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egcdeath · 4 months

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how the cookie crumbles

summary: when you come back home to austin to help your sister with her bakery, you end up in an arrangement with your high school crush that ends up being far more than you bargained for.

word count: 11.5k

warnings: FAKE DATING, au: no outbreak, pining. so much pining and a touch of yearning, idiots to lovers, high school crushes to lovers, very hallmark-romcom esque, fluff, a touch of angst, more fluff, the reader has a sister but the sister doesn’t have a name, joel’s ex is kinda rude, alcohol consumption, cuddling, miscommunication kinda, unrequited love that’s actually requited love, no use of y/n, not beta read.

author’s note: this is my first fic back after taking my several month long break!! i want to give a big shoutout to my texas consultant and biggest cheerleader @cowgurrrl, who encouraged me to write, gave me helpful ideas, and let me dump my brain and my silly little ideas on her whenever <3

For as long as you could remember, you and your sister had been total opposites. As girls, your sister spent her time playing with dolls, experimenting with whatever new hairstyle on your scalp, and eagerly shadowing your mother in the kitchen, while you preferred to spend your time exploring the city on your bike, reading books in your hammock, and doodling whatever had caught your interest in your hourly. As you entered young adulthood, you were unsurprised as your sister married her high school sweetheart just months after graduating college before setting off to start her own business in Austin, while you moved as far as you could out of Texas and began a prosperous career in New York City.

Regardless of the different paths your lives had taken, the minute your sister had even suggested that she might’ve needed help at her bakery, you were booking a flight back home. The holidays were a notoriously busy time for her business, with people wanting cakes and pies to display as their own labors of love at their family gatherings, or to have their children wake up to a dozen expertly decorated cookies under the guise that that was what their Elf on the Shelf had been up to that night.

Given that you had no holiday plans other than drinking Bailey’s-spiked hot chocolate and watching reruns of your favorite season of The Bachelor, it seemed like a no-brainer to come back to Austin. Part of you was excited for your homecoming, to return to the vibrant personality of the city that was a far cry from the east coast city you’d grown to know and love over the years. The other part of you dreaded your return, not feeling particularly excited to have to run into peers from your adolescence while you were trying to peruse the shelves of your local Costco.

You were welcomed with warm arms the moment that you walked through the door of your sister’s home—metaphorically and literally. She practically hugged you the entire way as you dropped your items off in her guest bedroom, then even more so as she directed you to her car, giving you all sorts of updates about your parents and her husband, but not allowing you to forget the whole reason that you’d come home in the first place.

“You’re not hungry or anything, right?” she asked as she hopped into the driver's seat next to you.

“I think I’m good. I ate at the airport,” you replied, slightly amused by your sister’s eagerness to get you to work immediately. Then again, you couldn’t exactly blame her when you thought about how busy she must’ve been.

“Good! I’m gonna put you right to work then. How does frosting cupcakes sound?”

It sounded fine, and it was fine for the first few hours, until the angle of the piping bag started to make the newfound cramping in your hands unbearable, and your sister had to give you an impromptu tutorial on how not to make your rosettes look so… depressing.

“Look, the Girl Scouts need this order in like, an hour, and my cashier is going home in a bit. Give yourself a little break to shake your hand out, or pee, or do whatever it is you have to do, then you can ring customers up. How does that sound?” she finally huffed, clearly just as frustrated with you for your inability to do a task that was practically second nature to her.

“Anything’s better than frosting these damn cupcakes,” you commented as you tossed your gloves into the trash. “If I never have to frost a cupcake again, it’ll be too soon.”

“I love you, which is why I have to tell you that you will be frosting so many more cupcakes in the next few days,” she laughed aloud, looking down at the army of baked goods in front of her that she was still working on meticulously frosting. “But you’ll get used to it. I’ll have Ben give you better instructions. He’s really good at this, for some reason. I’m convinced it’s because he went to art school.”

You groaned dramatically as you exited the kitchen, only to bother your sister if nothing else. After all, wasn’t it your job as a younger sibling to annoy your older sibling?

As much as you enjoyed doing random tasks that your sister needed done in the back, working in the front was definitely one of the better aspects of working at the bakery. There was far less technique involved in doing anything, and when there was downtime in the storefront, you got to passively scroll on social media, turning your brightness down so you could secretly cyberstalk people from your high school in peace.

Being that you were distracted by the phone in your hand, you paid no mind to the shrill sound of the door’s bell as it opened. As you finished up looking at someone’s engagement pictures, you glanced up once before doing a complete double take.

“Hey, I’m just here to pick up the Girl Scout order-”

There was no way.

You hadn’t seen that face in years. Hell, you hadn’t thought about that face in years, despite your mild obsession with him as a teenager.

Joel had been the definition of so close, yet so far. You seemed to always be in his orbit, butterflies in your stomach every time he leaned over his desk to ask you a question about the material or to poke fun at one of the weirder quirks your teacher had. Yet, just as you’d finally worked up the nerve to confess your feelings to him, word got around the school that he was becoming a father. After many pints of ice cream and late nights of your older sister comforting an inconsolable teenage you, you’d finally gotten over the man, letting his memory become a funny anecdote you shared to friends to display your terrible luck in love.

As much as you hated to admit it, he looked good. Obviously, he was much older now, but much to your dismay, he’d aged more like wine than like milk. Donning a new beard that somehow managed to make him even more handsome and biceps that strained against the sleeves of his shirt, he looked far more attractive than you could ever even remember him, his mature look a good one. You were sure his wife loved looking at that striking face in the morning, before she set off to take care of their adorable young daughter. Their perfect little family, still holding up despite the test of time.

You had gotten so caught up in your thoughts, you’d barely registered the fact that Joel had said your name in a tone that held a mixture of excitement and disbelief.

“I haven’t seen you in years! Since high school?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer. The surprise of seeing him, let alone seeing him looking so good led you to smile dumbly and shrug. “Wow!” he remarked.

“It has been a really long time,” you grinned involuntarily, practically feeling yourself revert back to your younger, immature self simply at the sight of the man standing across from you. “How are you? How’s the family?”

“We’re good. Sarah’s turning 13 soon, which is really exciting,” Joel explained, setting a hand on his hip as he did so. You swore you could see the fondness for his daughter as he spoke. “It feels like just yesterday I was feeding her bottles and carrying her around in a sling.”

“I know, they just grow up so fast,” you agreed, as if you’d had any sort of experience in the field. The fact that Joel still had this effect on you, one that made you want to follow him around like a lost puppy and agree with every word that came out of his mouth was mildly concerning to you—particularly because he clearly had a wife and a child.

“They really do. You have any of your own?” Joel asked, looking deep into your eyes and making you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Me? No,” you dismissed before following it up with,. “I’ve been pretty focused on my career, so it’s not exactly the best time for a family. To be quite honest, I think my cats do the trick plenty well.”

“You’re still so responsible,” Joel complimented, stirring something up deep inside of you that you promptly wanted to push right back down. “Clearly, I didn’t do any family planning. I’d say it worked out pretty well, if you don’t count having to get divorced just a few years after getting married.”

This piqued your interest. You could almost feel the teenage version of yourself cheering internally at the news that Joel and the mother of his child had split. She’d always been a bit of a bitch to you, so to hear that the two of them had split had sounded like music to your ears.

“Man, that’s too bad. I always thought you two would be the one couple from our school to make it,” you lied through your teeth, hoping that your entertainment wasn’t too obvious.

Joel chuckled and shook his head, smile lines appearing seemingly out of thin air, and unfortunately making you melt on the inside, just the slightest bit.

“That’s really too bad. I mean, what happened with you guys? If you don’t mind me asking,” you were definitely taking a risk with this question, but you were hoping that the reward of the answer would be worth every bit of boldness you put together to ask.

“We just had… different ideas for our futures,” Joel explained what you could only assume was a very condensed version of what had actually occurred. “You know, she’s actually in town right now.”

“I hadn’t realized she’d left town. Should we keep our voices down then?” you asked jokingly, although it would be quite awkward if his ex wife walked in while the two of you were talking about her.

“No, we’re good,” Joel chuckled. “Sarah really wanted to see her for the holidays, and it wasn’t like I could say no to that request. Although, getting Naomi to actually come was a bit like pulling teeth. I’m sorry, this is way too much information. What about you? Any special people in your life?”

“No, Joel, you’re all good. You know how much of a gossip I was,” you offered him a genuine smile. “Unfortunately, no. Funnily enough, the thing I was dreading most about coming home is having my mom constantly on my ass about bringing home a good man.”

“I get it. It’s exhausting seeing all the PDA whenever Naomi and Henry come back. It’s like they’re rubbing in that we’re so happy together and you’re still all alone.”

“Assholes,” you remarked, rolling your eyes to show Joel just how on his side you were. “I’m sure you’ll find someone someday. I mean, both of us will. Then maybe my mom will stop bothering me and your ex will finally stop acting all high and mighty for being in a relationship.”

“I can only hope,” Joel sighed. “Well, I apologize for dumping all of my holiday woes on you when I really should just be picking up some cupcakes.”

“Oh no, I apologize for holding you up. I’ll go grab that order for you,” you said before walking off to the back, where your sister had just finished putting the final touches on the order.

“Perfect timing,” she remarked, stepping back and running her arm against her slightly damp forehead. “Who were you talking to back there?”

