#I had tears in my eyes but they didn’t fall
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Broken Promises
Anon request: "Max x Leclerc reader . In which its readers bday and it’s her bday party and charles doesn’t show up for the 3rd year after like promising he would for sure show up and she doesn’t like even want a bday anymore. I swear i don’t hate charles LOL."
Summary: It’s your birthday, and once again, your brother Charles has fails to show up despite his promise.
Max Verstappen x Leclerc!reader
Warnings: none. Poor use of Google Translate for language.
You’d planned everything perfectly and exactly how you’d wanted. The decorations were perfect, and you had streamers, balloons, and fairy lights hung around your spacious living room. Max had helped, getting caterers in and the best birthday cake you could ask for.
However, your excitement quickly turned to disappointment as your phone lit up with a text from your older brother, Charles.
Charlie: Sœurette… I’m sorry, I cannot make the party. I promise I’ll make it up to you.
You threw the phone down angrily on the counter, not caring if the screen was broken or not. You cursed a few words in French as you let out your frustration.
“Tête de bite! Stupide imbécile!” you screamed.
Max came running as he heard the loud bang followed by your shouting.
“He promised, Max! He said he’d be here. He missed my last two fucking birthdays!”
Max stood there, letting you let out your anger but also feeling his own anger bubbling inside. Charles had promised; he was there when you were excitedly bouncing as you told Charles about the music, the decorations, and the food—how excited you were to celebrate with your whole family again when no one had races or interviews or promotions to film.
“I know, schatje… I’m sorry,” he comforted as he pulled you into his arms. He knew how excited you’d been and how much it meant for all your older brothers to be there.
You pulled away and wiped your tears as you tried to put on a brave face, tried to push through your emotions and finish setting up the place for your guests. Arthur and Lorenzo were still coming, and you just wanted Charles to be there for once. He’d missed the last two years, and he’d promised he’d be there this time.
As your guests arrived, you kissed their cheeks, hugged them, and took pictures, but your heart just wasn’t in it. The party was in full swing with music, food, and enjoyment, but you felt like an outsider in your own house. You watched as everyone else danced, laughed, and had fun, but you just couldn’t feel that joy yourself. You knew it was stupid, but you sat in the corner and watched the door, hoping it was just a joke your brothers were playing on you, hoping with everything that he’d walk through the door with that goofy smile and pull you into one of his hugs that you loved so much. But the door stayed closed, and your brother never came.
Max mingled with your guests and his friends, but he saw the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, how withdrawn you were, and how you kept checking your phone for any updates from your brother. He came to your side and took the seat next to yours, putting his arm around you as he pulled you into his side. “Are you okay?”
You sighed, determined not to let the tears that had been threatening to spill over fall. “I just don’t get it, Max. Why does he keep making promises he can’t keep? He hasn’t come to my last three birthdays now. Do I not matter to him?”
Max’s grip tightened around you. “I’m sorry, liefde. I know it hurts, but your birthday does matter, and so do you. You matter to me and to all the people here tonight.”
You buried your face in his shoulder as the tears you’d tried to keep in all night started to fall. “I don’t even want a birthday anymore. It hurts too much.”
Max gently shifted, lifting your chin slightly so he could look at you. “Don’t say that. Today is your day, and I’m going to make it special. Your brother might not be here, but I am, and so are your friends. Let’s not let him ruin another birthday, hmm?”
You nodded, knowing he was right and so grateful for the support. You sniffed and wiped away your tears. “Okay… but I don’t feel like being around everyone right now. Can we go for a walk? Get some fresh air?”
Max smiled and got up, holding his hand out for you. “Sure. Let’s go.”
You sent a text to Arthur to come up with an excuse in case anyone noticed you and Max were gone before you both managed to quietly slip out of the house. The cool air of the evening was a welcome relief from the crowded apartment. You and Max walked in a comforting silence, your hand in his as the lights of the city twinkled around you.
Max led you to a little bench on the beachfront and sat down, gesturing for you to join him. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in close once more. You closed your eyes, just enjoying the moment with you and him alone.
“You know, I hated my birthday too when I was younger. There was so much pressure to make it the perfect day, and it never was, and my dad wasn’t exactly parent of the year when it came to birthdays; he missed more than I can count.”
“You shouldn’t have had to go through that, Max,” you leaned in closer to him.
“Now I’m older, all that matters is I get to celebrate another year of life and I’ve got you by my side.”
“You’re right. It’s just hard when someone you love lets you down.”
“I know,” Max replied as he pressed a kiss to your temple, “but you’re not alone. You’ve got me, and I’m not going anywhere; no more broken promises.”
A smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Max, for everything. Sorry I ruined the party.”
“Shut up,” he grinned playfully. “You’ve not ruined anything. Besides, you saved me from your brothers. Anyway, I didn’t get to give you your present yet.”
You leaned away from him, your curiosity piqued. “What present?”
He reached into the pocket of the Red Bull jacket he’d thrown on before he left and pulled out a sleek black box, beautifully wrapped with a silver bow. “Happy birthday, schat.”
You took the box and carefully unwrapped it to reveal a rose gold necklace with four pendants, each with a letter on it: an M, J, S, and your initial.
“Now you can always carry us with you. You’ll always have me, Jimmy, and Sassy, and there’s room to add more,” he explained.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” you whispered, your voice laced with emotion.
You turned around and let him fasten it around your neck before turning back and leaning in to kiss him. “Thank you, love, for making today special despite everything.”
“Anything for you, schatje. Happy birthday.”
Although you knew you couldn’t get over your disappointment with Charles that easily, sitting there with Max, you knew that it didn’t matter who wasn’t there but who was, and with Max by your side, you’d be okay.
#f1#formula 1#formula one#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#formula one fanfic#formula one fanfiction#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 fanfiction#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#mv1#mv1 x reader#mv33#mv33 x reader#leclerc reader#leclerc!reader#max verstappen x leclerc reader#max verstappen x leclerc!reader#mine#my writing#beth writes#anon request
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Mad Max (angry kind of frustrated max verstappen) like barging through the paddock mad - when he sees her (reader) his anger falls and he gets teary and turns into clingy breakdown maxie
… just a cutesy idea i had
thx byeee💗💗
Max is having an awful weekend. The car is shit, and everyone is asking him why he didn’t participate in the run for Senna that Seb organized, and he is just so tired of repeating the same thing over and over again because, apparently, everyone wants to hate on him this weekend.
He just finished with an interview, very abruptly after the reporter acted unprofessional. He really doesn’t care that everyone is going to be talking about that for the rest of the weekend too.
“Max,” His PR officer says, touching his shoulder to make him stop walking. “the reporter wants to talk.”
Max scoffs, rolling his eyes. “About what? If he isn’t going to apologize, then I don’t have anything to say.” He walks away when from the corner of his eye sees a few reporters and cameras pointing his way. Max knows that he should apologize to her later, for leaving like that, but now he just wants to get the fuck out of the paddock and hope for the best for qualifying tomorrow.
He’s walking fast, very fast, avoiding eye contact and every fan that tries to make their way towards him. He doesn’t care about being disrespectful now, they need to respect him and his time too.
But then someone is grabbing him by his arm and he just can’t take it anymore. Max turns around, only to find his favorite person looking at him with a worried expression on her face.
“Maxie?” You ask, leaning a little closer and cupping his cheek. “Gemma told me what happened, you want to talk about it?”
And suddenly he is at a loss of words, the urge to cry making it hard to think straight.
Max can only shake his head, eyes filling with tears in just a couple of seconds. And, knowing him like the palm of your hand, you see right through him.
“You want to leave? Back to the hotel?”
Max nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I just need,” He bites his lower lip, noticing a few people around that can’t stop looking at you two. “to grab a few things from my drivers room.”
You hold his hand, squeezing slightly. “We can ask Gemma to do that.”
Max feels relieved because he really doesn’t have the strength to stay a second longer in this place.
The car is already waiting for you when you walk out of the paddock. You let Max get in first before climbing inside and sitting by his side.
No one says anything for the first half of the way, but then Max is turning around and looking at you with a pout on his lips. And you can only open your arms.
Max rests his head on your lap for the rest of the way, your fingers massaging his scalp as you patiently wait for him to start talking.
“I’m having a bad weekend.” He says after what feels like hours. “I don’t want to think. I just want to sleep.”
“You can sleep, baby. I’ll wake you up when we get there.” You lean down to place a kiss on the top of his head. “You need to rest.”
Max sniffs, “Would you hold me? Please?”
“I’m never letting you go.”
#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#max verstappen x reader#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen angst#max verstappen x you#f1 fanfic
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Baby, is it gonna fit ?
⋆ ˚｡⋆ TXT SERIES ⋆ ˚｡⋆
Pairing: Bf! Soobin X Gf! Femreader
Synopsis: Soobin didn't know that he had a Size Kink at all, it all started Innocent but Deep down he Truly Knows that it's not Innocent at all.
Warning: Smut, MDNI, 18+, Size kink, Unprotected, Reader gets called ( Baby, Princess, My Love, Babygirl) etc.
CHOI SOOBIN | 최수빈
Soobin has a major size Kink....
It all started with how small and short you look beside his 6’1 frame, he is twice as taller then you and to which he somehow felt proud about it, comparing how small your hand are in comparison to his, huge hands then,
How small you looked in his Gigantic Shirt as he smiled like fool watching you drown in his clothes.
He didn’t think that something this innocent will become something so…..kinky,? But it actually did cause..
Whenever his cock was buried deep inside of your cunt all he can think of is how tightly you’re squeezing around his Length, watching how good you’re taking him with tears streaming down your face as you take inhuman thrust.
He watches as his cock disappear inside your that tight little hole that felt like a glove to cock, pounding inside your Sensitive pussy as you already cum for the second time, begging him that you can’t take it anymore to which he replies,
“ Yess you can, my love, ..take all that I’m giving you” as you dumbly nod at his words through your tears proving the fact how fucked out you are right now,
Continuing to abuse his cock inside your overstimulated pussy as it reaches your cervix making your eyes roll back at the stretch and pleasure you feel,
“God, you feel so good around me” Your boyfriend rasp out between his brutal pace of thrusts, You mumble out incoherent words between your moans of pleasure,
“ huh ..uh ….keep going-g” you said in between your hiccups as you feel yourself reaching your third orgasm of the night
“Fuck, look at you right now” He grins upon hearing your request and obliging to it immediately as his thrust turns more Deep and rhythmically harder into your cunt making a clapping sound of Skin Smacking against eachother, making you tremble at the newly set pace,
“you want to come, princess?”
“Y-yes, I- please---”
“Then cum for me babygirl, cum on my cock” Soobin says out of breath as he cums at the same time filling you up with his cum but doesn't stop with his thrust as he continues to fuck his cum into your sensitive pussy making you clench around his cock in an extremely tight grip.
His hips started to give desperate thrust into you, as one of his hands pulls your body even more closer then it was and the other hand pulling your hips closer to his as He started to grind his hip back and forth to yours causing even more friction then ever,
"fucking hell baby, you feel so fucking good." He grunts out, Head falling back as His hand let go of your hip and wrapping his hand around your delicate neck and start to fuck you even harder, in his head all he can think of how Fucking small you are compared to him, How he can easily break you, or How your small cunt is taking his huge cock,
Breaking away from his Trail of thought His eyes focus on yours at how you look on the verge of passing out,
Soobin's constant thrust of his hip inside you, making you too fucked out to even move from the mix of pain & pleasure that your receiving, all you can do is moan and scream at how good you feel right now,
With each thrust, you quite literally Screamed. Seems like you were too sensitive at this point. The sensation of him repeatedly slamming his hips against you turned you into a sobbing mess,
And when his climax exploded for the fourth time within you with one last powerful thrust, his hot cum spurting hard, stuffing you to the brim and painting your womb white— you clawed at him, tugged him closer to your breasts as a mix of scream and moan of his name escaped your lips, trembling at the depth to which he was burying himself inside you.
You were panting, totally spent, sensing the familiar way of his cum trickling down your thighs as Soobin lays inside of you, not pulling out immediately as his cock continues to breed his cum inside of your womb as Soobin gazes down to your flushed goddess like face,
" When did I get so lucky" Soobin mumbles while looking at your sleepy smile that you give him as you drift into slumber
#kpop#choi soobin#soobin x reader#txt#txt smut#tomorrow x together#choi soobin x reader#choi soobin smut#soobin smut#txt fluff#txt taehyun#txt soobin#txt hard hours#txt x reader#txt yeonjun#yeonjun smut#taehyun smut#beomgyu smut#hueningkai smut#txt post#txt scenarios#choi beomgyu#choi yeonjun#kang taehyun#txt huening kai#txt beomgyu#txt fanfic#txt smau#choi yeonjun x reader#choi beomgyu x reader
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Enemies (occasionally to lovers) Scenarios with the current grid
with prompts from @koishua
Mostly angst with no resolution, but there’s a bit of fluff sprinkled throughout. Enjoy!
Thank you to @percervall for beta reading for me!! You’re a star ⭐️
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#1 Max Verstappen
The breeze was cool against your skin as you gripped the railing - looking down out over the city below, the music of the nightclub increased for a moment as someone joined you, before being muffled with a quiet click of the door. Your shoulders tensed, you knew exactly who it was - you’d come out here to escape him and he’d followed you.
“Go back inside, Max.” Your jaw clenched, but his footsteps continued until he was beside you, back leaning against the railing. “Didn’t you fucking hear me?”
“I did.” He hummed, arms folded across his chest.
“Then why are you still here?”
His silence caused you to snap your head to look at him, throw a glare in his direction - expecting the same look back. But his eyes were soft, gently flickering across your face - you watched as he swallowed heavily, daring to let his gaze fall to your lips.
Your voice was venomous when you spoke again. "Don't you dare look at me that way. Not now, after every vile thing we've done to each other."
“Listen…”
“No. You don’t get to do this, Max… it’s not fair,” you snapped, “You don’t get to bully me and talk shit about me and then all of a sudden decide you fancy me! We’re not little kids, you can’t grab me by the pigtails and push me down just because you have feelings. You should go.”
Every fibre of Max’s being wanted to protest, tell you that you were wrong - that he wanted to make things right between you, but your tear soaked cheeks were too much for him to handle. So instead he mumbled a quite sorry before leaving you alone with your thoughts. You let your face fall into your hands as you sobbed quietly - you’d always waited for the moment for Max to finally admit his feelings, you just never thought it would go like this.
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#2 Logan Sargeant
His head lifted from his phone as he heard a loud laugh from your side of the garage - your head tossed back as you smacked your engineer on the arm. Logan couldn’t help the way the corner of his mouth tugged up into a smile.
At the start of the season, he hated you. There was no denying it - he was jealous of how talented and likeable you were, how he was always compared to you. So he went out of his way to make you angry, make you scream at him - for just a second of your attention. But after his last DNF, you’d gone out of your way to check on him - give him soft words of encouragement and when your hand briefly ghosted his cheek to get his attention - he was smitten.
“Last time I checked, you guys were at each other’s throats,” a mechanic spoke up, “How come you’re sending heart eyes every time you see her now?”
He couldn’t help the way he blushed, just as you looked over at him - giving him a smile and a small wave. “You know what they say man, it’s a thin line.”
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#3 Daniel Ricciardo
You had to actively bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling as he talked - turning your head away so he couldn’t see your silent protest. He was smug and arrogant and didn’t deserve anyone else giving him the positive attention he so desperately craved.
“Hey, you’re allowed to laugh at my jokes, y’know.” He rolled his eyes, finally spotting you - your eyes fixated on the iPad in your hands.
“I would if they were funny,” you replied, not giving him the satisfaction of even sparing him a glance. You’d made it very clear from the day you met him that you weren’t going to fall for his shit like everyone else and Daniel hated it.
And he was desperate to win you over - he’d caught you smiling before, but you’d never admit it, much rather stomp on his ego - especially when he was already down.
"Fine, continue to act like you hate me," he teased, his dark eyes had a glint in them - throwing you a wink when you finally looked up from your work to roll your eyes. “I know the truth.”
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#4 Lando Norris
Lando was the happiest he’d ever felt, rushing towards his team with the biggest smile on his face - letting their cheers rush through his veins as he dove into their arms. He felt on top of the world and he thought there was nothing that could bring him down - until he was placed on his feet and saw you stood amongst the rest of the team.
He expected some scathing remark about how he’d not even done any overtaking to get the win or that the safety car was the reason but instead you gave him a bright smile.
“That was absolutely phenomenal, Lando. You raced amazingly. Your family, especially your grandma, are so proud of you - I just know it.”
You offered him your hand to shake but in the heat of the moment he wrapped you up in his arms - relishing in the way you didn’t even hesitate to reciprocate, your body fit perfectly against his. He never wanted to let go.
“This is a one-time thing only, don’t let me being nice to you get to your head,” you whispered, giving him one final squeeze.
He pulled back from the hug just enough to look into your eyes, smiling at the pure adoration on your face as you looked at him - your words meaningless. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
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#10 Pierre Gasly
There was something about you that irritated Pierre to no end - and he knew exactly what it was. He wasn’t dumb, he knew he was attractive enough to get pretty much any girl he wanted to fold for his attention but you. You would bat your eyelashes and flirt with all of his friends, but when he approached you’d tense up, face falling flat. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to offend you but he couldn’t get you out of his head.
“You’re incorrigible, Pierre,” you hummed nonchalantly, swirling your drink in your glass as his blue eyes followed the long legs of a girl as she waltzed past. “She’s way out of your league.”
"Fuck you."
“I’m flattered, really, but no thanks.”
He groaned and practically slammed his beer down on the counter. “Do you know what I think?”
“Enlighten me.” Your bored tone nearly tipped him over the edge but he held his ground, stepping closer to you - placing a hand over yours, finally getting you to look at him.
“You want me.” You went to protest, but found your breath catching in your throat as he lent in - his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “But you don’t want to be like the other girls… but trust me, you’d never be.”
You placed a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back - confusion ghosting his features. “I’m not that easy. Try harder… but, nice to feel wanted I suppose.”
He smiled, his heart skipping a beat as your walls finally began to crumble.
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#14 Fernando Alonso
You wanted to scream, throw things, punch a wall - but you couldn’t; you just had to sit there like a good little worker as they read off your schedule for the year. When you had been put forward for your promotion, you hadn’t been expected to be glued to Fernando’s side for every second of every weekend. He noticed your tension as you gathered up your things.
“If you clench your jaw any harder you’re going to break your teeth.” He tried to avoid having a tone, but his voice wasn’t friendly. “I’m not that bad.”
“There are only three things in this world I truly cannot stand,” you hissed, shoving your things into your bag, “You, you and you.”
Fernando frowned. “I don’t understand what you think I’ve done to you.”
“Of course you don’t, your head is too far up your own ass to remember,” you scoffed.
He pressed his hand against the door to stop you opening it, a frown etched into his face - he tilted his head a little. “Tell me what I did, let me fix it.”
You sighed softly, eyes meeting his. “On my very first day, I tried to talk to you and you shoulder barged me out of the way - not even looking back to apologise.”
“I-I… wow, yeah that’s not okay. I’m sorry.”
“You’re too late, Fernando. I can be professional with you but nothing more.” Your voice was small. “Please let me go.”
He stepped aside and held the door for you, watching you scurry away - his heart splintering, hating himself that all of this torment was his own doing. He had to make it right.
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#16 Charles Leclerc
You kicked your shoes off messily as the two of you stepped into the hotel - his lips barely leaving yours for a moment as he shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. He pressed you into the nearest wall and made quick work of your shirt - tossing it over his shoulder without a glance.
Your memory of how you ended up in the situation was hazy, the last thing you remembered was screaming at him for ruining your race - saying he didn’t deserve his podium and now you were desperate for him. Your well known distaste for Charles drowned in the alcohol you’d chugged to get over your disappointment.
The taste of champagne on his tongue was addicting, you could feel yourself being drawn further in as you clumsily worked at his shirt buttons - not wanting to break the kiss. A soft whine escaped your lips when he did just that.
“Your clumsiness never fails to amaze me,” he teased, finishing the job himself before taking your hand in his and dragging you towards the bed. “You’d trip over your own toes if they weren’t attached to your feet.”
With a gentle shove, you find yourself on the mattress - propped up on your elbows as he shimmies your skirt off of your hips. “I hate you, I hope you don’t forget that after tonight.”
As he pushes your thighs apart, a smirk on his face. “I think you’re going to be the one who struggles to remember that, Cherie.”
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#18 Lance Stroll
It was petty and you knew it - you had a shit car so getting points was usually a pipe dream but when you saw the dark green of his Aston Martin in front of you, it made your blood boil. Despite rarely fighting for points, the two of you were notorious for your on track battles - with more than one incident resulting in a DNF for one, if not both of you.
In the back of your mind, you knew he’d done nothing wrong, he was an okay driver but you were jealous that his seat was so secure because he had a father who loved him so dearly. You had to earn your spot and by god you weren’t going to let some pretty rich boy be better than you.
“There’s a thing called a brake. You can fucking use it, y’know,” he shouted, storming over to you as you climbed out of your car.
“Oh that was all you! There was literally no room. Why would you try and make a move there?”
The Marshalls tried to step between you, but he wasn’t having any of it - he crowded you right against the barrier - the visor of his helmet pushed up so you could see the rage in his dark eyes, his anger only slightly muffled by his helmet. “You just need to accept that you’re a shit driver.”
“I might not be the best, but like hell would I let you be better than me,” you spat.
He placed his hands either side of you - eyes now boring into your soul, as if he was trying to read you, but with your helmet still covering your face and cameras definitely all pointed in your direction, he simply took a step back. “We’ll finish this later.”
You swallowed heavily and nodded, finally letting the Marshalls lead you away…wait, finish what later?
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#20 Kevin Magnussen
You slouched into your chair as you were scolded once again for fighting with Kevin on the track - your teammate sat looking just as pissed off as you, his arms folded across his chest. The two of you had just never clicked, and at some point the apathy turned into anger - it felt like he went out of his way to ruin all of your races when you were supposed to be teammates.
The room fell quiet as the PR team slammed the door behind them, leaving the two of you alone with your thoughts. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, as this time the incident was your fault - you’d shoved him wide at the start and he’d fallen all the way to the back, unable to make up places. It surprised you when he was the one to speak up first.
“Why can’t we just let whatever this pointless rivalry is go?”
“…I can’t even remember how it started,” you said, your cheeks heating up. “Can you?”
He paused for a moment before laughing. “No, I can’t. I’ll try and be a better teammate to you, I swear I just… I don’t know, I like our fights.”
Kevin could’ve sworn his heart was in his throat when your eyes met his, your lips curved into a soft smile. “I do too, let’s just maybe keep them fair, yeah?”
“…yeah. Yeah I can do that.”
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#22 Yuki Tsunoda
Hate wasn’t a strong enough word for how Yuki felt about you - you were arrogant, smarmy and you looked at him like he was the dirt on the bottom of your shoe. You didn’t even consider him a rival, your car was leagues above his - but whenever you found yourself behind him after a pit stop, he suddenly had the widest car on the grid.
You’d got on the podium, like always, but that didn’t stop steam coming out of your ears as you approached him after the race. “Why do you race me so hard? Your fight isn’t with me… I could’ve won the race if you had an inkling of sportsmanship.”
He shrugged, taking a sip out of his bottle. “If you were as good as you said you were, I wouldn’t be a problem.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re infuriating. Stay in your lane, yeah?”
Yuki placed his bottle down on the nearby wall and began to pat his pockets before sighing dramatically. “Oops, it seems like I’m out of fucks to give.”
Your jaw was practically on the floor as he grabbed his drink and walked away, unable to help the smile on his face - he’d won this round.
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#23 Alex Albon
“Hey…”
You looked up from the spot on the floor you were staring at to see Alex standing over you, pity written all over his face. He sat on the ground beside you, bending one knee as you hugged yours to your chest. “What are you doing here?”
“Not sure, I came to see if you are alright, I guess.” He looked at you, noticing your reddened eyes and sniffling nose.
You frowned. “Why do you even care?”
“I may not like you, but I’m not heartless.” His voice was softer this time. “What that reporter said was over the line, the incident wasn’t even your fault.”
“Might want to pass that along to your best mate, he seems to think it was,” you sniffled, wiping your eyes before any more tears could spill. “…I don’t need you to feel sorry for me, Alex.”
“It don’t, I swear.” He held his hands up defensively, cracking a small smile. “It was a shit thing for them to say and I just want you to know that they’re wrong.”
You looked at him properly, eyes flickering across his features for even a hint that he was talking shit - but he genuinely looked concerned, so you gave him a gentle albeit slightly forced smile. “I’ll be okay, you can go back to being a dickhead.”
He rolled his eyes playfully, giving you a gentle shove on the shoulder making you laugh softly. “Says you… if you need a vent, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
“…thank you, genuinely,” you practically whispered.
You tensed up as he gave your knee a gentle squeeze before standing up, leaving you with your own thoughts - surprised at the affectionate gesture but unable to help the way you had enjoyed it.
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#24 Zhou Guanyu
He held his phone in his hands - Nico Hulkenberg to join Sauber in 2025 - but in whose seat? Carelessly, he tossed his phone onto the sofa and groaned into his hands. He knew he had the talent, he was capable, but Alfa Romeo-Sauber had just never given him the car to back him up.
“Hey, so they want you in the media pen in-“ You stopped talking when you saw his defeated stature - head in his hands. “You okay?”
