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youunravelme · 4 months

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nothing happened in the way i wanted part 1

author's note: okay so let it be known that my FAV emily henry book is happy place (if you want a deep dive into my personality, if you want to know the inner workings of my mind, read the book) SO with that being said, this fic was inspired by that masterpiece. plus i've fallen down a matt rabbit hole as of late. just a warning, this is a LONG ass fic (74 pages and 30.3k words, not a brag, i kinda regret that it's this long bc my brain hurts) so pace yourselves okay? thank you for being the kindest people ever!! this is finished, but tumblr said what i wrote is too long. so i'm posting it in parts lolol.

summary: a year has passed and you are no closer to understanding why matt ended things and you have every plan of avoiding that thought until he comes back in town for the offseason, then suddenly he's everywhere.

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: ANGST, friends to lovers to exes to lovers, mention of sexual assault, attempted sexual assault, drinking, depression, panic attacks, let me know if i missed something!

after

despite being back in st. louis for six months, summer still felt like it came too fast. your thighs started sticking to the seats from sweat about three weeks ago. summer used to be your favorite season because it meant you had unlimited access to the love of your life, you weren’t sharing him with his teammates or his crazy schedule.

but he wasn’t yours anymore. matthew hadn’t been yours in six months and some change.

the second you entered your parents’ home, you tossed your keys into the bowl and slid your shoes off. it’d been six months since you moved home, and it still didn’t feel like a space where you belonged. you walked into the living room without so much as a hello from either of your parents, both of whom were posted up on the couch. they weren’t talking to each other, just letting the noise from the news fill the room instead of conversation.

“hey,” you greeted, plopping down in the recliner.

“how was work?” your mom asked.

you shrugged, not quite having the words to convey how mundane it had been. you were working on restoring a piece for this rich couple who lived in the same neighborhood as the tkachuks. it wasn’t in too bad of shape, given the fact that you were the one entrusted to work on it. if it was actually something incredibly complicated, your boss would’ve found someone else more experienced to do it.

when you entered art restoration and conservation, you thought it would be mindless. art had always been an escape for you, a chance to remove yourself from your racing thoughts. you thought that by entering the art conservation field, you could add onto something, enhance the beauty that was lost over the years of damage, instead of creating something from your own experiences.

but no one told you how hard it would be after your breakup, that you would have to learn how to pour bottles of chemical solvent into a glass when your eyes were blurring with tears. no one said anything about how you would spend hours hunched over, fixing the problems in paintings that only served to remind you that while you could mend a masterpiece, you were unable to stop and patch up the problems in your relationship. no one spoke about how you would inevitably relate to the paintings that came to you in shambles, the only difference being that clients would pay thousands of dollars for their paintings to be restored to their former glory, your ex let you fall apart alone in a city where you had no friends outside of the ones you’d made through him.

but how could you communicate that to your mother? to your father? both of whom stayed in an unhappy marriage for the sake of optics? how could you tell them that it’s been months and you were still no more over your ex than the day it ended? how could they understand you? they stayed together out of convenience, out of a fear of ending their marriage only to never find someone else.

it had been six months since your relationship ended, and you were no closer to understanding why.

“just a mundane day,” was all you said instead. “nothing to write home about.”

both of your parents hummed.

“did you have dinner already?” you asked.

“was gonna order pizza,” your dad said.

your mother scoffed and rolled her eyes. “no alan, we had plans to see chantal and keith tonight for dinner.”

you wanted to throw up.

you weren’t sure what you were expecting, maybe some loyalty from your parents? though, they weren’t fully privy to all the information about the demise of your relationship with matt, so maybe you couldn’t expect them to stop hanging out with his parents, especially when said parents were such great people.

“oh,” was all you could say.

“you’re more than welcome to order takeout and watch a movie,” your mom commented, like you needed permission to make yourself at home when you were actively living there. “i’m sure ronald would appreciate your company.”

you glanced at the tabby cat who was perched on his cat tree. personally, you had no issue with ronald, but he liked your mom and your mom only. though on occasion, he would allow your dad to pet him.

“i’ll figure something out,” you said.

your mom hummed before she stood up to go get ready while your father stayed on the couch. it was only another ten minutes before he got up to change quickly, and another five before they left the house without so much as a goodbye.

before

you were incredibly aware that you didn’t quite fit in. your mom drove you to school in a beat up 1997 toyota camry which looked incredibly out of place among the bmws and audis. your mom offered to walk you in, but she was wearing her scrubs from her night shift and her face looked tired, so you declined the offer and got out of the car yourself.

it shouldn’t have been as daunting as it was, but your old school wasn’t as prestigious as this one. your previous schools in cedar rapids had been public schools. no one was wearing a uniform, and most of the backpacks worn came from the same walmart in your old neighborhood.

but your parents had decided they wanted a better education for you, even if neither of them had the money to fork out thousands of dollars for a private school. your mom’s parents, however, were loaded. they were more than willing to fork out a small fortune for your schooling under the conditions of your family uprooting your lives to missouri. you were too young to realize what a sacrifice that was, you didn’t notice the snide comments your grandparents made about your father’s choice of career or your mother’s choice in husband.

you didn’t see your grandparents any more than you usually did since you’d moved to missouri two weeks ago. they’d been out of town on a trip to rome up until three days ago and hadn’t reached out to have dinner or hang out at all.

not that you cared at the age of nine, you were more focused on unpacking your room. but now that you were standing in front of the giant school alone, you felt like you should’ve been more concerned with how nice your school supplies were.

a kind woman greeted you at the entrance of the school. she smiled and introduced herself, though you couldn’t hear her over the roaring in your ears. she stood next to a blond haired blue eyed boy who was your height.

“are your parents here?” you weren’t sure how you heard her over the noise in your head.

you shook your head. “my mom had to go home and my dad is at work.”

the woman blinked. “is today your first day?”

“mom, it’s everyone’s first day of school,” the boy groaned.

“i wasn’t talking to you, matthew,” she said, though her eyes never left your own.

“i just moved here,” was all you said, albeit a bit quietly.

“well, you can walk in with us.” She placed a warm hand on your back and ushered you inside next to her son.

you took notice of her nicer clothing compared to your mom’s scrubs or your dad’s tattered khakis, though the woman’s clothing wasn’t as ostentatious as other parents’.

“do you know your teacher’s name?” the woman asked.

you nodded and showed her the crumpled paper in your hand. the night before, you were wracked with nerves and wrote your teacher’s on a blank sheet of paper and doodled around it. even at nine years old, you were concerned that you’d somehow forget. you couldn’t be more grateful for it now.

the woman’s face lit up. “oh how lucky! matthew look! you’re in the same class.”

matthew for his part, tried to look happy about it, but his eyes kept wandering to the hallways, like he was looking for people he knew. you felt bad for even being in this situation. you missed your friends from iowa and the light up shoes you used to wear before you were given a uniform.

matthew’s mom pointed out the classroom that was supposed to be yours and walked both you and matthew into the room. unlike her son, who immediately found his friends to do elaborate handshakes with, you stayed by her side. she was a stranger, sure, but she was more comforting that the classroom of fifteen other nine and ten year olds.

the woman sighed and bent down a little to look you in the eyes. “it’s gonna be a good day, sweetheart,” she said. “mr. terry is a great teacher, he’s really kind.” you weren’t sure how she would know that, but you weren’t going to call her a liar. “and if you need anything, ask matthew. he’s been going here since kindergarten, okay?”

you nodded.

mr. terry walked over and introduced himself. he had dark skin and a bright smile, showing you to your seat. your name was on a card with fun stickers on it. next to your seat, you saw matthew’s name. now it wasn’t necessarily an unpopular name, there were three matthews in your third grade class, so you weren’t holding out hope that it was going to be the matthew you walked into class with. but two minutes later, he was plopping down into the seat to your left.

matthew looked almost startled to see you sitting next to him, but when the shock wore off he gave you a crooked smile and stuck his hand out. “i’m matt,” he said, like you two didn’t walk into class together.

you shook his hand anyway and gave him a shy smile and told him your name, just in case he didn’t see it written on your desk.

if it was even possible, his smile widened. “pretty name,” he said.

after

you’d watched a movie and half of another one by the time your parents walked through the front door. ronald jumped off the couch to greet your mother while he ignored your father.

“oh,” your dad said. “you’re still up.”

“i’m about to go to bed,” you replied, though you didn’t move from the couch.

“dinner was great,” your mom commented. “chantal and keith said to tell you hello.”

your gut twisted at the mention of their names. you loved his family, you really did, but the mention of the family that was almost yours stung when you looked at how your parents acted like roommates on the best of days.

you remembered summer days spent in the tkachuks’ backyard, watching as matt and brady chased each other while taryn tried her best to keep up. you remembered your dad picking you up from their house, and how you begged the entire ride home for a little brother or sister. he looked at your through the rearview mirror and said “we already achieved perfection, why mess that up?”

but you were grown now. you saw how their marriage barely survived raising you, and they were probably being smart by not risking your upbringing just to have another child.

you bid your parents goodnight and headed up the stairs to your childhood bedroom. it looked less like the office it was converted into when you moved out originally. you didn’t fault your parents for taking advantage of your absence, you, like many people your age, had zero intentions of ever moving back in until an unfortunate set of circumstances happened to you.

and that’s what life had felt like lately:

unfortunate.

unfortunate shit just happening to you.

it wasn't late by any means, but you were surprised when your phone vibrated with a text message. maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t really befriended anyone since moving back that had you flinching at the shock of someone other than your parents (or grandparents) texting you.

you unlocked your phone and opened the message, sighing when you read its contents.

emma:

hey girl! just checking in to see if you’re still good for this weekend? no worries if you can’t make it!

you dropped the phone on your stomach and groaned into your hands as soon as they made contact with your face.

years of dating matthew meant you’d grown closer to brady and taryn and by proxy, brady’s fiancée, emma. you’d already committed to being a bridesmaid and bought the dress before your relationship with matt ended. when emma found out, she called immediately and gave you an out, said she wouldn’t take it personal, that she understood if it would be too hard.

but you remembered the countless conversations had about planning your weddings while the both of you watched the loves of your lives try not to kill each other from your spots on the back porch. and you could hear it in her voice, how much it meant to her that you would be there even if she didn’t want to push it on you. it didn’t matter that only one of you was getting the wedding you planned. the bets made on who’d get married first were obsolete now.

you wanted to text her back and say you were busy, but you hadn’t seen her much since her and brady came back in town. when the senators’ season ended in april, he and emma spent some time with her family and attended the playoff games for the panthers. now that the panthers’ season ended two weeks ago, all of the tkachuks were back in town which used to excite you.

now it just filled you with dread.

no, it’s not like you lived in the same tax bracket as matt’s family. you didn’t go to the same grocery stores unless you were tagging along. no, there was a comfortable distance between your neighborhoods and st. louis was filled with two million other people that the odds of running into him were slim.

but your anxiety preferred zero odds rather than a slight chance, and it made the logic that was once screaming at you sound like a small whisper.

you sucked it up anyway, though. seeing emma and the other bridesmaids was better than staying in your room and staring at the ceiling.

you:

i’ll be there! can’t wait!!!

and maybe you used too many exclamation points. maybe you were trying too hard to prove something no one would believe if they took longer than a split second glance at your face. you were a horrible liar, that hadn’t changed. you were just hoping by the time the weekend came around, you’d be too busy to focus on any of the pain.

before

the summer after keith retired, the tkachuks took you and your family on vacation with them to turks and caicos. your parents were stressed initially about the trip, but you were filled with nothing but excitement at leaving the landlocked state you called home.

missouri had slowly wormed its way into your heart. when your family moved, there was never a thought in your mind that you would ever come to love it like you did with cedar rapids. there was no way you’d ever consider this place your home. but then you met the tkachuks.

it’d been nearly three years since you’d first sat in that seat next to your best friend in mr. terry’s fourth grade class. now, you were splashing around in the waves with matt and brady while your parents looked from the shore.

school had been different the past two years, with matthew going to an all boys school after fifth grade while you stayed. it took some adjusting to being without him the entire school day. you didn’t want to think of yourself as codependent, or clingy, but mat was your best friend. it was an adjustment, having to make new friends in the same school.

now that wasn’t to say that you never saw matt. after your initial introductions, chantal offered to take you to and from school if your mom or dad dropped you off at their house in the morning. both of your parents jumped at the idea. your mother, who worked as a night shift ICU nurse, reveled in being able to go home and go straight to sleep. your father, whose job as an electrician required him to be on job sites early in the morning, didn’t mind it either, he had to be up early anyway.

and sure, you had to wake up earlier than you used to, but you got to eat breakfast and pretend like you were a tkachuk most days of the week (with the exception of the days your mom was off). keith would ruffle your hair as he passed you in the kitchen. taryn would race matthew for the seat next to yours.

the tkachuks felt more like your family than your own some days.

especially now when your parents went on a date that keith and chantal paid for while they stayed back at the beach house with you and their children.

all six of you were seated around the coffee table with the game of life laid out in front of you. the evening started out with a game of uno, but that game got out of hand quickly. it took brady reversing the order and hitting matt with a draw four before your best friend lunged over the table to tackle his brother. while keith broke up the boys, chantal cleaned up uno and instructed you and taryn to pick out the least competitive game you could find.

which is how you ended up playing the game of life.

even though life had to be the least competitive game you knew, matt and brady still managed to argue over it, even going as far to rant about how unfair it was that they had to pay for home insurance. keith and chantal had just chuckled and told them to enjoy childhood while it lasted.

you found yourself smiling and laughing along.

you weren’t quite sure who won, or how anyone ever really wins the game of life, but the moment mattered more. taryn went upstairs with keith to get ready for bed while brady helped his mom in the kitchen pop a bag of popcorn. you and matthew were responsible for cleaning up the game.

“are you having fun?” he asked.

your smile was so wide, it hurt your cheeks. “i’m having the best time. this is by far the best vacation i’ve been on.”

“really?” he smiled.

you nodded emphatically. “most of my family vacations have been spent with my grandparents.”

matt grimaced, already aware of the testy relationship your mom had with her own parents. “when’s the last time you saw them?”

you had to think for a moment, while your grandparents technically lived in st. louis, they were often out of town or ignoring your family’s existence altogether. with the exception of the last saturday of every month, when you and your parents were practically obligated to eat dinner with them. you didn’t notice their judgmental comments when you were younger and mesmerized by the giant dollhouse they bought for you.

but you were older now. you knew that there were terms and conditions attached to the cellphone they bought for you on your twelfth birthday. you heard the disdain in their voices when they talked down to your father and mother for their life choices. you weren’t an idiot, you understood that every compliment they gave you was a way for them to make your parents feel inferior in comparison.

you weren’t a child to them, you were a pawn in a game you never asked to play.

“we saw them about a month ago?” you shrugged. “they’re on vacation until halfway through august.”

matt hummed. “i think we’re gonna visit mom’s parents before school starts back again.”

to your credit, you did your best to look happy for him, even if it meant that you wouldn’t see him for a week and a half. you had other friends in town! in fact, you befriended a girl named simone when you started middle school. maybe you could call her when you get back to st. louis?

evidently, your little act wasn’t convincing enough. matt nudged your shoulder with his. “you’ll be fine,” he said. “you’re probably annoyed from how much time we’ve spent together this summer. you need a break.”

you couldn’t help but smile. “i could never get tired of you, matty.”

he blinked, almost at a loss for words, it felt like. but you should’ve known better, because he was holding up his pinky a beat later. “you promise?”

you locked your fingers together. “promise.”

after

it’s just emma and her friends and taryn, you thought. you already know all of these people. there’s no reason to be stressed out.

which, to be fair, your inner monologue was right. you had absolutely no reason to be standing in front of your closet debating what to wear for as long as you had.

before you could stop yourself, you were hitting emma’s contact and putting your phone on speaker. the dial tone rang out through the room while you waited for her to pick up. you were seconds away from ending the call when her phone sounded through the receiver.

“hey! what’s up?”

you exhaled. “i don’t know what to wear tonight.”

emma said your name through a laugh. “we’re not going anywhere fancy, i swear. it’s just dinner and then we’re going to a bar.”

you frowned. “so taryn’s not joining us after dinner?”

“no, she has other plans after dinner anyway. she said she was meeting up with some friends from high school.” as if she could see the hesitance on your face, emma spoke up again. “but you know all the other girls, it’s not like you’ll be hanging out with strangers.”

and she was right, you were in a groupchat with the other bridesmaids and found all of them to be quite pleasant.

“look, if you’re still stressed about what to wear, just wear jeans.”

“okay, but how nice is this restaurant?” you were rummaging through your closet. “because i’ve worn jeans to restaurants that weren’t supposed to be fancy and i found myself criminally underdressed.”

“yeah well, i’m better at communicating than matt is.” a gasp sounded through the receiver, like emma had just realized what she said. “oh my god, i’m so sorry—”

“it’s fine, you’re not wrong,” you said, forcing out a laugh even as your heart painfully squeezed in your chest.

“i really didn’t mean to,” she sighed. “i’m sorry, that was rude of me to bring up.”

you shook your head even though she couldn’t see you. “it’s fine, emma, i swear,” you said even though there were tears pricking in your eyes. “i’ll have to face the music eventually.”

“still, it was insensitive of me to say that.”

you cleared your throat. “don’t worry about it, i’m a big girl.” you pulled the phone away from your face so you could sniffle for a second without drawing any unnecessary attention. “so jean shorts tonight?” you asked.

there was a brief silence before you heard emma’s soft sigh over the phone. “that sounds perfect.”

before

matthew kissed you for the first time when you were hanging out with mutual friends after school in eighth grade. you’d been dreaming about that moment for years ever since sixth grade when you realized matt was handsome and the flutters in your stomach weren’t just from nerves anymore.

both of you were at your friend morgan’s house sitting in her basement. she happened to live in the same neighborhood as matt. so after school, you rode home with the tkachuks like you always did and then walked to her house.

morgan was the first of your friends to get a boyfriend and she wasn’t shy about telling everyone. it was easy to be jealous of her. while you hadn’t known her as long, your other friends had made it clear she’d garnered male attention since preschool. so there was no surprise that she’d announced at school earlier that week that she was dating someone from matt’s school.

hence the party in the basement.

morgan was the one who suggested truth or dare. she had all ten of you circle up on the carpet and sit criss crossed. you were keenly aware of how matt’s knee was touching your own, you could feel the heat even through your jeans. he was leaning back on his hands, with his right hand directly behind your back,in your delusions, you let yourself pretend he was doing it to be closer to you.

“alright!” morgan cheered. “who wants to start?”

no one said a word.

you made the mistake of looking around when you caught morgan’s eye. at the sight of a growing smirk on her lips, you quickly diverted your gaze.

“c'mon, no one wants to go first?” she hummed. “fine, i’ll go. babe,” she started calling thomas babe a week ago. “ask me, truth or dare?”

the only word you could use to describe the look on thomas’ face was besotted. without hesitating, he asked her the question, smiling when she grinned back at him. morgan chose dare, because she wasn’t “boring and lame.”

thomas dared her to kiss him. there was a collective groan when she leaned over and kissed her boyfriend. the second she pulled back, morgan’s eyes flitted over the rest of the group, looking like a tiger about to pounce. the two of you made eye contact and the corner of her lips raised in a smirk that was gone as quick as it came.

you prepared yourself for the worst, recalling how you let it slip that you have a crush on matt. and morgan, while she wasn’t intentionally cruel, had all but shrieked when you told her. so you didn’t think she’d out you to be mean, you wouldn’t put it past her to attempt matchmaking.

but her eyes skipped right over you and focused on simone. “truth or dare?”

“truth,” simone replied.

morgan rolled her eyes. “nerd,” but she cracked a smile anyway.

the game went on pretty effortlessly, you even got brave enough to do a dare (thankfully morgan never got the opportunity to ask you). it ended with morgan asking matthew. the smirk she had earlier, appeared as she made eye contact with you before setting her sights on your best friend.

“truth or dare?” she asked.

you immediately knew which option he was picking, matt never backed down from a challenge and had been choosing dare all night.

“matthew, i dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.”

your stomach dropped as did your gaze. you couldn’t look anyone in the eye, you didn’t want to see matt kiss another girl, you couldn’t. you wouldn’t do it.

a moment passed when you realized matt hadn’t moved an inch. he was still leaning on his hands, with one stretched behind you. all it took was a quick glance at matt to see him already staring back at you.

“no,” he said, eyes still locked on your face.

morgan blinked. “what?”

it was only then that his eyes left your face to look morgan dead in the eye. “nope. i won’t do it.”

she guffawed. “but you have to!”

matt shrugged. “i don’t want to.”

“but you lose if you don’t!”

he shrugged yet again. “oh well.”

your head snapped up to look at him in confusion. “matt,” you nudged him.

“we gotta go anyway,” he said, before he stood up and reached out to you. you took his hand, albeit hesitantly before he dragged you up the stairs and out of the house onto the street.

a cool breeze was blowing which inadvertently caused you to shiver. matt, who still hadn’t let go of your hand, tugged you further into his side. your heart sank when he dropped your hand, only for it to skyrocket when he threw his arm around you.

“why didn’t you do the dare?” you asked. the curiosity was killing you, even if you believed the real answer would be even worse than not knowing.

matt shrugged like he had been all night. “i didn’t feel like it.”

you blinked at him, staring at his profile while he guided the two of you back to his house. “you’re literally the most competitive person i know. you’ve never intentionally lost a game. last week brady dared you to drink that gallon of milk and run a mile, which, if i must remind you, you threw up not even halfway through.”

matt laughed. “that was funny. but what’s your point?”

“my point is that kissing someone is way less work than running a mile and throwing up. so what’s up?”

he wouldn’t look at you, his gaze fell to the ground where he kicked a rock. “didn’t want it to happen like that.”

you blinked at him, refusing to move your gaze from his profile. “didn’t want what to happen like that? it’s just a kiss.”

he shook his head and stopped walking, grabbing your wrist when you kept moving. matt tugged your arm so you’d turn around and look at him. “it wouldn’t be just a kiss,” he said.

“would it mean more?” you asked, but he didn’t say anything. “matt?” your heart was beating against your chest. your hands shook at the idea of him wanting to kiss someone. you went through the list of people in that room. it wasn’t morgan, he’d told you weeks ago that he didn’t like her like that when you asked. could it be simone? she looked like a goddess on a bad day. her dark skin was flawless and free of blemishes and her faux locs were always perfectly styled. she didn’t even wear makeup on a regular basis.

oh god. did he like simone?

your gut twisted at the idea, of him falling in love with the closest friend you had at school. you could learn to be happy for them, simone was great and matt would adore her if she agreed to go out with him.

you snapped back into it when you felt matt’s thumb rub across your pulse. “matt, would it mean more?”

he shrugged again, still not looking at you, just the part where your hands were joined. “would it be a problem if it did?”

now it was your turn to be confused. “why would my opinion matter? i’m not the one you’d be kissing.”

matt blinked at you once, then twice. “you can’t be serious,” he said.

“what do you mean?”

“you can’t be that blind. there’s no way.”

“matt, what are you talking about?”

he dropped your hand to run both of his over his face and groaned. “there's no way you don’t know.”

“know what?”

matt fixed you with an intense look, one that had you squirming in your shoes a little. in all your years of friendship, you weren’t sure he'd ever stared at you that way before. a hockey game? sure, but you?

“matt what—”

“i like you,” he said as plain as day, like he didn’t just flip your world on its axis.

you blinked, you were pretty sure you stopped breathing. “what?” you whispered.

matt stepped closer to you, close enough that your shoes were touching. “i like you.”

“so why didn’t you kiss me when morgan dared you to?”

“i didn’t want it to happen like that,” he admitted. “didn’t wanna kiss you in front of everybody.”

you could feel the heat travel up your neck and to your cheeks. “and what about now? would you kiss me now?”

“would you let me?”

words failed you, you could only nod. matt hesitated for a moment before pressing his lips to yours. it was clumsy and awkward, and in the middle of the sidewalk two blocks away from his house.

but it was perfect.

after

you ubered to the restaurant before emma could suggest meeting at the tkachuk house. every single one of the bridesmaids knew you and matt were no longer together, all of them banding around you and offering support from thousands of miles away. so you didn’t think any of them would even hint at meeting at the tkachuk residence if they were as considerate as you believed them to be, but you wanted to avoid the sympathetic looks that would be thrown your way.

most of the bridesmaids were there by the time you arrived, the only exception being taryn. the entire table greeted you with bright white smiles, emma stood to give you a hug that you enthusiastically returned.

it felt great to be back in the company of people your age. despite being back in st. louis for quite some time, you still had yet to make any more friends outside of emma and taryn, both of whom you didn’t see that often because of who they were relationally attached to.

unfortunately, you’d lost contact with many of your friends from high school because of the distance. if you could go back, you’d slap yourself in the face for thinking matt was going to stick around longer than simone or morgan.

but how were you to know he would leave and wouldn’t want you to follow him?

you swallowed that question down and took a seat at the table. you sat next to a brunette named stacey, the other seat on your right was left for taryn, you assumed. there were already two bottles of wine sitting in a bucket of ice on the table. part of you considered pouring yourself a glass immediately, but you remembered the plans were dinner first, bar later. so you settled for water.

it was only a matter of maybe ten minutes before taryn was led to your table. you stood up with the rest of the girls and waited your turn to hug her. taryn saved you for last, smiling bright and wide when the two of you finally made eye contact. you squeezed each other tightly as you hugged, unspoken words being communicated.

“now, before anyone looks at the menu, i just wanted to let you know, it’s on brady tonight.” emma held up her hand as mouths began to protest across the table. “he insisted, and we won’t be taking no for an answer.”

and maybe you should’ve protested a little harder to look more sincere, but your job wasn’t paying you well enough to afford a 70 dollar steak and drinks.

the table breaks up into mini conversations while everyone was looking over the menu. you were doing the same when an elbow nudged you from the right. you glanced over at taryn who wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she wanted your attention, it was something you’d always admired about her.

“long time, no see,” she said. but before you could respond, she spoke up again. “how have you been?”

you shrugged and moved your eyes back to the menu to look busy. “nothing has been going on really, just working.” you cleared your throat and hesitantly made eye contact again. “and you? what have you been up to?”

taryn shifted in her seat, a tell you knew was coming. you weren’t a stranger to where she’d been the past few weeks, you still followed her on instagram, you followed all of the tkachuks on instagram, even matt. so you knew she’d just gotten back after the panthers lost in game five of the finals.

you nudged her with your shoulder and gave her a small smile. “it’s okay, i’m not gonna burst into tears if you mention him.”

taryn smiled. “i’m exhausted, we were traveling everywhere for matt it felt like. it was cutting into my workouts.”

your jaw clenched at the mention of his name, mainly to distract you from feeling the ache in your chest, but you kept a pleasant look on your face anyway. “you still have the rest of the summer for your workouts, though. summer’s barely started.”

taryn nodded but she didn’t say anything for a moment. you started to shift in your seat when she reached a hand out and squeezed your own. “i miss you,” she said sincerely. “it hasn’t been the same without you around.”

“taryn...”

“you know, you’re still in, like, most of our family photos hanging on the wall. mom and dad haven’t taken them down.”

you weren’t sure if that made you happy or brought you pain.

“i begged them not to, you’re in too many memories for us to just forget you.” she cleared her throat and looked back at her menu, giving you a break from the sincere staredown the two of you were having. “they ask about you all the time, but they didn’t want to impose, mom especially. said she’d understand if you never wanted to see them again.”

you tried reading the menu through blurry eyes and pinched your lips together so no one would see them tremble. “i’ve been meaning to get coffee with your mom,” you said, though you both knew it was a lie. you’d made yourself scarce for a reason.

“she’d be happy to see you again, she just didn’t want to overstep.”

you nodded, still not looking at the girl you fully believed would be your sister one day. “i’ll text her.”

the waiter came by moments later to take your orders. thankfully, the tears had cleared up out of your eyes. as soon as you’d cleared your throat, you were telling the server your order without your voice shaking.

you bore the grief well, you thought. you laughed when everyone else did, smiled when appropriate, and asked follow up questions. socializing wasn’t hard, years of galas and charity events as matt’s plus one had trained you well for moments like these, so long as you avoided the eyes of taryn and emma, both of whom knew you better than anyone else at the table.

emma paid with brady’s card like she’d promised earlier. unfortunately for you, that’s when the anxiety started to come back. taryn was leaving after dinner, too young to go to the bars with the rest of you, and according to what emma had told you, she had plans with friends.

the group left together, with taryn waving goodbye as the rest of you headed to a bar three blocks away. your hands were shaking, so you shoved them in your pockets to hide the trembling.

it’d get better once you got a few drinks in you, you told yourself. you’d loosen up soon enough.

emma opened a tab with brady’s card and you immediately started going in. the group started with a round of shots, but you were quickly ordering more than just tequila. it was only a matter of time before your vision started lagging and your brain began buffering to keep up with what was happening.

you were on the dance floor, grinding against a stranger, who thankfully, was keeping their hands to themselves, when emma tugged your arm, giggling. “everyone else has left. and i think it’s time for us to go,” she slurred, a giant smile on her face.

you allowed yourself to be tugged away from the stranger. “how do you know?” you asked, fumbling over your words like trying to catch a bar of soap with wet hands.

emma smiled and pointed at the bar where brady was, you assumed, closing out the tab. seeing him in the flesh had your heart stuttering. the anxiety was kicking back in, hitting harder than it did when you were sober. you hadn’t seen brady since november, or was it december? the months had blurred together just like that one scene from new moon.

but now you were seeing him in the flesh, and he was getting closer as emma tugged you over to where he was. brady was just slipping his card back in his wallet when the two of you got to him. he looked up and smiled at his fianceé before he even realized you were standing there. the lovesick smile dropped but it was quickly replaced with shock before it was transformed into a smile you could’ve painted from memory.

