#really the only thing that he would still be playing for in europe would be for his fans | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toomanystoriessolittletime · 1 year

Text

Revenge

Summary: Scared to end up alone you hang on to your marriage of 15 years to your cheating husband, continuing to play the perfect wife. But then you meet Dave York, your husbands boss, on one of his work events and things take a very surprising turn....

Pairing: Dave York x fem. Reader

Wordcount: 5.5k

Rating: E

Warnings: infidelity, angst, forced cucking (cheating husband has to watch his wife have sex with one Dave York), smut (unprotected sex, oral f receiving), Cum play, public fingering, use of the word whore, intense eye contact, flirting like woah

A/N: I worked on this for four weeks and I'm super proud of it. Please let me know what you think. Some people might recognise the scene at the bar from the movie Shame.

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics an turn on notifications to get notified for new fic updates

You would be lying if you said you did not imagine yourself in this situation before.

Sitting with an attractive man at a bar, flirting. Maybe even something more…

Many lonely nights in the bed you should be sharing with your husband left your mind wandering to what life could be like if you had married a man who respected and loved you.

Though you were pretty sure Calvin did love you in the beginning, maybe he even loved you now. In his… own way. It just changed somewhere between moving into your first real home together and you getting a job that paid more than his.

You just weren’t enough to… satisfy all his physical needs anymore, hadn’t been for a long time. It was an open secret that he was cheating on you, you just weren’t brave enough to leave him, even though you could. You had the job, the friends, the money. You just… did not know how to be alone.

Which was a stupid thing to think because you spent the majority of your relationship being alone.

It came to a point where you weren’t even mad or hurt anymore, whenever you found stains of lipstick on his shirts that you for some reason still washed for him.

It was… easier living this lie than separating from the man you had been with for the last fifteen years. You loved the life you had built together. You just wished you weren’t so miserable and lonely living it alone.

You hadn’t slept with Calvin since you found out about the first time he cheated on you, which was almost eight years ago. He said he was sorry, begged for your forgiveness, which you granted him. But you told him that you wouldn’t sleep with him before he would prove that you could trust him to be honest and faithful with you. That, and a clean bill of health.

He never did.

You were more like roommates at this point. And even though you did not know the exact extent of his infidelity, you still played the perfect wife for him whenever he needed you to.

You looked away when he flirted with women much younger than you when you were out. Which wasn’t often. Only when there was something from work or something your friends had invited you both.

It was one of those work events he insisted you accompany him, leaving you sitting alone as soon as you entered the place at the bar.

You were about to call it a day when a man sat down next to you.

Calvin was off somewhere while you were sitting in a darker corner at the bar, enjoying your martini as he, his boss Dave York, introduced himself to you, inviting you for another drink

There was something in his eyes when you told him your name. A glint of interest when he learned that you were the wife of Calvin Miller.

You learned that Dave was recently divorced and had moved into an overpriced penthouse that felt too empty and sterile. His wife had fallen in love with another woman and because he did not want to stay in the way of her happiness, he had let her and his two daughters move all the way to Europe while he stayed back.

Dave York was… charming, hot and had something dangerous about him that made you only more interested in him. It was the first time in a long time that you felt like someone was really interested in you and what you had to say.

You saw Calvin across the room, talking to one of the serving girls who was blushing furiously as she looked at him while he tried to charm his way into her pants.

Sighing you closed your eyes, taking a sip from your drink, breathing in deeply, finding Dave looking at you.

“You know he’s fucking himself through the whole city right?” he asked.

You nodded.

“I know he’s cheating frequently, I just.. Chose to ignore how many women exactly he fucks as long as it doesn’t happen in our home.”

Dave sucked his bottom lip in, intrigued.

“You don’t mind?”

You shrugged.

“Part of me does. Sometimes I feel like a coward for not leaving him. I know I deserve more. I deserve someone who loves me and respects me. Who asks me how my day was, who notices when I got a new hair colour, who…. Fuck I just feel so lonely sometimes.”

“So why don’t you leave him?”

“Honestly?” you whispered, sucking your bottom lip in. Dave nodded, turning in his seat to lean a little closer towards you. You smelled his aftershave, allowing yourself to take a deep breath before you answered him.

“I don’t think I know how to live on my own, and staying where I am even if it sucks is… easier? We met in highschool, got married before we got out of college. I have spent my whole adult life with him. Fuck… I never even had sex with anyone other than him,” you chuckled humorlessly.

“Do you want to?” Dave asked and you looked up.

“Do I want what?”

“Have sex with someone else?”

His hand came to rest on your knee and you shivered, your eyes on his hand. His fingers were softly squeezing just above your knee. You felt each of his fingers on you, only separated by the thin material of the silk dress you were wearing. You looked up, your lips parting.

“Dave…”

“He doesn’t deserve you, you know? If I had you in my house, in my home, in my bed?” he leaned in closer, his lips brushing over your ear and your eyes slipped close. Unintentionally you parted your legs, your dress revealing a glimpse of your inner thigh and you shuddered as he took this as an invitation, his fingers slowly running up your inner thigh.

“I’d make sure your pussy is the only one I’m fucking. I might be an asshole, but I’m a loyal asshole,” his nose brushed over your neck as he seemed to inhale your scent, his fingers slipping deeper between your legs which seemed to part even wider for him with ease.

“Did he ever go down on you?” he hummed, his fingers brushing over the soaked fabric of your lace panties. You released a shuddering breath, closing your eyes.

“I bet he hasn’t treated this pussy properly. I’d make sure you’d soak my face every single day when I had you in my bed, my kitchen counter, my desk…” his fingers hooked into your panties, pulling them to the side.

“Look at me,” he whispered and while your eyes opened he slowly pushed two of his fingers inside of you. A part of you knew that you were in a public space, yet looking into Dave’s dark eyes made you feel like you were the only two people on the planet.

He slowly moved his fingers, your body screaming in pleasure from the way his fingers seemed to know just how to touch you, while you tried to keep a straight face as he kept looking at you with dark eyes.

“I like to slip my tongue deep inside of you,” he hummed and you couldn’t help but gasp as his fingers pulled out of your pussy, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. You looked down at his fingers, your eyes following them as he brought them up to his lips. You could see them glistening with your juices, while he brought them up to his mouth sucking them clean.

“Just when you’re about to cum, licking you clean before I finally give you my big cock,” he tilted his head to the side, looking at you as he licked his lips with a filthy smirk.

You jumped in your seat when an arm sneaked around your middle from behind, your eyes leaving Dave’s to find Calvin standing next to you, glaring at you before he looked at Dave.

“I see you met my wife, Dave,” he said.

“I did and It’s Mr. York to you, Miller,” Dave said bored, picking up his drink to take a sip, keeping his eyes on you.

You were still flushed, your brain trying to get back to speed.

“How come you are here with your wife and not in the bathroom getting your dick sucked by one of the college waitresses, Miller?” Dave asked.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Dave,” Calvin said, letting go of you to grab your drink, chugging it down himself. Dave looked amused at you and then at him, his face hardening.

“Come on, we’re all friends here, don’t lie in front of your wife,” he said. You risked a glance at Calvin who looked at his boss with his lips parted in shock.

Dave looked at you then, a silent challenge in his eyes.

“I love my wife,” Calvin said and you snorted. His head snapped to look at you.

“You sure have a funny way of showing it,” you rolled your eyes and Dave laughed.

“Tell you what, why don’t you go back to whatever cunt you were after and I keep your wife company,” Dave said.

“With all due respect, Dave…” Calvin began to talk but Dave shot him a dark look.

“Call me Dave one more time and see what happens, Mister Miller,” he threatened and you felt Calvin stiffen beside you. Interesting.

He took a deep breath before he looked at you.

“I was gonna head home,” Calvin said, looking at you with a question in his eyes. You turned your head to look at Dave. You didn’t want to leave. And you knew Calvin only lied about going home because he either didn’t find someone else to fuck or… because he had a weird spurge of jealousy now that someone was giving you attention and felt like he had a claim on you. Which a silly part of your brain made you feel powerful.

“I’m sure Dave can give me a ride later?” you asked, with an eyebrow raised. Dave chuckled, one of his hands coming back to rest on your knee.

“Of course I can, Sweetheart.”

When Dave drove you home a couple hours later, Calvin wasn’t home. Not that you were surprised.

Dave and you had spent the whole evening talking. And flirting. Call it needy and years of neglect, but fuck you wanted him.

You invited Dave in for a drink and he followed you into your home.

Sitting beside him in your living room you sighed.

“I feel so… Fuck I don’t know. Weak? Silly? Worthless? Like a fucking victim, even though I have everything I need to just…. Live my own life and don’t let him humiliate me like that.”

Dave sighed.

“Ending a marriage is not easy. Feelings aren’t something you can’t just turn off. You’re not worthless. You are… fucking perfect,” Dave said and you turned your head to look at him.

“I want him to feel how humiliated he makes me feel,” you said.

“What are you thinking?”

You sucked your bottom lip in, blaming the idea forming in your head on your slightly tipsy brain.

“Are you free on friday?” you asked, a plan forming in your mind. He narrowed his eyes.

“I can be.”

You nodded, sucking your bottom lip in. You took both of your glasses, setting them down on the coffee table. Dave watched your every move as you got up, coming to stand between his legs.

You didn’t know if it was the drinks you had or the way Dave York had given you his whole attention for the last hours, but you just wanted to feel something. Or someone.

“It’s our anniversary,” you said quietly as you slowly settled down into Dave’s lap, straddling him. His hands came to rest on your upper thighs immediately, his hands pushing the skirt of your dress up, as your hands rested on his shoulders. You closed your eyes, your skin heating under his intense gaze.

“I haven’t been fucked in eight years,” you whispered, moaning when you felt Dave’s hands wander over your body, squeezing your ass, pulling you closer towards him. You gasped as your clit rubbed just right over his growing bulge.

“And… And I think I want you to fuck me while he has to watch,” unintentionally you began to move your hips against him. He smirked.

“Eight years?” he asked and you nodded. He hummed.

“Can I touch you?”

“Please,” you whispered and he suddenly pulled at the belt of your wrap dress, the fabric falling open.

“Fuck me,” he uttered under his breath, the green lace lingerie you were wearing driving him wild. One of his hands came back to squeeze your ass, while his other hand palmed one of your breasts.

“Can you cum like that? Just with your needy little clit rubbing against me?” he asked and you moaned, your head nodding.

“Then make yourself cum,” he said, before he leaned in and sucked on your nipple through your bra.

“Fuck,” you cried out, rubbing yourself against him.

“That’s it, you want me to fuck you in front of your cheating husband? Then cum for me,” he snarled, slapping your ass.

“I’m gonna… Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, throwing your head back as your orgasm rolled through your body, making you shake against Dave. He helped you ride it out before you felt his hand in your neck as he pulled you towards him, crashing his lips against yours in a deep kiss.

“When should I be here on friday?“ He asked and you smiled.

Like every year, Calvin invited you for dinner for your anniversary in your favourite restaurant.

Or more like, in the restaurant he thought was your favourite restaurant.

He had given you the silent treatment since you decided to spend the evening with Dave instead of him, and you weren’t complaining.

Something had changed since that night. You changed.

He bought you a gift (a new vacuum cleaner, my god were you lucky), kissed you on the cheek and then ordered your dinner for you as soon as you sat down in the restaurant.

You were quiet all evening, letting him vent about work and about how lucky he was to have you as his wife, smiling like the obedient little wife you were for him.

Whenever he got up for a smoke, or to the bathroom or to order new drinks from the blonde bartender you reached for your phone, texting with Dave.

It had been six days since you met him and the lust you were feeling for him was almost overwhelming. Maybe it had to do with you being sexually frustrated, but the way he talked to you made you want to be his good girl, eager to please him however you wanted to.

He was very attentive, sending you gifts every single day while Calvin was in the office. You were working from home, surprised when Monday rolled around and a bouquet of red roses were delivered around lunch time.

The next day it was a bracelet.

The day after that lingerie.

Part of you was overwhelmed with the attention you were receiving, while another part just wanted to let you enjoy it.

You were rational, you knew whatever would happen with Dave York would not have a future. He wanted to fuck you, and you wanted to be fucked. Badly.

And who were you to argue about your husbands boss being the one to fuck you brains out as a little… revenge?

You rolled your eyes as you saw the waitress slip Calvin his number after he went to pay.

You had an AirBNB booked and most of your clothes and stuff already moved there yesterday. Earlier today you met with an divorce attorney.

This was happening.

You would be leaving him. Tonight.

After he watched you being fucked by his boss.

The only concern you had about the plan you set in motion was how you would make Calvin stay. But Dave had only told you that he’d make sure he would, not telling you how exactly he would achieve it. But you trusted him anyway.

You had done a lot of thinking this last week. Maybe you had just needed someone to confide in, to tell you that you were worth more than being just a silly little wife.

Healing from these last years would take a while, but you were ready to take your life back.

Starting today.

You had told Dave that you would leave the backdoor unlocked, so you weren’t surprised when you found him sitting in the armchair next to your bed in the bedroom when you made your way upstairs after coming back home.

Calvin was downstairs, picking a bottle of wine most likely in the hopes to get you drunk so he could try to get into your pants later.

He tried this every year, some weird sense of martial duty coming over him. Not that he ever succeeded.

And you had to give it to him, at least he did not spend your wedding anniversary fucking another pussy.

“Hey,” Dave hummed, getting up as he walked over to you.

“Hey,” you smiled, nerves kicking in as your head tilted down, watching your feet nervously.

“You look beautiful,” he said and you couldn’t help but sigh. You had decided on a new dress, black, with a zipper in the front that ran down the whole length. You wanted do look pretty.

For Dave.

You felt his fingers tilt your chin up, his eyes finding yours.

“Are you still sure about this?” he asked. You took a deep breath before you nodded slowly.

“Just… Just nervous. It’s been a while…. And…. I don’t know about him… here”

“We can get out of here. Just say the word and I’ll leave.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” you brought a hand up, resting it on his chest. He covered your hand with his.

“I want you to….” you pursed your lips, unable to say those words.

“You want me to fuck you?” he whispered with a small grin. You nodded.

“I want to fuck you too. Been thinking about your pussy since last week. Tasted so fucking good. You just need to decide if you want me to fuck you here, with your soon to be ex husband watching, or if I should take you to my place and make this pussy, my pussy, weep for me,” you felt his breath on your face as he whispered those words, your knees getting weak.

“How… How about… both?” you finally asked with a shy little smile.

He kissed you then, his lips pressing against yours for a quick but powerful moment. You whimpered.

“Greedy,” he hummed with a smirk.

“Where is he?” Dave asked as he slowly led you to your bed.

“Getting wine to make me drunk enough to fuck him,” you snorted and Dave rolled his eyes.

You yelped when he pushed you against the mattress, hovering over you immediately, his eyes darkening. You parted your legs and he settled between them. Your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his weight on top of you.

“Pathetic little fucker,” Dave hissed before he kissed you again.

You melted against him.

His tongue invaded your mouth, playing with yours, one of his hands running up your thigh.

“Dave,” you gasped, clutching the sheets as he kissed down your jaw.

“You smell so fucking good,” he hummed, softly sucking on your neck. his fingers playing with the front zipper of your dress, pulling it slowly until the pink lace he had gifted to you was revealed beneath.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” you heard a yell, following from a bottle shattering on the floor. Dave did not stop pulling at the zipper, his eyes on yours, until your bra was fully visible, the delicate lace hiding next to nothing.

“I’m about to eat your wife’s pussy,” Dave said and you could not help but moan as he lowered his head, his lips kissing the soft skin above your tits.

“You can’t… What the fuck…” Calvin cursed and you caught his eyes when he rounded the bed, now standing so he could look at you.

“Sucks to be on the other side, huh?” you asked him, hearing Dave chuckle, before he pulled at the lace, his lips closing around your left nipple, making you arch your back against his chest.

“You’re… you’re my wife,” Calvin argued and you moaned as Dave sucked.

“Happy fucking anniversary,” you moaned, your hands unclenching from the sheets to bring them into Dave’s hair, pushing him against your tits.

“I’m… I’m not gonna watch this,” Calvin said in disbelief, intending to turn around and leave.

“You sit right there on that chair and watch me fuck your wife, Miller,” Dave hissed, voice dangerously low, turning his head to look at Calvin who stopped in his tracks.

You pussy clenched at his tone.

“Or what?” Calvin asked, not looking back. Dave found your eyes, kissing you quickly before he got up from the bed, walking over to Calvin.

He leaned into him, whispering something against his ear. You saw Calvin clench his fists as he took a deep breath before he slowly turned around and walked over to the chair Dave had apparently put there just for him.

Calvin’s eyes found yours and he clenched his jaw as he sat down.

“Now, where were we?” Dave asked and you turned your head to look at him. Slowly he unbuttoned his dress shirt, pushing it off his shoulder, revealing his broad chest. Your eyes lingered all over his body, the prominent outline of his cock confided in his pants making your mouth water.

Funny that just a week ago you had not missed sex at all, when now you could not wait for the man in front of you to ruin you.

You sucked your bottom lip in as you looked up at him.

“Calvin, what was I about to do before you interrupted us?” he asked, his eyes not leaving your body.

There was no answer, until a dark look came over Dave’s face, breaking eye contact to you only briefly to look at you husband.

“You wanted to… eat my wife’s pussy,” he said quietly and Dave’s eyes lit up as he looked at you.

“That’s right,” he said, before his hands wrapped around your ankles, pulling you down towards the end of bed. He leaned down, his hand pulling at the front zipper of your dress, parting the fabric. His lips following the zipper with every inch of your skin it revealed to him.

“Like unwrapping a gift,” he said, kissing your stomach. He helped you get out of the dress, throwing it aside, before he got down on his knees, pulling each of your legs over his shoulders.

Dark eyes found yours as he leaned closer towards your pussy, taking a deep breath.

“When was the last time someone ate this pussy?” he asked, his fingertips coming to gently trace the pattern of the by now see through lace hiding your cunt from him. You were obscenely wet for the man kneeling between your legs.

“Years,” you sighed.

“Shame,” Dave tsked, kissing your inner thigh. You closed your eyes as his lips wandered up your thigh, almost to where you wanted him most when he kissed back down, starting the same pattern on your other thigh.

“Dave,” you moaned.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asked, raising his eyebrow in a silent challenge as he looked up at you.

“Make me cum,” you said and he grinned.

“With pleasure.”

The moment Dave’s tongue slipped through your folds felt like the world shifted. He did not tease you, his tongue dipping inside of you while his nose moved over your clit had you moaning out wantonly. You fought the urge to throw your head back and close your eyes, keeping your eyes trained on the man who had you on the edge of an orgasm without even really having started.

The moan coming from his mouth as he tasted you for the first time was downright pornographic and a memory you’d replay often in the future.

He moved his tongue between your folds before he went higher, his tongue flicking over your throbbing clit.

“Fuck,” you moaned out, your hands hesitantly reaching for him, one of his hands grabbing your wrists, pulling them closer towards him, your fingers disappearing in his soft hair. You scratched your fingernails over his scalp and he sucked your clit between his lips with a groan.

You were sure you were dripping on the sheets, your legs crossed behind his shoulders as you moved your hips against his mouth.

“I’m close….” you whimpered, your lips parted as you panted for air, your eyes closing for a moment before they snapped open when Dave slapped your thigh.

“Look at me when I make you cum,” he grunted.

With your eyes trained on him, your hand in his hair and his mouth on you it wasn’t long before he made you cum, your thighs shaking around his head as he continued to lick you up, giving you by far the best orgasm of your life while you moaned out his name.

He gave your pussy one last kiss, before he got to his feet.

“Ready for my cock?” he asked.

Slowly you sat yourself up, getting on your knees on the bed in front of him, pulling him down towards you, so you could kiss him. Your hands found his belt, unbuckling it.

“How do you want me?” you mumbled against his lips, eager to have him inside of you. You felt his lips twitch into a smile against yours, his hands unclasping your bra behind you, pulling it off your shoulders.

One of your hands finally slipped into his pants, pulling his cock out.

You tried to play off your surprise, but Dave saw your eyes widening. He pecked your lips.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, we gonna make it fit,” he winked.

You risked a glance down to his hard cock. He was not much bigger than your husbands, but much thicker. Precum pooled on the angry red tip, and you bent down before you could stop yourself, your tongue licking it off, moaning as you tasted him.

“Fuck,” Dave moaned and you looked up at him, seeing his eyes fixed on you.

You had his whole attention and you were loving it.

“Some other time sweetheart,” he said warmly, one of his hands cupping your cheek.

“Now I want you on your back so I can watch those perfect tits shake when I fuck my pussy,” he said. You shivered before you slipped back towards the center of the bed. Dave took his pants, boxers and socks off before he joined you on the bed. You parted your legs for him as he came to kneel between them, his hand lazily pumping his cock.

You had discussed protection in the week leading up to today, coming to know that Dave had a vasectomy years ago. With him getting tested regularly and you not having had sex with anyone in a long time you had given him the freedom to decide if he wanted to use condoms or not.

A big part of you was happy he didn’t because you wanted to feel him. All of him.

He nudged his tip against your folds, moving it over your clit repeatedly. He reached for a pillow, your husband's pillow, propping it under your hips.

“You’re dripping for me sweetheart,” he grinned. You sighed, your hands coming to play with your nipples.

Slowly his tip slipped inside of you and you stopped breathing for a second, enjoying the delicious stretch of his length parting your folds.

“Shit Baby…” you moaned, sucking your bottom lip in.

Ever so slowly, giving you time to adjust his cock filled you.

“You’re so fucking wet. Perfect just… fuck just perfect,” he praised you, groaning when his hips met yours, his cock completely inside of you.

You felt so fucking full.

“Move,” you whined.

“You’re such a whore,” you heard another voice, your eyes blinking as you registered your husband's voice, having completely forgotten about him.

You found Dave’s eyes on you before you turned your head to find Calvin obediently sitting in the chair Dave had pulled for him.

You took a deep breath before you turned your head to look at Dave again.

“At least I’m your whore then,” you said to Dave and he grinned before he bottomed out and thrusted back into you. You cried out.

He snapped his hips against yours, his hands grabbing your hips as he pumped into you. You threw your arms back, grabbing the headboard.

Sex had never felt like this. Yes, you did not have much to compare it to, but fuck that was what you missed? He ruined you, slowly, with every thrust inside of you, with every brush of his fingers on your body. He watched mesmerized as your tits shook with every thrust, before his arms pulled you up against him, into his lap, your chest against his. You crossed your arms behind him, your hands on his neck as he fucked up into you. His hands helping you move on top of him.

“Whose pussy is this from now on?” he asked, his voice dark.

“Yours Dave, fucking yours,” you moaned.

“Fuck yes,” he grunted, slapping your ass. Your pussy clenched around him and you watched him cock his eyebrow.

“You like that huh?” he smirked, doing it again and you moaned.

“Maybe you are my little whore after all,” he hummed against your ear, thrusting into you. He continued to slap your ass until you exploded around him, crying out as he fucked your through your orgasm.

It wasn’t long before he twitched inside of you, warmth filling you as he moaned against your lips.

Both panting against each other's lips you smiled, letting your hand fall against his, before he leaned down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, making you clench around his cock.

“That… That never happened before…” you said and he frowned, looking up at you.

“I never came when he fucked me,” you clarified and Dave’s jaw twitched before he kissed your lips.

“I should kill that fucker for how he treated you,” he mumbled against your lips and for reasons you had to unpack at another time, the thought made you clench around him.

“Interesting,” he mumbled, giving you a wink.

“You came inside of her? What the fuck?” you rolled your eyes back as you heard Calvin exclaim.

“And he made me cum. Twice. Guess it was not my fault you couldn’t after all,” you said without looking at him.

Dave chuckled, before he helped you off, his cum dripping into the sheets. He slipped his fingers between your legs, pushing his cum back into you, before he brought his fingers up, holding them out for you. You sucked them clean for him, moaning at your combined taste.

But as much as you wanted just to lay back and enjoy the afterglow, you did not want to spend any more time than necessary in this house.

Dave helped you out of bed, helping you into your dress before he got back into his clothes, pocketing your ruined panties and bra.

He gave you a small smile, taking your hand.

You walked towards the bedroom door when you stopped and turned around.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Calvin screamed behind you and Dave turned around faster than you could notice, his hand stopping Calvin’s wrist before he could reach you. He yelped in pain and Dave let go, stepping between you and your soon to be ex husband.

You took a deep breath, putting a hand on Dave’s shoulder who looked at you over his shoulder. You gave him a small nod, before you stepped to the side, still close enough, so he could intervene. Calvin was still looking at Dave with what you think was terror in his eyes.

“Did you think I would stay by your side while you fucked your way through the country forever? Humiliate me like that? I loved you. I wanted to spend my life with you, but you threw that away. And he helped me to see that. It’s embarrassing how long it took me. So we’re getting divorced, Calvin. You can keep the house and I keep my dignity. And my money,” you said.

Calvin looked at you now, his eyes filling with tears.

“Don’t you love me?” he asked, his voice small.