When you were assigned to him as his PR manager at the start of the year, he was desperate for you to like him - but you quickly made it clear you were only here for the cheque. You were blunt, professional and didn’t like to waste a second being personal with him.
“You know about Hulkenberg?” His voice was quiet, refusing to meet your eyes.
You gently sat beside him on the sofa, tucking your notepad into your bag. “No… but I’m sure it’ll work out for you.”
“I don’t need your pity.”
“I know.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it was definitely pitiful. “But I need you to wipe the miserable look off of your face and get down to the pen. I’ve got work to do so… chin up or whatever. You’ve got 5 minutes.”
You didn’t even look at him as you left the room - reminding him that you just didn’t care.
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#31 Esteban Ocon
Your relationship with Esteban wasn't always strained - in fact, when you first met him, you genuinely enjoyed his company. But when he took it upon himself to push your attention to the side to make way for that of younger, prettier girls, you realised he was no different from the others and any positive feelings you had faded.
It definitely didn’t make your job any easier - more often than not, you would be checking your watch as he chatted away. You just wanted to knock some sense into him, remind him that he had a job to do.
“Got somewhere to be?” he practically snorted, as you checked your phone for what must have been the 10th time.
“No seriously, take your time,” you scowled, “Hell’s happy to wait for you, but waste another second of my time and it won't have to.”
He gave the girl he was chatting to a sideways look before finally following you - his hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets like a mopey teenager. You could see him considering conversation with you out of the corner of your eye but you tried to focus ahead - not giving him the time of day.
“What happened to us?” His voice was quiet, but you weren’t going to let him get away with it.
“You happened. You decided I wasn’t worth your time anymore, so I’m not going to let you waste mine,” you huffed.
You flinched as he took your bicep in his hand - making you look up at him with a face of what Esteban could only describe as disgust. He didn’t blame you for disliking him, but he could feel you really slipping away and he didn’t want that to happen.
He squeezed your arm, holding you far too close for comfort - his eyes boring into yours. “Can you just let me explain my side?”
You tore your arm from his grip, scowling even further. “Just leave me alone to do my job, Esteban or so help me god I’ll have them pair you with the shittiest intern for the rest of the season.”
He swallowed heavily and nodded - you weren’t expecting him to put up a fight, but still felt the same disappointment you swore you’d never let him make you feel again.
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#44 Lewis Hamilton
His hands felt like fire across your body, tracing every inch of your exposed skin as he hauled you in close - you had no idea how you got yourself in this predicament. The man in question was the bane of your existence - every second of the season was spent scrapping with him for the top spot - whether it was on or off track there was nothing but venom between the two of you.
So how you ended up with him in your apartment, hands pushing up the sides of your dress - you didn’t know but you couldn’t get enough. You groaned as his lips met the pulse point on your neck, fingers wound in the expensive fabric of his shirt.
You could feel him smirk against you as a moan escaped you. “God, I fucking hate you, Lewis.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, really.”
He chuckled deeply, slotting his knee between your thighs to haul you in closer - pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, pupils blown with lust. Your breath hitched as his thumb brushed across your lip. “Lying doesn’t suit you, sweetheart.”
Before you could call him out, he pressed his lips against yours once again - strong hands cupping your face, allowing your knees to buckle a little. Your breath was stolen away as he pulled back, dark eyes flickering across your face for any more signs of protest, smirking when he saw none - you willingly let him guide you down onto your knees, hand cupping under your jaw - a smug smile on his face.
“Now,” he hummed, pressing his thumb between your lips to part them, “why don’t you be good… and use that mouth for something else instead. Hmm?”
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#55 Carlos Sainz
You were the last person Carlos expected to see when he opened the door to his apartment - any good person would ask if you were okay, but he simply smirked and leant against the doorframe.
“Shut up,” you scolded, pushing past him to step into his place, furiously wiping the tears away from your cheeks.
“Look who’s running back into my arms,” he cooed patronisingly, catching your jacket as you threw it at him. “I told you that I’m irresistible, didn't I?”
“Maybe that’s not why I’m here.”
Carlos chuckled darkly, tossing your jacket to the side so he could take your hips in his hands. “Hermosa, you were supposed to be on a date tonight but yet you’re here with me. I think that’s exactly why you are here.”
Your eyes were wet with tears when you finally met his gaze, but it didn’t even phase him as he slowly stepped you backwards - further into his place.
“So, tell me - what do you want?” He purred softly, brushing a thumb across your cheek to wipe away an escaped tear. “Need me to take care of you, hmm? Help you forget all about that idiot that wasted your time?”
You nodded, unable to speak as he hauled your shirt over your head when the two of you reached his bedroom.
“You sound pretty hot when you shut up, cariño,” he laughed, pushing you against the bed, “but I prefer the pretty noises you make when I have my way with you, let’s hear them.”
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#63 George Russell
You narrowed your eyes playfully at George as the two of you bickered about who would win in a fight between you and Roscoe. “He’s literally a dog, George. Who loves me, might I add.”
“Which is why he’d beat you. Because you’d go too easy on him,” he teased, his arm draped lazily across your shoulder - the two of you sat outside Mercedes hospitality together. “One look from those sad little eyes and you’d wave the white flag.”
He laughed softly as you jut out your bottom lip before leaning in to kiss you softly. George couldn’t believe his luck that not only you wanted to be seen with him but that you loved him. As kids, hell, up until your early 20s, the two of you were non-stop arguing - constantly having to be separated by your mutual friends. But it all changed when you witnessed the crash at Silverstone in ‘22; the way he leapt out of his car with no hesitation to try and help made your heart soar.
“You know…” you hummed softly, “I still don’t really know why I used to despise you.”
George smiled. “I genuinely don't remember. But, it got us here… and I’m quite happy here, aren’t you?”
It was your turn to kiss him. “Happier than I’ve ever been.”
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#77 Valtteri Bottas
Infuriated wasn’t a strong enough word for how you were feeling as Valtteri stood in front of you, practically red in the face as he scolded you for yet something else that wasn’t your fault. You weren’t sure why he disliked you, but from day one with Alfa Romeo, he’d treated you differently from everyone else.
But today, you’d had enough.
“That data could’ve helped me get some points for once, don’t you understand how important it is that-“
“The world could really use some of your famous silence right now,” you cut him off, not regretting it for a moment when you saw his jaw tick. “Have you maybe considered that getting that data… is not my job? Making sure you’ve got a clean kit is not my job. For god’s sake Valtteri, do you even know what my job is?”
His eyes widened. “You… you’re uh-“
“Exactly. So do me a favour, and just take a big fucking step back and reevaluate,” you hissed. “Because I’m out.”
“You’re out?” He frowned.
“I’m going to another team. Effective immediately, that’s what I came to tell you, so you won’t have to deal with my so-called incompetence anymore.”
Valterri just stared at you like he’d seen a ghost, and not willing to wait for anymore scathing comments - you turned on your heel and left, leaving the driver to question every single time he’d scolded you.
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#81 Oscar Piastri
You lay in the medical centre, bright fluorescent lights certainly not helping your headache. It wasn’t a big crash, but you’d still ended up with a nasty case of whiplash - your ears still ringing. As the door swung open, you expected to see the medic, ready to let you go home, but it was in fact Oscar… holding flowers?
“Any time something bad happens to me, you’ve always been there,” he spoke, no anger in his voice - in fact, it almost seemed teasing. “Are you cursing me or something?”
“Not my fault you’re always in my way,” you replied, surprising both Oscar and yourself when you matched his tone. “Flowers?”
“Uh… yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “It looked like a pretty nasty ding you took out there, so I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
Oscar’s heart raced with anticipation as you took the bouquet from him, just waiting for you to throw them back in his face. For some reason, despite being the most chilled driver on track, you really got under his skin - and, he hated the cliche of it, but seeing you struggle to get out of your car made him realise - it wasn’t hatred, he had feelings.
"They’re lovely, thank you.” You smiled, genuinely smiled at him. “Are you doing alright?”
He waved off your concern. “Yeah, I’m fine. I think you took the worst of it… say, uhm, can I take you out to dinner to apologise?”
You tilted your head. “You’re actually taking the blame for the crash? Oscar-“
“Please.”
You bit your lip, letting yourself study his face for a moment - his usual calm expression was replaced with something you didn’t recognise. “Yeah, okay, I’d like that.”
His smile alone was worth it - you don’t think you’d ever seen it directed at you, and it felt good.
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Hope you enjoyed 🥰
#f1 fic#f1 x reader#f1 x you#x reader#f1 angst#max verstappen x reader#logan sargent x reader#daniel ricciardo x reader#lando norris x reader#Pierre gasly x reader#Fernando Alonso x reader#Charles leclerc x reader#lance stroll x reader#Yuki tsunoda x reader#kevin magnussen x reader#Alex Albon x reader#Zhou Guanyu x reader#Esteban Ocon x reader#Lewis Hamilton x reader#Carlos Sainz x reader#George Russell x reader#Valtteri Bottas x reader#Oscar Piastri x reader
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tired
paring: Joel Miller x f!reader
rating: explicit
warnings: explicit sexual content, unspecified age gap, reader has hair that you can run your fingers through, no use of Y/N, UNEDITED
a/n: fully inspired by this post @bonezone44 dared to put out so i thank them for basically punching me out of the no-writing period of my life <3 and also thank you to people who've been tagging me in multiple wip challenges and fic games, especially @milla-frenchy and @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog <3 you reminded me that i was indeed an author a million years ago
word count: 2.6k
masterlist
Joel was tired. His back was hurting from helping Tommy fix up his roof, his knees were aching from climbing up and down that goddamn ladder that he could swore was ready to break at any second. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a night where he could just relax. Throw his body somewhere in his house and have someone take care of it.
Now that Ellie was building her adult life with Dina, their place - his place - now felt like just a roof over his head, all the homeyness gone with the girl that almost single-handedly owned his sharp and rusty heart.
Joel squeezed his eyes shut, dry fingertips running over the lids. He did not want to go home and fall asleep on the couch, cursing everything the world stands on the next morning when he needs to fight the tears of pain with every back spasm he gets. No, he needed someone to take care of him, to give him something good, god knows he’s given these people more than enough over these past years. But, Joel sighed to himself, scrunching his nose as his eyes fell on the dirty knees of his jeans, he was not in shape of wining and dining women tonight.
That’s what you need casual connections for, old idiot, he chuckled to himself, remembering a few times he had to spell it out for some ladies that he wasn’t interested.
You practically jumped on a stool next to him while he was still considering his options.
“Hey, Joel, long night?”
Of course you’d be the first to ask about his day. Little miss sunshine. Well, at least that’s what he thought at first, before seeing you mercilessly killing a couple of infected villagers that weren’t careful enough on the patrol. Still, you were as syrupy sweet as honey on a fresh batch of pancakes when it came to him. The only one who didn’t cringe when he said his firm “no, thanks”. The only one who didn’t actually take his no for an answer.
You never actually threw yourself at him, but Joel learned what desire looks like and you were too young to learn how to mask it properly.
“Hey, kid.” He nodded, he knew how much you hated the nickname because it put even a bigger barrier between the two of you.
“Told you not to call me that, I’m only—“
“Twenty something years younger than me? Yeah.”
He saw your lips hiding in a thin line, your unbreakable spirit was too fragile when it came to him. Joel must’ve gone soft, or insane, because he nudged your shoulder with his, making you lift your head up and look him in the eyes.
“Tommy’s roof’s been a pain in the ass to fix. It’d be easier to burn that place down and build a new one, but my brother is as stubborn as them mules he’s been dreaming to have.”
You huffed a laugh, palm squeezing the slippery glass that was now empty a little too hard. “You know,” you started, shyness verging with hope that you tried to sheath with a nonchalant tone. Joel knew. And for the first time in years he actually contemplated, nodding to you to continue. “I could help you relax, I sometimes give massages in the hospital. It can really help with back pain.”
He purposefully kept silent, looking you in the eyes and trying to make you go back on your proposal. But as he knew already, you were no less stubborn than his little brother. It was karma or something that the only people that were semi-constant in his life were the ones who’d rather kiss an infected than give up.
Joel wasn’t exactly tortured with his conscience, he didn’t seduce you, and most of the old world morals have died already, so the age gap the size of an adult child didn’t bother him either. He was almost glad you tried again, he just needs to make sure you know it’s not something it isn’t.
“Yeah, my back’s been hurtin’ pretty bad today.” He finished his drink not tearing his eyes off you, and then he slowly let them trace your lips, the naked expanse of your neck that you showed off by unbuttoning a couple of buttons on your shirt. He looked lower, noticing your breasts rise and fall faster under his unmasked gaze.
“Wanna go now?” Your voice was breathless like you’d just ran a marathon. He wondered how you’d sound later tonight.
“Sure, darlin’. Lead the way.”
You never said anything when Joel strode past the hospital shack, not even slowing his pace. He was saying something about the roof again but it was hard to understand through the blood pumping jungle beats in your ears.
You kept nodding and humming in agreement, though you couldn’t quite process the words. As you followed him, the anticipation gnawed at you, every step closer tightening the knot in your stomach. You knew he was taking you home, well, he was taking you to his house, and you went too slow for the amount of times that you dreamed to step over his doorstep. Joel's house was small and dimly lit, for some reason it was exactly how you imagined it: homey in spite of the circumstances. Joel took off his jacket silently, the faint smell of cedar and something musky filled the air, mingling with his earthy scent. He turned to face you, those piercing eyes locking onto yours.
“You gonna give me a massage wearing this?” He pointed at the warm coat you put on in a hurry as you were leaving the bar. Your fingers stumbled over each other as you tried to open the buttons of the damn thing. You felt a flush of warmth rise to your cheeks under his scrutiny.
Your fingers touched as you gave him your coat, but there was no electricity, his fingers were rough and scratched your skin, your palm became sweaty and you hurried to wipe it on your jeans when he didn’t look.
“Let’s go, bedroom’s upstairs,” his voice was low and calm, somehow its vibrations helped you settle, grounded you. You gave him a quick smile and followed his broad figure. Every stair squeaked under his heavy footsteps, you looked like a mouse that was chasing a bear. Willingly. The bedroom door creaked open to reveal a space just as humble as the rest of the house. A couple of drawings in handmade frames, a chair with a pair of pants on it, and the bed. Your eyes were glued to it. The bed and its tangled sheets seemed inviting, though a wave of nerves prickled your spine. ‘You’re here to give him a massage, don’t get ahead of yourself’ you thought, teeth sinking in your lower lip. You weren’t too young or naive to think that a massage was all this night would end with, but such a quick change of heart in Joel made you doubt your every breath.
When you brought your eyes back to the man you saw him studying you, you could swear a nervous tick clenched his jaw but you didn’t let yourself ponder on it.
“I’m gonna rip the bandaid off and say it as it is, okay, pretty girl?”
Your breath hitched. Joel stepped closer, his eyes steadily holding yours. You nodded, not trusting your voice. His gaze was intense, making your heart hammer loudly enough to be heard.
"Massage ain’t exactly the thing I took ya here for,” Joel admitted, eyes dark, voice raw with honesty. “If you catch my drift.”
“I…” You cleared your throat, you wanted to look confident, or at least not scared. You’ve wanted to get into this man’s bed for months now, imagined how and when and what, and now that it happens you can barely squeeze out a, “yeah, of course I do.”
Joel smiled, one of his hands flying to cup your jaw as he brought his lips closer to yours and you closed your eyes in anticipation of his soft skin on yours. “Good girl,” the remnants of his wet breath stained your lips.
As quickly as he came at you, he left. His pace was languid when he worked on taking off his jeans, leaving himself in a ridiculous attire of a flannel shirt, a t-shirt underneath and simple cotton boxers.
You bit your lip, suppressing a giggle at the sight. His eyes snagged on your smile, sharpening with mischief. Joel raised an eyebrow, catching your amusement. “What’s so funny, darlin’?”
“Nothing,” your cheeks felt extra hot and you were glad for the poor lighting in the bedroom. “Lay on your back, please. As I said before, I’d like to help you relax.”
Joel held your gaze for a hot minute, but then silently followed your order. “I’d maybe argue any other day, but not now, sweetheart. Today I’ll take all the care I can get,” he smiled, but you missed the warm gesture. He laid back, his head hitting the pillow, long curls that he had left to grow splayed around the back of his head. You were too focused, letting your hands wander over his chest, feeling the texture of his shirt and the years of safer life that he was hiding underneath had grown out brushing against the fabric. You moved your fingers lightly over his chest, watching his eyes flutter closed.
His hands blindly found yours, hardened blisters of his palms scraped your soft skin, and he pushed your hands lower, somewhere you didn’t dare look for too long.
“Don’t be shy, babygirl,” he muttered with his eyes still closed. You let him guide you. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the rigidity slowly melting away under your touch.
You remembered him talking about ripping a bandage off, so you followed his philosophy, hooking your fingers under the elastic of his boxers and tugging the material down. As the cool air grazed his skin, he released a slow, shuddering breath. It felt like something forced you to lift your head up, you met his gaze and saw a flicker of softness and gratefulness in his eyes.
“This okay?” You whispered, hands already exploring the places your eyes were too shy to inspect.
“More than,” Joel’s voice was calm, breathing barely indicating the intimate setting you were in. His eyes fell shut again and a part of you thought that was only to give you more freedom, save you from his scrutiny. You noticed the slight hitch in his breath with each new touch, his body responding to your feathery strokes.
When your fingertips grazed the hot skin covered in coarse hair you couldn’t help but look. Even in half darkness it was easy to see that Joel was well-endowed and eager. His cock laid on the pillow of his pubic hair, the shaft slightly curved. Pink tip was glistening with precum and you wondered if you got him excited or the promise of future pleasure. Your left hand was resting on his hip when as if hypnotized you traced your index finger from his tip to where his base was covered in sparse graying curls.
Joel’s cock jumped to attention, twitching under your light touch, prompting you to close your fist around it which you immediately did. With the first tug on the velvety soft skin both of you released a moan.
“Spit on it, baby, make it wet,” Joel’s voice was relaxed, as if you put your hand on a muscle that was aching for days and relieved the pain.
Your short nails dug into his hip when you started contemplating how to do it. You weren’t completely innocent, far from it, but somehow you could count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times you needed to spit during sex. Deciding against spitting in your own palm, you took a different position, scooting lower down the bed and hunching over Joel’s waiting cock. The moment the smell of his skin and sweat hit your nose it was like you were intoxicated. Your lips closed around his flushed tip, tongue diving to get more of his taste. Both of your hands settled on his hips, either to hold him down or find balance. You abandoned the idea of spitting, the thought of not having his cock in your mouth almost pained you. It was like this was the grand finale of your romantic labor. Here, on your knees between the legs of a man who was holding you at arm's length for the longest time. It shouldn’t have felt so good, but it did. Taking care of him, even in this basic, primal way, felt like taking care of yourself.
Your wet mouth slid further down, the thick shaft of Joel’s cock stretching your lips. It took you a moment to realize Joel’s hands were in your hair. For a moment you thought he wanted you to stop, you even started to lift off, but the firm pressure of his hand on your head made it clear that he wasn’t against this turn of events. You let yourself build up to a comfortable taste, exploring each centimeter of his skin in your mouth, the way a couple of veins bulged under your tongue, the ridge of the head pushing further in your throat. You didn’t hurry and neither did he. You savored the slow rhythm of push and pull, letting him go deeper with every thrust.
One of his hands left your head and you raised your eyes to Joel’s face, mouth still very occupied with his cock. He must have felt it, because he barely lifted his head off the pillow, stray curls sticking to his sweaty forehead and you could swear you saw him wink at you before he laid his head back, using the freed hand to tuck away long strands of hair behind his ear.
The picture of this man, always so rough and guarded, finally relaxing under your touch and shedding the years of hostility made you drunker than any booze Tommy could’ve offered. Your movements became faster, saliva dripping down his cock and making it glisten. You felt Joel’s hips tense under your palms and you didn’t even need to hear the shameless moans drowned by your excitement and the sloppy wet sounds to know he was close.
“Doin’ good for me, baby, doin’ real good,” he groaned as you felt the tip of his cock punch the back of your throat repeatedly. Your eyes watered, but you admitted to yourself that you would rather suffocate and die than let the cock of this man out of your mouth. Your jaw was aching, the pleasurable pain that said how good of a job you did.
The shaft under your tongue felt even harder, a loaded gun pressing on your tongue and you couldn’t wait for it to shoot.
Both of Joel’s hands returned to your head pressing you into his skin so hard that little hairs tickled your nose and your vision started to go blurry.
His load was salty and thick, you felt it slide down your throat like lava, burning you from the inside. Barely catching your breath you sat straight, watching closely how Joel’s chest rose and fell following his erratic breathing. There was an indecent amount of wetness gathered in the gusset of your panties and by the look on Joel’s face you knew you’d have to handle it yourself.
“Feeling good?” Your voice sounded weird, hoarse and raspy in the gritty silence of the room.
“You’re really good at massage, darlin’, I’m more relaxed than the day I was born,” Joel held his gaze on you, using his shoulder to scratch the underside of his jaw. You took it as your key to leave, after all, you never agreed to anything more.
Joel’s voice stopped you with one foot over the doorstep.
“Maybe I could return the favor some time.”
#iamasaddie fic#joel miller x reader#Joel miller x f!reader#joel miller smut#pedro pascal fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#joel miller x you
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nothing happened in the way i wanted part 1
author's note: okay so let it be known that my FAV emily henry book is happy place (if you want a deep dive into my personality, if you want to know the inner workings of my mind, read the book) SO with that being said, this fic was inspired by that masterpiece. plus i've fallen down a matt rabbit hole as of late. just a warning, this is a LONG ass fic (74 pages and 30.3k words, not a brag, i kinda regret that it's this long bc my brain hurts) so pace yourselves okay? thank you for being the kindest people ever!! this is finished, but tumblr said what i wrote is too long. so i'm posting it in parts lolol.
summary: a year has passed and you are no closer to understanding why matt ended things and you have every plan of avoiding that thought until he comes back in town for the offseason, then suddenly he's everywhere.
pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader
warnings: ANGST, friends to lovers to exes to lovers, mention of sexual assault, attempted sexual assault, drinking, depression, panic attacks, let me know if i missed something!
after
despite being back in st. louis for six months, summer still felt like it came too fast. your thighs started sticking to the seats from sweat about three weeks ago. summer used to be your favorite season because it meant you had unlimited access to the love of your life, you weren’t sharing him with his teammates or his crazy schedule.
but he wasn’t yours anymore. matthew hadn’t been yours in six months and some change.
the second you entered your parents’ home, you tossed your keys into the bowl and slid your shoes off. it’d been six months since you moved home, and it still didn’t feel like a space where you belonged. you walked into the living room without so much as a hello from either of your parents, both of whom were posted up on the couch. they weren’t talking to each other, just letting the noise from the news fill the room instead of conversation.
“hey,” you greeted, plopping down in the recliner.
“how was work?” your mom asked.
you shrugged, not quite having the words to convey how mundane it had been. you were working on restoring a piece for this rich couple who lived in the same neighborhood as the tkachuks. it wasn’t in too bad of shape, given the fact that you were the one entrusted to work on it. if it was actually something incredibly complicated, your boss would’ve found someone else more experienced to do it.
when you entered art restoration and conservation, you thought it would be mindless. art had always been an escape for you, a chance to remove yourself from your racing thoughts. you thought that by entering the art conservation field, you could add onto something, enhance the beauty that was lost over the years of damage, instead of creating something from your own experiences.
but no one told you how hard it would be after your breakup, that you would have to learn how to pour bottles of chemical solvent into a glass when your eyes were blurring with tears. no one said anything about how you would spend hours hunched over, fixing the problems in paintings that only served to remind you that while you could mend a masterpiece, you were unable to stop and patch up the problems in your relationship. no one spoke about how you would inevitably relate to the paintings that came to you in shambles, the only difference being that clients would pay thousands of dollars for their paintings to be restored to their former glory, your ex let you fall apart alone in a city where you had no friends outside of the ones you’d made through him.
but how could you communicate that to your mother? to your father? both of whom stayed in an unhappy marriage for the sake of optics? how could you tell them that it’s been months and you were still no more over your ex than the day it ended? how could they understand you? they stayed together out of convenience, out of a fear of ending their marriage only to never find someone else.
it had been six months since your relationship ended, and you were no closer to understanding why.
“just a mundane day,” was all you said instead. “nothing to write home about.”
both of your parents hummed.
“did you have dinner already?” you asked.
“was gonna order pizza,” your dad said.
your mother scoffed and rolled her eyes. “no alan, we had plans to see chantal and keith tonight for dinner.”
you wanted to throw up.
you weren’t sure what you were expecting, maybe some loyalty from your parents? though, they weren’t fully privy to all the information about the demise of your relationship with matt, so maybe you couldn’t expect them to stop hanging out with his parents, especially when said parents were such great people.
“oh,” was all you could say.
“you’re more than welcome to order takeout and watch a movie,” your mom commented, like you needed permission to make yourself at home when you were actively living there. “i’m sure ronald would appreciate your company.”
you glanced at the tabby cat who was perched on his cat tree. personally, you had no issue with ronald, but he liked your mom and your mom only. though on occasion, he would allow your dad to pet him.