“hey!” he said just loud enough to be heard over the noise. “i didn’t think you were coming tonight.”

if you were sober, you’d see that statement as a warning, preparation for what was to come. you would’ve noticed the way his eyes kept darting to the entrance of the bar, but you didn’t. you were just happy to see him for the first time in a while, feeling the semblance of home you’d been missing for months.

if you were sober, you would’ve remembered that brady and his brother were a package deal. you would’ve known that the nights brady wasn’t spending with emma, he was spending with your ex, and when emma had inevitably texted (or brady offered) her fiancé to pick her up, that he was more than likely already out with his brother celebrating his upcoming nuptials.

if you were sober, you would’ve noticed him walk through the door because your eyes were always drawn to him. you would’ve known it was him by the smell of his cologne, instead of waiting for him to slap his brother on the shoulder in greeting.

if you were sober, you would’ve made a break for it the second he started approaching you, emma, and brady.

but you were drunk off your ass, and all you could do was stand there like a dumbfounded idiot while matthew brendan tkachuk glanced around the room.

brady shifted on his feet a little, bracing for the moment you both knew was coming. the moment where matt saw you for the first time since november 29, when he played calgary. you’d imagine to brady, it felt like watching a car accident happen in real time. to you though, you were the accident. you were the one getting hit by a bus going full speed. you were rooted to the spot, taking in every feature of matt’s face that you’d missed over the last six months, waiting for him to see you.

if you were sober, you would’ve run away by now, knowing that being that close to him would do nothing for you.

but it was too late now.

matt finally glanced at emma, then brady, until his eyes landed on you. the smile on his lips from the song that was bumping through the speakers dropped almost immediately. he recoiled, took a small step back, almost as if he was shocked to see you there at all.

you felt like an idiot.

you weren’t sure how long the two of you stared at each other before you took a deep breath and stared at your shoes.

your hands were shaking again.

you shoved them in your pockets again.

matt’s eyes darted to your shorts at the movement, his eyes scrunched together in what looked like concern, but you brushed that thought off before you could convince yourself he still cared. but you could feel his stare on you, even as you looked around and avoided eye contact. you felt like an ant, with matt’s gaze being the magnifying glass that was burning you with a beam of sunlight.

“do you have a ride home?” brady asked. your head whipped back around to look at him and emma.

you shrugged, already feeling more sober than you were two minutes ago. “was gonna uber.”

matt scoffed. “not happening.”

out of nowhere anger bubbled out of your chest and out of your mouth. “excuse me?”

matt fixed you with a hard stare, one you didn’t shy away from. “you’re not ubering home on a friday night drunk as hell. it’s not happening.”

“i think you lost the right to make my decisions six months ago.” you refused to say his name, refused to know what it felt like to have it back on your tongue even though your heart was crying out to utter those two syllables again.

brady interjected before the disagreement could escalate. “i just wanna make sure you get home safe,” he said. “can i drive you home?”

you glanced at the man you used to know like a little brother. you saw the sincerity in his eyes, the concern.

and maybe it was the love for brady and emma that had you accepting. or maybe it was the alcohol. you nodded your head and let emma lock arms with you as you were led out by the tkachuk brothers.

you found yourself in the backseat where you used to hold hands with matt when you went on double dates with brady and emma. the two of you used to tease the younger couple when they did literally anything romantic. if brady so much as grabbed emma’s hand, the two of you were gagging in the backseat “choking on their pda” all while knowing brady and emma have caught you in more compromising positions before.

but it wasn’t like that this time around.

you slid into your usual seat in the back before emma could offer up shotgun to you. maybe if you were more selfish, you’d accept, but you weren’t going to let your friend sit away from her fiancé when you could just suck it up.

the space between you and matt felt too suffocatingly small and yet it still felt like you were on two opposite sides of the globe. you thought about taking a risk and throwing yourself out of the moving vehicle, but there was still a wedding you were both in. you needed to figure out how to tolerate being around him if you didn’t want to cause a scene later in the summer.

you just had to make it to the end of july, then you could go back and pretend like december 16th never happened, like the past nine years of your life never happened. like you never fell in love with your best friend, like you never met him and his mother in fourth grade, like your parents never moved you to st. louis. like there weren’t traces of your failed relationship in every scrapbook in your parents’ house, like he wasn’t tied to every significant moment of your childhood.

you felt like the bundle of christmas lights that you’d sworn you put back in an orderly fashion the previous year, only to pull them out and realize you had an entire project on your hands to detangle them all.

except in the end, none of the lights worked anyway.

you could hardly remember a time where your life wasn’t deeply intertwined with matthew’s. you thought it’d lead to something, to marriage, to raising kids together, to celebrating his retirement, buying a home close to his family, and growing fat and old together.

you hated the idea that you went down that road only for it to be a dead end.

brady pulled up outside your house. you were unbuckling your seat belt and throwing the door open before he’d even put the car in park. you were doing your best to get to the front porch before anything else happened, but as hard as you tried, you were still a little too drunk. you were stumbling up the driveway and to the front door, all the while trying to figure out which key was the key to your house.

a car door slammed in the distance before footsteps followed.

you knew the sound like you knew the sound of your mother’s sadness. you would’ve recognized his footfalls anywhere.

in your haste and anxiety, you dropped your keys. you squatted down and nearly tipped over at the rush to your head. matt’s hand shot out before you could grab the keys while his other hand grabbed your elbow and pulled you into a standing position. he led you to the front door and with ease, found your house key. he unlocked the door but didn’t move to open it. you could feel his stare on the side of your face, but you refused to look back.

his touch on your skin felt like it was burning, and part of you wanted to rip your arm out of his grasp, but you couldn’t.

you just—

couldn't.

matt said your name quietly, but you just shook your head, willing the tears to go away. he didn’t get to see you cry, didn’t get to know that his actions had absolutely wrecked you. he tried again, but you inhaled and jerked your arm out of his reach before you opened your front door, grabbed your keys, and shut it in his face.

you barely made it into your bathroom before you threw up.

before

you were bouncing on your toes at the airport. matt’s plane landed fifteen minutes ago, and you were anxiously waiting for him to round the corner.

matt’s first year with the ntdp made your relationship a little difficult, though, you thought it would be harder than it was. modern technology definitely made it easier on you. matt would call you just about every other night, and if he couldn’t, matt was texting you whenever he had the freetime.

the last time you saw each other was when you and the tkachuks spent your spring break in ann arbor to visit, and that had been over a month ago. thankfully, you’d managed to convince your mom to let you check out of school early to wait for him.

“someone’s excited,” taryn teased, bumping her shoulder into your side.

“honey leave her alone,” chantal chided. “we’re all excited.”

“i’m not,” brady grumbled. not even a beat later, keith was slapping the back of his head.

moments later, matt walked around the corner with his bags in hand. you fought every urge to run to him, deciding he probably wanted to greet his family first. and he did, you watched as he hugged his mom and dad first, moving the taryn, before punching brady in the shoulder.

you were nervously playing with the hem of your school issued plaid skirt as you looked on, suddenly feeling out of place. but it didn’t linger because in a blink of an eye, matt’s arms were wrapping around your waist and tugging you into his chest.

a sigh escaped your lips, one you didn’t even know was held hostage in your chest. maybe you were being dramatic (you were almost 16, after all), but it felt like the part of you that was missing was just returned.

“missed you,” he mumbled into your neck.

you couldn’t help the smile that graced your lips.

matt didn’t let go of you, even when everyone started walking towards the car where keith parked. your hand was tightly grasped in his own, forcing brady to carry the other bag matt couldn’t. to make up for it, you offered to sit in the back of keith’s escalade so brady could have more leg room. matt ended up grumbling about it, but it was clear he wasn’t going to let you sit in the back next to taryn when he hadn’t seen you in weeks.

“i ruined my perfect attendance streak for you,” you said as you traced the veins of his hands.

matt smirked. “i messed up little miss perfect’s squeaky clean record? how will you ever get into college now?”

you ripped your hand from his and shoved his shoulder, barely restraining yourself from cussing him out. “shut up,” was what you settled for because while taryn and brady had most definitely heard their fair share of curse words, you didn’t want to be the one on the receiving end of chantal’s disapproving look, even if it meant keith would be fighting for his life to hold back laughter.

all four of you, keith and chantal excluded, all but scrambled out of the car when it pulled into the garage. you and matt grabbed both of his bags before bum rushing into the house and up the stairs to his room.

“leave the door open!” chantal called from the first floor.

you didn’t need to see his face to know matt was rolling his eyes.

“i’m tempted to ignore her and just slam and lock the door,” he grumbled.

you dropped the bag you were holding and guffawed. “you wouldn’t. you love your mom.”

matt dropped his bag and immediately took the opportunity to grab you by the waist. “and i love you.”

you almost giggled, but you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself so you beamed instead. the first time he said those words was a few months ago over facetime and it still made you giddy as it did then.

matt pressed his forehead against yours. “you’re not gonna say it back?” he asked.

you blinked, still smiling. “what?”

“you're not gonna say you love me back?”

you shrugged, knowing it would get under his skin. you knew the consequences. “hm,” you hummed. “do i need to?”

matt rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might’ve gotten stuck in the back of his head. “quit being smart.”

and maybe you should’ve given up, maybe you should’ve let it go and say those three little words you’d said countless times before. but teasing him was way too much fun to pass up when you hadn’t seen him in months. so you pursed your lips and hummed again. “i seem to recall you saying you liked how smart i am. something about being the beauty and the brains?”

and out of nowhere, taryn popped her head in. “well matt for sure wasn’t going to be the beauty, and he’s never been the brains,” she smirked.

matt let go of you and marched over to the door, all but slamming it in her face.

“matthew brendan tkachuk! that door better be open!” chantal’s voice carried up the stairs had you lunging across the room and whipping open the door in a hurry.

“sorry mrs. tkachuk!” you called out before turning around and glaring at your boyfriend. “you’re a menace.”

matthew smirked and pulled you close enough that you were chest to chest. “but you love me.”

“i love you so much.”

after

the hangover you had the next morning was probably the worst you ever remember having. well, until you remembered the night matt broke up with you, that was the worst one.

you turned over in bed, picked up your phone, and saw multiple texts from emma and brady alike, both ranging from “it was great to see you” to “i’m so sorry about last night.” you groaned and dropped your phone back on the nightstand.

last night, when you thought about it, hurt more than it should’ve. you saw him for the first time in the flesh and it looked like he was fine, like he didn’t completely upend your life six months ago when he ended things. part of you wondered if he could see through you, through the illusion of your happiness and to the core where you were just as fractured as you were december 17th.

the rest of the weekend continued with you doing little to nothing but eating and binging trashy reality tv shows. when your alarm went off on monday morning, you contemplated calling off, but got dressed instead.

“you look like hell,” was the first thing frankie, your mentor and boss, said to you. because of the nature of your relationship, you felt comfortable flipping him off, even as he passed you a cup of coffee. “rough night?” he asked after watching you take a hefty sip of the hot beverage.

“rough weekend,” you grumbled.

frankie gave you a small smile and patted you on the back as the two of you walked to the workspace. “wanna talk about it?”

you recognized performative kindness when you saw it. while you firmly believed frankie cared about you and your wellbeing, you also knew he didn’t want to hear the sob story of how you ran into your ex drunk at a bar, at least, not at 8am. so you shook your head.

“i looked at some of your work on the bradshaw family’s piece so far, and i was impressed. i do have some notes, but for the most part, you’ve been doing a great job.”

you did your best to smile gratefully, but you weren’t sure it translated. “i really appreciate your guidance on this, and the trust you have to let me work on some of these projects.”

“you’re very talented,” he said. “you ever thought about creating something for yourself or someone else?”

there wasn’t a word to describe the noise that came out of your mouth. was it a nervous laugh? a squeak maybe? you didn’t know, and neither did frankie.

“what?” he asked. “why is that so scary?”

you shrugged as the two of you made it to the workspace. normally, you would start by pulling out the supplies you needed to begin working on the bradshaw piece, but if frankie met you at the door, it was because he wanted to have an impromptu meeting first.

“i feel like i’m good at fixing things,” you said. “maybe not creating something from thin air.”

“you have so much talent,” frankie replied. “i hate to see it wasted on fixing and preserving someone else’s work when you could be doing both. it could be your art that people hang in their houses and pay thousands of dollars to preserve.”

you nodded, but kept your eyes on the table, studying the wood grain and tracing the pattern with your finger.

“i don’t think i’m capable of that anymore.”

frankie reached over and squeezed your shoulder. “just think on it, okay? couldn’t hurt to just think on it.” he walked out a moment later, giving you space and time to queue up music and get started on the day.

you opened spotify and pressed the play button on your liked songs without even thinking about it. not even two seconds later, you regretted your decision. the soft tones and beats of frank ocean’s thinkin bout you echoed through the room and slammed against your chest. you immediately switched the song and found a classical playlist to listen to instead.

but the tune wouldn’t get out of your head.

not two minutes later.

not thirty minutes later.

not after your full eight hour shift spent hunched over your workstation.

not even on the drive home.

frank ocean’s voice permeated every fiber of your being.

it was simone who first showed you the song in high school. you remembered liking the melody enough, but you didn’t get the lyrics. and why would you? you were in love with your best friend who loved you back. even though you were fourteen and too young to even think about marriage, you knew matthew was going to be the person you ended up with. it was him or no one.

and now it was no one.

now, you listened to the song play over and over in your head, the lyrics resonating with you deeper than ever before.

you pulled into your driveway, completely unaware of what cars were parked in the street. they’d never mattered to you before. why would they now?

you sat in your car for a few minutes, taking a deep breath while you worked up the courage to go inside. when you finally got a grip on your emotions, you opened your door and grabbed your bag. you were too busy fumbling with your keys to notice anything amiss until you were on your porch and a pair of shoes came into sight.

“hey.”

it took everything in you not to scream. you dropped your keys and nearly dropped your bag. matthew stood on your front porch with his hands in the pockets in his shorts like he was innocent of any pain or suffering he’d caused you. he was in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and you hated yourself a little bit for thinking he’s attractive like that.

“what’re you doing here?” you hated how hoarse your voice sounded, like a low quality audio recording where things sounded muffled and broken.

“your dad wouldn’t let me in.”

“good.”

matt sighed and ran a hand down his face. “can we not do this?”

“not do what?” you asked. “not act like you ended things for no damn reason?”

“if you—”

“we dated for nearly ten years and you decided to end it over a five minute phone call. and you still think you’re entitled to my time?” and maybe you should’ve been kinder, maybe you should’ve been more civil. but you hadn’t seen or heard from him in months (until a few nights ago) and he just turned up out of the blue? expecting you to do what? forgive him? move on?

matthew said your name delicately, but not in the way he used to, like saying your name was a luxury he was honored to have. no, he said it like you were going to break, like you were fragile, like he wasn’t the sole cause of your pain. “please—”

the anger was draining out of you quicker. you were exhausted between work, and frank ocean’s stupid song, and the other night.

“what do you want?” your voice cracked on the last word. “wanna ruin my life a little bit more? put the final nail in the coffin?”

“no,” he shook his head fervently. matthew took a step towards you and looked something close to devastated when you stepped back. but it didn’t make sense, he ended it, he had no right to look or feel that way. “i just wanna talk.”

“six months,” you said, doing your best to keep your voice clear. “you had six months to say something. what could you possibly have to say now that you couldn’t then?”

“i know we didn’t end on the best of terms—” he started, but it was cut off by your scoff. you turned your head away and used your palm to wipe at your eyes before you crossed your arms over your chest. “—but i don’t think we should let this ruin brady and emma’s summer. we’re gonna see a lot of each other and i don’t want things to be tense around them.”

you took a minute to really look at him. blonde frizzy curls, blue eyes that wouldn’t leave your face. he hadn’t changed one bit.

one summer, you’d attempted to count the number of freckles on his shoulders. you got up to 87 before you gave up.

and yet you felt like you were standing in front of a stranger.

there were so many things you wanted to say, so many things you’d dreamt of screaming at him, but now that he was here, in front of you, asking something of you, you felt drained, tired. you used to crave his presence, now it felt like a leech.

you loved him, but he was sucking the life out of you.

so you nodded. you nodded and said “okay,” before you walked inside your front door and left your heart on the porch.

you pressed your back against the door and slid to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest. there was no telling when you started crying, or when your dad joined you on the floor, hugging you as close to his chest as he could.

“why wasn’t i enough?” you sobbed into your knees.

your dad petted your hair before he pressed a kiss there. “you’re more than enough, honey. but you can’t make anyone love you if they’re not willing to.”

“he used to!” you wailed. “he used to love me!” then, in a smaller voice, “what changed?”

a beat of silence, then your father’s somber, quiet voice. “maybe he did.”

before

“so what are your plans for after high school?” ms. meyer, your high school guidance counselor sat across from you at her desk. her stare was kind, but unwavering.

you’d already applied to notre dame, knowing that’s where matt committed. so when you answered, it was confident. it had been your plan since matt said yes to the school. “i’m going to notre dame and majoring in art history.”

“do you have any back up schools?”

you nodded. “ucla and the art institute of chicago.”

ms. meyer pursed her lips. “you know all of those places are highly competitive, right?”

“my transcripts and resume are impressive and I did really well on the SAT and ACT. i think i’ll be able to get in.” and you were, you were pretty confident as they come when it came to academics. any school would’ve been lucky to have you, that much you believed.

ms. meyer nodded. “i understand ucla and the art institute, both of those schools have incredible arts programs, but why notre dame? it doesn’t seem to fit with your aspirations.”

“oh,” you laughed under your breath. “that’s where my boyfriend is going.”

your guidance counselor blinked. “you’re incredibly smart and gifted, i’d hate to see that talent wasted when you could be developing it elsewhere. what do you want?”

“i want to be with matthew.”

ms. meyer sighed and gave you a sympathetic smile, you weren’t sure why though. you’d never been more sure of anything. “honey, can i be honest with you?” she didn’t wait for your response. “you have so much talent, so much to offer, i’ve seen many girls come in here, putting off aspirations for their significant others only for that relationship not to last.”

“i know we’re young,” you started, already feeling the heat rise up in your chest. she didn’t know anything about you personally, she didn’t know about you and matt. “but we’re gonna make it, i swear.”

ms. meyer nodded. “of course you are.” she cleared her throat and adjusted the papers in front of her. “so, notre dame...”

after

you weren't exactly sure what compelled you to do it, but at dinner a few nights ago, your mom had asked about what happened to simone, your friend from middle and high school. so you reached out, though it made you feel like you were contacting someone to join your mlm.

it legitimately surprised you when simone replied to your facebook message. the two of you made plans to get coffee on saturday.

and now it was saturday.

you weren’t getting coffee until 9:30, but you were awake and staring at your ceiling at 7. you’d done the due diligence of stalking simone’s profile, so you knew she was married with two kids who looked just like her. she worked as a data analyst for kroger and her husband was a public defender. she met her husband in college and they got married shortly after they graduated from grad and law school respectively.

if you were a better woman, you’d admit you were jealous. jealous that she got what she wanted in the end. but when you put that aside, you still felt overwhelming happiness at her station in life, regardless of how yours turned out.

you kept scrolling through her social media until it was eventually time for you to get up. you stayed to facebook, not even wanting to bother with going on instagram and accidentally stumbling across one of the tkachuks’ posts.

it was 9:10 when you finally finished getting dressed and ready. you came down the stairs and threw a goodbye over your shoulder before grabbing your crossbody bag and your keys and running out the door.

despite your sprinting and nearly running red lights, you were still five minutes late. you came into the coffee shop, gasping for air after sprinting down the sidewalk from your parking spot.

the second you entered the business, simone’s hand lifted and she smiled brightly, calling you over almost immediately. she stood to greet you, and like no time had passed, pulled you in for a hug.

“it’s so good to see you,” she said. “wasn’t sure if you still liked an iced chai latte, but i got one for you.”

“oh my god, yes,” you gasped before taking a seat and taking a sip of the beverage.

she kept smiling, which made you feel lighthearted for once. most people kept looking at you with pitying eyes, but simone saw you for more than the grief of the last six months. she had to know about it, she just had to, but you thanked her for not bringing it up in the first minute of your conversation.

“how’s work going?”

you shrugged. “it’s mostly tedious, but it’s been fine. what about you? working for kroger? that’s a huge deal.”

simone shook her head. “it’s just a means to an end, a way i can pay for my family’s lifestyle.”

“but are you passionate about what you do?”

she shrugged lightly. “it’s a job, it’s not my life. not everyone is going to work a job that fulfills them. my husband? he loves being a public defender, and he’s good at it. me though, as fun as analyzing data all day sounds and as helpful as it is, getting to have a job that doesn’t come home with me is probably my favorite part of it.”

you nodded along like you understood. and maybe you didn’t do a good enough job at being convincing because simone sighed.

“i wanted to wait to ask this, but i can’t hold it in any longer. how’re you holding up?”

it took you several seconds to answer her question. your mouth open and closed multiple times. “i— i don't know.” you sank back into your seat and picked at your cuticles. “it’s been a shitty few months,” you admitted. “you’d think i’d be over it by now.

simone shook her head and leaned in, arms braced on the table. “you two were together for a decade, what’s a few months in comparison to that?”

you shrugged. “i saw him the other night, when i went out drinking with the other bridesmaids. it was like, i don't know, i got dunked in an ice bath or something. he looked completely unaffected and i couldn’t breathe.”

simone whispered your name.

“but i’m fine!” you asserted. “i’m trying to be.”

simone nodded. “so what do you do now?”

you could’ve kissed her feet for the change in topic. “i’m working in the art restoration and conservation field.”

simone blinked. “you’re restoring art? do you like it?”

you shrugged. “most days, it can get repetitive, but that’s what i like.”

your friend sighed and fixed you with a soft, sympathetic look. “but is that what you want to do for the rest of your life? restoring someone else’s art? doing something repetitive? you are so talented, i hate to see you wasting that talent restoring someone else’s work.”

“it’s not a waste! it’s incredibly difficult and some things deserve to be preserved.”

“but some new things deserve to be created.” simone leaned in closer, her forearms braced on the table. “i think it would do you some good to start creating something again, even if it’s shitty. and you think you aren’t ready, just try something new. a new bar, a new hobby, a new man, something new.”

your stomach twisted at the thought of going on a date with someone other than matt, but simone was right. it had been six months and he seemed to be doing fine, it was your turn to start moving on, to find yourself again.

so you nodded. “we should do this more often,” you said. “i’ve missed you.”

simone smiled. “i’ve missed you too, i’m glad you’re home.”

you talked for another hour about everything the two of you had missed over the years of you being elsewhere before she had to leave and relieve the nanny at home. simone hugged you goodbye and texted you her new number before she left the coffee shop.

the drive home was quiet because you were pondering the things she’d said. you weren’t sure you were ready for making your own art, you sure as hell weren’t ready to go on a date. but maybe you should try.

maybe you were ready to put yourself first for once.

before

the biggest argument you’d had with matt was after you found out he wasn’t playing at notre dame at all, he was going to play for calgary.

you felt so stupid for committing to that school when you should’ve known your boyfriend was talented enough to skip it altogether. maybe you should’ve taken a gap year, then you wouldn’t have to be doing even more long distance in two different countries.

the two of you never argued, or maybe never was too strong of a word. you hardly ever had a disagreement if you thought about it long enough. most of the time, you suppressed the disappointment and the anger, shoving it to the side because you were surely being dramatic.

but now you were standing off to the side, waiting for your name to be called to cross the stage at your high school graduation, and you wished you’d said something to convince matthew to delay settling into his new calgary apartment with one of his teammates.

but you swallowed your disappointment and pride and just dealt with the fact that he wouldn’t be there.

it was fine.

just high school.

you were snapped out of your reverie when your name was called. you smiled and walked across the stage. when you dreamt of this exact moment, you always thought you’d walk with grace, that all noise would cease to exist as you honed in on the sheet of paper you’d spent the last 13 years working towards.

but it wasn’t like that.

because you heard one specific voice above all the others. as your principal handed you the diploma, your eyes searched the crowd and saw him.

matthew standing up and yelling with his family next to him. he had a sign, the words you couldn’t read because there were tears forming in your water line. he was pointing at you and kept yelling and clapping, hooting and hollering like it was his full time job. your parents were smiling, though they were seated, and your grandparents were stone faced clapping like they were at the masters tournament.

so you kept your eyes on him, even as you walked back to your seat. you might have stumbled, tripped even, but all you could see, all you could feel was him.

you were back in your seat by the time the person calling out the names spoke again.

“please hold your applause until the end.”

you could hear his scoff, even from your seat.

your leg bounced for the rest of the graduation ceremony. you didn’t even register the turning of your tassel. you just couldn’t wait for it to be over so you could be in matt’s arms.

as soon as the ceremony concluded, matt was shoving his way past families, nearly taking out an elderly gentleman in his quest to get to you. on the other hand, you were being pushed to move farther away from him as the procession of students filed out of the gym. you kept looking over your shoulder to find him, but it looked like brady had caught up to him, wrangling his older brother to follow the crowds outside.

“outside!” brady pointed.

you nodded.

as soon as you got through the gym doors, you were booking it outside into the sunlight. it blinded you momentarily, but you whipped your phone out seconds later to see if matt had texted you where he’d be. you pulled up his contact and were seconds away from calling him when arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you up into the air.

a squeal left your lips until he set you down a moment later. you spun around in his arms and before you could say anything, matthew was kissing you like no one else was around.

when the two of you finally needed air, you pulled away. “i thought you were in calgary!”

matthew scoffed though there was a large smile on his lips. “you thought i’d miss my favorite girl’s graduation? calgary can wait, your high school graduation only happens once.”

“i’m glad you’re here,” you whispered.

“me too, baby.”

unfortunately, matt pulled away so you could hug your parents and even your grandparents who were standing off to the side. taryn and brady pulled you into a group hug afterwards, with taryn going on a tangent about all the fun things the two of you would have to do before you left for school.

but brady was taking your graduation cap off your head to ruffle your hair as matt grabbed your purse and took your car keys out. keith and chantal were offering to pay for a celebratory lunch while your grandparents gave an irish goodbye. your parents were smiling, you were tucked into matt’s side, and brady and taryn were bickering and—

everything was perfect.

you wanted to freeze that moment, that sensation in your chest, take the saccharine feeling and bottle it up and store it on your bookshelf.

and if you could’ve, you would’ve savored the sensation of matt’s lips pressed to your temple while both of your dads discussed the best route to get to the restaurant.

but you had no idea how the future would turn out.

you thought matt was forever.

after

you were on a double date, or at least, hyping yourself up to go into the bar and meet up with simone, her husband, and a friend of theirs. you didn’t want to be a bitch, but you also didn’t want to send yourself into a panic attack. simone had suggested just entertaining something with someone, didn’t even have to be serious, it could just be sex.

you could do that, right?

just casual sex?

the thought was nauseating. you’d only slept with matthew, no one knew your body like he did and—

you stopped yourself before you could go down that rabbit hole.

your hands shook as you stepped out of your car and locked it. maybe you should’ve gotten an uber, but then again, you weren’t really planning on drinking like that. you were hoping you’d still be sober enough to go home.

the music in the bar shockingly wasn’t as loud as you expected. it wasn’t the bass bumping, ass grinding bar like the ones matt used to take you to after games. even still, your palms started sweating as you looked around. you spotted simone’s natural hair across the room and made your way towards her.

her husband, stephen, stood to greet you first, followed by simone, then lastly your date. a guy named andrew who was a partner at his firm, the youngest on his team.

his handshake was firm, but there were no calluses on his palm. his hair was slicked back with what you guessed was a pomade.

he was so unlike matthew it was alarming.

but maybe it was for the best.

you smiled and took your seat next to simone, you sipped on the water in front of you.

“we didn’t want to order drinks without you just yet.”

“thank you,” you mumbled just loud enough for everyone to hear.

“it’s nice to finally meet you,” andrew started. “simone spoke highly of you. she said you’ve been friends since middle school.”

you felt bad because simone didn’t really say much to you about him. if you were a gambler, you’d assume it was because she didn’t want you to back out. you barely even knew him and you were already comparing him to matt.

which wasn’t fair, you knew that. andrew deserved to be a human without the baggage of your last and only relationship determining how you viewed him.

you would try, at the very least for simone. at the very most, you’d try for yourself.

“nice to meet you too. i heard you’re a partner at your law firm? how is that going?”

oh god. you were so bad at this. asking about work on a friday night?

but he smiled. his teeth were perfectly straight and white. you'd bet your last dollar that he'd never needed braces, not like you did.

you hated yourself for thinking of the gap between matthew’s teeth.

“it’s going well,” he said. “lot of work, but i managed to get enough done this week that my friday was free. i wanted to meet the ‘best artist on planet earth,’ according to simone.”

“oh i don’t know about that,” you flushed.

simone scoffed. “don’t downplay yourself.” she turned to look at andrew. “you should see the art she created in high school as a teenager. it was so impressive.”

“what medium do you like working with the most?” he asked.

“mostly acrylic.”

andrew’s eyes lit up. “do you have any photos of your art? i’d love to see your work.”

you shook your head, feeling a little embarrassed at all the attention. “i don’t really paint like that anymore. i work in art conservation now, not a whole lot of time to create something new.”

“that’s such a unique career! what does your average day look like?” andrew leaned forward a little and took a sip of his water.

you told him a little bit about what you did. about how you spent hours hunched over a painting and fixing the smallest problems in hopes it would satisfy the client.

“you must’ve gone to some prestigious art school for that. if you don’t mind me asking, where did you go to college?”

your spine stiffened. “university of calgary.”

and just like you anticipated, his face twisted in confusion. there was no logical reason you should’ve gone out of the country for a regular school. it would be one thing if you went to an art institute, but you didn’t.