You took a deep breath, looking at the man you once loved so much. Feeling nothing.

“Not anymore,” you said, giving him a small sad smile before you took Dave’s hand.

Dave gave Calvin one last look before he grabbed your purse and led you out of the house.

#my fic #Dave york #dave york x female reader #Pedro pascal #fanficion #fanfic #fan fiction #dave york fanfiction #Dave york x fem. reader

731 notes · View notes

theragethatisdesire · 1 year

Text

"ti penso ogni giorno" - eren x reader - 18+!!!

first fic! kind of threw this together while traveling and had no beta readers, so please be nice to me. i've been spending some time in the italian countryside and got a little inspired.

pairing: reader x eren jaeger

wc: 7.5k (jesus christ)

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut (duh), consensual hook-up, unprotected sex, rough sex, vaginal fingering, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, princess), slight breeding kink (if you squint) crying, multiple orgasm, creampie, aftercare

**title means "i think about you every day" in italian :')

Standing on top of this mountain looking over unfamiliar fields, you don’t remember a time in the recent past you’ve felt so at peace, the quiet fluttering of the sparrows easing the ever-present ache in your heart.

It was a tasteful ceremony. A small church in the middle of the Chianti region, in a little town with a name you couldn’t pronounce, decorated with so many candles that the room was sweltering, even with the breeze wafting in from the hills. Mikasa and Jean’s little girl, Clara, had played the role of flower girl perfectly; you hadn’t seen her since she was a newborn, and there she was, toddling down the aisle on fat little three-year-old legs. Historia and Ymir were beautiful brides, practically unchanged over the years, still as consumed with each other as they had been in college.

Even now, you distinctly remember a drunken night when Ymir promised Historia that she would take her to Europe one day, and here she was, marrying her beloved blonde in the heart of Italy. Another memory surfaces, parallel to that one, of someone looping an arm around your waist as you watched college-Ymir make her declaration, a whisper in your ear of the same promise. You pack that up and tuck it away as soon as it surfaces, scratching at your elbow.

“What are you doing out here?” Mikasa’s voice is behind you, drawing closer. You smile down at Clara, holding her mother’s hand and wobbling out into the grass.

“Just thinking,” you sigh, swishing your wine around in its glass, “I should come back in and join the party.”

“They just finished the champagne toast, but you haven’t missed the first dance,” Mikasa agrees.

You take Clara’s other hand and reluctantly allow yourself to be led back into the thick of things, the two of you swinging the little girl between you. Her shrieks of joy make you smile in spite of yourself, calming the nerves fluttering around in your stomach. Years had passed and things had changed, you and everyone else around you included.

It was a gorgeous reception, even more beautiful than the ceremony. They’d chosen a huge stone patio outside of the massive villa they’d rented, covered by columns of stone arching up to form a roof and dripping with flowered vines. It was exactly what you would’ve chosen, so beautiful it didn’t need decoration. Simple, natural, Tuscan.

“He didn’t bring a date,” Mikasa murmurs to you as you enter the terrace, scanning the room for Jean. She didn’t need to specify who “he” was; you had seen him at the ceremony, longer hair than you remembered, two rows ahead of you. Even if you hadn’t, the sad truth was there was really only one “he” for you, and Mikasa knew that.

“What do you want me to do with that?” You respond, trying and failing to mask your discomfiture with irritation.

“Whatever you want,” Mikasa shrugs, vague as always, scooping Clara up onto her hip and striding across the tented reception to Jean. You watch her go, watch Jean take Clara and kiss Mikasa, envy and self-pity clawing at your heart.

Ymir and Historia chose a slower song than you expected; it must be Historia’s doing that they were doing a first dance at all. Ymir had made it exceptionally clear during the bachelorette trip that all of the frills were to make Historia happy, and she was mostly looking forward to the honeymoon. The memory makes you snort into your empty wine glass, until you catch a glimpse of green eyes across the room.

Eren’s suit is more expensive than anything you knew he owned, sharp at the corners and resembling something your boss’ boss would wear. Mikasa had mentioned months ago that Eren and Zeke’s business was really taking off, but you find yourself wondering if these were the clothes he wore now, or if it was a splurge. He’s staring at you, no surprise there. Breakup aside, Eren’s the most possessive person you’ve ever known, and anything that was his is always his, at least from his point of view. That was part of the problem, you reflect, tracing your red fingernail around the rim of your wine glass.

The first dance concludes and amidst the applause, waiters begin circling the room with hors d'oeuvres, little bits of smoked salmon and crudite platters. After the travel and ceremony, you’re ravenous, and you begin weaving your way through the crowd to track down a tray with carbohydrates on it.

You’re halfway through stuffing a croquette into your mouth when Armin interrupts you, chuckling. “Hungry?”

“I only flew over this morning,” you excuse yourself, dabbing at your mouth with a cocktail napkin. Armin doesn’t care, you know that, but after the last few years of cocktail hours with the most influential magazine and website owners in the world, manners are second-nature.

“At least it was a short flight. You came from…Belgium?”

“Moscow,” you shrug, “four hour flight into Milan, two hour train, hour long car service.”

“Car service?” Armin cocks an eyebrow. “Haven’t you gotten fancy over the years?”

You blush, embarrassed. “Did you fly from the states?”

“Shanghai, actually.” Armin’s face shows it, still puffy from the flight. “I don’t even know how many hours, just that it was long.”

“I’ve made that flight,” you say, empathizing, “not a fun one.”

“I was able to throw some miles from my company card into it and get first class, though, it was the nicest-”

“Can I join you two?” Your heart drops. You knew he was watching you, he’s always watching you, but to be so bold as to interrupt a conversation, speak to you here? Now?

“Sure, Eren,” Armin steps to the side to make room for Eren at the high-top table you’ve found yourselves gathering around, “we were just catching up on our flights over.”

Eren nods, masterfully collected as he smiles politely at you. “I actually had business over here, so I left New York maybe…a week ago, now? It wasn’t bad at all, our company card covers first-class flights.”

Some strange mix of annoyance and being impressed swells in your throat. You take a swig of wine to swallow it, not trusting yourself to resist throwing out a snarky comment or alternatively inquiring about where this first-class-covering business card came from. You don’t owe him the satisfaction. Armin nods politely, but you can see the tension in his smile. The history between Eren and you could stretch for miles of scorched earth, and it’s no secret. You imagine that earth, black and smoking, half-finished houses with white picket fences smoldering down to their foundations.

“So,” Eren breaks the silence, turning to you, “where did you come in from?”

“Moscow.” One-word answers, minimal detail, you assure yourself in your head. He won’t get his claws in you this time if you don’t let him.

“Moscow is beautiful,” Eren sips the bourbon that you had considered throwing in his face when he approached, “but a little cold this time of year, isn’t it?”

“It was very nice, actually,” you can’t help disagreeing for the sake of it, “I was only in town for a few days covering a story, anyway.” Shit. You’ve betrayed yourself already and revealed a detail. Eren’s smile curls up over his cheeks like a cat that’s found a trapped mouse. You kick yourself inwardly.

“Hear that, Armin? Our little bookworm is still writing.”

You roll your eyes at the old nickname from college, earned by your constant pleas to stay in for a comfy night instead of a frat party. You had read over 350 books in college, breaking your four-year goal by at least fifty. Eren used to beg you to tell him the stories you read before bed like a child, because he couldn’t be bothered to read the actual book and it sounds so much more interesting when you read it, baby. And up until the last three years, you had obliged him. Now, the only person you read to sleep is yourself.

“I made a career out of it,” you snip, “so yes, still writing.”

“Clara’s getting into the wedding cake- I don’t see Mikasa, shit, one sec-” Armin’s sentence is cut short by the speed with which he darts away from the pair of you, running off towards a table on the other side of the room. You don’t necessarily blame him, but you seethe anyway, vowing to repay him for abandoning you.

“Career, hm?” Eren hums pleasantly. “Work’s going well, then?”

You snatch a second glass of wine off of a passing tray, wanting more than anything to walk away from him, but you both know your feet won’t move. Getting a nice buzz going is your only option, at this point. You take a healthy swig, shrugging. “I enjoy it, and it pays.”

“That’s a beautiful dress,” Eren murmurs, quiet and thoughtful. You blush and frown all at once.

“Says the one wearing a $6,000 suit.”

“Is it?” Eren fingers his lapel. He looks amused, and you want to smack the faux-bashfulness right off of his face. “I honestly didn’t know.”

“Your work must be going exceedingly well, then,” you glare, seeing right through him. The facade falters for just a moment, a critical moment: Eren almost looks sad.

“The business took off about a year ago,” he’s not looking at you, focusing on something in the distance, “so I’m traveling almost constantly now. I hardly see Zeke, my only company is usually just my assistant or a flight attendant. I love visiting a new city every week, but it’s…”

“Lonely?” You finish for him before you can stop yourself. He nods, looking surprised.

“Your work keeps you on the go now, too?”

“I switched over to a rolling travel schedule two years ago, when Rolling Stone started their global music column. It ended up being super popular and I’m the lead journalist, so I’m basically running all over the world listening to the weirdest music you can imagine. They had me head over to Berlin one time to cover the ‘rising alien punk scene’; it was…really something.” You pull a funny face at the memory, Eren laughs, a deep, real laugh from the belly. You can hear yourself rambling, revealing, but you can’t stop. It’s so natural that the realization of falling back into yourself, the self that loved Eren, is making your skin crawl. You should walk away, look for an out-

“Have you explored the grounds at all?”

Eren’s question snaps you out of your moment of clarity, back into his magnetic field. “The grounds?”

“This house,” Eren gestures to the villa that Ymir and Historia have rented for their closest friends, “sits on over a thousand acres of vineyard. The best wine in the world.”

“I can tell,” you examine the legs on your glass of red, provided by the vineyard itself, “it’s not my usual French, but it’s incredible.”

“Snob,” Eren grins at you. You have always been a picky wine drinker, Eren used to joke that you could pass a sommelier test without even taking the course. “So, the grounds?”

He offers you an elbow. You look at it, weighing but not really weighing your options, and slip your arm through his, feeling the rapid thudding of your pulse. You’re fairly sure if anyone looked closely at your neck, they’d see the frantic heartbeat insistently pushing right under your skin. You tell yourself it will only be a short walk, just a few minutes, because you do want to see the grounds, even if it’s with the last person you should be spending any time with. You hope that you’ll be able to sneak out without catching Mikasa’s eye.

Eren tugs you along, prattling on about the history of the vineyard, entirely unaware that you’re not listening. This Eren is so different from the Eren you left in New York, but still similar, still feels like home. His nose and jaw have only grown stronger with age, but his eyes still have a youthful glimmer, even if they seem sharper and more intense than you’ve ever seen them. It’s unlikely that he’s physically grown even taller between 23 and 26, but his presence makes him seem like the tallest man in the room. He’s self assured, confident, and in charge, in a manlier, more mature way that you’ve never seen before. A heat simmers in your stomach as you admire the curve of his strong neck, and you want to swat your own hand, tell yourself to settle down. It’s just a walk.

“I think I could die happy here,” Eren says, looking over the view you’ve approached, about a half mile from the rest of the party now. You chuckle.

“A beautiful view and some good wine is all it takes?”

“That’s most of it, these days,” Eren shrugs, “but I do need cable. And-”

“A television, a gym, at least one case of shitty domestic beer in the house at all times,” you count off on your fingers.

“For starters,” Eren concedes with a shy grin. “And a wife.”

Those last two words cause your heart to stop altogether. You look around, realizing just how far you are from the villa, how alone you are with him. The sun is setting reluctantly around you both, sinking slowly, holding onto the landscape with an iron grip.

“That would be nice,” you stammer, “f-for you, definitely.”

“Want to explore this building over here?” As if nothing out of the ordinary happened, Eren points out a smaller home down the hill from you both. “It’s really cool inside.”

You trudge along beside him, having kicked off your heels and left them at the reception long ago, and a fresh wave of anger kicks up in your chest. It was just so quintessentially Eren; drop a bomb, and then act like nothing happened. It reminds you that there are aspects of Eren you can’t stand, and that reminder instills you with the confidence to seclude yourself with him in the charming little stone house.

It is really cool. No window panes in the entire bottom floor, just the fresh vineyard air rolling in. There’s a little kitchenette, some various odds and ends of sofas and chairs sprawling across the clay-bricked floors. A huge table, clearly made for workers’ lunch breaks over the centuries, squats in the middle of the bottom floor, and racks of wine cover the walls. You break away from him to pick up a bottle or two, examine the label, brush off some dust.

Eren grants you a few moments to yourself before you sense him behind you, closer than you want to consider.

“Anything good?” He says, peering right over your shoulder from the sound of it.

You turn around before you can regret it, chest to chest with him. He’s hunching his head to make the best eye contact with you he can, the way he’s always done. You focus on breathing normally, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing how his proximity still affects you after all these years. “A ‘92 vintage Chianti. They actually talked about this wine in my sommelier course; I didn’t even realize this was the same vineyard.”

“You took the course?” Eren smiles crookedly, an endearing grin that you’ve always loved. You smile despite yourself.

“Yeah,” you admit quietly, “I took the course.”

Eren grins wider, and thankfully leaves you there, striding across the room to shuffle through the kitchen drawers. When he returns, he’s holding a wine key and two glasses. You cock your head, confused.

“It’s supposed to be the best, huh? Crack it open.”

“Eren…” you trail off, holding the bottle gingerly, “this bottle has to be over a thousand dollars. We can’t do it.”

“Did I forget to mention this is my bunk for the trip?” He smiles again, his prominent canines glinting in the sunset light streaming in, gesturing around the room grandly; your knees nearly buckle at the sight. “Bedroom’s upstairs. Ymir and Historia said any of the wine’s up for grabs. It’s the owners’ fault if they left the good stuff out for us to get into, and it’s on my tab anyway.”

You’re nearly speechless, not only that Eren got an entire house to himself (he’s always been the spoiled brat of the friend group), but that he tricked you into coming here, with him. When you fail to respond, he takes it simply as more reluctance to open the bottle, and he grabs the bottle from you and starts to dig the corkscrew in through the top.

You let a few beats pass, considering your options as he pours the wine. When he finally hands you the glass, you give voice to your thoughts, testing the waters. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Because you love wine and the house is cool,” Eren shrugs innocently, taking a sip, “damn, that’s good. Try it.”

You hold your glass stock-still in your hands. “We’re done with…what we used to do, you know. That’s not what’s going on here.”

The air sparkles with dust; Eren’s demeanor stutters, a small frown working its way onto his face. “Just try the wine, babe.”

Your heart flutters, your stomach sinks, your memories with Eren shriek from the back of your mind. The pet name is too familiar, too easy, and it brings a cold chill over you. As you’re prone to do, your panic comes shooting out coated in snark.“Babe? Yeah, no, I’m done-”

“Sorry, sorry– it was a mistake, force of habit,” Eren’s already apologizing as you’re talking; you hate how he can still anticipate your reaction before you can give it. He grabs your wrist as you turn to leave, rolling his eyes, “a mistake. Try your wine, you don’t know when you’re going to stumble across that again.”

You let him hold your wrist, enjoying the pressure of his strong hands into the delicate flesh of your arm despite yourself. You look between him, the wine, the room several times, as if you’re weighing your decision. You know what you’re going to choose, but maybe you can pretend that he doesn’t know, too. Eren’s willing to play along, eyes wide and pleading.

Without breaking your gaze, you carefully taste the wine. Damn him, it is good. It has a complexity of flavor and a depth to it that’s incredibly rare, even in the French countryside wines you tend to favor. Even though you fight it, you smile at him and offer your glass for him to pour more.

The bottle passes quickly, both of you settling yourselves in chairs at the kitchen table, discussing old friends, new friends, reminiscing on the college years when you were both a little happier and a little less sane. You hardly notice the sun setting further, the smallest bits of twilight leaking into the corners of the sky.

“Your teeth are so red,” you giggle, head spinning. The wine was delicious, delicious enough for Eren to pop open a second bottle, but God, was it strong. You aren’t sure how you’ll manage the walk back up to the reception- is the reception even still going on?

“So are yours,” Eren pinches your cheek, giggling drunkenly along with you.

“God, you’re right.” You place a finger onto your teeth, rubbing frantically at the wine stains to no avail. Eren reaches a wobbling hand out to pull your fingers out of your mouth, shaking his head. He frowns and shakes his head, childlike.

“Don’t take them off.”

“The wine stains?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? They make teeth look dirty,” you laugh again, trying to shove your finger back into your mouth where Eren’s holding it.

“I…okay, maybe it’s weird, but I always thought it was kind of sexy when your teeth were all red from wine,” Eren blushes, and it’s so childishly endearing that you can feel your heart swell.

“Really?”

“I never told you that?” Eren looks astonished, chuckling under his breath. “It drove me crazy back when we were together. You’d go to Historia’s, or Sasha’s, or whoever’s and down a bottle or two of red and come stumbling back into that crappy apartment in Harlem-”

“-the one with the mean bodega lady outside!”

“Yes!” Eren snaps his fingers, pointing at you excitedly. “Anyway, you’d come waddling back in, hair a mess and wine all over your teeth, your lips would be bright purple, and you’d always be so horny-”

“Eren!”

“It’s true! You’d ride me for an hour before you knocked out.” Eren sipped his wine, smiling in a private way that you felt was just for you.

“An hour seems like a bit of a stretch,” you murmur, looking down into your glass. You’ve almost finished your wine and you shouldn’t have any more, the reception is waiting for you and you’ve been gone with Eren long enough that you’ve been missed at this point. When you pull your head up, Eren looks different. It’s a familiar face on a new man: his eyes have a mischievous glimmer in them, the sunset winking at you through his green irises.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips; your mind wanders to that tongue, those lips. Mentally, you dance over what you know those lips and tongue can do, how they feel on your mouth, your neck, between your legs. Your wine-addled mind tries to shake the persistent thought. Eren reaches a hand over to your mouth, absentmindedly rubbing a thumb over the corner of your lips.

“Still think it looks sexy,” he mumbles, half-drunk and half expecting a stern reprimand from you. His eyes search your face, curious of your reaction. It’s the moment you’ve been running around the world from for the last three years, finally coming to fruition here in this little house.

You embarrass and surprise yourself simultaneously: tears well in your eyes. You want him; you’re drunk and beautiful and desperate for him in the beautiful countryside of Italy, but he’s so bad for you. They’re tears that have been waiting behind your eyes, tears of frustration and desire.

“Why are you crying?” Eren asks, furrowing his brow. You know he knows, he understands you and your emotions better than anyone. You’re angry with him, angry that he knows the source of your tears before you open your mouth.

“We’re done, Eren,” you fail miserably to steel your voice, “we can’t do this anymore, remember? It’s not good for us.”

“It’s been three years, baby,” Eren responds, still rubbing his thumb over your lips, “three years of growing. We’re different now– I’m different.”

“No,” you sniffle, feeling like a child. Whether he’s changed or not is still up for debate, but your sore heart can only take so much. He’s so beautiful, soaked in sun and wine and temptation, simpering at you. Your resolve is weakening by the second.

“Yes,” Eren insists, “it’s me. You belong to me, you know you do.”

“Eren–”

“You always do this, always try to run from me, but I’ll always find you,” he murmurs, “I’ll go to every corner of the earth if I need to. I’ll always find you because you’re mine.”

You’d love to say that he leaned in, he grabbed your face and pulled you to him, but you’d be lying. It’s you who leans forward ever so slightly, catching your chapped lips in his and kissing him tentatively. You wouldn’t be lying if you told anyone that he sighed into your mouth, ready to feel your body under his hands again. You wouldn’t be lying in the slightest.

Eren allows you a few tentative kisses, a few pecks against his lips, familiar and new all the same. Once you’ve had your fill of shyness, your obligatory ruse of unassuredness, he reaches for you, scooping you into his lap. You straddle him, whimpering at the friction of his already-growing bulge against your clothed cunt. He has to push your dress up to allow you room to spread your legs over him; you’re wearing a slinky little silk number, a gorgeous deep brown against your tanned skin, but not cooperative for lap-sitting.

Eren’s tongue is practically down your throat, teeth nipping at your bottom lip when you have to pull away for air, hands roaming your now-bare thighs.

“This dress,” he pants between kisses, “is so fucking perfect on you. Look so good for me.”

You sigh into his mouth, running your hands through his hair. Off to the side of your mind, you realize you may have knocked his hair out of its bun, but the dark locks feel so soft in your fingers, you can’t bring yourself to apologize for it. He’s wrapping his hands around your ass; Eren always loved your full hips, and it seems that that fact hasn’t changed.

Your hands find their way to his neck, his shoulders, his chest. He’s grown stronger over the years, definitive muscles rippling under your fingers, but the broadness he’s always possessed is still there. He’s large compared to you, twice as wide and at least a head taller, and you loathe to admit it, but it turns you on. You love the way he manhandles you, the way he pushes and pulls you exactly how he wants you, the way he grabs your hips hard enough to bruise, rocking them against his own.

A particularly well-placed thrust of his hips against yours elicits a wanton groan from you, spilling into his mouth. Eren moans back, moving away from your lips to mouth his way down your throat.

“Gonna sit you up now, okay?”

He stands, knocking the chairs aside on his way up, to set you on the table, the perfect height for him to grope at you, pull your dress this way and that.

“Wanna get this thing off, will you let me?”

You hesitate, or try to, at least. His hands are dizzying, flying all over your body and squeezing at just the right spots as he nibbles on your earlobe. “But, the reception–”

“Sh, sh, sh. We’re so far away, baby, they’ll never even know, yeah?” Eren goads you and you’re putty in his hands, the rapidly-shrinking rational part of your brain growing quieter with each kiss, each pet. He manages to wrench your dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but a stringy pair of panties. Eren steps back to look over you; you resist the urge to cover yourself. You know his routine.

“Fuck,” Eren breathes, palming your tits, “you’re perfect, do you know that? So beautiful just for me, aren’t you?”

You flush pink from your chest to your forehead. Even after years of love and war and running, his bedroom talk still gets to you. Eren loves to tell you what he thinks of you, and you’ve never managed to grow accustomed to hearing it.

“Say it.”

“Hm?” You hum, preoccupied with his mouth pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses around your breasts, even pausing to suck a bruise into the side of your left.

“Say you’re beautiful, tell me how pretty you are for me.”

This part is new; Eren has always loved to talk to you in bed, but your participation in the dirty talk has been minimal until now. Your blush grows even deeper. “I’m beautiful, beautiful just for you.”

“Good girl,” Eren purrs, allowing you to pull his head closer to your chest. His tongue swirls around one nipple. He closes his lips around it, sucking hard, and you moan openly, pulling him closer. Eren grins, letting his teeth pinch down on it. “You still like when I play with your tits, hm?”

“Yes,” you hiss, too caught up in pleasure to address his smugness.

“Know you baby, know you inside and out. These tits are mine,” a hand wanders down to your cunt, swiping across your panties and feeling the wetness that soaks them, “and this pussy’s mine too. You might not love me anymore, but your body– oh, she loves me.”

You have no way to respond to that, no way to address what those words do to your brain. Chagrin as you might be to admit it, he’s right. Eren was your first and only adult relationship, fucking your body into submission for years and training it, training your cunt to respond to him and the way he liked to touch you. He’s pushed and prodded you into his perfect little fuckdoll, and you let him and you loved it. You loved every second of it, and god does it feel good rushing back to you now, finally under his hands again after years without.

Eren nudges your panties to the side, rubbing quick circles over your clit, just the way you like it. A long, heady whine leaks from your lips, your hips urgently roll towards him.

“Missed me? Is that it?” Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smug grin on his lips. Eren loves when you’re needy for him.

“Mhm,” you indulge him in the hopes you’ll get what you want, and you’re right. A long finger sinks into you, instantly curling to press into the spongy spot within your walls that has you swooning, clutching desperately onto his shoulders.

“That’s it, feels good doesn’t it?”

You pull at his suit jacket, fumbling with the buttons on his collared shirt. “Want it off, want to see you.”

Eren relents, pulling his hand from you to step back and strip his shirt and jacket. He is as muscular as he feels; you drag your eyes over his strong chest, his defined abs, and the deep V leading down below his belt. You briefly remember all of your post-college friends, girls that had never known Eren, teasing you that he was your hottest ex. You had blushed, but you understand. He’s like a Greek statue, glistening with sweat from the evening heat, every crevice of him on display just for you. It sends a fresh wave of heat pulsing through your body, and you pull him back to you, relishing in the feel of his hands on you.

“Want me to make you cum, is that it?” Eren’s amused, sinking two fingers into your heat. You croon, nodding desperately. He chuckles, moving his fingers against the spot inside of you. “I’ve got you, don’t worry baby. Gonna make you feel good.”

You nod again into his shoulder, attached to him wherever you can find the space, grasping his body and pulling it to yours. You wish you had the capacity to be ashamed of your need, laid bare for him to see, but you don’t. All you can think about is his fingers moving in you, gaining speed and bringing you closer to an embarrassingly fast orgasm.

