Sighing that someone had broken the concentration you had been using to focus on the seams of the dress in front of you, you stood up and went to see who had come to visit. 

“Hola Gabriela.” 

Gabriela had been your friend since school. The two of you had been inseparable, even when she’d traded small town Laredo for the bright lights of Austin to get her degree, you’d visited every weekend. As much as you’d always wanted to get out of town yourself you knew no matter what happened you’d be back so you’d decided against signing away your parents life savings and decided to open up a small tailoring shop in town. 

“Hola, querida niña,” She replied, “How are you doing today?” 

“Ah, I’m fine,” You replied, “Apart from melting in the back of the shop altering your dress.” 

“I still can’t thank you enough,” Gabriela gushed, holding a hand over the growing baby bump, “I still can’t quite believe I’m going to be one of those pregnant brides.” 

You chuckled, reaching out a hand to squeeze her shoulder, “You’ll look beautiful regardless,” You reassured her, “You’re already glowing.” 

“You’re too kind,” She replied, “Listen, I only came by to let you know a few of us are heading to the bar tonight if you wanted to join us?” 

“Ahhh Gabriela, I’m not sure, I think Ethan probably wants me at home.” 

She raised her eyebrows at you, “It was actually his idea, so no getting out of this one.”

You sighed but relented, agreeing to meet your friend at the bar once you’d closed up shop later that afternoon before giving her a hug and sending her on her way with a promise that she could come and try the altered dress on next week. 

*** 

The bar was packed by the time you arrived from the shop. People had filed in throughout the afternoon to seek shelter from the stifling heat outside. With whiskey and beer running through their veins, many of them had failed to leave after lunchtime. Standing at the bar whilst you waited for the bartender to open your beer you scanned the room looking for your friends. 

You’d found them huddled in a booth in the corner. The number of empty bottles that littered the table let you know they’d been drinking for some time. You hated it when Ethan drank too much. His short career as a college football star boosting his ego enough to make him quite possibly the most unlikeable person you’d ever met, even if you had married him. 

“Can I get a whiskey as well please?” You asked the girl behind the bar once she placed the open bottle of beer in front of you. 

She nodded and was back quickly with the whiskey which you shot in one, placing a couple of notes on the bar to cover the cost before reluctantly joining your friends in the corner. 

“Baby!” Ethan exclaimed when he saw you, pulling you down by the arm to sit on his lap, “What took you so long?” 

You took a long drag of your beer before answering, “Sorry, I was trying to get as much of Gabriela’s dress done as I could.” 

In front of everyone he pushed the hair away from your neck and placed chaste kisses behind your ear and down your neck which caused a shiver to run down your spine and not in a pleasant way. 

“Ethan please, not in front of everyone.” You chastised, standing from his lap to sit on the open chair opposite it, next to Gabriela. 

You watched closely as he shot a glare your way but was soon distracted by Gabriela’s fiancé and the rest of his friends and moved on. 

“You know, I heard some interesting new today.” Gabriela spoke into your ear so you could hear her over the music. 

“Hmmm?” You mused, turning to look at her. 

She paused, looking at the door of the bar, “Well, speak of the devil.” 

Your eyes followed her line of sight at your breath hitched in your throat. Javier Peña. Javier fucking Peña, in the flesh, back in Laredo. You, like most people in town, hadn’t seen him in years. There had been a rumour he’d been back a couple of years ago but had disappeared as soon as he’d arrived, but there was no denying he was here now. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” You murmured, “What the hell is he doing back here?” You asked. 

“Mamá heard from Chucho that he’s back for good,” She spoke, “She doesn’t know the details but something happened in Colombia and that’s all I know.” 

You watched intently as he walked to the bar and ordered a drink. Folks who were sat at the bar or standing around it turned and gave him a welcome, some of the men clapped him on the back or shook his hand, obviously congratulating him for a job well done. 

“Aren’t you going to go and say hello?” Gabriela spoke, lower this time so no-one else on the table could hear her. 

You turned to her with open eyes, panic flooding through your veins. You lifted the bottle of beer to your lips only to find it was empty, your brain had obviously been subconsciously telling you to drink it to keep your anxiety at bay. 

“Looks like you need another, go on!” She all but pushed you from your seat into a throng of people. 

You sighed; she was right. If Javier fucking Peña was going to be in your periphery for the rest of the night you were going to need more alcohol and if he was staying around for a while you needed to rip the band aid off instead of slowly peeling at it. 