“Oh, no one,” you dismissed, not ready to hear her reaction. “Just giving good customer service.”

The look she gave you told you loud and clear that she didn’t believe you, but it would be a conversation for another time. Since she didn’t seem interested in pressing, you took it as your opportunity to grab the large, pink box, and bring it out to Joel.

“Here’s that order for you,” you said politely. “It was good seeing you today.”

“Yeah, you too,” he said, happily taking the slightly heavy box when you offered it to him. “How long will you be in town?”

“Into the New Year, I think? Maybe earlier, maybe later,” you shrugged.

“We should get together sometime. Maybe get a coffee or something and properly catch up? I would love for you to meet Sarah, too.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you grinned, begging yourself not to revert back to your younger, naive self, but not exactly being able to fight it at the same time. “Well, if you ever need me, I’ll probably be here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as he headed to the door. “See ya!”

As soon as the door jingled, announcing Joel’s departure, you let out a deep breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding.

Fuck. You could not be feeling this way about a man you had a crush on in high school.

Your sister always seemed to have a sixth sense for when you were getting antsy, so one evening as the two of you worked on closing the storefront, she pulled you from the monotony of sweeping the floors while listening to the sound of her new favorite pop artist to send you to the grocery store and retrieve a few items that she needed more of.

With her company card safely secured in your wallet, a short list scribbled out on a pink post-it note, and your hands closely grasping the handlebars of the cart, you amaturely navigated the grocery store, unfamiliar with the locations of the items that lined the shelves after years of not visiting Austin.

The evening in the grocery store brought you a sense of serenity, with the rush of urgent people looking to pick up the one ingredient they forgot for dinner mostly gone. After packing your cart full of sticks of butter and bags of sugar, you headed off to the get your final item, relieved to have had a mostly successful trip without running into anyone you knew in your youth.

But just as you had this thought, you caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of your eye. Dark hair and beard imprinted in your mind after your brief interaction with him just one day ago. You did your absolute best to pretend you didn’t see him as you inspected a bag of flour, keeping your head lowered, and gaze averted. Yet, your efforts were futile, as just moments later, you heard your name called aloud as the man approached you.

“Hey!” he said cheerily, blissfully unaware that you were attempting to use the ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’ method on him just moments ago. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, it’s been like forever,” you added on, looking into his eyes and almost immediately regretting your decision as your gut was immediately consumed with a swarm of rabid butterflies. “What’re you doing here?”

“Grabbing some groceries,” he answered sweetly, despite that being the obvious answer to your not-so-great question.

Duh. What else did people come to the grocery store for? What a stupid question. See? Joel just made you so… stupid! Even after all of the years you’d spent apart.

“Sarah wanted to try making some Christmas cookies to bring to her mom, so…” he trailed off, gesturing down at the flour that was now in his hand. “Got any tips on the best flour to get?”

“That’s definitely more of my sister’s wheelhouse. I just do whatever she needs me to do, like go and get,” you glanced down at your list before continuing for comedic effect, “White miso paste.”

Joel smiled fondly at your joke, only making your insides melt further.

“Remind me to stop by and try whatever has that white miso paste in it. Sounds interesting,” Joel grabbed a package of all-purpose flour and tossed it into his cart, before leaning on his cart.

Fuck. Why did he have to be so endearing, with his smile lines and his kind eyes, and his insistence on treating you like you were the only other woman in the world, despite the other woman customer just standing feet away from you two.

“I definitely will. Has your number changed in the past thirteen years?” you asked, not sure what had gotten into you with the slightly flirty move.

He shook his head, his eye briefly catching on something and causing him to pause in his movements before he returned to the conversation, now looking slightly off in a way that he hadn’t looked just a moment ago. You were so stupid. Of course you trying to flirt back would’ve backfired. You needed to excuse yourself before you managed to embarrass yourself any more than you already had.

“It has not,” he confirmed, smiling at you once more, but not looking like his heart was completely into it. “Any chance you’re checking out?”

“I am!” you said a little too enthusiastically, which Joel responded to by somewhat urgently beginning to walk to the check-out lane. Given that he hadn’t told you goodbye, you followed him like the lost puppy that you were around him.

Just as the two of you stopped in line and had mostly finished checking out, Joel finally seemed to unclench from whatever he’d seen (or whatever you’d said) that had bothered him before. Yet, as soon as it was over, you noticed that same tension washed over him once more.

“Oh, Naomi. Henry,” Joel said, his tone taking a complete 180 from what he had just had with you moments ago, and his change in demeanor suddenly made sense to you. “Didn’t realize you two were in town yet.”

You glanced over to the woman who had seemingly appeared out of thin air to ruin your moment with Joel, just like she had done in high school a million times over. Who you hadn’t recognized was the man next to her, looking a little too put together for someone who had likely just gotten off a flight and was headed to the grocery store.

“Joel,” she said artificially sweetly, the one singular word drenched in annoyance. “We just got in. We’re grabbing groceries for the hotel.”

“I didn’t realize chocolate chips were groceries,” Joel muttered to himself as he evaluated their basket. You were slightly surprised by the sass he had seemed to equip out of nowhere, a far cry from the southern charm he had displayed with you in your past interactions. You desperately wanted to leave the situation, which was clearly none of your business.

“Surely, you remember your ex-wife having a sweet tooth,” the man on her side replied defensively, wrapping an arm around her protectively.

“Something like that,” he replied, glancing over at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite read.

With tensions boiling over with just a few words stated, you finally decided to step in, impulse and instinct guiding you.

“Hey honey, I think we need to get going,” you said, internally cringing as the words left your mouth. Joel’s now wide eyes made contact with your unsure ones and your furrowed brows as you attempted to tell him to just go with it without a single word.

The good thing for you was that Joel was a quick learner, and his hand quickly found the small of your back. Something in Naomi’s expression changed, just for a moment, before she went back to her stone cold facade. You hoped that Joel caught it, the same way that you did.

“Yeah, we don’t want to keep you too long, since we’ll be seeing you plenty this holiday season,” Naomi replied, flashing you a fake smile. “I didn’t realize you two were together. I’ve never heard Joel say anything about you.”

You were sure the sentiment was supposed to hurt your feelings, but you were more unsurprised by the sentiment than anything else.

“Some of us like to leave our personal lives personal,” he shot back, glancing at you before bringing his glare back to his ex-wife.

“Well, that’s cute. I remember, you had the biggest crush on Joel back in the day. Glad you two ended up together,” she laughed and your stomach dropped. Were you that obvious in the past? “Anyway, we’re gonna go to a less busy lane. See you at dinner, Joel. And maybe you, too?” She looked you up and down, and for a second you felt like you were in the hallways of your high school once again, trying your best to avoid the passive aggression of a particularly mean girl.

“Right. Bye,” he said simply, watching the pair walk away as if he were scared that they would turn back around at some point and bother Joel some more.

“Fuck,” he muttered aloud as soon as they were out of earshot, his hand falling away from your back and back to his side.

You immediately launched yourself into a rambling apology, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep or anything, they just looked like they wanted to eat you alive and-“

“No, no, don’t apologize. I appreciate what you did back here. I mean, you saw the look on her face when she thought we were together?”

“Oh yeah,” you laughed out, which also acted as a cover for the deep sigh of relief you needed to let out. “Is she always so shocked when she thinks you’re dating someone new?”

“Well, I haven’t dated much since the divorce,” he explained as the two of you began exiting the building. “So I guess I didn’t really know what to expect. But it totally delivered.”

You couldn’t help but smile as the two of you walked out to your cars together and Joel confessed that not only was he single, but that he hadn’t really seen anyone. Not that it really mattered to you, considering that the two of you had absolutely no shot together.

You weren’t exactly sure where Joel had parked, but he’d offered to help unload your groceries into your car, and you weren’t exactly going to decline that offer.

“Thank you, again for helping me out tonight,” Joel said as he helped place bags in the trunk of the car. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“Actually, there is one thing.”

—

Every year, you absolutely dreaded your family’s holiday celebrations. Specifically, the celebrations where you showed up without a date, and had to spend the night downing eggnog to drown out the sound of your family asking you when you were going to settle down and bring a grandchild, or niece, or nephew into the family.

But this year, you didn’t have to worry about that issue. After running into Joel at the grocery store and briefly pretending to be his partner, he’d agreed to do the same for you at a family holiday party, and to be completely honest, you couldn’t be more excited.

“Again, thank you,” you said to Joel as he opened the passenger door to his truck for you, politely standing at the side of it as you got in.

“It was really the least I could do after you saved my ass back there in the store,” he dismissed, closing the door behind you before getting back into the car.

“I mean, I couldn’t just stand there and let you suffer,” you explained, glancing over at the man as he settled into the seat and started the car. He’d certainly dressed up more than usual for the event, a nice red sweater nicely complimenting your green sweater, and his hair styled nicely. For a second, you thought about your younger self, and how she probably would’ve given anything for a night like this—to just play pretend with Joel just for a moment, since he clearly didn’t see you the way you saw him.

“Well, I appreciate it,” he dismissed, sending you a quick, charming smile before beginning to pull out of the driveway. “Anything I need to know about your family?”

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “Where do I start?”

You more or less talked Joel’s ear off on the drive over, filling him in on family members to avoid; overbearing aunts who would attempt to examine him like a lab specimen, uncles who would try to quiz him on his knowledge of local sports teams, and the occasional family friend, who seemed to be just as crazy as your actual kin. Joel listened politely, taking in all of the information, and throwing in some commentary every now and then, but surely making mental notes on who to try to avoid.