“why calgary?” he asked. “seems a bit random, if you don’t mind me asking.”

you shifted in your seat and wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. it wasn’t until you cleared your throat in a sorry attempt to get the lump out, that you spoke. “it’s a long story,” you said. “thought i had a future in calgary.”

andrew, to his credit, knew when to not ask questions and changed the subject immediately.

the rest of the night passed in a blur. you were only halfway present, your mind reeling at how you wasted those years in calgary waiting for a man who would dump you as soon as he moved to a warmer state.

he, quite literally, left you in the cold.

andrew offered to walk you to your car, an offer you accepted because it was dark and st. louis.

“i had a great time tonight,” he said. “it was really nice to meet you. you’re even better than simone and stephen said.”

you gave him a small smile. “it was nice to meet you too.”

andrew shifted on his feet. for a moment, he didn’t look the part of the youngest partner at his law firm, he looked like a boy. “i was hoping maybe you’d want to do this again? maybe get some dinner?”

your throat felt like someone had force fed you cotton balls. but then you thought about how pathetic your life had been the last six months, how pathetic it was going to be when you flew to new jersey to be in the same bridal party as your ex.

you refused to be pathetic any longer.

which is probably why you smiled (albeit shakily) and said yes.

before

you were bouncing on your toes in the hallway as you waited for matt. it was a brutal game, and he spent a good portion of it in the penalty box, mostly for minor things, but one incident was for fighting. which wasn’t atypical, but you’d never seen him that keyed up before.

and given his reputation, there were any number of things that could’ve caused the fight itself. two weeks ago, matt had fought someone for being too forceful with one of his teammates, which after years of watching the game, was on par with the sport and your boyfriend.

because he fought so much, you weren’t necessarily surprised whenever he did. sure, you flinched when he was punched, knowing how badly it would bruise, praying to whatever higher power existed that he would still have all his teeth. but usually, matt wasn’t trying to fight everyone on the ice at all times.

tonight was different.

safe to say, you were a little anxious waiting for him to come out.

you weren’t exactly sure about what was said on the ice to get him so riled up. the worst you’d seen was when someone on the other team said something about taryn. you used to think that was the angriest you ever saw him. and it was.

until tonight.

you could feel the energy rolling off of him in waves as he exited the locker room. usually, after a win, matt is relaxed and easy going, but despite the victory from tonight, he was tense and pent up, frustrated even.

“hey,” you said, meeting him halfway.

matthew didn’t respond, just dropped his bag and wrapped you up in a hug, tucking his head into the space where your neck met your shoulder.

“you okay?” you asked.

he nodded. he squeezed your waist once before letting go, taking your hand instead. “ready to go?”

the car ride was silent minus the music matthew had playing through the aux. his hand rested on your thigh, though the grip was particularly tighter than normal, especially after a win. part of you wanted to ask, the other part not wanting to spoil the rest of the night with your curiosity.

but this was the man you loved. and it hurt you to see him this upset.

normally, you would’ve left well enough alone, but you were going back to notre dame in two days and didn’t want to spend the rest of your time walking on eggshells around him. you couldn’t help him if you didn’t know what was wrong.

“what happened?” you asked when the car came to a stop at a light.

“nothing,” he grunted.

“your team won and you’re still grumpy, matthew. so tell me, what happened? i want to help you.”

“there’s nothing to help.”

“matthew,” you groaned. “i’m only here for two days, can you just be honest with me? i don’t wanna waste the rest of my trip with you being upset when i can help you—”

“then go back to indiana!” he all but yelled, ripping his hand off your thigh so he could shove it through his disheveled hair.

your jaw dropped. in all the years you’d known matt, he'd never talked to you that way. and you weren’t starting a bad habit by letting him think he could ever do it again. you unbuckled your seat belt and grabbed your bag. you tugged on the handle of the door. “i’ll see you at home,” you said.

matt scoffed. “don’t be dramatic.”

“i’m not being ‘dramatic,’ matthew. you’re being an asshole.” you braced yourself for the cold as the door opened and let in a cold breeze.

matthew called your name, but you ignored him and slammed the car door shut. it was a little petty, considering how matt had berated his siblings over the same thing.

a car honked, probably because the light had turned green and matt was still sitting at the light, looking at you.

a cold wind blew and for a moment, you thought about hopping back in the car with matt, but he was pulling away and your pride wasn’t ready to take a hit just yet.

his car sped away until, with an efficiency you only wish you had, he parallel parked in a spot just up the road.

“get in the car,” he called, slamming his car door shut. “it’s too cold for you to be proving a point.”

“and what point am i trying to prove, matthew?” you asked over your shoulder.

you kept walking.

“would you please stop walking and just get back in the car?”

you kept walking.

a hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, you might’ve shrieked had it not been gentle, had you not recognized the scent of matt’s cologne.

gently, he turned you around.

“baby, just get in the car. you don’t even have to talk to me. don't even have to look at me if you don’t want to. i’ll sleep on the couch or something, but it’s not safe for you to be walking home alone.” he ran his thumb back and forth over your pulse point in a soothing manner.

you kept your eyes on his hand. “what happened during the game?

he sighed, shoulders sagging like they were tired from carrying the weight of the world. “they were talking shit.”

you blinked. “and that’s different....how?”

with the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, matthew pinched the bridge of his nose. “they were talking shit about you. saying you deserved better and shit.”

“matthew, you know that’s not true—”

“they called you names.” his voice was dark, angrier than you'd ever heard before. “things i’m not comfortable repeating.”

a shiver went down your spine, for matt to be that upset made you uncomfortable. you didn’t want to think about what they said, you didn’t want to dwell on it any longer.

“well,” you said, voice feeling small and weak in your throat. “well, we know it’s not true, so it doesn’t matter.” you tried to make your way back to the car, but matt’s grip on your wrist stopped you.

“but it does matter,” he insisted. “what they said, i get it wasn't true, you and i both know that. but i’m not gonna let anyone talk shit about you, i don’t care who they are.”

your eyes finally met his own and in the blue you saw determination and conviction there. you started towards him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“i love you, matty.”

he kissed the top of your head. “love you more.”

after

“where are you going?” your mom asked from the couch.

your dad looked up from his james patterson book to squint at your outfit: a square neck black dress. “are you going out?” he chimed in.

you felt sheepish, like the fifteen year old girl going on her first solo date, no parents picking her up because matt just got his license. “remember that guy i went on a double date with?”

“with simone and her husband?” you mom asked.

you nodded. “we’re going out again, just us tonight.”

your mother gave you a small smile while you dad kept staring. “have fun, sweetheart.”

your dad, however, put his book down and looked at you above the rim of his glasses. “are you gonna be okay?”

“alan, this will be good for her!”

but your dad’s eyes never left your face. “you’ll call if you need something?”

“andrew’s a good guy, dad.” or at least, you were assuming so. you’d only met the guy one other time and he seemed alright.

but you could see the look in your father’s eyes, you could hear what he wasn’t saying.

so was matthew.

you swallowed and nodded at your parents. your phone pinged with a notification that your uber was outside. “i’ll be back.”

the drive to the bar was silent. usually, you wouldn’t have taken an uber, but you were unsure how drunk you would get tonight. the date could go well, it could be everything you wanted, even if all you wanted was matthew.

but you were prepared for the worst. you were prepared to drink until you couldn’t see straight just to get through the night.

andrew was a nice guy, but he wasn’t who you wanted.

and you hated yourself for it.

the uber pulled up to the bar. and simply because he didn’t kidnap or talk to you, you gave the driver five stars.

andrew was waiting at a high top table for you, a glass of water ready to go. you waved at him and carefully made your way across the room, avoiding people and drinks and people with drinks.

“hey,” he greeted.

you gave him a small smile. “hi.”

“was traffic bad on your way here? i wasn’t sure, given that it’s friday and what not.”

you shook your head. “not too bad.”

c’mon, think of something. say something. anything.

“crazy busy tonight, huh?” you wanted to facepalm. that was what you came up with? all the words in the world and that was what you—

“yeah,” andrew cut off your mental tirade. “i think some famous guys are here tonight, heard murmurs of it.”

you nearly broke out into a cold sweat. “d-do you know who?”

andrew shrugged. “i didn’t ask, i just heard someone talking about it when i was getting a drink.” then, like he finally realized, he snapped. “do you want anything? i can grab it for you.”

you gave him your drink order with a smile. he tapped the table with his knuckles before promising he'd be right back.

you traced the grain of the table with your finger, allowing it to feel the grooves and water stains left from other customers. it felt awkward, sitting by yourself with no one to talk to. andrew said he'd be back, but the bar was busy, it could be ten, fifteen minutes before he'd come back.

your phone buzzed.

simone:

how’s it going?

you smiled despite yourself.

you:

he’s nice. he went to get me a drink.

you put your phone down to look around the bar. it was busier than normal, or at least, what you thought was normal.

you were scrolling through your social media feeds when andrew finally came back. he had your drink in hand with a smile on his face.

“sorry, the line took forever,” he said.

you glanced at the bar to see a small crowd of people. “doesn’t surprise me,” you said. “friday’s are usually busy.”

“yeah especially when there’s two hockey players in town. heard someone at the bar talking about it, thought you might wanna know. simone said you were a fan?”

your stomach dropped to your feet. you took a hefty sip of your drink to avoid andrew seeing a frown on your face. there was a chance that it was a blues player still in town, but your gut knew better. if you were a betting woman, you'd bet your last dollar on it being brady and matt.

you wanted to throw up.

instead, you chugged the drink.

“whoa, you okay?” andrew’s eyes widened a little, maybe in concern, but there was something about the smirk on his face that said otherwise.

you gave him a shaky smile. “just fine. can i get another drink?”

he smiled immediately and got up to get you another.

and another.

your vision was blurring a little when you tried to cut yourself off, even as andrew was sliding another glass in front of you. you threw the drink back again, not even blinking at it.

matt and brady could be here. it was too soon to see them again, you weren't prepared to see them again. maybe if you drank enough, you’d black out and forget all about tonight.

but then andrew was grabbing your elbow, he was leading you towards the door, encroaching upon your personal space. his lips were on your neck, whispers of what he had planned for you.

your skin crawled, you wanted him off of you, but your arms were sluggish, you were tripping over your feet and he was the only thing holding you up.

“no,” you slurred. “lemme go.”

but he either didn’t hear you or was ignoring you because he kept dragging you to the door.

then the panic set in.

it felt like it came out of nowhere, but maybe the surmounting panic was always there like a loyal friend. you tried squirming out of his grip, shoving at his chest, but the panic was building the longer he held onto you. your head was shaking furiously, your mouth doing its best to protest, but it was like the alcohol made your tongue heavy.

“lemme go—” you tried shoving one more time before you heard a shout in the distance.

“hey!” you weren’t aware of the people around you being shoved to the side, you were unaware of the rage surrounding you. you were unaware until andrew was ripped away and you were being shoved into another body.

“matt hey—”

brady. you were right, brady was here.

god you loved brady.

“brady?” you slurred, smiling lazily up at him. “you’re here! why’re you here?”

with one arm, brady kept you pressed to him, but he wasn’t acknowledging you. his eyes were focused on his brother holding the collar of your date.

oh. your date.

there was no rhyme or reason for the feeling of horror that washed over you when you realized what almost happened before matt and brady showed up.

you were gonna throw up.

or pass out.

you weren’t sure when you started hyperventilating, but it felt like the walls were closing in. was the music always this loud? was matt always that loud when yelling? you wouldn’t know, he hardly ever yelled at you—

“hey,” brady’s gentle voice sounded it your ear, but it was like you were hearing it from underwater. “hey, breathe, it’s okay. you’re safe now.”

the funny thing about hyperventilating is no one wants to be hyperventilating. it’s similar to worrying in that telling someone to stop worrying is ineffective. brady telling you to breathe wasn’t helping because it wasn’t like you wanted to be light headed and struggling to get oxygen.

your mind was just racing with the thoughts of what almost happened.

were your hands shaking? or was the world just rocky? was it the alcohol? why did andrew give you so much? was he planning on—

oh god.

“matt!” brady’s voice again sounding like a deep echo in a cave, one you could barely hear. “matt, i think he got the point, she needs you.”

did you?

but it didn’t matter what you thought, because you were being gently pulled into a pair of arms you would’ve recognized anywhere. you could be deaf, blind, and mute, you could’ve had your nose plugged so you couldn’t smell his aftershave and you still would’ve known it was matt. his arms were the only ones that felt like home.

maybe it was the way your head tucked under his chin perfectly, or the way you could hold your own hand when you wrapped your arms around his waist. maybe it was the way matt tried to fit you into his ribcage whenever he hugged you.

“hey,” his voice was quiet, hoarse from the yelling probably. “you’re okay, i’ve got you. nothing’s gonna hurt you, not while i’m here.” his lips were on the top of your head, mumbling the words into your hair.

“he—he was gonna—”

matt was shushing you, running a hand up and down your back. “do you wanna go outside? get some fresh air?” you nodded against his chest, a place you used to lay your head on at night.

matt walked you outside, brady not far behind. he was supporting most of your weight. you were still incredibly drunk even if the event that just happened sobered you up a little.

your hands were still shaking, your knees a little weak, though you weren’t sure what the original cause of that was. if it was from alcohol, the sleazy date, or just being held by your ex, you weren’t sure.

what a year tonight has been.

your heartbeat slowed down as you listened to matt’s. his hand continued to rub your back in long lines.

“you’re okay,” he continued to say. “i’m not gonna leave you. you’re safe right here, baby.”

your heart soared at the pet name until gravity kicked in and you were right back where you started.

rock bottom.

you pushed away from matt, now that your heart rate had decreased. you stumbled a bit from the lack of stability, but you managed to right yourself before matt could get his hands on you to help you balance.

“you okay?” he asked.

“no,” you mumbled, shaking your head despite the world feeling like it was spinning too fast already. “no. i’m not okay.”

matt took a step towards you, it was like watching a film in slow motion, seeing his face fall as you immediately took a step back.

“baby i—”

“stop! stop calling me that!” you yelled even as your words slurred, throwing your hands up in the air before pulling at your hair. “you—you don’t get to call me that, not anymore. and you certainly don’t get to ride in like some white knight coming to my rescue either!”

“what’re you—” he cut himself off before running a hand down his face. “he was going to hurt you, i wasn’t going to let that happen!”

maybe it was the alcohol that made you more honest than normal. “why? you don’t seem to care what happens anyway?”

“what the hell are you talking about? i would never let someone hurt you, not if i can stop it.”

“but you had no problem hurting me? leaving me in a country alone?”

matt’s jaw dropped. “you can’t seriously be comparing the two. he—he almost—he had every intention of—” but he kept cutting himself off. and by the looks of his clenched fists, it was hurting him more just thinking about it.

and he was right, what almost happened with andrew and what actually happened at the hands of matt were two different things, but it hurt more from matt, the man who swore he’d be at your side, to love you through it all. he’d dropped you like a bad habit and was expecting everything to be normal again? like you hadn’t spent over half your life completely in love with him?

you sighed, your shoulders sagged, all fight evaporating your body once more. “thanks for help, i’ll see you around.” you turned on your heel and nearly ran into brady, whom you forgot was even there.

“let me drive you home,” brady said. “‘s the least i could do.”

brady at least let you sit shotgun this time, with matt in the back. and when he pulled up to your house, matt was the one to walk you to the door like he had many times before.

“can we talk?” he asked. “sometime this week? or next? or whenever you're free?”

you looked at him, really looked at him. his hands shook at his sides and you longed to hold them in your own to steady them like he did for you earlier. “why’re you doing this to me? why can’t you just leave me be?”

matt stared at you before he pressed his lips together. he looked off to the side almost like he was looking at brady waiting in the car or a scrap of self control, or maybe just the right words to say. “i don’t think i’m capable of letting you go.”

your voice caught on the words in your throat. “i need you to try, matt. because i can’t keep doing this. you can’t call me baby when i’m not your baby anymore.”

he nodded. “just one conversation, i promise.”

you should say no. you should just let it go, but you didn’t think you could deny matt anything if he really asked for it. “okay,” you said. “just one conversation.”

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl blurb

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magicfootballstuff · 11 months

Text

Best Mate (georgia stanway x reader)

Summary: Georgia is your entire world, the love of your life. But you’re probably never going to be more than just her best mate.

(aka 12k words of angst and pining)

———

You’ve known Georgia since you were eleven.

Thirteen years in which you’ve been the closest of friends, through ups and downs. Thirteen years of playing for the same football teams, of carpooling to training and movie nights after matches and sharing rooms on away trips. Thirteen years, basically, in which you could have fallen in love with each other.

There’s a strange kind of irony, a punishment from the fates, that the first time you start to think of Georgia as anything more than your best mate is about three weeks before she moves to Germany.

You blame the Euros, naturally. That’s where you start to catch feelings. A long pre-Euro preparation camp, followed by weeks of heightened emotions as the Lionesses progress further and further into the tournament. It’s been a bonding experience for you all and you’re far closer to all the girls than you were a couple of months ago, but there’s been a shift in your relationship with Georgia specifically that you can’t quite explain.

It’s after the game against Spain that you first notice it. After coming back from behind, Georgia is the one who scores the winner to send you through to the semi finals and it might be the best goal you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing live. It’s not just the goal - you’ve seen Georgia score screamers from outside the box on countless other occasions in your thirteen years of friendship - but the significance too.

It’s after this game that you actually start to believe you can win the whole tournament, that nothing is going to stop you until you get your hands on the silverware. And that belief starts with Georgia’s goal.

“I fucking love you, G!” you tell her in the dressing room after the game, still riding the euphoric high of beating Spain in such dramatic fashion.

Georgia grins at you.

“I love you too.”

Her words make you feel warm inside but you put it down to being happy about the result.

It’s not until later, lying alone in your bed back at the team hotel, unable to sleep because you’re still so pumped up from one hundred and twenty minutes of difficult football, that you hear Georgia’s words over and over again in your head and realise what it means.

I love you too.

Shit. You’re falling in love with Georgia Stanway. Your best mate.

What a cliche.

But you’ve spent thirteen years of friendship not being in love with Georgia. It should be pretty easy to brush any hypothetical feelings aside. Right?

———

It’s not.

Actually, it turns out that acknowledging you have feelings for Georgia only makes them grow more.

You sit next to her on the coach on the way back from Bramall Lane after beating Sweden in the semi final. Around you, the whole team is jubilant, but all you can think about is how you can smell Georgia’s shampoo and feel the warmth of her thigh pressing into yours.

Shit, you’ve got it bad.

“We’re going to Wembley,” Georgia says. “Can you believe it?”

“Stuff of dreams, right?” you grin at her.

“And I get to do it with my best mate.”

The words ‘best mate’, while true, are like a knife to your heart and you’re reminded that you’ll only ever be Georgia’s best mate.

You try to shake yourself out of it. You’ve been Georgia’s friend for over a decade, you can keep being her friend, no problems at all. Because surely it’s better to be her friend than to risk messing things up and being nothing at all?

Except that she moves to Munich in two weeks. What if she loves it there, what if she prefers her new teammates to the old ones, what if she has such a good time there that she completely forgets about her old life in Manchester?

And you hate yourself for even thinking that. Georgia deserves to be happy. You know how excited she is to move abroad, how much she’s looking forward to the challenge of playing for a new team in a new league after spending so long at Manchester City. As her friend, you want the best for her, you want her to thrive in the new environment and be happy with her Bayern teammates as she settles into life in Munich.

You just hope that she doesn’t forget about you in the process.

“You’re quiet,” Georgia says, drawing you out of your own thoughts. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shrug, then give a half truth.

“Just trying to soak this moment in,” you tell her. “This feels special. No matter what happens in the final, I don’t want to forget the feeling of being part of this team.”

“I’m never gonna forget this,” Georgia says, sinking into your side and when she lets her head fall against your shoulder, you allow yourself just the briefest moment to imagine that she’s talking about this exact moment on the bus with you, not the summer of incredible football. “Would be pretty cool to win the damn thing though, right? One more trophy together before I leave.”

You never want this summer to end. Because as soon as it ends, Georgia leaves and you lose your best mate. You lose the person you’re in love with.

You have a feeling that this moment is going to be one that you come back to over and over again when you’re missing her, and you try even harder to commit every detail to memory.

———

Inevitably, the tournament does come to an end, but in the blur of playing an intense final at Wembley, winning said final, and the celebrations that continue long into the night, you almost forget that this is one of your last nights together with Georgia before she leaves for Germany.

Eventually, you and Georgia find your way back to each other, as you always seem to do. You have no idea what time it is, no idea how many drinks you’ve had, but it’s the early hours of the morning and most friends and family have either left or gone to bed, leaving just the players to continue their celebrations. You can still hear distant music and the occasional shout from downstairs, but you end up on the carpeted floor of a deserted hallway, side by side with Georgia. You’re sitting so close that the thighs of your outstretched legs are touching, and Georgia leans her head on your shoulder. You're holding hands too, though you don’t know who initiates that. Maybe it just happened because it felt right.

“I’m so proud of you, G,” you tell her, tracing your thumb across the back of her hand. “For everything - for today, for everything you did at City, for choosing to take a leap in your career.”

Georgia has hardly spoken about her impending transfer since it was announced, not while she’s been so focused on the tournament, and other than a couple of jokes this evening hoping that her new teammates will still welcome her after beating so many of them today, it’s been easy to pretend that she’s not about to move to another country. But now that the tournament is over, you have to face up to the reality sooner or later that your best friend is about to spread her wings and embark on a new journey that doesn’t involve you.

“Stop it, you’re gonna make me cry. And we’re supposed to be happy right now. We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

“I’m gonna miss you though. Bayern are lucky to have you.”

Your hand is still in Georgia’s, fingers linked together, though you don’t remember how it happened, whether it was you who took her hand or her who took yours. But her skin is so soft, especially on the back of her hand where you trace mindless patterns with your thumb.

“You’re still gonna be my favourite though, you know that right?” Georgia promises you.

“I am?” you ask, turning your head to look at her.

“Yeah, you’re my day one. Even when we live in different countries. I’m still gonna be talking to you every day.”

“I’m gonna be thinking about you every day,” you confess. “Every second, even.”

It’s only after the words slip from your lips that you realise you might have said too much, that you’re getting dangerously close to telling Georgia about the feelings that you promised yourself that you were going to keep secret.

“Yeah?” Georgia asks, her voice barely more audible than a whisper.

And just like the hand-holding, you have no idea who initiates what comes next, you’re just aware that your lips are on Georgia’s, or maybe hers are on yours, but who the fuck cares who leant in first when it feels this damn good.

Her lips are as soft as her hands, softer maybe, and she tastes like a combination of the free beer you’ve been drinking all night and something else, maybe optimism, if such a thing has a taste. But you’re very quickly unable to process much at all, senses overwhelmed, because Georgia is kissing you. Georgia, who you’ve been friends with since you were awkward teenagers with spotty faces and bruised knees, whose kisses are like a drug that you’re surely going to get addicted to because how could you not want to do this forever?

Just when you’re considering the logistics of pulling Georgia into your lap to continue this further, she pulls away from you, giggling as she wipes at her lips with captivating fingers.

“Shit, I’ve had way too much to drink,” Georgia says. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

She leans her head back against the wall behind you both, her eyes closed, and you try to keep yourself together, though your heart feels like a fragile sheet of glass that could shatter under even the tiniest amount of pressure.

“It’s fine,” you tell her, even though your lips still burn from her kiss. Even though you’re probably never going to be the same again. “We’re both drunk.”

———

The next morning, Georgia is wearing the most ridiculous pair of sunglasses you’ve ever seen, so huge that they mask half her entire face, but maybe that’s the intention because when she sits down next to you on the coach that’s supposed to take you to Trafalgar Square, she lets out a groan and says, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungover in my life.”

“I think I’m still drunk,” you admit. Your head isn’t pounding, it’s just swimming, the alcohol not yet worn off out of your system. It’ll hit you at some point today, you’re sure of that, and it’ll be torture.

“Did I kiss you last night?” Georgia asks, pushing the sunglasses up onto the top of her head and frowning quizzically at you.

The way she asks, it’s almost like she doesn’t quite remember, and that stings a little. It’s pretty much the only thing you’ve thought about in the five drunken hours since it happened.

“Oh,” you say, trying to sound just as casual about it as Georgia does. “Yeah. I’d forgotten about that until you mentioned it.”

The lie is easy because there’s no way that you’re going to admit how affected you are by something as simple as the memory of her lips on yours.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Georgia grimaces. “Emotional day, and all that. We’re still cool, aren’t we?”

“Course we are,” you answer, and it’s mostly the truth - Georgia could commit a serious crime and you’d still think she was the best person on earth.

She’s got no reason to know the depth of your feelings for her, no reason to understand that kissing you might have done more damage than if you’d never got the chance to feel Georgia’s lips against yours at all.

———

You decide to confide in Keira.

“I think I’m in love with Georgia,” you confess, during pre-season, still ignoring the rumours that Keira might be moving abroad soon too.

“Our Georgia?” she asks for clarification, as if the idea is so ridiculous that she can’t quite believe what you’re telling her. “Georgia Stanway?”

You nod, and Keira presses on with her next question.

“Have you told her?” she asks.

“Why would I do that?” you scoff.

“Why wouldn’t you? What have you got to lose?”

“Only thirteen years of friendship,” you point out.

“Obviously it’s your decision, but worst case scenario she doesn’t feel the same and things carry on as normal.”

“Worst case scenario I lose one of the longest friendships I’ve got,” you interject to correct Keira.

“G’s not like that though,” Keira dismisses your worries with a wave of her hand. “She wouldn’t just cast you aside because of something like this. Anyway, she’s in a different country now. By the time you next see each other she’ll have forgotten all about it and things will be back to normal.”

“I’ll think about it.”

———

You do think about it. In fact, it’s pretty much all you think about.

One international break passes, then another, without you saying anything to Georgia about how you feel. You’re practically glued to her side for the whole of both camps, or maybe she’s glued to yours, because you somehow seem to end up alongside her even when you’re making an effort to not seem like you’re obsessed with her.

That plan clearly isn’t working, because on the penultimate night of the second international break, Keira brings it up when the two of you are alone.

“You’re not being subtle,” she tells you.

“Huh?”

“About G,” she explains. “If you think it’s not obvious you have feelings for her, you’re wrong.”

“Yeah but I’ve told you,” you point out, in a half-hearted attempt to justify the way you’ve probably been staring at Georgia with huge puppy dog eyes for the last week. “You know what you’re looking for.”

“Have you told Leah?” Keira asks, arching an eyebrow. “Because she asked me yesterday if you and Georgia were closer than usual so she’s noticed something too.”

“What did you say?” you demand, your eyes widening in panic.

“Don’t worry, I told her you used to be inseparable at City and that you probably just missed seeing each other every day. I think she bought it.”

You relax, or at least you try to, because if Keira says it’s obvious and even Leah has noticed your heart-eyes, then it can’t be long before Georgia herself realises, and then she’ll surely want to distance herself from you.

“Just talk to her,” Keira pleads with you. “You’re one of my best mates too and I hate seeing you like this. Even if nothing happens between you and Georgia, at least you’ll get closure by talking to her.”

You know that Keira is right. You’ve known Georgia for so long that you’d like to hope she won’t make things weird if you tell her how you feel and she doesn’t feel the same. You need an answer, so you can get over your feelings if nothing is ever going to happen.

And you fully intend to talk to her on the last night of camp. But you have a game tomorrow so you decide not to say anything for the risk of somehow upsetting the equilibrium of the team, and then before you know it Georgia is on a plane back to Munich while you return to Manchester and still nothing has been said.

Another time.

In the meantime, your heart continues to ache for something you’ll probably never get to have.

———

You’ll tell her when she comes home for Christmas, that’s what you decide. No England camp, no training or matches to use as an excuse for not telling her how you feel. Just two old friends catching up on what’s been going on in their lives - and so what if one of the most important thing that’s going on in yours is the depth of the feelings you currently have for your best friend?

You’re nervous for two full days before you see Georgia, your heart pounding each time you think of the enormity of the conversation you need to have with her. Telling her how you feel could change everything for better or for worse and even right up to the moment when you’re on your way to meet her, you’re still not sure if you have the courage to actually tell her.

You meet Georgia for lunch at Jill’s coffee shop, because Georgia’s only in Manchester for a few days before she jets off to Barcelona to see Keira and she wants to see as many people as she can while she’s back, but once you’ve both shared a bit of playful banter with Jill when she brings you your food and drinks, the two of you are left alone in a quiet corner of the shop.

“I’ve been dying to tell you something,” Georgia says, almost as soon as Jill leaves you alone. “I was gonna text you but I really wanted to tell you in person.”

She loves you too. That’s the first conclusion that your brain jumps to, because you can’t think of anything else she might have to tell you that’s important enough to be said face-to-face rather than over the phone.

She loves you too. She loves you t-

“I’m seeing someone,” Georgia announces.

And just like that, your heart shatters into a million tiny pieces.

She doesn’t love you.

“You are?” you ask, trying not to let the pain show on your face - this is supposed to be your best friend telling you that she’s found somebody, after all, and if you weren’t hopelessly in love with Georgia yourself, you’d surely be happy about this development in her life.

“Yeah, a guy back in Germany. His name’s Nico - he’s one of Syd’s mates so I met him through her. It’s still really new, like he’s not my boyfriend or anything, but we’ve been on a couple of dates and I think it’s going pretty well.”

“Cool,” you say, and then immediately kick yourself, because what kind of heartless idiot says cool when their best friend announces they’re dating someone, which is why you add, “I’m so happy for you.”