“i’ll figure something out,” you said.
your mom hummed before she stood up to go get ready while your father stayed on the couch. it was only another ten minutes before he got up to change quickly, and another five before they left the house without so much as a goodbye.
before
you were incredibly aware that you didn’t quite fit in. your mom drove you to school in a beat up 1997 toyota camry which looked incredibly out of place among the bmws and audis. your mom offered to walk you in, but she was wearing her scrubs from her night shift and her face looked tired, so you declined the offer and got out of the car yourself.
it shouldn’t have been as daunting as it was, but your old school wasn’t as prestigious as this one. your previous schools in cedar rapids had been public schools. no one was wearing a uniform, and most of the backpacks worn came from the same walmart in your old neighborhood.
but your parents had decided they wanted a better education for you, even if neither of them had the money to fork out thousands of dollars for a private school. your mom’s parents, however, were loaded. they were more than willing to fork out a small fortune for your schooling under the conditions of your family uprooting your lives to missouri. you were too young to realize what a sacrifice that was, you didn’t notice the snide comments your grandparents made about your father’s choice of career or your mother’s choice in husband.
you didn’t see your grandparents any more than you usually did since you’d moved to missouri two weeks ago. they’d been out of town on a trip to rome up until three days ago and hadn’t reached out to have dinner or hang out at all.
not that you cared at the age of nine, you were more focused on unpacking your room. but now that you were standing in front of the giant school alone, you felt like you should’ve been more concerned with how nice your school supplies were.
a kind woman greeted you at the entrance of the school. she smiled and introduced herself, though you couldn’t hear her over the roaring in your ears. she stood next to a blond haired blue eyed boy who was your height.
“are your parents here?” you weren’t sure how you heard her over the noise in your head.
you shook your head. “my mom had to go home and my dad is at work.”
the woman blinked. “is today your first day?”
“mom, it’s everyone’s first day of school,” the boy groaned.
“i wasn’t talking to you, matthew,” she said, though her eyes never left your own.
“i just moved here,” was all you said, albeit a bit quietly.
“well, you can walk in with us.” She placed a warm hand on your back and ushered you inside next to her son.
you took notice of her nicer clothing compared to your mom’s scrubs or your dad’s tattered khakis, though the woman’s clothing wasn’t as ostentatious as other parents’.
“do you know your teacher’s name?” the woman asked.
you nodded and showed her the crumpled paper in your hand. the night before, you were wracked with nerves and wrote your teacher’s on a blank sheet of paper and doodled around it. even at nine years old, you were concerned that you’d somehow forget. you couldn’t be more grateful for it now.
the woman’s face lit up. “oh how lucky! matthew look! you’re in the same class.”
matthew for his part, tried to look happy about it, but his eyes kept wandering to the hallways, like he was looking for people he knew. you felt bad for even being in this situation. you missed your friends from iowa and the light up shoes you used to wear before you were given a uniform.
matthew’s mom pointed out the classroom that was supposed to be yours and walked both you and matthew into the room. unlike her son, who immediately found his friends to do elaborate handshakes with, you stayed by her side. she was a stranger, sure, but she was more comforting that the classroom of fifteen other nine and ten year olds.
the woman sighed and bent down a little to look you in the eyes. “it’s gonna be a good day, sweetheart,” she said. “mr. terry is a great teacher, he’s really kind.” you weren’t sure how she would know that, but you weren’t going to call her a liar. “and if you need anything, ask matthew. he’s been going here since kindergarten, okay?”
you nodded.
mr. terry walked over and introduced himself. he had dark skin and a bright smile, showing you to your seat. your name was on a card with fun stickers on it. next to your seat, you saw matthew’s name. now it wasn’t necessarily an unpopular name, there were three matthews in your third grade class, so you weren’t holding out hope that it was going to be the matthew you walked into class with. but two minutes later, he was plopping down into the seat to your left.
matthew looked almost startled to see you sitting next to him, but when the shock wore off he gave you a crooked smile and stuck his hand out. “i’m matt,” he said, like you two didn’t walk into class together.
you shook his hand anyway and gave him a shy smile and told him your name, just in case he didn’t see it written on your desk.
if it was even possible, his smile widened. “pretty name,” he said.
after
you’d watched a movie and half of another one by the time your parents walked through the front door. ronald jumped off the couch to greet your mother while he ignored your father.
“oh,” your dad said. “you’re still up.”
“i’m about to go to bed,” you replied, though you didn’t move from the couch.
“dinner was great,” your mom commented. “chantal and keith said to tell you hello.”
your gut twisted at the mention of their names. you loved his family, you really did, but the mention of the family that was almost yours stung when you looked at how your parents acted like roommates on the best of days.
you remembered summer days spent in the tkachuks’ backyard, watching as matt and brady chased each other while taryn tried her best to keep up. you remembered your dad picking you up from their house, and how you begged the entire ride home for a little brother or sister. he looked at your through the rearview mirror and said “we already achieved perfection, why mess that up?”
but you were grown now. you saw how their marriage barely survived raising you, and they were probably being smart by not risking your upbringing just to have another child.
you bid your parents goodnight and headed up the stairs to your childhood bedroom. it looked less like the office it was converted into when you moved out originally. you didn’t fault your parents for taking advantage of your absence, you, like many people your age, had zero intentions of ever moving back in until an unfortunate set of circumstances happened to you.
and that’s what life had felt like lately:
unfortunate.
unfortunate shit just happening to you.
it wasn't late by any means, but you were surprised when your phone vibrated with a text message. maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t really befriended anyone since moving back that had you flinching at the shock of someone other than your parents (or grandparents) texting you.
you unlocked your phone and opened the message, sighing when you read its contents.
emma:
hey girl! just checking in to see if you’re still good for this weekend? no worries if you can’t make it!
you dropped the phone on your stomach and groaned into your hands as soon as they made contact with your face.
years of dating matthew meant you’d grown closer to brady and taryn and by proxy, brady’s fiancée, emma. you’d already committed to being a bridesmaid and bought the dress before your relationship with matt ended. when emma found out, she called immediately and gave you an out, said she wouldn’t take it personal, that she understood if it would be too hard.
but you remembered the countless conversations had about planning your weddings while the both of you watched the loves of your lives try not to kill each other from your spots on the back porch. and you could hear it in her voice, how much it meant to her that you would be there even if she didn’t want to push it on you. it didn’t matter that only one of you was getting the wedding you planned. the bets made on who’d get married first were obsolete now.
you wanted to text her back and say you were busy, but you hadn’t seen her much since her and brady came back in town. when the senators’ season ended in april, he and emma spent some time with her family and attended the playoff games for the panthers. now that the panthers’ season ended two weeks ago, all of the tkachuks were back in town which used to excite you.
now it just filled you with dread.
no, it’s not like you lived in the same tax bracket as matt’s family. you didn’t go to the same grocery stores unless you were tagging along. no, there was a comfortable distance between your neighborhoods and st. louis was filled with two million other people that the odds of running into him were slim.
but your anxiety preferred zero odds rather than a slight chance, and it made the logic that was once screaming at you sound like a small whisper.
you sucked it up anyway, though. seeing emma and the other bridesmaids was better than staying in your room and staring at the ceiling.
you:
i’ll be there! can’t wait!!!
and maybe you used too many exclamation points. maybe you were trying too hard to prove something no one would believe if they took longer than a split second glance at your face. you were a horrible liar, that hadn’t changed. you were just hoping by the time the weekend came around, you’d be too busy to focus on any of the pain.
before
the summer after keith retired, the tkachuks took you and your family on vacation with them to turks and caicos. your parents were stressed initially about the trip, but you were filled with nothing but excitement at leaving the landlocked state you called home.
missouri had slowly wormed its way into your heart. when your family moved, there was never a thought in your mind that you would ever come to love it like you did with cedar rapids. there was no way you’d ever consider this place your home. but then you met the tkachuks.
it’d been nearly three years since you’d first sat in that seat next to your best friend in mr. terry’s fourth grade class. now, you were splashing around in the waves with matt and brady while your parents looked from the shore.
school had been different the past two years, with matthew going to an all boys school after fifth grade while you stayed. it took some adjusting to being without him the entire school day. you didn’t want to think of yourself as codependent, or clingy, but mat was your best friend. it was an adjustment, having to make new friends in the same school.
now that wasn’t to say that you never saw matt. after your initial introductions, chantal offered to take you to and from school if your mom or dad dropped you off at their house in the morning. both of your parents jumped at the idea. your mother, who worked as a night shift ICU nurse, reveled in being able to go home and go straight to sleep. your father, whose job as an electrician required him to be on job sites early in the morning, didn’t mind it either, he had to be up early anyway.
and sure, you had to wake up earlier than you used to, but you got to eat breakfast and pretend like you were a tkachuk most days of the week (with the exception of the days your mom was off). keith would ruffle your hair as he passed you in the kitchen. taryn would race matthew for the seat next to yours.
the tkachuks felt more like your family than your own some days.
especially now when your parents went on a date that keith and chantal paid for while they stayed back at the beach house with you and their children.
all six of you were seated around the coffee table with the game of life laid out in front of you. the evening started out with a game of uno, but that game got out of hand quickly. it took brady reversing the order and hitting matt with a draw four before your best friend lunged over the table to tackle his brother. while keith broke up the boys, chantal cleaned up uno and instructed you and taryn to pick out the least competitive game you could find.
which is how you ended up playing the game of life.
even though life had to be the least competitive game you knew, matt and brady still managed to argue over it, even going as far to rant about how unfair it was that they had to pay for home insurance. keith and chantal had just chuckled and told them to enjoy childhood while it lasted.
you found yourself smiling and laughing along.
you weren’t quite sure who won, or how anyone ever really wins the game of life, but the moment mattered more. taryn went upstairs with keith to get ready for bed while brady helped his mom in the kitchen pop a bag of popcorn. you and matthew were responsible for cleaning up the game.
“are you having fun?” he asked.
your smile was so wide, it hurt your cheeks. “i’m having the best time. this is by far the best vacation i’ve been on.”
“really?” he smiled.
you nodded emphatically. “most of my family vacations have been spent with my grandparents.”
matt grimaced, already aware of the testy relationship your mom had with her own parents. “when’s the last time you saw them?”
you had to think for a moment, while your grandparents technically lived in st. louis, they were often out of town or ignoring your family’s existence altogether. with the exception of the last saturday of every month, when you and your parents were practically obligated to eat dinner with them. you didn’t notice their judgmental comments when you were younger and mesmerized by the giant dollhouse they bought for you.
but you were older now. you knew that there were terms and conditions attached to the cellphone they bought for you on your twelfth birthday. you heard the disdain in their voices when they talked down to your father and mother for their life choices. you weren’t an idiot, you understood that every compliment they gave you was a way for them to make your parents feel inferior in comparison.
you weren’t a child to them, you were a pawn in a game you never asked to play.
“we saw them about a month ago?” you shrugged. “they’re on vacation until halfway through august.”
matt hummed. “i think we’re gonna visit mom’s parents before school starts back again.”
to your credit, you did your best to look happy for him, even if it meant that you wouldn’t see him for a week and a half. you had other friends in town! in fact, you befriended a girl named simone when you started middle school. maybe you could call her when you get back to st. louis?
evidently, your little act wasn’t convincing enough. matt nudged your shoulder with his. “you’ll be fine,” he said. “you’re probably annoyed from how much time we’ve spent together this summer. you need a break.”
you couldn’t help but smile. “i could never get tired of you, matty.”
he blinked, almost at a loss for words, it felt like. but you should’ve known better, because he was holding up his pinky a beat later. “you promise?”
you locked your fingers together. “promise.”
after
it’s just emma and her friends and taryn, you thought. you already know all of these people. there’s no reason to be stressed out.
which, to be fair, your inner monologue was right. you had absolutely no reason to be standing in front of your closet debating what to wear for as long as you had.
before you could stop yourself, you were hitting emma’s contact and putting your phone on speaker. the dial tone rang out through the room while you waited for her to pick up. you were seconds away from ending the call when her phone sounded through the receiver.
“hey! what’s up?”
you exhaled. “i don’t know what to wear tonight.”
emma said your name through a laugh. “we’re not going anywhere fancy, i swear. it’s just dinner and then we’re going to a bar.”
you frowned. “so taryn’s not joining us after dinner?”
“no, she has other plans after dinner anyway. she said she was meeting up with some friends from high school.” as if she could see the hesitance on your face, emma spoke up again. “but you know all the other girls, it’s not like you’ll be hanging out with strangers.”
and she was right, you were in a groupchat with the other bridesmaids and found all of them to be quite pleasant.
“look, if you’re still stressed about what to wear, just wear jeans.”
“okay, but how nice is this restaurant?” you were rummaging through your closet. “because i’ve worn jeans to restaurants that weren’t supposed to be fancy and i found myself criminally underdressed.”
“yeah well, i’m better at communicating than matt is.” a gasp sounded through the receiver, like emma had just realized what she said. “oh my god, i’m so sorry—”
“it’s fine, you’re not wrong,” you said, forcing out a laugh even as your heart painfully squeezed in your chest.
“i really didn’t mean to,” she sighed. “i’m sorry, that was rude of me to bring up.”
you shook your head even though she couldn’t see you. “it’s fine, emma, i swear,” you said even though there were tears pricking in your eyes. “i’ll have to face the music eventually.”
“still, it was insensitive of me to say that.”
you cleared your throat. “don’t worry about it, i’m a big girl.” you pulled the phone away from your face so you could sniffle for a second without drawing any unnecessary attention. “so jean shorts tonight?” you asked.
there was a brief silence before you heard emma’s soft sigh over the phone. “that sounds perfect.”
before
matthew kissed you for the first time when you were hanging out with mutual friends after school in eighth grade. you’d been dreaming about that moment for years ever since sixth grade when you realized matt was handsome and the flutters in your stomach weren’t just from nerves anymore.
both of you were at your friend morgan’s house sitting in her basement. she happened to live in the same neighborhood as matt. so after school, you rode home with the tkachuks like you always did and then walked to her house.
morgan was the first of your friends to get a boyfriend and she wasn’t shy about telling everyone. it was easy to be jealous of her. while you hadn’t known her as long, your other friends had made it clear she’d garnered male attention since preschool. so there was no surprise that she’d announced at school earlier that week that she was dating someone from matt’s school.
hence the party in the basement.
morgan was the one who suggested truth or dare. she had all ten of you circle up on the carpet and sit criss crossed. you were keenly aware of how matt’s knee was touching your own, you could feel the heat even through your jeans. he was leaning back on his hands, with his right hand directly behind your back,in your delusions, you let yourself pretend he was doing it to be closer to you.
“alright!” morgan cheered. “who wants to start?”
no one said a word.
you made the mistake of looking around when you caught morgan’s eye. at the sight of a growing smirk on her lips, you quickly diverted your gaze.
“c'mon, no one wants to go first?” she hummed. “fine, i’ll go. babe,” she started calling thomas babe a week ago. “ask me, truth or dare?”
the only word you could use to describe the look on thomas’ face was besotted. without hesitating, he asked her the question, smiling when she grinned back at him. morgan chose dare, because she wasn’t “boring and lame.”
thomas dared her to kiss him. there was a collective groan when she leaned over and kissed her boyfriend. the second she pulled back, morgan’s eyes flitted over the rest of the group, looking like a tiger about to pounce. the two of you made eye contact and the corner of her lips raised in a smirk that was gone as quick as it came.
you prepared yourself for the worst, recalling how you let it slip that you have a crush on matt. and morgan, while she wasn’t intentionally cruel, had all but shrieked when you told her. so you didn’t think she’d out you to be mean, you wouldn’t put it past her to attempt matchmaking.
but her eyes skipped right over you and focused on simone. “truth or dare?”
“truth,” simone replied.
morgan rolled her eyes. “nerd,” but she cracked a smile anyway.
the game went on pretty effortlessly, you even got brave enough to do a dare (thankfully morgan never got the opportunity to ask you). it ended with morgan asking matthew. the smirk she had earlier, appeared as she made eye contact with you before setting her sights on your best friend.
“truth or dare?” she asked.
you immediately knew which option he was picking, matt never backed down from a challenge and had been choosing dare all night.
“matthew, i dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.”
your stomach dropped as did your gaze. you couldn’t look anyone in the eye, you didn’t want to see matt kiss another girl, you couldn’t. you wouldn’t do it.
a moment passed when you realized matt hadn’t moved an inch. he was still leaning on his hands, with one stretched behind you. all it took was a quick glance at matt to see him already staring back at you.
“no,” he said, eyes still locked on your face.
morgan blinked. “what?”
it was only then that his eyes left your face to look morgan dead in the eye. “nope. i won’t do it.”
she guffawed. “but you have to!”
matt shrugged. “i don’t want to.”
“but you lose if you don’t!”
he shrugged yet again. “oh well.”
your head snapped up to look at him in confusion. “matt,” you nudged him.
“we gotta go anyway,” he said, before he stood up and reached out to you. you took his hand, albeit hesitantly before he dragged you up the stairs and out of the house onto the street.
a cool breeze was blowing which inadvertently caused you to shiver. matt, who still hadn’t let go of your hand, tugged you further into his side. your heart sank when he dropped your hand, only for it to skyrocket when he threw his arm around you.
“why didn’t you do the dare?” you asked. the curiosity was killing you, even if you believed the real answer would be even worse than not knowing.
matt shrugged like he had been all night. “i didn’t feel like it.”
you blinked at him, staring at his profile while he guided the two of you back to his house. “you’re literally the most competitive person i know. you’ve never intentionally lost a game. last week brady dared you to drink that gallon of milk and run a mile, which, if i must remind you, you threw up not even halfway through.”
matt laughed. “that was funny. but what’s your point?”
“my point is that kissing someone is way less work than running a mile and throwing up. so what’s up?”
he wouldn’t look at you, his gaze fell to the ground where he kicked a rock. “didn’t want it to happen like that.”
you blinked at him, refusing to move your gaze from his profile. “didn’t want what to happen like that? it’s just a kiss.”
he shook his head and stopped walking, grabbing your wrist when you kept moving. matt tugged your arm so you’d turn around and look at him. “it wouldn’t be just a kiss,” he said.
“would it mean more?” you asked, but he didn’t say anything. “matt?” your heart was beating against your chest. your hands shook at the idea of him wanting to kiss someone. you went through the list of people in that room. it wasn’t morgan, he’d told you weeks ago that he didn’t like her like that when you asked. could it be simone? she looked like a goddess on a bad day. her dark skin was flawless and free of blemishes and her faux locs were always perfectly styled. she didn’t even wear makeup on a regular basis.
oh god. did he like simone?
your gut twisted at the idea, of him falling in love with the closest friend you had at school. you could learn to be happy for them, simone was great and matt would adore her if she agreed to go out with him.
you snapped back into it when you felt matt’s thumb rub across your pulse. “matt, would it mean more?”
he shrugged again, still not looking at you, just the part where your hands were joined. “would it be a problem if it did?”
now it was your turn to be confused. “why would my opinion matter? i’m not the one you’d be kissing.”
matt blinked at you once, then twice. “you can’t be serious,” he said.
“what do you mean?”
“you can’t be that blind. there’s no way.”
“matt, what are you talking about?”
he dropped your hand to run both of his over his face and groaned. “there's no way you don’t know.”
“know what?”
matt fixed you with an intense look, one that had you squirming in your shoes a little. in all your years of friendship, you weren’t sure he'd ever stared at you that way before. a hockey game? sure, but you?
“matt what—”
“i like you,” he said as plain as day, like he didn’t just flip your world on its axis.
you blinked, you were pretty sure you stopped breathing. “what?” you whispered.
matt stepped closer to you, close enough that your shoes were touching. “i like you.”
“so why didn’t you kiss me when morgan dared you to?”
“i didn’t want it to happen like that,” he admitted. “didn’t wanna kiss you in front of everybody.”
you could feel the heat travel up your neck and to your cheeks. “and what about now? would you kiss me now?”
“would you let me?”
words failed you, you could only nod. matt hesitated for a moment before pressing his lips to yours. it was clumsy and awkward, and in the middle of the sidewalk two blocks away from his house.
but it was perfect.
after
you ubered to the restaurant before emma could suggest meeting at the tkachuk house. every single one of the bridesmaids knew you and matt were no longer together, all of them banding around you and offering support from thousands of miles away. so you didn’t think any of them would even hint at meeting at the tkachuk residence if they were as considerate as you believed them to be, but you wanted to avoid the sympathetic looks that would be thrown your way.
most of the bridesmaids were there by the time you arrived, the only exception being taryn. the entire table greeted you with bright white smiles, emma stood to give you a hug that you enthusiastically returned.
it felt great to be back in the company of people your age. despite being back in st. louis for quite some time, you still had yet to make any more friends outside of emma and taryn, both of whom you didn’t see that often because of who they were relationally attached to.
unfortunately, you’d lost contact with many of your friends from high school because of the distance. if you could go back, you’d slap yourself in the face for thinking matt was going to stick around longer than simone or morgan.
but how were you to know he would leave and wouldn’t want you to follow him?
you swallowed that question down and took a seat at the table. you sat next to a brunette named stacey, the other seat on your right was left for taryn, you assumed. there were already two bottles of wine sitting in a bucket of ice on the table. part of you considered pouring yourself a glass immediately, but you remembered the plans were dinner first, bar later. so you settled for water.
it was only a matter of maybe ten minutes before taryn was led to your table. you stood up with the rest of the girls and waited your turn to hug her. taryn saved you for last, smiling bright and wide when the two of you finally made eye contact. you squeezed each other tightly as you hugged, unspoken words being communicated.
“now, before anyone looks at the menu, i just wanted to let you know, it’s on brady tonight.” emma held up her hand as mouths began to protest across the table. “he insisted, and we won’t be taking no for an answer.”
and maybe you should’ve protested a little harder to look more sincere, but your job wasn’t paying you well enough to afford a 70 dollar steak and drinks.
the table breaks up into mini conversations while everyone was looking over the menu. you were doing the same when an elbow nudged you from the right. you glanced over at taryn who wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she wanted your attention, it was something you’d always admired about her.
“long time, no see,” she said. but before you could respond, she spoke up again. “how have you been?”
you shrugged and moved your eyes back to the menu to look busy. “nothing has been going on really, just working.” you cleared your throat and hesitantly made eye contact again. “and you? what have you been up to?”
taryn shifted in her seat, a tell you knew was coming. you weren’t a stranger to where she’d been the past few weeks, you still followed her on instagram, you followed all of the tkachuks on instagram, even matt. so you knew she’d just gotten back after the panthers lost in game five of the finals.
you nudged her with your shoulder and gave her a small smile. “it’s okay, i’m not gonna burst into tears if you mention him.”
taryn smiled. “i’m exhausted, we were traveling everywhere for matt it felt like. it was cutting into my workouts.”
your jaw clenched at the mention of his name, mainly to distract you from feeling the ache in your chest, but you kept a pleasant look on your face anyway. “you still have the rest of the summer for your workouts, though. summer’s barely started.”
taryn nodded but she didn’t say anything for a moment. you started to shift in your seat when she reached a hand out and squeezed your own. “i miss you,” she said sincerely. “it hasn’t been the same without you around.”
“taryn...”
“you know, you’re still in, like, most of our family photos hanging on the wall. mom and dad haven’t taken them down.”
you weren’t sure if that made you happy or brought you pain.
“i begged them not to, you’re in too many memories for us to just forget you.” she cleared her throat and looked back at her menu, giving you a break from the sincere staredown the two of you were having. “they ask about you all the time, but they didn’t want to impose, mom especially. said she’d understand if you never wanted to see them again.”
you tried reading the menu through blurry eyes and pinched your lips together so no one would see them tremble. “i’ve been meaning to get coffee with your mom,” you said, though you both knew it was a lie. you’d made yourself scarce for a reason.
“she’d be happy to see you again, she just didn’t want to overstep.”
you nodded, still not looking at the girl you fully believed would be your sister one day. “i’ll text her.”
the waiter came by moments later to take your orders. thankfully, the tears had cleared up out of your eyes. as soon as you’d cleared your throat, you were telling the server your order without your voice shaking.
you bore the grief well, you thought. you laughed when everyone else did, smiled when appropriate, and asked follow up questions. socializing wasn’t hard, years of galas and charity events as matt’s plus one had trained you well for moments like these, so long as you avoided the eyes of taryn and emma, both of whom knew you better than anyone else at the table.
emma paid with brady’s card like she’d promised earlier. unfortunately for you, that’s when the anxiety started to come back. taryn was leaving after dinner, too young to go to the bars with the rest of you, and according to what emma had told you, she had plans with friends.
the group left together, with taryn waving goodbye as the rest of you headed to a bar three blocks away. your hands were shaking, so you shoved them in your pockets to hide the trembling.
it’d get better once you got a few drinks in you, you told yourself. you’d loosen up soon enough.
emma opened a tab with brady’s card and you immediately started going in. the group started with a round of shots, but you were quickly ordering more than just tequila. it was only a matter of time before your vision started lagging and your brain began buffering to keep up with what was happening.
you were on the dance floor, grinding against a stranger, who thankfully, was keeping their hands to themselves, when emma tugged your arm, giggling. “everyone else has left. and i think it’s time for us to go,” she slurred, a giant smile on her face.
you allowed yourself to be tugged away from the stranger. “how do you know?” you asked, fumbling over your words like trying to catch a bar of soap with wet hands.
emma smiled and pointed at the bar where brady was, you assumed, closing out the tab. seeing him in the flesh had your heart stuttering. the anxiety was kicking back in, hitting harder than it did when you were sober. you hadn’t seen brady since november, or was it december? the months had blurred together just like that one scene from new moon.
but now you were seeing him in the flesh, and he was getting closer as emma tugged you over to where he was. brady was just slipping his card back in his wallet when the two of you got to him. he looked up and smiled at his fianceé before he even realized you were standing there. the lovesick smile dropped but it was quickly replaced with shock before it was transformed into a smile you could’ve painted from memory.