Once you finally arrived at the car-lined street, Joel once again opened the door for you like the gentleman he was, before allowing you to lead the way to the christmas-light adorned house that was clearly bustling on the inside. As the two of you walked up to the porch, Joel looked at you rather earnestly.

“Did I scare you in the car? I promise they’re not all that bad,” you began to attempt to explain, nerves bubbling in your stomach as you thought about how Joel surely wanted to go home.

“No, no, you didn’t scare me,” he assured you, reaching over to brush a stray hair out of your face. “I just… I never got the chance to tell you how good you look. I wanted to say something when you first got in my car, but I guess I got scared. You always look good, but you kinda took my breath away.”

Fuck, you internally groaned. Why did he have to tell you that? Was he just trying to get into character or something? You couldn’t even gather the words for how it made you feel before the front door was swinging open with one of your favorite aunts at the door greeting you.

“Hello, my love!” she practically squealed as she pulled you into a hug. “And who is this?”

“This is my boyfriend, Joel,” you introduced, only slightly alarmed at how easily the word rolled off your tongue.

“Hello, ma’am,” Joel said warmly, setting out a hand for her to shake, which was rejected in favor of a hug. He was clearly a bit caught off guard by it, but also clearly a little into it.

“Sorry,” you whispered to him once she let go and the two of you were ushered inside. “We’re a hug family. I probably should’ve warned you about that on the ride over.”

“I don’t mind, I promise,” he assured you, gently grabbing your hand and looking to you for some sort of assurance. You smiled at him then subtly nodded, lacing your fingers in between his in an act that you hoped would be as practical as it was performative.

As the two of you navigated through the house, you made pleasant small talk with all who you encountered, with you proudly introducing Joel as your boyfriend, and him taking the lead in introducing himself from time to time. After an exhausting hello tour, you had finally made it to the kitchen for drinks, something you’d surely need if you were going to keep up at this rate of socialization.

As you grabbed Joel the beer he’d requested and began to spoon out ladles of the bowl that was tape-labeled ‘ADULT Punch’ into your own cup, you were slightly surprised that you’d finally ran into your mother.

“Hi honey,” she squealed, pulling you into a hug. “How long have you been here? You avoiding me?”

While past experiences of being single during the holiday season and having to interact with your mother often ended up with you suffering for the entirety of the night–or an entire week, like the time she tried to set you up with a coworker’s son–you felt a newfound confidence with the knowledge that Joel was just a few feet away from you, diligently playing the perfect boyfriend.

“We just got here,” you giggled at her typical overbearing self. For once, your guard was down, knowing that she would not be attempting to set you up with anyone, or hounding you about coming home and settling down with a nice local.

“We?” she asked dramatically, brows raised in surprise. “Is your sister somewhere around here, or something?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” you feigned offense as she stepped back to look at the two drinks in your hands. “I brought my boyfriend,” you glanced back at Joel, who was right where you left him, making enthusiastic smalltalk with one of your cousins about the Cowboys game. Like a good little fake boyfriend, upon catching your eye he excused himself from his conversation and walked over to you and your mother.

“Mom, this is Joel, my partner,” you explained, as your gentlemanly fake boyfriend grabbed your mother’s hand and gave it a polite kiss. You certainly hadn’t forgotten about his charm back in the day, but to watch it up close and personal after so much time had passed was undoubtedly having a bit of an effect on you.

“I’ve heard all about you. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he gushed. You had to give credit where credit was due, Joel was a great actor. You’d given him a bit of backstory on your mom on the ride over to the house, and you’d certainly discussed her while the two of you were students, but definitely not to the extent that he was playing up.

“So nice to meet you,” she replied, her cheeks warming at her interactions with the man. Joel was laying it on thick, but it seemed to be working for her. “Miller, right?”

“Indeed,” he confirmed, flashing a pearly white smile at your mother. As you watched the interaction, you were doing your best to keep it together, partially wanting to laugh out loud at Joel’s overdramatic chivalrous act, and partially wanting to melt into a puddle over just how alluring he was.

“Then I’ve also heard a lot about you. My daughter had the biggest crush on you in high school! It’s so funny that you’ve ended up together now. I suppose God’s timing is always right?”

Your eyes grew wide and your mouth gaped open for a second as your mother reinforced your little secret that Joel had heard from someone else just a few days ago. Suddenly, you were feeling a lot less like a liquidy puddle, and more like the bark of a firm tree–if that tree could experience mortification. If you didn’t need it before, now you really needed that drink. He glanced at you and smiled cheekily before looking back at your mother.

“So I’ve heard,” he said with a smirk, clearly biting back a laugh. You were going to kill your mother. And maybe Naomi too, while you were at it. In fact, you might just add yourself into the mix. It certainly couldn’t hurt. Or at least, it would hurt less than the discomfiture of your fake boyfriend hearing from everyone about the huge crush you had on him.

“Mom! I think your other daughter just got here. Why don’t you go say hi to her and Ben?” you suggested, knowing that the best way to prevent her from embarrassing you any further was to distract her with the idea of embarrassing her other child in front of her significant other.

You clearly knew your mother well, because the strategy worked well enough to get her off your tail. You passed Joel his beer as he watched you closely, the same mischievous smirk lingering on his face long after your mother had left.

“Crush, huh?” he teased you, causing you to shake your head as you took a healthy sip from a deceptively strong punch.

“Shut up,” you groaned. “Please.”

As the night went on, you realized that you couldn’t have picked a better candidate to pretend to be your boyfriend at a family gathering. Joel was quite sociable and polite, even more so with a beer in his system. He didn’t even mind entertaining your family members on his own as you went off and caught up with the few members of your family that you could tolerate for more than a few minutes at a time.

Following a rather chaotic series of discussions including when you and Joel were getting engaged (never, I mean, in the next few years. Probably.), the most romantic thing you’d done (backpacking through Europe, according to Joel), and what it was like reconnecting with your high school crush (fucking fantastic), you’d finally lost track of Joel. You did a quick lap around the house before bumping into your sister and cousin, the latter of which desperately described her need for air.

The three of you huddled together outside on the deck, the spot where you seemed to find yourselves at almost every family function regardless of how fun or stressful it ended up being. While you were enjoying the mayhem of the party and enjoying your time with Joel even more, it was nice to have a little break from it all.

“I can’t believe you’ve been home for just a few days and you’ve already gotten your childhood crush wrapped around your finger,” your sister laughed, comfortably leaning against the railing of the deck.

“That’s the power of working for a Fortune 500. All of the men in your hometown just want a sugar mommy for a little bit. Get some presents for the kids and wife for free,” you joked.

“You’re kidding?” your cousin asked, her brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

“I’m kidding,” you confirmed. “You know, we aren’t even actually dating,” you confessed, lips and tongue loose from your second glass of punch.

“What?” your cousin and sister exclaimed at the same time, the two of them suddenly very alert.

Even in your not-completely-there state of mind, you could tell that you had made a mistake telling your secret. It was now very likely that the entire house would know the truth within the next hour, or that you would not be hearing the end of how terrible an idea the whole ordeal was for months on end.

“I figured you two just hit it off, or had some long distance thing going on?” your sister questioned, peering at you curiously as if your face would reveal some sort of information about your arrangement.

“Nope. It’s kinda a long story, but I guess the short of it all is that we’re pretending to be together for the holidays so certain people get off our asses,” you said casually, finishing off your drink and looking out into the backyard rather than making eye contact with either of your kin.

“Fair enough,” your cousin sighed, finally relaxing once more. “If I wasn’t already seeing Will, I’d probably do the same.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea? He really broke your heart,” your sister asked, grabbing your arm to attempt to force you to look at her, and staring at you with concern.

You were sure you could imagine what was going through her head in the moment, the vision of your heartbroken teenage self and the sound of your prolonged sobs as you questioned what your crush saw in her that he couldn’t see in you. You really couldn’t blame her for being worried. She was your older sister, after all, the task of protecting you instilled in her from the day you left the womb, and clearly not gone now. But things were different now. You were all adults, you had more life experience and perspective, and most importantly, whatever was going on between you and Joel wasn’t real, regardless of how much you might have wanted it to be.

“Yeah, when we were eighteen. I think it’ll be fine,” you dismissed, as if anything was ever that simple.

“And he seems like a sweetie now. I think my own parents were wishing I brought him home for the holidays,” your cousin, ever the peacekeeper, added as she attempted to diffuse the quickly escalating tension between you and your sibling.

“He was also a sweetie thirteen years ago when he led you on, then got someone pregnant,” your sister snapped back with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest and turning her back to you.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you declared, watching your breath float away in a cold puff of air. “Can we go inside now? I think my toes are gonna fall off.”

After a side eye from your sister and a nod of agreement from your cousin, the three of you headed back inside, where you made quick work of grabbing yet another drink and finding the fireplace.

A few couches were arranged by the fireplace, some filled from edge to edge with sleeping, snuggling children who were exhausted by the excitement of a holiday party, others with some of the older members of your family who simply needed a break from it all. Among them all, you were surprised to find Joel, enthusiastically talking to none other than your father.

Your father was probably one of the most difficult people in your life to impress. He’d maybe told you that he was proud of you a total of five times in your life. Yet, he looked content, hell, happy as he spoke to your fake boyfriend.