You tried to hang back from the bar as much as possible, trying to hide yourself amongst the crowd but it was just your luck that the spot that opened in front of you was right next to him. You stepped forward, leaning against the bar to wait for the bartender to notice you. You turned to face Javier who had his eyes trained into the glass of whiskey. 

“You know, it’s usually tea leaves you read for visions of the future, not whiskey.” 

He lifted his head at your voice, clearly as taken aback by your presence as you were to his. You watched as his eyes looked at your face before the spark of recognition washed over him. 

“Well, I’ll be,” He spoke, “Of all the people I thought that would still be here, you were the last person I would have guessed.” 

You shrugged, “I could say the same for you, last I heard you were gone for good.” 

He shrugged back, “Things didn’t work out.” Was all he offered. 

“That’s not what I heard.” 

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t believe everything you hear or read.” 

The bartender stood in front of you, you handed her the empty bottle and asked for another, dropping the notes required to cover the cost on the bar as she walked away. 

“Are you back at the ranch?” You asked, attempting to steer the conversation somewhere that wouldn’t lace his voice with venom. 

“Yeah,” He sighed, “Pops needs help and it’s a good enough distraction right now,” He drained his glass of whiskey, asking the bartender to refill it when she’d placed your beer in front of you, “What about you, what’s keeping you busy?” 

You snorted through your nose, “Nothing grand, I’ve got a little tailoring shop in town, it’s small and most people tend to go to the bigger shop a few streets over but it suits me.” 

He smiled at that, “You were always creative,” He spoke, “I remember that dress you made for the summer party at school, it was lovely.” 

“Thanks,” You said, “I have to admit I’m much better now, Gabriela has entrusted me with altering her wedding dress, it’s probably the biggest responsibility I’ve ever had.” 

“I’m sure you’ll do a great job.” He shot a smile your way. 

“Well, it’s good to see you Javier,” You spoke, picking up your beer, “Don’t be a stranger.”

He placed a hand on yours that was resting on the bar and gave it a soft squeeze before you turned and made your way back to your table. You sat back down next to Gabriela before glancing at Ethan who had a face like thunder. There was no doubt he’d watched your every move when you’d left the table and you knew you were going to pay for that when you both got home. 

***

“Who were you talking to at the bar?” 

You’d barely walked into your house when Ethan started on your interrogation. 

“His name is Javier,” You replied, dropping your bag by the front entrance, “Gabriela and I knew him from school although he was a couple of years above us.” 

“Peña?” He asked, “Laredo’s resident hero?” You didn’t like his tone. 

“If you’re going to say something Ethan, then just say it.”  

“You know how I feel about you talkin’ to other men,” He started, turning away from you to pour himself a glass of whiskey, “You’re my wife.” 

“But talking to your friends is fine?” You asked, knowing that antagonizing him was probably a terrible idea, “Because you chose them, right?” 

“Don’t fuckin’ test me tonight,” He warned, “I saw the way he touched you.” 

“He touched my hand for all of two seconds Ethan, for crying out loud!” You exclaimed, “He was my friend and I’d not seen him in years.” 

You watched as Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose to calm himself down before draining his glass and pouring another one. 

“I want you to stay away from him,” He spoke lowly, the voice you knew was a warning to you to not push him any further, “Chris told me you weren’t just friends so don’t fucking lie to me.” 

“Well Chris is full of bullshit, he didn’t know me then and he sure as hell doesn’t know me now, Javier has never been more than a friend to me, but go ahead, believe whatever you want.” 

You turned on your heel to walk down to the bedroom before feeling a hand clamp around your upper arm and drag you back. 

“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” He spat right into your face, “You stay away from him, do you understand me?” 

“Yes, I understand,” You relented, “Please let go of me Ethan, you’re hurting me.” 

He did as you asked, turning away almost immediately to let you walk away. It was the same as always. You’d do something to upset him, he’d grab you, put pressure on you enough to hurt you and then let you go once you turned on your sickly-sweet voice to tell him you were hurting. Then you’d wrap yourself up in bed, pretend to be asleep when he came to bed and lie awake all night wondering what the hell had gone so wrong with your life. 

***

It had been a busy few days following the weekend. Gabriela had come in for her fitting and had decided the arms on the dress needed to go. It would be too hot, and she would be too pregnant to handle the lace sleeves she’d chosen originally so you’d been pulling long hours in the shop basically constructing her a an entirely new gown. You’d be lying to yourself if you weren’t also avoiding spending too much time at home with Ethan and trying to avoid Javier out in public. 