There’s a degree of truth to your words. Though on a selfish level you want Georgia to reciprocate your feelings and be happy with you, that’s not very likely to happen when you’re too much of a coward to tell her how you feel and obviously the most important thing is that Georgia is happy with whoever she chooses. You just hope that if it can’t be with you, that this Nico guy at least treats her well and gives her the happiness she deserves.

“Anyway, what’s going on with you?” Georgia asks, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. “Any big life updates?”

If there was ever a moment to tell Georgia that you’re in love with her, it would be now, when she’s inviting you to open up about what’s been going on in your life. But Georgia is clearly excited about this guy that she’s dating, or else she wouldn’t have waited until she saw you in person before making it the first thing she brought up, and what kind of friend would you be if you tried to ruin that for your own selfish reasons?

“Nothing much,” you answer with a shrug. “Nothing as exciting as your news. Anyway, tell me about Munich. Are the German lessons still kicking your arse?”

———

Keira calls you a few days later, when you know that Georgia is in Barcelona too, probably sharing the same news about her dating life with Keira that she told you the other day.

“You’ve seen G, then?” she asks, once you’ve caught up on your own lives.

“Yeah, we had lunch together a few days ago.”

“Did she tell you…?”

“About her new boyfriend?” you interject, completing Keira’s question. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Keira asks.

You can practically hear the pity in her voice and it cuts you almost as much as Georgia’s news about her dating life.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you try to dismiss it quickly, before you end up getting upset, or angry, or both. “She’s happy, that’s all that matters. I missed my chance.”

“Did you ever tell her?”

Keira doesn’t need to elaborate on exactly what she’s asking about and for that you’re grateful.

“No,” you answer. “But it’s too late now anyway.”

“I don’t think it is,” Keira counters. “It doesn’t sound very serious yet with this German guy.”

“Keira, if there was any chance she felt the same she’d have told me.”

“You mean like you’ve told her how you feel?” Keira asks.

Though you can’t actually see Keira’s face, you can picture it, one eyebrow arched at you and mouth twitching at the corners as she calls you out.

“It’s different,” you try to argue. “She wouldn’t be dating someone else if she had feelings for me.”

“Well if you aren’t ever going to tell her, maybe you should think about dating someone else. You know, a couple of the Barca girls are single. If you don’t mind the distance, I could put in a good word for you.”

There’s only one person you’d be willing to put in the effort required for a successful long distance relationship, and it’s Georgia. Besides, while Keira’s right that you’ll have to think about dating someone else eventually, it doesn’t feel fair to mess with somebody else’s feelings before you’ve at least tried to put your feelings for Georgia behind you.

“I’m good, thanks Ke,” you promise Keira.

“Well if you change your mind…”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

———

You don’t change your mind. Not about being willing for Keira to set you up with one of her club teammates, at least. You do, however, reconsider your decision not to tell Georgia about how you feel.

What can the harm be? If anything, the German boyfriend is a safety net because you have less optimism that Georgia feels the same, fully prepared for her to let you down.

You phone Georgia when she’s back in Germany in January, entering the conversation with your heart already wrapped in bubble-wrap, in theory protected from being broken.

“Hey G, are you busy?”

“I’m never too busy to talk to you,” Georgia replies.

Your heart soars, giving you the courage to say, “Cool, well there’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Go on, I’m listening.”

“I was gonna say something when you were back in England but then you … well, you had your news and I didn’t want to ruin that.”

You pause and take a deep breath, glad that you’re doing this over the phone so that Georgia can’t see the sheer physical anguish you’re going through to psych yourself up to tell her this.

“I love you.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then Georgia speaks.

“Aw, you big softie,” she teases you. “Love you too.”

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. Part of you wants to leave it there, the idea of having to correct Georgia’s misunderstanding somehow even worse than having to admit you love her in the first place, but you can hear Keira’s voice in your head telling you to grow a pair and tell Georgia how you really feel.

“No, I … I mean that I love you,” you clarify. “Not just as a friend. Like, I’m properly in love with you.”

“Oh,” Georgia says. There’s silence on the other end of the line as she processes what you’ve told her, before she eventually repeats, “Oh. Shit, okay.”

It’s not exactly the reaction you were hoping for and though you’d prepared yourself for probable rejection, you couldn’t actually have prepared for the punch in the gut that is the pure surprise from Georgia, as if the idea of there being anything more than friendship between the two of you is so far-removed that she’s never once even considered the possibility.

“Forget I said anything,” you say quickly, eager to put this torturous ordeal behind you. “I’m just being stupid. It’s nothing I can’t get over.”

“No, wait!” Georgia blurts out. “It’s not stupid. It’s just … unexpected, I guess. You’ve surprised me, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“No, don’t apologise! I’m glad you told me. The thing is, I do love you too. Just as a friend.”

And despite all the preparation you did beforehand to try to protect yourself from the pain of inevitable rejection, hearing Georgia confirm aloud what you already knew still causes your heart to splinter into tiny pieces.

“Okay,” you say, trying to swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat. “That’s what I needed to hear. Now I can move on. And I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me-”

“Are you kidding?” Georgia interrupts you. “This doesn’t change anything. It takes courage to tell someone how you feel. I’m not gonna punish you for that. Anyway, you’ll always be super important to me. So unless you need a bit of space…?”

“No,” you’re quick to say. “I don’t need space.”

“Then you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon,” Georgia reassures you.

A single tear spills from your eye and you wipe it away quickly, even though Georgia can’t see you, because you’re worried that if you let it trickle the whole way down your cheek, it’ll be followed by a flood. The only thing that could make this more embarrassing that it already is would be if you burst into tears and Georgia heard you crying.

“Thanks, G.”

———

“I hate to admit it, but you were right,” you tell Keira, as you make your way out to the training pitch at St George’s Park on the first morning of the February international break, a few weeks on from telling Georgia how you feel - how you felt. “I just needed closure.”

“From Georgia?” Keira asks for clarification.

“Yeah. It turns out that finding out she doesn’t feel the same was a really quick way to shut down whatever stupid feelings I thought I had for her.”

“I think you’re being hard on yourself. It’s not stupid to catch feelings, especially for someone like G.”

“It was just emotion from the Euros,” you try to explain. “Then the distance. I was missing her. I got a bit carried away, that’s all. Anyway, she’s got her German guy now.”

“Not anymore,” Keira tells you. “That fizzled out a while ago.”

“It did?” you ask, your head jerking up in surprise when you hear the news. “She never told me that.”

“Yeah, well…” Keira trails off with a grimace, and you don’t need her to finish her sentence to understand what she’s saying.

“Right.”

You probably sacrificed your right to hear about Georgia’s personal life when you attempted to insert yourself into it by confessing your feelings for her. And if you’re completely honest, though you still talk to Georgia pretty often, there has been a slight shift in what you talk about, more superficial football chat and fewer deep conversations about all the other stuff going on in your lives.

Not for the first time since telling Georgia how you felt, you wonder if admitting your feelings was the wrong decision after all.

You hear footsteps behind you, the telltale sound of studs against concrete, and you turn to see Georgia, who inserts herself between you and Keira and drapes an arm around each of your shoulders.

“Hey guys, whatcha talking about?”

“The weather,” Keira is quick to save you the turmoil of having to come up with a lie yourself. “Thought it was cold in Barcelona at this time of year but I’d forgotten how much worse it is in England.”

“This?” Georgia scoffs, gesturing at the bleak grey sky above. “It’s tanning weather. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“You’re mad,” Keira says, shaking her head as she eyes up Georgia’s bare arms.

“Not mad,” Georgia counters with a grin. “Just happy to be back in England with my best mates.”

You don’t know how it makes you feel, hearing Georgia refer to you as a “best mate” again. She’s clearly making an effort to make sure you know that nothing has changed, that your sudden confession of feelings a few weeks ago hasn’t made Georgia think any differently of you than she thinks of Keira. But it still stings a little, all those hours spent wondering what if and picturing a hypothetical parallel universe in which Georgia returns your affection coming to nothing.

In the back of your mind, it registers that a public friendzoning shouldn’t hurt if you were as over your feelings for Georgia as you claimed to Keira that you were, but you push that thought down for now.

———

You don’t actually speak to Georgia alone until later, hanging out in one of the communal recreation areas during the free time you get between a gym session and dinner.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Georgia says. “It’s good to be back together again. And we haven’t seen each other in person since…”

Georgia trails off, leaving you to fill in the rest yourself.

Deciding that the best way to get past the slight awkwardness is just to acknowledge exactly what happened and laugh it off, you say, “Since I told you I liked you?”

Georgia’s eyes widen, slightly surprised that you’re so blasé about the situation, but she passes it off quickly and says, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry if I put you in a weird position,” you apologise. “I just needed to say something, even if you didn’t feel the same way, for peace of mind, you know? Just feelings that had been brewing under the surface since the emotion of the Euros…”

“Since the Euros?” Georgia interjects, surprised once again.

“Yeah, but I don’t feel that way anymore,” you continue, fully aware of the fact that your cheeks are starting to heat up with embarrassment. “I got closure and I moved on. I hope things can go back to normal between us.”

Georgia hesitates for a second, like she’s still trying to process everything, before her face splits open into a huge grin.

“Yeah, of course. Nothing’s changed at all.”

You try to remember what normal friends who haven’t admitted feelings for each other talk about, and your mind immediately wanders to the guy she told you about when she was last home. The guy that, if Keira is to be believed, is no longer in the picture.

“How’s it going with that guy you’re dating?” you ask, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from Georgia too.

“Nico? I’m not seeing him anymore. Like he was nice, but he was … I don’t know, he was just nice. There was no real spark, or nothing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

It’s partially true. If you can’t have Georgia yourself, you want her to be happy with somebody, though you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t done some social media stalking after she told you about him and he didn’t seem like anybody particularly remarkable. In a way, it’s a relief to hear that confirmed by Georgia herself.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Georgia says, dismissing your words with a casual wave of her hand. “It wasn’t serious anyway. And I wanted to tell you it was over but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want you to think I was messing with your feelings, or anything.”

“I get it,” you assure Georgia. “But you don’t have to worry about that. There aren’t any feelings to mess with anymore. That’s all behind me.”

Georgia narrows her eyes just slightly, like she’s not quite sure she believes you, but it passes so quickly that you might have imagined it.

“Cool,” Georgia says. “Anyway, did you see that worldie I scored in training earlier?”

And so the conversation moves on, back to normal with your best friend.

———

It does go back to how it was before, for which you’re relieved. Your biggest worry about admitting your feelings for Georgia was that it would ruin your friendship if she didn’t reciprocate, so you’re glad that you’re still just as close as you were before Christmas.

The problem is that now you’re back to talking to Georgia all the time, whether that’s messaging each other, ganging up together on Leah in the group chat, or FaceTiming to have a general catch up about life, you’re starting to realise that maybe you’re not over your feelings for her after all.

Can you really be blamed? Georgia is like a human ray of sunshine, lighting up your world with her silly jokes and beautiful smile, even from another country.

Surely everybody who meets Georgia falls a little bit in love with her?

Still, Georgia has made it pretty clear that your relationship is never going to move beyond friends, and you’re content to have her in your life in whatever way she’ll allow you, even if you’re still harbouring feelings for her.

You don’t tell Keira either. She asks you about Georgia a couple of times, just casual questions in passing which you respond to with reassurances that you’re getting along like old friends again, that her rejection was enough to extinguish your feelings. If there’s one thing that’s more humiliating than admitting to your best friend that you’re in love with her only to be turned down, it’s having to deal with the constant pity of another friend concerned about a possible broken heart. So you tell Keira that everything is fine and she seems to believe you.

It is fine. You are fine.

(And if you tell yourself that enough times, one day it’ll eventually become true.)

———

You have a plan.

And it’s not a plan that you’re making because you’re in love with Georgia. It’s a plan for your best mate who lives abroad and you miss dearly.

So when Georgia’s Bayern Munich team draws Arsenal in the quarter final of the Champions League, you go straight to the airport from training on the day of the match and catch the next flight to Munich to watch her play.

As you sit next to Georgia’s mum in the stadium, who makes a comment about how nice it is that her daughter’s best friend has flown all the way from Manchester just to support her in one game, you try telling yourself that you’re not just here for Georgia, that you know Leah and Lotte and several of the other Arsenal girls and you’ve come to watch them too, but as the game progresses you’re only really watching one person.

You’ve always known that Georgia is good - you’ve played alongside her for more than a decade at England age groups and then at City, watched her put in tackles that others wouldn’t dare to try and score goals from outside the box that would make anybody drool. But there’s a big difference between seeing Georgia play in training or when you’re on the same team as her, and actually watching her play. It’s an exciting match, a close match, with good performances from players on both sides, but you watch Georgia far more than any other players, your eyes tracking her even when she’s off the ball.

Bayern come away with the win, though only just, and you’re already trying to figure out whether you can make it down to London and back in a single night next week for the second leg that promises to be as exciting as the first. For the quality of football, you tell yourself, not just for another chance to see the best friend that you miss terribly.

You watch as Georgia greets the fans, smiling for pictures and signing shirts in the process, slowly making her way along the edge of the pitch until she reaches the area where you are. Her eyes search the crowd, no doubt looking for her mum, but she does a double take when she spots you and you carefully manoeuvre your way forward until you’re close enough to talk to her.

“What are you doing here?” Georgia asks, disbelief in her eyes.

“I’m here to see Leah,” you joke.

“Oh, I’ll just go and fetch her for you then, shall I?” Georgia grins at you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“Have you never heard of a surprise?”

Georgia just rolls her eyes.

“How long are you here for?” she asks.

“Just tonight,” you answer. “I managed to convince Gareth to let me have tomorrow off training so I fly back first thing. I wish I could stay longer, but we’ve got a league game at the weekend.”

“Are you coming next week?” Georgia asks. “To the second leg? At the Emirates?”

“Do you want me to come?”

Georgia nods enthusiastically and says, “Yeah, course I do.” She pauses, then adds, “Only if you want to, though. I know it’s a long way to travel.”

“I’ll be there,” you promise. A wicked smile spreads across your face as you add, “To see Leah again, of course.”

Georgia rolls her eyes and says, “Dickhead.”

“Be nice, Georgia,” Georgia’s mum interjects. “She’s come all this way to see you.”

“Relax, mum, it’s just banter,” Georgia protests. “She knows I love her really.”

Love. That word again. Because Georgia does love you, of that you’re certain, but not in the way you want her to.

But as you look down at your best friend over the barrier that separates the players from the fans, her brown eyes alight and a smile on her face as she stares back at you, you realise that you’ll take Georgia’s love, however much of it there is and in whatever form it comes in, just to see her smile like this.

———

The weather is terrible. Unrelenting rain turns the four hour drive from Manchester to London into a five and a half hour drive with limited visibility on the motorways. The prospect of spending an evening in this torrential downpour for at least the two hours of the match, possibly longer if the game goes to extra time and penalties, is brightened only with the knowledge that you get to see your best friend again just a week after you last saw her.

Unfortunately the game doesn’t go Bayern’s way. Despite bringing in a one goal lead from the first leg, that hard work is quickly undone by two Arsenal goals in quick succession in the first half. You’re largely neutral to the outcome of this game, except that you aren’t because you want to see Georgia succeed, and she seems to double her efforts when Bayern go behind, putting even more into every challenge, every pass, determined not to lose.

You’re kidding yourself if you think you’re a neutral fan in this game because when the final whistle goes and the Arsenal fans start celebrating a hard-fought victory, your heart aches for Georgia and what could’ve been. But Georgia is a ray of sunshine, even in defeat, and still makes time for all the fans.

When you finally get to see her, inside the stadium after she’s showered and changed out of her wet kit, you’re actually more disappointed than she is about the outcome of the game.

“That’s football, isn’t it?” Georgia says with a shrug, after you’ve exchanged a long hug and offered her your commiserations. “Thanks for coming down though. It’s good to see you again. I missed you.”

Her words make your heart flutter and you play it off the only way you know how - with humour.

“It’s only been a week, G,” you remind her, rolling your eyes.

“A week is a long time when we used to see each other every day,” she points out.

“And whose fault is that?” you tease her.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Georgia rolls her eyes at you. “What are you doing now?”

It’s already late and the drive back to Manchester will be a long one so as much as you want to hang around and cherish every moment with Georgia, you know you need to get on the road soon.

“Gotta drive back home soon,” you tell her.

“To Manchester?” Georgia asks her eyes wide. “Nah, no way I’m letting you drive back through the night, especially not in this weather.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Georgia interrupts you. “I’ll text you the address of our hotel and you can stay with me. Drive back in the morning.”

You’re supposed to have training in the morning and you don’t want to imagine the trouble you’ll get yourself into if you don’t show up. But this is Georgia, and is a bit of a telling off from the coaches not worth spending a bit of extra time with her? Besides, can you not just set an early alarm and drive back home straight to the training ground in the morning? You’re not needed until ten anyway…

“Fine,” you nod, trying to pretend that the decision was harder than it actually was, pretending that you wouldn’t jump off a cliff for Georgia with very little hesitation if she asked you nicely enough.

———

Georgia meets you in the lobby of her hotel just over thirty minutes later, already dressed in pyjamas with a battered pair of sliders on her feet. She grins when she sees you and reaches straight for your hand, not even bothering with a proper greeting.

“Come on,” Georgia says, dragging you into the lift and pressing the button for the fifth floor. “Before anyone sees you.”

The lift doors rattle shut and it starts to rise. You turn to Georgia and ask, “Is this gonna get you in trouble?”

Georgia grins at you, then replies, “Only if we get caught.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, so loud that Georgia must be able to hear it echoing around the confined elevator too, and you’re not sure if it’s racing from the thrill of trying not to get caught or because Georgia’s hand is still in yours, her warm palm pressed against yours and your fingers tangled together.

Does Georgia even realise that she’s still holding your hand, or the effect that it’s having on you? Because it’s pretty much all you can think about as the lift ascends, your heart hammering away until the rush of blood in your ears is so strong that you might faint.

The lift can’t reach Georgia’s floor soon enough, but eventually it does arrive and the doors slide open with a soft ping, and then Georgia is dragging you along the carpeted hallway until she reaches the door to her room.

“Shhh,” Georgia hisses as she unlocks the door, ushering you inside as she finally lets go of your hand. “In you go.”

You enter Georgia’s hotel room and she closes the door behind the two of you. It’s a pretty standard room, a large double bed in the middle, a tv screen hanging from the wall beside a door that leads to the adjoining bathroom. Georgia’s suitcase is open on the floor, a few clothes strewn across the floor and the chair in the corner.

“Do you want a shower to warm up?” Georgia asks you. “I can lend you some spare clothes to sleep in.”

“Yeah, sounds nice,” you nod, shivering as you’re reminded that you’re still wearing your rain-soaked clothes from earlier.

Georgia kneels beside her suitcase and rummages around in it until she pulls out a spare pair of shorts with the Bayern logo on them and an oversized t-shirt, which she passes to you as she stands up again.

“Spare towel is on the rail in the bathroom,” she explains. “Pass us your wet clothes when you’ve taken them off and I’ll hang them up to dry.”

You smile your thanks and wander into the bathroom, turning on the hot water of the shower before stripping out of your wet clothes. Wrapping a towel around yourself for warmth and modesty, you open the door just wide enough to pass your clothes through to Georgia, who promises to hang them up by the radiator to dry overnight, before shutting yourself in the bathroom and stepping into the shower to warm up.

You spend longer than you probably need to in the shower but the warm water cascading over your head is more than welcome and it gives you time to think. To think about the fact that you’re here in Georgia’s hotel room, about to spend the night in her bed, wearing her spare clothes, when you should really be halfway up the motorway back to Manchester right now.

For some reason, your conscience warning you against this appears in the form of Keira’s voice.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Keira’s voice asks you in your head. “You’re still trying to get over her. Is this really going to help?”

“It’s fine,” you whisper aloud into the empty bathroom, your words masked by the sound of water hitting the tiles. “We’re just friends and that’s fine.”

It’s far from the first sleepover you’ve had with Georgia. You’ve known each other for well over a decade and spent your teenage years sleeping over at each other’s houses gossiping and giggling well into the night until a parent came in to hush you and urge you to get some sleep. You’ve shared rooms on countless camps before, during tournaments with England or on away trips with Manchester City. And since growing up and getting your own places, there have been movie nights that ended late where it was easier for one of you to stay over instead of driving back late.

In short, you’ve shared a bed with Georgia many times before.

You haven’t shared a bed since you realised you had feelings for her last summer, and definitely not since you admitted those feelings a couple of months ago.

But if Georgia’s comfortable with it, then you shouldn’t have a problem either.

You finally get out of the shower, when you’re completely warmed through and your fingertips are starting to shrivel from being under the water for so long. You dry off and change into the clothes borrowed from Georgia, then spend a bit of time drying your hair with a towel and brushing your teeth using the spare hotel-issued brush still in its plastic wrapper, before you eventually unlock the bathroom door and return to the bedroom.

Georgia is sitting upright in bed looking down at the screen of her phone, bathed in the yellow glow of the bedside lamp. She glances up when she hears the bathroom door open and smiles, whether at the sight of you in her clothes or some other reason, you’re not quite sure.

“You still like to sleep furthest from the door, right?” she asks, shuffling across to leave plenty of room for you in the bed beside her.

“You gonna protect me from intruders?” you tease her, as you clamber into the empty side of the bed.

Georgia is a few inches shorter than you, but you’ve seen the way she tackles on a football pitch and you have no doubt that she’d do better in a fight than you.

“Course I will,” Georgia grins back at you. “Ready for bed? Can I turn the light off?”

You nod and settle yourself down, adjusting the pillow and pulling the covers up over your shoulders as you roll onto your side. Georgia flicks off the light, then there’s some shuffling on her side of the bed, before you both fall still.

With your eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness, you can’t actually see Georgia more than just a shadow on her side of the bed, but you’re pretty sure she’s lying on her side facing you.

And that’s when it truly hits you. You’re sharing a bed with Georgia, close enough to touch her, close enough to be able to hear her breathing, but knowing that you can’t do anything about the ache in your chest.

You have no idea how you’re going to calm your mind or your heart enough to be able to fall asleep tonight.

You shiver - whether that’s because you’re still cold or for some other reason like Georgia’s proximity - but it’s enough that she notices.

“Shit, are you still cold?” Georgia whispers into the darkness.

“No, it’s fine,” you say, but your body betrays you again with another shiver.

“Come here,” Georgia says, though it’s her, not you, that closes the gap between you, shuffling her body closer until she can wrap her arms around you and pull your body against hers. Your feet intertwine at the bottom of the bed, hers warmer than yours, though she makes no complaint. “Nothing warms you up like a little cuddle.”

It’s not just a little cuddle though. This is a cuddle with your best friend who you’re more than a little bit in love with, who is kind enough to let you stay here despite the fact she could get in trouble, who has lent you her clothes and let you use her shower and now offers her arms to keep you warm. Your best friend who can surely now feel as well as hear the pounding of your heart as you nestle your body against hers beneath the covers.

Your eyes have started adjusting to the darkness and now you can see how close her face is to yours, your foreheads separated by barely an inch, and she’s staring right back at you, her warm breath hitting your face with each exhale.

“G…”

You breathe her name into the space between your lips, ready to tell her that you can’t do this, ready to admit that you still have feelings for her and that you need to leave, drive back to Manchester even though it’s the middle of the night and you’ve got no dry clothes, because otherwise you might do something that you regret.

But you don’t get the chance to say anything, because suddenly Georgia’s warm lips are on yours, soft and unmoving and so incredibly tentative, but also so right.

She lingers for a few seconds, then pulls back, her chest rising and falling more deeply than before with each breath, as she asks, “Sorry, I … was that okay?”

“You shouldn’t kiss me if you don’t mean it,” you say, just about ready to combust into tears, such is the intensity of the feelings overwhelming your entire body for the other girl.

You don’t know what to expect from Georgia, but it’s definitely not what she says next.

“And what if I do mean it?”

Her voice is quiet, her words cautious. You’re so used to Georgia being her usual loud and effervescent self that you barely recognise the tone of her voice, but she sounds almost vulnerable.

“I’m so far gone on you, G,” you admit. “I thought I could get over you but I can’t. I need you to know that you could shatter my heart and stamp on all the tiny pieces and I’d still want to be yours. And if there’s even the smallest part of you that doesn’t mean it, then we should forget that ever happened and…”

You don’t get to finish your sentence because Georgia’s mouth is on yours again, hotter and more insistent this time. You gasp as she kisses you and her mouth opens too, her hand coming up to cup your jaw as her tongue swipes past your lips. The sound you let out is involuntary and you would be embarrassed, if not for the fact that you can’t think of anything except Georgia - her lips on yours, her body wrapped around you, her hands burning your skin.

Eventually, breathing becomes a necessity and Georgia must agree because she pulls back, though only far enough to lean her forehead against yours as she says, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You think?” you ask, needing Georgia to be absolutely certain before you let yourself hope.

“I’m pretty sure,” Georgia corrects herself. “I’m still figuring it out but I’ve been thinking about it ever since you told me you liked me, and then when you showed up in Munich last week to surprise me … nobody’s ever done something like that for me before. And I can’t imagine anyone else making me feel the way that you do. You’re so much more to me than just a best mate. You’re … you’re everything to me.”

“Do you really mean it?”

Georgia nods.

“Whatever I have to do to convince you I mean it…”

“Just hold me,” you tell her, pushing your body further into hers and nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck.

“Just hold you?” Georgia asks, her hand squeezing your hip, and though you can’t see her face, you can picture the smirk on her face anyway.

You lift your head and use the element of surprise to roll Georgia onto her back, trapping her against the mattress with one of your legs framed on each side of her hips.

“You’ve got other suggestions, have you?” you ask her, raising your eyebrows at her as you sweep your damp hair out of your face.

Her hands settle on your hip tentatively, like she knows what she wants but isn’t quite sure yet whether it’s okay.

“I’ve got some ideas,” Georgia admits, fighting off a mischievous smile.

“Yeah?”

You lean down, still hardly able to believe that this is Georgia telling you that she loves you, that she wants you in the same way that you want her, as you press your lips to hers again. You hope that you’ll never get tired of kissing her because each time feels more magical than the last, as you slowly get used to the way that her lips move, to the things that make her breath catch in her throat as she kisses you back, and you know that there’s a whole other side of your oldest friend that’s now open for you to get to know and explore.

It would be so easy to get carried away, especially when Georgia’s hands, already dangerously low on your hips, start to slide lower, but there will be plenty of time for that, you hope. You’ve waited long enough, thirteen long years, for this to happen. You can wait a little longer.

You reluctantly detach your lips from Georgia’s and settle back against her side, one of your legs slung over her hips and her hands coming up to wrap around your back as you lie half on top of her.

“Another time,” you tell her, as you let your eyes flicker shut, knowing that sleep will be easy to come by with Georgia’s arms around you.

“That’d better be a promise,” Georgia murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You don’t say anything, just laugh softly, and snuggle into her until sleep takes you both.

———

You wake in a different position, spooning Georgia from behind, but no less content than you were when you fell asleep. Georgia is still fast asleep, body rising and falling with each deep breath, and you manage to carefully extract your arms from around her so that you can reach for your phone on the bedside table to check the time.

You let out a soft groan when you see the time because you’re supposed to be at training in Manchester in less than two hours, and as perfect as last night was, finally getting an admission from Georgia that she feels the same, you now have to deal with the consequences of staying overnight in London instead of driving back home last night after the match.

You slip out of bed as quietly as you can, intending to go into the bathroom to call Gareth and give him some kind of made up excuse about why you’re not going to be at training. Something that doesn’t involve having to admit that you prioritised a girl over your career, even though Georgia is so much more than just a girl and last night will hopefully be the first of many that you get to experience falling asleep in her embrace, but you’re not so sure that your manager will understand or approve.

But before you can make it as far as the bathroom, you hear a sleepy voice from behind you.

“You’re not sneaking out on me, are you?”

You turn to the most adorable sight, a sleepy Georgia rubbing at her bleary eyes as she pushes herself up onto one elbow, her hair sticking up at an awkward angle on the side she slept on.

“No, of course not,” you promise her. You hold up your phone and explain, “I just need to make a call. I’ve got training today and obviously I’m not going to make it.”

“Come back to bed,” Georgia pleads with you.

“One sec,” you say, calling Gareth and lifting your phone to your ear as you sit down on the edge of the bed.

When it rings through to voicemail, you’re a little relieved that you don’t actually have to talk to him in person, and you wait for the tone before leaving your message.

“Hi Gareth,” you say, deliberately rasping your voice as you try to sound as sick as you possibly can. “I’m really sorry but I don’t think I’m going to make it into training today. I’m not feeling well and I’ve already been sick once this morning. Sorry again. I’ll catch up with you soon when I’m feeling better. Bye.”

You hang up and toss your phone aside, ignoring the amused look on Georgia’s face as you get back under the covers.

“Pulling a sickie, eh?” she teases you.

“Shut up,” you grumble, though you still cuddle back into Georgia’s side, tangling your legs together beneath the covers once more.

From this close, you’re taken aback by just how pretty she is. Not that it’s the first time you’ve thought that, but seeing her like this, still slightly heavy-eyed from just waking up, looking back at you with adoration mirrored in her dark eyes, and being able to take it all in without having to worry about whether you get caught staring at her, is brand new. And with whatever limited time you have left before you inevitably have to get up and leave the blissful sanctuary of Georgia’s bed, you just want to kiss her, to feel her body against yours so that you have something tangible to remember this by when she has to go back to Munich.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask.

“You don’t have to ask.”

“I do,” you insist. “Because I can’t believe that last night actually happened. I’m still kinda waiting for you to tell me it’s just a prank.”