Part of you felt bad as you found your way to the empty spot on the couch next to Joel, but you were cold, and you weren’t going to pass up on the opportunity to warm up by the fire and the man that you had found was a bit of a human furnace.

When Joel caught sight of you, he smiled and beckoned you over, and you made quick work of maneuvering yourself past the coffee table between the couch. Once you sat down, Joel surprised you by greeting you with a gentle peck on the lips. The action temporarily shocked you, and you desperately hoped that the feeling was not reflected on your face. The naturalness of it all almost felt as if you’d done it a thousand times, and you tried your best to suppress the part of you that wanted to do it a thousand more.

“Hi honey,” Joel greeted you sweetly, his hand almost immediately finding yours. It all felt so right, and if you weren’t so endeared by him in the moment, you certainly would’ve been mildly panicking.

“It was nice meeting you, Joel, but I’m old and I’m tired, so I’m gonna head out,” your father explained, giving you a half nod as he began to stand up.

“Bye, dad. I’ll see you on Christmas?” you asked him, ignoring the panicked look that Joel was certainly sending your way.

“Sounds like a plan. Love you. Get home safe,” he bid the two of you farewell before leaving without much other fanfare.

“Why didn’t you tell me that was your dad?” Joel asked you, looking at you with wide eyes. You laughed a little bit at his panic, finding the dumbfounded look on his face more adorable than you’d like to admit.

“Thought it might’ve come up in conversation, or something,” you shrugged, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day, mixed with the criminally strong punch set in. “Why do you care so much? Trying to make a good impression, Miller?” you teased.

“You’re the worst,” he groaned, then laughed as you snuggled up to his side. You weren’t exactly sure whether the laugh was coming from discomfort or relief, but with the bone-deep cold you were feeling and alcohol in your system, you couldn’t exactly bring yourself to care. “You’re also really cold. Are you okay?”

“Mmm, you’re really warm,” you replied, settling against his warm body unconsciously.

“Someone’s feeling the punch,” he replied, wrapping an arm around you as you closed your eyes.

“It was way stronger than it needed to be,” you agreed in a murmur against his sweater. “Thank you for being such a good fake boyfriend tonight.”

“It was actually pretty fun. I like your family a lot,” he confessed, trying his best to maintain eye contact with you despite the fact that you were in the express lane to dreamland and your blinks were beginning to turn into miniature naps.

“Everyone liked you too. I owe you,” you yawned, dropping your head from the soft fabric of his sweater to the denim of his jeans.

“Mhm. Wanna head home?” he asked.

“How’d you know?” you responded as Joel chuckled above you.

The ride back home was a mostly quiet one, with Christmas music playing softly on the radio and you dozing off in the passenger seat. Every now and then Joel glanced over at you, and the few times that your eyes were actually open, you wondered what it was that he was thinking. Was he checking up on you to make sure you were still alive? Probably. But you just swore there was something else in his eyes, something you’d seen when Ben looked at your sister, or when your parents looked at each other.

But that was probably just the exhaustion speaking.

Once you arrived at your sister’s place, Joel made quick work of helping you get inside safely, even helping you get to bed at your own insistence. Even in your not sober and exhausted state, you knew that you didn’t want the night to end. Even in your less than ideal state of mind, you knew that the way you were feeling about Joel was unsustainable.

—

The soft, dim lighting of a restaurant that felt fancy even for you seemed to beam down on you, encouraging little beads of sweat to collect at your forehead and the creases of your arms. As much as you were desperately trying to maintain the appearance of being cool and collected, your staccato breaths, wobbly smile, and the rapidly appearing perspiration were quite clearly selling you out. You couldn’t help but to stare down at your menu like it was the most interesting thing in the world, the intimidation of sitting across from your fake partner’s ex-wife’s heated glare far more intense than what you’d expected. Far worse than sharing a brief, yet artificial moment of PDA in a grocery store, and far more than you expected to be able to handle. Yet, Joel had done the same for you, and really, it was only fair that you would do the same.

After the Christmas party, you hadn’t really expected to hear anything else from your date. As far as you knew, Joel had only agreed to play pretend with you for one night, and as fun as that night was, it was all fake.

As much as you hated to admit it, your sister was maybe, just a little bit right about the whole ordeal not being your best idea. You couldn’t help but think about the two of you at the party—how he’d held your hand like your hands were two pieces of a puzzle that were made for each other, how he cuddled with you on the couch and looked at you with such genuine concern when he thought you might not be well, but above all, you were stuck on his confession to you, about how beautiful you looked and how scared he was to tell you.

You couldn’t believe that you were still making these kinds of stupid decisions, the type of decisions that made you want to lay in bed all day with a pint of ice cream and a soap opera playing on the revision, and not do work—the very work that you came back to Austin to do.

But despite your urge to shut down, you tried your absolute best to do what you set out to do. You spent hours tossing ingredients in mixers, whipping egg whites into stiff peaks, and narrowly avoiding burning yourself as you took trays out of the oven. Only at the end of the day, as you wiped your forehead with a flour-covered arm and checked your phone did you realize that you’d missed a call from Joel.

After a quick call-back and an explanation to your sister that you would no longer be third wheeling the night’s tree-lighting ceremony with her, you had somehow managed to renew your little agreement with Joel. Your task being a performance of being the perfect, dream girlfriend to Joel Miller, a task that you hoped you would be up for.

But as you sat at the table next to Joel, nearly sweating your mascara off, you began to question the extent of your capabilities within this particular role.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Naomi began, the sharp wing of her eyeliner and the depths of her eyes feeling like they were poking and prodding into you, searching for any weakness or insecurity to be exploited. “What are you up to these days?”

“Well, apart from making the most of my time with Joel,” you looked over at him with what you hoped appeared to be adoration, but probably came across more accurately as the fear you were experiencing, and grabbed his bicep–what you hoped to appear like a fond move, but was something more like you bracing onto him for dear life. “I’m a consultant in New York City. It definitely takes up a lot of my time, but it also feels like every second of free time I have, I’m spending it on the phone with this one.”

You and Joel chuckled, your choked out laugh feeling far more artificial than his. You hoped to whatever powers above that you would somehow manage to convince the couple across from you to believe a story that you could barely even believe yourself, although, with the way that Naomi was still glaring at you, you doubted that being the case.

“That sounds fun,” she replied, leaning forward slightly as if she was ready to sink her teeth into you two and absolutely tear you apart. “So how’d you two reconnect?”

Joel, clearly sensing your discomfort, came to your rescue with a quick, preplanned answer. “Remember when I took Sarah to Manhattan earlier this year?” Joel began, averting his gaze from you and onto his ex, who now shot Joel a pleasant, yet, rehearsed smile.

“Mhm,” she replied, seemingly already entertained by where the story might end up going.

“Well, we ran into each other at a coffee shop a few blocks away from her workplace and really just hit it off. The rest is history,” he said, turning his attention back towards you.

“You two were hitting it off in front of our daughter?” Naomi asked, the slight tilt to her head and hint of smirk on her face revealing that her question was less out of concern for their child, and more out of taking an opportunity to antagonize the two of you.

“It was more like reconnecting. I swear, Joel is the only person in the world to think that recommending my favorite bagel shop in the city is flirting,” you attempted to save, not wanting to be labeled as a threat to their child just a few minutes into dinner.

“To my credit, you were selling it pretty hard. You were practically saying, ‘come with me to get bagels tomorrow,’” Joel added on, seemingly lighting up as the two of you added more and more to your fake meet-cute.

“Next time you visit we’ll get all the bagels you want, my love. We can even split them Lady and The Tramp style,” you giggled, feeling your cheeks warm as you imagined you and Joel at the opposite ends of one cream cheese filled bagel.

“Okay, yeah, I get it. I was just joking, anyway,” she replied, clearly fed up with the two of you.

“Sorry,” you apologized, actually feeling a little bad about how long your little bit had gone on. “What about you two? How’d you and Henry meet?”

“It’s actually a pretty cute story,” Henry spoke up after being a passive spectator for an uncomfortable period of time. “Noms had just moved out west a little bit after the divorce, and the two of us met in a yoga class. I accidentally took her yoga mat, and it was… what did you say earlier? The rest was history?”

The two of them shared an intimate laugh, one that indicated that they were referencing some sort of inside joke, just as you and Joel had earlier after you’d shared what you’d been doing with your life since high school. You glanced over at Joel, his pressed smile and slightly furrowed brows a clear indicator that he was not impressed by the two of them. Thankfully, before the tension could go any further, a kind waitress interrupted the conversation with the simple question of whether or not your table was ready to order.

Shortly after ordering, the conversation picked up once again. While you occasionally were able to ask a question or two about the couple sitting across from you, it above all felt like you and Joel were being interrogated about the nature of your relationship. Lies easily flowed from both of your tongues, sandwiched between fond looks shared between the two of you as if there was no one else in the room, and stolen moments of physical affection that seemed to warm you from the inside-out.

As the two of you added more and more onto your story, the more you began to yearn for the more intricate details of it all to be true.

You wanted to receive a bouquet of flowers on your doorstep from someone almost two-thousand miles from you, just because he’d been thinking about you. You wanted to have a reason to come back and visit the city you grew up in, and to learn about every new hole-in-the-wall shop that had come to mean a lot to him. You wanted to take on his hobbies, and have him take on some of yours despite you both being terrible at them, solely because you knew that the other cared about it. The longer the night went on, the clearer everything became: you wanted all of this and more with Joel, but you’d clearly never be able to have him.