“hey!” he said just loud enough to be heard over the noise. “i didn’t think you were coming tonight.”
if you were sober, you’d see that statement as a warning, preparation for what was to come. you would’ve noticed the way his eyes kept darting to the entrance of the bar, but you didn’t. you were just happy to see him for the first time in a while, feeling the semblance of home you’d been missing for months.
if you were sober, you would’ve remembered that brady and his brother were a package deal. you would’ve known that the nights brady wasn’t spending with emma, he was spending with your ex, and when emma had inevitably texted (or brady offered) her fiancé to pick her up, that he was more than likely already out with his brother celebrating his upcoming nuptials.
if you were sober, you would’ve noticed him walk through the door because your eyes were always drawn to him. you would’ve known it was him by the smell of his cologne, instead of waiting for him to slap his brother on the shoulder in greeting.
if you were sober, you would’ve made a break for it the second he started approaching you, emma, and brady.
but you were drunk off your ass, and all you could do was stand there like a dumbfounded idiot while matthew brendan tkachuk glanced around the room.
brady shifted on his feet a little, bracing for the moment you both knew was coming. the moment where matt saw you for the first time since november 29, when he played calgary. you’d imagine to brady, it felt like watching a car accident happen in real time. to you though, you were the accident. you were the one getting hit by a bus going full speed. you were rooted to the spot, taking in every feature of matt’s face that you’d missed over the last six months, waiting for him to see you.
if you were sober, you would’ve run away by now, knowing that being that close to him would do nothing for you.
but it was too late now.
matt finally glanced at emma, then brady, until his eyes landed on you. the smile on his lips from the song that was bumping through the speakers dropped almost immediately. he recoiled, took a small step back, almost as if he was shocked to see you there at all.
you felt like an idiot.
you weren’t sure how long the two of you stared at each other before you took a deep breath and stared at your shoes.
your hands were shaking again.
you shoved them in your pockets again.
matt’s eyes darted to your shorts at the movement, his eyes scrunched together in what looked like concern, but you brushed that thought off before you could convince yourself he still cared. but you could feel his stare on you, even as you looked around and avoided eye contact. you felt like an ant, with matt’s gaze being the magnifying glass that was burning you with a beam of sunlight.
“do you have a ride home?” brady asked. your head whipped back around to look at him and emma.
you shrugged, already feeling more sober than you were two minutes ago. “was gonna uber.”
matt scoffed. “not happening.”
out of nowhere anger bubbled out of your chest and out of your mouth. “excuse me?”
matt fixed you with a hard stare, one you didn’t shy away from. “you’re not ubering home on a friday night drunk as hell. it’s not happening.”
“i think you lost the right to make my decisions six months ago.” you refused to say his name, refused to know what it felt like to have it back on your tongue even though your heart was crying out to utter those two syllables again.
brady interjected before the disagreement could escalate. “i just wanna make sure you get home safe,” he said. “can i drive you home?”
you glanced at the man you used to know like a little brother. you saw the sincerity in his eyes, the concern.
and maybe it was the love for brady and emma that had you accepting. or maybe it was the alcohol. you nodded your head and let emma lock arms with you as you were led out by the tkachuk brothers.
you found yourself in the backseat where you used to hold hands with matt when you went on double dates with brady and emma. the two of you used to tease the younger couple when they did literally anything romantic. if brady so much as grabbed emma’s hand, the two of you were gagging in the backseat “choking on their pda” all while knowing brady and emma have caught you in more compromising positions before.
but it wasn’t like that this time around.
you slid into your usual seat in the back before emma could offer up shotgun to you. maybe if you were more selfish, you’d accept, but you weren’t going to let your friend sit away from her fiancé when you could just suck it up.
the space between you and matt felt too suffocatingly small and yet it still felt like you were on two opposite sides of the globe. you thought about taking a risk and throwing yourself out of the moving vehicle, but there was still a wedding you were both in. you needed to figure out how to tolerate being around him if you didn’t want to cause a scene later in the summer.
you just had to make it to the end of july, then you could go back and pretend like december 16th never happened, like the past nine years of your life never happened. like you never fell in love with your best friend, like you never met him and his mother in fourth grade, like your parents never moved you to st. louis. like there weren’t traces of your failed relationship in every scrapbook in your parents’ house, like he wasn’t tied to every significant moment of your childhood.
you felt like the bundle of christmas lights that you’d sworn you put back in an orderly fashion the previous year, only to pull them out and realize you had an entire project on your hands to detangle them all.
except in the end, none of the lights worked anyway.
you could hardly remember a time where your life wasn’t deeply intertwined with matthew’s. you thought it’d lead to something, to marriage, to raising kids together, to celebrating his retirement, buying a home close to his family, and growing fat and old together.
you hated the idea that you went down that road only for it to be a dead end.
brady pulled up outside your house. you were unbuckling your seat belt and throwing the door open before he’d even put the car in park. you were doing your best to get to the front porch before anything else happened, but as hard as you tried, you were still a little too drunk. you were stumbling up the driveway and to the front door, all the while trying to figure out which key was the key to your house.
a car door slammed in the distance before footsteps followed.
you knew the sound like you knew the sound of your mother’s sadness. you would’ve recognized his footfalls anywhere.
in your haste and anxiety, you dropped your keys. you squatted down and nearly tipped over at the rush to your head. matt’s hand shot out before you could grab the keys while his other hand grabbed your elbow and pulled you into a standing position. he led you to the front door and with ease, found your house key. he unlocked the door but didn’t move to open it. you could feel his stare on the side of your face, but you refused to look back.
his touch on your skin felt like it was burning, and part of you wanted to rip your arm out of his grasp, but you couldn’t.
you just—
couldn't.
matt said your name quietly, but you just shook your head, willing the tears to go away. he didn’t get to see you cry, didn’t get to know that his actions had absolutely wrecked you. he tried again, but you inhaled and jerked your arm out of his reach before you opened your front door, grabbed your keys, and shut it in his face.
you barely made it into your bathroom before you threw up.
before
you were bouncing on your toes at the airport. matt’s plane landed fifteen minutes ago, and you were anxiously waiting for him to round the corner.
matt’s first year with the ntdp made your relationship a little difficult, though, you thought it would be harder than it was. modern technology definitely made it easier on you. matt would call you just about every other night, and if he couldn’t, matt was texting you whenever he had the freetime.
the last time you saw each other was when you and the tkachuks spent your spring break in ann arbor to visit, and that had been over a month ago. thankfully, you’d managed to convince your mom to let you check out of school early to wait for him.
“someone’s excited,” taryn teased, bumping her shoulder into your side.
“honey leave her alone,” chantal chided. “we’re all excited.”
“i’m not,” brady grumbled. not even a beat later, keith was slapping the back of his head.
moments later, matt walked around the corner with his bags in hand. you fought every urge to run to him, deciding he probably wanted to greet his family first. and he did, you watched as he hugged his mom and dad first, moving the taryn, before punching brady in the shoulder.
you were nervously playing with the hem of your school issued plaid skirt as you looked on, suddenly feeling out of place. but it didn’t linger because in a blink of an eye, matt’s arms were wrapping around your waist and tugging you into his chest.
a sigh escaped your lips, one you didn’t even know was held hostage in your chest. maybe you were being dramatic (you were almost 16, after all), but it felt like the part of you that was missing was just returned.
“missed you,” he mumbled into your neck.
you couldn’t help the smile that graced your lips.
matt didn’t let go of you, even when everyone started walking towards the car where keith parked. your hand was tightly grasped in his own, forcing brady to carry the other bag matt couldn’t. to make up for it, you offered to sit in the back of keith’s escalade so brady could have more leg room. matt ended up grumbling about it, but it was clear he wasn’t going to let you sit in the back next to taryn when he hadn’t seen you in weeks.
“i ruined my perfect attendance streak for you,” you said as you traced the veins of his hands.
matt smirked. “i messed up little miss perfect’s squeaky clean record? how will you ever get into college now?”
you ripped your hand from his and shoved his shoulder, barely restraining yourself from cussing him out. “shut up,” was what you settled for because while taryn and brady had most definitely heard their fair share of curse words, you didn’t want to be the one on the receiving end of chantal’s disapproving look, even if it meant keith would be fighting for his life to hold back laughter.
all four of you, keith and chantal excluded, all but scrambled out of the car when it pulled into the garage. you and matt grabbed both of his bags before bum rushing into the house and up the stairs to his room.
“leave the door open!” chantal called from the first floor.
you didn’t need to see his face to know matt was rolling his eyes.
“i’m tempted to ignore her and just slam and lock the door,” he grumbled.
you dropped the bag you were holding and guffawed. “you wouldn’t. you love your mom.”
matt dropped his bag and immediately took the opportunity to grab you by the waist. “and i love you.”
you almost giggled, but you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself so you beamed instead. the first time he said those words was a few months ago over facetime and it still made you giddy as it did then.
matt pressed his forehead against yours. “you’re not gonna say it back?” he asked.
you blinked, still smiling. “what?”
“you're not gonna say you love me back?”
you shrugged, knowing it would get under his skin. you knew the consequences. “hm,” you hummed. “do i need to?”
matt rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might’ve gotten stuck in the back of his head. “quit being smart.”
and maybe you should’ve given up, maybe you should’ve let it go and say those three little words you’d said countless times before. but teasing him was way too much fun to pass up when you hadn’t seen him in months. so you pursed your lips and hummed again. “i seem to recall you saying you liked how smart i am. something about being the beauty and the brains?”
and out of nowhere, taryn popped her head in. “well matt for sure wasn’t going to be the beauty, and he’s never been the brains,” she smirked.
matt let go of you and marched over to the door, all but slamming it in her face.
“matthew brendan tkachuk! that door better be open!” chantal’s voice carried up the stairs had you lunging across the room and whipping open the door in a hurry.
“sorry mrs. tkachuk!” you called out before turning around and glaring at your boyfriend. “you’re a menace.”
matthew smirked and pulled you close enough that you were chest to chest. “but you love me.”
“i love you so much.”
after
the hangover you had the next morning was probably the worst you ever remember having. well, until you remembered the night matt broke up with you, that was the worst one.
you turned over in bed, picked up your phone, and saw multiple texts from emma and brady alike, both ranging from “it was great to see you” to “i’m so sorry about last night.” you groaned and dropped your phone back on the nightstand.
last night, when you thought about it, hurt more than it should’ve. you saw him for the first time in the flesh and it looked like he was fine, like he didn’t completely upend your life six months ago when he ended things. part of you wondered if he could see through you, through the illusion of your happiness and to the core where you were just as fractured as you were december 17th.
the rest of the weekend continued with you doing little to nothing but eating and binging trashy reality tv shows. when your alarm went off on monday morning, you contemplated calling off, but got dressed instead.
“you look like hell,” was the first thing frankie, your mentor and boss, said to you. because of the nature of your relationship, you felt comfortable flipping him off, even as he passed you a cup of coffee. “rough night?” he asked after watching you take a hefty sip of the hot beverage.
“rough weekend,” you grumbled.
frankie gave you a small smile and patted you on the back as the two of you walked to the workspace. “wanna talk about it?”
you recognized performative kindness when you saw it. while you firmly believed frankie cared about you and your wellbeing, you also knew he didn’t want to hear the sob story of how you ran into your ex drunk at a bar, at least, not at 8am. so you shook your head.
“i looked at some of your work on the bradshaw family’s piece so far, and i was impressed. i do have some notes, but for the most part, you’ve been doing a great job.”
you did your best to smile gratefully, but you weren’t sure it translated. “i really appreciate your guidance on this, and the trust you have to let me work on some of these projects.”
“you’re very talented,” he said. “you ever thought about creating something for yourself or someone else?”
there wasn’t a word to describe the noise that came out of your mouth. was it a nervous laugh? a squeak maybe? you didn’t know, and neither did frankie.
“what?” he asked. “why is that so scary?”
you shrugged as the two of you made it to the workspace. normally, you would start by pulling out the supplies you needed to begin working on the bradshaw piece, but if frankie met you at the door, it was because he wanted to have an impromptu meeting first.
“i feel like i’m good at fixing things,” you said. “maybe not creating something from thin air.”
“you have so much talent,” frankie replied. “i hate to see it wasted on fixing and preserving someone else’s work when you could be doing both. it could be your art that people hang in their houses and pay thousands of dollars to preserve.”
you nodded, but kept your eyes on the table, studying the wood grain and tracing the pattern with your finger.
“i don’t think i’m capable of that anymore.”
frankie reached over and squeezed your shoulder. “just think on it, okay? couldn’t hurt to just think on it.” he walked out a moment later, giving you space and time to queue up music and get started on the day.
you opened spotify and pressed the play button on your liked songs without even thinking about it. not even two seconds later, you regretted your decision. the soft tones and beats of frank ocean’s thinkin bout you echoed through the room and slammed against your chest. you immediately switched the song and found a classical playlist to listen to instead.
but the tune wouldn’t get out of your head.
not two minutes later.
not thirty minutes later.
not after your full eight hour shift spent hunched over your workstation.
not even on the drive home.
frank ocean’s voice permeated every fiber of your being.
it was simone who first showed you the song in high school. you remembered liking the melody enough, but you didn’t get the lyrics. and why would you? you were in love with your best friend who loved you back. even though you were fourteen and too young to even think about marriage, you knew matthew was going to be the person you ended up with. it was him or no one.
and now it was no one.
now, you listened to the song play over and over in your head, the lyrics resonating with you deeper than ever before.
you pulled into your driveway, completely unaware of what cars were parked in the street. they’d never mattered to you before. why would they now?
you sat in your car for a few minutes, taking a deep breath while you worked up the courage to go inside. when you finally got a grip on your emotions, you opened your door and grabbed your bag. you were too busy fumbling with your keys to notice anything amiss until you were on your porch and a pair of shoes came into sight.
“hey.”
it took everything in you not to scream. you dropped your keys and nearly dropped your bag. matthew stood on your front porch with his hands in the pockets in his shorts like he was innocent of any pain or suffering he’d caused you. he was in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and you hated yourself a little bit for thinking he’s attractive like that.
“what’re you doing here?” you hated how hoarse your voice sounded, like a low quality audio recording where things sounded muffled and broken.
“your dad wouldn’t let me in.”
“good.”
matt sighed and ran a hand down his face. “can we not do this?”
“not do what?” you asked. “not act like you ended things for no damn reason?”
“if you—”
“we dated for nearly ten years and you decided to end it over a five minute phone call. and you still think you’re entitled to my time?” and maybe you should’ve been kinder, maybe you should’ve been more civil. but you hadn’t seen or heard from him in months (until a few nights ago) and he just turned up out of the blue? expecting you to do what? forgive him? move on?
matthew said your name delicately, but not in the way he used to, like saying your name was a luxury he was honored to have. no, he said it like you were going to break, like you were fragile, like he wasn’t the sole cause of your pain. “please—”
the anger was draining out of you quicker. you were exhausted between work, and frank ocean’s stupid song, and the other night.
“what do you want?” your voice cracked on the last word. “wanna ruin my life a little bit more? put the final nail in the coffin?”
“no,” he shook his head fervently. matthew took a step towards you and looked something close to devastated when you stepped back. but it didn’t make sense, he ended it, he had no right to look or feel that way. “i just wanna talk.”
“six months,” you said, doing your best to keep your voice clear. “you had six months to say something. what could you possibly have to say now that you couldn’t then?”
“i know we didn’t end on the best of terms—” he started, but it was cut off by your scoff. you turned your head away and used your palm to wipe at your eyes before you crossed your arms over your chest. “—but i don’t think we should let this ruin brady and emma’s summer. we’re gonna see a lot of each other and i don’t want things to be tense around them.”
you took a minute to really look at him. blonde frizzy curls, blue eyes that wouldn’t leave your face. he hadn’t changed one bit.
one summer, you’d attempted to count the number of freckles on his shoulders. you got up to 87 before you gave up.
and yet you felt like you were standing in front of a stranger.
there were so many things you wanted to say, so many things you’d dreamt of screaming at him, but now that he was here, in front of you, asking something of you, you felt drained, tired. you used to crave his presence, now it felt like a leech.
you loved him, but he was sucking the life out of you.
so you nodded. you nodded and said “okay,” before you walked inside your front door and left your heart on the porch.
you pressed your back against the door and slid to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest. there was no telling when you started crying, or when your dad joined you on the floor, hugging you as close to his chest as he could.
“why wasn’t i enough?” you sobbed into your knees.
your dad petted your hair before he pressed a kiss there. “you’re more than enough, honey. but you can’t make anyone love you if they’re not willing to.”
“he used to!” you wailed. “he used to love me!” then, in a smaller voice, “what changed?”
a beat of silence, then your father’s somber, quiet voice. “maybe he did.”
before
“so what are your plans for after high school?” ms. meyer, your high school guidance counselor sat across from you at her desk. her stare was kind, but unwavering.
you’d already applied to notre dame, knowing that’s where matt committed. so when you answered, it was confident. it had been your plan since matt said yes to the school. “i’m going to notre dame and majoring in art history.”
“do you have any back up schools?”
you nodded. “ucla and the art institute of chicago.”
ms. meyer pursed her lips. “you know all of those places are highly competitive, right?”
“my transcripts and resume are impressive and I did really well on the SAT and ACT. i think i’ll be able to get in.” and you were, you were pretty confident as they come when it came to academics. any school would’ve been lucky to have you, that much you believed.
ms. meyer nodded. “i understand ucla and the art institute, both of those schools have incredible arts programs, but why notre dame? it doesn’t seem to fit with your aspirations.”
“oh,” you laughed under your breath. “that’s where my boyfriend is going.”
your guidance counselor blinked. “you’re incredibly smart and gifted, i’d hate to see that talent wasted when you could be developing it elsewhere. what do you want?”
“i want to be with matthew.”
ms. meyer sighed and gave you a sympathetic smile, you weren’t sure why though. you’d never been more sure of anything. “honey, can i be honest with you?” she didn’t wait for your response. “you have so much talent, so much to offer, i’ve seen many girls come in here, putting off aspirations for their significant others only for that relationship not to last.”
“i know we’re young,” you started, already feeling the heat rise up in your chest. she didn’t know anything about you personally, she didn’t know about you and matt. “but we’re gonna make it, i swear.”
ms. meyer nodded. “of course you are.” she cleared her throat and adjusted the papers in front of her. “so, notre dame...”
after
you weren't exactly sure what compelled you to do it, but at dinner a few nights ago, your mom had asked about what happened to simone, your friend from middle and high school. so you reached out, though it made you feel like you were contacting someone to join your mlm.
it legitimately surprised you when simone replied to your facebook message. the two of you made plans to get coffee on saturday.
and now it was saturday.
you weren’t getting coffee until 9:30, but you were awake and staring at your ceiling at 7. you’d done the due diligence of stalking simone’s profile, so you knew she was married with two kids who looked just like her. she worked as a data analyst for kroger and her husband was a public defender. she met her husband in college and they got married shortly after they graduated from grad and law school respectively.
if you were a better woman, you’d admit you were jealous. jealous that she got what she wanted in the end. but when you put that aside, you still felt overwhelming happiness at her station in life, regardless of how yours turned out.
you kept scrolling through her social media until it was eventually time for you to get up. you stayed to facebook, not even wanting to bother with going on instagram and accidentally stumbling across one of the tkachuks’ posts.
it was 9:10 when you finally finished getting dressed and ready. you came down the stairs and threw a goodbye over your shoulder before grabbing your crossbody bag and your keys and running out the door.
despite your sprinting and nearly running red lights, you were still five minutes late. you came into the coffee shop, gasping for air after sprinting down the sidewalk from your parking spot.
the second you entered the business, simone’s hand lifted and she smiled brightly, calling you over almost immediately. she stood to greet you, and like no time had passed, pulled you in for a hug.
“it’s so good to see you,” she said. “wasn’t sure if you still liked an iced chai latte, but i got one for you.”
“oh my god, yes,” you gasped before taking a seat and taking a sip of the beverage.
she kept smiling, which made you feel lighthearted for once. most people kept looking at you with pitying eyes, but simone saw you for more than the grief of the last six months. she had to know about it, she just had to, but you thanked her for not bringing it up in the first minute of your conversation.
“how’s work going?”
you shrugged. “it’s mostly tedious, but it’s been fine. what about you? working for kroger? that’s a huge deal.”
simone shook her head. “it’s just a means to an end, a way i can pay for my family’s lifestyle.”
“but are you passionate about what you do?”
she shrugged lightly. “it’s a job, it’s not my life. not everyone is going to work a job that fulfills them. my husband? he loves being a public defender, and he’s good at it. me though, as fun as analyzing data all day sounds and as helpful as it is, getting to have a job that doesn’t come home with me is probably my favorite part of it.”
you nodded along like you understood. and maybe you didn’t do a good enough job at being convincing because simone sighed.
“i wanted to wait to ask this, but i can’t hold it in any longer. how’re you holding up?”
it took you several seconds to answer her question. your mouth open and closed multiple times. “i— i don't know.” you sank back into your seat and picked at your cuticles. “it’s been a shitty few months,” you admitted. “you’d think i’d be over it by now.
simone shook her head and leaned in, arms braced on the table. “you two were together for a decade, what’s a few months in comparison to that?”
you shrugged. “i saw him the other night, when i went out drinking with the other bridesmaids. it was like, i don't know, i got dunked in an ice bath or something. he looked completely unaffected and i couldn’t breathe.”
simone whispered your name.
“but i’m fine!” you asserted. “i’m trying to be.”
simone nodded. “so what do you do now?”
you could’ve kissed her feet for the change in topic. “i’m working in the art restoration and conservation field.”
simone blinked. “you’re restoring art? do you like it?”
you shrugged. “most days, it can get repetitive, but that’s what i like.”
your friend sighed and fixed you with a soft, sympathetic look. “but is that what you want to do for the rest of your life? restoring someone else’s art? doing something repetitive? you are so talented, i hate to see you wasting that talent restoring someone else’s work.”
“it’s not a waste! it’s incredibly difficult and some things deserve to be preserved.”
“but some new things deserve to be created.” simone leaned in closer, her forearms braced on the table. “i think it would do you some good to start creating something again, even if it’s shitty. and you think you aren’t ready, just try something new. a new bar, a new hobby, a new man, something new.”
your stomach twisted at the thought of going on a date with someone other than matt, but simone was right. it had been six months and he seemed to be doing fine, it was your turn to start moving on, to find yourself again.
so you nodded. “we should do this more often,” you said. “i’ve missed you.”
simone smiled. “i’ve missed you too, i’m glad you’re home.”
you talked for another hour about everything the two of you had missed over the years of you being elsewhere before she had to leave and relieve the nanny at home. simone hugged you goodbye and texted you her new number before she left the coffee shop.
the drive home was quiet because you were pondering the things she’d said. you weren’t sure you were ready for making your own art, you sure as hell weren’t ready to go on a date. but maybe you should try.
maybe you were ready to put yourself first for once.
before
the biggest argument you’d had with matt was after you found out he wasn’t playing at notre dame at all, he was going to play for calgary.
you felt so stupid for committing to that school when you should’ve known your boyfriend was talented enough to skip it altogether. maybe you should’ve taken a gap year, then you wouldn’t have to be doing even more long distance in two different countries.
the two of you never argued, or maybe never was too strong of a word. you hardly ever had a disagreement if you thought about it long enough. most of the time, you suppressed the disappointment and the anger, shoving it to the side because you were surely being dramatic.
but now you were standing off to the side, waiting for your name to be called to cross the stage at your high school graduation, and you wished you’d said something to convince matthew to delay settling into his new calgary apartment with one of his teammates.
but you swallowed your disappointment and pride and just dealt with the fact that he wouldn’t be there.
it was fine.
just high school.
you were snapped out of your reverie when your name was called. you smiled and walked across the stage. when you dreamt of this exact moment, you always thought you’d walk with grace, that all noise would cease to exist as you honed in on the sheet of paper you’d spent the last 13 years working towards.
but it wasn’t like that.
because you heard one specific voice above all the others. as your principal handed you the diploma, your eyes searched the crowd and saw him.
matthew standing up and yelling with his family next to him. he had a sign, the words you couldn’t read because there were tears forming in your water line. he was pointing at you and kept yelling and clapping, hooting and hollering like it was his full time job. your parents were smiling, though they were seated, and your grandparents were stone faced clapping like they were at the masters tournament.
so you kept your eyes on him, even as you walked back to your seat. you might have stumbled, tripped even, but all you could see, all you could feel was him.
you were back in your seat by the time the person calling out the names spoke again.
“please hold your applause until the end.”
you could hear his scoff, even from your seat.
your leg bounced for the rest of the graduation ceremony. you didn’t even register the turning of your tassel. you just couldn’t wait for it to be over so you could be in matt’s arms.
as soon as the ceremony concluded, matt was shoving his way past families, nearly taking out an elderly gentleman in his quest to get to you. on the other hand, you were being pushed to move farther away from him as the procession of students filed out of the gym. you kept looking over your shoulder to find him, but it looked like brady had caught up to him, wrangling his older brother to follow the crowds outside.