He slides a third in, just to be safe, and you’re so wet that your pussy accepts it willingly. The stretch makes you pout, push at his chest. “Too much, Eren–”

“Gotta get you ready for me,” he huffs, his arousal getting the better of him, “get you ready to get fucked. Cunt’s tight after all these years, isn’t it? Gotta work it open.”

That does a lot to your hazy brain; you bite deep into his shoulder, moans coming faster and louder as he works his fingers in you. The bubble is building in the pit of your stomach, your hips are canting towards him.

“Eren, Eren I–”

“I know, I know,” he coos, fingers curling inside you even faster, “my girl needs to cum, doesn’t she? You want to cum all over my fingers, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you cry into his skin, biting and moaning alternatively. Your head’s spinning; you can’t remember the last time you felt this good. You’re no nun, not by any means, but Eren knows your body, crafted it to respond to him, to his hands and mouth and cock, and your body is rejoicing at the feel of him on and in you again. You can’t hold it, you know you can’t, you’re moments away now. “Eren, I’m going to cum, I’m gonna–”

“Do it, baby,” he growls into your ear, his fingers working even faster, thumb moving up to swipe at your clit, “give it to me, want to hear you cum.”

Your body convulses and you’re cumming hard, with Eren the first one of the night always goes that way. Eren knows it, pulls you close against him and works his fingers in you, helping you ride it out. He’s practically purring into your ear, telling you what a good girl you are, cumming all over his fingers like that, and you eat it up. You cry into his flesh where it’s secured between your teeth, rocking your hips into his hand desperately.

Your orgasm begins to fade, and you find the presence of mind to shove at his fingers, begging for a reprieve. “Give me your cock, want it in my mouth.”

“Is that what you need?” Eren’s already helping you onto your knees, gentle, but needy. “Need my cock in your mouth?”

“Please,” you say eagerly, adjusting your knees to a comfortable position on the dirt floor, easily unbuttoning his pants and shoving them down his legs. He steps out of his shoes, kicking his pants off, strong thighs twitching under your nails as you softly scratch down them. A groan rumbles in Eren’s chest at your enthusiasm, he places a hand on your head, running through your curls.

“Can’t be for too long, ‘kay?” Eren pants, hissing when you press a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock. “Still gotta fuck you, feel you cum on me.”

You hum your approval, popping him fully into your mouth with a satisfied moan. You’ve always loved taking him in your mouth, the comforting weight of him on your tongue. You’re getting impossibly wetter, feeling the heat gather between your legs as you bob your head up and down on him, listening to his satisfied little grunts and groans above you.

Eren rubs a hand over your cheek, mutters his approval, thrusts his hips forwards unwittingly a few times. You gag when he does, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. You’ve taken him like this so many times, even with his impressive size, you love the feel of him pressing back into your throat until you choke.

“Fuck, fuck, baby it’s– it’s too much,” Eren indulges in a few more thrusts into your throat before grabbing your hair and urging you off of him, “need your pussy, okay?”

You’re not going to argue with that, letting him pull you to your feet, an anticipatory smile cracking across your face. You’re drunk on the wine and sex and him, babbling nonsensically. “Wanna feel you, Eren, need you.”

“I’ve got you, gonna make you feel so good, princess.” Impressively, Eren scoops you off of the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist. He walks you both over to the wall, pressing you up against it. “Gonna make you mine all over again, yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

It’s a loaded question, but you’re so captivated by him, all you can do is murmur your agreement, tell him you want to be his because at least for now, you do. Eren’s magnetic, the man you run from so you don’t get lost in him, but tonight, you’re willing to drown. You’re begging for it.

The stone wall is rough against your bare back, but the head of Eren’s cock rubbing through your folds distracts you, a promise of what’s to come.

“Please, please put it in, Eren, I need–”

“My girl needs to be full, doesn’t she?” Eren’s smirking at you, slipping the tip of his cock in. Even the stretch of that alone is enough to make you moan, digging your nails into his back. “There you go, gonna fill you up, make you all better.”

You nod into his shoulder, the weight of your actions catching up to you as he presses himself into you, fills you entirely. Eren’s your kryptonite, he’s a drug, he’s an overwhelming presence, you can’t think straight around him. Before coming to this wedding, you told yourself you’d stay away, but you can’t help it. Everything about him is like he’s sculpted just for you, your body yields to him so easily you think you might be made just for him too. His skin, salty and sweaty from the summer air, is delicious under your tongue.

He’s moving now, fucking up into you desperately, like he loves you and like he wants to break you. You jolt in his arms, helpless to do anything but take and take and take everything he has to give you.

He smiles against your open mouth, placing a sloppy kiss over it. “Does that feel good?”

“Feels so fucking good,” you whimper, letting him manhandle you. Eren’s always rough with you, always riding the line of too much, and you love taking it. You love letting him push you to your limits.

“Missed my cock in you, didn’t you? This cunt was made for me,” Eren huffs, “made just for me. Mine, isn’t it?”

You don’t indulge him with an answer, loathe to admit that your cunt is made for him, but you feel yourself clench down around him, more of your wetness soaking his lower stomach. Eren chokes out some mix of a moan and a breathless laugh, fucking up into you harder. “What a perfect answer, baby. You love it, I know you do.”

“I love it,” you agree, simpering against him as your willpower fizzles out to nothing. You’re reluctant to believe it, but there’s another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. Your body responds to him in a way it responds to no one else, clinging to him and growing wet for him and tightening around him.

Eren’s digging his hands into your hips, moving you up and down on his cock more so than actually thrusting. He’s panting against your ear, hot and heavy and in tune with your own gasps. He nudges his mouth down to plant sloppy kisses around your shoulder, just at the crook of your neck in the sensitive spot that he knows you love, remembers even after all these years.

“Been too fucking long, baby,” Eren says, “gonna cum soon.”

You nod into his neck, cunt tightening around him at the prospect of his cum inside you. Just the thought of it sends your mind into orbit; a little fantasy forms in your hazy head of him fucking you like this every night, like he used to, a child with your curls and deep, green eyes-

“Gonna let me cum in this perfect cunt, aren’t you?”

As usual, Eren’s right in line with you– the synchronicity makes you moan again. “Please, please–”

“Gotta cum with me, alright? You can do that for me, can’t you?” You can, you will, but you’re so close to the edge when you try to respond your words are jumbled together. Even so close to his own release, Eren snickers at you. “My sweet girl’s all fucked out, can’t even talk.”

“Need your cum,” you manage, “please, Eren, m’close.”

Years ago, through strenuous games of overstimulation and denial, Eren trained your body to wait for him, you can’t cum unless he does and you know it. Your only option is to beg, hot shame warming your face. Eren remembers, just like you do, it makes him grin, feral and dangerous in the early evening light.

“Need my cum, baby? Needy, so needy, so beautiful,” he’s starting to slur, you know he’ll finish soon, “gonna cum in this perfect cunt of yours, never let you keep it from me again. Maybe I’ll knock you up, hm? Can’t run from me with my baby in you.”

Your watery eyes fly open at that, the logical part of your brain long-quieted, and you moan loud for him again, just the way he likes. Eren’s thrusts have grown sloppy, he’s grabbing you so hard now you know you’ll be left with Eren-shaped bruises on your hips.

Eren finally cums in you with your name on his lips, long and deep, keeping his cock fully seated inside you. It triggers your orgasm, a toe-curling wave of pleasure coursing through your body, straining your sore muscles. Eren’s mouth is pressed against yours and all you can manage is a whimper, feeling his cum warm your pussy, leak out around from where you’re both still joined together.

All the energy’s been pulled from your body now; you slump against his shoulder and whine when he slides out of you. Eren places you gently on the floor, presses a soft kiss to the top of your head before leading you upstairs on shaking legs. It smells like Eren up here, the pricey cologne he favors and the scent of well-loved sweatshirts intoxicating you. There are no words between the two of you as he leads you to the bathroom, helping you sit on the toilet seat as Eren rummages around for a washcloth to clean you.

“We need to go back to the reception,” you say weakly, wincing as Eren rubs the cloth over your cunt.

“What do you think?”

You frown, confused. “About?”

“Us, again,” he’s avoiding your eyes, focusing on his work between your legs. You’re not surprised he waited until you were disarmed to ask, brain still muddled and dizzy.

“Eren–”

“I am different now,” he finally meets your eyes, gaze alight with the burning, too-hot-to-touch love you know so well, the only love Eren knows how to offer, “got a therapist like you were always asking me to. I meditate every day. I’ll be so good to you, you know how good I am.”

He is good to you, you remember it well, your own tendency to flee was what broke you up in the first place. You’d left his heart shattered on the sidewalk of your apartment back in New York City, overwhelmed with commitment and unwilling to give his flaws the same grace he gave yours. You’re opposites: he’s hot where you’re cool, angry where you’re distant, argumentative where you’re cold. You sigh, head feeling heavy on your shoulders.

“Do you know what you’re asking of me? What about the lives we have now?”

“We’d make it work, line our schedules up together” the corner of his mouth curls, you want to kiss him again, “we’re always able to figure something out.”

You hate yourself for it, you want to run from him, get a car to the airport right now. You also want to pull him into your arms, feel his heartbeat against yours, kiss that hesitant smile on his face and never stop. “I…can I sleep on it?”

Eren’s face lights up, a kid on Christmas morning. He’s always been so expressive in these quiet moments; unreadable in a crowded room, but when it’s just you and him, his heart’s always been on his sleeve. He can’t help it. “Yeah, just sleep on it.”

You get yourself as put-together as you can, wipe the mascara from under your eyes, slip the dress back over your shoulders and concede one more kiss to Eren. It’s slow, long and languid, tongues slipping over one another, the desperation now cooled into a sense of homecoming.

You hold hands as you climb the hill back to the reception. Your knees wobble, and it makes Eren laugh, makes you blush. He’s still going on about the villa’s history, and you’re half-listening, admiring the stars above you both. The reception is still going on, albeit a bit more subdued than earlier. Some guests have trickled out, finding their beds, but your friends are still seated around a table, drunk and laughing.

Connie’s the worst, of course, leaning on Jean and regaling everyone with a tale about their Midwestern childhood together; Mikasa’s buried under Clara, who’s sleeping soundly in her lap; Ymir and Historia are alternating between listening and kissing one another; Sasha’s struggling with a corkscrew and a tricky wine bottle, Armin attempting to help her.

Your face warms as all eyes turn to you, rumpled and suspicious and late. Mikasa raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her face.

“Where have you two been? You missed the garter toss,” Ymir nudges Historia conspiratorially.

“Just touring the grounds,” Eren answers coolly, pulling the empty chair beside Mikasa and offering it to you. You sit, grateful to be off of your shaking legs.

“It’s so beautiful here, thanks for putting us all up…” you accept the glass of wine Armin is offering over your shoulder, tipping it in the happy couples’ direction. Historia murmurs a quiet ‘you’re welcome’, the entire table exchanging knowing glances. You scowl, being left out of a joke is one of your pet peeves. “What?”

Jean grins lewdly. “Nothing, just…I don’t think Eren’s room is as far from the main house as you two think it is.”

938 notes · View notes

lady-raziel · 3 months

Text

I'm angry. I'm really, really furious right now. I am absolutely livid that when the stakes are so high-- not just for Americans at risk from project 2025, not just for people in Europe being threatened by Russia, not just for people in Palestine, but for pretty much widespread global stability-- that the elites of the Democratic party would dare, would have the fucking gall to let Joe Biden run for a second term in the first place, and then when the magnitude of their own hubris is revealed, would not correct the mistake. And even worse, now, after what we've seen over the past two weeks-- that many of them, including some of the most progressive, would look out upon the people who they claim to be champions of, the diverse and varied America who will suffer at the hands of the conservatives' agenda--and they would EVER dare to say that YOU are wrong to point out the truth before your own eyes.

After the NATO press conference, where Biden absolutely had to prove he was not on the decline, and resoundingly failed to do so, I was appalled to go on Twitter (I'm still not calling it X, sorry) and see favored Democratic insiders claiming that the performance I had just seen was GOOD. That I should be PROUD of this. That I should WANT to vote for this.

How dare you. How dare you say that I should be proud, should wholeheartedly endorse the candidate at the head of a party who, time and time again over the past 30+ years, has only ever chosen to raise up its own aging elites, and occasionally younger people if they met the right demographics to portray the image of the "diverse party of the people."

No. It became evident a long time ago that you only ever cared about yourselves and consolidating your own power. Time and time again you have destroyed the chances of any candidate that strays beyond what you consider the bounds of acceptability for yourselves. There were good candidates in 2004-- and instead, the Democrats gave us John Kerry and handed the Republicans another four years of Bush. Hillary Clinton first ran for president in 2008-- had Barack Obama not been so compelling, had the idea of having the first African American president been so appealing, would you have allowed him to stand a chance? In 2016 you again and again ignored what the average person had to say, ignored concerns that had been brewing for decades that your commitment to "diversity" only mattered if it could be wielded against conservatives and used to prop yourselves up, and destroyed Bernie Sanders' campaign in service of an elite no one wanted.

The seeds of Donald Trump had been brewing for a long time, and instead of doing something about it then, you rested on your laurels and held on to your power instead of raising new people up to move the mission forward. And now, when the situation is MORE CRITICAL than it has EVER been-- still you refuse to listen. Still you refuse to change. Biden literally said in that press conference they aren't listening to polls anymore--is there ANYTHING that will get you to see that you are fucking this up???

So no, Biden campaign surrogates on my Twitter feed, DNC donation-prompt texts, endless barrage of emails one after another-- I see no reason to my proud of this. For many of us, this election as well as the last one was ALWAYS a strategic calculation to prevent worse things, empower local-level candidates, and allow a party structure to exist in some form in hopes of change. This was ALWAYS a dispassionate choice made with the full knowledge of complex situations in order to play the long game.

How dare you say I too should wholeheartedly believe the emperor is dressed in robes of splendor when he and the rest of you have lain bare for the longest time, while those of us trying to keep things from getting worse have to convince the rightfully angry people who still care to ignore the nakedness of who you are--to prevent people cloaked in blood from taking the reins. Shame on all of you, honestly. I wish I could say that this might be a learning moment for the Democratic elite, but I have little hope, and I expect to hear you pontificate on end regarding how "young people just don't understand the political process and that's why we lost" as we all go down together.

Fuck you.

#...okay i might have gotten a little riled up but god #us politics #joe biden #politics tw

142 notes · View notes

sgiandubh · 3 months

Text

Good morning, Vietnam: Second hand

Good morning, Vietnam ahem, Outlander Fandom,

It is a rainy morning somewhere in Eastern Europe and I thought it was high time for a new audio:

I also think it's high time to remember a simple, common sense thing, really.

When a second hand player utters something outrageous, relayed by second hand trolls, the only logical reaction to it must be second hand embarrassment.

All we know (?) until now is that June Brunette went ballistic on some Antis/Onlys who took things a step too far across the discernment line and engaged with her. Who in their right mind would do such a thing? Who, aged 12 and above, would expect an honest answer or reliable info out of it?

Nothing consistent of those heated exchanges has emerged yet. Across the street, they suddenly play the #silly mimosa pudica game: let's be respectful and let's, by the same token and by all means, ventilate shit to oblivion, in the guise of 'well thought' posts. With NO substantial evidence. Funny, that.

What do we have, ultimately? A rude woman, whose claim to fame is her ambition to enlighten The World about the difference between deodorants and antiperspirants (I shit you not). And two clueless idiots, who should get a life ASAP and not go meddle their nose in someone else's Obvious Crap.

Even if she told such suicidal things as 'he hates all his fans' or ' he's mine and he'll never be yours' to those Two Convenient Imbeciles, that does not mean S told her that, either. If only because all wallets are, after all, created equal, as I often say. If only because his business projects are still not mature enough as to be entirely emancipated of the Mommies' Booze Mafia. And finally, if only because Seasons 7B and 8 are still to be broadcast and, therefore, show must go on.

I am officially buying popcorn. Let's see how long she remains relevant, after all this tiny shitstorm. Bets?

PS: you may or may not hear Baby the Lab strongly agreeing with me. Not even sorry for that ;).

#fandom #shitshow #June Brunette #weekly audio #Good morning

116 notes · View notes

moremaybank · 1 year

Text

BACK FOR YOU — r.c

day four second chance with rafe cameron

pairing rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary months after your failed long distance relationship, rafe begins to send you love letters in an attempt to win you back.

warnings one allusion to sex closer to the end, but nothing else. just a lil angst and hella fluff. oh, and some language.

author’s note hi my loves, i’d really appreciate if you read this because i haven’t written a piece like this in a very long time and i’m actually really proud of it ♡︎ thank you ily

obx week ‘23 masterlist ;; rafe masterlist

Dear Y/N,

Hey. I know it’s been awhile, and I know that it’s weird — writing you like this. But something happened the other day, and I wanted to tell you about it.

I was in the grocery store with Wheeze, picking up some cupcakes for her class bake sale because none of us actually know how to bake (which you know). When we got to the bakery section, I saw chocolate-covered strawberries, and I immediately thought of you. Remember how we used to go star-gazing? We’d pile the back of my pickup with pillows and those thick-ass, furry blankets from Costco, get all cozy, and you’d bring those chocolate-covered strawberries that you’d spent the day making just for me. You’d feed ‘em to me, grinning when I’d instantly chase your hand for another bite. And then afterward, you’d cuddle into me, and we’d just lay there, looking at the stars. You’d get this wondrous look in your eyes, like you’d never seen anything so beautiful. I had though. I got to look at you every day, and you beat the stars by a long shot.

Anyway, I ran into your mom at the club earlier. She told me that you were travelling, visiting every place you possibly could in Europe. Sounds like you. I bet you went to Greece first, you’ve had an obsession with it since you were fifteen. I know I always talked about taking you there. Who knows, maybe I still can.

I miss you. Did I mention that? ‘Cause I do. I miss you all the time.

Yours,

Rafe

Dear Y/N,

You didn’t answer that last letter, and that’s fine. I understand why. I never said how sorry I was for everything that happened last year, never really explained. But I will now.

I’m so sorry for how I ended things. Every day, I woke up at school, far away from you. It ached me to not wake up to you. To not see you every second of the day. To not hold your hand or see you smile as soon as you saw me.

I missed everything. The smell of your lavender shampoo. Your hands running through my hair when I was stressed. You’d always kiss the frown off my face and fix everything just by telling me you loved me. The nights you’d call me when you couldn’t sleep because you needed to hear my voice. That cute little giggle you’d do after you’d been laughing for awhile. The way you’d look at me when you told me you loved me. There wasn’t a single reminder of you that didn’t constantly play on a loop in my head, that didn’t buzz deep in my veins. But I felt such a large void in my heart without you around, and I thought that if I broke things off with you that it would go away. But in the months since then, it’s only grown. Only gotten worse. I don’t think I’ll ever survive losing you.

I hope this letter finds you well. I hope you open it, and maybe decide to write me back. No pressure, though.

Yours always,

Rafe

Dear Y/N,

I don’t know if you’re getting sick of these. I really hope you aren’t. I gotta admit, writing to you makes me feel like we’re still connected. I still think we are. At least, on my end, we are.

Life’s been really crazy, lately. Ward’s getting ready to hand Cameron Development over to me. Every day he tells me that he hopes I won’t run the damn thing into the ground while he’s gone, travelling with Rose. I honestly don’t know why he would let me run things when he obviously doesn’t have an ounce of faith in me. You always told me that his love didn’t have to be earned, and I’ve always known that you were right, but it really feels like I’ll never have it. I wish you were here. You always make things better.

Anyway, I’m on the road to Raleigh, and I can’t help but think about our crazy road trip last summer. We had no freakin’ clue where we were going, but honestly, I didn’t care. I just wanted to be with you. Your infectious laughter and your terrible singing along to All Too Well (the ten minute version, obviously) is what kept me going that entire drive. That, and when you’d shower me with kisses all over my cheek when you got bored. I loved that shit.

I’ve been missing you like hell. I’ve already said this, but I really wish you were here. You’d make all this work worth it. ‘Cause, as of right now, I don’t really know why I’m doing all this. You aren’t here, and we don’t have the family we’d always dreamed about. Hopefully that changes in the near future.

Yours (until my heart stops beating),

Rafe

Dear Y/N,

A little birdie by the name of Sarah let it slip that you’ve been keeping my letters. Truth is, I sent her to spy on you.

Okay, I didn’t. But I had you for a sec, didn’t I?

I only know you have them because I begged her for hours to tell me how you were doing, and if you talked about me. Even then, I had to bribe her by saying I’d babysit the kids for an entire weekend so her and John B could go on a couples getaway. Totally worth it.

Oh, and they threw me a party at work. Apparently I beat out Ward for some record. I don’t even remember what it’s called now. I had so much cake that I went into a sugar coma. It was red velvet, cream cheese icing. Your favourite. That’s probably why I ate so much. You’d go back for it so many times that by the time you were full, I’d be finishing all the rest.

You still haven’t written me back, but that’s alright. Do it when you’re ready. If you’re ready. Again, no pressure.

Anyway, I’m sitting here on my couch watching Gilmore Girls. Yes, I finally got around to watching it. I know you begged me to for ages and we never actually got the chance to do it, but it popped up on my ‘recommended’ the other day and I decided to give it a try. You were right. This show’s freakin’ hilarious. I swear Lorelai Gilmore is the reason you were always so witty with me. She’s so quick on her feet, it blows my mind. Also, please tell me that Rory becomes enjoyable again. I miss her Chilton days. I miss her and Jess. Does he ever come back? And please tell me that Luke and Lorelai are endgame. I mean, the horoscope!!! The man waited eight years for her. People probably thought he was crazy for doing so, but I get it. I’d wait centuries if it meant I got to end up with you.

Yours (until the end of time),

Rafe

Dear Y/N,

I’ve written you so many letters, I hope I’m not taking up too much space at your place. Hey, that rhymed. I should be a rapper. All right, I could never be a rapper. This is why I need you. You keep my delusional mind in check.

The other day, I was on the ferry, riding over to the mainland, and when we reached, I swear I almost started driving to your house. Obviously, I didn’t. I chickened out. I thought about walking up to your doorstep, watching you open the door, and even dream-you was way too beautiful for me to handle. I almost gave myself a heart attack. One day, though, I’ll work up the courage. I wanna see you so badly, it’s killing me.

Can I tell you something? I have this dream sometimes, more often than not. It takes place back when we were still in college. Instead of ending things between us, I drop everything and run to you. The journey takes all day long, but I don’t care. I make my way to you, and once I find you, I pull you into my arms and kiss the life out of you. You ask me what’s gotten into me, and I respond by saying that I never want to live without you. That being away from you is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with, and that life isn’t worth living if I’m not by your side. I get down on one knee, pull out a big ass rock from my pocket, and ask you to marry me. And you say yes. Every. Damn. Time.

The reason I’m saying all this is because I want to give you a fair warning. I’m going to make that happen someday. Sure, we aren’t in school anymore, and we aren’t even together right now, but I don’t care. We’re going to end up together. I know it, and you know it. I promise you, Y/N, I’m going to come back for you. And when I do, I’ll never leave you again. The only place I ever want to be is right by your side, in our huge house that I’m going to build for us, with our kids running around and chasing our dog. The house will smell like a bakery all the time because of your huge sweet tooth, and it’ll most likely be a mess because we won’t be able to keep up with our crazy ass kids. But we’ll be together. And we’ll stay that way until we’re all old and grey. And I might be pushing it by saying this, but I’ll still be taking you to bed every night, ‘cause I know in my heart that you’ll still be getting me all bricked up even in our nineties. Please don’t hate me for saying that.

Yours forever,

Rafe

You placed the last letter back into its envelope and added it to your large collection. Your heart warmed at Rafe’s declaration. You’d been rereading that one letter for a month now. You missed him terribly. You’d tried to write to him so many times, but each time you’d started, you just couldn’t go through with it. Your fear consumed you. You were petrified of the thought that once you opened yourself up again, Rafe would find another reason to leave you. You’d always known that it was hard for him to walk away from you, but it hurt you just the same. If not, more.

Still, this was a side of him that you’d never seen before. He’d changed in the near year since you’d broken up. You could tell from the way he wrote to you. He’d never been as vulnerable and raw as he had been in those letters. He was bearing his soul to you, something he was always unable to truly do. There was always a small part of him that was closed off, even to you. But that part seemed to have vanished.

Just as you placed the crate of letters back on your shelf, your doorbell rang. Your heart raced as you approached the door. You opened it, and there, finally, he stood.

Rafe slapped his hand to his heart. “God, I was right. Way too beautiful. Take it easy on me, would you?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you threw your arms around his neck and practically jumped into his arms. He returned your embrace quickly, squeezing you tightly and keeping you pressed to him as one hand cradled the back of your head.

After a moment, you hesitantly pulled away, your tears clouding your vision. You opened your mouth to speak, but Rafe beat you to it.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I love you. I love you so much. I—”

You cut him off. “—Shut up and kiss me, fiancé.”

“Fiancé? Yeah? You wanna marry me?”

“Of course I do. You’re still mine, right?”