It was just after lunch time when the door of the shop opened, pulling you from your job of dressing the mannequins with some of the dresses you’d made a few weeks ago and to your dismay, Javier was standing in the doorway with an armful of clothes. 

“Oh, Javier, nice to see you,” You spoke politely, “Just give me a minute to button this up and I’ll be right with you.” 

“Take your time, Querida.” He responded, walking over to the counter to set his items down. 

You quickly fastened the buttons of the dress and placed the mannequin in the window before heading to the counter. 

“What can I do for you?” 

“I’d forgotten quite how ranch life worked,” He admitted, “I’ve popped the buttons off two pairs of jeans since I came back but there’s still life in them, do you think you can replace them?” He asked. 

You unfolded the jeans he’d put on the counter; it would be a simple fix for sure, “Yeah of course, it shouldn’t take me more than a few minutes if you wanted to hang around, I can do them now.” 

“If it’s not too much trouble?” 

“Not at all,” You smiled, taking the jeans in your hands, “If you come back here you can sit whilst I work.” 

You led him into the tiny workshop in the back where you kept your sewing machine. Motioning for him to sit on the chair you kept for customers you took your own chair and rifled through the drawers to find suitable buttons. 

“So, apart from ruining your jeans, how is the ranch treating you?” You asked as you picked out a needle and thread. 

“It’s the same as it’s always been,” He replied, “I guess ranching never changes and Pops has done a good job in keeping it going on his own.” 

“Chucho never fails to amaze me,” You mused as you threaded the needle, “I’m sure he’s glad to have you back.” 

Javier scoffs lightly, “I think mostly I’m a hinderance, I’m not as young as I was and all those cigarettes are finally catching up with me,” You didn’t reply, instead focusing on situating the button before you began sewing it onto the material, “And how about you? Pops said you got married a few years ago?” 

Your hands stilled as you looked up at him, “Uh yeah, it’ll be two years in September,” You forced a smile, “It happened pretty quickly but then most things do down here.”  “What’s he like?” Javier asked, you could feel his eyes boring into you as you tried to concentrate on sewing without stabbing your fingers. 

“He’s nice,” You replied simply, “He runs a sales business with one of his buddies from college which managed to buy us a house last year.”  “Nice, huh?” You knew he could see right through you, “Well I’m glad, you always deserved someone… nice.” 

Another moment when you stilled your hands at their work, this time refusing to meet his gaze that you could tell was still fixed on you, “And you?” You asked back.

“Marriage, me?” You could sense some tension in his voice, “The first time I got near I realized I could never be that man for someone, and I knew Colombia wasn’t forever, so no, I’m not married.” 

“Well, now you’re back I’m sure you’ll find plenty of willing volunteers.” 

He chuckled, but didn’t respond, “And your family, how’re they?” 

“Mamá is the same as always,” You mused, finishing up the sewing of the first button, deciding to look at him this time, “But dad died last year.” 

You watched his features soften a little, “Ah hermosa, I’m sorry.” He offered and you can tell there was genuine sympathy, he’d lost his mother many years ago but must know the pain that comes with losing a parent. 

“Está bien, Javier,” You replied, slipping into the small amount of Spanish you had, “He was sick for a while, so it was more of a relief than anything else.” 

“It’s still never easy,” He offered, “And he was a good man, I’m surprised Pops didn’t say anything, they were close.” 

You shrugged but didn’t say anything opting to focus on finished his second pair of jeans. You worked in silence and were done in a few minutes. 

“There, all done now.” You smiled, folding the two pairs of jeans and handing them back to him before leading him back to the front of the store. 

You handed him the jeans back and watched as he fished into his jeans for his wallet, “Oh don’t worry about it, it was a five-minute job, treat it as a welcome home gift.” 

“Don’t be silly, Querida, let me pay you.” 

“Honestly Javier, put your wallet away.” 

He looked at you and finding the serious look on your face he put his wallet back in his pocket, “Well, thank you, I really appreciate it.” 

“No problem, drop in anytime you need anything.” You called as he turned to walk out of the shop. 

He stilled for a moment at the door and you stared at his back, wondering what was stopping him from leaving before he turned his head slightly over his shoulder to speak to you. 

“I’m sorry, hermosa.” 

And then he was gone. 

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