Georgia presses forward and her lips meet yours. It’s slower than the kisses you exchanged last night before bed, but you sigh happily into the kiss and bring your hand up to cup Georgia’s cheek. She lets out a little noise that you capture with your own mouth as your fingertips brush against a sensitive spot just below her ear and you make a mental note to revisit the spot later, perhaps with your lips and teeth instead, and vow to find every other spot that makes her whimper and melt into putty.

You make out for a while, a lazy exploration of each other’s mouths without any real destination. Having spent at least the last eight months dreaming of getting to spend quiet mornings in bed with Georgia, kissing until it’s hard to tell where you end and she begins, you’d be quite happy to keep doing this for the rest of eternity, but she eventually pulls back.

“I wish I didn’t have to go back to Germany,” Georgia says, echoing your own thoughts.

“But you love it there,” you remind her, trying to be the voice of reason, even though you wish you could both just exist in the cocoon of this hotel room for the rest of time.

“I love it here too.”

“Here being…?”

“With you,” Georgia clarifies, and your face cracks open into a big grin.

“Didn’t know you were so soppy, G,” you tease her.

“Neither did I. I guess you bring it out in me.”

“Charmer,” you say, snuggling into her shoulder and sliding your hand under the hem of her t-shirt so that your fingertips can brush across the skin of her hip bone.

“We should really get up,” Georgia says, though she makes no move to do so.

“Five more minutes?” you ask, nuzzling your face into Georgia’s neck and pressing your lips to her pulse point.

“Go on then. Five more minutes.”

———

It’s another twenty minutes before you eventually drag yourselves out of bed, which means you have to rush to get ready and any chance you might have had to slip out of the hotel before any of Georgia’s teammates see you is ruined when you hear a knock on the door.

You’ve redressed in last night’s clothes, now mostly dry, and grab the last of your things as Georgia opens the door, revealing three of her teammates standing out in the hallway.

“Breakfast?” they ask her, before three pairs of eyes look past Georgia and fall on you, slipping your feet into your trainers.

“I should go,” you say, checking your coat pocket for your car keys and wandering over to where Georgia stands at the door once you’re satisfied you’ve got everything. “Text me when your flight lands.”

“I’ll text you before then,” Georgia says, her hand coming up to rest on your waist as she tilts her head up to press a sweet kiss to your lips. It’s far more chaste than the ones you shared last night and this morning but it’s still enough to draw some sniggers out of her teammates.

“Bye,” you whisper against her lips as you pull away.

“Love you,” she says.

“Love you too.”

As you leave the room and walk down the hall, you can hear Georgia’s teammates starting to tease her loudly behind you, and you enter the lift fighting off a smile that has everything to do with the development of your relationship in the last ten hours.

———

Luckily you don’t have to wait long to see Georgia again because just a few days after the Champions League match, she returns to England for another Lionesses camp as you prepare for the Finalissima against Brazil.

Naturally, you smuggle Georgia into your room almost as soon as she arrives on camp and spend the night trying really hard to keep your hands to yourself, because you’ve waited so long for Georgia to be yours that you’re determined to wait a little longer so that your first time together isn’t at St George’s Park while your teammates are trying to sleep in the rooms on either side of yours. But you settle for kissing her heatedly well into the night and waking up with her head resting on your chest and one of her arms draped around your waist.

You’re in such a good mood when you go down to breakfast on the first morning of camp, that you completely forget that nobody else knows about the new development in your relationship with Georgia. Specifically, you forget that Keira, who knows pretty much every other up and down of the last few months, doesn’t yet know that Georgia reciprocates your feelings.

You sit at your usual table for breakfast, Keira opposite you and Georgia setting her tray down next to yours.

“I’m just gonna get some juice,” Georgia says. “Do you want some?”

“No thanks,” you reply, taking a sip from your mug of coffee.

You watch as Georgia wanders over to the jugs of juice, your gaze following the swish of her ponytail before dropping to appreciate her legs and the shape of her butt in her training shorts. It’s only when Keira kicks you under the table, hard enough to surely leave a bruise on your shin, that you snap out of your trance.

“What?”

“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?” Keira hisses across the table.

You pause for a second, glancing between Keira and Georgia, who is on her way back to the table with a glass of orange juice, and then you laugh. You can’t help the way that it spills from your throat because Keira is looking at you like being in love with Georgia is the worst thing in the world, and while it might have been painful a week ago, you don’t know how to begin to explain that in the space of just a few days it’s become the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

“What did I miss?” Georgia asks, as she returns to the table and sits down beside you. “What’s so funny?”

“Keira thinks I’m in love with you,” you explain.

Keira’s eyes widen, and now that you’ve got over the initial surprise of her question, you start to wonder if you can have a bit of fun before actually telling her the truth.

Georgia is clearly thinking the same, because she nudges your thigh with hers and says, “Aw, you love me? That’s lame.”

Keira looks even more panicked - understandable given that she’d probably expect Georgia to be a little more considerate towards your feelings if she didn’t reciprocate.

“Can we talk after breakfast?” Keira asks. “Because I’m worried about you. I thought you’d…” Keira’s eyes flit across to Georgia, then back to you, giving you a deliberate look as she says, “… you know.”

“You thought she’d moved on?” Georgia fills in the gap. She puts down her fork, then reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together and resting them on the table where Keira, and anybody else, can see. “Fat chance of that. She’s obsessed with me.”

Keira looks more confused than ever, and you realise that you probably owe her an explanation.

“G’s my …” You pause, realising that while you’ve both admitted you love each other and there seems to be an understanding that you’re together now, you haven’t actually had a conversation to put an official label on what you are. You turn to Georgia and ask, “Are you my girlfriend?”

“If that’s your way of asking me, it’s not very romantic, is it?” Georgia teases you.

Rolling your eyes, you turn back to Keira and say, “She’s my girlfriend. We’re dating.”

To emphasise your point, you bring your joined hands to your lips and press a kiss to the back of Georgia’s fingers.

Keira’s eyes look like they might pop out of her head at any second.

Leah sits down in the empty seat beside Keira, taking one look at your joined hands, before she says, without a hint of surprise in her voice, “You two have finally got your shit together, then? About bloody time.”

“How are you not more surprised by this?” Keira asks Leah, apparently exasperated by the new development. “I’ve spent months listening to this one,” she jabs an accusatory finger in your direction, “whine on and on about how much she loves Georgia and how Georgia is never going to love her back to the point where I’ve genuinely had sleepless nights worrying about it, only for them to hard launch their apparent relationship by rocking up to breakfast and just holding hands like it’s completely normal!”

Keira is usually so cool and composed, even when under stress, that it’s weird to see her have an outburst like this, but she’s the only one who knows the extent of how much your feelings for Georgia not being reciprocated until now has really affected you over the last few months, and for that she deserves an explanation.

Georgia leans closer to you and whispers, “Babe, I think we broke Keira.”

You’ll have time to process the way that Georgia’s use of the pet name babe makes your heart do an actual somersault in your chest, eager to revisit the subject later, but you probably owe Keira an explanation before she actually combusts.

“I love her,” you tell Keira and Leah. “And it turns out G loves me too, it just took her a while to figure it out. But we’re serious about giving this a go. It’s brand new, which is scary and exciting, but…” You turn to Georgia now, almost forgetting that the others are here too as you get caught in the adoration in Georgia’s eyes. “But she’s my girlfriend, my best mate, the only person I’ve ever felt like this about. So yeah, I’ve been a bit of a mess over the last few months trying to get my head around what I felt for her. But she’s worth it. You’re worth it, Georgia. And I’m lucky I get to call you mine.”

Your words come from the heart and it feels for just a second like the two of you are caught in your own little bubble of blossoming romance.

That is, until Leah bursts it by sarcastically saying, “Well thanks guys, I really didn’t want to keep my breakfast down this morning.”

It doesn’t matter if Leah ruins the moment. You’ve waited for Georgia for far too long to care. And as the news of your relationship filters through camp until the rest of the team knows, met with some surprise, some cries of “I knew it!”, and plenty of teasing, the only thing that matters is Georgia and the fact that you finally get to call yourself hers.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #georgia stanway x reader #georgia stanway imagine #angst

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most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer · 1 year

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Good Omens: Lockdown and Crowley not mentioning his living situation in S2*

*till S2E6 when he asks if he can have his apartment back bc he's bored of living in his car but Aziraphale doesn’t hear bc mentally he’s in Alpha Centauri.

Having read the 'Crowley doesn't tell him' Neil Gaiman ask close to when I first listened to Lockdown (I lived under a rock until recently), my initial thought was HAS HE BEEN LIVING IN HIS CAR FOR YEARS?! but I think he was still in his apartment in 2020:

as far as Hell knows, Crowley just had a pool party in holy water (the holiest) so the higher-ups are probably willing to give him some space (plus Beelzebub is busy going on pub dates w Gabriel)

while there should be ~8 months between the end of Season 1 events (The Very First Day of the Rest of Their Lives on Sunday, Aug 25, 2019) and the Lockdown phonecall (on or near the 30 year anniversary on May 1, 2020), I can't imagine that's a very long time for Hell, especially if you're understaffed and busy dealing with fallout from Almostgeddon / going on pub dates

Shax dropping off mail and asking about the boiler seems like something one does in the first few months of living somewhere, not ~3 years in (if S2 is in 2023)

That said, I think the phone call underlines why Crowley never directly tells Aziraphale that he is living in the Bentley in S2, and it's just a great conversation (all hail Gaiman) sooo I wrote about it:

***Note: This post analyzes the Lockdown phonecall from Crowley's perspective only. Our heroine is feeling quite emotionally vulnerable at this point in time so things are going to hit him harder than they normally would.

I do not think Aziraphale meant to cause him pain (!!) but Crowley can't see that yet and I've written this post in a way that reflects that missing insight. (I explain in more detail in this reblog if you are interested) I am working on a companion post for Aziraphale's side of this conversation and how I think it affects his behavior in S2 because if we know anything about these two, it's that their exactlys are different exactlys.***

Crowley’s habit of sleeping to skip time like an RPG character by a campfire amuses me to no end, but in this context it feels heavy. Crowley already worries about losing time with what he loves and he probably hoped things would be different between him and Aziraphale after the events of S1. But things don’t change much. Then lockdowns start, and Crowley is trapped in his apartment alone, transcendentally bored, and unable to make his brain shut up. Sleeping a month away starts to sound less awful.

But Crowley hasn’t given up yet; he’s still awake when Aziraphale calls, and he’s even giving it two more days. Was he waiting for Aziraphale to call? Is it even possible not to at least kind of wait for someone’s call when you are cut off from everything and the caller has been your only friend and crush for millennia?

Aziraphale asks why Crowley isn't "out and about" tempting people or setting a bad example and he responds:

C: Everyone's so miserable and cooped up right now anyway, and I just… well… don't have the heart for it. A: *glowing audibly* I'm not miserable~ C: Really?

Crowley sounds genuinely surprised at Aziraphale's happiness and quickly assumes it's because the angel has been around people. He's so lonely/depressed/in his own head that he hadn't even considered someone enjoying being 'cooped up'. *sob*

Aziraphale goes No actually I put the closed sign up in the window and I'm having the Time of My Life, never had so few customers, not in 200 years!, etc. Although, he says:

A: …There were a few young lads a couple of nights ago who broke in through the back and tried to steal the cashbox! But they soon saw the error of their ways~ C: *clearly amused* Did you smite them with your wroth? A: Well I certainly gave them a good talking to, and I sent each of them home with cake~ C: *annoyed, swooning* Cake? A: Quite a lot of cake, actually. C: *physically ill from having such a giant crush on this dumbass baker/security guard* eeeekkkgghhh I'm gonna regret asking but.. ...rrgh.. *30 seconds of Aziraphale joyfully describing his baking while Crowley probably tries very hard not to imagine the angel eating each item in sensual slow motion* I stg you can hear him struggling in the background once or twice

A: …And once I've baked them, I have to eat them all myself, which was why I was so delighted— C: To send your burglars home laden with baked goods, yes, nnyeaayeah I follow…

Crowley interrupts, finishing Aziraphale's sentence in his nervous hurry to say the next bit:

C: *loud inhale* You know, I could.. hunker down at your place. … Slither over and watch you eat cake. I could bring a bottle--a case of… something… drinkable…?

He's trying to sound so casual about it but this is someone who was rejected/abandoned by actual literal God after asking what he thought were welcome, uncontroversial questions. Asking makes him vulnerable. He's supposed to be the rescuer, not a demon in distress. He does not feel casual about asking.

Crowley knows it's unlikely but he's so miserable and desperate for company that he can't help but ask, just in case. Even the smallest chance of spending time trapped indoors with Aziraphale—with nothing to do but drink, watch him eat, and talk about things they'd normally avoid—is too tempting.

A: *panicking* Oh I— I— I— I— I'm afraid that would be Breaking All The Rules! *nervous breathing* Out of the question! I'll see you… when this is over. C: Right. gnnehh. I'm setting the alarm clock for July. Good night, angel. *dial tone*

And just like that, Crowley doesn't need two days to decide. The depression nap doubles in length. He doesn't hear how badly Aziraphale wants to say yes behind the fear, or maybe he does and it hurts worse because why isn't Crowley enough for him? You can almost hear the spiralling:

SHOCKING, asking made it worse. It always does doesn’t it? Why even bother? you just embarrass yourself.. SLITHER over? why did I say that *grumble grumble* of COURSE His Holy Holiness, your only friend in the universe, would rather eat cake by himself while everything goes to shit than ~deign~ to have you in his presence. "AsK aND yE sHaLl ReCeIvE" bugger this for a lark im going to bed

(a bit dramatic but we've all been there)

I imagine sleep doesn't come right away. Maybe his thoughts drift to when he sat beside the angel at a dark Tadfield bus stop after a rather eventful Saturday. Crowley must've felt a tiny bit hopeful when he invited Aziraphale to stay with him: Heaven had withdrawn its favor and the bookshop was gone; Aziraphale was like him now. Didn't that mean things would change?

"I don't think my side would like that." Apparently not.

In the end, Aziraphale did ride the bus back to Crowley's apartment and stayed till the next morning when he caught a cab, but only to sell the illusion. Crowley understood that as far as sides went, the angel was still on Heaven's, even if Heaven wasn't on his.

And now this: the entire world is shut down; there is nothing for Aziraphale to do but stay in and read and bake in his magically reconstituted bookshop and he still won't invite Crowley in. Burglars and un-fallen angels only—nobody who asks questions.

So... of course Crowley doesn't tell Aziraphale when he loses his apartment. He already knows what answer he would get; the angel has told him so many times. Aziraphale is a company man first, a companion to one very sad owl when convenient.

If Crowley works up the courage to say 'please take me in, I have nowhere else to go' and Aziraphale goes 'sorry, no, far too political, but I WILL risk being erased from the Book of Life to protect this nude amnesiac former coworker who always hated me,' it's going to be too much. You can't sleep long enough for that type of hurt to go away. Better not to say anything.

"Then nothing has to change, does it?"

#edited to add the note about crowley's perspective right after the cut! apologies if it seemed anti-aziraphale before!#good omens meta #good omens lockdown #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorcees #i can't even imagine navigating the pandemic brain scramblies while pining THAT HARD #Aziraphale is a company man (gn) but i think S3 will cure him of that #long but if i can't write essays about this on tumblr then where #good omens spoilers

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tarjapearce · 1 year

Note

Could you elaborate more about the fight Miguel had with your family that was mentioned in the soccer family proposal imagine?

Ayyy! It's the perfect chance to get the angst out of me jsksj. And of course, no relationship is perfect 💔.

What caused the fight Pt3

Gabriel's eyes settled on the both as you entered Miguel's apartment. Solemnity and listless faces dragged inside.

Gabriel was as perspicacious as his elder brother. A habit rubbed on him through the years of sharing the apartment and drunk in mezcal and tequila talks.

You were teary eyed, unable to look him for more than a couple of seconds before acknowledge him with a lip tight smile and follow Miguel to his room like a scolded puppy. The room felt smaller, crumpling around you, almost suffocating. A couple of your belongings scattered around the place.

So far the only indicators that a woman occupied a spot in his life. Silence felt so deafening it crawled and bit on your tremorous skin. Dread had made itself comfortable in your guts along anxiety ever since you left your old house. Cause you'd certainly wouldn't able to call it home.

And after all these years the little to no improvement had only made you oath to yourself that you'd stay as far as possible from them.

You'd notice the white of his knuckles gripping so tightly at the wheel, that when you tried to get a hold of his hand, his hand recoiled from yours. An appalling contrast from hours ago where he'd held you and gave gentle touches to ease and relief your nerves.

You had warned him, and still the both got burned. Him specially. It felt like the person you had as a mother figure was doing it on purpose to upset you and him.

It couldn't be that bad between the both, right? If he was honest, at first he thought that nothing but a small fight had ensued and that you were a little immature about it. But as your relationship kept growing you'd tell him just the highlights of your mother's behavior.

Something that he actually related way too well. He knew that speaking of your family was still a sore point, something you were treating with therapy.

"What's wrong, Miguel?"

"Nada." (Nothing)

"Mentiroso. ¿Qué te pasa?" (Liar, what's wrong?

Silence. You were done with it.

"You haven't spoke much ever since we got back from my old house. You're not... even looking at me!"

"Your family thinks I'm a freak."

You frowned and shook your head.

"And I apologize for that. I warned you about them-"

"Thanks for the fucking late warning"

His massive back heaved with subtle anger as it turned to you. His hands in his waist.

"Miguel..." Your eyes went wide at his words, head buzzed with his hurtful words.

"I bet you didn't even tell them about me."

His accusing tone was certainly tugging too hard at your heart seams. "I barely keep communication with them, Miguel. You out of everyone knows it!"

"Are you ashamed of me?" His self doubt threw daggers at your heart with each syllable that formed the question.

"W-What?"

"¿Qué no oyes? Te avergüenzas de mí o qué?! (Didn't you hear, are you ashamed of me or what?!)

"Le bajas a tu tono que no eres mi papá. No le permití jamás levantarme la voz para que tú lo hagas ahora." (Chill your tone down, you're not my father. I never allowed him to do so for you to come at me like that now.)

"And now you're scared of me"

"Listen to yourself, Miguel! Pull your head out of your ass for a second and listen to how you're talking to me! Haven't I been there for you and with you since last year?"

Gabriel gave a silent whistle as your fight grew loud enough for him to hear everything outside Miguel's bedroom door. He retreated to his room out of politeness.

"Yeah, we've been-"

"Then why you act like I'm being a burden to you all out the sudden? Why are you acting like I'm the one that hurt you?! You know that I'd never do that!. I'm not my family, Miguel."

Your voice cracked.

He shook his head. He had seen the way everyone stared at him when he tried to open the beer with his teeth. Fearful, disgusted.

The exact way he was looking at you.

To say it hurt was an understatement. He was deliberately prying open your chest and ripping your heart out while showing off and marveling at the process of such act.

"You... You don't wanna be with me anymore?"

The question sent a painful jab to his chest, but his wounded ego had taken all the controls on his rational side.

"Maybe it's time for you to get someone that's fucking normal. I'm clearly not. So why staying?"

A hiccup.

"Because I love you, you fucking idiot!"

A sob, and his heart sunk deeper.

Apologize. Now.

His mind chanted but his pride joined in the maneuvering of his spilled and jagged emotions. Adding more dry bones to the fire.

"But clearly this... this isn't working out, isn't it?"

"Clearly."

Your head nodded as your arms braced your quivering form. A meek protection from his cutting words.

"Sorry to have wasted your time then." You spoke in between angry sobs as you removed the necklace he once gifted you and shoved it back to his hand.

His bottom lip pursed as he saw you picking up the little traces of you in a haste. He went for your shoulder gently.

"Mira, yo-" (Look, I-)

You recoiled away from him as silent tears kept rolling down your face. Some watered the carpet underneath your feet.

"You've said enough."

A way too polite 'Don't Touch Me"

You picked up your things in your arms, messily. The room was clutching at your throat, cutting bit by bit your breaths, but Miguel's indifference was the one that made your head spin from the sudden lack of air. He was killing you with his suffocating coldness.

You hadn't mind the little brostbites he'd gave you, but this one had been too bad for you to keep holding it up. The burn had been too much. Too fast and too deep for you to properly process. All you knew is that you needed to get out.

Now.

Bundling up the things in the cardigan, you went out his bedroom's door.

Stop

His steps followed you, but this time he was the one unable to catch up. You were already closing the main door with a quiet close.

His hands trembled as they found their way on each side of his hips. Gripping and provoking enough pressure to at least feel a fraction of the pain he just put you through.

The necklace in his hand still warm. His own heat dulling yours. Just like your smile. Just like you. Just like every damn thing that made him feel good and happy.

Self sabotage was his best trait. Something he clearly forgot to warn you. But it was late.

The texture of the metal chain crunched underneath his fist.

Too late.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#Pre Soccer Family ⚽🕷️#miguel o'hara angst #t writes✨

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poisonous-honey · 8 months

Text

Soul Crushing Guilt

(This is a re-upload: Originally posted to UniverseUchu on December 2nd, 2022)

You've treated them all like toys. In your defence this was just another video game to you a couple of weeks ago, but they're actually real with thoughts and feelings of their own. You don't know how to feel.

Who’s Here! Venti

Contains: isekai reader, Self Aware Genshin (not the Cult SAGAU), Insecurities (reader), Hurt/Comfort I guess it’s called

Note: I will say this takes place in the middle of a story, but it works on its own and I really liked how this turned out. I do have more written, but it's incomprehensible (even after a whole year it's still incomprehensible lmao)

Sitting on the cliffside of Starsnatch is not where you intended to be at this time, but your guilt and insecurities have led you here. You needed to be away from all the positivity from everyone in Mondstadt. Their kindness was only worsening your mood. Staring over the edge, lost deep inside your head, you almost miss the way the wind whirls around you before you hear the one person you wanted to avoid the most right now.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Why’d you leave without saying anything? Everyone back at Mond is worried, you know.”

You don’t say anything in response and let Venti walk up and sit next to you. You both stay silent and watch the waves crash onto the beach. Venti occasionally takes glances in your direction, but for the most part his eyes are on the scenery. After a few minutes, he tries asking you again.

“I know you told us that we aren’t overwhelming you, but please, if we actually are-”

“That’s not the reason I left Venti.”

“Then what is it?”

Silence is all that greets him. “Please, we just want you to be comfortable with us. We can’t help if we don’t know.”

Hearing him say that only makes you feel more guilty. They’re all so nice to you, and for what? The pressure and the guilt keeps building and building the more you stay here. Everyone’s been so understanding and kind, but all you’ve done before is use them any which way. You’ve judged them for superficial reasons and have even gotten them killed on numerous occasions. Venti showing up and putting the blame on himself and the others like they’re the reason you left just adds onto your shame as tears start to escape your eyes.

Upon seeing your eyes water, Venti slightly panics. “W-Wait, why are you crying!? I’m sorry for whatever-”

“Venti please stop.”

You turn to look Venti in the eyes, and see the panic and worry etched onto his face. It only makes you feel worse.

“Venti… Why are you here? Why do you keep following me?’ You look away from him, trying to keep from balling on the spot. ‘Why are you so nice to me?”

Hearing this, Venti’s face slowly scrunches in confusion. “What do you mean? Of course, I’m going to be nice to you. Where is this coming from?”

“You were conscious the entire time I was playing. I used you all like you were dolls for my amusement. After I got you, didn’t you feel like I was holding you captive or-or like some sort of toy forced to do my bidding? I don’t understand why no one hates me! I feel so guilty of everything I’ve said and done, but everyone’s apologizing to me like they’re in the wrong, and I don’t get it! Especially you! As the God of Freedom, don’t you hate me for taking away your own freedom from you? I just don’t understand… So why…” Unable to continue, you look away as you try to wipe your eyes and wait for Venti to finally tell you he hates you. That he’s going to stop pretending and get up and leave you alone. In your mind you know he would never, that's not who he is, but fear and anxiety is irrational.

Your breath hitches as you feel his hands land on your cheeks and turn your head to look at him. Instead of the disgust or apathy your heart was expecting, Venti’s face is filled with sorrow.

“I can’t believe you would think so low of me.’ He looks downwards and wipes away a few tears with his thumbs before looking back at you with nothing but care. ‘I guess from your point of view that’s a reasonable assumption to make, but you seem to be forgetting one key detail.”

You stare at him as he proceeds to give you the smuggest look you’ve ever seen on him. “I came home extremely early on my banner, didn’t I?”

What he’s saying doesn’t make any sense to you. He’s already treating you extremely differently than you anticipated, and now his question is putting your already malfunctioning brain into overdrive. What did his banner have to do with anything?

“What? Venti I-I don’t understand. What are you trying to…’ Finally, it all starts to click into place as your eyes widen, and his stupid grin gets larger. ‘You… Did you influence the banner wishes???”

Venti laughs joyously as he lets go of your face. His eyes sparkle like he’s recounting the best moment of his life.

“Why yes, I did! I actually got in a lot of trouble for that! It's part of the reason you lost the next 50/50, but I couldn’t miss the chance to join your team. I refused to wait another second.”

“But why? I still don’t under-”

“I have the freedom to make my own choices, do I not? I wanted to join your team, so I did.”

His expression changes from smug to such a soft look. You have a hard time believing it is being directed at you.

“Why, yes, I may be the God of Freedom, but I’m also simply one of the many characters this game has to offer. I’m one of your many characters in particular. And out of such a colourful cast of individuals, I was your favourite. To be the reason someone even downloaded our game in the first place sends me over the moon. For everyone else, you still give their lives a purpose and have earned everyone’s respect. Sure, you might be a bit crass, but even when you were rude or made a mistake, you still treated everyone with more care than necessary. I especially could feel and hear the level of adoration you had for me through the screen. To me, there’s nothing I want more than to travel by your side for as long as you’ll have me.”

Such a heartwarming and earnest speech from Venti has your eyes start to water again. Not all of your insecurities and guilt have been lifted, you don’t think that kind of guilt will be something you can get rid of, but with Venti here…

“You’re allowed to stay for as long as you want.”

He cups your cheeks again while looking straight into your eyes.

“Then till death do we part, my dear player.”

You break down and cry as Venti pulls you in for a hug. With Venti by your side, you know he’ll help you through your guilt with as much care and love as you’ve given him.

#sagau #self aware genshin #Venti x reader #Genshin x reader #x reader #self-indulgence ftw baby #I don’t know if I’m going to post more of this #If I am I’ll make a header to organize just a little bit #I really love what I have #but I’d need to heavily edit it because what I actually have written down is nigh incomprehensible #Pois.Posts #Pois.Writes

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asvterias · 5 months

Text

𝖫𝖺𝗓𝗒 𝖣𝖺𝗒 & 𝖫𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖲𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗌 ~ 𝖣𝗂𝗈𝗋 𝖦𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇

dior masterlist

warnings: none!!

pairings: dior goodjohn ✘ black!fem!reader

genres: reader is an excellent baker, dior calling reader mamas (OMFG- 😩) cocky!dior, reader is VERY squeamish around snakes, gym!dior (JUST BCS), just cute sweet fluff between reader & dior, dior’s fans LOVE the couple

summary: spending a lazy day with your actress girlfriend while sometimes being involved on an instagram live is your favorite way to bypass quality time. wanting to help soothe your girlfriend’s stress from the production of her first song, ‘Focus’, so you decided to bake dior’s favorite cookies.

word count: 4.5k+

tag list: @addil244 @onxlyficcharacter @wtafaidh @mymyapplesigh @444-polar @sinmalssimp @silent-phantom120 @glwmcres @f4riedimples @babyzzlove @lov3rgirllll

author’s note: kinda a self-indulgent fanfic ngl. also if dior says she doesn’t like fanfictions about her, then i will delete this. i don’t wanna overstep any boundaries and make her uncomfortable.

Being bored in your house alone wasn’t as entertaining when you actually had the energy to make it enjoyable. Your parents and older brother had gone out for the day and your little sister, Leah spent the afternoon with her friends Walker and Aryan. Unfortunately, Dior was unable to keep you company as well, tending to her schedule. Since your girlfriend was occupied at the studio with the producers, practicing for her new hit single ‘Focus’, she couldn’t just ditch and be with you. She had her own life, consumed by other priorities that didn’t involve you.

Now, you weren’t an actress like your sister and girlfriend, yet you had a decent lifestyle despite Dior trying to spoil you endlessly with gifts from famous name brands.

Dior Goodjohn, there were so many words to describe her. Beloved multi-talented actress, who’s been a doting affectionate girlfriend of 2 years and overall a great girl in your life.

The car ride to your girlfriend’s apartment was a simple 30-minute drive and the entrance into her apartment was even easier. For your 1st anniversary gift, Dior gave you a spare house key, trusting you enough with that, telling you to come over whenever. She didn’t mind your presence beside her as she always admires your surprise visits.

It was her with the suggestion of you two living together, but neither of your parents ever allowed it, considering you’re still minors. Although you two were disappointed in their final decision, the couple made the extra effort and hosted as many sleepovers as possible.

Deciding upon doing an Instagram live whilst you waited for your girlfriend to arrive back home. Supposedly, she was busy with her first new single on the way called ‘Focus’ and you understood everything. The late nights returning back home, her exhausted state, all of it, you witnessed and supported her all the way. Whenever Dior needed you, you were there at her beck and call, helping her relax when the impending stress became too overwhelming.

An hour ago, she had sent a text, reassuring you that she’ll be home soon. By the time she’d reached home, it’d been almost nightfall, the evening disappearing.

Once you’ve started the live, you greet the fans with a quick wave and smile, observing the number of fans joining your live. At first, you didn’t keep the conversation short with them, updating them on your whereabouts.

Walking into the kitchen, you took the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies and grabbed the materials needed. Tending to the chocolate chip cookie dough as you silently read over the simple recipe placed on the counter.