“Yours,” he confirmed, punctuating it with a kiss. “Always.” Kiss. “Until my heart stops beating.” Kiss. “Until the end of time.” Kiss.

He leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he let out a content sigh. “Forever.”

RAFE TAG LIST (JOIN HERE!): @surftrips @oncasette @taintedxkisses @maybankslover @goldenroutledge @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @whoisdrewstarkey @dreamingwithrafe @vigilanteshitposting @twelfthmortalofcrimsonpalace @wildflwrdarlin @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @tell-me-when-ur-ready @bbycowboi @jjmaybankisbae @jjsbank444 @enhypens-hoe @loverofdrewstarkey @countryclubkook @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptheimagines @bloody-mf-bsc @maybanksbabe @slut4drudy @dancinglikeaballerina @somerandos-world @shahanaazsoumah @darleneslane @sya-skies @ellabellabus07 @emmalandry @madelynie @urbestieboo @cruzgrecia @l1lactheflower @rafegirly @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @gillybear17 @obaex @abbybarnesstuff @mattyskies

411 notes · View notes

blushweddinggowns · 10 months

Text

Steddie Drunk Dialing Fluff

Steve Harrington-Munson was probably one of the happiest men to be alive in the modern era. He had the perfect life, against all odds. Because apparently having your late teens and early twenties ruined by demons equated to a fantastic adulthood.

He had it all. A loving family, the best friend/surrogate sister he could ever ask for, and he was married to the love of his life. And okay, yes. That had included some extremely embarrassing revelations and internal meltdowns and... a pretty brutal disownment. But he had figured it all out in the end. And here he was, a decade later with a ring on his finger and a nice hyphenated name. Not to mention how he was basically a trophy husband.

Eddie hadn't wasted a moment of the last decade. A symptom of almost dying it would seem. He went for the GED, gathered the band back up, moved across the country to chase his dreams and play in every shitty dive bar he could until they were discovered. All while dragging Steve along for the ride.

As much as Steve had believed in him, neither of them had been prepared for his music career actually taking off. Especially not to the level it did. It was undeniable that his husband was an A-Lister, despite how universally hated he was by half the country. You don't get many out and proud metal front man who loved parading around his high school sweetheart at every social event he could. But Europe loved him, as did the entirety of gay, rebellious youths world wide.

It was so stupid. There Eddie was, painted as an insane freak who was fake-married. With tabloids running story after story about his secret children, his drug addiction, a wife from another country, anything that they could think of. All while Eddie spent every free moment at Steve's side, always opting for a night in with his baby when given the choice. And when he wasn't doing that, he was busy playing surrogate fun uncle to the kids, who were definitly not kids anymore. But that didn't stop them from all getting together for Dungeons and Dragons once a month, hundreds and hundreds of campaign hours on everyone's belts. And that was his life. Spending time with his family, forcing them on hikes and runs, volunteering, working occasionally to help Robin with her translating work, all while coming home to the sweetest thing that ever existed.

God, did Steve love that man. Reminiscing about the love of his life while he was on tour was not helping his fretful sleep. He just... really had given him everything. He loved him so much in fact that he was only slightly pissed when he was woken up at three a.m. from the phone ringing off the hook.

Steve reached for it blindly, still half-asleep when he mumbled, "Mm-Eds?"

"Steeeeeeeeeevie," Eddie's voice slurred back at him, "Baby booooy. How's my baby boy? I miss my baby boy."

Steve smiled despite himself, yawning into the phone. Eddie was lucky he was so cute, considering how the love of his life who could not remember what time zones were, "He misses you too. And he's a little tired right now babe. What's up?"

"Day drunk," Eddie sighed, "Guys, morning show, mimosas, hotel room to sleep it off. Missing you."

"You won't be missing me for long," Steve softly laughed. Though... hearing his voice was quite the reminder of how cold the bed suddenly felt, "Just... one more week. That's not too long right?"

"Too long!" Eddie groaned, dramatic, "I miss you now. Why can't I see you now? Wait-Can I see you now? Cause planes and trains and-"

"And no," Steve interrupted with a chuckle, "You'd only get me for a few hours before you'd have to leave again."

"Worth it," Eddie mumbled out, his voice a little muffled as he tumbled around in his hotel bed, "Want my baby."

The pathetic tilt to his voice was enough to make Steve's heart clench. God he was too precious. Suddenly a red-eye in the middle of the night for a two hour make-out session didn't sound like such a bad idea. But he could be the strong one for tonight, "You have me sweetheart. Want me to stay on until you fall asleep."

"Yes please," Eddie sighed, "Love your voice. It's so... nice. Like... audible perfume. Like poetry or something."

"Oh baby you are wasted," Steve said as he laid back down, nestling the phone to his ear, "Please tell me you drank some water before laying down?"

"... maybe?"

"Babe."

"I knoooow. Keep nagging me though. I missed that too."

"Is my bitching your bed time story?"

He could hear Eddie nodding, rusting against the fabric, "And it's the best. Keep going?"

Steve rolled his eyes, but he did what he was asked. Saying every silly little grievance he could think of. He whined about how cold it was in bed without him, how Eddie had promised to take out the trash before he left and forgot. Again. How he hated how quiet it was without him, how much he missed hearing his voice trailing in and out of every room.

And Eddie listened, mumbling out a few sleepy m'sorrys and I love yous along the way. Until all Steve could hear was the slow, steady sound of his breathing. But he didn't hang up. Not when that was one of his favorite sounds in the world. And the perfect thing to fall asleep to.

Steve smiled to himself as he closed his eyes, a little amazed that Eddie could still make him feel so loved, from hundreds of miles away.

But one thing was for sure. He still had to be the happiest man on earth.

357 notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 10 months

Note

what if König has a wifey that’s just obsessed with a specific artist!! she gets hyped when new albums are released, cries listening to their sad songs, can ramble for hours about their whole career progression and make in depth lyric analysis.

And who would do ANYTHING to see their favourite artist performing live. Literally anything. Like, 100% willing to take part in könig’s deepest, darkest fantasies just as long as he gets her tickets to the latest tour (and maybe some tour merch lol)

Would he be jealous of wifey being so invested in someone else or would he take advantage of her obsession to endear her to him?

This can go two ways!! If the wifey is obsessed with a band/a solo singer who is a female, Konig wouldn't really mind too much. He will buy you those expensive tickets if they are touring in Europe(he doesn't want you to go too far away from him, and the cross-continental flights are too much trouble even with his money and citizenship), will give you his card to buy some merch and honestly wouldn't mind you blasting the songs in the house. He has Opinions about the music he likes - mostly German hard rock, obvi, he was raised on this stuff, at first as a rebellion, and later came to really embrace it, but he won't mind you and your music tastes. Even if it's something basic like Taylor Swift or Lana Del Rey or Mitski, etc, he wouldn't honestly mind. Would like you to listen to his music, but if anything, your obsession with some girlie pop female singer only fuels his adoration for you. You're so cute and obsessive, he can't have enough!! If you like a band or a solo singer that is a man...oh boy. Konig googles the easiest way to kill a celebrity, preferably blasting the whole stage altogether. He knows that his being jealous of some singer is ridiculous...he also doesn't care. He tries to see the comparison between him and the guy you're obsessed with. 90% chance that they don't look alike at all - and it makes him worried, because what if you were to pursue someone like your favorite band boy?? he won't allow you to go to the concert, oh no, these places are too dangerous!! Too many people and too much possibility of mass attack or targeted assassination, you need to stay home! He won't falter even with your puppy eyes, his desire to keep you with him is too much( You'd have to promise you're definitely not leaving Konig, you just like the music and want to support your favorite artist...he will be so obnoxious and rude, not even realizing it - he is blasting your music tastes and probably leaving you crying after( your tears are the only thing that will kinda make him reconsider - but still, no concerts. Maybe a few posters and special edition disks, but please don't forget about your husband, he needs you to tell him how in love you are with him!! If that would mean sucking his cock like a good girl and stopping whining when he asks for cockwarming while he is playing or watching TV...you want those special merch thingies, right? And maybe, if you're good enough and play with your ass a little, he might consider buying a ticket...

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig

333 notes · View notes

redclercs · 1 year

Text

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

viii. 'cause I know that it's delicate

— the one where he is rooting for the anti-hero.

❝𝘉𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘳. 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘴.❞ —𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴

warnings: did somebody say charles-centered chapter? third person pov, hate, mention of last chapter's panic attack, misogyny (i'm sorry!!! i'm going to let y/n have peace eventually i swear!!!) foul language, cheesy taylor swift references, 2.4k words (+articles as always!).

masterlist ✢ next

Can we stop proving Taylor Swift right for once? When she wrote 'My reputation's never been worse' back in 2017 we thought that would be the end of it. But in more recent times (2017 was AGES ago, guys, come on) the lyrics are still relevant and being applied to actress y/n y/ln's life. Her reputation truly has never been worse.

One thing is being called bad at your job. Which, okay, she is not (I am not biased, I'm just not stupid). y/n is great at being a RomCom actress, she has a stylist that sells her well and has good social media presence. Or had, since that's all gone now.

Even if she was lucky enough to really start making it in Hollywood, we can't ignore the fact that for the past two months y/n has been exposed as a really bad person. AND SHE'S LETTING IT HAPPEN!

While a lot of people in social media have come to her defense in the rejected marriage proposal topic, saying she doesn't have to say yes if she doesn't feel like it, others say it's what she 'owed' to Aidan Kim.

Sources, who are still yet to be revealed, have talked to magazines and celebrity sites about her romance with the guy she only sees as a toy. Does y/n have feelings at all? I guess Charles Leclerc didn't like what she said about him, since there were no pictures of them together at the Spanish Grand Prix. Losing your boyfriend and your reputation in the same week must hurt.

But that's not even the main issue here, why is y/n letting all of this happen right in front of her eyes? Hello, girl, speak up! Does she really have nothing to say in her defense?

People are eating her alive and what she does is post her luxurious breakfast in Monaco, Elix cans and Ferrari Special Edition merch. y/n doesn't care what is being said as long as people keep talking about her. You're going to regret this, girl. That's all I'm saying.

For now, let's say goodbye to the 'Queen of RomComs' reputation (2019-2023).

By Bridget Garcia

Matilde Bassi comes in the defense of y/n y/ln after last week's new discoveries on her breakup, a turmoil that has followed y/n for months now.

"She owes nothing to Aidan Kim. She's a self-made woman, and it's frankly disgusting how people want to give her achievements to some man." The former Broadway star said in an Instagram Live on Sunday June 4th.

After comments asked for her thoughts on the rejected engagement, Bassi didn't hold back: "y/n, just like every woman, has the right to say no. It's a proposal, not a sentence. Good for everyone who is brave enough to know what they don't want in their lives anymore."

Matilde hasn't walked away unscathed after such brave statements, people have started to crucify her on social media. Comments go from how she doesn't deserve to keep playing Juliet to how they're glad she lives in Italy now so they can't come across her on the street, Bassi is suffering similar repercussions to that of her beloved friend.

Let's remember Matilde and y/n were seen together in Europe in May, enjoying a short break in Rome before attenting the Monaco Grand Prix, where y/n went to see alleged boyfriend Charles Leclerc.

What do you think? Is Matilde Bassi right, or should she have kept her comments to herself and held on to whatever amount of love the public still had for her?

FROM CHISMETIFOSO ON TIKTOK: "THE FERRARI BOYS TALK ABOUT Y/N Y/LN" PT.1 & 2

[female voiceover in spanish]: ❝Charles went back to Monaco for the week off before Canada, and stopped to take pictures with fans like he usually does. Someone was brave enough to ask him what was up with y/n, besties, you won't expect what he said.❞

[Charles Leclerc, in english]:❝I am lucky to have a woman like y/n in my life, she's an amazing person and a great friend—[cut off]❞

[female voiceover in spanish]: ❝The Carlos video was sent by a fan that met Carlos in Spain, she also asked about y/n and Charles and Carlos assured she's loved by everyone.❞

[Carlos Sainz, in spanish]: ❝y/n is friends with everyone at Ferrari because we spent a lot of time together, I like her a lot she's fun to be around.❞

[female voiceover in spanish]: ❝Well, what do you think besties? Are our Ferrari boys on a PR stunt or do they really like certain actress that has brought nothing but drama to the table since they met her?❞

June 7th, Maranello, Italy.

Charles was already having a bad day before they told him about the PR meeting. Although it seemed impossible, this season's car got shittier every time and it made his confidence drop a little more every time he got on it and failed to drive properly. Was winning Monaco really just a lucky strike like everyone kept saying?

Spain was definitely a whole weekend to forget, not only for the shitshow that the Grand Prix had been. He couldn't stop thinking about y/n's panic attack and the way she had cried in his arms that same night.

Charles is not oblivious to everything that is happening around her, and how it did seem to get worse every time. When he first met her, he didn't think it would get to this point where people who didn't even know her would inflict torture and mental abuse on her all day every single day. And although Charles has been through a fair amount of online bullying as a professional athlete and public figure, it's not in the same way that what y/n is being subjected to right now.

"Are you listening, Charles?" the Ferrari PR manager asks, tapping her fingers in front of him, a few drops of coffee jump from his red styrofoam cup and into the white surface.

He nods, uninterested. Charles couldn't care less about whatever the Elix guys have to say. He sees the way the worst of them, Stuart Schaffer, looks at y/n. Lascivious, filthy. Charles has thought about punching him more times than he would like to admit.

There was a whole presentation on how Ferrari is being perceived by fans all over the world right now, touching on several points starting with Carlos and him, the last three races and finally, the people that surround Ferrari.

"Elix is experiencing a drop in sales, and we believe this to be due to a certain public figure that has been seen around the Paddock..." the Elix representative is saying, pointing at a graph that ends at the bottom of the page.

"Maybe it's just that your drink is shit," Charles' mouth is quicker than his brain, and he knows he's completely fucked himself over by the gasps that run through the table. Except for Carlos, Carlos has to hide his laugh with a cough. "I don't know."

The only reason he drank it so often, even when cameras were off, was because he didn't know what to do with his hands when talking to y/n.

"Charles!" the PR manager hisses. There have been several times in which he has earned that hawk-like look from her, but it still fazes him.

Yet, he doesn't back down.

"If you were going to talk about y/n and blame her for whatever disaster is happening with your company, you should have at least asked her to come. Talking behind her back is low."

y/n's absence didn't surprise him, she was back in L.A. first thing Monday. And although he's glad she's not here to listen to these bunch of assholes blaming her for their mistakes, he wishes she was just to see her, to make sure she'll be okay.

His name is passed through the table again in hisses and warnings, and finally he lets go.

"This is your fault too, kid," Stuart Schaffer has his hand in a fist on top of the table, red blotches coloring his face and neck.

Charles loathes the word kid coming out of his mouth. Him and y/n are of similar age, and she's not a 'kid' in his eyes.

"If you weren't fucking that bitch while she had a boyfriend, this wouldn't be happening."

His ears are ringing and he knows it's his face now that's tinted red.

"Get out, please Charles," the manager intervenes before another word can come out of his mouth, or worse, before he reaches Stuart Schaffer with his hands. "Now."

Charles' veins feel on fire as he gets up from his seat and walks out of the conference room. Biting the tip of his tongue so as not to curse Stuart in every single language he knows.

Carlos makes eye contact with him as Charles closes the see-through door and shakes his head. 'They're going to give you so much shit,' his eyes say. And he's right.

The meeting takes an hour more and he's in one of the offices, buzzed with caffeine and bored out of his mind. He has, regretfully, scrolled down the hell that is Twitter. He's even more pissed off than before, and the caffeine is making him desperate to get out of his seat.

“How bad is it?” Charles asks when Carlos crosses the door.

“A little bad,” Carlos isn’t stressed, he even smiles. “For you mostly. But looking at the bright side, no more Elix.”

No more Elix also means no more money from them. Which won’t make a difference, he thinks.

“Thank God,” Charles lets his head fall down the back of the couch. His nape hurts.

“It also means no more y/n,” Carlos’ tone has changed and he’s looking at Charles with that puzzled look that means he wants Charles to expand on his thoughts.

“She can still come if she wants to,” Charles replies, still feigning tranquility. “I’ll give her a pass.”

And he really hopes y/n wants to. Because all he's done lately every time he goes back to the Ferrari Suite during race weekends is look for her around the room, hoping that she'll be looking at him already. It’s like pieces fall into place when it does. He knows he'll miss her if she's not there anymore.

"Yeah, me too," Carlos plops down on the couch next to him, putting his hands behind his neck. "Do you think she's okay?"

Charles shrugs, an impassive gesture that doesn't reflect the turmoil inside his brain and heart. He is worried about her, and has been for a while. "I'm sure she is, she's back in Los Angeles." They have texted often since he left right after the Grand Prix, but it isn't the same as hearing her voice tell him it's alright.

Carlos stares at him for a few seconds more, thinking his next words through. It's not like he doesn't notice the way Charles looks at y/n every time they're in the same room, he also isn't ignorant to the get-together they shared in Monaco—the one Charles shared zero details about—or what happened in Spain when neither made it to dinner.

But he wonders if Charles is aware of how hard he is falling and what kind of a mess he's getting into.

Carlos likes y/n too, although it took them some time to become acquainted. y/n knows how to throw the exact words at him to tease him, she's brilliant, and when people aren't putting her down, her good mood is contagious. She's like sunshine coming through the curtains on a warm morning.

Yet, it's obvious he'll feel more protective over Charles. He knows it's a mistake to spend so much time on social media, not only looking at what people say about himself, but about Charles and y/n, the cruel lies and twisted truths. He has thought about asking Charles whether he's really aware of the way things look to the outsiders, or how they're tearing him down too.

"What is it?" Charles asks, frowning.

Carlos shakes his head. It's not his place to say anything about his infatuation, if that's what this is. "Why don't you give her a call?"

"Yes, I might." Charles nods absently, looking at his lock screen. Pierre has sent him another link to more news about how he's a homewrecker. Pierre calls him 'loverboy' and makes fun of every new article that comes out about y/n and him. Charles hasn't found it entertaining once.

"Charles," the PR manager doesn't have to raise her voice in the silence of the room. "Come here, right now. Please."

"Told you," Carlos mutters, crossing his legs.

Charles groans and gets up. A reprimand isn't the end of the world when his car gets progressively shittier and luck left him a while ago.

And when he's not sure of when he'll see y/n again.

Charles knows he doesn't need to 'fight' in the name of y/n, or that she even would like him to. She warned him weeks ago that he shouldn't get into the nightmare that this situation is. But he'll be damned if he's going to continue letting people put her down at his expense.

y/n is not a damsel in distress, he knows. And standing up for her doesn't make him a knight in shining armor. It makes him a decent human being and a good friend.

Charles thinks really hard about this, way often. Is it okay that his friend makes his heartbeat quicken every time they're together? He feels like a teenager again, with butterflies flying around his stomach when he thinks about her. Not to mention the fact that he's tried to flirt with her several times, to no avail.

There are many things in the world that Charles wishes he could change. His luck, to begin with. But he really wishes things were different when it comes to y/n. He wants her to have peace, he wishes she'd never had to deal with panic attacks or anxiety induced by hate. He wishes they'd met in another time, when things weren't so fragile and the world could stay away from them, and wherever he knows he wants things with her to go.

And he wishes he knew if he's brave enough to deal with all of it.

"Hello?"

The wave of emotion hits him from head to toe and it takes him a moment to catch his breath. He's worse than a teenager, he knows. Charles has never acted this way before, and it makes him vulnerable in a way he doesn't completely dislike, but isn't comfortable with either.

"Hello y/n," he says, after clearing his throat. "I was um– I was just thinking about you."

There is a pause on the other side of the line and Charles looks at the clock on his nightstand. He did the math to figure out the timezones three times, yet he does it again.

"Hi Charles," her voice comes after a sigh of relief, "Were you?"

"Uh– yeah, I– I just wanted to know how you're doing."

Another prolonged silence and Charles adds: "Is that okay?"

y/n chuckles, "Of course it's okay."

"So, how are you?" Charles continues, anxiously pacing around the room. He wants to ask the right questions. "How's L.A.?" maybe that's not one of them.

"Well, it's Lalaland, what can you expect?" there is movement in the background and then a door shuts. "How's Maranello?"

"Well..." Charles isn't sure if Elix has called her already and he doesn't want to be the one to break the news. "The usual. Praying for improvement every week."

"That's something we have in common," y/n's chuckle comes without humor this time. "But I'm going back to New York in a few days, so that's something to look forward to."

Charles smiles. "Do you need any help with moving?"

"Are you flying from Italy to help me move back to New York?" y/n laughs and her genuineness is back.

"I could, if you needed me to."

He has never felt more awkward in his life, or giddier.

"Thank you, Charles. But I have two suitcases with me, I can handle it like a big girl."

It's Charles' turn to laugh, he has stopped pacing. “Just let me know if you need me, y/n.”

“I think I will.” y/n says, and after some consideration: “Can you stay with me on the phone? Just for a little while.”

And Charles is embarrassingly willing to drop everything and stay on the phone for as long as she needs to.

“Yes, sure,” he replies instead, “What do you want to talk about?”

And they talk about everything and nothing. Silly commercials, pet-peeves about airports, favorite colors and long forgotten songs. It takes more than a little while, but neither care about how much time has passed.

It’s not mental gymnastics realizing he likes her. Likes her, likes her. He feels like he’s inside one of her RomComs; already pining for her. What would the name be? Something cheesy and catchy, like 'Racing Hearts'. He likes it. And hates it, too.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” She interrupts her story about the nightmare that Paris was when filming Parisian Valentine, not minding cutting her story short.

Regret comes immediately because he doesn’t know how to fill the silence now, not with the words he wants to say.

That he knows how delicate things are right now. That he likes her for who she has shown him to be and how he is impatient to know even more about her. But he knows he’s probably going to scare her away if those silly words actually come out of his mouth.

“I like talking to you,” Charles says instead. The caffeine hasn't left his system, but he knows the new buzz comes from something else.

“But?” Y/n prompts, he can hear the change in her tone.

“No buts. I like it, I like you.”

“I like you too, Charles.” She says softly, and he pictures the small smile on her face. The one she saves for the times she's one hundred percent comfortable, like when they were at the lake in Monaco.

“And I want you to be okay,”

y/n lets out a shaky breath that makes the microphone crackle. “We are okay, though, aren’t we?” She’s thinking about the tabloids again.

“We are okay. We’ve been on the phone for two hours,” he laughs, and, regretfully, lets out a yawn before he can help it.

“Get some rest, Charlie,” y/n lowers her voice too. “Thank you for staying with me.”

The endearment, although common when people try to be cute to him, sends another wave of giddiness through his body.

"Anytime," he doesn't fight her goodbye because it's a lost cause, especially after he let on his tiredness. "I mean it."

"Thank you," she repeats, "You're a good friend."

Charles smiles, that's enough for now, more than enough for now.

"See you soon, y/n." Charles assures, a smile on his face.

"Goodnight Charlie."

─── team principal radio: ❝thank you for reading! are we loving charles or not? thank you to everyone who lets me know their thoughts and interpretations of Delicate, it's incredibly motivating for me to keep writing and it makes me super happy! if you're a ghost reader, i also appreciate you, but don't be shy to interact♡❞

✰ paddock club members: @sassyheroneckgiant @flowerchild-96 @fangirlika @shegotboreddsoo @roseamongthorns13 @cissyp @chimchimjiminie16 @saturnsrinqs @roni-midnights @gayyvodka6 @studioreader @its-ash-not-grey @lu-morningstar-2 @ferraribabe @reidsworld @feelslikestrawberries @celestialams @kosmosgalore @heeseung-baby @missenclod @buendiabebeta @mycenterfold @aces-tattooartist @burningrred @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @rainybabe25 @ru-kru @lazybot @teenagedreams-cl @cool-ultra-nerd @kuskumu @formulakay3 @bisexual-desi @somanyfandomsbruh @icarus-nex @haziefairy @xjval @xoxoloverb @sainzleclercs @headinthecloudssblog @incoherenciass @bookophiliac @torrie421 @nooshytushie @azxula @steephanie07 @anonymous8462 @tbisloneely @pukklv @bn7921 @be-your-coffee-pot @fdl305 @lovely-blackinnon @landonorrizzz @ruleroftheuniverse @ivegotparticulartaste

want to join the paddock club? click here!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you #f1 x you #cl16 fanfic #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine

946 notes · View notes

roses-for-rosalyn · 1 year

Note

what if abby's father and the reader's father were friends and the like to hangout and play tennis a lot ; one day jerry anderson tries to convince his daughter to play a game with him, his friend and his daughter (reader) who has just returned home after two years of travelling ;

both girls accept their father's invitation! then the big day arrives and abby finds herself in front of reader in her pretty tennis set (and maybe something could happen in the locker room, after a heated match 👀)

I'm baaaack!