“outside!” brady pointed.
you nodded.
as soon as you got through the gym doors, you were booking it outside into the sunlight. it blinded you momentarily, but you whipped your phone out seconds later to see if matt had texted you where he’d be. you pulled up his contact and were seconds away from calling him when arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you up into the air.
a squeal left your lips until he set you down a moment later. you spun around in his arms and before you could say anything, matthew was kissing you like no one else was around.
when the two of you finally needed air, you pulled away. “i thought you were in calgary!”
matthew scoffed though there was a large smile on his lips. “you thought i’d miss my favorite girl’s graduation? calgary can wait, your high school graduation only happens once.”
“i’m glad you’re here,” you whispered.
“me too, baby.”
unfortunately, matt pulled away so you could hug your parents and even your grandparents who were standing off to the side. taryn and brady pulled you into a group hug afterwards, with taryn going on a tangent about all the fun things the two of you would have to do before you left for school.
but brady was taking your graduation cap off your head to ruffle your hair as matt grabbed your purse and took your car keys out. keith and chantal were offering to pay for a celebratory lunch while your grandparents gave an irish goodbye. your parents were smiling, you were tucked into matt’s side, and brady and taryn were bickering and—
everything was perfect.
you wanted to freeze that moment, that sensation in your chest, take the saccharine feeling and bottle it up and store it on your bookshelf.
and if you could’ve, you would’ve savored the sensation of matt’s lips pressed to your temple while both of your dads discussed the best route to get to the restaurant.
but you had no idea how the future would turn out.
you thought matt was forever.
after
you were on a double date, or at least, hyping yourself up to go into the bar and meet up with simone, her husband, and a friend of theirs. you didn’t want to be a bitch, but you also didn’t want to send yourself into a panic attack. simone had suggested just entertaining something with someone, didn’t even have to be serious, it could just be sex.
you could do that, right?
just casual sex?
the thought was nauseating. you’d only slept with matthew, no one knew your body like he did and—
you stopped yourself before you could go down that rabbit hole.
your hands shook as you stepped out of your car and locked it. maybe you should’ve gotten an uber, but then again, you weren’t really planning on drinking like that. you were hoping you’d still be sober enough to go home.
the music in the bar shockingly wasn’t as loud as you expected. it wasn’t the bass bumping, ass grinding bar like the ones matt used to take you to after games. even still, your palms started sweating as you looked around. you spotted simone’s natural hair across the room and made your way towards her.
her husband, stephen, stood to greet you first, followed by simone, then lastly your date. a guy named andrew who was a partner at his firm, the youngest on his team.
his handshake was firm, but there were no calluses on his palm. his hair was slicked back with what you guessed was a pomade.
he was so unlike matthew it was alarming.
but maybe it was for the best.
you smiled and took your seat next to simone, you sipped on the water in front of you.
“we didn’t want to order drinks without you just yet.”
“thank you,” you mumbled just loud enough for everyone to hear.
“it’s nice to finally meet you,” andrew started. “simone spoke highly of you. she said you’ve been friends since middle school.”
you felt bad because simone didn’t really say much to you about him. if you were a gambler, you’d assume it was because she didn’t want you to back out. you barely even knew him and you were already comparing him to matt.
which wasn’t fair, you knew that. andrew deserved to be a human without the baggage of your last and only relationship determining how you viewed him.
you would try, at the very least for simone. at the very most, you’d try for yourself.
“nice to meet you too. i heard you’re a partner at your law firm? how is that going?”
oh god. you were so bad at this. asking about work on a friday night?
but he smiled. his teeth were perfectly straight and white. you'd bet your last dollar that he'd never needed braces, not like you did.
you hated yourself for thinking of the gap between matthew’s teeth.
“it’s going well,” he said. “lot of work, but i managed to get enough done this week that my friday was free. i wanted to meet the ‘best artist on planet earth,’ according to simone.”
“oh i don’t know about that,” you flushed.
simone scoffed. “don’t downplay yourself.” she turned to look at andrew. “you should see the art she created in high school as a teenager. it was so impressive.”
“what medium do you like working with the most?” he asked.
“mostly acrylic.”
andrew’s eyes lit up. “do you have any photos of your art? i’d love to see your work.”
you shook your head, feeling a little embarrassed at all the attention. “i don’t really paint like that anymore. i work in art conservation now, not a whole lot of time to create something new.”
“that’s such a unique career! what does your average day look like?” andrew leaned forward a little and took a sip of his water.
you told him a little bit about what you did. about how you spent hours hunched over a painting and fixing the smallest problems in hopes it would satisfy the client.
“you must’ve gone to some prestigious art school for that. if you don’t mind me asking, where did you go to college?”
your spine stiffened. “university of calgary.”
and just like you anticipated, his face twisted in confusion. there was no logical reason you should’ve gone out of the country for a regular school. it would be one thing if you went to an art institute, but you didn’t.
“why calgary?” he asked. “seems a bit random, if you don’t mind me asking.”
you shifted in your seat and wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. it wasn’t until you cleared your throat in a sorry attempt to get the lump out, that you spoke. “it’s a long story,” you said. “thought i had a future in calgary.”
andrew, to his credit, knew when to not ask questions and changed the subject immediately.
the rest of the night passed in a blur. you were only halfway present, your mind reeling at how you wasted those years in calgary waiting for a man who would dump you as soon as he moved to a warmer state.
he, quite literally, left you in the cold.
andrew offered to walk you to your car, an offer you accepted because it was dark and st. louis.
“i had a great time tonight,” he said. “it was really nice to meet you. you’re even better than simone and stephen said.”
you gave him a small smile. “it was nice to meet you too.”
andrew shifted on his feet. for a moment, he didn’t look the part of the youngest partner at his law firm, he looked like a boy. “i was hoping maybe you’d want to do this again? maybe get some dinner?”
your throat felt like someone had force fed you cotton balls. but then you thought about how pathetic your life had been the last six months, how pathetic it was going to be when you flew to new jersey to be in the same bridal party as your ex.
you refused to be pathetic any longer.
which is probably why you smiled (albeit shakily) and said yes.
before
you were bouncing on your toes in the hallway as you waited for matt. it was a brutal game, and he spent a good portion of it in the penalty box, mostly for minor things, but one incident was for fighting. which wasn’t atypical, but you’d never seen him that keyed up before.
and given his reputation, there were any number of things that could’ve caused the fight itself. two weeks ago, matt had fought someone for being too forceful with one of his teammates, which after years of watching the game, was on par with the sport and your boyfriend.
because he fought so much, you weren’t necessarily surprised whenever he did. sure, you flinched when he was punched, knowing how badly it would bruise, praying to whatever higher power existed that he would still have all his teeth. but usually, matt wasn’t trying to fight everyone on the ice at all times.
tonight was different.
safe to say, you were a little anxious waiting for him to come out.
you weren’t exactly sure about what was said on the ice to get him so riled up. the worst you’d seen was when someone on the other team said something about taryn. you used to think that was the angriest you ever saw him. and it was.
until tonight.
you could feel the energy rolling off of him in waves as he exited the locker room. usually, after a win, matt is relaxed and easy going, but despite the victory from tonight, he was tense and pent up, frustrated even.
“hey,” you said, meeting him halfway.
matthew didn’t respond, just dropped his bag and wrapped you up in a hug, tucking his head into the space where your neck met your shoulder.
“you okay?” you asked.
he nodded. he squeezed your waist once before letting go, taking your hand instead. “ready to go?”
the car ride was silent minus the music matthew had playing through the aux. his hand rested on your thigh, though the grip was particularly tighter than normal, especially after a win. part of you wanted to ask, the other part not wanting to spoil the rest of the night with your curiosity.
but this was the man you loved. and it hurt you to see him this upset.
normally, you would’ve left well enough alone, but you were going back to notre dame in two days and didn’t want to spend the rest of your time walking on eggshells around him. you couldn’t help him if you didn’t know what was wrong.
“what happened?” you asked when the car came to a stop at a light.
“nothing,” he grunted.
“your team won and you’re still grumpy, matthew. so tell me, what happened? i want to help you.”
“there’s nothing to help.”
“matthew,” you groaned. “i’m only here for two days, can you just be honest with me? i don’t wanna waste the rest of my trip with you being upset when i can help you—”
“then go back to indiana!” he all but yelled, ripping his hand off your thigh so he could shove it through his disheveled hair.
your jaw dropped. in all the years you’d known matt, he'd never talked to you that way. and you weren’t starting a bad habit by letting him think he could ever do it again. you unbuckled your seat belt and grabbed your bag. you tugged on the handle of the door. “i’ll see you at home,” you said.
matt scoffed. “don’t be dramatic.”
“i’m not being ‘dramatic,’ matthew. you’re being an asshole.” you braced yourself for the cold as the door opened and let in a cold breeze.
matthew called your name, but you ignored him and slammed the car door shut. it was a little petty, considering how matt had berated his siblings over the same thing.
a car honked, probably because the light had turned green and matt was still sitting at the light, looking at you.
a cold wind blew and for a moment, you thought about hopping back in the car with matt, but he was pulling away and your pride wasn’t ready to take a hit just yet.
his car sped away until, with an efficiency you only wish you had, he parallel parked in a spot just up the road.
“get in the car,” he called, slamming his car door shut. “it’s too cold for you to be proving a point.”
“and what point am i trying to prove, matthew?” you asked over your shoulder.
you kept walking.
“would you please stop walking and just get back in the car?”
you kept walking.
a hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, you might’ve shrieked had it not been gentle, had you not recognized the scent of matt’s cologne.
gently, he turned you around.
“baby, just get in the car. you don’t even have to talk to me. don't even have to look at me if you don’t want to. i’ll sleep on the couch or something, but it’s not safe for you to be walking home alone.” he ran his thumb back and forth over your pulse point in a soothing manner.
you kept your eyes on his hand. “what happened during the game?
he sighed, shoulders sagging like they were tired from carrying the weight of the world. “they were talking shit.”
you blinked. “and that’s different....how?”
with the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, matthew pinched the bridge of his nose. “they were talking shit about you. saying you deserved better and shit.”
“matthew, you know that’s not true—”
“they called you names.” his voice was dark, angrier than you'd ever heard before. “things i’m not comfortable repeating.”
a shiver went down your spine, for matt to be that upset made you uncomfortable. you didn’t want to think about what they said, you didn’t want to dwell on it any longer.
“well,” you said, voice feeling small and weak in your throat. “well, we know it’s not true, so it doesn’t matter.” you tried to make your way back to the car, but matt’s grip on your wrist stopped you.
“but it does matter,” he insisted. “what they said, i get it wasn't true, you and i both know that. but i’m not gonna let anyone talk shit about you, i don’t care who they are.”
your eyes finally met his own and in the blue you saw determination and conviction there. you started towards him and wrapped your arms around his waist.
“i love you, matty.”
he kissed the top of your head. “love you more.”
after
“where are you going?” your mom asked from the couch.
your dad looked up from his james patterson book to squint at your outfit: a square neck black dress. “are you going out?” he chimed in.
you felt sheepish, like the fifteen year old girl going on her first solo date, no parents picking her up because matt just got his license. “remember that guy i went on a double date with?”
“with simone and her husband?” you mom asked.
you nodded. “we’re going out again, just us tonight.”
your mother gave you a small smile while you dad kept staring. “have fun, sweetheart.”
your dad, however, put his book down and looked at you above the rim of his glasses. “are you gonna be okay?”
“alan, this will be good for her!”
but your dad’s eyes never left your face. “you’ll call if you need something?”
“andrew’s a good guy, dad.” or at least, you were assuming so. you’d only met the guy one other time and he seemed alright.
but you could see the look in your father’s eyes, you could hear what he wasn’t saying.
so was matthew.
you swallowed and nodded at your parents. your phone pinged with a notification that your uber was outside. “i’ll be back.”
the drive to the bar was silent. usually, you wouldn’t have taken an uber, but you were unsure how drunk you would get tonight. the date could go well, it could be everything you wanted, even if all you wanted was matthew.
but you were prepared for the worst. you were prepared to drink until you couldn’t see straight just to get through the night.
andrew was a nice guy, but he wasn’t who you wanted.
and you hated yourself for it.
the uber pulled up to the bar. and simply because he didn’t kidnap or talk to you, you gave the driver five stars.
andrew was waiting at a high top table for you, a glass of water ready to go. you waved at him and carefully made your way across the room, avoiding people and drinks and people with drinks.
“hey,” he greeted.
you gave him a small smile. “hi.”
“was traffic bad on your way here? i wasn’t sure, given that it’s friday and what not.”
you shook your head. “not too bad.”
c’mon, think of something. say something. anything.
“crazy busy tonight, huh?” you wanted to facepalm. that was what you came up with? all the words in the world and that was what you—
“yeah,” andrew cut off your mental tirade. “i think some famous guys are here tonight, heard murmurs of it.”
you nearly broke out into a cold sweat. “d-do you know who?”
andrew shrugged. “i didn’t ask, i just heard someone talking about it when i was getting a drink.” then, like he finally realized, he snapped. “do you want anything? i can grab it for you.”
you gave him your drink order with a smile. he tapped the table with his knuckles before promising he'd be right back.
you traced the grain of the table with your finger, allowing it to feel the grooves and water stains left from other customers. it felt awkward, sitting by yourself with no one to talk to. andrew said he'd be back, but the bar was busy, it could be ten, fifteen minutes before he'd come back.
your phone buzzed.
simone:
how’s it going?
you smiled despite yourself.
you:
he’s nice. he went to get me a drink.
you put your phone down to look around the bar. it was busier than normal, or at least, what you thought was normal.
you were scrolling through your social media feeds when andrew finally came back. he had your drink in hand with a smile on his face.
“sorry, the line took forever,” he said.
you glanced at the bar to see a small crowd of people. “doesn’t surprise me,” you said. “friday’s are usually busy.”
“yeah especially when there’s two hockey players in town. heard someone at the bar talking about it, thought you might wanna know. simone said you were a fan?”
your stomach dropped to your feet. you took a hefty sip of your drink to avoid andrew seeing a frown on your face. there was a chance that it was a blues player still in town, but your gut knew better. if you were a betting woman, you'd bet your last dollar on it being brady and matt.
you wanted to throw up.
instead, you chugged the drink.
“whoa, you okay?” andrew’s eyes widened a little, maybe in concern, but there was something about the smirk on his face that said otherwise.
you gave him a shaky smile. “just fine. can i get another drink?”
he smiled immediately and got up to get you another.
and another.
and another.
your vision was blurring a little when you tried to cut yourself off, even as andrew was sliding another glass in front of you. you threw the drink back again, not even blinking at it.
matt and brady could be here. it was too soon to see them again, you weren't prepared to see them again. maybe if you drank enough, you’d black out and forget all about tonight.
but then andrew was grabbing your elbow, he was leading you towards the door, encroaching upon your personal space. his lips were on your neck, whispers of what he had planned for you.
your skin crawled, you wanted him off of you, but your arms were sluggish, you were tripping over your feet and he was the only thing holding you up.
“no,” you slurred. “lemme go.”
but he either didn’t hear you or was ignoring you because he kept dragging you to the door.
then the panic set in.
it felt like it came out of nowhere, but maybe the surmounting panic was always there like a loyal friend. you tried squirming out of his grip, shoving at his chest, but the panic was building the longer he held onto you. your head was shaking furiously, your mouth doing its best to protest, but it was like the alcohol made your tongue heavy.
“lemme go—” you tried shoving one more time before you heard a shout in the distance.
“hey!” you weren’t aware of the people around you being shoved to the side, you were unaware of the rage surrounding you. you were unaware until andrew was ripped away and you were being shoved into another body.
“matt hey—”
brady. you were right, brady was here.
god you loved brady.
“brady?” you slurred, smiling lazily up at him. “you’re here! why’re you here?”
with one arm, brady kept you pressed to him, but he wasn’t acknowledging you. his eyes were focused on his brother holding the collar of your date.
oh. your date.
there was no rhyme or reason for the feeling of horror that washed over you when you realized what almost happened before matt and brady showed up.
you were gonna throw up.
or pass out.
you weren’t sure when you started hyperventilating, but it felt like the walls were closing in. was the music always this loud? was matt always that loud when yelling? you wouldn’t know, he hardly ever yelled at you—
“hey,” brady’s gentle voice sounded it your ear, but it was like you were hearing it from underwater. “hey, breathe, it’s okay. you’re safe now.”
the funny thing about hyperventilating is no one wants to be hyperventilating. it’s similar to worrying in that telling someone to stop worrying is ineffective. brady telling you to breathe wasn’t helping because it wasn’t like you wanted to be light headed and struggling to get oxygen.
your mind was just racing with the thoughts of what almost happened.
were your hands shaking? or was the world just rocky? was it the alcohol? why did andrew give you so much? was he planning on—
oh god.
oh god.
“matt!” brady’s voice again sounding like a deep echo in a cave, one you could barely hear. “matt, i think he got the point, she needs you.”
did you?
but it didn’t matter what you thought, because you were being gently pulled into a pair of arms you would’ve recognized anywhere. you could be deaf, blind, and mute, you could’ve had your nose plugged so you couldn’t smell his aftershave and you still would’ve known it was matt. his arms were the only ones that felt like home.
maybe it was the way your head tucked under his chin perfectly, or the way you could hold your own hand when you wrapped your arms around his waist. maybe it was the way matt tried to fit you into his ribcage whenever he hugged you.
“hey,” his voice was quiet, hoarse from the yelling probably. “you’re okay, i’ve got you. nothing’s gonna hurt you, not while i’m here.” his lips were on the top of your head, mumbling the words into your hair.
“he—he was gonna—”
matt was shushing you, running a hand up and down your back. “do you wanna go outside? get some fresh air?” you nodded against his chest, a place you used to lay your head on at night.
matt walked you outside, brady not far behind. he was supporting most of your weight. you were still incredibly drunk even if the event that just happened sobered you up a little.
your hands were still shaking, your knees a little weak, though you weren’t sure what the original cause of that was. if it was from alcohol, the sleazy date, or just being held by your ex, you weren’t sure.
what a year tonight has been.
your heartbeat slowed down as you listened to matt’s. his hand continued to rub your back in long lines.
“you’re okay,” he continued to say. “i’m not gonna leave you. you’re safe right here, baby.”
your heart soared at the pet name until gravity kicked in and you were right back where you started.
rock bottom.
you pushed away from matt, now that your heart rate had decreased. you stumbled a bit from the lack of stability, but you managed to right yourself before matt could get his hands on you to help you balance.
“you okay?” he asked.
“no,” you mumbled, shaking your head despite the world feeling like it was spinning too fast already. “no. i’m not okay.”
matt took a step towards you, it was like watching a film in slow motion, seeing his face fall as you immediately took a step back.
“baby i—”
“stop! stop calling me that!” you yelled even as your words slurred, throwing your hands up in the air before pulling at your hair. “you—you don’t get to call me that, not anymore. and you certainly don’t get to ride in like some white knight coming to my rescue either!”
“what’re you—” he cut himself off before running a hand down his face. “he was going to hurt you, i wasn’t going to let that happen!”
maybe it was the alcohol that made you more honest than normal. “why? you don’t seem to care what happens anyway?”
“what the hell are you talking about? i would never let someone hurt you, not if i can stop it.”
“but you had no problem hurting me? leaving me in a country alone?”
matt’s jaw dropped. “you can’t seriously be comparing the two. he—he almost—he had every intention of—” but he kept cutting himself off. and by the looks of his clenched fists, it was hurting him more just thinking about it.
and he was right, what almost happened with andrew and what actually happened at the hands of matt were two different things, but it hurt more from matt, the man who swore he’d be at your side, to love you through it all. he’d dropped you like a bad habit and was expecting everything to be normal again? like you hadn’t spent over half your life completely in love with him?
you sighed, your shoulders sagged, all fight evaporating your body once more. “thanks for help, i’ll see you around.” you turned on your heel and nearly ran into brady, whom you forgot was even there.
“let me drive you home,” brady said. “‘s the least i could do.”
brady at least let you sit shotgun this time, with matt in the back. and when he pulled up to your house, matt was the one to walk you to the door like he had many times before.
“can we talk?” he asked. “sometime this week? or next? or whenever you're free?”
you looked at him, really looked at him. his hands shook at his sides and you longed to hold them in your own to steady them like he did for you earlier. “why’re you doing this to me? why can’t you just leave me be?”
matt stared at you before he pressed his lips together. he looked off to the side almost like he was looking at brady waiting in the car or a scrap of self control, or maybe just the right words to say. “i don’t think i’m capable of letting you go.”
your voice caught on the words in your throat. “i need you to try, matt. because i can’t keep doing this. you can’t call me baby when i’m not your baby anymore.”
he nodded. “just one conversation, i promise.”
you should say no. you should just let it go, but you didn’t think you could deny matt anything if he really asked for it. “okay,” you said. “just one conversation.”
#matthew tkachuk imagine#matthew tkachuk x reader#matthew tkachuk#nhl imagine#nhl imagines#nhl blurb
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take care
pairing: jason todd x gn!reader
summary: when you have a bad day at work, jason knows just the way to help you unwind.
tags: smut (18+), dom!jason todd, sub!reader, fingering, teasing, dirty talk, massages
wc: 2.1k
No matter what you try to tell yourself, you can’t stop crying. Ever since you woke up this morning, it feels like life has been throwing you the worst possible things to deal with– people being casually rude to you, your boss expecting unreasonable amounts of work done. After finally falling into bed, you completely lose it, sobbing so hard your body starts shivering.
Jason won’t be back for another couple of hours at least, and usually that’s enough time for you to unwind from work, but today you can’t stomach the thought of doing anything. Instead, you slip into sleep while the tears are still fresh on your face.
There’s a warm pat on your shoulder, and for a second, the bliss of sleep follows you from your nap into reality. But all too soon, you remember the day you’ve had and the tenseness from earlier sinks back into you.
“Hey,” Jason whispers, his hand still resting on your shoulder. “You alright?”
“Yeah– I’m,” You shake your head, stumbling across the half of the blanket that’s made it on the floor as you walk to the bathroom. “I’m just really tired. I’m going to shower, I forgot to earlier.”
You catch Jason’s concerned look from the corner of your eye, but you try not to stress about how you’re worrying him. As soon as the door closes behind you, you grip the bathroom counter and look at your reflection.
You’re so exhausted you look sick, but you don’t want to bother Jason with your own worries right now. When he’s not on patrol, he’s always researching more ways he can stop crime and minimize conflict. Really, he doesn’t have a ton of time of his own to relax, so you really shouldn’t burden him with your feelings.
After a half-hearted shower, you toss on a T-shirt and shorts before walking towards the living room. Jason’s lounging on the couch, and he waves you over to watch a movie– Pride & Prejudice 2005.
“Oh? What’s the occasion?” You say, trying for cheerful.
“Just thought we could use something familiar,” He says, placing a blanket on top of you before wrapping his arm around your shoulder.
“I’m still going to need you to explain half of what’s going on, I can’t keep up with all the characters.”
“That’s why we’re watching it,” He kisses your cheek. “I just tricked you into listening to me ramble about my favorite book.”
You giggle, and for a second you almost feel light enough to enjoy the moment. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re forgetting something, though, and when it hits you, you nearly kick the blanket off of you.
“Shit! I didn’t make anything for dinner!”
“Hey, hey,” Jason moves his hand to rub the back of your neck. “It’s okay, I got something going in the oven.”
You settle back into your place on the couch, but you feel terrible. It was your turn to make dinner today since you got off your shift first. You can’t believe you let yourself fall asleep instead! Jason doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, he just cuddles into your side further as you both watch the camera pan around Elizabeth Bennett.
Suddenly, it hits you. You know how to make up for worrying him and forgetting about dinner. At first, you subtly try and bring your hand under the blanket, feeling around until you find his thigh. When you make contact, Jason gives you a look, trying to gauge whether or not it was intentional. You give him a cheeky smile as you continue.
Jason settles into the couch, just laying back and allowing you to do what you want, still figuring out why you’re suddenly in the mood. You run your nails against the inside of his thigh, lightly at first before digging in just a little, knowing he likes it a little rough.
You finally palm him through his shorts and he lets out a small gasp. His shoulders seem to fall back and you swear you can see some of the tension Jason always carries around leaving him. Carefully, you wrap your hand around his cock, and you lazily stroke him through the fabric as he exhales through his nose. You’re about to crawl under the blanket to take off his shorts when Jason grabs you by the shoulder and pulls you up to face him.
“Alright, that’s enough of that.”
“Huh? Don’t you want me to,” you gesture to his lap instead of letting your words trip you up. “I mean, I just started now, so I should really–”
“What are you talking about?” Jason shakes his head, his fluffy hair shifts with him.
“Look, I–” You massage your forehead, trying to work through some of your anxiety. “I was going to do something for you, Jason, so just let me–”
Jason slides his hand from your shoulder across your arm until he’s supporting your hand, bringing it in so he can kiss your knuckles.
“You’re always doing stuff for me,” He whispers. “Let me return the favor.”
The speed at which you break eye contact and begin fiddling with the blanket speaks volumes to Jason. You gulp as he lowers your hand, careful not to overstep. You know that if you say the word, the two of you can stop and go back to watching the movie in front of you. But still, no matter how much residual stress keeps bothering you, you want to know what Jason has in mind for you.