Just in time, there was loud shuffling heard outside the front door and you squealed in excitement. Your beloved girlfriend had finally reached back home. Dior has been consumed at the studio, all with the anxious release of her first new single ‘Focus’. Sometimes your girlfriend invites you over to the studio to preview her song with her and honestly share some helpful insight on it.

When she walked into the apartment, her tensed shoulders relaxed and her droopy eyes lit up at the sight of you. There you were in all your glory; her beautiful girlfriend to the rescue, providing her that gorgeous smile and unlimited cuddles of comfort. She’ll always cherish her moments with you, no matter how long time will grant. Closing the door and locking it behind her, she sends you a cheery smile, discarding her bag on the floor.

Very tiredly, she staggered over to the kitchen where you were.

“Hey mamas,” She greets you, eagerly accepting your inviting hug, giving you a soft short kiss on the lips.

“My wifey is back home!” You grinned, shoving her presence in the camera, hugging her tightly.

“How was your day?” She asked.

“So boring until you arrived.”

“Hey guys,” she waved with phone in hand and her other hand still wrapped around your waist, keeping you secure in her grasp. You felt the beads of sweat on her forehead, cheeks flushed and her breathing seemed erratic. Her outfit was quite appealing to the eye, wearing a black Nike gym outfit and the kitchen light glared onto her toned stomach, causing you to be flustered.

Probably just redressed in her backup gym clothes and finished a late-night gym workout to help ease her worries. She always did so whenever her nerves got the better of her.

Often, she’d be gym buddies with Charlie but not tonight, looks like she wanted to be alone.

“Go take a shower,” you whispered in her ear, scrunching up your nose when she boops your nose, “You’re all sweaty and shit.”

“I was planning to.”

You nodded assuredly and released yourself from Dior’s hug, watching your girlfriend leave the kitchen, heading to her bathroom to take a nice shower. Staring at her figure until she disappeared behind the door, your back facing the camera and you redirected your attention back to the live.

For the time being, you comfortably sat on the kitchen counter, gaining a sudden sweet tooth, and munched down on the chocolate chips while answering the viewer’s questions. After you got a toothache from the sweetness of the chocolate chips, you balanced it out with warm water. Suddenly you gained the random urge to bake cookies, rather than continue your process of it. For some reason, you started creating the cookie dough, but ultimately got distracted and impatient…and also bored of doing so. As a matter of fact, you remembered snacking on the chocolate chips and answering questions on your live not even 30 minutes ago. You shake your head at the recent memory, amused by your own tactics, and now determined to surprise your exhausted girlfriend with a hot batch of delicious cookies downed with a fresh glass of milk.

Everything about this was the perfect timing. To help soothe your girlfriend and impress her fans with your amazing baking skills. Mostly, it was to help your stressed girlfriend.

You leaned forward, one hand still holding the mixing spoon, and squinted your eyes as you read a live comment, “Where is Dior right now?”

“Ummm….she’s in the shower because she just recently reached home.”

That statement sparked brand new questions for fans to ask:

‘Do you like Dior’s body build?’

‘Are you two gym buddies?’

‘Bet you absolutely love seeing Dior work out! 😉’

‘Where’s your little sister Leah??”

“Of course I do, everything involving Dior I’m obsessed with! Absolutely not, I can’t work out to save my life, and no I’m not my sister’s bodyguard!” You chuckle, applying the dry ingredients into the mixing bowl.

‘What are you making?’

You showed the camera the mixing bowl filled with raw cookie dough, which lacked the chocolate chips yet.

“Chocolate chip cookies, they’re Dior’s favorite,” You said, “She’s such a sweet tooth.”

@: ‘Aww, Y/N’s soo sweet.’

@: ‘Wish I had a gf to bake my favorite treats!’

“Good thing, Dior always has a spare chocolate chip bag around here.” You bite your lip, “Just need to get my hands on them.”

Deeply invested in your baking, you didn’t recognize how quickly time passed by when Dior appeared behind you, instantly going for your warm touch. She inhales your scent, hugs you from behind, and peppers your face and neck with innocent kisses, enjoying the erupting giggles from you.

“Never mind you guys, Dior’s here.”

Your head sashays with every movement making your braids tickle her skin lightly.

Paying no attention to her presence, you stirred the pot listening to her low humming while rocking you side to side. These were the days that Dior loved, a chance to catch a breather and soak in relaxation days with you.

Her eyes analyzed the Instagram live on your phone.

“Where did you hide the spare chocolate chip bag?”

“Like, I’d tell you,” she scoffs, “Last time I told you where I hid the chocolate chips, I heard you in the middle of the night, snacking on them. We had an unprepared visit to the dentist the following morning and we both know you hate going to the dentist.”

“That was an inconvenience!”

“No, No! That was karma, I warned you multiple times to not eat so many sweets at one time. You’re just a stubborn girl.”

“Yeah, and so what I’m your stubborn girl,” You leaned closer towards her, noses hovering over the other as you stared into each other’s eyes. “Which makes me your problem!”

“Oh, you’re a problem, alright.”

“Yeah, your prettiest problem too!”

She huffed as you consistently pestered about the other hidden bag of chocolate chips, finally being convinced by your whining. You beamed in excitement, gripping the fresh bag as you sauntered back over to the mixing bowl.

Another buzz feed of comments was spiraling your girlfriend’s way.

@: ‘The cutest couple to ever exist!!’

@: ‘Couple goals fr!’

@: ‘How long have you and Y/N been dating?’

Dior informs them, “We’ve been dating for 2 years, our anniversary is coming up soon.”

“What you gonna get me?”

“It’s a surprise, my love.”

“I do love surprises,”

“I know you do.”

“Just don’t pop up with no snake.” You said, your sweet tone disappears.

“Someone popped up with a snake thinking it’ll be funny.” You referred to Dior with an unimpressed look.

“Update it was.”

“Show up with a snake again, and I swear someone is getting punched.”

“You wouldn’t punch me, my face is too pretty for that kinda damage.”

“Well, I’m obviously not punching the snake!”

“You wouldn’t punch me.”

“If you bring a snake I just might,” Obviously, you were kidding. You’d never do that to your sweet beloved girlfriend.

She frowns slightly, rethinking her upcoming words.

“Last time it wasn’t funny! Everyone knows I don’t fuck with reptiles, especially snakes.”

“That just means she likes you!” Dior insisted.

“I don’t care, that goddamn yellow snake can like me at a safe distance behind a glass cage at the petting zoo!” You shout, “Either that or nothing!”

“You guys see what I have to deal with on a daily,” Dior points to you, sarcasm laced in her tone, “Such a drama queen.”

Nodding along to your girlfriend’s statement as you applied the chocolate chips to the batch of raw cookie dough.

“Yet, she loves this drama queen,” you retorted.

Dior scans some more of the fans’ comments.

@: ‘DIOR PLEASE POST THE SINGLE OUT NOW 🙏🏾🙏🏾!!’

@: ‘OMG HOW IS FOCUS GOING??’

@: ‘CAN WE GET ANOTHER TEASER??’

“Sorry guys, I already said when Focus is getting released and unless you’re my girl, you don’t get a preview.” She confirms with the viewers, “Also it’s going really well.”

@: ‘Omg they’re so cute, it’s not even funny!’

@: ‘When will this happen to me??’

@: ‘How was the preview Y/N??’

“It was fucking awesome,” you answered the last commenter, “Like her voice is so beautiful, like I fell in love with her a million times over again, it’s completely outrageous.”

“We can’t wait for you guys to hear it!” Dior cheers.

“All of your ears will be certainly blessed after hearing her magnetic voice, I know I was.” You agreed.

“Aren’t you quite the flatterer.”

“I’m just being a supportive girlfriend who’s always honest with you.”

“Never said I didn’t like the compliments,”

“Baby, can you preheat the oven to 350 degrees for me?” You gently asked her.

Dior remained quiet, complying with your request, walking to the oven, and preheating it. She skipped back over to you, arms wrapped around your waist, continuing to hug you from behind, gazing at you. You started to ball the cookie dough, your tongue sticking out slightly in concentration as the silence in the atmosphere was turning palpable.

“Why are you so quiet?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, turning to the curly-haired girl, pausing your movements.

“Nothing…it’s just you’re so beautiful.” She murmured, taken away by your beauty. “Gimmie a kiss…” she puckered her lips, leaning into you.

Instead of giving in to her demands, you swipe a decent amount of remaining flour on your finger, smearing it across your girlfriend’s cheek.

“Did you just—?” her eyes widened in shock, glancing at the flour placed on her cheek.

“I did!” you giggled, applying another ounce of flour on her other cheek, “And I’m not even sorry,”

@: ‘You can’t tell me they aren’t in love, like just look at them!’

“You’re lucky you’re so cute and adorable,” she pouts, swiping an ounce of flour on your nose.

“Not the only reason you’re letting me off so easy,” you whine as she places her head into the crevice of your neck, still placing tiny kisses there.

Her voice was muffled. “We can always order in, you know that, princess.” you turned off the stove, leaving Dior’s fingers lingering on your stomach.

“I know,” you sigh, turning around to face your girlfriend and her hands immediately redirect on your waist. you tried to avoid eye contact, in hopes of getting your point across without being distracted but her hazel eyes remained on you. “I just wanted to do something special for you cause you deserve it and I wanted to help brighten your day.” Finally, you manage to gaze into Dior’s eyes only to find her already admiringly staring back.

You never took in her outfit, eyes slowly trailing down at her body. She wore a white Nike sports bra with gray shorts and her hair was still damp from the shower.

You didn’t realize you were checking her out until Dior pointed it out.

“Gorgeous, my eyes are up here.” She teases, chuckling slightly at your reaction towards her clothing.

“I don’t need a fresh pair of my favorite cookies to know that you love me. Just you being here brightens up my day and I want you to know that.” her fingers glide over your cocoa-brown skin, drinking in your skin tone with her delicate touch. “I appreciate every single thing that you have to offer, because, believe me, I’d be a damn fool if I ever let you go.”

You chuckle and caress her face, slightly stroking her cheek. “I love you so much, Dior.”

“I love you too, mi amor.” she leaned in for a kiss and you complied, making her hum and deepen the kiss. completely mesmerized by the passionate kiss, you didn’t react when you felt two arms lifting you by the thighs, throwing your body onto her shoulder like you weighed nothing. She patted your hips twice, turning to the phone and sending the viewers a wink before carrying you over to the couch.

“No!! Babe, Dior…put me down!!” you mercifully pleaded with your girlfriend but it was rendered useless when she finally dropped you out of her hands…and right onto the couch which was nearby. The Instagram live was able to see you two, only at a farther distance.

You end up lying upside down on the couch as your braids hang over the floor and your legs dangle in mid-air. Dior’s laughs fill the atmosphere and the butterflies flutter in your stomach, due to slight embarrassment and amusement.

“Alright jokes over, help me up now, Dior.” you held out your hand, eager for reliance.

“Oh no, that’s the oldest trick in the book. I’m not gonna fall for that one.”

You roll your eyes, pulling yourself up using your elbows as support, and hastily grab her shirt and pull her down with you. A shocked gasp left her lungs as she tumbled down beside you and once she’s recovered from her fall, she turned to look at you.

With your hand still gripping her shirt, and instead of another sudden ambush, you pulled her in for a soft kiss, gently pecking her lips and giving her the widest grin you could’ve displayed.

“Now we both know that you could do better than that.”

Your harsh grip on her sweatshirt loosened, and this time Dior leaned in and kissed you tenderly, highly content that you reciprocated the action back. The brunette pulled away, “Great, now can we order in? You know, you’re my girl and all, who I wholeheartedly adore, but I don’t want to be sick for the rest of the week.”

You feign shock, shoving her in the stomach as she dramatically acts being hurt, clutching onto her stomach, and falling on the floor. You were truly offended at your girlfriend’s words while she just laughed boisterously.

“I could so cook!” You argued.

“I love you gorgeous, but no you can’t.”

You throw the couch pillow, hurling the item towards her face. Much to your dismay, Dior’s reaction time was faster, stretching a hand out to block the flying pillow and catching it.

“Guess you’ll be on a kissing ban.” You cross your arms and twist your nose in the air.

“No, I won’t.”

She stood up menacingly, stalking closer towards you, making you look at her and unfurl your folded arms.

“Oh yes, you will,”

“You’re gonna seriously ban me from your kisses all because I said you’re a horrible cook.” Dior defends herself, “You’re an excellent baker now.”

“I’m petty as hell, don’t forget it.”

“I thought you meant pretty as hell,” Dior smirks.

“That too!”

“You bet your ass you are.” She pinches your thigh.

“Wow, thanks for the compliment, d,” You roll your eyes.

“No problem, princess.” she kissed your knuckles before trailing up your arms and halting at your collarbones, “You drown in my compliments, and I love to see it.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” you murmur, a fond smile tugging at the ends of your lip.

Her hot breath fanned over your ear. “Come on, babe.” she groans against your skin, pressing a chaste kiss behind your ear, missing the way you squirmed lightly from her ticklish lips. Her energetic eyes met yours once again as she spoke, “Let’s order takeout, Chipotle, your favorite, it’s all on me.”

“How can I say no to that?”

She shifted her weight from you, allowing some space since she was lying on top of you, making you escape much easier from her embrace.

Keeping you on her watchful gaze, you venture to the dining room table to retrieve the Chipotle menu.

“Or how can you see no to me?” She states when you returned back to the living room.

“Real smooth, Goodjohn.” your sentence rolls off your tongue with ease. You swore you witnessed Dior shudder at the sultry tone of your voice, mentioning her last name. The vulnerable sight of your cocky girlfriend made a smile widen across your face.

“Isn’t that how I’m dating you? You were swooned by my alluring charm?!” she questioned, staring at you, curious for the answer. “Or unless,” she gasps shockingly, causing you to resist the temptation of rolling your eyes, “You’re only with me for my body and popularity,”

“No no you were a sexy dumbass and I was your smart savior,” you reaffirmed her accusations. “You being an uprising celebrity is just one of the many advantages,”

“Whatever, you fell for me and my charms, regardless,”

You huff, crossing your arms as you avoid Dior’s gaze. “I like you because of you,”

“Damn right you did,” she pulled you in closer by the waist, “And I know you wouldn’t change me for anything.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” you scoff.

“Oh but I love it when I’m right,” Dior chuckles, bringing your lips onto yours, pouting slightly when you refuse the kiss. “Makes me feel like I’ve beaten you at something,”

Her mood brightens when you change your mind, settling for a quick peck on the lips.

Anything was better than nothing, Dior supposed, but then immediately disagreed. She grew irritated at the lack of your attention, at this point feeling it was better if you didn’t reward her with a kiss anyway. Snapping her eyes at you, sending a glare of irritation, observing the cocky grin on your face.

This sneaky little vixen, Dior thought as she maintained eye contact with you. Of course, you were fully aware of Dior’s total hatred towards light kisses, and to give her a peck was so wrong in many ways. Clearly, it meant you didn’t love her anymore and that peck was the first sign of you losing interest in her.

Dior shook her head, disposing of those thoughts, knowing she was being a dramatic queen right now.

“Keep this attitude up and you’ll be sleeping on the couch,” you snarled, hoping your demanding tone would encourage Dior to oblige. Oh, Dior loves your confidence, but not when it was used against her.

It was necessary to humble you, right then and there, or else you’ll never learn your lesson. After all, you were a very smart girl and not a stupid one, it wasn’t your tendency to make frequent mistakes like this.

Without saying a word, she squeezes your stomach, her hands slithering their way upwards against your chest and you release a tiny squeal of shock. Dior had her gaze locked down on you during the whole time. You refused to look your girlfriend in the eyes as you closed your eyes, internally cursing yourself for being so submissive to her actions. and rather, a very simple action at that too. God, you thought you had more pride than you let on.

Guessing it was Dior’s way of saying; don’t bite off more than you can chew.

“No, I won’t, and I know you won’t do that. You’ll miss me too much,” she admitted, grinning at the scowl appearing on your lips. your girlfriend shuffles slightly on you, keeping her warm hands underneath the hoodie you wore, “Baby, don’t scowl, it promotes ugly wrinkles.”

That comment earned Dior a flick to her forehead and you pushed her to the floor, giggling at her dejected groans of pain.

You looked at your phone, grabbed it, and flipped the camera, showing your girlfriend sprawled out on the floor. Her beautiful curls spread across the carpeted floor as she squints her eyes at you.

On Instagram live, comments and viewers flooded in alike, observing the sapphic couple.

“Look at this dumbass,” You stated, bringing the phone closer to her as you straddled her lap. Instinctively, her arms rest on your hips, lightly tracing imaginary patterns on the clothed flesh. Limbs tangled together, constant swooning with each other through quick stares, and the faint giggles erupting from both of you filled the quiet atmosphere.

“Not too close,” she warns, puckering her lips, “My lips are all yours.” Out of the camera, your girlfriend kisses your cheek and then

“Gimmie a kiss and a real one this time!” Dior demands, mumbling it to you.

You pressed her lips against yours softly, seemingly making the kiss sweet and innocent. Tugging one of Dior’s loose curls that dangled in her face, you pulled it behind her ear as your lips moved as one. You adored Dior’s hair, thick voluminous curls flowing down to her neck and you couldn’t resist playing it in when she was close.

She could kiss you a billion times, and that still wouldn’t suffice for you, Dior made sure you know that on numerous occasions, often being the one to overextend your kisses. You felt your girlfriend’s smile in the kiss as she deepened it, her grip on your waist tightening.

It was one of those slow and steady kisses that you cherished with her. There was no need to rush your makeout, a calm chaste kiss sealed the deal and got the point across. Dior was just drowning in your lips, never reluctant to refuse your kisses, moving on one accord.

She couldn’t go on with another minute without your loving kisses. Those kisses shared with you, your soft and sweet lips, were like nicotine to her, a special type of drug, stupidly yearning for your lips even more. You were Dior’s drug and she was your addiction. Insanely addicted to your lips making her act crazy, practically begging on her knees for an ounce of your attention, wondering if you saw her in the same light she perceived for you.

Sucking in a breath as the kiss intensified, one of Dior’s hands traveled to your lower back as the other remained on your hips, lightly squeezing the flesh there. You moaned in the kiss, spurring your girlfriend further on as she tugged at your lower lips, biting down gently, hardly enticing any discomfort from you.

Dior gave you time to adjust yourself again as she stared at you in contentment. Your hand teasingly runs down from the crevices of her breasts down to her toned abdomen and her breath hitched at this. However, she gains dominance as her hands grip the flesh of your thighs, squeezing down on them as you shuffle slightly.

Eventually leading up to the risk of getting insanely high, and resisting the temptation to become sober. Never take the risk of being sober if it means that she gets to be high off of you every day, obsessed by everything you achieved. Like hell was your girlfriend was gonna waste the chance of losing your touch once more, she’d be crazy enough to beat those allegations.

“I’m your….” Dior clarified, lips swollen from the intense making out. The camera frame caught onto her loose curls and barely the side of her face, “Sexy dumbass, you said so yourself,” She nods reassuringly, smiling slightly at your laughter.

“Think that’s it for today, we’ll see you later!” You concluded, and gave Dior your phone, displaying her presence on the live, “Say goodbye Dior!”

“Bye, you guys! Love ya!” Dior blows an air kiss at the phone screen. She ended the Instagram live and placed the phone on the coffee table as you both sat upright.

“Damn, baby,” she chuckles, wiping away the flour from her cheek. Her gaze never left you, peering at the flour mess on your face too. Your girlfriend smirks at you, “Looks like we’re gonna both take a shower sooner than expected.”

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

#dior goodjohn #dior goodjohn x reader #dior goodjohn x fem!reader #dior goodjohn x black!reader #dior goodjohn x black!fem!reader #dior goodjohn imagine

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kanmom51 · 2 months

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Rebirth - Muse - JM

[**This post was written before the release of today's BTB and the little explanation JM gave us about Rebirth and Slow dance. What can I say other than just how much more my words feel relevant now. ]

As promised.

Thought I'd sneak this one in before Are you sure? lands, cause Idk, I just have this feeling that once it does we are up for 1 of two options:

I'm so overwhelmed by the amount of content we are getting that I'll be so dumbfounded and unable to post at all; Or, I will be so busy ruffling through everything running after my own tail trying to post post post post, that I will have zero time or ability to post this.

Long story short, this was the time. Do or die pretty much.

So Intro: Rebirth.

Before I get into the lyrics themselves I do want to go back to what we learnt from the Minimoni album exchange.

I kind of feel like a broken record here, but then again, I do think that obviously watching that exchange and my post on it can be a good starting point into understanding not only what Muse is all about, but also that out of all the songs on the album, Rebirth, in a sense, is just a little more personal than the others.

JM talks how the lyrics for this one were really hard to write. He mentions this a couple of times.

This was also when JM talked it was hard to write about having a crush.

Before moving on and talking about the song itself I do want to clarify something here.

I was really surprised to see how people are interpreting this.

Do people not know what the meaning of the word crush is? Not only the actual term JM used in Korean (that perhaps got lost in translation), but the actual meaning of the word in English.

짝사랑 - this is the term JM used while talking to RM.

Which basically translates as unrequited or one sided love, which is just that if you understand the actual term of the word.

Go to Oxford dictionary and crush is described as: "a brief but intense infatuation for someone, especially someone unattainable." And if you look up "infatuation" well: "an intense but short-lived passion or admiration for someone or something."

Now, when I heard the word crush that is exactly what I understood and it was funny for me to see that there were those that interpret the word as falling in love or being in love or similar to that, when crush means something else all together.

*Side note: JM's love life aside, knowing the concept of JM's album, it's easy to understand why he chose to use the idea of a crush as a metaphor to describe that short lived passion/excitement he was feeling with his work, telling us or showing us, with the development of the songs in the album, that indeed it is short lived and he was yet to find that long lasting feeling of excitement with the things he was doing (work/his art) - still searching for that "who".

Back to the meaning of crush.

As explained, a crush in English means an intense infatuation with another that is mostly unattainable. Two people can crush on each other, but it's a crush only as long as it is yet to be requited. Once it is reciprocated then it's no longer a crush. So, you can crush on someone unknowing that the other person has a crush on you. This crush can fizzle out and end in nothingness. But a crush evolve into a relationship if the two people involved move forward from it. Making that move forward towards each other.

This is what having a crush looks like:

And this is how it looks when you had a crush and are realizing that maybe, just maybe that person is reciprocating.

And this is when you have decided that he really is.

That was back in 2015 btw. August 2015 and December 2015. ALMOST 9 YEARS AGO.

Unattainable.

Short-lived.

Are we surprised JM wouldn't remember the last time he had a crush?

I will repeat this for the rows in the back that might not have heard. When JM says he doesn't remember the last time he had a crush, that doesn't mean he's single. Whoever thinks that is what he's saying needs a crash course in English and/or life.

A crash course in crush... lmao (yes, I am easily entertained).

So, JM had to turn to the youngest member of SGMB (lol) to remind him what it feels like to have a crush. And yet, as I have explained in the Minimoni post, Muse might not be autobiographical, but that doesn't mean that there aren't personal aspects to some of the songs, and the lyrics. Feelings expressed being real feelings drawn from his trove of inner thoughts, feelings and life and love experiences.

I will also add that although crushing is mostly one sided, and when it turns into more, as in the other party reciprocates, of course there are some of the feelings that linger. The rush, the want, the need. But at the same time things change in that the other side is feeling the same. When you look at them, they look back, gazes linger rather than avoiding eye contact, for example. There are the touches when crushing, and there are the touches, just as hesitant, after it becoming MORE. The first are one sided and usually hidden as something else (for example: "I just need to check your arm muscles for a sec"), while the second are two sided, intentional but at times hidden from others.

The differences might be so very slight at times, but if you have a keen eye you can definitley notice them. And they sure were noticeable when it came to Jikook.

Another thing before I start.

One word:

SERENDIPITY

Idk why, but I feel like Rebirth is a prequel to Serendipity. Even though Serendipity was not written by JM (although I do believe he had input into the song just like or even more so with John Billion - remember how JM says he's an American RM...), it most certainly was claimed by him and JK as theirs. You are me I am you being their trademarked catch phrase. A love ode from JM to JK. That song JM said he will gift his loved one and did. Followed by GCFT, JK's love ode to JM. And if I'm going down that road, well, if Rebirth is the prequel to Serendipity I'd say that Letter is the sequel to Serendipity. I kind of think I've mentioned this before in one of my posts about Letter.

Now that I'm done with my precursor, let's move on to the actual song. A song that out of the lot of them in this album seems to be the most personal. The only song that we didn't get to see the process of writing or recording of in content we have gotten so far for Muse (promotions now over).

[Verse] If I'm tryna be special Can I get closer to you? I can feel my heart pounding When your fingertips graze past me If I'm tryna be special So that I can sing while making eye contact with you I'll show you, baby Oh, I didn't realize Oh, I didn't think I'd care Oh my gosh, now I Won't hide You are the light in my darkness Like the sunshine vibe It spreads quietly [Chorus] That I want a real good love, good love, good love I'm tryna find a love, good love, real love I was in pitch black, but I couldn't stop thinking of you all day long I want to take one step and two steps closer without you knowing Stay with you, with you, with you, with you I will be your reason, rеason, reason, reason I hope this feeling rеaches you, to you, you To you [Outro] White clouds The wind passing by Floating petals It feels like it's been waiting just for us When that door opens When I get closer to you I'll tell you this I will be special all for you Special just for you For you (For you) For you (For you) I wanna be with you

I will share with you what went through my mind once listening to Rebirth, all while reading parts of the translated lyrics. The flashing scenes. Parts that screamed JK or Jikook.

"I can feel my heart pounding When your fingertips graze past me"

This:

And this:

I can go on with this all day long. Being one of the most obvious sus behaviours with these two. But seeing that I don't want to exceed my image limit in this post I think this is where I will stop. Point made I guess.

"So that I can sing while making eye contact with you"

This was the first thing that came to mind:

😭😭

Although these did too:

And do we recall JK's sentiments about making eye contact with JM on stage?

They connect on stage. Before, during and at the end of the performance. We have seen it and they have told us so throughout the years.

Was that what JM was thinking of while writing that line?

This is clearly a line that is taken from his own personal experience. Singing while making eye contact is not something that regular people like you or I would come up with to express a feeling of love or want towards someone.

Drawing from his own emotions and experiences, how it is for him and how he might have used to wish it would be.

This line, more than any other is clearly that.

"Oh my gosh, now I Won't hide You are the light in my darkness" and "Like the sunshine vibe"

The latter, as JM explained to RM, was a word game/pun for which he asked permission from Taeyang to use in his song, seeing that his name literally means sun and Vibe was his song, lol.

But, we also know there is someone else, much closer to home, much closer period, that is referred to as the sun. Someone that makes JM happy. Someone that makes JM laugh even when he's sad. Someone that JM chose to go into the army with, together!!! Someone that is the other half of the sun and moon duo, the sun to JM's moon.

And what about this?

I'm tryna find a love, good love, real love

And he found it.

Coincidence? I don't think so.

"When that door opens When I get closer to you I'll tell you this I will be special all for you Special just for you For you (For you) For you (For you)

And he is. JM is special for JK. He has told and showed us this in so many ways in the past.

"I wanna be with you"

I wanna be with you...

Again, JM told us the songs aren't about his life, right? And yet, that doesn't mean they don't have a personal connection, that while writing he didn't take from his own experiences or feelings, that after writing he feels an emotional connection with the song, that even if not intended to it hits closer to home than others. And I feel like this is the case with Rebirth. I do believe that there is a reason it is the connecting song between Face and Muse. That there is a reason the interlude separates it from the rest of the songs.

#Jimin #JM #JM Muse #JM Rebirth #Jikook #Kookmin #Minkook #Jungkook #JK

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silenzahra · 2 months

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They keep saving my life ✨

Dear friends, I've been missing today because I've been trying to recover from last night's experience! I went to watch my favorite band live again and I'm not exaggerating when I say they saved my life once more 🥹 It's just what I needed to feel entirely good again! My beloved Estopa never fail to make me feel better, them and the Mario Brothers are literally keeping me ALIVE these last years and I'm seriously so blessed 😭

I'm not gonna repeat everything I said here as the repertory was essentially the same, but I do want to add a video and some pics, and also a VERY silly conversation they had (as well as something related to my writing). So keep reading if you're curious, and it's totally fine if you're not! 🥰

Still, I believe perhaps @bberetd @vulpixfairy1985 @stripetkattelalala54-gf @itsavee4117 would like this! Of course, if you're not interested, just let me know and I'll remove your tag! 💖

THE FOREHEAD TOUCH AT THE END. THE WAY THE CROWD STARTS SCREAMING WHEN THEY DO IT. People do LOVE seeing them doing it, me included of course, and I can only melt and CRY 😭 (Yes, you can hear me singing and screaming, I recorded this video myself, so surprise! Voice reveal 😂)

And the line they were singing face to face right before bringing their foreheads together...

"And I'm still here by your side until the wind blows me away."

... I'm not crying, I just got some brotherly love in my eye 🥲🥲🥲

Also, a few minutes ago I just ran into this pic, a close-up of THE moment, and I DIED again 👇

THEIR FACES. THEIR FOREHEADS. I CAN'T. These brothers are gonna be the DEATH of me I swear 😭😭😭

The fact that they're REAL. I just can't get over it. Mario and Luigi have a WONDERFUL bond and you all know I love them wholeheartedly, but the fact that Estopa are the real, actual personification of brotherly love? In our world?? Them having so much fun together and always showing how much they LOVE each other in every single concert???

Excuse me if I CRY but they're too PRECIOUS.