Sorry this took me so incredibly long it's been a weird few weeks. I hope I did your idea justice, she's a long one.

word count: 3.3k

content warnings: enemies to lovers, mean, competitive Abby, thigh riding, fem! reader, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), overstimulation, dirty talk, modern au where Abby's dad isn't dead obvi, no use of y/n

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

You were sitting at your kitchen counter sipping on a glass of ice water and gazing out the window, watching the summer breeze rattle the trees. It had been a few weeks since you’d gotten back from Europe, but ice still felt like a luxury. Europe was so beautiful and you wouldn’t trade it for anything, but after a few years you started to yearn for air conditioning, cold water and disgusting greasy fried food. Your first bite of a McChicken back in the states was orgasmic.

You also missed your family, your dad would call you every other day and talk about his day in incredible detail. He joined a country club and got into tennis while you were gone, he even made a few friends. You were especially happy about that because you were worried about him getting lonely while you were gone. You didn’t want him rotting in an empty house while you went out and traveled the world. Even though your dad’s days were mundane and repetitive you just liked listening to him talk. His voice was the only thing that could dull the feeling of homesickness.

The front door opening pulls you out of your thoughts. Your dad walks in clearly having just got back from the country club, he was dressed head to toe in tennis gear including a visor. You can’t help but giggle at how stupid and preppy he looks. You didn’t exactly grow up going to country clubs, and dressing in brand name clothes. Luckily your dad had gotten a new job so he could splurge on himself. It made you happy to watch him treat himself for the first time in his life.

“What? Why are you laughing at me?” He looks up and down checking his clothes for stains or any wardrobe malfunctions.

“Nothing, you just look a little funny dressed in your tennis uniform. Not exactly used to you in country club attire.” You smile as he acts mock offended.

“I think it suits me, thank you very much.” He dramatically marches over to the fridge to fill up his water bottle. He’s really not gonna let go of this.

“You’re right, you were born to wear exclusively Vineyard Vines and sip wine on the balcony of your third beach house.” You say with a smirk.

“Sounds pretty nice to me.” He smiles and leans on the counter across from you.

He hesitates before saying “I’ve been meaning to invite you to play with me and Jerry, I think you’d have fun, it’ll be like the good old days on your high school tennis team. You’d probably deeply humble both of us.” Jerry was your dad’s best friend right now, one of the first people that welcomed him into the country club.

“Dad, I haven’t played tennis in three years I don’t kn-”

“Jerry said he’d bring his daughter too. She also used to play a lot of sports in high school. We could do father daughter teams or daughters vs fathers. It’ll be fun.” He sounds so excited, you would feel way too guilty turning him down at this point.

“Ok, ok. Have you met his daughter? Is she like.. Nice?” You didn’t want to have to fake getting along with her for your dad’s sake, if you were being honest you would probably end up doing that anyway. Your dad wasn’t exactly good at finding you friends.

“Yes, she’s incredibly nice, and respectful. She’s a few years older than you, about 25 I think, and she works for a construction company.” He pauses trying to recollect the little information he knows about his friend’s daughter. “She’s so strong I’m pretty sure she could pick me up bridal style.” Your dad laughs at his own joke, but now you are a little nervous. It’s starting to sink in that your dad essentially set up a playdate for you with an incredibly buff woman. You just hope you don’t end up noticeably ogling at her, maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll be incredibly mean.

You woke up bright and early the next morning, your dad bribed you with a fancy breakfast before the match. The food was delicious, but you couldn’t stop your nervous movements, constantly tapping your fingers or feet. Your dad noticed and reassured you there was no reason to be nervous, and that there’s no pressure. To be honest your nerves weren’t completely because you were out of practice. Meeting new people always made you anxious, especially when it was arranged like this. There was an unspoken expectation for everyone to get along and enjoy themselves and you liked to keep your expectations low.

Before you knew it you and your dad were walking to the tennis courts. Your dad noticed you were starting to get all up in your head.

“Hey, loosen up kiddo this will be fun, if it’s not you let me know and we can leave. I’ll just tell them I’m not feeling well and we can get ice cream. Jerry will understand.” He messes with your hair a bit and you feel mildly relieved.

Once you get to the tennis court all of the relief you felt drained from your body, immediately replaced with pure anxiety. As you walk onto the smooth green court you see a middle aged brunette man, no doubt that was Jerry, and a tall strong blonde standing next to him. She towered over him, every muscle chiseled to perfection by what must have been some higher power. As you got closer you could see her biceps straining against her blue t-shirt, her thighs were barely visible, but from what you could see they were just as muscular as her arms. You were beginning to ogle when you’re snapped out of it from the sound of your dad greeting Jerry. Your dad shakes hands with Jerry and Abby and you begin to do the same. Abby’s blue eyes pierced right through you, a neutral expression adorning her face. She was incredibly intimidating considering she could clearly snap you in two. You shake Jerry’s hand “I’ve heard so much about you, hope you still remember your stuff from high school. Your dad and I have gotten pretty good.”

You smile and reply “It’s been a while, but I’m sure I’ll warm up in no time!” You liked to stay humble, but honestly you were pretty good at tennis. You had won a lot of games and you were one of the best on the team. You didn’t talk about it much though because you were self aware enough to know literally no one cares about tennis. You were also as a result extremely competitive so you were hoping you would be able to tone it down in order to not scare your dad’s friend away.

You move to shake Abby’s hand “I’m Abby, nice to finally meet you.” From her tone you would have assumed she thought it was indeed not very nice to meet you. But you nod and smile as her calloused hand engulfs yours. You can’t help but notice how warm her skin is to the touch and how large her hands are.

She was incredibly attractive.

“Alrighty you guys ready for an ass whoopin?” Jerry jests.

“You bet.” Your dad replies.

You and your dad make your way to the other side of the net and get into your ready positions. Abby serves the ball first and her swing was strong, but it was no match for your speed. You quickly learned the harder Abby hit the ball the louder she would grunt, so naturally you attempted to rile her up further. You would smirk arrogantly at her every time you and your dad gained a point, and take an extra long time getting ready to serve on the rare occasion she and Jerry would score a point. You and your dad rack up points quickly and the blonde was growing visibly frustrated. She was starting to hit the ball even harder, her jaw was clenched and her expression was so serious. It was adorable.

Eventually Jerry calls for a break and sits on one of the benches with you dad, leaving you to sit with Abby. Alone.

You sit down next to her on the wooden bench and start sipping from your water bottle. She does the same and you sit in silence for a bit. You notice the sweat on her brow and how her shirt is starting to stick to her skin. You can almost make out her abdominal muscles through the thin blue fabric.

“I’m not usually this bad at sports, not used to losing.” Abby says, looking straight ahead. You can’t help but smile at her discontent, she seems just as competitive as you.

“I’m sure your strong muscles get you pretty far in most sports, but apparently tennis is not one of them, especially when you're up against an expert like me.” You say trying to joke around to lighten her mood.

“I wouldn’t classify a varsity tennis player as an expert, but okay.” She says with a smug look, still not facing you. She definitely did not understand your humor.

“Clearly enough of an expert to beat you.” You shoot back. Abby grows silent and continues to sip her water.

You sit in silence while your dad chats with Jerry, giving up on trying to make conversation with Abby. Eventually Jerry and your father stand up ready to finish the game. You and your dad beat them miserably. The game only ended because the sun started to go down, the country club quickly emptying out for the day.

Your dad and Jerry suggest you all get washed up in the locker rooms before leaving. They walk away from the tennis court side by side talking and laughing while you and Abby walk behind them in almost total silence. Once the group reaches the locker rooms the two dads turn to you and Abby.

“Would it be ok if me and Jerry grab a drink together? Abby can take you home in Jerry’s car.” The absolute last thing you wanted was to be stuck in a small car with this mean blonde, but you smiled and nodded.

“See you later kiddo.” Your dad smiles and tussles your hair before walking into the locker room.

You walk into the locker room as well, planning to just keep your distance from Abby for as long as you could until you were stuck with her in a tiny car. You can hear her heavy footsteps follow behind you and you quickly put your bag down, grab a towel and walk towards the showers to avoid facing her. You walk into one of the stalls and turn on the shower. The warm water helps to calm you down and soothes you. You lather on the soap massaging your muscles to relieve any soreness or tension, making sure you washed all the sweat away from the match. Unfortunately you have to be quick because you don’t want to make Abby any more annoyed than she was.

As you step out and begin to dry yourself off you realized you forgot your change of clothes.

Fuck.

You wrap the towel around you tightly and make your way to the lockers. Abby is sitting on the bench in the middle lacing up her shoes. Thank god she was looking down. You scramble over to your bag and grab your clothes out. You turn to head back to the showers to change in peace but Abby’s voice stops you.

“You took fucking forever.” She’s not looking at you, which you have observed to be a habit of hers.

“Didn’t want to stink up your car. Is that ok with you?” Abby scoffs, but says nothing in response.

“Seriously what the fuck did I do to you?” You blurt out, exasperated. You’re not usually this confrontational, but you felt like you deserved an answer. “I have barely had a conversation with you and for some reason you seem to have a problem with me or something.”

Abby stands up angrily to face you and you had almost forgotten you were wearing a towel until she looked at you up and down with wide eyes. “You weren’t even gonna get dressed before asking me that question?” She sounds genuinely pissed off. Was everything you did an inconvenience?

“Doesn’t matter, just answer it.” You look her straight in the eyes, challenging her.

“Fine. You really wanna know?” You nod “I barely had a conversation with you and I could tell you were a brat.” As she’s talking she starts walking towards you, you didn’t even realize you were backing away until you felt the cool metal lockers against your skin. “You have an attitude problem, you know that? You don’t know when to shut the fuck up” She’s close, too close, she’s looking directly down at you daring you to respond.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You were the one who started being rude to me.” You refuse to break eye contact with her, trying to intimidate her from your height was ineffective, she wasn’t backing down. “What are you gonna do?” You ask boldly, tilting your head inviting her to answer. “Teach me a lesson? We both know you’re not gonna do anything, so just let me get dressed so I can get home and never see you again.” She doesn’t respond, the only sound was you and Abby’s synchronized breaths as she stared at you with a fire in her eyes. Her stare somehow made you feel more naked than you already were, making you overly aware of the fact that you were wearing a towel that was starting to slip down.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for sweetheart.” She says almost breathlessly. The anger in her eyes quickly turns into a hunger when she looks down at your towel slowly slipping off your body. You’re holding on to the towel for dear life.

“Fuck.” Abby says breathlessly before doing the absolute last thing you could have expected. She kisses you. Hard.

You let out a surprised squeak and quickly back away, both of your chests heaving. You look in her eyes and see a desperation and hunger that’s almost scary, but for some reason you kiss her back. Abby melts into you and threads her fingers into your hair. You place your hands gently against her chest as she pushes you further against the lockers with her strong body. Her hands slowly travel down to the towel barely maintaining your dignity. She gently pries your hands from the soft material and rips it off throwing it across the room, keeping her lips on yours the entire time. You barely notice the cool air against your bare skin, she is so close to you you can feel her body heat radiate through her clothing.

Abby uses her foot to move yours outward, spreading your legs enough for her to slot her thigh between them. You moan into her mouth the moment her strong thigh makes contact with your bare cunt. You start slowly writhing against her, trying to relive the ache that was growing in your center. Abby breaks away and looks down at you desperately grinding on her thigh. “You’re already so wet for me sweetheart. Barely had to do anything.” She smiles smugly as she watches you become a moaning mess, her thigh creating a perfect pressure against your clit.

Abby starts kissing you down your neck, occasionally sucking on the sensitive skin, the feeling of her rough tongue causing you to whimper. She begins circling her fingers around your nipples, teasing them, before pinching them and rolling them between her fingers. You begin to move faster against her thigh and the pleasure in your belly begins to build. Your moaning starts to become louder as you begin to reach your high. Abby notices and moves her thigh further against you, putting even more pressure on your sensitive bud. “You close baby?” You nod and whine, desperate for any kind of release. You start moving faster against Abby’s thigh and your pleasure quickly hits its peak. It comes crashing against you in overwhelming waves, forcing loud moans from your lips. Abby eventually puts her leg down and backs away slightly, before kneeling in front of you. Before you can ask any questions she grabs one of your legs, hooks it around her shoulder and licks a stripe up your soaking cunt. You hiss through your teeth, sensitive from your first orgasm. She begins teasing your clit with her tongue and you have to thread your fingers into her hair for something to hold on to.

You barely manage to whimper out, “Abs-fuck- I-I’m too sen-senitive.”

She stops for a second and looks up at you. The sight of her kneeling between your legs is nearly enough to have you coming again. “You can take it baby, gonna make you come until you can’t give me that attitude anymore.” And with that she starts lapping at your cunt once again. She sucks your clit into her mouth, her tongue circling your sensitive bud. You let out a surprised whine, your chest heaving from the intense sensation. Abby’s hands grab hold of your hips, bring you closer to her mouth.

You can feel another orgasm building as Abby rubs her thumbs in circles against your skin. You begin uncontrollably writhing against her tongue, but Abby quickly uses her grip on your hips to pin you firmly against the lockers forcing you to remain still. The action caused your pleasure to bubble over. “Abby-”, you whine out “-ffuck-fuck.”

She keeps assaulting your clit through your orgasm, not slowing down. As you begin to come down, you become sensitive again and try to wriggle away from her. She pins your hips against the lockers and looks up at you with a stern look in her eyes. She wasn’t going to stop until you couldn’t even hold yourself up.

She shoves two fingers inside of you causing you to gasp at the sudden intrusion. Her digits slid in easily, your arousal now dripping down your thighs. She curls her fingers forward causing you to have to bite your lip to keep from screaming.

“Don’t you fucking dare bite your lip I want everyone to be able to hear you screaming for me sweetheart.” You clench around her thick fingers at her words and Abby takes that as a sign to keep talking. “You’re taking me so well princess. Think I can add another finger?” You nod eagerly at her in response. “Use your words baby.”

“Y-yes pl-please yes.” With your pathetic reply she adds another finger, filling you to the brim. She fucks you at a steady pace occasionally looking up at you to watch your face scrunch up in pleasure. She begins sucking hard on your clit causing you to let out a pornographic moan. She speeds up her fingers, hitting your g-spot with each thrust. Little moans and whimpers were escaping your lips every time her fingers hit that spongy spot. Your walls began clenching around Abby’s fingers and she knew you were close. Your orgasm hit you quickly and caught you by surprise, your whole body feeling the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt. You’re not even sure what noises you were making or what you were saying, the pleasure was so blinding all you could do was buck your hips into Abby’s mouth. You were being held up exclusively by Abby’s grip on your hips. She stands up and quickly scoops you up bridal style to sit you down on the bench. She helps you get dressed and you could barely protest, she reduced you to jello. Abby stands up and offers her hand to help you up. You oblige and as you stand up she says “Need you to teach me your tennis skills sometime.” Weirdly she’s smiling.

You can’t help but smirk, “Yeah? Well it’s gonna cost you and I don’t take sexual favors as payment.”

#abby anderson #the last of us 2 #abby x you #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby smut #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #the last of us smut

567 notes · View notes

builtbybrokenbells · 3 months

Text

Melodic Memories | Track 3: I Need You - Lynyrd Skynyrd (1 of 2)

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 19.5k

Warnings: sadness, heartbreak, crying, high school breakups, unrequited love, estranged parent/strained parental relationships, angst, anger, bickering, name calling, depression, anxiety, self doubt/self consciousness, swearing, flirting, fluff, drinking, smoking, mentions of hookups/casual sex, sorry if I miss any!

Here’s part one of two 😁 part two is finished, but i gotta build some suspense. let me know what you think and we’ll see what happens in pt. 2! as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!

Also a special shout-out to @gretavangroupie and @gretavanmoon for always keeping me on track, putting up with my craziness, and for the unwavering support and encouragement 🤍 melodic memories wouldn’t be what it is without you 😌

Her POV

‘Ain't no need to worry

There ain't no use to cry

'Cause I'll be comin' home soon

To keep you satisfied

You know I get so lonely

That I feel I can't go on

And it feels so good inside, babe

Just to call you on the telephone

And I said—‘

“Do I even want to know why this one’s on here?” Mel chortled, reaching out and pressing the pause button on the CD player. The music cut out, silence filling the air around you, instantly making you miss the sound of the sweet melody. Worse yet, it made you miss the boy who burned it into the tracklist to begin with.

“What can I say? We were romantics.” You shrugged, leaning back in your chair and kicking your feet up on the desk. “Guess this one doesn’t really have a memory, per se. More or less just lots of listening.” You giggled, feeling more at ease with the reminiscent music as time dragged on.

It had been a few weeks since you reached out to Jake, a few weeks since you threw the entire universe off course and opened your heart to him once again. Most of your room was packed up now, only a few items still waiting to be thrown out or stuffed in a box. Although you’d made lots of great progress on your most pressing task, packing up boxes had not been the highlight of the weeks that had flown by. Instead of buzzing with excitement over your long awaited move, you were filled with joy that Jake was back around. Since the fated phone call that left you with so many questions and regrets, time was allowing answers and comforts over the things you never believed would resolve. The conversation between you was constant, only slowing when you were asleep, and phone calls were almost a daily routine, so long as his schedule allowed for it.

There wasn’t much talk of what the two of you were, or really what you were doing, but you did know it felt good to wake up to his name on your screen every day. You were getting to know each other again, slowly but surely, through drawn out bouts of heavy flirtation. He was sending loads of pictures as he traveled across Europe, ensuring you didn’t miss out on a single bit of his life now that he had you back around.

“Listening? What does that—oh, god, Y/N!” Mel exclaimed, recoiling in faux outrage. “This was your sex song?!” A shriek of laughter erupted from you, the expression of disgust on her face unusually funny to you. “Gross. You’re gross, you know.” She muttered, flipping to the next page of your senior yearbook.

“You were the one who said it, Mel.” You stressed your point, clicking the play button so the tune would continue. “And it wasn’t our sex song.” You corrected her on the matter, your tone short. “We had lots of sex songs, and even though this happened to be one, it’s more than just that.”

“Ugh,” she shuddered, her eyes flickering towards you. “I want to ask, but I’m not sure I want to know.”

“It was our everything song.” You shrugged. “My grandfather loved Skynyrd, and I guess he passed that down to me. Used to listen to ‘Second Helping’ over and over again when he worked outside. Could recite that album better than the bible.”

“Yeah, like you’re a godly person.” She rolled her eyes.

“You get what I mean.” You tossed the stress ball you were playing with at her head, over her dramatics and eager to tell the story.

“When we got together, I used to beg Jake to learn how to play Free Bird. Guess I never understood how hard that actually was, but eventually, he learned it anyway. It was horrible, awful, even, but he did it for me, and that’s what mattered.”

“Bet he looked hot doing it, though.” She hummed, recalling the many Instagram pictures she’d scrolled through. You narrowed your gaze, unsure if you should be upset about the statement or not. After a moment of bargaining, you decided not to take her words to heart in hopes to avoid any misplaced jealousy.

“Yeah, he definitely did.” You chuckled, conceding as you recalled the memory. He did look hot playing it, but then again, he always did. You couldn’t argue with her when she was right.

“Okay, but Free Bird isn’t on here. Why is this one important?”

“Well, Free Bird is a long song.” She let out a sigh, growing tired of waiting. A small smile pulled at your lips, knowing your drawn out rendition of the tale was torturous to her. “So, in the meantime, he learned this. Said it was easier, and more fitting, because that’s exactly how he felt about me.”

“Was your whole relationship just him leaning to play songs for you?” She asked, envious of all the grand romantic gestures. From all you told her, she quickly understood why he was so hard for you to forget.

“Not all of it, but a lot of it.” You chuckled, tapping the cap of your pen against your notebook. On the paper sat a list of the items you would need to purchase for your new apartment. Even the exciting prospect of moving out and surviving on your own couldn’t compare to the storm of thoughts that you were constantly stuck in, always pertaining to the same boy. “He was a big blues guy, and I guess we got along so well because I was, too. He showed me so much music, and I still listen to most of it.” You explained, smiling to yourself as you thought back on it. “After he played that song for me, it kinda turned into our anthem, I guess. Wherever we went, whatever we were doing, it was always in the background. Lots of road trips and beach days spent with this song, and some fantastic memories made to it. And yeah, lots of sex, too.” You sighed, dreamily reminiscing on the best days of your entire life. As you stared off at the ceiling, a pillow went flying, striking you straight in the face and abruptly ending that train of thought.

“God, you talk about it like it was phenomenal, or something. You were in high school, it couldn’t have been that good.” She rolled onto her back, holding the yearbook over her head as she continued to search for pictures of you. You giggled to yourself, tossing the pillow back to the bed. It landed beside her with a pathetic bounce, and you watched it until it fell still again.

“It was that good though.” You said, your eyes fluttering closed as you thought back to the time. “Maybe it’s because I was in love with him, but to me, it was always that good.”

“Gross, Y/N.” She teased, not actually as bothered as she was letting on. “Seriously, though. He seems great. Even after all this time, he still really loves you.” Your cheeks turned crimson, your entire body encased with warmth at the term. Love was something you were trying to push from your mind, especially because the two of you never declared that you would be rekindling the romance. There was so much up in the air, so much uncertainty, but it wasn’t a bad feeling for once. For the first time in a long time, you were excited about tomorrow and what it would bring. “Holy shit!” She exclaimed, shooting upright. You jumped in surprise, not expecting such a reaction from her.

“What is your issue?” You asked, laying a hand over your racing heart.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” she announced, reading straight from the page. You let out a groan, knowing she found the seniors section of the yearbook, and you were about to be subjected to some intense scrutiny. “Can’t imagine without: Kiszka twins and my AP bio textbook. Probably destiny: married to Jake Kiszka. Pet peeves: open-mouthed chewing, being late. First love: Jim Morrison—fair enough. Weaknesses: guitarists and brown eyes. God, you were so whipped.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No, it’s cute, really.” She giggled, looking over the photo of you before flipping to the next page. “Ah, Jacob Thomas Kiszka. He was a cutie, huh? Can’t imagine without: my guitar, Y/N, my brothers. Probable destiny: playing guitar on stage somewhere, married to Y/N. Pet peeves: broken patch cord, Josh. Weaknesses: High E String, sunshine. I take it you’re sunshine?”

“Shut up.” You groaned, your face burning as you tried to disappear into your seat. You knew she was having fun, and you couldn’t take that away from her, but reliving all of the embarrassing high school memories was incredibly painful.

“Y/N Y/L/N, most likely to rule the world.” She raised an eyebrow, casting a glance in your direction. You gave a shrug, chuckling slightly at her expression.

“They thought I was smart, I guess.”

“Was it in a world domination way, or like a peace-love-harmony kind of way?” She pressed, leaning into the conversation as she awaited an answer.

“Depended on the day, really.” You grinned.

“Jacob Kiszka, most likely to win a Grammy.”

“And he did.” You beamed, your stomach fluttering with pride as you said it.

“When are you getting me a rockstar boyfriend?” She huffed, only slightly envious of how the cards played out for you.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You squeaked, shutting the idea down before it could go any further. “We’re just old friends catching up. That’s all it is.”

“Yeah, sure.” She laughed, unable to agree with that statement. “You talk nonstop, and his name still has a heart beside it in your phone. You’re so in love I’m surprised you can even think of anything else.”

“Mel, would you quit it? It’s not that serious!” You tried to downplay it, defending yourself against the accusations and only ever making yourself look more guilty.

As you were about to continue your argument, your ringtone began to sound through the room, the soft melody of Dreams by Fleetwood Mac filling your ears. She raised an eyebrow, biting back a knowing smirk as she patiently waited to hear who the call was from. You pulled your phone from your pocket, your eyes drifting over the screen. Your cheeks darkened and your embarrassment grew as you saw the little red heart beside his name, but answered without any hesitation.

“Hi.” You fought back a smile, finding your heart racing as his face graced your screen. You noticed the background of the picture, his head resting on a car seat and the ambient sound of wheels on pavement filling your ears. There was quiet chatter coming from the backseat, barely noticeable even if you were straining to listen.

“Hi, sunshine.” He grinned, his eyes heavy like he’d just woken up from sleep, or perhaps he was trying his best to fight it. It had been a long time since you saw the expression on his face, it was unfamiliar now. The gravelly tone of his voice, low and slow, led you to believe he was just waking. “What are you up to?”

“Packing, as usual.” You sighed, holding the phone away from your face and spinning in your chair, showing him the plethora of boxes laying around your room. “We found my old yearbook, so we took a break to look through it.”

“Find anything good?” He asked, amused at the thought of you taking that walk down memory lane.

“She didn’t, but I definitely did.” Mel cut in, making her presence known in the best way she knew how; loudly and annoyingly.

“Hey, Mel.” Jake laughed, recognizing the tone from previous phone calls. You kicked your chair towards the bed, holding your phone a little higher so she was in frame too.

“Hello, Jacob.” She beamed. “Did you know that Y/N’s first love was Jim Morrison?” She began, her eyes flickering towards you as she spoke.

“Okay, Mel—“ you tried, but Jake cut you off mid sentence, liking the direction the conversation was headed in.

“I did know that, actually.” He grinned, blinking a few more times as he sat up in his seat. “What else did you find?”

“Oh, nothing too serious.” She sighed, pretending to ponder the question. “I did happen to learn that her weaknesses, apparently, are guitarists with brown eyes. What a coincidence, right?”