It was no longer a question to you of if your arrangement should end, and had clearly become a matter of when it was going to end. No matter how much fun you were having holding Joel’s hand under the table and feeding the man next to you bites of scallop, you knew it wasn’t sustainable to be feeling so strongly about a situation that had been doomed from the start.

You were undoubtedly treading a very thin line between getting your hopes up for what wasn’t, but could be, and savoring every last second you had with Joel, pretending to be something that the two of you were very obviously not. With the arrival and passing of dessert, and the final spoonfuls of a split chocolate cake, you’d realized that your time with Joel had ended; a conclusion as bitter as the dark chocolate garnish on your shared plate.

The two of you held hands once more as you walked out to his car, fingers lingering together even after the couple you’d been putting a show on were safely tucked away in their own vehicle. You didn’t talk much on your ride back home, the air thick with a tension that made you wonder if Joel had come to a similar conclusion of his own during dinner. The radio filled in the silence where words lacked, covers of Christmas songs filling in for the conversation that surely should’ve been occurring.

After a ride that felt like it had lasted forever and no time at all, you had finally arrived at your sister’s place, the final resting ground for whatever your relationship had been.

“Thanks,” you said as you unclipped your seatbelt, wanting to rip the bandaid off and leave as quickly as humanly possible, while also lingering in his car forever. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah,” he looked at you for a moment as if he had something more to say, but was holding his tongue. Taking one long look at your face, then offering you a weak half smile, he spoke once more. “You too.”

Though you were mildly disappointed when you didn’t hear back from Joel, you couldn’t say that you were particularly surprised. Everything about your final encounter in his truck indicated that the very brief chapter in both of your lives of pretending to be what you both were not was over. Still, you couldn’t deny the remnant ache in your chest when your father asked where your boyfriend was over Christmas dinner, or the pathetic way that you secretly hoped every ring of the bakery door would deliver you Joel Miller, much like your first day back in Austin did.

Once again, you attempted to drown yourself in your work, working from open to close at your sister’s bakery and ending the day with sore legs, flour in your hair, and an intense desire to never consume anything sweet ever again. You somehow even managed to convince your boss to let you clock a few virtual hours at your actual job, spending all of the time that you were not at the bakery in your temporary bedroom, doing whatever tasks would set you ahead by the time you returned to work.

You realized you weren’t being particularly subtle with the fact that you were trying to distract yourself from something, and while your sister did her best to be whatever it was that you needed during such a bizarre time, she didn’t exactly press, though you were sure she had a bit of an idea of what was making you feel so down.

“Hey, I have a catering job for us,” she informed you one morning as the two of you worked side-by-side.

“When? You remember I’m leaving tomorrow, right?” you sighed, hoping your sister recognized your mild annoyance as less with her, and more with your time in Austin as a whole. You desperately wanted to leave, but you’d promised to stay until the new year began, when orders typically began to slow down. (“Resolutions,” she told you over the phone as you prepared to come back home.)

“Of course I remember,” she shook her head playfully as she spoke to you. “It’s tonight. At the Spoke. They’re doing some New Year’s Eve thing, and I think it’ll be fun.”

“I think maybe we have two different definitions of fun,” you commented, continuing to roll out the piece of dough in front of you.

“Oh, come on. What were you going to be doing anyway?” she pressed you, her attempt to get you to get out of the house clear as day now. “Working in your bedroom during your break? Sulking for reasons you refuse to share with me? Watching episodes of The Bachelor that you’ve seen a hundred times already?”

“Ugh, okay, okay. I’ll do it. We’ll do it,” you finally conceded.

“Good! Now, do you want a coffee? We’re gonna have a lot of trays to finish today.”

You couldn’t deny that it made you feel a little bit better knowing that you had somewhere fun to go that night. Despite living in Texas for the first portion of your life, you’d never had the opportunity to go to any sort of dance hall, and though you’d probably be spending the majority of your time distributing cupcakes to people, you were excited to be doing something fun regardless.

After your longest and final shift at the bakery, your sister hugged you as tight as she could manage and thanked you for everything you’d helped her accomplish this holiday season, before sending you back home to get dressed up for the dance hall. After deciding to go full cowgirl with your attire, you peered in your sibling’s closet for any article of clothing that you could borrow for the night, and ultimately left her closet with a completely different wardrobe.

Even as you and your sister arrived at the dance hall early to set up, patrons were already beginning to flood into the venue. Their excited energy was contagious, and you couldn’t help but feel invigorated, your downtrodden feelings being replaced with much more positive ones.

As the night went on, you found yourself having more and more fun, whether it was from distributing pastries to rosy-cheeked dancers who paused to take a break from the floor, or flirty gentlemen who took the brief moment of your fingers touching over a distributed cupcake to ask to buy you a drink. While you were sure that you would’ve had a decent time doing nothing at home, then popping a bottle of champagne at midnight, the night was certainly shaping up to be a memorable one.

Time seemed to be flying by as you stood by the table, offering cupcakes to whoever passed you by. It wasn’t long before Ben arrived, and your sister was excusing herself from the table to share a dance with her partner. You watched the two of them with adoration, thinking of how you would love to have someone to come sweep you off your feet and offer to dance with you–well, someone other than a sweaty patron. As much as you’d tried to convince yourself over the years that you weren’t cut out for relationships, your trip and weird fake dating arrangement with Joel had made you realize something of the opposite. Maybe you’d be ringing in the New Year with a Hinge download.

After passing out the final cupcake you had, you began to break down boxes and put away some of the other items you’d brought to help the distribution process go more smoothly. With your back turned to the dance floor as you dropped leftover napkins into a plastic bag, you were surprised as you heard a familiar voice greet you from behind.

“Joel?” you said as you looked up at the patiently waiting person, surprised to see his face after such an abrupt ending and a period of radio silence between the two of you.

“Hi,” he said, almost shyly.

“Hi. Sorry, we just ran out of cupcakes” you stated, trying to pretend that things were business as usual between the two of you–whatever business as usual meant now.

“I don’t…” Joel trailed off before ditching the idea altogether, surely figuring that whatever he had to say was more important than an explanation of how he was uninterested in the treats you were serving. “Can we talk?”

“I mean,” you hesitated for a moment, wondering if it would be better to avoid everything altogether and simply move on with your life. You could simply tell him no, hop on a plane the following afternoon, then never think about Joel again. It would all be so simple and easy–the exact opposite of what your relationship had spiraled into during your time back in Austin. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s talk.”

The truth was, as easy as you would’ve liked it to be, you were intrigued by Joel’s nervous body language. As he shifted from foot to foot and subtly picked at his hand, you imagined him walking into the hall with his friends, or whoever it was that he came with, seeing you, and immediately going to leave the venue, only staying from the coercion and peer pressure of his peers. You imagined him spending the night working up the nerve to come say to you what was left unspoken the last time the two of you talked, hoping that the beers in his system and all of the dancing would finally get enough jitters out of him to finally address you.

“I’m all ears,” you shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest in a subconscious protective measure. Even though he could do no physical harm to you, your brain was all too aware of the damage he’d done to your heart in the past.

“I’m sorry. For everything. For not reaching out to you after our dinner, and for being an oblivious idiot in high school. And I guess, for being an oblivious idiot now,” he began to blather, glancing down nervously at his shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

You were surprised by his words and slightly unsure of what to say, or even think in response. Now that you had heard his apology, you were beginning to have an idea of the direction that this confession was likely going to take, and you couldn’t tell if you should be leaping for joy or finding the nearest exit. Maybe you could figure out a way to do both, jumping and skipping as you left through the fire exit.

Joel began to search for his next words and you tried to ignore the racing heartbeat in your chest as you attempted to search for your own. Just when you were thinking that it would be impossible for your situation to get any more uncomfortable, a man slightly shorter than Joel and who oddly resembled him sauntered up to the table where the two of you were attempting to speak.

“It’s gonna be twelve soon! Come dance!” the man shouted at Joel, his accent heavy and his words slurred as he grabbed onto Joel’s flannel sleeve. Joel shot him a dirty look, one that clearly communicated his annoyance, but didn’t exactly scream surprised.

“Not now, Tommy,” Joel reprimanded, his gritted teeth and tense demeanor making you want to laugh–if not for his reaction, then over the surrealistic nature of the scene. Mere moments into some sort of apology or confession, the two of you had been interrupted by his intoxicated acquaintance asking him to dance.

“Yes now, Joel. C’mon, lighten up!” the man practically whined, eliciting an exasperated eye roll from Joel. He looked back at you with tense shoulders and worry in his eyes, and you couldn’t exactly tell if he was looking for backup or sympathy. Instead of responding to him with either, you gave him a shy shrug of approval.

“We can talk while we dance?” you suggested, part of you hoping that maybe the distraction of doing something else while you spoke would make your conversation a little less difficult.

Taking Joel’s hand, you followed the men out to the dance floor, where Tommy had disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared to interrupt Joel’s confession. Part of you wondered if this had been premeditated, or if Joel’s drunk friend was simply not able to read the room.