I just can't have enough of them. As you all know, they inspired me to write my musicians post, and also two of my WIPs that revolve around different things (the brothers on stage and Luaisy smut). They inspire me. They've been doing so ever since I became a fan of them, which, btw, happened exactly 18 years ago today! Man, I'm old 🥲

And the thing is... If you've been following me lately, you know I've been going through some hard times and I've been feeling down for a long time. So much so that I was unable to read... nor write. I'm still in the process of getting over my reader's block...

... but my writer's one might be coming to an end at last.

It's too soon to speak yet, but Estopa's music does inspire me, as well as their brotherly dynamic and their chemistry on stage. And yesterday, a few things happened that only gave me more and more ideas for that future story I wanna write with Mario and Luigi being musicians and performing together.

First of all, a very silly conversation:

"I am your brother." "Yes, me too." "... No." "Yes, I am your brother." "I am your brother, but you're my brother. I'm not my brother." "Of course, because I am your brother. You're my brother." "No, I'm not my brother, I'm your brother!"

I swear, me and my friend were just cracking up at the stupidest conversation EVER 😂 You can't tell me this isn't Mario and Luigi 🤭😂

Unfortunately... there were a couple of times where David almost fell off the stage 😅 The first time, I didn't even notice because I was further back, but I was a bit confused that he was standing still at one end of the stage when he's usually running and dancing here and there while singing.

And then... I saw this. Unfortunately it's an Instagram story which means it'll be gone at some point, but even though I've tried, Tumblr just wouldn't let me add a second video to this post 🤦‍♀️ So I just hope you can get to see it before it's gone, but it's basically poor David tripping and being about to fall off the stage 🥲

Poor man, I swear I feel SO BAD for him 😭😭😭 All I wanna do is run and help him through the screen! Thank God he handled it and didn't hurt himself but I swear I SCREAMED when I saw this 🥺

On a brighter note though... the second time was hilarious and he didn't hurt himself 🤭 To give you some context, it turns out there was a famous artist among the crowd watching the concert. His name is Dani Martín and he's friends with Estopa. They actually sang one of Estopa's songs together a while back, and when they started playing it last night, David suddenly noticed his friend...

... And he jumped off the stage to go sing with him! 😂😂😂

The moment his butt literally kisses the ground, I'm so DEAD I swear 😂😂😂 You just CAN'T convince me Mario wouldn't do something like this if he spotted, I don't know, Geno, maybe? 🤭

They're so friendly I swear! This was such a big surprise, and my friend was elated because she's also a big fan of Dani Martín! So it was really so great they did something like this 🥹 David jumping to bring him on stage and Jose ceding him his mic, they're just so nice and pure 😭

Anyways, as I said, the rest was very similar to the concert in Sevilla I attended back in June (only that this time I was WAY closer and I couldn't believe it 🤩), so I'll just add that I've been sharing some videos of the concert on my Instagram stories, and I'll probably share a few more tomorrow as I recorded a lot 🤭

Also, my friend sent me the videos she recorded and her phone has such a higher quality than mine! So yeah, those are coming to my insta stories tomorrow too 😂 Just in case you'd like to see said videos, here's my Instagram account! I'm saving them all on the higlighted stories called "Estopa Chiclana" btw, so they're gonna remain there no matter what 🥰

And to say goodbye, here's an AMAZING pic my friend took at the beginning of the concert and that has become my new lockscreen! 😁🔥

It captures their essence SO WELL and it gives me so many ideas for Mario and Luigi! 🥹❤️💚

#zahra's posts #Estopa #Spanish band #inspiration #Mario and Luigi Musicians #my writing #silenzahra

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year

Note

AITA FOR KISSING MY ROOMMATE GOODNIGHT?

(everyone is in their 20s. names are fake)

I’d like to start off by giving background, I(M) live with my roommate Salt. We’ve been living together for a couple of years now and met through mutual friends.

I’m straight. Salt is gay in a very open, stereotypical sense(yk flamboyant, effeminate etc) and I’m not saying this to judge him/say I resent him or something he’s a dear friend of mine and I couldn’t care less abt his sexuality or how he chooses to express himself. However it’s important to mention this for the sake of AITA

The actual ‘issue’ started a year ago, where we were both drunk coming home from a party, I was struggling to get my keys out so he called me a idiot and then just.. kissed me??

That caused me to question my sexuality for a while because being a straight man you’d think I’d be repulsed or bothered by it but no I didn’t really enjoy it(not like there was smth to enjoy it was like a couple of seconds) but didn’t really mind it either in fact it didn’t made me feel any different than how I’d feel kissing a random girl I suppose?

So yeah I experimented with my sexuality for a week or so and even almost hooked up with some guy but nope. Still straight. Just didn’t mind him(probably because of how close we are)

Anyways back to the point after that Salt avoided me for a while but in the end we did have a talk which was basically him saying he was not attracted to me, how it was a spur of the moment thing and also apologizing if he made me uncomfortable.

To that I told him he did not and joked about how he could do it again.

Fast forward a month(?) later the “kissing the homies goodnight” meme came out, so one time I asked him where was my goodnight kiss was at and he actually did it, after that we just continued doing that ig I don’t think none of us thought much of it other than some night time ritual.

Here comes the actual AITA part, I recently got a girlfriend(we’ll call her Pepper). I’ts not like I’m super in love with her but she’s a nice girl and I genuinely like her so I wish to keep her happy.

The issue with Pepper is that she talks a tad bit too much, I normally wouldn’t mind it as I’m on the quiet part, but she expects me to memorize everything she has told me(not in the “do you remember my friend” type of way in the she tells me about 10 different people and gets upset when I don’t remember their exes names or what did friend7 did on lunch a month ago type of way) she also has a tendency to hyperfixate on shows and talk about the plot & characters as if they’re actual real people which makes it hard for me to understand if something she says is about a show or real. She gets really upset if I forget even the smallest things about those stories and rants about how I never listen to her. I tried talking to her about this but it only ends with her crying so I just keep shut to keep her satisfied

A week ago I was having a really bad day of migraines and nothing seemed to help but me and Pepper had made plans to hang in my place and I didn’t want to cancel. She comes over and starts talking about her sister in life’s brunch. I ask her if she could slow down a bit cause my head hurts and I can’t really keep up.

Well she takes it the wrong way and starts yelling at me about how I always am like this and how I never listen to her. I admit I’m the asshole for saying this, but I ask her if she’s unable to sit down and have a conversation like an adult. This makes her calm down a bit and she sits down so we can discuss.

I try explaining to her how it’s unfair how she expects me to remember everything and I’d be more than happy to listen to her, maybe just slow down a bit?

In mid of it she has this weird smile on her face and tells me I look hot mad, she then leans over to kiss me which I pull away from because it feels like she’s just trying to change a topic and I think this is an important convo for our relationship.

This is the moment Salt decides to arrive at home(I should also mention he’s TERRIBLE at reading the room) he comes over gives me my goodnight kiss and leaves.

(I would like to add its not like we make out or something. He just gives me a peck on the lips, says goodnight and leaves)

This drives Pepper crazy. She starts shouting at me on how I’d not kiss her but him? And that I could go ride his dick if I’m that gay for him. She storms out of the apartment

I’d like to add that Pepper has never said anything about me and Salt. I never told her about the goodnight kiss(Because I mean who goes to their girlfriend like “hey btw I kiss my roommate at nights. but no homo”?) but we never hide it either in fact I’m pretty sure we did that while she was in room once or twice too. Pepper has made jokes about us being gay and how she feels bad about getting inbetween us but never anything on being uncomfortable or not liking it.

Now it’s been a week and we haven’t talked since. She is not answering my messages and I stopped trying to contact her from there but I’m starting to doubt myself, am I the asshole here? Should I go apologize?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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bloodyknucklesforme · 2 years

Note

consider this- reader is pregnant and hasn’t told ghost out of fear, but tells price because she doesn’t know where else to go. task 141 shows up at a safe house together and reader is stressed enough to have a miscarriage and price knows immediately and ghost can tell.

A/N: So I changed the plot a little and I tried to do my best to portray what miscarrying is like. I've never been pregnant or had a miscarriage but I wanted to do my best. I also tried to leave it a little open-ended on whether or not the reader wants kids. I don't want kids and I live in America which is very scary right now. Full fic below the read more.

CW: Depictions of Miscarriage

Words: 1.5k

“Something is off about you,” Price said, having called you back to talk to him. He was right, you weren’t on top of things and it was getting dangerous. Covert operations in the Balkans. It was your first time back in the field after a little over a year. The scar on your abdomen still stung when you stretched too hard.

“Out of practice, Sir. I apologize.”

“If you were out of practice he wouldn’t have requested you as an asset.”

He…Ghost. Your not boyfriend.The man who used you as a human stress ball. It was non-committal, casual, physically intimate but emotionally detached. He came by when he could to fuck your brains out and then leave till next time. It wasn’t anything and right now that’s why it scared you.

“He requested me?” The last time you were in the field together he had to stop you from bleeding out. Then there was everything else that followed.

“If something happened between the two of you, I need to know.” Price held your arm to stop you walking away. Price had always been an ally. Tough but fair was him to a t. He wouldn’t rat you out, he wouldn’t betray your trust.

“uhmm..I… I’m pregnant.” It was weird to say, the words stuck in your throat like molasses.

“Why are you here, then? There are rules about this,” He whispered angrily. “Who’s the..? Bloody hell, tell me he isn’t. ”

“He is.” He didn’t even know it yet. You hadn’t actually had time alone with him since finding out. You knew you had to say something, you couldn’t hide it for long. You’d be taken out of the field again and if any superior found out you might lose your whole career.

“Since when?”

“First time was about a week after we first met, it’s been going on since then.”

“Never pictured him the domestic type.”

“He’s not.” you knew he wasn’t, you’d always known. Didn’t make it hurt less. You hadn’t decided what to do yet, hoping that maybe if you ignored it enough it just wouldn’t exist anymore.

“He doesn’t know,” Price sighed. You shook your head.

“You need to tell him. It’s your choice what you want to do and if he gives you shit either way, you tell me, but you need to choose. This was stupid of you to come out here like this.” Price’s disappointment only made your body heavier. He’d been the one who requested you the first time around. He was the reason you met Ghost and now you’ve gone and fucked that up too.

That conversation was almost a week ago and you still hadn’t told him. He’d been professional the whole time. Ignoring you mostly. He was your overwatch currently. This was almost over, you just had to make the exchange with the Russians.

It was right there, the package was in your hands. The pain started, blooming up from the bottom of your torso. It was a deep ache that made it hard to breathe. You were sweating, unable to focus. Maybe it was always going to go down this way, maybe they already knew, maybe you just looked too nervous.

Two shots, they were both dead. You barely blinked as the blood splattered across your face. There was shouting, you got up and ran. Price was barking orders. He had a car a couple blocks away. You just had to get there.

You could see it but the pain had doubled. You felt wet.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” An arm wrapped around your middle, almost lifting you over your feet. You were in the back of the car, unable to hold back whimpers.

“Is she injured?” Price asked slamming on the gas.

“I can’t find a wound.” Ghost’s hands ran over your body, lifting up clothes desperately trying to find the source of your pain.

“Fuck.” You heard Price’s hand slam on the wheel. You never told Ghost. You stuck a hand down your pants and it came back bloody. Fuck.

Ghost pulled you into his lap, wiping sweat from your brow. Stoic and silent as always. Maybe you could lie? Just a bad period, sorry lads. It wouldn’t work on Price, you knew but it would spare you from any emotion from Ghost.

“Get her in the tub!” Price yelled as Ghost carried you into the safehouse. Always the dutiful soldier, you were laid in the yellowing fiberglass. He shut the bathroom door behind you.

“What is this?” He asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to help me get my pants off.” You choked out. The two of you were in your own world now and you felt safe enough to cry. He undid everything and helped pull your jeans off, a deep red stain in the crotch. He took off a glove to stroke your hair back.

“Are you pregnant?”

“I don’t think I am anymore.” You pressed your hand against your aching muscles, begging for the pressure to stop the pain. You grabbed his arm with the other. “Simon, I’m scared.”

It was rare for you to use his name. It was a special treat for when he spent extra time between your legs. He was taking his gear off as quickly as he could. His vest falling to the floor next to your jeans. He leaned into the tub to take off your underwear. The blood was bright red. Blood didn’t bother you but you couldn’t help but look away.

You knew you were miscarrying. Your job was research and that’s what you did the moment you saw that little plus sign. You knew that 15% of pregnancies ended this way. That because it was so early that it was probably just an abnormality rather than anything you could have done. It’s just something that happens.

He climbed into the tub behind you. He bent his knees, trapping you between them. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against his chest. A wet cloth was against your forehead.

“We need to get you to hospital.” His voice wasn’t its usal cold coolness, he sounded scared too. He wasn’t supposed to be scared, he wasn’t supposed to care.

“No, I should be okay… as long as everything comes out.” You were shaking in his arms. You never told him and here he was holding you through this. You never talked. You didn’t know if he wanted kids, it had never come up. You didn’t even know.

You cried out as a contraction worked it’s way through you. His hand was rubbing a circle between your shoulder blades. Sweat, snot and drool poured from your face as you sobbed in pain.

Price came in, leaving water, painkillers and towels. He avoided looking at the two of you, just leaving everything on the counter. You would go to hospital once you were home. They’d make sure you were okay and you could pretend like this never happened.

Like the most intimate you’d ever been with him hadn’t been this moment, you miscarrying your child while he held you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your ear. “I’m so sorry.”

You weren’t sure how much time had passed. He turned on the water at one point. Lifted you out of the tub and cleaned you up. Gave you water and made sure you drank it all. He called for Price to get you clothes.

You were asleep on a cot with one arm around your waist and another under your head. The three of you were exfiled the next morning. They both lied for you, said you had bad food poisioning. He drove you home in the dead of night.

“Was it mine?” He asked, once the two of you were in the safety of your own bed. He hadn’t left your side the entire time.

“Yeah.” Here came the talk. The thing you dreaded most. The emotionally intimacy, the walls between the two of you were crumbling under the weight of what ifs.

“Were you going to tell me?” He had his cool back. That deep manchester accent that reminded you of menthols.

“I was. I just wasn’t sure when.”

“When you called me to sign the birth certificate?” He was making jokes, that was a good sign.

“I hadn’t decided if I was keeping it yet.”

“I’m sorry, love.” He had pulled up his mask to press a kiss to the back of your head.

“It’s not your fault.” Your hands rubbed over his.

“I would have been a shit dad. I woulda paid you and all that but I don’t think I could be there. I’d just fuck the little bugger up.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was just.. I don’t know.”

“Afraid?”

“Maybe.”

“I knew this was a possibility. I don’t pull out.” You breathed out a shaky laugh. “I wouldn’t have just left you. It’s your choice but I’m responsible for it.”

“I didn’t want you to be angry.”

“At you? For this? Never.”

You settled into bed, leaning your head back into his chest.

“Will you still be here tomorrow?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will be. Get some sleep.” He kissed the back of your head again. He was the big scary man in the mask, the one whose face you didn't know but whose body you did. The one you'd resisted admitting you cared about. Here he was, holding you at your weakest, kissing your hair.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #agent!reader #cod mwii #cod mw22 #call of duty fanfic #miscarriage #my writing

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cheeriecherrymain · 1 year

Note

viktor is a cat, no i do not take criticism

you're right and you should say it.

The Likeness Of Men And Cats [Oneshot] Pairing: Viktor x Reader Rating: T Proofread: no beta we die like men Synopsis: You acquire a cat for the first time, and make a startling connection between it and your best friend, Viktor. Of course, you now have to test your theory: is the man you're crushing on actually several cats in a trenchcoat?

You’ve worked with Viktor for years. Six years, in fact, if you started all the way back in your first year at the academy.

You hadn’t had much interest in him, then. He was just another face in the crowded classroom, just another hand that got raised whenever your professors asked a question. He was smart, sure, but no more than some of the other people in your peer group.

Only once you’d been assigned to a group project did you really start getting to know him - and his less than stellar reputation around campus.

Your friends had all given you their condolences when you’d told them who you’d be working with for the semester, each of them sprouting off some story or another about an interaction they’d had with this Viktor.

And the more you got to know him, the more you realized their stories were true.

He was blunt, and logical to a fault. He refused to take breaks, for either his or your sake - even when you’d been about to pass out from sleep deprivation, he’d merely sighed and told you to sleep, then, if you need it. He frustrated you to no end.

And the more you got to know him, the more you realized your friends’ tales were…wrong.

You had hardly wanted bad blood between you and the man you were supposed to be working with for the whole semester, so you’d stuck it out. You’d been friendly, made yourself approachable, listened to him when he spoke and tried to include him in conversations.

And eventually he opened up.

Shared little jokes with you, brought little snacks to your study sessions so you wouldn’t go hungry. He showed a profound sense of compassion, the deeper your chats got, and a truly spectacular desire to change the world for the better.

It only made sense that you’d fall in love with him. Stupidly, terribly in love.

Even now, years after you’d graduated and moved onto your own projects, you still got heart palpitations whenever you spent time with him. Which happened to be most days, what with your work coinciding so closely. You’re certain that one of these days, the persistent thrum in your chest is simply going to stop, and you’re going to perish.

All because of him, and his stupid handsome face, and his stupid beautiful brain.

And it’s not like you hadn’t tried to tell him how you felt! You’re not the kind of person to just stand there stewing in your feelings for years without trying to resolve them!

He was just…not interested. You dropped hint after hint after hint, suggesting you spend time together to catch up, or maybe go out to lunch, or even dinner. You’d flirted with him so openly that even Jayce was cringing from your efforts!

But he never reciprocated.

Jayce had tried to comfort you one evening, after a particularly rough afternoon of thirsting after your best friend. He probably just doesn’t realize you’re trying to uhh…woo him, he’d said, in a vain attempt at calming your roiling emotions.

Didn’t realize. Right.

You’d been heartbroken for so long after being rejected by Viktor, lost in thought and unable to effectively work. Making excuse after excuse as to why you were ‘out of sorts’ and ‘not feeling well’.

That is…until now.

Three weeks ago, you’d…come into the possession of a soft, fuzzy creature. Or she’d come into possession of you?

Either way, you’d found a cat. Skinny, mottled black and white, covered in fleas - she’d woken you up in the middle of a fateful night, screaming haplessly from your balcony where she’d gotten stuck. The moment you opened the sliding door, she’d run inside and had since refused to leave.

It had been hectic in the first couple days, particularly when you were trying to get her into the bath to remove all the built up dirt and dust from her fur. But you’d gotten her settled eventually, and since then she’s become a staple in your everyday routine.

It had taken you a while to really notice the patterns in her behavior, and to connect the dots.

Your cat behaved an awful lot like Viktor.

Rather, Viktor behaved an awful lot like a cat.

Bringing you little gifts for no apparent reason, typically in the form of snacks or trinkets. Preferring to sit in the same place as you and work separately, as opposed to actively engaging in conversation. Only showing you his softer side once he knew he could trust you. Even the few times he touched you, he did so in the most unusual way you’d ever seen - running a hand down your arm, or your back.

Not unlike a cat brushing up against its companion.

Looking back, knowing what you know now, you feel…stupid. For disregarding the man you loved so easily, for not clueing into his way of expressing love.

Because of course he loved you!

…probably.

Maybe.

…you need to test your theory.

—

The next day is when you begin Phase One of your plan.

You spent the entire night working on a detailed month-long set of experiments, subtle enough that Viktor wouldn’t think your actions were too weird or out of the blue. In the event that you were wrong in your hypothesis, you would be able to chalk your behaviour up to…

…to…

…wanting to switch things up a bit?

So, truthfully, you hadn’t really thought much about it at all. You’d actually fallen asleep with your face smashed into your desk around ten in the evening, and by the time your alarm had started blaring, you had to scramble to make sense of what little you’d scribbled down.

“Good afternoon, my brilliant men of science!” you cheer, skipping into the lab in your typical loud fashion, your arms full with a large cardboard box that had steam wafting from between its creases.

Viktor hums a quiet greeting from across the room, barely paying you any mind as he continues to focus on his current project.

Jayce, on the other hand, looks over the moment you set foot in the room, making a beeline towards you when he sees you struggling with your parcel.

“What’s in the box?” he wonders, watching over your shoulder as you set it out on one of the free desks, and begin to unfold the flaps.

“Lunch!” you reply, finally revealing a bunch of smaller boxes packed tightly within. “I know you two don’t always have time to run out to grab something to eat, so I thought I’d do it for you. It’s important to keep your energy up when you’re using your brains so much.”

Jayce wastes no time in helping you unpack everything you’d brought, opening up each little package to discover the treasures that lay inside. It’s mostly foods that you know Viktor likes - a couple of baked goods, some potato dumplings, a thermos of root stew, some little swirly breads.

In no time, he’s fixed himself a plate and gone back to his own workplace, leaving you to stand alone by the feast.

Looking at Viktor.

Who was looking at you.

Looking at you with the most suspicion you’ve ever seen him wear, with his eyes narrowed in thought and his shoulders held tight and square.

“Why?” he asks, glancing between you and the food.

“What do you mean, why?”

His brows pull together slightly, adding to the absolute absurdity of his expression.

“What’s the catch?” he reiterates, finally rising from his seat to slink towards you. “You never bring us lunch. Ever. What’s the occasion?”

You shrug nonchalantly.

“Why would I need a reason to be nice?” you ask. You supposed you could just tell him what you were up to - you doubt he’d be upset with you if you did. He’d probably just be curious about your theory.

The only issue was that if he knew, it might skew your data. If he knew what you were looking for, he might try to react in a way that he thought you’d like - or in a way that would purposefully fuck with you.

No, it would be better if you didn’t tell him. At least not yet.

“V, I’m all for asking questions, but please stop trying to dissect a good thing?” Jayce pleads from the other side of the room, casting over his best impression of a kicked puppy.

You’re pretty sure he knows what you’re up to.

Viktor, in any case, appears to be momentarily placated by your explanation, poor as it was. You know that he’s going to wonder about it eventually, but for now you’ve got time. You’ve got time to sit and eat lunch with your two best friends, and hopefully think up some better excuses.

—

You continue bringing the two of them lunch for the next week. Jayce remains completely unbothered by the situation, and even offers to help once you tell him what your master plan is.

He knows how down bad you are for your friend, and you’re certain that he’s fully sick of listening to you lament about how pretty he is and how badly your heart aches.

Viktor hasn’t mentioned anything since the first day of your new routine, either, but you can tell he’s just as suspicious as he was at the start. His gaze is always sharp when you clatter into the room with another box of food, watching intently while you unpack, remaining trained on you while he makes his way over to hesitantly scoop some up for himself.

Almost like he’s waiting for some kind of reaction out of you.

But you give him nothing, no hints as to what your plan is. You wait patiently while he fixes himself a plate, asking him how his day has been or perhaps about what he’s working on, smiling softly all the while.

It’s exactly one week to the day when you burst into the lab again, followed closely by your loud and raucous announcement of your presence, only to be met with silence.

“I’m afraid Jayce isn’t here today,” Viktor sighs from behind a stack of notebooks, not even bothering to turn his attention away from the formulas he’s copying down.

You, however, are undeterred, continuing your trail into the room, over to your usual table where you are about to begin Phase Two of testing your theory.

“I know,” you reply, setting your things down. “He said he had a thing with Mel today - and a busy week, too.”

You can see from the corner of your eye as your friend finally turns away from his work.

“You knew he wouldn’t be here?” he wonders, utterly perplexed. When you hum your confirmation, he continues, “Then why did you bother coming?”

That alone is enough to give you pause, glancing towards him in confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask.

You stare at each other for a couple of seconds, before he shrugs and makes a noncommittal grumble, turning back to his papers.

He…thought you wouldn’t come? If it was just him, he thought…you wouldn’t even bother showing up. As if he wasn’t your best friend, and the love of your life, and the brightest part of your day? Like he couldn’t possibly be the reason for your kindness?

Your heart clenches.

In silence, you fix him a plate of the little foods you know he’ll like; you’d gone out of your way to pick out a couple of his favourites today, having suspected that he might be difficult to persuade without Jayce nearby to bully him into eating.

“Here,” you tell him, softly, setting the plate on the desk beside him. You set your hand on his shoulder for a brief moment, letting your fingertips wander down his arm, and then turn away to head back to your own work.

Knowing Viktor, he’d prefer the silence over active conversation. It was easier for him when the other half of HexTech was around to act as a buffer and keep your endless desire to talk entertained. But today, when it’s just the two of you? You know you’ve overstepped your bounds in the past, pushing him into a state of discomfort with your constant chattering.

But not today.

Today, you’ve brought your own work with you, fully intent on sitting quietly with your best friend while you both eat your meals. You had the entire hour to catch up on grading your students’ tests - grades they’d been hassling you about for a while now.

It’s a little bit uncomfortable at first, to not talk while you know he’s nearby. There are things from your day that you want to share with him - something funny that one of your first-years said to you, the gossip you’ve heard about other faculty members.

But you resist.

Viktor, on the other hand, only makes it about ten minutes.

All at once, the incessant scribbling of his pen stops, followed by a deep sigh, and the quiet clatter of the utensil being set down. A creak in his chair, as he turns towards you.

“Have I done something to offend you?” he inquires, bluntly, as usual.

You glance up from your pile of papers with wide eyes, surprised by the suddenness of his question.

“No?” you reply, “Why would you think that?”

He sighs again, his gaze wandering away from yours and down to the floor. He looks hesitant, the same sort of hesitant that he’d been when taking the food you offered to him: like he was waiting for something to happen.

Like he was waiting for you to…to announce that you were playing some kind of absurd prank-

Oh.

“You’ve hardly said a word to me today,” he mumbles, crossing his arms on the back of his chair so he can rest his head between them.

“But…you like the quiet?” you reply, far more meek than you’d intended to be. Had he been taking your entire experiment as some kind of mean joke on him? Had he already known that he was reminiscent of a cat? Did he think you were making fun of him for it?

“Yes!” he retorts quickly, running a hand through his already-mussed hair. “But you’re always talking! To me, to Jayce - about your students, or some shitty scholarly article you read! You’ve been acting strange for the entire week. First the food, and now this - are you okay? Are you-”

“Viktor, breathe!” you squeak.

The moment you see the worry in his eyes, you jump to your feet and make your way over to him. Taking his face in your heads, despite your better judgment or regard to the rules of your plan. Stroking your thumbs slowly over the curve of his cheeks, holding him close while he forced himself to relax and slow his breathing.

You’ve never seen him so outwardly worried about you.

“Look,” you murmur, “I just…I care about you. A lot. And I feel like sometimes I…do a pretty shitty job of showing it.”

Slowly, you let your hands slide down to rest atop his shoulders.

“I’m always after you to take better care of yourself, but I never actually do anything to help. And - and I always push conversations on you, even though I know you’d rather work on your own projects.”

With a dejected sigh, you remove your hands from him completely, “Even now. My first instinct when trying to comfort you is to touch you, even though I know you don’t really like it.”

Idly, you fiddle with the edges of your sleeves.

“I just want to make you happy, but…I know I can be annoying, sometimes. I’m sorry.”

The air is thick between the two of you after that. You can’t for the life of you figure out what else you should say, if anything - you can’t even bring yourself to look him in the eye. Instead, you turn on your heel and wobble back to your seat, trying your hardest to keep the hot sting of tears from reaching your eyes.

You feel like an idiot.

Your entire plan was stupid, and your theory was stupid, and wanting to test it? Stupid!

So caught up in your own thoughts, you don’t even notice the sound of a chair being dragged across the room, over to where you sit. Only when Viktor shoves it right up beside you and plops down nearly in your lap do you jostle out of your own head.

Staring up at him with wide eyes.

“You think you’re annoying?” he asks, nearly incredulous. “I never have anything to contribute to your conversations - never have any stories or adventures of my own to share. You have to carry all our interactions! And you…think you’re annoying?”

You scoff softly. “I mean, most of my other colleagues tolerate me, and only barely. Do you know how many break room conversations I’ve accidentally overheard about me?”

He grumbles a bit, letting his head roll sideways to carefully knock against the curve of your shoulder.

“This isn’t about them,” he insists. “You’re not annoying. I enjoy listening to you talk - you always have interesting perspectives on subjects that I rarely consider.”

He tilts his face up, then, staring up at you from mere inches away with a sort of intensity that makes your cheeks nearly catch fire.

“And I also like it when you remind me to take a break. You know how I am about keeping track of time - if there isn’t an alarm, I’ll sit and work until I pass out.”

Slowly, oh so slowly, you lean towards him. Gently, tenderly, with an affection that makes your chest ache - you bonk your forehead against his, the barest of touches, but the most intimate you’ve ever been with him.

And all at once, his face lights up into a bright, rosy hue.

Much like how you had connected the dots a week ago, all the pieces fall into place in his mind. One by one, clicking together to form an entire beautiful picture: a story of your friendship, finally understanding.

“You…” he begins, trailing off as he tilts his head up by a fraction, drawing you into a kiss you’ve both been waiting years for.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #viktor fluff #arcane fluff #viktor reader insert #see mom i cant possibly in a depressive episode i wrote THIS #arcane reader insert

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givesupp · 6 months

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The Ones Who Live (episode 4 spoilers)

My head feels like it's going to implode in on me and I just need to vomit my thoughts somewhere before it does. I remember hearing about the The Walking Dead (literally everyone and their mother was talking about it). I remember never wanting to watch it because it was SO popular and I've never been a huge fan of watching anything while it was still going live and everyone was into it. I'm weird IDK.

I had just finished up another TV series and was feeling empty, as one usually does and just wanted to dive into a new series. I chose The Walking Dead, finally deciding to give it a chance. I binged the first 4 seasons on Netflix and as I was doing this, it was literally becoming life saving. Only a few short years prior to starting the series I had just started dealing with severe depression. It was crippling. IYKYK. And to make a long story short, falling in love with this show, falling in love with Rick Grimes gave me something to hold on to.