“Huh, that is strange.” He giggled, his cheeks dusted pink as he listened to her words. “Still true, sweetheart?” He asked, his question pointed at you now.

“Yeah, I guess.” You smiled, speaking softly and sweetly. “Happen to know anyone who fits the bill?”

“I do, actually.” A voice cut in from the backseat, half a head popping into view of the camera. Your eyes lit up, your smile blinding as you recognized the boy in view.

“Sam!” You exclaimed, barely noticing Jake landing a sharp smack on his arm. He didn’t have much time to greet you, because Jake was pushing him back into his seat and telling him to mind his own business.

“Sorry ‘bout him.” Jake cleared his throat, sending a threatening stare over his shoulder. “You know how he is. Loves being the center of attention, and he never got over that crush he had in the eighth grade.” You heard a shout of protest from the backseat, but neither of you paid any mind to it.

“Sounds like someone else I know.” You gave a playful roll of your eyes, teasing him despite there being some truth to the statement.

“Kiszka curse, I suppose.” He shrugged. “What else did you find, Mel?”

“In 2014, you said your weakness was sunshine.” Mel continued, looking back at the book to double check if the statement was correct. “You like the sun, Jacob?” He chuckled to himself, his eyes sparkling with nothing but adoration as he watched your face. He continued to focus on you as he replied.

“Yeah, I do. I love sunshine, Mel. Always have.” Your entire body warmed with the sweetness of his words, your stomach filled with butterflies and your heartbeat rapidly against your chest.

“Hmm,” she hummed, an evil little smirk on her lips. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Alright, that’s enough.” You huffed, trying your best to digest his words and move on from the subject. Focusing on it would do nothing but worsen the blossoming feelings in your chest, and you were doing everything in your power to keep them at bay. “Where are you headed, anyway?” You tried to change the topic, hoping it would lessen the tugging of your heartstrings.

“I’m glad you asked, sunshine.” He grinned, making the intent of his last statement even more obvious. “Since we’ve got a few weeks before our next show, the boys and I got to talking, and we decided to visit home for a few days.”

“Home?” You asked, leaning forward in your seat at the new information. “Like, Michigan?” You tried not to let your excitement get the best of you, but your hands were vibrating, making it difficult to hold the phone steady. The prospect of possibly being able to see Jake again, in person rather than through a screen, was almost too much to take.

“Where else, sweetheart?” He smiled, noticing your eyes light up at the realization. Of course, to his brothers, Michigan was home. To him though, the state had little to do with the homesickness ravaging his heart. The only thing that made it feel like home was you, and that’s exactly what he was headed towards. Like an invisible rope tying the two of you together, he’d been feeling the pull ever since you decided to break the no contact rule you had put in place so long ago.

“You’re really on your way here?” You asked, needing the confirmation to believe he was telling the truth.

“Here now, actually. Checked into the hotel a few hours ago and we’re headed to see our parents.” He clarified further, sending a small smile your way.

“So that’s why you’ve barely been texting me!” You exclaimed, finally piecing the two together. “You suck at lying, and you’re terrible at keeping secrets.” You giggled, knowing it for a fact and knowing it better than anyone else. Every gift, every date, every moment spent together was never anything close to a surprise, but it was perfectly fine by you; you loved the excitement in his eyes when he was about to share something with you, loving you so much that he couldn’t bear to keep a single thought to himself.

“Yeah, yeah, you caught me.” He conceded, knowing there was no winning that fight. “If you’re free tonight, I’d love to see you. Maybe take you out for dinner or a drink, for old times sake?” He offered, holding his breath as he awaited a reply. He’d been eager to ask, but anxious about your response, spending the entire drive psyching himself up to find the courage.

You were stunned at the idea, unable to believe that his first thought was you, that he would miss out on precious time spent with his family to take you out to dinner. You wanted to go, more than anything else in the world, but you couldn’t deny the nervous energy that filled you as soon as he suggested it. So far, it had been incredibly difficult to keep your feelings to yourself as you spent countless hours on the phone with him, and you knew it would be even harder if he was right in front of you. In fact, you knew it would be impossible to think of anything other than the way you felt about him, and that made you want to decline.

Still, you were so scared of getting your heart broken that you were willing to deny yourself of the only thing you ever wanted.

As sneakily as possible, Mel reached forward and delivered a sharp smack to your leg, snapping you from your thoughts and forcing you to answer. “I, uh… I’d love to, Jake. I just gotta check and make sure there’s nothing planned, you know? I-I just want to make sure before I say yes.”

You couldn’t see her, but the eye roll Mel found herself giving was glaringly obvious to Jake, who could see her plain as day in the background.

“She’d love to go, Jake. We have absolutely nothing planned.” Mel corrected, doing her best not to deliver another hit to your leg for being so ridiculous. You bit down on your tongue, your stomach swirling with anxiety as you looked at the clock on the wall. “Right, Y/N?”

“Right.” You squeaked, knowing there was no backing out, now. “Nothing planned.” You forced a smile on your face, trying your best to stay calm. You felt like running a lap around the house, just to rid yourself of the nervous jitters that began to creep up on you. You wanted to see him so badly, but you had no idea how to keep it PG with him. How could you when he looked so fucking stunning, all of the time?

“Okay.” Jake chuckled, noticing the tension between you. “If you’ve got nothing else going on, I can pick you up at six?” He asked, making sure the time was good for you.

“Six is great.” Mel assured him. “See you soon! Can’t wait to meet you!” She sang, reaching over and hitting the end call button in a flash. As soon as the call disconnected, you whipped around to face her, a grievous look in your eye.

“Nothing planned!? Six is great?!” You shouted, furious with her for forcing your hand in the matter.

“Oh my god, Y/N! What is wrong with you?” She groaned, covering her face with her hands to hide her secondhand embarrassment. “The man of your dreams magically shows up after six years, drives to Michigan just to see you, and you have to check if you have other plans?!”

“You don’t get to decide that for me!” You exploded, sitting completely upright in your seat. “What if I’m not ready for this? How am I supposed to keep it casual when I’m still in love with the guy?!” She closed her eyes, calming herself down before she reached forward. Both of her hands landed on your shoulders, her grip firm as she literally shook you out of your own thoughts.

“Listen to me.” She urged. “Stop trying to ruin this for yourself! This is the opportunity of a lifetime, Y/N. Don’t you get that? He loves you, you love him, stop trying to run away from it!” She gave you a small shake with every word that fell from her lips. As she spoke, you managed to swallow back the ball of anxiety that was choking you, allowing you to breathe for a second.

“I’m scared, Mel. I’m terrified. Don’t you get that?” You sighed, reaching up and holding her arms to ground yourself. You closed your eyes and let your head fall towards the floor. “He was my biggest heartbreak, and my greatest love. It’s fantastic that he’s back in my life, but I’m so scared of losing him that it makes me want to tell him to leave. I don’t want to open my heart up like that again, because it nearly killed me last time.”

“Stop living in the future, and stop thinking about the past.” She said, her voice much softer as she understood your fears a little better. “Think about you, right now. Think about how happy you are when you talk to him, about how good it makes you feel. Babe, you haven’t been this happy in… well, ever. Open your heart a little bit. Let him in. You don’t have to give everything all at once, but you can’t give him nothing at all.”

“That’s the hard part. I’ve never known how to meet in the middle. I want to give him everything, all of the time.” You groaned. You let your head fall back on your shoulders, resting against the back of the chair as you bargained with her. She had good points, but she didn’t know the version of you that was in love with Jake. She didn’t know how much you would give just to make him happy, how much you would give just to love him.

“The universe gave you a chance to start over, Y/N. You have to take it.” She sighed, knowing that she was wasting her breath. “Don’t shut him out, because in six years, we’ll be sitting here doing this all over again.” You stayed silent for a moment, biting down on the inside of your lip as you contemplated everything she had to say.

Could you really force yourself away from him? Could you really walk away after spending so long eager to run back to him? Could you stomach the pain of sitting here again in the future, suffering because you let him slip through your fingers twice?

Of course you couldn’t; Jake was the whole reason your heart beat, the thing that forced you out of bed and the last thought that lulled you to sleep. He was the birds singing in the morning sky, and the stars twinkling in unison with the moonlight. He was the only thing you wanted, and he was the whole world.

You wanted to love him until you couldn’t possibly love any more, and even then you would try harder. He was worth it to you; the risk, the pain, the sadness and sacrifice was all worth a minute of his time, and a single second of his love.

“Okay.” You breathed, slapping your palms down onto your knees. “I have to take it.” You agreed, giving a curt nod of your head. You were terrified, horrified at the thought of this meaning something different to him as it did to you. You couldn’t stomach the idea of him showing up at your door and realizing that he didn’t want you like he thought he did, but you stood anyhow, glancing at the clock as you worked up the courage to take a step. “Oh, god.” You whined, feeling the pre-date panic begin to set in. “I only have an hour.”

“Let’s get to work, then.” She grinned, happy to hear you were finally on the same page. “You go shower, I’ll find you something to wear.” She said, ushering you out the door.

“Yeah, okay.” You agreed, rushing towards the hallway and into the bathroom. You shut the door behind you, your heart pounding in your chest and your mind racing. You took a long breath to calm yourself, then discarded your clothes on the floor. You flipped the shower on, stepping in as the water warmed. You washed your hair, letting the conditioner sit in while you washed the rest of your body. As you were clipping the mound of hair to the top of your head, you heard a knock at the door. Within a few moments, it was open and Mel was talking.

“Are you shaving?”

“Get out.” You laughed, finding her invasive nature comforting. She had always been the same, overbearing and a little controlling, but for the best reasons. You were grateful for her, even if she was a little much, especially in such a chaotic time. “Should I shave? Is sex implied?” You asked, beginning to panic again. “Is sex implied?” You asked again, a little more frantic.

“You should shave.” She said, simple but very clear with her intent. Your stomach twisted with another wave of nerves, but you obliged anyway.

When you were clean, she left you alone to dry yourself off. You did your skincare as fast as you could, securing the towel around your body as you walked back to your room to see what outfit she had chosen for you. She stood by the bed, hand on her hip as three outfits laid out on the mattress, awaiting your decision. You stepped forward, looking at all of them before turning your head towards her, your eyes wide and your lips turned down into a frown.

“Mel!” You scolded, noticing that all of the choices seemed to be lacking one thing; coverage. She picked the skimpiest outfits she could find, and with your eyes on the clock, you felt your anxiety begin to take over once again. “I can’t wear any of this!”

“Sure you can!” She smiled, moving to pick a dress up from the bed. She held it to her body, her eyebrows raised as she waited to hear your thoughts.

“I’m going on a date, not a frat party!” You exclaimed, stressed that she was so insistent on you wearing one of the three. The clothes looked like they walked straight out of her freshman year closet, much too wild for the woman who she was trying to force them upon.

“Ugh, fine.” She rolled her eyes, turning back to a box on the floor. “I knew you’d argue with me, so here.” She sighed, picking a dress from the top. Your shoulders relaxed as your eyes drifted over the soft, red material.

“That’s better.” You said, a wordless thank you in your tone as you grabbed it. Once you were back in the bathroom, you dropped the towel and slipped the dress over your head. You fixed the spaghetti straps and settled the slip on your legs. The flowy material was as comfortable as it was pretty, and the neckline showed just enough to catch his eye, but not enough to show off. “Much better.” You muttered to yourself, smiling at your reflection in the mirror.

“Are you decent?” Mel asked through the door, impatiently waiting in the hall.

“Yes.” You rolled your eyes, twisting the knob and opening the door to let her inside.

“That looks really good on you.” She complimented, straightening the back of the skirt as she set your makeup bags on the counter. Under her arm was a curling iron, a blow dryer and a box of rollers.

“Thanks.” You hummed, drumming your fingers against the countertop. The surplus of energy coursing through you was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, and you could barely hold yourself still.

“Hey,” she spoke softly, catching your attention as she unraveled the cord for the blow dryer. “Relax. It’s gonna be fine.” She assured you, plugging the cord into the wall.

“You’re right.” You breathed, pulling the towel from your head. “It’s just been so long since I’ve seen him. I’m really nervous.”

“Really? Couldn’t tell.” She chuckled, bringing the blow dryer to your hair as she combed through it. It didn’t take long for the strands to dry and she was plugging the curling iron in to warm. While you waited, you started on your makeup, checking the time to make sure you weren’t running late.

You took a break from makeup while she curled the ends of your hair, twisting the locks around the rollers and pinning them to your head to set. She finished with the hair framing your face, and you continued to paint your face in the mirror. When you swiped on a layer of lip gloss, you leaned in to get a closer look, fixing any imperfections as you studied your reflection.

“You look beautiful.” She said, easing your worries. As she pulled the rollers from your hair, she gave a small spray of hairspray to each one, then combed it all out for you. “And just on time.” She said, tapping your phone screen to check the clock.

“Thank you for your help. I’m sorry I got so… worked up.” You murmured, guilty over your harsh words and stubborn attitude.

“No need to apologize. I know you, babe. I know what I signed up for.” She giggled, fluffing your hair ever so slightly. She pulled a few curls over your shoulder, then nudged you towards the door. “He should be here any minute.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Always am.” She grinned, pulling the door open and allowing you to step out first.

You stopped by your bedroom, grabbing your purse and clasping a gold chain around your neck. You rummaged around an old jewelry box, finding some gold hoops to go with it, and sprayed on some perfume. When you felt certain you were ready, you made your way towards the stairs. Before your foot even hit the top step, you heard the doorbell chime, and your stomach plummeted. Mel was behind you, close enough to ensure you would turn and hide. You swallowed hard, slowly making your way down the steps. Your palms were clammy and your chest was tight, but you couldn’t ignore the excitement blossoming deep in your heart.

Your mom had rushed to the door, uncertain of who could be visiting so late in the evening. You felt bad, realizing you should have told her long before that moment. As your feet hit the linoleum of the kitchen floor, you heard a loud noise, your mothers excitement almost too much for her to handle. “Jacob Kiszka, look at you!” She fawned over the man that stood before her, her voice echoing through the entire house. Your steps became slower, shorter as you grew closer to the entryway. Mel was behind you, encouraging you to keep moving forward despite your mind begging you to run away. “Gosh, you’re all grown up now. Another one of my babies.” You could hear her tone become muffled, likely because he’d pulled her into a hug, because he’d always been so loving to her, too.

“You ready?” Mel whispered, her chin practically resting on your shoulder.

“Not at all.” You shook your head, more anxious than you’d ever been.

“Y/N! Come look who’s here!” Your mom shouted into the hallway, not realizing you were standing a few feet away from her. With one last breath of courage, you rounded the corner and stepped into view.

Jake’s POV

As she appeared in front of you, you were certain the world stopped turning. There seemed to be a golden glow surrounding her, radiating from her as she stepped towards you; sunshine, but even brighter and more beautiful than the burnt up old star in the sky. A long forgotten warmth washed over you, comforting and loving, just like it felt to be in her company when you were eighteen. She was different, her face reflecting the time that had passed but leaving her even more beautiful than she was before. The smile on her lips nearly sent you to your knees before her, begging for just one more chance to show her how much she meant to you, but you kept your composure as you studied her.

There were freckles splattered across the bridge of her nose, the ones that splayed into perfect little constellations you once considered yourself an expert on. They only came out in the summertime, when her days were spent outside and under the sun that could only envy her and the light she provided. The dress she was wearing stopped mid thigh, showing off the knees that were still littered with scars from years spent riding bikes and tripping over shoelaces. Her hair was much longer, like she hadn’t cut it at all since you last saw her, and it too was graced by the sun and lighter than it was in the winter months.

The crinkles by her eyes when she smiled, so similar to how they were when you were in high school, but just a little more pronounced. Age had been kind to her, and you were certain that as the years continued to pass, she would only ever grow more beautiful.

You were nervous, your entire day leaving you near insanity as you planned and perfected the evening, and insanity creeping closer as you called to ask her to join you for the night. You knew her hesitation was likely due to the same reasons as your own, but you couldn’t help the stab in your chest you felt when Mel answered for her. Now, seeing her all dolled up and sheepish as she stood before you, her hands linked together in front of her as she shied away from eye contact, you knew she wanted to see you as bad as you wanted to see her.

After six years spent wandering, aimless and hopeful for something to change, it finally did. The struggle, the fear and the hurt all made sense, because she was standing in front of you again.

She was still yours, just like you were still very much hers.

Her POV

As your eyes connected with his own, you nearly fell to your knees in grief. In a single second, you found yourself mourning the boy you used to love and falling desperately for the man who stood in his place. His hair was even longer than it seemed in the video calls, framing the perfect picture of his face. It was pushed back slightly by the sunglasses sat atop his head, keeping the strands from his eyes. His eyes, brown and beautiful, giving you that long awaited relief from your everlasting sense of homesickness.

He was wearing a tan button up shirt, only the last three buttons secure. Over top was a white, weathered blazer, loose on him and the sleeves cuffed once off his wrists. His pants matched the color of the blazer, the button up tucked in messily and the peek of a brown leather belt showing. There was a pendant around his neck, drawing your attention to his chest that was exposed through the peek of his shirt. There was a watch around his wrist, and a ring on his middle finger.

He was positively beautiful, and you couldn’t manage to take your eyes off of him.

“Oh my god.” Mel whispered, just quiet enough for you to hear. She was thinking all the same things, and you couldn’t blame her a bit. He was gorgeous, and you were doing everything in your power not to run straight into his arms.

The only thing that made the scene better was the fact his eyes were raking over you, admiring you with the same intensity.

“Long time no see, sunshine.” He rasped, unable to tear his gaze away from you. You took a step towards him, your previous fears and worries fleeing you in an instant. Like all of those years ago, there was this irresistible pull towards him, like the universe was forcing the two of you together.

“Jake, you look…” you trailed off, your voice quiet as you approached him. “So different.” You chose your words carefully, not wanting to come on too strong.

“In a good way, I hope.” He grinned, stepping forward out of the doorway. You were close enough that you could smell his cologne, the sandalwood and amber taking over your senses and wrapping you in a familiar comfort. It was almost the same, but a little more expensive and much more tempting.

“Are you kidding?” You giggled, watching as he extended his arm and invited you in for a hug. You finally surpassed the small boundary still existing between you and fell into his arms. Your own wrapped around his torso, your chest landing against his and your head naturally falling to his shoulder. One of his strong arms snaked around your waist, his opposite hand cupping the back of your head as he held you to him.

After six years of suffering, the world finally felt right.

“You look absolutely breathtaking, sweetheart. Just like always.” He whispered, just loud enough to reach your ears. His chest rattled against your own as his words vibrated through him, only drawing you further into his touch. Despite your mother and your best friend watching the long and drawn out reunion, you never wanted him to let go. Eventually, he pulled back ever so slightly, looking down over your face but not easing his grip on you. “You always knew how to leave me speechless.”

“Don’t sound very speechless to me.” You giggled, finding the comfortability between you the same as it was so long ago.

“God,” he sighed, taking your face in his hands. His hold was gentle, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as he took in the sight of your face. It had been so long since he had you so close, and he wasn’t sure if he could ever let it go again. “It’s so good to see you, sunshine.” Your hands rested on his sides, the material of his shirt felt nice in your hands as you held him close.

“You too, bug.” You smiled, your cheeks rosy and your head swirling with excitement. “I like the mustache.” You fought the urge to reach up and touch it, knowing you would be opening a door you’d never be able to close.

“Yeah?” He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with love, just like they did when you were kids.

“Definitely. You should keep it.” You whispered, finding yourself caught in a staring contest. Neither of you seemed keen on pulling away, nor did you seem to want to stop the pull of gravity forcing you together.

“If you say so.” He chuckled, knowing now that you said that, he’d never want to shave it off.

“Let me introduce you to Mel, then we can get going.” You breathed, your stomach sick at the thought of pulling away from him. His hand drifted down your cheek, his calloused fingertips tickling your neck as he made sure to admire every inch of you. He didn’t want to separate either, but he knew he had a whole night of having you to himself.

“Yeah, f’course.” He nodded, letting his hand ghost over your shoulder and down your arm. The light touch sent a shiver down your spine, your skin littered with goosebumps and the hair on the back of your neck standing straight. You couldn’t believe he still had such an effect on you.

You took a step back, noticing his fingers trail all the way down your forearm and lightly dust your own. You had to fight every urge not to interlock your fingers with his, trying to push the thought from your head as you turned to face Mel.

“This is Jake.” You said, sending her a nervous smile.

“Nice to finally meet you, Jacob. I’m Mel.” She stepped forward, extending her hand for him to shake. “I’ve heard lots about you.”

“Good things, I hope.” He gave a nervous chuckle, accepting her gesture. “I’ve heard lots about you, too.”

“All bad things, I assume.” At that, the two shared a laugh, the nerves of the first meeting wearing off immediately. You couldn’t help but feel your heart warm at the sight of them laughing together, your two favorite people in the whole world.

“Thanks for letting me steal her from you tonight.” He smiled, feeling a need to express his gratitude.

“Take care of her, okay?” She asked, sending a soft smile your way. “Not much we don’t do together, so someone has to keep her out of trouble.”

“You have my word.” He promised, knowing he would always do everything he could to keep you safe. He turned to you, eager to get you alone so he could finally catch up with you properly.

“You ready to head out?” You asked, catching his eye.

“Yeah,” he nodded, but seemed slightly hesitant on the idea. You cocked your head to the side, curious about his reaction. “I just… before we do, can I meet your cat?” He asked, almost embarrassed by the question. You swallowed hard, your heart drumming in your chest as you tried not to melt into a puddle of emotion before his very eyes.

“Let me get him.” Mel grinned, stepping back into the kitchen and grabbing a bag of treats from the counter. She gave it a shake, the familiar sound filling the stale air. When it was met with silence, she gave it another shake, louder and slightly more aggressive. Within a few seconds, the jingle of a bell could be heard, and Ozz came bounding down the stairs, enticed by the idea of getting something to eat.

Once he was within range, Mel reached down and scooped him up in her arms. He let out a meow of protest, but snuggled into her hold despite his feelings on the matter. She rejoined the group, offering Jake the bag of treats as she held the little black cat to her chest.

“Me?” He asked, taking them from her and looking at the bag in surprise.

“What better way to make a first impression?” You giggled, watching as he opened the ziplock bag and poured a few out in his hand. Ozz’s ears perked up, his head turning towards Jake as he realized what was happening. Jake stepped forward, offering the treats straight from his hand. Ozz leaned forward, giving a hesitant sniff as he tried to decide if Jake was a threat, but eventually fell to the temptation of food.

You couldn’t help but admire the sweetness of the moment, noticing the childlike glee in Jake’s eyes as he tried to make a bond with the pet you dreamed of having since you were young. When the treats were gone, he reached up and scratched behind his ear. Ozz’s eyes closed and you could hear him purring even from a distance. Jake was precious, in every moment of every day, and you couldn’t deny the tugging of your heartstrings as you watched the scene unfold.

“I think he likes you.” You stated, your arms crossed over your chest as a smile pulled at your lips.

“He passed the test.” Mel agreed, looking between the two of you. Eventually, her eyes settled on Jake and she stepped closer, offering her arms out to him. “You want to hold him.”

“W-what?” Jake asked, almost nervous at the thought. “I mean, yeah. S’long as he’s okay with it.”

“Trust me, he’ll be fine with it.” You chuckled, watching as Jake slowly took the cat from her arms. With little problem, Ozz seemed to settle comfortably, looking up in curiosity at the unfamiliar, long-haired man. “Told you.” You said, watching as Ozz leaned closer to his face, nuzzling his head into his cheek.

“You used to talk about getting a cat all of the time.” Jake said, content with the curious cat in his arms as he looked over at you. “I’m so glad you finally did.”

“I did talk about it a lot, didn’t I?” You blushed slightly, surprised he remembered so well.

“All of the time.” He stressed his point, grinning at the memory. “He’s a sweet little thing.” Jake commented, his eyes flickering away from you for a moment. “Just like his mother.” He muttered the second part, just under his breath. You swallowed hard, your heart racing at the sound of his words. The whole thing was nearly overwhelming for you, the picture of the two too much to handle.

“Mind if I get a picture?” You asked, pulling your phone from your purse. You looked to him for approval, knowing that you wanted to remember the moment forever.

“You don’t have to ask.” He rolled his eyes, playful as you aimed your camera at him. You snapped a few pictures, your stomach twisting with an unfamiliar feeling as you selected all of them to add to an album. You scrolled all the way to the end of the page, your eyes landing on an empty album with the same name as it had all those years ago. You could handle deleting the pictures, but not the chapter in its entirety.

A small smile crossed your lips as your phone confirmed the addition to the album, the words flashing across your screen and causing your heart to beat just a little harder.

Three photos added to album: mi amor ❤️

Oh, how good it felt for there to be pictures filling it once again.

“Alright, you ready?” You giggled, watching as the curious little creature raised his head towards Jake’s, sniffing intently as he tried to familiarize himself with him.