“Before we start, I have a confession of my own,” you began, hoping that what you were about to say would at least lighten up the mood of your conversation. Clearly, the two of you struggled with communicating your feelings, and you hoped sharing what you were prepared to share would at least be helpful in opening up a line of communication.

“Yeah?” he said hopefully. You tried your best to fight the smile that was threatening to appear on your face at the sound of his tone, but ultimately failed.

“I don’t have a damn clue how to do this,” you confessed, glancing over at the pairings around you moving together as if they had done these steps a million times–and knowing your town, they probably had.

“It’s fine,” he said without an ounce of judgment in his voice. “I’ll teach you how.”

And he did, his mouth pressed closely to your ear as he counted off numbers in time with the live band just a few feet away from you, and directed your body left, right, back, and forward until you finally seemed to get the hang of the dance. Though there was still an elephant remaining in the room, dancing seemed to be successful in alleviating some of the tension that lingered.

“Is it okay if we continue our conversation?” Joel asked as the two of you took a synchronized step back. Your eyes were trained on your nearly matching boots, and the thought of having to face your feelings–or the lack thereof–made your stomach churn. Once again, you began to consider the most efficient exit routes.

“Of course,” you replied, doing your best to mask the nerves that had bubbled right back up as you finally met his eye.

“I was so excited to see you, when I found out you were back in town. I guess there was still part of me that wondered what things might have been like if things were different. Then I saw you in the store, and we started doing… whatever we were doing, and I just kept wanting more. It just felt so real, too real, and I started wanting more than what I could have. I mean, you live so far away, and even if you didn’t, I’m sure you have romantic prospects all over the place. Why would you settle for me?”

You almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Joel still thought about you? He had begun to want more in the same way that you did the more your fake relationship progressed? He thought he wasn’t good enough for you?

“Joel-” you began, his name slipping off your tongue involuntarily. You desperately wanted to dispute his claims, but he didn't let you finish.

“I guess I just wanted to apologize for how I acted. I didn’t want you to assume that things ended how they ended for any other reason other than me making terrible decisions as usual.” Once again, it was Joel’s turn to look uncomfortable, and you couldn’t exactly blame him after what he shared with you.

“I accept your apology, but it wasn’t all your fault. And you’re not an idiot,” you clarified in between a spin, finishing your sentence as Joel pulled you back to him. “I was disappointed, but I understood. Honestly, I was starting to feel the same way with you. Our fake dating was starting to feel a little too much like real dating, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up when you were clearly uninterested.”

“But I’m not uninterested,” Joel looked at you with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, which only seemed to be highlighted by the fact that his arm was draped across your torso, a welcome result of the spinning move. “I want to try, if you want to try. The distance is a hurdle, but we can give it a shot, at the very least. We can visit each other when we get the chance. We can watch the same episodes of The Bachelor, then discuss it afterward.”

“Oh my god, who told you about that?” you remarked, interrupting his big speech.

“Your sister. At the Christmas party,” Joel replied, his cheeks flush with the adrenaline of sharing his feelings with you and the excitement of dreaming of a future with you.

“She’s unbelievable,” you murmured, shaking your head the slightest bit before Joel continued.

“But that’s besides the point. We can send each other delivered gifts, and can talk to each other every day, like what you told Naomi.”

“What I told her when I was lying?” you asked with a laugh, reminiscing on your dinner.

“Well, yeah… But it doesn’t have to be a lie. I can come visit you, and you can come visit me. We can get bagels at your favorite shop when I come to the city. I can teach you how to dance when you come to Austin. Maybe it’s crazy, but I think we can try. Should try.”

“I would like nothing more than that,” you confessed, an honest truth that seemed to light you up from the inside. Hearing Joel’s almost crazed rant about how passionate he was about trying made you a little less afraid of your possible future together, and a whole lot more sure about your feelings for the man.

“Then let’s do it. Let’s do it right this time,” he said as the music finally came to a conclusion, being swapped out for none other than the chant of a countdown.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

As cheers of ‘Happy New Years’ rang out, Joel gently directed your face towards his, your noses and foreheads pleasantly bumping into each other. As your lips finally touched, it felt as if two puzzle pieces designed for each other and meant to be together had finally fallen into place, the rumble of fireworks outside celebrating the long-awaited union between the two of your bodies.

In the past, the affection the two of you had shared had felt real, but deep down you were aware that it was nothing more than a farce. A façade to trick judgmental exes and prying family members. But this time, the affection was different.

The growing warm feeling in your chest, the electric sparks on your skin where Joel was touching you, and the look of admiration in his eyes once you’d finally pulled away told you everything you needed to know.

This was real.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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mikareo · 5 months

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“ ࣭⸰ ★ 1:04 AM . . . nanami kento (0.5k)

contains; nanami x fem!reader, established relationship, timestamp, extremely suggestive (but it's sfw) author's note; i found this in my docs from 2021

nanami kento is a dreamboat.

he gasps at the slightest touch of your hands, your fingertips grazing his navel—reaching below the hem of his sleeping shirt and pulling it up and over his head. the fabric is nothing but a loose garment in respect to the events that are about to take place; events that you’ve looked forward to since the moment he’d spoken his first words to you— that silly little order of coffee you’d never forget…not that you’d ever even want to forget a single second of time at his side.

“please,” nanami murmurs against your lips.

he surges forwards again and again in attempts to get closer to you— to feel your warmth and reside in it until the sun rises over the horizon. you, his beautiful sunshine girl; the person that he wants to spend the rest of his life with. the only girl that he’s ever said those meaningful three words to. “i need more, baby. i need more of you. no one else, just you.”

“just me?” you smirk, ghosting his lips and leaving him longing for more.

rather than giving him exactly what he wants, which would be no fun at all, you take in the view, admiring the man that you’re so lucky to call yours. with his disheveled hair, void of styling gel and structure, he looks like something out of a movie. an actor on the silver screen staring at the costar that he accidentally fell in love with— a real-life fairytale, a real-life happily ever after. if there was a romance written based on your love story, you’d watch it a million times and more; over and over again until the dvd is too scratched up to play, to which you’d then move on to streaming services and have that film forever. nanami is better than a male lead from a romcom or kdrama.

he’s a dream.

he’s a dream you get to live every night.

as you grip his face with your hands— tracing the corners of his jawline with gentle ease and love— your gaze dips down and notices your favorite part of the view. his toned skin and hardened abdomen are both things that you can never get used to no matter how often you stare. a six-pack, bordering eight, that’s yours for the keeping— a body like the gods, gifted to you in a garden of golden apples just for your picking.

“kento,” you sigh out, breathing heavily and sighing at the feeling of his lips against your neck. no doubt, he’s leaving countless bruises and marks on your plush skin, with shades of purple and blue coming out of their hibernation and into the light that is the dawn of day— night turning to morning behind the sheer shades of your bedroom windows. “how is it that you’ve got me begging?”

letting out a harsh chuckle, he takes a hold of your torso, rolling over on the mattress in order to change your position— finding his natural place above you and dominating his presence over your meek posture.

“quiet, baby.” nanami commands, reaching upwards and away from your waist. his thick fingers near your mouth, briefly taking them inside before yanking your chin down. “suck.” his eyes are dark, forcing you forward and down his digits. “suck like a good girl.”

you’re in for a long night.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀will be an ongoing set of timestamps w/ nanami ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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keerysfreckles · 20 days

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enough for you — MV1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

summary: max finds himself at the losing end of a bar fight, and he has no where else to go but your own apartment.

warnings: she/her pronouns, google translated dutch, slight swearing, mentions of blood/injuries

a/n: idk how i feel abt this one..

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

you haven't heard from max in years. the two of you had an awful falling out. years of you being best friends, turned into a budding relationship. only for it to be thrown away when you caught max with another girl in your apartment.

you hated him for it. you still do. since then you haven't spoken a single word to each other, and you were hoping to keep it that way.

nothing changed in your nightly routine as you re-heated left overs from lunch, and put on a classic romcom you found on netflix.

your life definitely changed when you and max stopped talking. charles and carlos stopped going to your apartment. you didn't hang out with lando or pierre as much anymore. most of the grid completely ghosted you, besides checo. he knew how hard it was for you to move on after max, he was there for you every step of the way.

your routine however was interrupted by a loud knock on your apartment door. you paused the movie, just as jane was about to show kevin all 27 bridesmaids dresses.

you look over your appearance quickly in your small hallway mirror before opening the door.

"what the hell are you doing here?" you snap.

max fucking verstappen was on the other side of the doorway. his knuckles dark red, stained with blood. his hair was messy, also containing remnants of blood. as if he wes running his fingers through it on the way here. a small bruise started to form underneath his eye, only going to grow in the next hour.

his shuddered breathing took over as he spoke, "i had no where else to go liefje." darling.

you immediately shook your head, "don't call me that."

all max did was look down, another thing seeming to go wrong for him tonight.

you open the door wider and step to the side, silently letting him in your apartment. all of the memories come flooding back with every step he takes, in the space he used to live.

you ordered him to wait in your bedroom while you went in the opposite direction, torwards your bathroom.

you grabbed everything you could; wipes, bandaids, disinfectant. you quickly went back to the kitchen to grab an ice pack for his growing bruise.