“Yes,” you say.
“What?” Jason leans in, not having heard you the first time.
“Yeah–” you try to fight against your own embarrassment at accepting the invitation. “I’d like you to… take care of me.”
For a moment, the two of you sit in silence before Jason bursts into giggles. You have the sense to feel offended, but he quickly wraps his arms around you and rests his head on your shoulder.
“God, lighten up, will you? You sound so serious, it’s not that big a deal.”
Immediately you fail at keeping a straight face, and although you really don’t want to give him the win, you end up letting out a snort.
“Alright, come on,” He taps your back. “Lay on your stomach.”
“What’re you doing?” You ask, even though you’re already maneuvering into position, tossing the blanket off the couch in the process.
“Just trust me, okay? Relax, I’ve got you.”
Jason’s hands are warm when they reach your back. You take in a small inhale, not quite sure what you were expecting. He moves his hands softly at first, just stroking the skin of your back and shoulders to get you accustomed to the feeling. As soon as you start getting comfortable, he starts applying the slightest bit of pressure, kneading at your shoulder muscles.
A sound escapes you that you’re not proud of, and though you’re certain Jason is smirking, you refuse to turn around and see it. Sighing into the couch cushions, you close your eyes and let yourself fade into the feeling. Jason moves downward, massaging your back in slow motions, carefully running his knuckle down the small of your back. It’s incredible, more than, but it doesn’t feel like nearly enough.
“You can press harder, you know.”
He huffs, “See, I was thinking that, but if I hurt you right now I don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself.”
Jason has a talent for saying things like that, things that make you melt no matter what’s running through your head. To his credit, he tries, kneading out all the knots across your back, but still with lighter pressure than you would’ve given to yourself.
“Is that alright?” He asks. “You want me to keep going?”
You hum, already starting to sink into the feeling. Jason continues, hands roaming all across your back. Your eyes start to close and you can feel yourself slipping into sleep before a hand starts to move down your body, gently feeling up your ass.
“Okay?” Jason says.
“Okay–” and as soon as you respond, he kneads the sore muscles in your upper thighs and ass, and although it causes a part of you to completely melt into the cushions, a part of you feels like you’ve just had a fire lit within you.
“Jason,” you start. “If you keep going, I might… uh–”
“No, you can say it,” he whispers as he leans in, covering your body with his own so you can feel his breath across your cheek. “Tell me what I do to you.”
“Shit–” you bury your head into the couch, but Jason carefully sets hand on your head and helps you make eye contact with him.
“Talk to me,” his voice drops low. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”
He places a hand on top of one of yours resting in front of you. You flip your hand over and interlock your fingers with his. A barely audible exhale escapes from Jason as he gives your hand a squeeze.
“I want you to finger me.”
He’s smirking as he kisses your cheek, his lips trailing lower to your jawline before you even have time to register his movements. It’s like a switch has flipped in him, like he’s finally allowing himself to let loose for your sake. Like all he ever wants is to make you feel good if only you’ll allow him to.
The hand not holding yours moves from your ass to your inner thigh, softly rubbing circles only centimeters away from your slit. He catches you closing your eyes again, getting lost in the comfort around you and he gives your upper thigh a pinch.
You give a small shout, and Jason uses the opening to slot two fingers in your mouth. He doesn’t even need to give the command, you’re already sucking him on instinct. Always efficient, Jason unclasps your hands to reach for the lube in the side table drawer while you’re distracted. He pulls his fingers from your mouth with a pop.
“Are you ready, baby?”
“Because I can keep going if you’re not ready–” he pretends, as if he didn’t have a perfect view of your signal.
You nod, but your head is still mostly shoved against the surface of the couch.
“Jason! Fucking go!”
He snickers as lubes his fingers before gently working one in. How typical, even when he’s being nice, he still can’t help but be a tease. His pace is slow but thorough, working himself all the way into your heat before sliding out, only to rush back whenever you seem to get used to the sensation.
Already being relaxed from the massage must be getting to you, because as soon as you stretch to accommodate his second finger, your breathing starts to quicken. He speeds up slightly, moving to kiss the spot between your jaw and neck, nibbling a small mark despite knowing it’s in the perfect spot to be seen.
He finally starts hitting the spot inside of you where he’s needed, and you almost yelp in relief.
“Faster,” you sigh, and gratefully, Jason listens. He quickens his pace, hitting inside of you with accuracy, and leaning on top of you now to better the angle. You can feel the planes of his chest against your back, and the warmth radiating off of him causes your face to heat up.
“Ah–” you start, and Jason is able to get it out before you can.
“You’re close?”
This time when you nod your head, he accepts your answer and continues the same speed and intensity. He uses his other hand to grip you by the shoulder and force your head up so he can hear your gasps. Jason moves his head close to your ear again, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he whispers, “Come for me.”
You groan, naturally wanting to bury your cries into the cushions, but Jason’s grip stops you. The casual show of his strength has you thrusting back towards his fingers, and he dutifully works you through your orgasm until you’re finished.
He flips you so you don’t end up falling asleep with your airflow cut off, and under his observant gaze you finally stop trying to cover yourself up. You flash your teeth, and Jason rubs the curve of your cheek with his thumb before slipping off the couch to get a towel to clean up.
#dc comics#gn reader#smut#dc smut#dc#jason todd x gn!reader#jason todd smut#jason todd x you#jason todd#dom!jason todd#sub reader#red hood#red hood x gn!reader#red hood x reader#red hood smut#jason todd x reader
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Something About Finals pt 2
Hiya. So this is Part 2 of Something About Finals. This was originally all 1 story but then it was almost 10K so oops. Anyways, have 2 stories ahahah
shout out to @lyak12 for fixing my google translated German
Lena Oberdorf x Reader
Part 1 : Part 2
Description: R and Finals do not get along
Word Count: 6.3k
also these pictures are doing something to me
And then you were off to the World Cup.
You were shocked to receive the phone call that informed you, you had made the final squad. Lena wasn’t though, she had seen the hours of work that you had put in, the dedication, the effort, the blood, sweat and tears. You had kissed her goodbye much like you had done before the Euros, reassuring each other that no matter what, you were there, and you loved the other with all your heart. You weren’t able to watch many of her matches since you often had some form of training or your own matches that got in the way. But you always had the score notifications on. England sailed through the group stages with comparative ease … well definitely easier than Germany had. You had flicked on the final seconds of her match to see Lena sink to her knees. You heart broke for her, a lump forming in your throat as you saw the love of your life look so devastated. You sent her a quick text asking her to call you when she had a moment and reaffirming your love.
“Hey, bubba,” you said softly as her facetime call connected.
“Hi, liebling.” You had never heard her sound so … down. Even after losing the Champions League and the Euros, there was still a little life to her voice. But not now. Now, she sounded so low, so unlike your usual Lena.
“It’s not your fault, you know that, right?” You cut straight to the point. You knew what would be going through her mind. She wouldn’t make eye contact with you through the phone. “Obi, my love. Das ist nicht deine Schuld.” You said emphatically.
“But, if I had just-” She started, trying to prove to you that it really was her fault
“Lena Sophie Oberdorf,” you snapped. “I will not hear it. Das ist nicht. Deine. Schuld.” She nodded but you could tell she didn’t believe you. You carried the rest of the phone call, telling her about the silly in-camp gossip and drama, nearly pulling out a whole stand up show to get her to laugh, or at least smile again. You had ended the conversation as the clock flashed 12, probably a bit too late for you to be up but you wanted to keep talking for as long as possible.
“Bubba, I need to go to sleep,” you said as you went about your night routine, grateful that FIFA had splurged on giving you your own rooms for the tournament.
“Don’t go,” she whined, equally as tired but just as unwilling to hang up the phone.
“Ok, honey. How about I stay on the phone until you fall asleep, yeh?” You could see her perk up slightly, despite the dark circles under her eyes that told you she was not getting enough sleep in the past few weeks. You waited until you heard her breaths even out, her phone in a similar position to you resting against the pillow. You smiled softly, wishing her sweet dreams as you hung up the phone. You sent two texts before you snuggled down to sleep yourself. One to Lena for her to see in the morning, telling her how proud you were of her and how much you loved her. The other was to Alex, sending her the biggest hugs and asking her to keep an eye on Lena for you until you could make it back to her.
The World Cup was a rollercoaster of emotions. But now you were in the final. Just like the Euro final, there was an aura of nervous calm across the England changing rooms … if that was even the best way to describe it. Everyone was doing their pre-match rituals and routine, getting themselves in the right headspace to step foot on the pitch. But there was a nervousness in the air, the anticipation of finally gaining that star above the badge.
Everything was not going to plan. You were still 1-0 down with just 5 minutes left of regular time. Hermoso had the ball as you crowded her out, pressing yourself against her to toe the ball away from her. You had succeeded too, letting Kiera tap it over to Georgia to start another press. You had the weirdest sense of Déjà vu as you turned around, separating yourself from the Spanish defender and moving into the open space. You gasped as you twisted, something popping in your right knee. The familiar pain radiated down your shin and up your thigh causing you to scream as you collapsed to the floor.
No, no, no. Not again. This could not be happening again.
“Kid, what’s wrong?” It was Lucy who appeared by your side first, exactly like the last time.
“Not again.” You whimpered, letting out a sob as you hit your fist on the grass, trying to push the pain away.
“Is it your knee?” Millie asked. This was all too similar to last time and it made you cry even harder. You couldn’t tell if you were nodding or not, but Millie just scratched your head. Just like last time. “It’s ok, honey. The medics are coming.” She patted your hand as you clutched at it. You groaned and whimpered as the medics moved you around, never letting go of Millie and staring straight at Lucy, the layer of tears making it hard to see properly.
Just like last time, the hideous orange stretcher lifted you away as you were clapped off the pitch. Just like last time, you were carried into the medical room and placed on the awaiting bed.
“Kid?” A voice called out as they ran down the corridor. Someone must have pointed whoever it was in the right direction as the next moment, a very flustered and out of breath Leah appeared, phone gripped in one hand. “Yeh, I’m with her now," she directed to whoever was on the phone. “Honey, I’ve got Lena on the phone," she said as she came to your side. You nodded, wiping away the tears on your cheeks.
“Hey, liebling.”
“H-hi.” It set you off on another round of tears, Leah drawing you into her.
“Oh, liebe. It’s ok.” Lena said so gently as she tried to fight her own tears.
She was sitting on the couch in your flat back in Wolfsburg watching the final with most of the team. The disappointment she felt when the ball bounced past Mary’s fingers was nothing compared to the fear she felt as you went to the floor. Not again. Please don’t let this happen again. She thanked the lucky stars she had the forethought years ago to ask for a few of your national friends phone numbers in case she needed to get a hold of you but couldn’t during international breaks. She had just pulled out her phone when Leah’s contact flashed on her screen. She accepted it before she really knew what was happening.
“I’m going down to see her now,” is what Leah had said as soon as the call went through. Alex had rubbed comforting circles on Lena’s back as Jule held tightly onto her open hand.
“Let me switch to facetime,” Leah said, gently taking the phone off you and pressing the right buttons. Lena’s concerned face popped up, taking in Leah’s frazzled expression and your hair pressed against her shoulder, hiding your face from the world. “C’mon, honey.” Leah coaxed you out from her neck, handing you her phone and moving to step away.
“Stay.” You croaked, clutching onto Leah like a lifeline. She nodded, moving her arms to support you as you rested your head back on her shoulder.
“Hallo, liebling.” Lena started again, moving off the sofa and into your bedroom, the soft expression of love visible on her features. “It is your knee?” You sniffed, nodding at her words. She hadn’t seen you look this small, this unsure … ever, she doesn’t think.
“I don’t think I can do this again,” you whispered. Leah knew you were talking to Lena, but she couldn’t help but squeeze you even tighter at your words, her heart breaking. Only you and Lena knew of the extent of your bad days. The days that getting out of bed seemed like too much effort and all you wanted to do was sleep and embrace the darkness. The days were all you could do was silently cry, gripping onto Lena so tightly your knuckles had turned white, and your fingers had started to cramp.
“Das kannst du, liebling. Das kannst du auf jeden Fall. Erinnerst du dich, an das, was ich nach dem EM-Finale gesagt habe? Du schaffst das, und ich gehe nirgendwo hin, du nusst das nicht alleine schaffen.”
“It hurts, bubba.”
“I know, liebe. I know.” Lena implored, Leah squeezing you again at you words. “Aber, du bist so, so stark. Du kannst das.” You shook your head, letting the tears roll steadily down your cheeks. “Ich liebe dich so sehr.”
“I love you too,” you replied, your lashes wet and face red. Did she really mean that? How could she love you after all you had put her through in the past year? Why would she want to stay with you after the nightmare you had been? And now, you were going to put her through it all again. You had clearly disappeared into your mind, certainly enough for Lena to notice. You eyes had unfocused, a faraway look on your face as the thoughts spiralled out of control. You couldn’t do this again. The last time was almost too much to bear. This time … you couldn’t let yourself lean on Lena like you did … she wouldn’t want you to. Why would anyone want a washed-up 21-year-old footballer as their girlfriend? Why would someone want a partner who struggled to keep the bad thoughts at bay? Your breathing had slowed down, the breaths coming far fewer than necessary.
“Hey, hey. Komm zu mir zurück.” Lena called out, catching Leah’s eye in the camera, and exchanging worried looks. Leah shook you gently when you made no effort to acknowledge what Lena had said. You jumped slightly, clearly coming back to the room around you.
“Ich denke … I think … ich denke das könnte mich kaputt machen.” You whispered, sounding so scared of what the future might hold. It was easier to say in your second language. It made it less real.
“Dann werde ich da sein, um dich wieder aufzubauen.” Lena promised. “We all will be.” You looked at her unsurely. How could she promise that? “I know what you’re thinking … stop it.” You looked away sheepishly, turning into Leah more. “I love you more than you will ever, ever understand,” Lena said emphatically, willing you to feel her love even though you were more than 10,000 miles away. She wanted nothing more than to be there in person. She should have stayed in Australia. She should have been at the final, cheering you on. She should have been in that small medical room, letting you cry into her chest.
A throat cleared from the door, a man in the England medical staff shirt sheepishly stuck his head through the gap.
“I’m sorry, duck. But we gotta run some more tests and stuff. Get you strapped up and whatnot.” His broad Yorkshire accent echoed in the small space. You nodded, looking up at Leah, then back to her phone.
“We’ll just be a minute,” Leah smiled at him. He frowned then realisation dawned on him. He smiled at you and shut the door.
“Bubba, I’ve got to go.” You said shyly.
“Ok, liebling. Stay safe, ja?” She smiled; even through the pixels, you could tell it wasn’t meeting her eyes all the way.
“Stets,” you replied automatically. “Ich liebe dich.”
“Ich liebe dich auch.”
“Don’t worry, Lena. She’s in safe hands until we can get her back to Germany,” Leah smiled, rubbing her hands up and down your arms and winking into the camera.
“She better be, Williamson. If she doesn’t make it home to me in one piece, England will never get their captain back.” She faux-threatened, grateful to see the small smile gracing you lips.
The flight back to Germany was nothing like the flight home from the Euros. Instead of Lena guiding you through the airport, sending intimidating glares at anyone in your path, you had Leah and Jill. Leah was absolutely useless. You gave her a little bit of grace considering she was still very much recovering from her own ACL injury but still, she was completely unhelpful and very much not the safe hands that she had promised Lena. Jill was … less useless. She at least took the initiative to wheel your suitcases along for you and helped guide you through to the right gate. But she was a horrible flyer. She was nervous and that led to the constant need to fidget. When she eventually fell asleep, it had been on your shoulder, pinning you in place for the majority of the flight which did not help you swollen knee. You had never been more grateful to hear the Captain announce your descent into Braunschweig airport. You were so thankful that Leah and Jill had diverted their flights to Wolfsburg for you instead of flying straight to Gatwick, but you couldn’t help the desire for them to, in the nicest way possible, fuck off. They were constantly bothering you; they were always checking if you needed anything or wanted something. You knew they meant well, and you were so, so appreciative of their efforts but it was very irritating when all you wanted to do was sleep away the flights and layovers.
Seeing Lena at the arrivals gate was like a breath of fresh air, like breaking the surface of a pool after being under for too long, like stepping into an air-conditioned room on a hot summers day.
“Hey, liebling.”
“Hi, bubba.” You crutched your way into her embrace, her warm, soft, strong arms cementing themselves around your shoulders as you buried your nose in her hoodie, taking deep breaths of your favourite smell, letting the scent seep into your bones and ease your aching muscles.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come back to ours? We’ve got a pull-out couch and an air mattress.” She asked over your shoulder to Leah and Jill.
“Nah, it’s all good mate. We’ve got flights and stuff tomorrow so we’re just staying at the hotel here.” Leah explained. You lifted your head out of your hiding place and extending one arm towards Leah. She took you hand, and you squeezed tightly.
“Thank you.” You said to her, sending a tired smile her way. She smiled back.
“Of course, kid. You know I’d do anything for you, we all would.”
“Stay safe, yeh? Have lots of rest and drink plenty of water.” Jill reminded you, taking your hand from Leah and pressing a kiss to the back of it.
“Yes, mum.” You teased lightly, although Lena knew it was only a façade, an attempt to prove you were fine.
“Love you lots, kiddo.”
“Love you too, guys.” You watched them both walk away before turning back to Lena, never once leaving her embrace.
“Willkommen zu Hause, superstar,” Lena whispered in your ear, smiling as your arms tightened around her waist. “Let’s get you home, liebling.”
“Just … wait. Let me stay here for a minute.” You refused to loosen your grip. You took deep steady breaths that Lena could tell was your attempt at pushing away the darkness.
Eventually, you did make it home, Lena’s hand on your thigh the entire time. The movement of the car, Lena’s soft hum as she sang alone to the radio, the comforting smell … all of it was too much. As you entered your flat, you couldn’t help but let the tears flow. You had been doing that a lot recently. Your knee was hot and sore, the brace was itchy and ugly, Lena was too kind and comforting, you were tired and angry and scared and sad, and it was all too much.
“Liebe?” Lena asked as she came back from the bedroom. She rushed over to where you stood, in the middle of the tiny living room hysterically sobbing. “Oh, liebling.” She didn’t promise you it was all ok, that you were fine and that things would work out in the end. She knew that was not what you wanted to hear. “Es kann sein, dass es dir im Moment nicht gut geht,” she said as she pulled you to her, letting your tears soak her collar. “I can be ok for the both of us, right now,” she vowed. “I’m not going anywhere. You are safe. You are loved.”
You didn’t know how long you stood in the middle of your tiny flat with Lena whispering sweet nothings in your ear, but you did end up in bed, your leg elevated and iced and your girlfriend curling herself around you.
“I’m scared, bubba. Really, really scared,” you whispered into the darkness, long after you should have gone to sleep.
“And that’s ok, liebling. It’s ok to be scared. What happened was really scary, especially so close to last time.” She whispered back, her fingers drawing shapes on the exposed skin of your waist. Only 385 days in between tearing your left ACL and snapping your right one. 1 year and 20 days. 55 weeks. 9240 hours. 554,400 minutes. 33,264,000 seconds. “I love you. And I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere,” she promised.
The next year of your life was the hardest you had ever done. Every time the shadows threatened to overwhelm you, to engulf your entire being and never let you back into the light, Lena was there. She didn’t even realise most of the time. The first few days after returning from Australia was tough but manageable. You had cried some more … a lot more, especially after you shut the door behind Jule and Sveindís as they left your home. It was controllable up until Lena had to go back to preseason training. She had delayed it as long as she could, the club had allowed her a few days to help you resettle into your routine. When her alarm chimed at 8 am that Monday morning, you knew it was going to a rough one. The tiredness, the ache that had settled deep within your soul felt extra heavy. Lena had been reluctant to leave you, and you had wanted her to stay so, so desperately but you slapped on a brave face and watched her from underneath your mound of blankets on the couch as she went about her morning routine. Bathroom. Shower. Coffee. Breakfast. Bathroom again. Out the door. It was a routine the two of you had mastered years ago had hardly ever deviated, yet here you were – catching the kisses she blew your way as she left for the day.
You had tried really hard to keep the darkness away, and you had almost … almost achieved it. It wasn’t until one late afternoon, a week or so before the regular season began, when you had tried to make yourself a cup of hot chocolate and had splashed boiling water of the side of the cup and dropped the mug that everything came to a head.
You were angry, and frightened, and unsure, and in so much pain. You screamed. It hurt your throat, but you didn’t care. You yelled, cursing the universe for doing this to you. It was pure emotion that bubbled up inside. You tugged at your hair, you scratched deep red lines across your stomach, rubbed harshly at your eyes. Anything … anything to make these feelings disappear. You didn’t even realise Lena had come home. She knew you hadn’t been doing well. The physio had pulled her aside after your session to ask for help. Every member of the team, staff and players alike, had recognised your slow descent into the blackness. It wasn’t like the previous time. You had been optimistic last time, excited to be reaching your milestones and goals. But this time it was a struggle to get you into the training centre, let alone the gym and to do any exercises. You weren’t yourself and it was painfully obvious that something was wrong.
She rushed to your side, dropping her bags carelessly on her way over.
“Ok, ok,” she shushed you, wrapping her arms tightly around you to stop yourself from hurting you even more. You struggled at first, out of shock or anger neither one of you was really sure. But you slowly started to calm down. Her body ground you, the warmth at you back providing an anchor to cling to. She rocked you gently from side to side, mindful of your knee but knowing the action soothed you. She stayed silent until you leant heavily against her, most of your weight now being held by her.
“I need help.” It was all you could say. This was no way to live, and you knew that. That’s what made it worse for you was that you knew you weren’t ok; you knew you needed some serious assistance and had been needing it for quite a while. She hummed in agreement, thankful that you could recognise how bad it was.
“We can talk about it later. But first a shower, and then snuggles in bed.” There was no room for argument, not when she was already guiding you to the bathroom. The shower was hot and steamy as Lena cleaned your skin with her body wash, littering kisses as the water washed the suds away. She massaged your head as she worked the shampoo and conditioner through your hair, taking care to untangle the knots. She worked your moisturiser across your body, taking time to go through your neglected skincare regime and pull the softest t-shirt she owned over your head. She took your hand as she guided you to the bedroom, picking up your brush and hairdryer on the way to the vanity. She was so gentle as she dried your hair, braiding it back for you once it was dried. She settled you against the pillows before she slipped in beside you, resting her head against your collarbone and throwing a leg across your waist.
“I’m sorry.” You stared at the ceiling trying very hard not to cry, instead letting your fingers card through the brown strands of hair that were loose down her back.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she argued softly, squeezing you as she made her point
“Yes, I have. I’ve been a shite girlfriend.”
“No, you haven’t. You’ve been going through some real shit.”
“But,”
“Nein. Ich werde es nicht hören,” she refused, drawing shapes on your arm. “You have been through hell and back, yet you always ask about my day. You always stand next to me when I make dinner. You always hold me at night. You always let me choose what to watch on TV, even if you don’t like it. It might be a little dark for you right now, but I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. I told you I was in this for as long as you want me, remember?”
“Of course, I do.” How could you forget your unconventional way of getting together?
“And do you still want me?” she asked.
“Of course, I do.” You repeated, kind of shocked that she would ask such a thing. “I want you forever.”
“Then you have me forever. I’m not going anywhere, and it’s time you started realising that.” You blinked rapidly, trying not to cry for a totally different reason.
“You are perfect, Lena Oberdorf.”
“You are perfect, Y/F/N Y/S/N.” You pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“I think I need to talk to a professional, like go to therapy or something.” You said a little while later. Neither of you had moved, just soaking up each other’s presence.
“I think that a very smart idea,” she answered, choosing her words carefully. “Do you want it to be with the club or completely separate?”
“I don’t know,” you worried. You hadn’t really got that far in your thinking, you only recognised that you needed the professional intervention.
“That’s ok,” she reassured you. “The club can recommend someone, like a ... Sportpsychologe, or you can go to the doctors and sort something out by yourself.”
“Would … would you come with me to talk to the club doctors?” You asked. It was silly really, she spent almost every waking hour reminding you that she was by your side.
“Natürlich. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else … unless you want to be alone,” she rushed.
“No, no. I want you there. You keep the bad thoughts away.” You had never told her that, you were sure she knew it in some way.
The next morning, you felt lighter, the ache in your body not as pronounced as previous days. Lena walked with you to the medics office, standing like a silent lighthouse to guide you through the choppy waters. She kissed you softly as you parted for training, her going out with the rest of the team as you went to the gym. It was a sudden change; it wasn’t like a switch had been flicked and suddenly you were all better. But with every passing training session and talk with the therapist, you stood slightly taller, you no longer looked at the weights with distain, you huffed at jokes and eventually started laughing again. You still had your dark days, but things were slowly looking up. The storm was clearing for you, the path more clear with every little success. Walking on one crutch. Walking with no crutches. Weighted exercises. Running on the treadmill with assistance. Running on the treadmill without assistance. Progress was slow, much slower than last time, but it was happening, nonetheless.