“Yeah, let’s go.” He laughed, but didn’t seem keen on parting with Ozz. You stepped forward, catching the cat’s attention by placing a soft hand on his back. He let out a ‘mmrph’, turning to look at you and giving a slow blink. You leaned in closer, nudging the top of his head with your nose as you held yourself back from kissing him. As you found yourself immersed in the moment, you barely noticed Mel behind you, snapping a photo of the three of you together.

Carefully, you took the cat from his arms and placed him down on the floor. Then, you handed the bag of treats back to Mel. You slipped on a pair of heels you’d worn when you went to the bar a few days ago, deciding they were good enough for the occasion. Jake gave you a soft smile, his hand ghosting over your lower back as you raised your leg to tighten the strap around your heel. He was barely touching you, but your stomach was filled with butterflies, perhaps more so because of his undying need to keep you safe.

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” You turned to look at your best friend, who had a knowing look in her eye. She wouldn’t be seeing you until long after the sun rose in the sky tomorrow, but she kept that thought to herself.

“See you soon.” She replied, her eyes flickering to Jake. “Nice to meet you, finally.” She extended the sentiment towards him and he reiterated it to her. With a gentle hand, he guided you towards the door, patiently waiting as your mom pulled you into a hug.

She placed a small kiss on your cheek, holding you there for a moment to fully express her happiness for you. “Have fun, lovebug. Be safe.”

“I will, I promise.” You whispered, holding her just a little tighter. Your mom had been there for everything, celebrating every happy day and holding you for the worst of them. Still, despite seeing so many tears fall for the boy who now stood behind you, a mother’s instinct always told her that the story wasn’t over for the two of you. Seeing you back together, no matter how innocent the situation was, made the world seem right again. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she stressed, fixing the chain around your neck. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.” She hummed, just loud enough for you to hear. With that, you stepped towards the door, watching as she pulled Jake into another hug. “Always good to see you, Jacob. Try not to wait so long before your next visit, alright?”

“Of course.” He promised, sending her a smile. With that, he turned to you, and you continued on your way.

When the door shut behind him, you finally felt reality begin to catch up and the nervousness return. You dreamed of this moment for so long, and now that it was finally happening, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. He walked up beside you, looking to his side so he could catch sight of your face again. When you noticed his eyes on you, you felt your cheeks heat and your palms turn clammy. He was the same person you loved so dearly, but he was so different. You had no idea where to start, what to ask to get to know him again, and you were panicking at the silence between you. You wondered what he was thinking, if he was just as nervous as you were, or if he was as cool and collected as he was when you were kids, when nothing seemed to phase him.

“You hungry?” He finally asked, starting easy as he opened the passenger side door for you.

“Yeah, are you?” You asked, relieved that he didn’t mind taking the initiative.

“Starving.” He replied, a far away look in his eyes and he tucked your dress under your leg, not wanting it to catch in the door as he shut it. When he closed it and began walking around to the drivers side, you took a second to ponder what exactly he meant by that. His response was fitting for the conversation, but the expression on his face was something you had seen a hundred times, and you were certain it had little to do with the desire for dinner.

You swallowed hard as he climbed into the vehicle with you, starting it and turning down the radio. Before he backed out of the driveway, he took a moment to admire you.

“You look beautiful, sunshine.” He said again, making sure you knew he meant it. A small smile crossed your lips, and your stomach twisted with nerves as his hand raised to the headrest of your seat. He planted his palm firmly on the back of it, looking over his shoulder as he reversed out onto the street. The smell of his cologne hit you with full force, stronger now that you were contained in the small space. You held yourself in place, trying to ignore the urge to lean into his open arm.

It was so easy to fall back into the old routine, like no time had passed at all.

“You look pretty good yourself.” You said, shyly as you let your eyes take in the entire picture of him. “Europe treated you well.” He chuckled at your words, a little bashful himself over your comment. There was so much truth to the fact, his normally tanned skin even more sunkissed and all the more alluring. He was glowing, his hair lighter than usual and his face soft and smooth. He looked expensive, iridescent as the evening sunlight pooled in through the windshield, like he omitted his own, irresistible aura.

“Guess it did,” he shrugged, trying to play it off as if it were nothing. “Lots of sights to see, lots of days spent in the sun, and wine better than you could ever imagine.”

“Don’t make me jealous, now.” You grinned, relaxing into your seat a little more as the conversation flowed easily.

“No need to be jealous, sweetheart. I’ll take you someday, you can see it for yourself.” You couldn’t help but feel your heart beat faster at the idea, wondering if he truly meant it or if it was just because he was trying to be nice.

“Big plans, I see.” You grinned, finding yourself unable to take your eyes off of him.

“Always, sunshine.” He hummed, nodding ever so slightly as he drove through the old suburbs. “If you want to, of course.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed.” You replied, swallowing hard at the sight of one of his hands wrapped firmly around the steering wheel. His other arm rested against the door, his hand slightly hanging out the window rolled all the way down. The warm air filled the car, the chill of the AC hitting your exposed legs at the same time, sending you back to a time you remember fondly.

You wondered if he missed the Michigan summers as much as you did, the sticky air sweet and your days spent by the lake trying to combat the heat. You wondered if he remembered all the nights spent on your rooftop, overlooking the neighborhood as the smell of smoke clung to his clothes and the taste of sweet strawberry wine lingered on your lips. A cigarette between his fingers and his arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer as you stared up at the twinkling stars, the grasshoppers bountiful and the owls hooting in the distance.

You wanted to ask, but you couldn’t bear the thought of him not adoring the memories as much as you did. Worse than that, you couldn’t imagine the time being lost on him, shoved so deep down and buried underneath the surplus of memories he’d created after you left.

“Any restaurant in mind, or do you trust me?” He asked, his eyes flickering over to you.

“I trust you.” You assured him, knowing that if trust was a problem, it was never with him.

“Good, ‘cause I already called and ordered for us. That would’ve been awkward.”

He ordered something for you? He was that confident that after six years, he still knew what you would want to eat?

“Planning ahead?” You teased, crossing your hands neatly in your lap so you didn’t reach out to grab his own.

“Yeah, sorry.” He chuckled. “I was excited, I get ahead of myself sometimes.”

“That’s okay.” You promised, the sentiment behind his actions warning your chest. “What did you get?” You asked, unable to curb your curiosity. He shifted in his seat, clearly affected by your question and conflicted as he tried to keep the surprise.

“You’ll… have to wait and see.” He forced out, his lips curling into a smile.

“Oh, come on, Jake.” You pressed further, knowing it wouldn’t take much to get him to crack. “Not even a hint?”

“Don’t do that to me, sunshine.” He warned, nearly squirming under the pressure. You bit down on the inside of your lip, happy to see that some things were still the same. Jake’s ability to keep secrets had always been a struggle for him, and you knew that no amount of time could rid him of that.

“Please?” You smirked, pouting your bottom lip ever so slightly. You watched him look at you through the corner of his eye, his sunglasses not able to cover the stress quickly filling his features.

“Fuck,” he huffed, trying to focus on the road. “You’re killing me, sweetheart.”

“Just tell me, bug. You know you want to.” You continued your torment, almost letting yourself reach out and place a hand on his knee. As soon as you realized what you were doing, you clasped your hands tighter together, not wanting to read too far into a story you weren’t sure was beginning.

“Chinese, from that little place we used to go to when we were kids.” He rushed the words, like he’d hit a wall and collapsed from the impact. At the sound of it, your eyes lit up and a blinding smile crossed your lips.

He remembered.

“We went on our first date there!” You exclaimed, twisting in your seat to get a better look at him. “In the tenth grade, your parents sat a few tables over from us.”

“Yeah,” he beamed, almost relieved that you recalled the date with such clarity, and even more so that you didn’t think it was weird. “Dad gave me his card to pay, so I could impress you.”

“I guess it worked out, didn’t it?” You replied, your cheeks pink as you remembered how excited you were. It was almost the same as you were feeling at that moment, on your way to your second first date.

Date.

Was this a date? Or was this just old friends catching up?

You were confused and conflicted, and a part of you wanted to believe the night had innocent intentions. Still, there was a larger, more complex part of yourself that desperately wanted it to be a date, and for him to say it was. Instead of asking, you pushed the thought away, knowing you would find out in due time.

“It did. For a while, at least.” He chuckled, unable to hide the flash of pain in his eyes as he said it. “This time, we aren’t eating in. I have other plans for tonight.”

“Oh?” You asked, understanding he’d been planning this out much more than you thought he was.

“Please, let me keep it a secret, sunshine. Promise it’ll be worth it, okay?” He said, looking over at you now. Your lips pulled into a tight smile as you debated his words, knowing it would be more fun to push him.

“Promise?” You reiterated, making him sweat a little bit.

“Pinky promise, sunshine.” He said, grasping the wheel tightly in one hand as he reached his other out to you, his pinky extended towards you. You reached up, interlocking your finger with his.

“Alright, bug.” You conceded, trying to ignore the shock of electricity running through you from the simple touch.

“Thank you.” He gave a sigh of relief, looking back to the road but making no move to pull his hand away. Your eyes drifted down to the point of connection between your hands, wondering why he was letting it linger for so long. His eyes flickered to meet yours, a silent question of your comfortability with his actions.

He wanted it too.

Wordlessly, you outstretched your hand, your fingertips tickling his palm as you laced the appendages between his own. You never let your eyes leave him as you did so, continuing on high alert until his hand was comfortably held in your own and his thumb was drifting across your knuckles. You ignored the small smile tugging on his lips, because you knew if you called him out on it, you would be a hypocrite. He lowered his arm, letting your intertwined hands rest on your thigh, testing the waters before making any further moves. When you didn’t say a word in protest, both of you relaxed into the position without any more worries.

“Tell me about Mel.” He said, finally gaining the courage to speak again.

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, everything.” He chuckled. “She’s your person, now. I used to be your person, so I guess I want to know if she’s taking care of you, like I would.” He shrugged, never once glancing in your direction. You were happy for that, because you couldn’t stand for him to see the pain on your face that stemmed from his words.

“Jake,” you whispered, giving your head a slight shake. “You… you still are. Even if it’s not the same, you’ll always be my person.” You explained, appalled that he believed that he didn’t mean anything to you anymore. “One of them, at least. Back then, I only ever had you and Josh, but I have a few more now, I guess. You’re still one of them. You never stopped being one of them.” You swore that you heard his breath catch in his throat, that his emotional response was so great that it bled into a physical one, but you didn’t linger on it for long. The whole situation was strange, but you didn’t want to get your hopes too high, just in case it turned out to be different than what you wanted.

“You never stopped being mine, either.” He said, his hand squeezing yours ever so gently. You tried not to focus on the feeling, still stuck in a constant state of self-doubt, but it felt nice to be loved by him, even if it was different than it used to be. “Tell me about her, sunshine.” He urged, noticing a silence growing between you again. In truth, he didn’t care if that’s what it was about; he just wanted to hear the sound of your voice.

“Uh, we met in freshman year. We sat beside each other in our first lit class. Took us a few days to speak to each other, but once we did, we never really stopped.” You started, recounting the memory fondly. “When I first moved away, I had a really hard time adjusting. The people there were… different.” You put it lightly, ignoring the real reason you had trouble adjusting. It had nothing to do with the type of people there, but because none of them were him. “They were expensive looking, preppy and kind of annoying. They were very judgemental, ‘specially the girls, and I didn’t really feel like I fit in. It was a lot different than home, and it took me a while to get used to it.”

You could almost hear his heart break as you spoke, like he was grieving for that version of you. More than that, he was angry with himself for not being persistent, for not being the person you needed at that point in your life.

“I noticed Mel was different. The way she held herself… she was relaxed, carefree all of the time. She reminded me of home, and she felt like someone I could trust, or at least talk to without feeling stupid about it. I made a joke about our professor, and we just clicked. We did everything together after that—partnered for every project, went to parties, to run errands…” you trailed off, watching out the windshield as the city passed you by. “She felt like home, and I guess I missed it more than I thought I would. She reminded me of you.” You added the last part, quieter than the rest in fear of overwhelming him. You watched as a smile turned his lips, understanding that with Jake, you didn’t have to worry about a thing.

“I’m glad you found her. She seems very…” he trailed off, trying to find the right word. “Eccentric.” He placed it, figuring that was the best way to describe her.

“She is.” You laughed, nodding your head in agreement. “She’s different from anyone else I’ve ever met. She’s got this way about her that just draws me in, like she always balances me out and makes up for what I lack. We have lots in common where it matters, but it’s nice to have someone that challenges me. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” You shrugged, realizing you were rambling more than you should.

“I’m excited to get to know her better. If you love her so much, she must be pretty great.” He said, nonchalantly like his statement wasn’t dripping with hidden meaning.

He wanted to get to know her better because he wanted to stick around. He wanted to stay, to continue whatever the two of you were doing and rebuild a relationship between the two of you. He wanted to know her, because she was the closest thing to you.

He wanted you.

You didn’t have time to focus on the unspoken things for much longer, because he was pulling into the hidden parking lot of the restaurant you frequented so often when you were younger. He glanced over at you, then down at your hand intertwined with his, almost sorrowful that he had to let go.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” He said, unbuckling his seatbelt before he pulled his hand from your lap. You gave a slight nod, immediately noticing the warmth flee you as his fingers slipped away from your own. You didn’t have a chance to offer your company before he stepped out of the car, and he disappeared into the side door of the building before you realized it.

You looked down at your palm, still warm from where his own rested just seconds earlier. His cologne lingered in the air of the car, and your stomach was twisted with anxiety. You had no idea what he was planning, but you were excited to see where the night left you. It had been so long since you had been on a date, let alone with someone who so deeply affected you, and you had almost forgotten how to act.

No, you hadn’t forgotten how to act; you were just in your own head, doubting that the evening he had planned was a date at all.

That was your first course of action, to ask if the night had the same implications for him as it did for you. If you didn’t, you might end up on your front doorstep, grieving a loss he never knew he caused. You were terrified to ask, embarrassed at the idea of it not meaning the same to him, but you needed to know.

You spent your few minutes of alone time psyching yourself up for the big question, finding courage you didn’t know you had. By the time he stepped out of the building, the brown bag of takeout held tightly in his hands, you had enough strength to whisper the words aloud. When he placed the food in the backseat, you were repeating it in your head to keep the momentum. When he slid back in the driver's seat, his head turned to look at you and a sweet little smile on his lips, any amount of strength you conjured disappeared in an instant, leaving your tongue tied and your throat dry.

“What’s wrong, sunshine?” He asked, able to read you like a book even now. You swallowed hard, your heart threatening to burst out of your chest as you tried to remember how to phrase the words you wanted to ask him. He raised an eyebrow at your silence, still awaiting an answer you weren’t sure how to give. Eventually, you took a deep breath, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment to straighten your thoughts. You found that looking at him only made it harder to focus, and without his eyes burning holes into you, you were able to find the courage again.

“Is this… are we on a date?” You blurted out, heaving a small sigh of relief as the words finally passed through your lips. Anxiety continued to eat away at you as you opened your eyes, catching sight of his expression. His eyebrows were knitted together, but the smile on his lips remained. He was so hard to read, which only frustrated you further knowing that he knew how you were feeling all of the time.

“That depends… Do you want to be on a date?”

“Do you?” You asked, shifting in your seat as you averted your gaze away from his face. He laughed at your response, clearly amused by your distress and unbothered by the inquiry.

“I do, yes.” He nodded, knowing you would never confess unless he did, first. “But if you don’t, that’s okay too. We can just eat dinner and have a drink as friends.” His sweetness was overwhelming, and unbelievably reassuring. You let out a long breath, relieved at the sound of his words and happy he felt the same.

“Okay.” You grinned, reaching over and lacing your fingers through his again. As you pulled his hand back to rest in your lap, the anxiety disappeared indefinitely. “I would also like to be on a date.”

“Then it’s settled.” He hummed, leaning back in his seat and starting the car. You could tell that the agreement improved his mood greatly—the slight nervousness in his features settled and the smile on his lips was permanently visible. The momentary euphoria left him confident, and his fingers slipped from yours once more, settling on your thigh just below the hem of your dress. Your stomach twisted in a knot, this time not due to your anxieties, but from excitement. The touch was familiar, comforting, the hold the same as it was when you were seventeen and driving around in his dads old car. You placed your hand atop of his, showing your enthusiasm for the new position.

“Seems like it.” You agreed, fighting a smile begging to blossom on your own lips.

“Good thing, because I’d probably have a hard time keeping my hands off you.” He confessed, his grasp tightening ever so slightly as he reveled in the feeling of your skin on his again.

“Is that so?” You teased, encouraging his behavior in an attempt to hear more about it.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling out of the parking spot and back out onto the street. “You really think I could behave myself all night? This close to my favorite girl?” His words hit you hard, turning your cheeks crimson and sending your heart racing.

“Don’t flatter me, Jacob.” You spoke softly, downplaying his words but desperately hoping that he would continue.

“But it’s my favorite thing to do.” He reminded you, tracing small circles into your leg with his thumb. You settled comfortably in your seat, but not for long before the car was slowing to a stop again, pulling off into another overly familiar area. The dirt lot was barren, the two of you the only occupants of the large space. Jake pulled off to the side, earning a sideways glance from you.

“Jake…” you began, overwhelmed with years worth of love as the memories flooded your mind.

“What?” He grinned, turning in his seat to face you.

“This is the spot!” You exclaimed, not wanting to be the one to say it out loud.

“Hmm, I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to…” he trailed off, raising his free hand to his chin as he pretended to ponder the words. “I thought it was just a nice place to have dinner. What happened here, again?” You reached over, giving him a playful shove. He laughed, loud and booming, filling your heart with enough love you thought it might burst.

You used to dream of hearing him laugh like that, together at your spot. You yearned for it, for even just a single second spent here with him, and now you had it in your grasp.

“Don’t be a dick.” You giggled, knowing he was only joking for the sake of bothering you.

“You know I could never forget our spot, sweetheart.” He said, giving your thigh a reassuring squeeze. “Well, one of them, anyway.”

“But this was the spot.” You smiled, feeling yourself leaning into him without even realizing it. “This is where you asked me to be your girlfriend.”

“It is.” He nodded, fighting every urge to lean forward and kiss you right there. He was overtaken with emotion, as joyous as he was when he was fifteen and walking through the park with you for the first time. He picked a flower from the beds the city maintained, making a whole ordeal out of asking you the question he already knew the answer to. He could never forget it, because it was one of his most cherished moments, and now, almost a decade later, he got to relive that elation all over again. “Come with me, sunshine.”

Together, the two of you stepped outside into the warm evening air. The sun was still shining, setting a golden hue over the lush green grass and the overgrown trees. The park was different than it was when you were younger, more grown and less tended to than it used to be. When new parks opened, this one became forgotten in the mess of excitement that sprouted from the city's changes. To you, it could never be forgotten. You’d choose the rusted swing sets and the weathered park benches and picnic tables every day for the rest of your life because that was where you felt closest to him.

Jake retrieved the takeout from the backseat, then an additional grocery bag filled with items he had not shared with you yet. He joined you by your side, fighting off your attempts at grabbing something from his hands. Wordlessly, he led you to the narrow path through the trees, but he knew you did not need his guidance. Both of you could navigate the trails through the park blindfolded with your hands tied behind your back, because most of your nights were spent aimlessly wandering, hand in hand with each other.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to reach the opening to the park, the tiny trail tapering off into an overgrown field. The grass was overgrown, tickling your ankles as you advanced through it. Birds were chirping, making home in the tree branches and concealed by the leaves. Butterflies fluttered around the scene, carefree and avoidant of the two of you. Jake let you lead the way, staying close behind you as you gravitated towards the picnic table that called your name. You looked back over your shoulder, smiling at him as you closed in on it and realized it had never been replaced.

“Still there?” He asked as he approached, closing the small gap between you.

“Still there.” You nodded, looking down at the old wooden board. You tried to ignore the feeling of his body so close to yours, the warmth radiating from him as he stood behind you, and the scent of his cologne surrounding you even in the gentle breeze, but it was proving difficult the longer you stood together. You reached out, your fingers tracing the divots in the wood grain. From the years of weather and use, the carving almost seemed like it belonged, now. The rough edges had smoothed, and the color changed to match the rest.

Your initials, side by side and destined to tie the two of you there for eternity. He had carved it with an old pocket knife the night he asked you to be his girlfriend, informing you that so long as the picture remained, so would his love for you.

“Still true?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper, cracking with emotion as you doubted he would even remember the insignificance of the promise. His head turned down to you, his eyes scanning your face for a moment before he responded. The air between you was thick, just like the tension that accompanied it.

“Still true.” He assured you, like there was never a doubt in his mind about it. You turned your head to the side, swallowing hard at the confession and the close proximity of his face to yours. The wind was blowing his hair away from his face, his dark eyelashes tickling his cheeks as he looked down at you. You looked up at him through your own lashes, admiring the intricacies of his face that you could not notice from far away, intricacies that only you would care to look for. His nose was nearly brushing yours, his breath warm on your skin. He was so close, and you wanted it so bad, but you were scared to make the first move. “Always true.”

For a moment, the world stopped turning. No more butterflies, no more chirps from the birds, no more gusts of wind blowing you around; just the two of you there, together in perfect harmony, enjoying each other’s presence after being separated for so long.

“For me, too.” You whispered, needing him to know that the love was not one sided. Although you did not have the strength to speak the words, he knew what you meant, and that was all that mattered.

Instead of leaning forward and closing the gap between your mouths, he sat the bags atop the rickety wooden table. He didn’t move too far away, but he did send you a small smile, like a promise that something better was to come. You couldn’t help but feel a sinking disappointment as he moved away, but you pushed it aside and forced a smile to match his.

“Now, let’s see how well I remember.” He hummed, motioning for you to sit. You did as you were told, sliding onto the bench and smoothing your dress under your legs. You crossed your ankles, propping your chin up on your palm as you waited to see what he pulled together. “For dinner, shrimp lo mein and spring rolls.” He raised an eyebrow, tearing into the takeout bag and offering you the container.

“How the hell did you remember that?” You grinned, taking it from his hands and placing it in front of you. He gave a shrug of his shoulders, placing his own in front of him after he handed you the wooden chopsticks.

“You ordered it every time we went there, sunshine. Wasn’t like it was hard.” He chuckled. “And the chopsticks, because you insist on using them even though you suck at it.”

“I do not suck at it!” You argued, your cheeks burning red as he fought back a chuckle.

“Right,” he hummed, tossing you a disposable fork wrapped in plastic. “Just in case.” You rolled your eyes, but snatched it from the table anyway. You’d never admit it, but he was right. Even if your skills improved over the years, you were far from good at it.

“Care to keep going, or are you going to make fun of me all night?” You bit down on your lip to suppress the smile that was begging to show.

“Right, sorry.” He nodded, grinning over at you. He reached into the second bag, slowly pulling out a bottle that you couldn’t see the label on. As soon as he flashed it in your direction, your eyes widened and a blinding smile took hold.

“Strawberry wine.” You whispered, your gaze flickering to his face. “My favorite.”

He would never say, but it was his too, not because he liked drinking it, but because he could still remember the taste of it on your lips.

“Some things never change.” He offered you the bottle. You reached out, your eyes drifting over the label as you tried to suppress the growing feelings in your heart. “Figured you deserved a nice bottle, not the cheap shit we used to get.”

“Thank you, Jake.” You breathed, your chest aching from the surplus of love you felt for him.

“That’s not all.” He said as if it were some grandois display, reaching his hand back into the bag. When he withdrew his arm, he held two more items in his hand; a ziplock bag and a small, cardboard box wrapped in plastic.

“Oh my god.” You gasped, reaching out across the picnic table to snatch the bag from his hand. As if he knew it before you even moved, he withdrew his arm with a smirk on his face.

“Impatient, much?” He teased, holding it just out of reach.

“If that’s what I think it is, then I most definitely am.” You nodded, leaning forward and a little further. As you did so, your fingers grasped the corner of the plastic, but he tugged it away before you could steal it. You couldn’t help it, your old habits and comfortability had returned full force in his company. Your bottom lip formed a pout as you silently pleaded with him to hand over the item he was keeping away from you. As he watched your face, his expression was almost pained as he refrained from handing it over, but within a few seconds, he broke.

“God, you know that’s not fair!” He exclaimed, giving in and letting you grab the bag from his hand.

“I think it’s perfectly fine.” You snipped, a triumphant smile crossing your lips as you sat back in your seat. “I haven’t had your mom’s muffins since senior year, Jacob.” You continued, holding the bag close to you as if it were a prized possession.

“I know, that’s why I got her to make them.” He laughed, taking the loss and moving on from it as soon as he saw the elation on your face. You paused, momentarily forgetting your excitement as you digested his statement.

“You got her to make these just for me?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. He caught your eyes, his cheeks pink in the sunlight as he realized he exposed himself without a second thought.

“Y-yeah,” he nodded, clearing his throat as he tried to regain his confidence. “Yeah, I did. I knew they were your favorite, so I asked her.” He shrugged, trying to make it seem lesser than it truly was. “She didn’t mind. She’d do anything for you, sunshine.”