'It's just a show' - this has been said to me many times. But it's not just a show to me. It's a lifeline. Its taking an inspiring moment and grabbing it with the only strength you have left and burning it into your head because if they can do it you can do it. You'll think about it the next time you feel like you can't get out of bed because there just isn't a point. It's taking a character and watching him fight for his sons life while everyone around belittles his character as a father and leader and using that the next time you feel like your chest is about to cave in from the sheer force of anxiety that just hit you like a mack truck. And you think about this character persevering while you sit in the corner of your bathroom floor with a cold rag on your face just simply trying to breathe.

So many examples, so many moments TWD has breathed life back into me when nothing else could.

And then Richonne.

RICHONNE.

Oh my god, what a fucking absolute treasure to emerge from this series. The slowburn of it, the showcasing of patience and friendship, love and trust and overcoming loss and hardships - together.

Finding your person. Camaraderie. True, real love. A soulmate. This? Despite loss, death at the hands of others, death at the hands of your own, tragedy, hopelessness, mental illness, losing your child? I can't even find words to express what Rick and Michonne mean to me separately, but as a couple? I am unable to express in words because it just would not do justice to what they actually represent to me in my own personal life.

Nearly a month ago we were given The Ones Who Live episode 1. And I remember watching that and having to physically remove myself from my home, go outside, sit down on the ground and reflect while sun soaking near a river. That's how blown away I was over the writing, the story, the emotions centered around this character that I have watched and grown to love over years.

Episode 4? EPISODE 4 is a fucking WELLSPRING of emotions, struggle with mental wellness, disagreement, unconditional love, immense hurt, understanding and patience. A relationship struggling to be what it was, if not anything at all. A broken man and a broken woman. A son, who has DIED years ago still finding a way to be the one who brings his parents back together. Who brings strength to his dad even after all this time...

Carl placed in the palm of his fathers hand as a sketch on a broken phone breathing life back into him. This, from his wife. Finding a way to save him. Giving him a sense of purpose, meaning back to him after he declared his own death not that long ago because he could not and does not ever want to live without her.

You cannot tell me that this show isn't important.

That it isn't life saving.

That it isn't at the very least forcing us to reflect and discuss and acknowledge our own lives, our own relationships, our own mental health, our own circumstances, our -

No.

This isn't just a show to me.

Thanks for reading my vomit novel.

#richonne #rick grimes #michonne grimes #towl #twd towl #the ones who live

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diagnosedpsychosis · 1 year

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hi! I don’t know if you’re taking requests but could you possible write a aaron x bau!fem reader piece based on the episode in s10 where Hayley’s dad still blames Hotch for her death and then Hotch starts to self deprecate and is truly hurt but his words and pushes the reader away unintentionally but then it ends in fluff :) love your work btw!!

YESS!!! This is sooo good!!! Sorry it took so long for me to write and post. Thank you for the request and I hope you like it. (fingers crossed it makes sense cause I finished it half asleep) <3

Word Count: 2.5k

__________________________________________

You didn't know what you'd done wrong. If you'd made a comment, or acted in a way Aaron wasn't fond of, you were sure you must've done something otherwise why would he be avoiding you like the plague?

You'd walk into a room and he would look anywhere but at you. He'd interact with the team, encouraging input and suggestions, but would blind side and ignore anything you'd say, no matter how sound it was to the case. It was almost as if you were invisible, a ghost Aaron couldn't see nor hear.

And he was your boyfriend, and had been for years now.

It's been a couple days since he started acting weird, right after having to pick Roy, Aaron's ex father in law, up from the police station after he'd broken into his old store and tried to 'open up for the day'. Your heart was with the older man who was suffering from Alzheimer's, unable to even begin to imagine going through what he was.

Memories were stripped from him, his reality all over the place as something he thought had only happened yesterday, actually happened years ago. And that happened almost every day.

You'd tried calling Aaron and if the phone didn't go straight to voicemail, it'd drag out, letting you get your hopes up that he'd pick it up. But he didn't. He just kept letting it ring. Even all of your text messages. You didn't know how he was feeling after the whole Roy ordeal, but thinking he might just be a little low you kept to a non overbearing amount of texts, wanting to give him space if that's what he needed. You didn't know what it was he needed though, after all he'd barely spoken 10 words to you in the last 4 days and you were losing patience.

You had tried cornering him at work, in the kitchen but he managed to slip away every time someone walked in. You'd gone into his office and locked the door behind yourself, telling him you needed to talk, but in return he'd tell you he was busy and would then unlock the door himself and not so nicely see you out.

You tried not to take it personally. Maybe he was treating everyone like that?

He wasn't.

Your blood boiled and your heart hammered so loudly in your chest you heard it in your ears. You watched Aaron leave his desk and walk into the conference room where he made conversation with Derek and Emily for more than 5 minutes. He couldn't even give you 5 seconds but he was giving them much more.

Then you watched him stop by Rossi's office on the way back to his, hearing his faint laugh and seeing his soft smile as he turned around and shook his head.

Forget it. Forget him.

You had kept trying to talk to him over and over and over again, and he couldn't spare you a single minute. You were pissed, and so you decided you were leaving early. With a huff you stood up from your seat and with a bit too much force slid your chair back under your desk. All of your team mates immediately noticed your mood, even Derek and Emily when the sound of your chair hitting your desk startled them.

"Y/n, are you alright?" Spencer had barely even gotten the question out before you were grabbing your completed case file and storming up to your boyfriends office.

"Just dandy" You grunted in response, feeling eyes burning into you as you walked up the flight stairs with heavy steps before flinging open Aaron's office door and walking inside without knocking.

His head shot up and his eyes briefly met yours in a deep frown before looking down to your hand and the case file you were gripping so hard your knuckles were turning white.

"Done?" He asked, looking back up at your face. He waited for an answer, frown hardening as you walked up to his desk, slapped the file down and turned around. If he wanted to play the silent game then so could you.

"Y/n?" He called out to you when you didn't answer him. You grabbed the door knob to his office, slamming the door closed behind you as you exited his office and descended the steps back into the bullpen. You felt a thousand pairs of eyes on you, ignoring them all as you grabbed your already packed bag and headed out the bullpen and towards the elevator.

You were too busy listening to your heart hammering in your ears to hear or notice Aaron following after you. You pressed the button for the elevator over and over again, hoping it'd make it open faster.

"Do you even care that you just caused a scene?" You jumped, not expecting to hear Aaron at all, let alone so close to you. But still, you ignored him.

"Silent treatment? How old are you, 5?" Aaron asked and yet you continued to stay silent. A slow, humourless huff left him as the elevator doors opened and you stepped inside. You turned around, now facing him as he stood a couple meters back from the doors.

The second you had turned around and Aaron's eyes met yours his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, face softening at the defeated look on your face as you stared right back at him.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

"If you can't put aside one minute of your day to talk to me, why would you think I wouldn't do the same?" You replied, Aaron standing speechless as the doors closed the second you'd finished talking. He stared right back at his reflection, contemplating going after you. He thought about it, but came to the conclusion that maybe you needed some space to cool down.

You were mad, but still you'd hoped Aaron would follow you past the elevator. You wanted him to come after you, to figure out why you had left and to problem solve and apologise. But he didn't and you realised it after being home for half an hour.

Aaron wanted to go after you, hell you were the love of his life and clearly hurting over something, but he was letting Roy's remarks from days before get to him.

'You make a mistake and I lose my daughter.'

He was terrified of making another mistake and losing you too. He'd already lost Haley twice, once from the divorce and the second time to Foyet, so losing you would absolutely break him to the point of no return.

So he kept his distance. He couldn't make a mistake that'd hurt you if you weren't around. He was willing to do whatever it took to keep you safe, even if it meant hurting himself. He thought he was helping, but he didn't realise he was hurting a lot more than just himself.

Hours passed before Aaron finally decided enough was enough. He could barely work, thoughts of you wrecking his brain as he tried so hard to figure out what was wrong with you. For such an intelligent profiler, he could be a pretty dumb boyfriend.

It was yet to click that him distancing himself from you was why you were irritated, but he was soon going to find out.

He left work before anyone else which was a surprise to the rest of the team as it was exactly 5 o'clock. He grabbed flowers on the way to yours and even picked up your favourite food, hoping it'd be enough to at least let him in. So when he knocked on the door and you opened but left no room for him to squeeze in he realised it was a lot more than you just being irritated. It was serious.

"Hi" He said softly, not wanting to scare you off and cop a door to the face. You stared up at him blankly, your hold on the door knob tight as you itched to close it.

"What do you want, Aaron?" He usually loved the way you said his name, but not now, not when it's so clear you don't want to see him.

"Can I come in?"

"No" Your answer made Aaron rear back in surprise.

"No?" He repeated your answer, the flowers in his hand no longer pressed against his chest, but dangling down at his side.

"Do you wanna know why?" You asked, not giving him any time to answer before you continued.

"Because you're too blind to see what's wrong. Too busy to even spare me a glance, or talk to me when I'm trying to talk to you. Was this what it was like with you and Haley, because if it was it wasn't a relationship" You didn't like bringing Haley up to Aaron. You knew in some ways he was still healing from their divorce and her death, but you also knew that deep down she'd never liked you.

You were new to the team around the time of their divorce and as much as you tried to be the kind of person that was still friendly with their bosses ex, she never gave you the time of day. She'd been threatened by you since day one, even though her and Aaron weren't together anymore.

"So tell me what the hell I've done to push you away from me or I'm never inviting you inside again" Your heart was racing, chest heaving and you stared up at Aaron. Your frown softened ever so slightly as you watched a range of emotions flicker across his face before settling on sadness. He sighed as rubbed his eyes before answering.

"You didn't do anything wrong. You're perfect, you always are. I just-" He paused, tilting his head back and staring up at the roof. Your eyebrows furrowed more. Aaron never had a hard time sharing anything with you, even his emotions, but right now he was struggling and it made you feel bad for forcing an answer out of him.

But you had to. You couldn't continue walking on eggshells around him and wondering when he'll even look in your direction next.

"Roy's never going to forgive me for what happened to Haley" You shook your head slightly, not understanding what Roy had anything to do with you.

"I don't-"

"He made the point that I made a mistake and it got her killed. And I'm just worried that if I make a mistake when you're around..." Aaron drifted off and your heart hurt for him.

"Oh Aaron" You sighed, opening the door further and taking a step out to meet him. You pressed your hand to his chest and dipped your head to meet his eyes. He reluctantly returned your gaze.

"You can't tip toe around me for the rest of your life. If something happens then something happens. It'd never be your fault" You tried to reason with him, but he was still quick to shake his head.

"But y/n-" You cut your boyfriend off, not wanting to hear him blame himself for something that hadn't even happened yet, if ever.

"No buts Aaron. No but's, no if's, no maybe's, no what's. You can't keep avoiding me on the 1 in 100 chance I could get hurt" Aaron sighed, placing his hand on top of yours against his chest.

"I'm not a fan of the 1 in 100 odds" He mumbled, staring down at your lips, not wanting to look into your eyes when he was feeling so sensitive and vulnerable.

"And I'm not a fan of you blaming yourself for something you didn't physically do" You whisper back, bending your head, trying to catch his eyes. When he finally looks up and away from your mouth you offer him the smallest, but most comforting smile you can muster up.

"Honey, you know you did everything you could to protect Haley and Jack. Protective custody, moving them far away from you, cutting off contact until you knew they'd be safe" You list of some of the many thing Aaron did to prove how much he loved and cared for his family. You remember how hard Aaron was taking it when he didn't know where Jack and Haley were and couldn't contact him. It was killing him but he didn't dare force an answer out of anyone because he knew it was what was best to keep them safe.

"It wasn't enough though" Aaron whispers and whilst he still sounds guilty about it, you can hear the slight tension lift in his voice. You're slowly easing his mind and his conscience. You moved your hand from his chest, his arm dropping back down by his side as you bring your hands up to cup his face.

"The point is you tried, and you did everything you yourself could possibly do. Sometimes the bad slips in and takes personal trophies, but you didn't make them feel scared, you made them feel safe and loved" Aaron's eyes are bouncing back and forth between yours, his eyebrows losing some of their tension, finally letting his face relax.

"Roy-"

"Roy owned a store. He never had to get the bad guy and come home all in one day" Your little remark makes Aaron's top lip twitch upwards. You lift yourself up onto your tippy toes, bringing his face down to meet yours as you press a soft, light kiss to his lips.

"At the end of the day all that matters is that you've got a son at home, that loves and adores you. He's not sheltered as much as you wish he was. He knows what happened and it's gonna hurt him for a long time. The memory is gonna hurt him, not you" Aaron presses his forehead against yours, exhaling a deep breath he'd been holding in for days. You were his comfort person, you always knew what to say and do, and if anything now he just felt unbelievably stupid for avoiding the one person that made him feel better.

"Now... What the hell are you still doing here?" Aaron frowns, pulling back slightly, worried for a split second that you're still mad. But then he sees your smirk.

"What?"

"I thought what I said was a pretty good hint towards the fact that there's a little boy somewhere that needs you" Aaron holds up the food he'd bought you and the flowers, shrugging as if to say 'but I'm here to see you'. You laugh, pressing another kiss to his lips.

"I can wait a day or two" Aaron huffs out an airy laugh as you take the food and flowers before retreating back into your apartment. You grin up at him as he watches in disbelief. You're actually not letting him inside.

"I love you" You whisper, grabbing the door knob and slowly closing the door. You pause, staring at Aaron waiting to hear him say it back. He laughs again, shaking his head as he starts slowly backing away, already looking forward to seeing you next.

"I love you more."

#aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x female reader #criminal minds

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cheatingwifelover · 6 months

Text

Our yard guy. Lucas, is a hunter. I hunted in my younger days but in my old age I'm too sentimental to kill any animals. Sometimes when he's taking a break from mowing we talk about shooting. I've been wanting to try some target shooting on a 1,000 yard range but there aren't any I'm aware of near where we live.

Lucas told me about one in the Boerne area and one near DFW. I decided to spend a couple days at the one in the Boerne area and made reservations. My wife didn't want to put our dogs in the kennel to watch me shooting so she decided to stay home.

Off I went with my Ruger Precision Rifle. My plan was to leave early in the morning, do some shooting in the afternoon, spend the night, and drive home after shooting on the second day. I enjoyed the shooting but I missed my wife. On the rare occasions I'm staying overnight somewhere without my wife I call her and we talk on the phone before calling it a night.

I called home that night around 10 PM. No answer. I figured she might be out walking the dogs, or taking a shower, so I left a message for her to call me back. When I hadn't heard from her by 11 PM I called home again. Still no answer. At this point I felt the worry creep in. We hadn't been separated much in our decades long marriage and this was the first time my wife did not either call me herself or answer the phone when I was on an overnight trip.

I started calling every half hour. Every 30 minutes felt like an eternity. I didn't know what to do. I was worn out from the afternoon and fell asleep around 3AM. When I woke up about an hour later There was still no word from her. I tried calling with increasing frequency. I had a drink to relax, then another and another until I once again fell asleep.

I woke again at about 930 AM and checked my phone. There was a message from my wife. I'd had my ringer on vibrate and hadn't heard it. The timestamp on the message was 8:06 AM. She apologized for missing my call and said she was tired and going to bed, and that we could talk when I got back.

When I got back that evening she apologized again, said she didn't know what came over her, but she wasn't in the mood to talk about it. She told me I needed to give her some time. I'd learned over the years that pressing her was not only useless but could also be quite counterproductive so I just let it drop. It took almost a month and a lot of alcohol before she was ready to talk and I was glad I'd waited.

“So where we you when I called,” I asked her when she finally told me she was ready to talk.

“I was with Orin and Tony” was her surprising reply. I wrote about Orin and Tony in “Young Lust,” posted a few months ago, referring to them as O and T.

I immediately grasped the implications and felt my cock starting to harden in anticipation of what I was about to hear.

“What does being with Orin and Tony mean exactly,” I queried? “With them where, how? All night?”

“They took me out and then we went to a motel room.”

I was actually trembling a little when I asked “did you fuck them again?”

“We didn't go to a motel for Bible Study,” she quipped rather snarkily. “Of course we fucked, you're my husband not my owner.”

I had a raging hard on at this point, and out came my cock.

“Come on baby,” I coaxed, “tell me everything. I need to hear details. Don't hold anything back.”

Apparently, Tony had been unable to keep that first time with him and Orin and my wife to himself and had mentioned it to Lucas. Orin was embarrassed when Lucas asked him if it was true that the two of them had fucked my wife.

“Was your friend Tony bullshitting me or did the two of you really fuck Mrs. D” he asked?

“Fucking Tony,” he replied, “I told him to keep his mouth shut.”

“So it's true then,” said Lucas. “I'd love to get some of that myself, I can't believe you two beat me to it.”

“Well,” he continued, “if you want to try your luck with her again her husband is going to be out of town overnight next week. Let me know how it goes.”

Orin and Tony rang our doorbell at around 730 PM the night I was gone. Orin was holding a bouquet of flowers.

“These are for you Mrs D.” he said. “We heard from Lucas that Mr. D isn't home tonight so we thought we'd see if you'd like to go out to dinner with us. Our treat. Or maybe we could just go for a ride?”

“Where are your scooters,” asked my wife?

“At home tonight,” he said, “my parents finally bought me a car. I just have to pay the insurance/”

“It's sweet of you to ask,” she replied, “but I'm not really dressed to go out anywhere.”

“Please Mrs. D, you've been nice to us and we'd like to do something for you. We can wait while you get ready, or come back later.”

My wife couldn't help but feel flattered that these two young men were basically asking her out on a date at her age. What could it hurt she thought.

“Ok,” she relented. “Why don't you two give me some time to get ready. Come back in about an hour, and it's a date.”

As she got ready she downed a couple martinis feeling like if she was going through with this she needed to have a good buzz on. Even before an hour had elapsed she saw them on the security cameras waiting in the driveway. It was cute she thought, two young men this attentive. She wasn't naive though, she knew what was on their minds, what they really wanted, which was why she needed the martinis. Alcohol relaxed her and made her horny.

When she was finally ready she walked out to their car hoping they'd appreciate her outfit, and of course they did.

Tony couldn't restrain himself, “fuck do you look hot Mrs D” he said as he exited the car to make a place for her in the front seat.

“Well thank you Tony,” she replied, “I was hoping you'd like my outfit.”

“Fuck Mrs D, I love it,” Tony replied, climbing into the back seat. “None of our friends mom's are anywhere near as hot as you are.”

“Flattery will take you places,” my wife said in return.

|”We know a club where they don't check ID's” said Orin as my wife climbed into the passenger seat.

“I thought we were going to dinner,” said my wife. “Now I'm thinking you two just want to get me drunk and fuck me.”

“Sorry, Mrs. D, we were just thinking it was kinda late for dinner now,” said Orin.

“It's ok,” my wife said, “the club sounds like it might be fun. I haven't been clubbing for years, much less with two handsome young men as my escorts.”

She'd already down 3 martinis by the time they picked her up. You know what they say I'd quipped to her in the past, 3 martinis under the table, 4 martinis under the host. My wife joined the two of them one martini away from being under the host.

Sure enough, no one at the club asked for any ID. Orin and Tony ordered drinks for my wife but were careful not to drink much themselves. After another couple martinis my wife behaved very much out of character for her in a public place. She took turns sitting on their laps being fingered and making out with each of them, but no one else in the club really seemed to be paying them much attention.

By midnight my wife needed assistance just getting back to their car.

“Where are we going now” she asked, noticing they weren't headed in the direction of home.

“My parents are home,” said Orin, “so Tony and I got us a motel room. Is that ok Mrs D?”

“Sure,” replied my wife pretty much having accepted where the night was heading when the two of them showed up at the door with a bouquet of flowers asking her out on a date. “But I can't stay all night, I have to get home and let our dogs out.”

“I was surprised to see you two tonight” my wife said once they were in the motel room. “I thought you'd had your fun and were no longer interested.”

“No, “ said Orin, “we've both been wanting to fuck you again but this is the first time we've really had the chance. My parents haven't gone anywhere since the first time.”

“Yeah,” chipped in Tony, “we didn't think you'd want to do anything at your place, and we were afraid to try again with your husband around.”

“When Lucas told me your husband was going to be gone tonight we decided we'd try to see you again,” added Orin.

“Why would Lucas say anything about my husband, does he know what we did?”

“He does,” replied Orin, “Tony couldn't keep his big mouth shut.”

“He wants to fuck you too,” chipped in Tony. “He told Orin he couldn't believe we got you before he did.”

Somehow, thought my wife, it all seems rather disturbing, but she was too drunk at the moment to object or care. My husband is away and I'm in a motel room with two young guys who want to fuck me, so why complain? I'm so horny right now I don't care about anything but getting fucked said her inner monologue.

Tony wrapped his arms around my wife and kissed her. Orin took out his cock and began to stroke it watching the two of them making out. Tony slipped one hand down to unzip his pants and my wife extracted his cock, stroking it as they kissed.

Tony put both his hands on her shoulders and applied pressure to push her down onto her knees.

“Suck my cock,” he told her, “be a good wife and put that hot mouth of yours to work for me.”

Tony was the bigger of the two of them and had the biggest cock. He also was the more aggressive of the two and inclined towards arrogance and swagger, an attitude my wife claims to dislike. I have no doubt that his arrogance was at least partially the product of that fat 8 inch cock that was now poised with its own seeming arrogance in front of my wife's face.

“Come on,” said Tony putting both hands behind her head and pushing his cock to her lips, “swallow that fucking cock.”

She was aware of Orin behind them stroking his cock, enjoying the show, even though she couldn't see him. She opened her mouth and did as requested, swallowing that big cock until Tony's balls were pressing against her chin. He relaxed his grip on her head but used both hands to guide her mouth up and down, bouncing his balls on her chin with each stroke.

“Fuck yes,” Tony said to Orin, “look at this fuckin' slut swallow cock. The bitch has zero gag reflex.”

From “Mrs D,” to “bitch,” and “slut,” she felt an atmospheric change in the room but she didn't let it interfere with her performance. She wrapped her left arm behind Tony for support and used her right hand to squeeze and milk his balls as she sucked on that big flesh pipe, determined to drain those heavy balls.

“Fuck, the slut is going to make me cum,” said Tony, but I want to fuck her. Help me stand her back up Orin.”

They each took an arm and lifted her to her feet. She stood before them in her short black dress, hot thick thighs sexily exposed under flesh colored pantyhose hose, and high-heeled black fuck me boots. Tony had resisted the urge to fuck her in the car even before they got to the club but he was going to satisfy that urge now.

“Oh god I so want to fuck you,” said Tony, lifting her dress and exposing her pussy in crotchless pantyhose.”But first I want to suck on those big tits,” he said, tearing open the top of her dress and just pulling her bra down to get them out.

“God I love your big tits Mrs D,” he told her, sucking first one nipple into his mouth and then the other.

Between the making out and fingering in the club, sucking on his big cock, and now Tony sucking her tits, her pussy was gushing. She couldn't remember the last time her husband had made her this wet, if ever.

Meanwhile, Orin grabbed some astroglide they had left on the nightstand when they'd rented the room earlier in the day. He approached her from behind and felt his friend Tony push his cock into her pussy and start fucking her. Orin generously lubed up his cock with the astroglide and then tossed the rest of it onto the bed.

“Hold her still for a second Tony,” he said, then grabbing her hips, began to slowly push his well lubed cock into her ass.

She froze with surprise and the initial pain of anal penetration.

“Don't move,” pleaded my wife, “let me adjust.”

“Ok, go slow” she said momentarily.

Orin eased his cock in balls deep and said, “I'm in her all the way. Fuck is her ass tight. Go ahead Tony, fuck her.”

My wife wrapped her arms around Tony's neck, kissing him deeply as the two boys began to establish a rhythm. Now that the initial pain of anal penetration had dissipated she shuddered in pleasure at the sensation of the two of them pushing into her at the same time. The pressure of two cocks thrusting into her was simply exquisite. She felt like she was being hoisted into mid-air by young cock. She'd always enjoyed anal sex, or at least tolerated it, but with a cock in her cunt at the same time she remember how good it felt and wondered why she hadn't indulged it more frequently?

She felt Orin behind her turning her head away from Tony, wanting to kiss her. It was a little awkward but she kissed him back as best she could then turned back to Tony. The lust these two young men expressed for her ignited her own passion, deepened by a pending explosion of pleasure she felt about to overwhelm her. She was glad she hadn't gone with her husband but she felt a brief flicker of guilt at the thought before returning herself completely to the moment.

She suddenly felt Orin wrap his arms over her shoulders and push her body down into him. He thrust up on his tiptoes trying to push every millimeter of his cock into her ass. She could feel his body shudder and knew he was about to cum.

“Oh fuck,” he exclaimed....”oooohhhhhh....fuck” and she felt his cock pulsating and emptying into her.

She had been trying to hold back, to extend sensation as long as possible, but Orin cumming as he did pushed her over the edge and she was unable to contain the explosion. She saw light flashing behind her eyes and felt momentarily like she might pass out.

Oh my god,” she cried out, “oh my god,” feeling her whole body flooded with wave after wave of orgasmic bliss.

Orin pulled his cock out of her with an audible “plop” and settled back, practically falling into the chair behind him. Tony wasn't done yet and continued pumping his cock into her married pussy with increasing vigor. He turned her around and began backing her towards the bed as he fucked her.

His cock never entirely left her cunt as he re-positioned her onto the bed and climbed on top of her. He reached up and squeezed her big tits, and then started sucking her nipples, first one, then the other, alternating continuously as he fucked her.

She felt another orgasm building. As Tony continued pistoning into her and working her tits with hands and mouth, she reached down between their bodies and fingered her clit. She thought she'd felt Tony cum in her but he didn't get soft or stop pumping that big cock into her so she wasn't sure. She came again and just laid there as his cock kept sawing into her.

She was aware of Orin approaching and was surprised to hear him tell Tony to turn her so that her head was at the edge of the bed.

“Help me with her then,” said Tony, “I don't want to stop fucking her.”

Between the two of them they managed to move her into the desired position without Tony having his cock slip from her pussy.

“Again already,” she asked Orin, looking up at his hard cock hovering over her face.

“We both took some Viagra before we left the club,” he replied to her surprise. “We didn't know when we'd get another chance like this with you and didn't want to waste a minute of it.”

She didn't know whether she should feel flattered or used, but in the moment wondered if it really mattered.

Getting her head just right over the edge of the bed Orin bent his knees slightly, placing his cock against her mouth.

“Suck my cock Denise,” he told her, using her name for the first time.

He'd always called her Mrs D before and she didn't realize he even knew her name. There was something about it that seemed to make it feel more intimate, narrowing the gap between them, and yet at the same time a little threatening.

“Oh yeah, that's it” he told her as he pushed his cock into her throat. “I've missed this mouth Denise, I've never met another girl who can suck a cock like you do.”

He called her a girl. Was that a good thing or a bad thing she wondered? As Tony continued to fuck her pussy Orin now fucked her throat, pushing into her until his balls were pressing against her nose. Not pulling all the way back each time but keeping most of his cock in her warm mouth then pushing back all the way into her throat.

Tony had never stopped pumping into her, never gone soft, but she thought she had felt him cum in her two or three times without slowing down. Now Orin seemed renewed and kept plunging his cock into her mouth and throat until her jaws ached. She fully understood what it meant to be spit roasted. She felt like meat on a spit but there was something about the idea of it, of her, a married woman three times their age taking cock like this, that overcame with lust any doubts or reservations.

She wanted to be the “girl” of their sexual fantasies, to be the unforgettable female they would savor the memory of for their entire lives, and she threw herself even more completely into the moment and into the night. They need not worry about having another chance with her, she'd make it happen, and she'd get her cuckold husband to help. Not help sexually, but to help create the opportunity for her to enjoy them like this again.

Orin interrupted her reverie by pulling his cock out of her mouth and dangling his balls over her lips.

“Suck my balls Denise,” he told her.

She took his heavy balls into her mouth and sucked on them, something she had never done for me, and the idea of it increased her arousal. She felt him pushing down with his cock as she sucked, apparently trying to get it into her mouth at the same time. She opened her mouth as wide and she could and heard him moan as she managed to get both his balls and his cock into her warm wet mouth.

“Oh fuck that's good,” he moaned. “Suck it, fuck, I'm gonna cum,” he said, and pushed in with his cock just as he erupted down her throat.

She didn't miss a drop and neither did she stop sucking on his cock and balls. He never softened. Maybe she could make him cum again like that she though and decided she would try. Tony was still sawing his big cock into her cunt. She didn't want the night to end. She kept hearing her cell phone ringing in her purse. She knew it had to be her husband calling like he did whenever he spent a night away but she didn't care. Good cock had to come before good husbands.

“Let's change up,” said Tony. “Let's DP the slut again, and this time I want that ass.”

Orin got on the bed and Tony helped my drunk wife straddle him. She guided his cock into her married cunt and he pulled her down to suck her big tits which were hanging out of her dress.

“If Lucas was here we could make this bitch airtight,” said Tony, climbing onto the bed behind her.

“Maybe next time,” said Orin.

Tony picked up the astroglide Orin had earlier thrown on the bed and lubed his cock to fuck my wife up the ass.

“Oh my fucking god,” he said as he pushed his big cock into her ass. “This shit is fucking tight. I was wasting my time in the slut's cunt.”

“You belong to us now Denise,” said Tony as he fucked my wife up the ass. “We won't be waiting so long to have you next time.”

At some point everything became a blur. Memory faded. She woke up between them and looked at her watch. Fuck, almost 8 AM. Her husband must be worried and near panic. She shook Orin awake.

“You have to take me home,” she said, “right now, if you ever want to do this again.”

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