"het spijt me, liefje," i'm sorry darling his voice is raspy when you sit beside him on your bed.

you don't respond at first, thinking of the right words to say. you simply hand him the icepack as you start cleaning his left hand.

after moments of silence, your curiosity gets the best of you. "what happened?" you ask.

his adams apple bobs, before he takes a deep breath. "these guys at the bar i was at were talking about you."

your eyebrows furrorw, "me? why would strangers be talking about me?"

max turns to face you more snd shrugged, "one of them mentioned being on a date with you, and all they could think about was," he pauses. you stop your movements and look max in the eyes, encouraging him to go on. "he kept saying how much of a bang you'd be."

you and max both grimace. you knew what he was reffering to though. you were planning on going on a date later in the week with a guy you met from one of your friends. you make a mental note to yourself to stand up the asshole.

"so why did you get into a fight?" you continue wiping the blood from his knuckles, hearing him hiss before he spoke again.

"i couldn't just sit there while he was talking so badly of you. so i asked to talk to him outside, and i tried defending you. i really did."

you run your fingers over his hand, calming him before he starts to ramble.

he continues, "it was no use though. he obviously won," he sighs, his shoulders dropping.

you still couldn't believe the words that came out of max's mouth. even after years of silence between you two, he proved he would still do anything for you. you couldn't help but let your heart beat for him.

his eyes land on your intertwined hands. "i've missed you liefje." his voice is quiet, and you think you've heard him incorrectly at first.

you chuckle drly. "don't. don't do that max."

he brings his hand away from yours. "what? i can't be honest with you anymore?"

you shake your head for the second time tonight, starting to get tired of max's moodswings again.

you don't know why you let max in again in the first place. in your apartment, and in your heart. maybe you thought he changed, but that wasn't the case.

you throw the supplies down in your bathroom, not caring where they land in the process.

"get out," you storm into your room.

silently, max stands and heads in the direction of your front door.

"glad to know you haven't changed," he mumbles, probably thinking you dont hear him.

"excuse me?"

he turns, right before he was about to leave from your life again.

"you were never one to deal with change. when my feelings started changing about you, you threw me out."

you can't help but laugh, "no, no! that is not what happened. you cheated on me after i told you i wasn't ready to move to monaco with you."

max rolls his eyes, only irritating you more.

you move around him to open the door, "get out," you demand again.

he does as you say, rubbing his hands over his face and sighs.

"i've never stopped loving you," he states, just before you slam the door in his face.

you shake your head once again, but he continues.

"i still care about you, and i know you still care about me. you wouldn't have let me in tonight if you didn't."

"just leave max," the irritation starts making it's way to your throat, making your words tight.

max shakes his head, "i can't leave knowing damn well i want you in my life again."

"what if i don't want you in mine?"

max places his hands on his hips, "we both know that's a lie."

"wha–"

max points behind you, "you still have the tv stand you and i put together right after we started dating."

you're about to tell him to leave again, but he continues.

"in your room, you still had the paintings we made on our third date after we both got drunk. your shoes are still organized by color, thanks to my doing. you still have the ice pack i gave you when you hit your head at my place trying to cheer me up after a bad race."

you're at a loss for words, speechless because of max's confession.

"i still love you liefje, and i don't think i can ever stop." his voice cracks. once you don't answer his shoulders drop again. you watch him finally leave your doorway, walking into the rain that started to drop from dark clouds.

you cover your face, contemplating what you should do. part of you wants to close your door. to let max out of your life once and for all. but the other part of you wants to run to him. to hold him again.

you run out of your apartment, without shoes and without a jacket. you weren't entirely sure what you were doing, or what you were going to say. but you couldn't turn around now, you were already grabbing on his arm.

"you remember those things?"

max is quiet, looking down at you. you wonder what he could be thinking. but right now you can't help but make a fool of yourself.

you start to ramble, as your words come out rushed.

"max you know i can't leave you. i– i just can't. you cross my mind more times than i want to admit. i don't hate you, and i don't want you to leave. sometimes i turn on a race just to know if you're still doing okay. i haven't lived my life properly since you left. and yes max, i know i'm supposed to be mad at you, but truth is i can't."

you finally stop to take a full breath, and you make eye contact with max again. you see the small smirk resting on his face. his now wet hair was causing water droplets to drip down his forehead and onto his nose.

"are you just gonna stand there and make me continue rambling?" you wipe the rain from your eyes.

max shrugs with a playfulness hidden behind his words, "yeah, it's kind of cute seeing you flustered."

a blush rises to your cheeks, at his next words.

"it just makes me want to kiss you more."

within 2 seconds, max's hands cup your cheeks before he connects his lips to yours. you grab onto his wrists gently, stabilizing yourself. you've missed his lips more than you want to admit. the softness of his lips is contradicting to your own chapped ones.

you move your hands to his hair, gripping at the short strands towards the back of his neck. a beautiful throaty groan fills your mouth, and god you've never wanted to be closer to him than you are right now.

#shelbi writes #keerysfreckles #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x fem!reader #max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen x fem reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine

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capslocked · 6 months

Text

KINKVEMBER DAY: 9

[prompt: problematic relationships]

male reader x nana

10k words

"Do you have any idea how long I've thought about it?" Nana slips a finger between the buttons of your shirt. "You, me - us?"

And here, you actually, truthfully do not want to know.

So, go ahead, cue up the sound of a mental rolodex spinning out while you start to list the very real, very valid, very adult reasons you should never, ever put your hands on her. (1) She's too young for you, (2) you're kind of a community figure, or at least someone who has to appear to be one, and more pertinently (3) she was your student not long enough ago - in your ethics class, the irony of which is not lost on you - and that makes it the kind of dirty, low thing you'd feel guilty for even masturbating to. Let alone actually attempt to live through, no matter how insistent some parts of you might be to the contrary, a point emphasized by the pressure of her finger against the dip just below your sternum.

"These... oh, how should I call them." Nana hums softly just before easing a bit of distance between the two of you, head tilting like she's in a trailer for this summer's romcom, and not, you know, trying to drag you into hell. "Filthy little fantasies?"

You're a high school teacher, interdisciplinary. Sometimes history, other times philosophy, you've also taught math - and once, egregiously, home economics when the faculty member whose usual duties consisted of teaching the class was out on a very sudden and scandalous maternity leave. But it's your love of literature that finds you in a bookstore near enough to the high school to sell more used copies of intro textbooks than actual novels.

You're paging through a book you'd say you're considering buying - if any of the store staff were to push the question onto you - when she appears at the other end of the fiction aisle.

You catch the look first of her dyed hair, this perfect shade of chocolate, to the edges, the fade-to-brown, cascading over where a more formal shirt would ostensibly have shoulders.

She smiles; it's pretty.

Then, you make the mistake of glancing down and seeing the modest rise of her chest beneath a crisp-collared sleeveless top; all your typical college-age tells but for the red flannel, rolled back down around her waist. Her fingers, long and thin, dangle from where a uniform button-down would taper off around her wrist, thumb rubbing lazily at her forearm. The briefest glimpse of her nails, all done up in acrylic - perhaps the most potent way to show contempt for an old dress-code.

You have, admittedly, also noticed the length (appropriately, the lack thereof) of her pleated skirt and those frilly stockings that ride so far up the creamy curves of her thighs that it has your stomach rolling and tightening when she shuts closed the book in her hands and says -

"Isn't it weird how most of the novels in the romance section are written by women?”

- she speaks with a slow deliberateness, like she'd only ever hoped to find one of her old teachers alone and slightly vulnerable in a used bookstore -

“Like, how do you think a man would even go about writing those kinds of stories?" She grins, because maybe this isn't really a question at all - not one meant for you, certainly. And for one wild moment, the rush of relief (she's not actually talking to you), then panic (she's actually talking to you.) surges through you.

But then the girl pushes another couple books along the shelf and continues.

"Because I'll tell you what, Professor - all this stuff," a flip-flip-flip of her fingertips against a leathery dustjacket, "about just feeling it, not being able to control it. It's all women, always women." Another wave of her hand to set another row of spines a-shuddering. "Do you ever think maybe people will get tired of listening to girls talking about feelings when what they really need to see is what guys would do?"

There are so many reasons you should turn and run.

So many little flags, flickering wildly in your mind. This is one of your students. Was it this fall? Maybe the last; she had sat front-center. Never slept in, was one of your best by several measures - not simply in regards to the simple repetition of classroom work, but by her insistence on getting in the kind of heated discussion where one might dig their fingers through the innards of your lectures. Not just good - fantastic.

"Nayeon," you end up saying, flat as your suddenly paper-dry mouth can make it - with just the tiniest hint of unease. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

And almost as if she knows that you're trying not to let your eyes dip any lower than the collar of her shirt, her shoulders do that lilting little move (hiking up and away just so), the one that your girls tend to learn a long, long time before your boys ever manage to figure out. She laughs out this pleasant sound, adds: "not that long, sir."

"Well," you're clearing your throat, looking around the bookstore like it might contain a way out, and eventually landing somewhere on her skirt, "you know how fast it all goes."

"Nana, by the way."

“I’m sorry?”

“Nana,” She gently corrects you again with this mischievous slant to her smile, and you start remembering: all the gossip and rumors, how she was being courted by these talent-scouts and labels. A prodigy, or as close to it as anyone from this town could ever get.

Your eyes are starting to sting again when she, this perfect-fit model of your worst impulses, runs her hand through her hair, tugging at the roots a little bit, a silver wristwatch falling slightly down the perfect length of her forearm. It almost hurts not to reach out and steady her. And it definitely shouldn't, but it has you breathing a bit faster. The rationalization: you are a man, and there is a perfectly ordinary part of you that might be aroused by any amount of smooth, inviting skin. That's fine. You're fine.