The biggest factor in your progress came from an unexpected source. Lena had been approached by her agent in November about an offer from Bayern. The two of you had talked it through at length and came to the conclusion that she should go for it. You had lamented over the idea of long distance, but you knew your love was one for the ages. If Lena could put up with you during the dark days (although she hated when described it as putting up with you. It had been the spark of a few arguments), you knew you could last the time. You still had a year left on your contract for you to be going on a free, so you also reached out to your agent to tell him to start the process of looking at a potential move. It was then that he said an email had come through from another team in Germany looking to sign you. You had questioned the legitimacy; how could a club want to sign you when you had so little playing time? You cried when the forwarded email arrived in your inbox. Bayern wanted you too. The email explained that they were willing to spend the necessary money to get both you and Lena on their team, recognising the undeniable chemistry you had. It was true; almost every goal Lena scored when you were on the pitch, you had been involved in. It was a no brainer – you were phoning the agency back to accept the deal before you even spoke to Lena. You kept it under lock and key for about 2 weeks, making sure your surprise was perfect.
“Liebling?” Lena shouted as she walked through the door, confused as to your location. Normally, when you were home before she was, you were either making a start on dinner or on the couch – both of which were visible from the entryway.
“Nur eine Minute,” you shouted, voice coming from the closed bedroom door. “Sit on the sofa please, I have something to show you.” Lena did what she was told, highly puzzled by your behaviour. Was she missing some important date? She quickly ran through the key ones in her mind, your birthday? No, her birthday? No, that was in December, your anniversary? No, that was in between Christmas and New Year's. Valentines Day? No, it was only mid-January. In all her worrying, she had missed you walking out of the bedroom. You waited for her to notice you and when that was not forthcoming, you nudged her gently with your foot. She jumped slightly, looking up at you. She drank in your smooth bare legs, blinking in surprise and smirking appreciatively when she realised that you only had on a shirt, your hair fluffed up and makeup done to perfection.
“What’s all this?” she asked, reaching out to hold your hips. You stepped back, chuckling at her pout.
“Look at my shirt, bubba,” you nodded down at your chest, hoping she would catch the logo. As she scanned up the red fabric, she began to recognise the material, the infamous Allianz logo splattered across your torso had the gears turning in her head. Finally, she made eye contact with the Bayern logo.
“Ein Bayern-Trikot?” You span around, showing her your back – although she was more focussed on your exposed arse than whose name was on it. “I am loving the view, liebe,” she teased.
“No, dipshit. Whose name is on the back?” She reluctantly broke her stare and scanned the writing.
“Y/S/N? Liebling, I don’t think Wolfsburg will like you wearing a personalised Bayern shirt.” God, she could be dense at times.
“No, bubs,” you sighed, turning back to face her and shoving lightly on her shoulders. She shuffled back on the couch, allowing you to straddle her lap. Her hands automatically went to your waist, although the confused expression still lingered on her features.
“You can be so thick sometimes, Obi,” you laughed at her offended squawk. “I got an email from my agent a few weeks ago,” you explained, pulling her hair out her ponytail. “I’ve got an offer,” you hinted, playing with the ends of her now-loose strands. You raised an eyebrow, looking from her to the logo on your shirt and back again.
“B-Bayern?” She whispered, trying to keep the hope and excitement at bay.
“Bayern,” you nodded, a wide grin spreading across your face.
“Scheisse … oh, mein Gott. Oh, mein Gott!” She launched her body forward, slamming you into a hug. “You’re going to Bayern?” She asked, her voice muffled by the fabric.
“We’re going to Bayern,” you corrected, drawing her head away from your collarbone.
“Ich liebe dich,” Her eyes flitted between yours and your lips.
“I love you,” you drew her to you, relishing in the quite hum she let out.
It took until the spring for you to start training with the team again. Lena had been with you the whole time. If you thought she was excited the first-time round, she was on cloud 9 this time. She had been buzzing with energy when you told her you were to go out on the grass again. You could see her practically vibrating with joy as you slipped on your underused boots again. She had bounded over to you, chatting away and generally irritating everyone, but her energy was infectious. Running again after so long was … words could not describe the feeling.
Slowly but surely, you were returning back to your old self. You and Tommy had sat down with the medical team discuss your return to match squad. You were performing well at training and things were looking up. You felt ready for the ‘less important’ matches. With the league mathematically won by Bayern with 2 match days to spare, Wolfsburg were more willing to let you return sooner rather than later. But with the Pokal final being the only chance at silverware, the management was reluctant to even sub you in. And honestly, you weren’t sure you were ready for a final just yet. The last three finals you had played in, the Euros, the Champions League, and the World Cup, had not gone your way, two of them being the worst games of your life. You agreed to be on the bench as an unused sub, you knew you had to start getting over the phobia and figured this would be a good way to start – just being in the atmosphere of a final with no pressure to play or perform. You could do that.
You stuck to your old match day routine, the known comforts helping to calm your nerves. It all started with the pitch inspection with Lena, hands brushing together as you walked too close to just be friends, although you had quickly darted over to see Georgia.
“Are you playing?” Georgia asked.
“What? No, oh my god, hi, I haven’t seen you in so long?” you teased, hugging her tightly.
“Hi,” she said bluntly, “are you playing?” squeezing you back just as tightly.
“No,” you shook your head. “Apparently, I’m to view this as a form of exposure therapy.” She looked at you quizzically. “Doing your ACL twice, both of which in a final, kinda fucks with your head,” you joked. She nodded solemnly. “Also, I have some news,” you added. “But you better keep your bloody mouth shut though, Stanway,” you pointed a finger at her. “No telling Leah or Kei or Luce or anyone else until at least the end of the season,” you threatened.
“Alright, alright, what’s the big news then, if it’s so top secret?”
“I got an offer, I’m leaving Wolfsburg.”
“Oh, my god. Where to?” She squealed. You had voiced your concerns to her over the phone about staying in Wolfsburg without Lena.
“Um …” you took a deep breath. “Bayern,” you said confidently. She paused, her mouth open slightly.
“You’re moving to Bayern?” She screeched.
“Lock and key, Stanway,” you emphasised but nodding and smiling anyway. You looked over your shoulder when you heard Lena call your name. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you soon, yeah?” You hugged her again.
“Love you lots and lots,” she said, shaking you jokingly.
“Yeah, yeah. Love you too, hope you play like shite,” you jested, laughing as she flipped you off.
The final was going well, you remained calm and collected. Lena had brushed your hair into your usual hairstyle, taking care to smooth your fly aways down. You returned the favour by lacing up her boots, pressing kisses to each knee as you finished. Things were going swimmingly, until Lena got tangled up with the Bayern keeper, and fell to the ground.
“Mein Knie.” You heard her shout from all away across the pitch. You blood froze, your heart sank. No, no, no, this could not … no. You reached blindly for Sveindís as the medics ran on, your eyes never leaving Lena’s body.
“It’s ok, she’s fine.” Sveindís promised, squeezing your hand.
“Her knee,” you croaked.
“Sie bewegt sich, siehst du, die Sanitäter sind jetzt bei ihr. Sie redet, sie bewegt sich. She’s ok.” Marina squeezed your shoulder from behind you, sending you a comforting smile, despite the fact you couldn’t see it. You kept your eyes on her even as she stood up, flexing her knee and walking off the pitch with the medics. Despite reassurances from all the team and the medical staff who had treated her, you never looked away from Lena. You had to make sure she was ok. You stared at her face, trying to register any slight look of discomfort.
When the half time whistle went, you were the first out of your seat, hovering by the tunnel entrance for Lena to appear. She must have seen your anxiousness from a mile away. You were fidgeting with your fingers, biting your lip as you scanned the incoming players.
“Hey,” she said, tapping you on the shoulder. You careened into her, your arms tightening around her waist. “I’m ok. I’m ok,” she repeated over and over again, her hand rubbing up and down your back, feeling you shakily take breaths to stop any waterworks.
“Don’t ever do that again!” You pulled back from her, keeping her in an embracing though.
“I’ll try not to,” she chuckled at your seriousness.
“I mean it, bubba. That was terrifying.” Your mouth setting to a firm line and eyebrows furrowing.
“I know, liebling. And I’m sorry I caused you so much stress.” She let her thumb move across your cheek. “Aber ich verspreche dir, mir geht es absolut gut. My knees are ok, your knees are ok. Alles ist gut.”
“Fucking hate finals,” you grumbled, twisting your body so you could walk back to the changing room without letting go.
“Ich weiß, dass du das tust, Liebling, ich weiß."
I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3<3
#woso community#woso x reader#woso#woso fanfics#woso blurbs#woso imagine#woso oneshot#woso series#lena oberdorf x reader#lena oberdorf#engwnt x reader#lionesses x reader#lionesses#vfl wolfsburg women#vfl wolfsburg frauen#vfl wolfsburg x reader#fc bayern#dfb frauen#fc bayern women#fc bayern frauen
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ellie williams x reader ୨୧ ♡
use of strap, slight degradation, slapping, hair pulling, overstimulation, oral ( reader receiving )
‘ what did i tell you about acting like a fucking brat in front of my friends ? ‘ ellie delivered a harsh slap to the back of your thigh, a gasp leaving your lips at the painful sensation. you and ellie had been at a party thrown by none other than jesse when your girlfriend finally snapped. ‘ wanna grind against me and whisper shit in my ear all for you to leave and not answer your phone when i’m calling you. ‘ she pulled off your denim skirt, leaving you in your heels. ‘ i just wanted your attention. ‘ you winced as she pushed your head into the pillows of your bed, lining herself up with your entrance.
‘ yeah, well you have it now. ‘ she pushed herself inside of you, your hands flying out to grip the sheets. ellie grunted as she started thrusting, her pace unforgiving. ‘ this is what you wanted all night ? wanted me to fuck you ? ‘ she balled up your hair, yanking hard as you moaned. ‘ y-yes, ellie— fuck ‘ you stuttered, squeezing around her cock. ‘ shit, ‘ she cursed, one hand digging into your hip, and the other holding you down by your neck. ellie felt like she was on cloud nine, forgetting that she was supposed to be punishing you.
she pulled out, making you whine at the sudden empty feeling between your legs. ‘ i’m not supposed to be giving you what you want. ‘ she turned you over, your pretty face making her breathing stutter as she pulled you to the edge of the bed. your eyebrows knitted in confusion before you felt her tongue attack your clit, your back arching as a coil started forming in your tummy. your fingers ran through her hair, tugging at the roots when a particular stroke of her tongue made your toes curl. you mewled, your hips chasing her lips as you felt your orgasm nearing.
ellie knew your body through and through, pulling away from your soaked cunt when your chest started rising and falling with each breath. you whimpered, about to interject before she slammed into you again, dragging your legs on top of her shoulders. ‘ i can’t, ‘ you reached for her, tears welling in your eyes as she pinned your arms down. ‘ you’re gonna fucking take it. ‘ ellie groaned, her free hand covering your mouth as you moaned against her palm.
ellie moved her hand, satisfied to see your lipgloss smudged against your skin, looking like a fucked out mess underneath her. she felt herself teetering on the edge herself, her thumb rubbing hard circles on your clit. ‘ els, please let me cum .. ‘ you nearly screamed at the added penetration, ellie leaning down to kiss you. ‘ let me hear you, baby, give it to me. ‘ with her permission, the coil in your stomach snapped, your breath getting stolen out of your lungs as you shook in her arms.
ellie’s pace didn’t slow, and neither did her thumb on your clit as you whimpered at the overstimulation. ‘ you’re gonna give me one more, right angel ? ‘ she got on her knees, her mouth latching onto your clit for the last time. ‘ wait— oh, god. ‘ your back arched off of the sheets, the feeling of her fingers curling inside of you and hitting that sweet spot making you see stars. ‘ i can’t, ellie ! ’ you sobbed, your legs closing around her head. she looked up at you, her eyes dark as she separated your thighs, pinning them down so you couldn’t move.
you gasped, cried, and thrashed until she brought you to a second orgasm, this one stronger than the first. you stopped breathing, your eyes rolling back as ellie entered you to finally get herself done. ‘ holy shit, yn. ‘ she cupped your face, her fingers tapping on your throat to urge you to take a breath. ‘ e-ellie, ‘ your voice sounded weak as you came down from your high, your girlfriend leaving sloppy kisses along your jaw. it wasn’t until after she pulled out of you that she finally let go of your thighs, your legs falling limp. ellie looked down, taking your heels off before pulling the covers over you.
your eyelids fell heavy with sleep, the girl next to you tracing shapes into your skin as she pressed a kiss in the curve of your neck, whispering against your skin. ‘ did you learn something today ? ‘ you couldn’t help the small smile that formed on your lips. ‘ no.. ‘
this uglee n rushed asfk srry
𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐘𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐋 | all rights reserved — do not modify, copy, or plagiarize any of my works.
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Anyone but me
Insecure!Logan x Fem!Reader
warnings: Cursing, Insecure Logan
A/N: Here’s something short, I wasn’t gonna post since today makes 10 years since my grandpa passed but I didn’t wanna make today abt me. Enjoy.
Another race. Miami had been another race this season that has been shit for Logan. Why was something always fucking it up for him?
First they gave him shitty cars, then whenever they did give Logan a somewhat good car, he wasn’t driving it the way he should, then they gave away his car to Alex after he crashed his. Now he had to retire the car because KMag decided to crash into him?
It’s almost lil the universe is against Logan and his time in Formula 1, which might I add is utter bullshit.
Logan hasn’t been the best driver and I knew that, but I didn’t fall in love with him because he’s a formula 1 driver, no, I fell in love with him because he’s always been there for me even when he was going through his own problems and has never once complained about it (him being a famous driver was just a perk).
Logan and I have been together for just over 2 years which means I’ve seen the best and worst of his career, but right now after he got hit at his home race was heart wrenching.
I stood by the tv screens that showed his camera footage live from his car and my hands shot up to my face when I saw the impact of the crash. The crash wasn’t what made my heart shatter for him though, no, instead it was the live radio feed from him to pit that I was currently listening to.
His groans of pain and the tremble in his voice asking if he did anything wrong was what hurt. He was so worried and scared that he fucked up something whilst driving that he didn’t pay attention to whether or not he was hurt.
They replayed that crash maybe a dozen times and each time felt like it stung worse than the previous one before it. I watched as they got the track clear from any debris and brought Logan and the car back to the Williams garage. The look of red eyes and tear stained cheeks was the sight I was greeted with.
I would’ve done anything to take his pain away in that moment. Hell, I would do anything to make sure he never felt pain again. But unfortunately, I can’t. So I had to suffice for the next best thing, comforting him.
I walked over to him and the second he turned and saw me walking over with a somber look on my face he rushed into my arms, pulling me into a tight embrace before absolutely sobbing.
The team around us walked off allowing us a moment of peace while I comforted my boyfriend. His face was in the crook of my neck as he shook with violent sobs and I rubbed my hands up and down his back trying to soothe the ache in his heart.
“Logan you did amazing, it wasn’t your fault. I’m so proud of you. You’ve come so far, I love you so much” I whispered in his ear as I kissed the side of his head.
We stayed like this for a moment, as Logan continued to sob I continued to try to soothe him and murmur sweet nothings in his ear with more small kisses on his head.
After a moment or two, I felt Logan pull away before he looked me in my eyes. I could tell he wanted to say something.
“What happened, Baby?” I whisper as I bring my hands up to his face to wipe his tears away
“I don’t deserve you.” He whispers, his voice breaking again as he moves my hands from his face
“Lo, don’t” I say, tears of my own springing in my eyes
“No Y/N/N, please. I don’t deserve you. I’m not good enough, you deserve to be with someone who wins and makes podiums. Not me, someone who finishes last or doesn’t finish at all.” by the time Logan was done berating himself, I was the one sobbing.
“Logan Hunter Sargeant. Stop talking like that. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me. There was before you, during you, and I never want there to be an after you. I have never loved anyone more than I love you. My heart is so filled with happiness and you’re the reason. You’re the reason I’m still alive today, I have the best life right now and it’s because of you. So please don’t break my heart because you feel like I don’t deserve you, because I never want to live without you. So unless you’re unhappy in our relationship, we are not breaking up. Are you unhappy with us?” Tears were falling like waterfalls from both of our eyes.
“No, I love you too much. I just don’t want you to be with a loser like me” My hands shot up to his face and I made him look at me
“Stop it, I’m not leaving you. I’m staying with you whether you win 100 grand prixs, 1 or none. I’m here until the Lord takes me from this earth. I promise” I said as I placed a sweet and sincere kiss on his lips before we rested our foreheads together
“I’m here always and forever”
taglist
@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99
#logan sargeant hurt#logan sargent fluff#logan sargeant angst#logan sergeant imagines#logan sargent x reader#logan sargeant#charles leclerc#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 smut#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula one#lando norris#lewis hamilton
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always for you (my heart beats)
pairing: hong jisoo (joshua) x gender neutral reader
genre: fluff, comfort
word count: 875
warnings: some crying, passing mention of food near the end, reader not feeling well
author note: hi ! this is another repost, so if you’ve seen it, you probably have :D this is also very self indulgent but. i want a joshua :(
masterlist
it isn’t until you step into your shared apartment and slump down on the couch, tossing aside your things on the floor with a loud thud, that you feel the sheer exhaustion set into your bones.
you sigh, wiping your face with your hands before pushing the heels of your palms into your eyes.
today is not your day, to say the least. the drink you bought in the morning had found its way onto your clothes, and though you brushed it off with a weary smile when the barista apologized furiously, you’re just so tired. you don’t know why either, considering you got a decent amount of sleep last night.
lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice the sound of the key turning in the front door’s lock, and joshua making his way over to you.
“darling? are you alright?” he asks, squatting down and gently moving your hands away from your eyes, that are…tearing up? huh. when did the tears start rolling down your face?
“–y love. my love?” noticing that you aren’t paying attention to his words, joshua takes your face into his hands, slowly wiping your cheeks with his thumbs; the pads of his fingers are warm against your skin.
“darling, is anyone in there?” he says jokingly. you hum a reply, not having the energy to form words.
he frowns at your response (or lack thereof) before getting up to sit beside your defeated form. without saying anything, he takes your hands into his before squeezing gently, rubbing calming circles with his thumbs. his bangs fall into his eyes, and you notice how disheveled his appearance is. did he run here on his way home from work?
you aren’t unfamiliar with the sixth sense joshua seems to have when it comes to you feeling unwell. on days you feel off, he often grabs you a drink or small trinket from the shop close by on his way home, only saying that he felt as if you needed a pick-me-up, as if he just knows.
you don’t know how long you stare at that mote of dust in his left eyebrow before your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper. “i’m sorry.”
joshua immediately pulls you into himself, stroking the top of your head. “no, no, you don’t need to apologize to me ever, especially when you feel like this. no apologies in our relationship.”
his chest is warm against your head and you’re suddenly surrounded by his steady heartbeat, keeping him alive. you find yourself wondering if your heart beats as steady as his, even though you’re crumbling in his comforting arms. as his hands rub soothing shapes into your back, you focus on breathing, using the way joshua’s chest slowly rises and falls as an example.
after an eternity, or maybe just two minutes, joshua pushes you back slightly so that your back rests against the couch and he can see your face again.
“wanna talk about it?” he asks softly. you know joshua would never push you to talk if you didn’t want to but you feel like maybe it would help; you know he did it often when he was upset. if it worked for him, maybe it would for you too?
mustering up the energy to speak, you shake your head. “just had a bad day, shua. it just–it felt like nothing was going my way today.” you pause before your boyfriend nods for you to continue, softly grabbing your hands again. “this week has been so hectic, you know? for both of us.”
he smiles softly before bringing your hand up to his mouth, and places a small kiss on the side of it.
“yeah…you’re right. is there anything i can do for you today though?” he nudges your knee for an answer.
you speak hesitantly. “can you…let me listen to your heartbeat?” you see him raise an eyebrow and you rush to continue, face growing warm. “i—i was more calm when i heard it. it’s like, hearing your heartbeat grounds me because i know you’re alive, and i’m alive with you,” you finish, looking down at your intertwined hands.
you hear joshua let out a low breath and look up at his wide eyed expression as he kisses you on the cheek before moving back from your face slightly, your noses almost touching. his tone warm, he calls your name gently. “of course. you can always hear my heart beat, as it beats for you.”
you giggle a little at his slightly very corny line and at his goofy grin, knowing he’s just trying to cheer you up. you move towards joshua’s chest, his arms wrapping around you once more.
you close your eyes, savouring the warmth of being hugged by him, and listen to his heart beat, just for you.
soon enough, you fall asleep and joshua lifts you up slowly before moving you to your bed and wishing you sweet dreams with a peck on the forehead. when you wake up, he’ll make soup is what he plans in his head, as he moves to sit down on the couch.
a small smile creeps up on his face as he puts his hand to his heart. the one beats for you, always.
#dokries works#seventeen#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x reader#seventeen comfort#hong jisoo x reader#hong jisoo fluff#hong jisoo comfort#hong jisoo imagines#hong jisoo scenarios#hong joshua fluff#hong joshua comfort#hong joshua x reader#hong joshua scenarios#hong joshua imagines#joshua x reader#joshua comfort#joshua fluff#joshua scenarios#joshua imagines
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the other women.
word count: 886 (kinda short)
pairing: p.b. x reader
summary: After the live incident with Azzi y/n confronts paige.
pt: 2/3 (I think there will be 3 parts idk)
NOT PROOFREAD SO NTM.
i hope yall enjoy thiss. im gonna remake part 1 because it doesnt really fit with this part too well. i mean its good enough for yall to get the plot of the story but ykkk. SO SORRY FOR MAKING AZZI A BAD PERSON YALL ITS FOR THE PLOTTT🙏🙏 tried to do the lil picture thing evb be doing cs i thought it was cute how we feeling?..
-love gabby💋
3RD PERSON
Paige wakes up to an empty bed. She blinks rapidly trying to blink the sleepiness away. Wincing as she feels the hangover coming in. She notices the advil and glass of water on the bedside table you left for her. There was ice in the cup indicating the glass was filled not too long ago.
She doesn’t hesitate to pick up the glass and pills and takes them with one big gulp.
YOUR POV
Whenever you’re mind is too loud you usually vent to Paige and cry in her arms. You couldn’t do that this time so you went for a walk. You honestly had no clue where you were because you were so consumed in your thoughts you lost track of where you were walking.
Youre phone pinged snapping you out of your thoughts.
my fav blonde🖕🏻: Where are you?
You stared at the message not knowing if you should respond or not.
Just out for a walk.
You respond dryly trying to let her know you don’t want to speak to her. You hated confrontation so you didn’t know what you were going to do about the whole Azzi situation.
my fav blondie🖕🏻: Thanks for the advil and water, bug.
You stared at the phone not even realizing you were crying until you saw the tear droplet falling down your screen.
That damn nickname. She had given it to you as a joke when you first started dating and it’s stuck ever since. Whenever she called you it, a wave of comfort rushed through your body. Now it was just making you sad.
“You okay?” you hear a semi-familiar voice call out.
You look up quickly wiping your tears and see this girl from your psychology class. Her name was Addie or something like that.
“Yeah” you manage to croak out.
“You sure? Doesn’t really seem like it.” she says chuckling attempting to lighten the mood.
“Yeah. Thanks for asking.” You say smiling.
She smiles back. She was pretty, she had freckles and was brunette.
“Do you need a ride?” She offers still smiling.
“If its not too much of a bother.” You say embarrassed.
“Ofcourse! Hop in.”
PAIGES POV
Guilt is rushing through my body remembering the events from last night. It all happened so fast and it was a mistake.
my baby: omw home. 🤍 (hearted the msg)
my baby: got a ride from this girl
I smiled seeing her notification.
Theres even a video going around and im just praying y/n didnt see it. She could take it the wrong way. I would have to tell her eventually. She just cant find out through a video on social media.
FLASHBACK: AT THE BAR
STILL PAIGES POV
Azzi was being extra touchy tonight but I just assumed it was the alcohol. I mean she knows I have a girlfriend and she loves her.
“Paige, you look so good” Azzi slurs out running her hand down my chest.
I quickly move her hand off of me. “Thanks Azzi.” I say smiling. She puts her red solo cup up to her mouth “I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight” I say grabbing the drink from her.
“Nooooo” She whines. I just laugh at her drunk antics.
She grabs my face and gets really close. “Never noticed how pretty your eyes were.” She says staring at my eyes.
I just smile awkwardly trying to get out of her grasp. Before I knew it her lips were on mine. I gently push her off me. “Azzi.” I begin. “Paige you know you want me just as much as I want you.” She cuts me off.
“I have a girlfriend. And shes the only girl I want.” I say sharply.
“This is bullshit” She spits, pushing herself off of me.
PRESENT TIME
3RD PERSON
“Thanks for the ride.” Y/n says smiling at the brunette. Who smiles back “Anytime.”
—
Y/n is fumbling with her keys outside of the apartment door trying to find the right one. Once you find the key she puts it in the lock and unlocks the door.
Paige immediately shoots up of the couch and runs to her girlfriend. “Hi babyy.” she says smiling and giving you a hug. “missed you.” she says in your neck.
The feeling of Paige’s breathe on your neck made you shiver.
“Hey.” You couldn’t help but smile, missing Paiges warmth.
You let go of each other and you wander off into the kitchen while Paige goes back to her spot on the couch.
“Hey can we talk?” You manage to say. Paige looks up at you and hums in response already knowing what you’re going to say.
“What happened last night..” You pause and clear your throat “With Azzi?” You say trying to hold back your tears.
“Y/n I promise it wasn’t what it looked like.”