“Jake.” You whined, your eyes brimming with tears at the thought of him and his family still caring so much. You were overwhelmed with love, never having someone care so deeply and genuinely for you since the last time you saw him. As the evening carried on, it became abundantly clear that you had given up everything, and in that moment, you felt like you were mourning the loss all over again. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Come on, sweetheart.” He reached over, cupping your face in his palm as his thumb drifted over your cheek. “Don’t you know by now, I’d do anything to see you smile?” Your eyes fluttered closed, your head automatically leaning into his touch. You couldn’t believe you were lucky enough to have him not only once, but twice.

“You never had to try very hard to get a smile from me.” You said, turning your head towards his hand ever so slightly. As if it were a natural reaction, you placed a small kiss to the pad of his thumb, a silent thank you for everything he had done. His breath caught in his throat at the feeling of your lips on his skin, but he tried not to let it phase him too much.

As much as he wanted to kiss you, to show you how much he missed you, the time was not right. He had a plan, one that he was determined to follow through with, and he had to stick to it, even if you were making it incredibly difficult to do so.

“Since we’re taking a walk down memory lane, I figured this would tie it all together.” He changed the subject, reaching to the table and grabbing the last item he pulled from the bag. He flashed them in your direction, a sheepish smile on his face as you read the label.

“Newports.” You laughed, remembering the smell of the cheap smoke stuck to his clothes wherever he went. “Big rockstar like you can’t afford better?”

“I always said I’d never smoke another one of these,” he grinned, turning the pack around so he could take a look for himself. “I’m feeling a little nostalgic, I think.”

“Cheap cigarettes and strawberry wine. Our childhood in a nutshell.” You giggled, breaking apart the wooden chopsticks and flipping the top of your takeout container open. He took a seat across from you, doing the same as you did. “You were such a bad influence.”

“Oh, whatever.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You were the one with the fake ID, sunshine.”

“Yeah, because yours looked like shit.” You laughed, shaking your head at him. “Guy at the liquor store laughed in your face when you showed him that waste of money.”

“So cruel, and for what, sweetheart?” Jake grinned, clearly unbothered by your comment. He had missed the banter that flowed so easily between the two of you, the endless jokes and the constant laughter. He was most comfortable around you, never second guessing himself and always certain that you would support his crazy ideas. He didn’t realize how much he truly missed your company until he was around you again.

“Not cruel if it’s the truth, Jacob.” You defended yourself, taking a bite of the food he had so kindly bought for you. Your eyes fluttered closed at the taste, the nostalgia of the moment bringing you back to a better time, the best time of your life. “I can’t believe you pulled all of this off.”

“I would have done more, if I could have. Was a bit short notice, but I wanted to do something with you, even if it is a reused date idea.” He gave a soft smile, a bit regretful that he didn’t have time to plan for something more elaborate.

“Are you kidding, Jake? This is perfect.” You assured him. “My favorite food, my favorite wine, in my favorite place with my favorite person.” You listed off, sending him a playful grin. “I couldn’t have asked for more. It doesn’t matter what we do, Jake. I’m just happy I get to see you again after so long.”

“I’m so happy to see you too, sunshine. More than you’ll ever know.” He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “I thought about you every fuckin’ day. I couldn’t get you out of my head.” You averted your gaze to the table, overtaken with guilt at his confession. You held remorse for forcing yourself to forget, especially after discovering that he could not do the same thing. He spent every night awake, thinking of you and wondering where you ended up, and you did everything you could to rid yourself of his memory so the pain would stop. “You know that Sinéad O’Connor song? The one that used to play on the radio all the time?”

“You turned to 90’s pop to get over me?” You giggled, teasing him over the fact. Out of all the songs, that one was not what you were expecting him to be listening to. “You know that’s not even her song, right? Prince wrote it.”

“No, smartass. Listen to me.” He laughed, waiting to share his story without your unsolicited comments.

“Okay, okay, sorry.” You blushed, conceding and letting him speak his truth.

“I was in bed one night, and I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d listen to some music, and like always, it made me think of you. You were always trying to get me to listen to new things, and in senior year you went through this huge phase with grunge music.”

“God, don’t remind me.” You covered your face with your hand, slouching in your seat as embarrassment took hold. It was not because of the music, but rather because of your obnoxious behavior as you tried to get Jake to enjoy it as much as you did.

“Back then, I listened to it sometimes when I missed you, because it was some of the last songs we listened to together. I was listening to some of Chris Cornell’s solo stuff because he was your favorite artist at the time, and he did a cover of that song. Have you listened to it?”

“What?” You asked, surprised you never stumbled across it before. “Really?”

“Yeah, and it was really fuckin’ good.” Jake chuckled. “The minute he started singing, I swear all I could see was you. I listened to it on repeat—in the shower, eating dinner, all of the time, sunshine. Josh was so sick of it he forbade me from listening to it anymore. It felt like… when I closed my eyes, I could almost picture you there beside me, listening to it too.” He explained, his honesty equal to a punch in the gut. “When Chris Cornell died, I almost called, just to see if you were okay. Sat in my room for an hour, finger over that call button, but it had been so long and I was too scared.”

“He’s still my favorite, and I was not okay.” You forced a laugh, bargaining with the lump in your throat and the sting of tears in your eyes. “I wish you called—I should have called.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, the emotion too great to shove back down. “I never stopped caring, Jake. I tried to force myself to forget about us, about how much I cared for you. It took so long, but even when I did, after I wiped my memory clean and became a whole new person, it still felt like there was something missing. When I found all of that stuff, I knew why; you were missing, and nothing has felt right since that day.”

“Sunshine,” he warned, reaching across the table and swiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Don’t be sad. I didn’t call, either. We were both stupid, and were making up for it now.”

“I’ll never stop being sorry, bug.” You reached up, holding his hand to your face as your chest ached. “Leaving you was the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

“Let’s be sad about that tomorrow.” He tried again, guilty that his words imposed such sadness on you. “Let’s have fun tonight, and have the hard conversations later. I miss you so much, and I want to enjoy every second I have with you.” He continued, silently begging you to look at him and see the sincerity in his eyes. “I’ll talk about whatever you want when the sun comes up tomorrow, but right now, I want to be with you, just like we used to be. Can you do that for me? For old times sake?” You swallowed back your tears, taking a deep breath to calm the raging sorrow in your heart, and looked up to meet his gaze. Like always, the brown of his irises sent a warmth washing over you, more comforting than the sun and more familiar than your own house.

Still, after six years, he was home to you.

“For old times sake.” You smiled, nodding in agreement.

“Good, because I have more plans for us.” He grinned, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “And I’m not telling you what it is, so don’t even bother.”

“That’s not fair.” You argued, watching as he returned to his normal position, taking a bite of his food. He kept you in suspense for a moment, neglecting a response as you waited for him to give in.

“It’s perfectly fair, sunshine.” He chuckled. “Now relax, eat your dinner and stop worrying about everything.”

“Do you know how hard that is for me? All I do is worry.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He laughed, reaching over and opening the bottle of wine for you. “That will never change.” He smiled, offering you the bottle with a raised eyebrow. You watched him for a moment, finally letting yourself feel all of the things you locked up for so long. It felt good to love him freely, without the burden of pain that came from leaving. Right now, you were with him, laughing with him, loving him after so long of punishing yourself for it. It was liberating, and you knew he was right; you had to stop wasting your time being sad and sorrowful over your past mistakes.

“Black by Pearl Jam.” You said, snatching the bottle from his hand with a playful smile stuck on your lips. No matter how bad it hurt, you couldn’t deny the joy you felt in his company.

“What?” He asked, watching as you placed the bottle to your lips and tilted your head back. The sweet taste filled your senses, better than you expected and much smoother than the ten dollar bottles you bought as kids. You took a hearty drink, lowering the bottle from your mouth as you swallowed it down, never breaking eye contact. The glisten of alcohol on your lips was prominent under the early summer sun, making him shift in his seat as he bargained with the thoughts racing through his head.

“That was my song. The one I listened to and thought of you.” He reached over and took the bottle from your hands, taking a drink while he thought about your words. When he sat it back on the table, a smile pulled at his lips.

“Like I said, Angel. We were both so stupid.”

Dinner went by quickly, and you found yourself mourning the fact it would be coming to an end as the sun began to set in the sky. You thought it would be difficult to do as Jake asked, that you would struggle to push your sadness aside and harness the love that he was trying to give you, but as time went on, it was easier than anything you’d ever done. Being with him again was better than you imagined it would be, and sometimes, you forgot there was ever a time you were apart at all. When the wine neared the end of the bottle, all thanks to you, your cheeks were warm and your eyes glossy with adoration for the boy sitting across from you. With the help of alcohol, you let your guard down completely, and you started forget why you had it up in the first place.

Jake was packing up the mess you made, sneaking glances at you as you watched him work. You had gotten loose with your tongue and the tension in your shoulders had fully subsided, leaving you more obvious with your admiration and even passing a few flirtatious words his way. You were far from drunk, but you did have enough wine in you that the prospect of loving Jake had become much less scary and much more inviting. You missed feeling this way, carefree and happy just to exist beside him, and you were doing exactly as you were told; enjoying him for the little time he could be with you.

“Ready to hit the next stop, sunshine?” He asked, finally clearing the table off and looking at you.

“Ready.” You nodded, a permanent smile anchored on your lips. “Where is that, exactly?”

“Surprise.” He smiled, clutching the bag of garbage in one hand as he offered his other to you. You reached out, sliding your fingers over his palm and interlocking them with his. You couldn’t ignore the jolt of electricity that ran through you, the power behind a simple touch that no other boy could seem to replicate.

“I hate surprises, bug.” You said, pulling yourself off the bench to stand beside him. He gave a low chuckle, squeezing your hand gently as he began to walk back in the direction the two of you came from.

“Just trust me, love.” He said, guiding you towards the trail through the trees. It was so easy for him to fall back into the same routine, and he barely had a second thought about it. Loving you was the easiest thing he’d ever done, and he was happy he had the chance to do it again.

When you made it back to the parking lot, he stopped by a garbage can on the edge of the lot placed by the city to reduce littering, depositing the bag of trash he took from the table. This time, as you walked to the car, he followed you to the passenger side. He opened the door for you, holding it so you could climb inside. Before you did, you dropped your hold on his hand, stepping towards him rather than the car. You extended your arms out, wrapping them around his torso and pulling him closer to you. The tipsiness aided your confidence, but your love for him was the biggest driving force.

Without a second thought, he returned the hug with enthusiasm, snaking one arm around your waist and placing one hand on the back of your head. Your cheek rested against his chest, his partially unbuttoned shirt allowing for your skin to connect with his in a long overdue reunion. You closed your eyes, letting his cologne surround you as you soaked in the intimacy. If you could, you would have stayed there forever, happy in his arms and never having to worry about anything else.

“I missed you, Jake. So much.” You mumbled, feeling his arm tighten around your waist.

“You have no idea, sunshine.” He whispered, his head turned down and his lips pressed to the top of your head. It was the truth; you had no idea how desperately he missed you, and he had no idea how badly you longed for him to hold you just like he was in that moment.

Reluctantly, you pulled away, the warmth of his skin still felt on your face despite the distance between you, but he didn’t let you move too far away. His hand on the back of your head moved to your cheek, cupping your face as you looked up at him. The sunset in the background casted an ethereal glow over his already beautiful face, making him all the more irresistible. You wanted to kiss him, to close the gap and taste him on your tongue. You wanted to savour the sweetness of having him so close, to show him how much he meant to you despite your previous actions saying otherwise. You wanted to apologize, to make amends for the stupidity your younger self engaged in and atone for the suffering you caused him. More than anything, you wanted him.

For a moment, you thought he was feeling the same. The look in his eye was familiar, you’d seen it a million times. The slight smile on his lips, his shallow breaths and shining eyes was all eerily reminiscent of a version of him you knew so well. Instead of following the yearning of his heart, he closed his eyes and pulled away from you, going back to holding the door open so you could climb inside as if the intimate display you found yourselves in never existed at all. You blinked hard, biting down on the inside of your lip as you felt a wave of disappointment wash over you. Instead of speaking on it, you turned and slid back into the passenger seat, swallowing hard as you straightened the skirt of your dress.

Did he not want to kiss you? He himself said it was a date, but every time you found an opportune moment to kiss, he turned away and shut it down. Was he afraid like you were, or was he having second thoughts about what he wanted?

You tried not to dwell, especially after he climbed in the car beside you, but it proved difficult to pry the thoughts out of your mind. When his hand snaked to your thigh, you only found yourself even more confused.

What game was he playing?

Jake’s POV

‘Just a little longer. It has to be perfect.’ You thought to yourself, trying to steady the shake of your hand as you gripped the steering wheel. You couldn’t deny the flash of sadness that crossed her face when you pulled away, and it was killing you the longer you replayed it in your head. You wanted to kiss her, more than you wanted anything in your entire life. She was it for you, everything you hoped for and everything you dreamed of, but you wanted your second first kiss to be better than the first kiss you shared all those years ago. You didn’t want your emotions to get in the way, to cloud the plans you made on your drive back to your hometown.

She deserved better than a spur of the moment kiss because you couldn’t contain yourself. She deserved everything, and you were determined to give it to her. The moment was right, and you knew that the minute it happened it would be perfect for you, but there was one thing missing, one last piece to the puzzle. You’d spent the entire day proving to her that you weren’t taking this second chance for granted, that all you were saying was true, and not just you talking out of your ass.

You remembered everything, from the smallest of details to the biggest memories shared with her. You remembered exactly how she looked in the morning, half asleep with a lazy smile across her lips as she twisted a lock of your hair around her finger. You remembered the sparkle of love in her eye on her mothers rooftop, scolding you for smoking as she sipped away at a bottle of cheap wine from the corner store. You remembered all of it, and you needed to show her that she still meant that much to you, that you spent six years ensuring her memory remained intact no matter how far away she was, and you were almost there.

The drive to the bar was nearly silent aside from the hum of the radio in the background. You knew she was overthinking the moment, that she was racking her brain to understand the mixed signals you gave her just moments before, but you knew you couldn’t settle that fear without exposing your entire plan. She was right, you were terrible at keeping secrets and horrible at surprises, but you so badly wanted it to remain that way until the moment it happened. You were thankful she expressed her desire to kiss you, and you hoped she still felt that way as the night carried on. You kept your hand on her thigh, a silent reassurance that you wanted her without having to speak it aloud. The touch seemed to calm her nerves but not settle her mind, but you could make due with that for now.

The old dive bar was familiar, not one you frequented but one that was very memorable to the both of you. As you pulled into the lot, the building the same as it was all those years ago, a different lifetime flashed before your eyes. One of the last weekend's you spent together, before she left for good, the two of you spent hours wandering the town and trying to make as many memories as you could before time would not allow for any more. You ended up here, hand in hand in the parking lot and willing to test your luck with your fake IDs one last time. Luckily for you, the establishment was so nonchalant that they never bothered to ask for your ID in the first place, and you spent the rest of your night tipsy from cheap liquor. You learned how to play pool, and as the crowd filtered out for the night, you slow danced to every song she played on the old jukebox in the corner.

As you parked, you looked over to her, wondering if she remembered it with the same clarity you did. As she turned to face you, the look in her eyes told you all you needed to know.

‘Make it to the jukebox, Jacob. You can do it.’

“I can’t believe you remembered all of this stuff, Jake.” She whispered, her eyes glimmering with another round of unshed tears. You wished you could stop forcing her into sadness, that you could be the reason for the smiles instead of the tears, but you understood that as fantastic as your day had been, it brought up plenty of unresolved feelings.

“There’s not a single thing I’ve ever been able to forget, sunshine.” You confessed, feeling the pull of gravity force you towards her again. Despite every single thing in your body screaming for you to give in, to lean over and kiss her right there, you forced yourself to stay still, forced yourself not to do the only thing you ever wanted to do. “Let’s head in.” You said, unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing out of the car. You wished you could stay, to stare at her and admire the softness of her face and the beauty of her as a whole, but the longer you sat, the harder it became to keep your distance. You walked to her side of the vehicle, opening the door for her and taking her hand as she climbed out. “I can finally get my rematch. Been waiting for six years.”

“I won fair and square, Jake.” She quipped, stepping onto the old wooden stairs as she approached the door. She remembered.

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, sarcasm dripping from your tone as you stepped forward to open the door for her. “You were distracting me the whole time. I think that’s cheating.”

“Please.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes as a playful smile spread across her face. She sent a lingering stare at you over her shoulder as she stepped inside, begging for you to challenge her. “Not my fault you couldn’t focus on the game.”

“Actually, sweetheart, it’s entirely your fault.” You laughed, letting the door swing shut behind you. “Can’t walk around like that all of the time and expect me not to stare.” Her cheeks turned pink, shielded by the curls falling effortlessly around her face to further her beauty. She seemed in better spirits, your lighthearted teasing helping her forget the moment at the park.

You didn’t care about pool, and you didn’t care about a rematch; all of those years ago, you threw the game so she could win, just so you could see her smile. You took all of the teasing with a grain of salt and made a pact with yourself that she would never find out the truth behind her victory. Happiness looked too good on her, and you would be damned if you ever took that away.

“Drink?” You asked, slipping your arm around her waist as her eyes scanned the crowded pool table. Her head turned, her eyes connecting with yours as her face hovered inches away from your own. You noticed her eyes flicker to your lips, silently pleading with you to take the initiative.

“Sure.” She nodded, the scent of her perfume nearly making you fall to your knees. It was so familiar, something you hadn’t experienced in a long time. Now that it was in front of your face, you couldn’t believe you lived so long without it. “Manhattan, please.” She flashed you a breathtaking smile before giving your bicep a slight squeeze. “I’m gonna grab that table in the corner.” She pointed to the booth nearest to the pool table, just a few feet away from the jukebox that you were itching to get to.

“Okay, I’ll meet you over there.” You assured her, watching as she walked away from you. There was a slight sway in her step sending you weak in the knees, but you managed to push the thoughts away and turn to the bar.

You took a few strides towards the bartender, posted in the middle and awaiting your company. You sent an occasional glance over your shoulder, never able to rid yourself of the protective nature you felt when it came to her. As you saw her sitting, content as she waited for you, you turned to order. The bartender was gruff, but still friendly. He quickly fixed your drinks and started you a tab, sending you on your way within a few minutes.

Both drinks in hand, you walked over to join her, carefully placing the martini glass in front of her. You slid in the booth on the opposite side, taking a small sip from your own drink to calm your racing mind.

“Thank you, bug.” The nickname rolled off her tongue so easily, igniting a flame in your heart you believed to be long burnt out. She was going to be the death of you, and you knew that much for certain.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” You flashed her a smile, hoping she couldn’t pick up on your anxious eyes.

“So how long are you home for?” She asked, grabbing the pick holding the cherries from her drink. Her eyes flickered to meet yours as she pulled one of them into her mouth, a dribble of the dark liquid falling down her chin as she did so. Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes trained to her lips in a moment of weakness she was painfully aware of.

“Uh, few days at least.” You shook yourself free from the desire that was pushing you closer and closer to insanity. “We might stay a little longer, depending on how busy we’ll be when we get back home.”

“Full itinerary for the trip?” She raised an eyebrow, raising the glass to her lips and taking a sip from it. Her eyes never left yours as she did so, clearly hinting at something she wasn’t ready to ask aloud yet.

“No, not really.” You smirked, leaning back in the booth as you raised your own drink to your mouth. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.” She shrugged, holding her drink close to her as her eyes trailed over you. “Is that a crime?”

“No.” You shook your head, knowing you would answer anything she asked of you. “Is there something else you’d rather ask me?” You raised an eyebrow wondering if you could pry the question from her, or if she would ask on her own time, no matter your response.

“Like what?” She played the game well, knowing you already knew what she was thinking.

“If we could do this again before I left?” You knew you hit the nail on the head when her cheeks flushed and her gaze fell to the table. “Second first date going so well you want a second, second date?” At that, a laugh fell from her lips, finding your question ridiculous but perfectly fitting for the two of you.

“You’re an idiot.” She giggled, but you felt her foot brush your own under the table. You reached for her hand, taking it in your own and letting your thumb drift over hers.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, lacing her fingers with yours. “I would like to go on a second date, Jake. Maybe something a little bit more tame, like a movie night at my house? Like old times?” A smile pulled at your lips, your stomach fluttering with nerves at the thought of being cuddled up in her bed again. “I can kick Mel out for the night.��

“She can stay, if she’s okay with being a third wheel.” You offered, not wanting to exclude her completely.

“Who knows? First time the tables have ever been turned like this.” She let the words slip without a second thought, her eyebrows raising in surprise at herself.

“What do you mean?” You pressed, intrigue getting the best of you.

“Nothin’,” she brushed you off, taking an abnormally long sip from her drink. You didn’t drop it though, still curious about what she meant as the bottom of the glass touched against the worn tabletop.

“Tell me, sunshine.” You pleaded, squeezing her hand to sway her decision. She let out a huff of annoyance, finding it just as hard to avoid your questions, and eventually deeming it best to answer.

“I mean, she’s never had to be a third wheel before.” She squeaked out, almost embarrassed by the thought. You couldn’t help but take note of how beautiful she looked, even in the dim light of the hazy bar. Her cheeks were rosy, a permanent smile on her lips, and her hair was falling down over her shoulders. There was a faint hint of lipgloss still clinging to her lips, and her eyes were sparkling with an overly familiar emotion. “I haven’t really… dated anyone since we broke up, I guess?” She phrased her words like a question, as if you would know the answer better than she did. “Is that stupid? No, it’s stupid. Forget I said that. I’ve dated so many people Jake, you wouldn’t even be able to believe it.” She said, shifting nervously in her seat as she awaited your answer.

“I didn’t either, sunshine.” You assured her, unable to express how relieved you were to hear her say it. “I couldn’t… I never wanted to call someone else my girlfriend, because I only ever wanted to be with you.” She let out a sigh of relief at your words, relaxing into her seat as she let the truth sink in.

“It never felt right.” She explained, toying with the pick holding her second cherry. “I tried, because after a few years I was lonely, but I just couldn’t find anyone else. They weren’t terrible… they just weren’t you. Nobody could ever come close to you.”

“Are you trying to get me to fall in love again, sunshine?” You asked, swirling the ice around in your drink before you took a sip. She was smiling as she finished off the last of hers, the alcohol taking a clear effect on her as she sat the empty glass back on the table. She grabbed the tip of the metal pick holding the cherry, extending her arm towards you and offering it to you.

“It would really be falling back in love if we never really fell out of it, right?” She asked, watching as you leaned forward and took the cherry between your teeth. You pulled it from the pick and into your mouth, settling back in your seat as the sweetness filled your senses.

“S’pose not, sweetheart.” You hummed, the newfound information igniting a fire in your heart. You glanced over your shoulder, quick enough that she didn’t notice at all, wondering how the hell you could sneak from the booth and enact the next step. “You want another drink?” You asked, eyeballing the empty glass in front of her.

“Yes please.” She hummed, her tongue trailing over her bottom lip. You swallowed hard at the sight, closing your eyes for a moment to rid yourself of the neediness beginning to grow at a rapid rate. There was something about her, so effortless and unintentional as she drove you to madness without ever realizing it. “I’m going to run to the bathroom. Meet you back here?”

“Sure thing, baby.” You clicked your tongue, thankful that she made it all the easier for you to do what you needed to do. You let her exit the booth first, shamelessly staring as she disappeared into the small crowd by the door.

When she was out of sight, you rushed over to the bar, grabbing two more drinks and bringing them back to the table. You sat them down, checking over your shoulder to ensure she hadn’t come back yet. When you deemed the coast clear, you took a step towards the Jukebox—or a poor, modern excuse for one, at that. You assumed the old one was broken beyond repair, so they were forced to replace it with the electronic screen. Although it was a little easier to navigate, it took the charm from it almost entirely. Still, you knew her well, and as much as she tried to believe she wasn’t a sentimental person, she was a sucker for an old memory. The night had only further proven that to you, and when she stepped back out to join you, you would finally confess the last little bit of truth you were keeping secret.

Having the song typed in and ready to play, you turned to wait for her, holding your breath for the entire time. To you, it seemed like an eternity, but in reality, it was barely a minute until she came back into view. Her red dress flowed gracefully around her, the long curls bouncing with every step, and a smile on her face that left you speechless every time she looked your way. She was perfect, an Angel sent to earth to make everyone else jealous of her, and you were the one lucky enough to call her yours, for a second time nonetheless. You reached backwards, barely able to pull your eyes away from her as you pressed the play button. As soon as you did, it felt like the world stopped turning, like you were frozen in time until she decided if your heart was worthy of her love, one last time.

TAGLIST: @anythingforjtk @highway-tuna @klarxtr @hollyco @thetroublegetssoloud71 @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @raceb14 @watchingover-hypegirl @starshine-gvf @do-it-jakey-baby @gretavansara @jakesbeloved @woyayaofdreams @jakeyt @kiszkas-canvas @gracev0609 @josh-iamyour-mama @musicspeaks @gretavangroupie @gretavanmoon

82 notes · View notes