“Then what was it Paige.” You snap all your built up anger coming out. “Because it looked like the love of my life cheating on me with her BEST FRIEND.” You say emphasizing the last two words.
“Please let me explain baby.” Paige says, tears pricking her eyes.
“Don’t call me that.” You say coldly.
“You don’t need to explain anything I saw what I needed to see.” You say before Paige could open her mouth to speak.
You walk out of the door not wanting to make the situation worse.
—
thank you for reading mwahh!
#uconn wbb#wbb#paige bueckers#fanfic#uconn huskies#paige x azzi#azzi fudd#ncaa women’s basketball#paige bueckers fic#wlw
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Satoru Gojo x gn!reader
Spoilers for JJK260 plus some made up plot 😂
wc: 494
C: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, some graphic imagery
“Toru!”
Icy December air surrounds you, the warmth of the blankets dissipating as you sit sweating and panting in the black winter night. The hotel is unsettling, with unfamiliar walls on all sides, scratchy sheets, and quilts that are far too thin. All you can hear is your heart hammering in your ears as it matches the panicked thump in your chest, the echoes of the cries of your comrades resonating with each thud.
“Ssshhh.” That sound is soothing, but barely breaking through. “It’s okay. C’mon, you’re freezing.”
A rhythmic sound beats in tandem with your pulse, heat spreading from the solid body pulling you back into a cocoon of white robes and long, muscled arms. Your fingers find the long, puckered seam that just hours ago had been severed in two, tears pricking at your eyes as you recall the sight of a body in multiple pieces.
The man beneath you had been dead just mere hours ago.
“Toru…” you whimper, burying your face in his neck, breathing in his arid, sweet scent as if it would be the last time.
You’re holding him so tight it hurts your own joints, tendons pulled taut as you squeeze what had been all but lost to you when the sun hung high in the sky. You’d watched his upper half fall to a bloody heap, you can still feel the iron grips of the hands holding you back from sprinting to his side right on the battlefield, your only hope being to see the galaxies swirling in his eyes one last time before they were swallowed by darkness.
Satoru Gojo had died.
The very same Satoru Gojo who is currently running his fingers soothingly up and down your spine. The owner of the heart beating strong and steady against your ear. You’d traced the cold, lifeless features of his face, willed him—begged him—to come back as Shoko worked to the point of exhaustion while Utahime danced to an imaginary song. You’d been the first thing his reawakened eyes had seen, a small smile stretching onto his face as you collapsed down, finally letting the sobs you’d been holding in free.
Then you’d bid him goodbye once again as he went to face the same threat that had taken him from you once already.
“Please don’t leave,” you beg, lifting your head enough to find his lips, kissing him before he could respond.
“I promise,” he murmurs, his palm swallowing your jaw and cheek whole, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“That’s not funny!”
But he’s laughing, grinning against you as he pulls you in tighter. Your back hits the mattress the moment you release some of the tension you’re holding, arms chasing you in as he nuzzles his nose across your skin and into the dip behind your ear.
“I don’t know what you were so worried about,” he purrs, dragging his teeth across your pulse point, “I said this was forever, didn’t I?”
#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru drabble#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo fanfic#Jjk#jjk 260
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✮ 𝑺𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂 𝑻𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆
[ As SeongHwa gets done preforming Django, he gets a 20min break before the next preformance… and he uses it to fullfill his needs— using you, his Stage Director…]
⋆ ⚠️ Rough handeling, A bit of force ⚠️
୨୧・┈┈・✿・┈┈・୨୧
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⋆ Walking back stage, making sure everything was okay, I nodded my head towards the light director. He then put the light on the stage, making the members of Ateez glow. They were preforming Django, which made millions of fans go crazy. As I stopped and stood on the sidelines of the stage, I watched as the men were nailing their preformance. Following their dance moves a bit, I noticed Seonghwa sort of… kept eye balling me. I didn’t pay him any mind though, and just ignored it. I’m pretty sure it was just a preforming thing. It would be kind of hard not to cath glimpses of someone on the sideline.
After their preformance was done, the stage crew quickly started setting the next setting for the next song. I gave everyone a 20 minute break while the speaker was talking. Everyone dispersed, getting food, sitting down, etc. I brought everyone water, when I noticed someone was missing. Of course, It was Seonghwa. I got a bit worried, as he doesn’t usually disappear. “Hey Mingi, Have you seen Seonghwa?” I asked, giving a soft smile. “Oh yeah, He’s in his dressing room.” He replied, giving me a smile back. “Thank you bunches.” I bowed, heading for his dressing room.
Once I got to his door, I knocked softly. “Seongwha..? are you okay in here?” I asked. “No……” a muffled voice replied to me. I slowly opened the door, coming in and closing the door behind me. Once I turned around- I was suprised by Seonghwa quickly putting both of his hands on either side of me, making me jump from the suddenenss. “Director… I’ve been waiting for you…” He said, looking me in the eyes, His hair falling in front of his forhead, with a hunger in eyes I had never seen before. “What for…?” I slipped under his arms, walking backwards. He then turned around, walking towards me, a smirk growing on his face. “You your such a tease… you know? looking at me all preformance, then having the audacity to dance… wearing that…” He spoke lowly, letting his gaze run all over my body. I look down at my outfit, wondering what the hell he was talking about, because I literally had on a denim skirt with a crop top and a jean jacket along with tennis shoes. I looked at him, cinfused “I dont ge-” I tried to say, getting interupted by him shoving me on the love seat, starting to undo the rest of his corset. “We have 15 minutes left…all I need is 10…’’ He said, being focused, towering over me. I start to panic because I literally have a member of Ateez back here finna fuck me. Where did this suddent behavior come from??? “W-wait! SeongHwa- We can’t do such things he—” I squeak, being interupted once again by him wrapping his arms around my thighs, pulling me towards his pelvis. I became flustered so fast, I could feel my entire face and body getting hot…“You want to be a tease… I’m simply just giving you what you deserve..” He said with a irritable tone,unzipping his pants. “SeongHwa—” I put my hand on his chest, trying to get up. “We really can’t—” I say desperately. Sadly, it didn’t work in my favor. Leaving me in absolute shock, He snatches my hands back, pining them on either side of me, on the love seat with one of his hands. “You can’t run from me Director…” he says with lust in his voice. He then chuckles, looking down at my silk panties with a pink bow in the middle, that hid under my skirt. He then snatched them to the side, almost tearing them off. “Just hold still for me director…” He breathed slowly, pulling his large member out of his stretched dress pants. He then grabbed my thighs, each in one hand, and started sliding his member back and forth on my heat, making me shift from his touch. He then pushed his tip into my folds, grunting slighlty, making me jerk. “S-seonghwa-” I called out to him one last time, before his member slid into me, stretching me out. I gasped, feeling his member graze my walls, as his size was something I was not used to. I wrapped my arms around his neck for support, as there was nothing more to do than to accept my fate.
“Just relax… I got you.” He cooed in my ear, starting thrust inside and out of me with a steady pace. My moans grew as He reached deeper and deeper inside of me. After what seemed to be like forever, he flipped me over on my knees, thrusting back in to me, only this time, his strokes getting more aggressive. “Oh my god..~” I whimper, covering my mouth. All I could hear was the sound of him grunting, along with the sound of his skin slapping against mine. “Damn Director.. your so tight..” He smirked, licking his lips. I heard him, but my head was far past the clouds of pleasure to even comprehend. I held on to the love seat for my dear life, as he was reaching every spot he was supposed to. What’s was even worse was… I was enjoying it. As I closed my eyes, feeling myself drown in pleasure, I hear “Alright- 2 minutes everybody!”. My heart drops. “Seonghwa..!” I tried to say without screaming. He then covered my mouth, hovering over my back planting kisses and love bites on the back of my neck. “Fuck…Im so close..” He grunted in my ear. He picked my leg up, pushing himself deeper into my core, finding my G-spot. I started screaming, but then quickly covered my mouth, remembering where we were. I then felt the tingly sensation in my stomach, knowing my edge was nearing. “Im gonna cum…!” I moan loudly, gripping SeongHwa’s hand that was gripping my thigh so effortlessly. He then thrusted into me two more times, the last reaching my cervix before letting out a large grunt, filling me with his hot seed. He pulls his member out of me, plopping on the love seat next to me, flipping his hair to the side and out of my face. after spending a couple seconds of cathcing our breath, he turns to me, “Director…” he calls to me, as I try to get up, as my legs were still shaking.
“You should tease me more often…”
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#ateez fanfic#seonghwa#park seonghwa#atiny#ateez imagines#ateez x you#ateez smut#18+ content#ateez preferences#smut#kpop smut#kpop stan#kpop#kpop scenarios
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grim reaper!simon “ghost” riley x f!reader
He wasn’t quite sure why but he didn’t want to take your soul.
Fragile little thing, still clinging to life. Sickly. Withering. But you had a fire inside of you, he could feel it. Burning brightly enough that it might even char him.
He wondered the last time your bare feet had touched the grass. The last time you filled your lungs with summer air. The last time you left this tiny little prison keeping your mortal body alive with tubes and drains.
You smile at him. It sends a chill down his spine — something he hadn’t felt since the before. Before he was this. Before he was death. When he was still a man. He can barely remember his old name anymore. Why are you smiling at him?
“I’ve been expecting you.”
Your voice was a melody. Expecting him? You couldn’t be.
“Do I have a few minutes or is it time now?”
He’s taken thousands of souls. More than he can count. Ferried them to the afterlife. Nothing but a blip on his radar, long forgotten. The ones that were still conscious enough to see him begged to live. Begged to be spared. But never this. Never waiting for him.
“Would you like a few minutes?” The words coming out of his mouth surprise even him. He hasn’t heard the sound of his voice in a long while. Hasn’t had the need to speak. It startles even him — a distortion of his human voice.
“I would… I would like to say goodbye to my mom.” He wants to wipe away the tear trickling down your face. He wants to tell you it’s going to be okay.
He nods and hovers to the corner of the room. You don’t seem to mind that he’s waiting there while you call in your mother. She doesn't accept what you have to tell her. It’s not your time, how could it be? You’re young, you have so much life left to live. You’re going to live, she won’t hear anymore of it otherwise. You say okay, another tear falls. You ask her to go get you something to eat.
When she leaves, you look back over to him. A shaky breath releases from your chest. You quickly wipe the backs of your delicate fingertips on your waterline.
“I’m ready.”
But he’s not. Oh no. He’s not.
He doesn’t want to take your soul. Doesn’t want it to incinerate that last little piece of him that’s still human. The piece that wriggles its way up to the surface every so often. He knows if he helps your soul to the afterlife, he’ll never remember his name again. Never remember the touch of a woman’s skin, the feeling of a hot breath against him. Never feel the ache in his chest where his heart used to be. The phantom pain that reminds him who he was. Simon.
He’s at your bedside before you can even blink. You’re not phased, not one bit. He sits, and reaches to take your tiny hand in his. You furrow your brow gently but give it to him.
He sees a flash of the man he was again. The black robe slips down his arm. A sliver of skin reveals his tattoos back at him, tattoos he hasn’t thought about in decades. You study him in silence while he does the same.
Why does your soul sing to him? Why does it remind him of the things he’s forgotten? Why you? Why not the other thousands upon thousands of souls?
“Will it hurt?” your tiny voice squeaks out.
They don’t deserve you — the gods that rule the afterlife. They’ll waste you, they won’t cherish you like he would. Like he could. You deserve so much more, delicate flower that you are.
“No, darling girl, it is as easy as dreaming.”
They have millions of souls. Billions. Surely they won’t miss yours. He can steal one soul for his own. It’s just one. One soul. The most precious soul he’s come across.
You close your eyes and let out a slow breath, waiting for the end to reach you. Death’s sure kiss.
He leans in slow, like he’s approaching a scared animal. Your eyes don't open. No — you trust him.
His lips meet your pillowy soft ones. He almost forgets how to do it, but your lips remind him. They help him. You kiss him.
He feels your soul like a lump in his throat. His large hand — the one not holding your wrist — wraps around your neck. It burns him, this kiss. He knew it would. Sizzles the very bones in his body.
An electrifying feeling takes hold of the both of you. Your skin is covered in goose flesh (his would be too, if it still could be). Your nipples harden, a wetness trails down your panties. You don’t break from him or his kiss. He wonders if it burns you a little too.
When the lump in his throat settles he finally feels it. He’s whole. For the first time in… maybe ever. He’s done it. He’s really done it. He breaks away from you.
Color has returned to your cheeks, the blood rushing beneath your skin. Already you look better than you did before he entered the room.
You don't understand it, he knows you don’t. Someday he’ll explain. Someday. But not yet.
The gods of the afterlife will never find you, and if they do, they’ll never have you. You’re his now. He’s done it.
He’s melded your souls together.
#call of duty#cod x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost x you#ghost cod#ghost x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x reader
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evergreen — part five
Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Cabin Fever Masterlist | Join my taglist here!
Series Summary: Jake takes you on your first vacation to the cabin the gang stays at every year. When memories of past relationships loom heavy, will this vacation send cracks through the foundation of safety and trust you have in each other?
Chapter Summary: In your love nest, you and Jake heal every hurt.
Pairings: Jake x Reader, Josh x Baby, Sam x Danny | Genre: fluff, emotional h/c | Word Count: 2.5k | Warnings: sexual innuendo, smoking
A/N: The last chapter of this little fic! I'm so thankful for all the love you've showered on Jake and Sparrow, despite how silly they've been. I hope this chapter is everything you're hoping for! ♡
Coming into the tent was a tangle of something shy and gentle and cautious, wet hair plastered to your faces and shared looks of love and longing and apology as you tried to figure out what to say to each other. You both knew you needed to talk, but for a while, there was nothing but the sound of the rain; he helped you out of your boots and jacket, setting them neatly in the corner of the tent. You sat together in the doorway, watching the rain, smoking a few cigarettes from the crumpled pack from his jacket pocket.
“Thank you for my love nest,” you said. You brushed his wet, curly hair back from his face. “You didn't have to do all this, Jake. And in the middle of the night and in the rain, too.”
“I wanted to,” he said. “I wanted you to have a place that was just for you. You’re everything to me, and you deserve something from me that I haven't shared with anyone else.”
You knew you already had something from him that belonged to the two of you alone, and it wasn't your love nest, as wonderful as it was. You knew you had him, had his heart in a way that no one else ever had, just like he had yours.
A bruise showed on his neck, and you reached a cautious hand out to brush your fingers over it.
“I’m sorry, Jake,” you said softly. “All that — it was stupid. And it was my fault.”
He gave a rueful smile. “Takes two to tango, sparrow.”
You let your hand fall to your lap. “Yeah.”
He glanced over at you after a moment. “Besides, you were the one who said you didn't want to fight.”
“Much good it did me,” you said quietly. Though there was an understanding between you now, you still didn't know what to say, how to tell him things you could hardly sort out yourself. “I didn’t want to fight. Or maybe I did. I don't know.”
You put your cigarette out and looked for a place to put it; he held his hand out and put it in the pocket of his jacket.
“I don't know why I always do this,” you said softly. “I don't know why I keep everything bottled up until it turns into a huge catastrophe.” You felt the sting of tears, remembering how you'd hurt him, how poorly you'd treated the one you loved more than anything, feeling guilty for your inability to give him the apology he deserved.
“And then I do this,” you said, “and make it a pity party for how stupid I am.”
He ran a soothing hand over your back. “Yeah. You do.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Too bad I love you, sparrow.”
“Oh, you're joking, but it’s true,” you said miserably. “I was awful to you. I don't know how you put up with it.”
“I just told you why,” he said gently. He brushed his hands through your hair. “I love you, sparrow. Pity parties and all.”
You turned your tear-streaked face to him and met his eyes, sucking in a choppy breath. “Even like this?”
“Yes, sparrow. Even like this.” He brushed your tears away with a gentle touch. “I thought I told you not to cry, silly girl. You never listen to me.”
You couldn't help a watery laugh, and he gave you a tender smile.
“I'm sorry I hurt you,” he said. “I didn't mean to, but I understand how that doesn't make it any easier. I'd be doing the same thing as you if it was the other way around.”
You shook your head. “You wish you could cry as much as I do, Kiszka. You don't ever cry.”
“That’s not true.” He tucked your hair behind your ear. “I cried when I left.” His smile was wry and rueful. “That's why I left, partly, to be all stoic and manly while I cried like a baby.”
Your heart twisted. “Jake. You could have woken me up.”
“Yeah, I know.” He grazed his knuckles over your cheek. “But you needed to sleep, and I couldn't figure out what to say to you anyway. The way I treated you... that was a mistake, sparrow, and I regret it. All of it — the fighting, the sex, not seeing you as you are, not giving you what you needed. I'm sorry.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, but your tears were starting in earnest again. “Me too, Jake. I’m sorry for all of it too.”
“My girl,” he said softly, a gentle, teasing smile on his face. “There you go again, looking at me with your heart in your eyes, everything spilling over.”
He pulled you close; you leaned into his chest, your head thumping pitifully against his collarbone. He gave you a tight, comforting squeeze, rocking you gently.
“We’re a mess, aren’t we?” he asked.
You breathed a laugh. “I’d rather be a mess with you than do anything else.”
“Me too.”
“I love you, Jake.”
He kissed your forehead. “I love you too, sparrow. Come lay with me and let me show you how much.”
With soft, healing laughter, you helped each other out of your damp clothes and lay in the nest of pillows and blankets together. You pulled him close and combed your fingers through his hair.
“You’re beautiful,” you said softly. He was, all warm and soft under the golden fairy lights, and the peace that filled his expression now was more lovely to you than anything you'd ever seen.
A sweet blush pinked his cheeks. “Thank you, sparrow. You're beautiful too.”
He cradled your face in his palm and traced the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “I didn’t bring you here to sleep with you. We can if you want, but I understand if you don't. We can do whatever you want.”
You hummed. “How about mad libs?”
He chuckled. “If you want. It's your love nest, sparrow. You pick.”
You drew him close and kissed him, slow and sweet and deep. “I want to be with you, Jake.”
“I want to be with you too, sparrow.”
You spent long minutes relearning each other, his mouth gentle against yours, remembering how to love each other with patience and tender touches. He pulled you snug against him with a hand splayed over your back; you melted into him, safe and loved and mended. He kissed the places he’d left marks before, healing with every touch, until everything was right in the world.
He brushed his fingers over your cheek. “Let me make love to you, sparrow. Let me do it right this time.”
“Okay,” you said softly.
He stayed with you, close and warm and generous with his kisses, and you gave a contented sigh when you were joined. He was slow, gentle, patient; you blossomed under him like a flower opening to the sun, drinking in all of him, surrounded by him and the love he gave you so easily and willingly.
“With me, sparrow,” he said, holding you close. “Please, love. With me.”
Pleasure, joy, something nameless and old and perfect; you felt them all when he moved inside you, when you heard his sigh and the words of love he spoke to you, when you felt the way he loved you and held you after.
“Sparrow, sparrow,” he said, gentle, breathless. “I love you. You're my heart. You know that, don't you?”
“Yes, Jake,” you said softly. You kissed him. “You’re my heart too.”
—
The rain kept up a steady beat on the roof of your tent, comforting now instead of lonely, and in the afterglow, Jake was full of laughter and bright with smiles you couldn't help but return. You talked about everything and nothing, listening to each other’s voices, coming together in pleasant interludes of hands on skin and tenderness in every place you needed it.
“Let's never fight again,” you said.
He gave a gentle laugh, drawing your intertwined hands up to study them in the soft light. “Okay. It's not very realistic, honey, but we can try.”
“I mean... not like that again,” you said. His hand was the perfect fit for yours, callused and gentle and strong; the macrame bracelet you'd made for him years ago rested at his wrist. “You’re better at it than I am.”
He didn’t deny it; he couldn't, not when he was so good at it, at knowing when to step back and take a minute and when to talk again when you were both calmer. You relied on him in that, and it wasn't until now that you realized just how heavily you depended on his good judgement and diligence in it.
It also made you realize just how angry you must have made him earlier to push him over the edge of that judgement. It was that thought that kept you from feeling completely content, and you felt you could apologize to him over and over and never do it enough.
“Jake,” you said softly. You tucked your hands between you. “Can you forgive me?”
He kissed your collarbone. “I already have, sparrow.”
Your throat felt tight. “How?”
“You know how,” he said gently. “Tell me.”
You drew him up to kiss you again. “Because you love me.”
“That’s right. Because I love you.”
“I love you too,” you said, meaning it more than anything you'd ever said in your life. “Teach me how to be better to you.”
“I like you the way you are, sparrow.”
You smiled. “I know that too. But you’d like me more if I knew how to tell you what I was feeling.”
He shrugged. “I’ll get better at reading you,” he said. “Teach me how to do that, and I’ll teach you to be a lover, not a fighter.”
You giggled as he kissed your neck. “Can we start right now?”
“Sure. Tell me how you're feeling. But first...” He gently stretched you out beneath him. “I think you're feeling safe, and happy, and.... hm. Maybe excited. A little.”
You laughed. “Correct. See, I told you — you’re better at it than I am.”
He hummed. “Anything else? Maybe I missed something.”
“Well...” You were a little bashful. “Maybe I feel kind of hungry.”
He gave a dramatic groan. “Oh, I knew I missed something.” He smiled and kissed you. “Let’s get you something to eat, then.”
You dressed again and found it was a short walk back to the cabin. In the bathroom mirror, you saw a bright, lovely color in your face and much preferred it to the sickly look you’d had before. You changed into clothes that weren't soaked with rain and ventured back out to the living room; Sam and Danny had gone to bed, but Josh and Baby were asleep on the couch, his head in her lap, her hands lightly tangled in his curls. She woke when you came in, looking up at you with a sleepy smile.
“All better?” she whispered.
You couldn't help a beaming smile. “Yeah. All better.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” she sighed. “I thought I was going to have to take you both by the ear and make you fix things.”
You gave a soft laugh. “No need. We’ve decided we’re never fighting again.”
Her smile turned to more of a smirk. “Well, good sex will do that. Let me know if you crack the code, and I’ll try it with this one.”
She gently roused her boyfriend and rewarded him with a kiss. “Bed, Joshy.”
He nodded, half-asleep. “Okay, baby.”
She gave your hand a gentle squeeze as she led him to bed, and you were so glad that everything was right in your family, that you were all happy and had the rest of your vacation to enjoy each other.
“Sparrow, my dearest.”
You turned towards the kitchen to see Jake with a hodgepodge of midnight snacks.
“Chef Kiszka strikes again,” you teased.
He grinned. “Well, I figured you didn't want to wait for a full-blown Julia Child recipe, but I’ll make something fancier if you want.”
“No, this is perfect.” You stole a pretzel and popped it in your mouth. “Delicious. Better than anything Julia Child could make.”
He chuckled. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Can we take it back out to our love nest?”
“Uh... yes,” he said, looking around the kitchen. “I might have to throw it all in a Ziploc bag, though, to save it getting rained on.”
You hummed in agreement. “Like a weird trail mix.”
He smiled. “Something like that.”
Weird trail mix in hand, you went back out to your tent and got cosy again. He peeled a tangerine for you, handing you pieces of it and stealing a few for himself, and you found that he’d brought the copy of Rilke’s poems you’d gotten him last Christmas.
“I didn't know you actually liked this,” you said, thumbing through the dog-eared pages, seeing the notes he'd made in the margins.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “Of course I liked it. I read it all the time. He’s your favorite.”
Your heart tilted. “He is my favorite.” You handed the book to him. “Will you read me our poem?”
He smiled. “As if you don't have it memorized,” he teased gently.
You shrugged. “It’s not the same as hearing you read it. I love to listen to your voice.”
He looked pleased and a little bashful, taking the book and opening it to the poem he’d used as words of love before you even knew he loved you. His voice was soft and warm as he read, giving every word its meaning as a little piece in a tapestry of affection and beauty.
“Show me the miracle of your hair unbound,” he read. “I want to surround you with your secret self... I want to close every place you've ever been with a kiss, leaving nothing but inner skies.”
You leaned close and let him kiss you and leave you with nothing but inner skies, deep, boundless, full of meaning and wonder. You lay together again, tucked close to each other, and he read to you from your favorite poet.
“How we waste our hours of pain,” he read, his voice rumbling comfortingly in his chest. “How we gaze beyond them into the bitter duration to see if they have an end. Though they are really our winter-enduring foliage, our dark evergreen, one season in our inner year — not only a season in time, but a place and settlement, foundation and soil and home.”
You touched his cheek, feeling the words of the poem ring true for the two of you — in the safety of the love you shared, your hours of pain were something more, something evergreen, a foundation on which you built a stronger love to make a home in together.
“I love you, Jake,” you said, very softly.
He kissed you and held you close. “My sweet sparrow. I love you too.”
taglist: @viagvf @allieisacrybaby @itsafullmoon @spark-my-nature @anthemheatwave @xserenax-13 @musicspeaks @mountain-in-springtime @stardustsecret @alwaysonthemend @madneedshelp @josh-iamyour-mama @dannythedog @thecoldwind @woyayaofdreams @joshkiszkapunchmeintheface @lostoverseer
and some cabin fever besties who were excited for this one :) @shutupdevvie @gold-mines-melting @earthlysorrows @brooke-gvf
join my taglist here!
#i hope you love it!!!#jake kiszka fanfiction#jake kiszka fluff#greta van fleet fanfiction#gvf fanfiction#evergreen fic#cabin fever fics#maddie writes stuff!
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