"Just for the record," Nana starts, still looking like she wants to put a hand forward and hook one long fingernail into the buttons of your shirt. "You were, like, absolutely one of my favorite teachers."

"I guess it's nice to hear I'm not a complete lost cause," you say.

She snorts. "Oh, definitely not." And maybe because, after all of the years you have been teaching these soon-to-be lawyers, politicians, and doctors, you've come to not look down on them for saying the wrong things so much. Though you do envy their absolute ability to say the wrongest of things - just so - just on purpose.

"Are you," you nod at the thick stack of paperback novels that she is still holding, and with which, suddenly, she's bashful and flustered - this perfect shade of pink blossoming through her cheeks. "Actually here to buy those?"

The response: a demure little shrug. A drawl. "We all have our vices, professor."

"I'm not your teacher anymore," and remembering at the last moment, "Nana, you can drop the honorifics, please."

She holds a book out, cover turned toward you, and your mind stalls - even your fingers slip a little where they are resting on the spine of your own paperback purchase. The title is an affront to literacy, and the art on the cover seems to have been produced only with stock photos, gaudy.

"Have you heard of it?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Well," she laughs and has the courtesy not to lay it at your expense, "it is so good." Then, without missing a beat, she twists her lips together, and finds the book flush against your chest. "I'm sure it beats reading textbooks and essays about the merits of Locke and Hobbes' life-after-death stuff all day, anyway. An hour if you can spare the time? I'd love to hear your thoughts on it"

And - ah, there it is. The push.

There is a zero percent chance that, after any of this, things will end neatly for either of you.

You still wonder, slightly, how long Nana will keep up the charade before breaking character - because there's no way in hell she doesn't see what she's doing: wrapping you around her pretty fingers, her shiny, manicured nails, twisting every chance you get to reject her into an excuse to linger that little bit longer.

But it's well over an hour spent at the cafe-end of the bookstore, where she orders an iced-coffee and fills you in on the details you don't really need to hear, what she's been up to these last couple semesters - playing twenty questions; questions about other faculty members, the school, if the school newspaper is still anything like it used to be (for the record: no), then coming back to if you've been seeing anyone lately. That last one slips in so naturally you can't stop yourself from taking a slow drag off of the straw in your drink and answering: "not recently."

Because no honest deed goes unpunished, or however the saying goes.

"Hey," her hands splay out over the tabletop, pushing the cold, condensing water of her glass, smudging where a finger drags a line through the pool.

Maybe she knows. How you're already caught, and there's no going back, which is to say you're perfectly free to watch, hungrily, where her throat moves, and then where her lips part.

"I’ve got the perfect thing for that," and for one unhinged, hysterical moment you picture it, Nana: lying back against a counter or maybe in the cushions of a sofa, panties thrown carelessly over her shoulder; heaving out this soft, heady gasp. You: pushing inside of her for the very first time, both of your legs bracing, the heel of her foot pressed into the small of your back - but before you can convince yourself that she can't be talking about that, and just barely before the air gets stuck in the back of your throat and you realize that you might be so thoroughly, tragically fucked -

"Read this." A snap back into the here and now. She is looking at you very pointedly, not naked - but beautiful and perfect as she leans a bit into the table and crosses those lovely, lovely legs of hers, and tilts the copy of that awful, awful filth at you.

"Nana, respectfully, this is drivel," you say, immediately and plainly, listening to Nana laugh out loud as you glean more than you need to know from the info on the inside cover. "They've crossed like five major genre boundaries for a hook-up. Why should anyone bother?"

"Come on." She waves it off with a careless gesture of her hands. "There's plenty of things to like. Maybe you should give it a chance - broaden your horizons, teach. Besides - the sex scenes?" She rolls her shoulders with the same shrug you remember watching so carefully all those times she made her way, out of the hallways and back into that front-and-center-seat she was always occupying whenever the bell rang. "So filthy. I can show you one of my favorites."

"Doesn't really seem like appropriate reading material for -"

"You said it yourself," her voice has a bright, saccharine tone, just on the right side of strained. And between sips of that straw stuck in the purse of her pert, little mouth, she draws that next sentence - the ice cracking, thinning under your feet -

"Not my teacher anymore."

Nana smiles; this brash, cock-sure thing that reminds you, as you try to clear your throat of the nerves making a bed there: you are actually so, so fucking gone on her. So far gone it hurts, when, with a flourish and a bounce and a complete, reckless lack of discretion, she starts paging through the first chapters.

"Who says you can't study these kinds of stories on an academic level? Think about it: sex sells. Whoever ends up writing, it's a whole lot easier and a hell of a lot cheaper than trying to do it all yourself." She looks up, this mischievous twinkle in her eyes, as she angles her fingertips down on the book and opens it - page after page of very obviously poorly-written sex. You look, not even consciously.

But of course, her fingertips drift lower and lower along the pages until it's evident: she doesn't have an exact page in mind, but only a particular passage -

"Here. Let me show you, just one."

"Alright, fine," you start - trying for an effect of exasperation, something to mitigate this god awful throbbing, "whatever - you get one, one sample paragraph and I'll, you know, whatever."

"Yeah, you'll definitely see. Just trust me. Just the one."

She drums her long, gorgeous nails against the table, then eases back with a finger highlighting the text.

You're screening and scanning the words as she tells you about the heroine in the story: a pretty girl who comes down with a bad case of infatuation for her teacher - unrequited, of course. And then, into a passionate affair, of course; all the most raucous, explicit details laid out over the table for everyone else to hear. She says it is about as nonchalantly as though she had been reading you the daily weather forecast and not an elaborate metaphor for - and here, you stop her.

"He cums on her desk?"

"Fucking hot, right?" She nearly snorts and gestures you onward, her eyebrows jumping - go on, go on.

So, you skim along: a heavy rush of nausea (alongside another) pulsing down around your gut at the thought of actually doing such a thing, your ears going hot and your legs crossing on instinct. There's not so much a breath of hesitation as Nana, cool, unfazed, and utterly unaware of the uncomfortable churning of your stomach and the simultaneous thrumming in your cock, takes another deep swig of coffee.

She hums, thoughtful. "Honestly? Kinda wished it happened to me like that. You were a good, good teacher, professor. I wouldn't have minded your hands all over me." You hear her laugh, and the entire universe collapses like the end-days. You are struck down with feverish conviction: this girl is the worst.

"Anytime you wanted," she adds, so carelessly.

There's a clunking sound, of glass on wood; a half a second where you almost lose control over yourself.

“Nayeon,” you let slip, the old name - a mistake of an invitation she grasps like a weapon. All coming to a glint in her eye that says she knows how you see it, how you can still picture her sitting with her hands folded over the skirt of her uniform, chest rising and falling beneath her cotton shirt. Studious, taking notes, acting every bit the naive sweetheart everyone believed her to be.

You shudder out some pretense of composure and settle back a few inches as she continues to coax a reaction out of you, prodding: "how many girls did you make confess back then, hm? Did it ever do them any good?"

"Dial it back, Nana."

Her expression is all feigned, gentle surprise. "But sir," she looks at you so innocently, "you said I should drop the honorific."

You want to argue that, you also want to tell her off for being such a brat - to demand that, instead, she cut the shit, sit back, and remember who you both are, but when, with a wink and a smirk, she's getting up out of her seat, Nana sets a gentle, reassuring hand on your shoulder as she pushes her chair back beneath the table. You get onto your feet, and when the two of you are stood close together like this - she's really and truly that much smaller than you remember. Waist so tiny you think you could almost, almost wrap two hands all the way around her; skirt rising all too easily when she tosses her weight between her heels.

"I hope you know what you’re doing," you tell her, sternly - the voice of a teacher whose patience is running thin.

But no matter where you look, the consequences are dire and immediate: an abject fascination, a kind of debilitating greed; the absolute fucking loss of ability to look her directly in her eyes. Not like Nana isn't staring right through you. There's no doubt some part of her relishes the feeling.

"Hey, what do I know?" This sweet, demure-like chuckle follows. "It's just porn, right?”

Eventually, Nana says to call it a night because the sun's long set into the horizon and the chill starts getting at the both of you.

She tells you while you're packing up your belongings to come by again sometime, her voice teasing as she explains that you should pick out a new novel to read for your benefit.

Which is possibly the ideal outcome, all things considered, if it wasn't for the way she found herself in your hands just a few paces into the parking lot - no one around to catch you, where you're gripping fast onto her wrist and pressing the lines of her body into door of your car, looming and ready to give a piece of your mind.

You know what you ought to say - things like don't bother, you've enjoyed her company, she's fun and sweet, and in a dozen different ways: be a good girl, and go home. You had your fun, didn't you? But she's practically begging, those huge, wide doe eyes that stare straight up into your soul.

"C'mon,” her voice lilts into a deeper, more purposeful register, “you wouldn't turn down a student on her way home, would you?

(This fucking girl.)

She speaks of propriety, like you aren't a man of your own principles - like you aren't reaching down to press a kiss to the swell of her lips like she undoubtedly deserves. To lick into her mouth and pull and kiss and bite until she's trembling, teeth caught in a delicate whimper. Or, that you aren't running your hands down her sides to find the backs of her knees and draw them upward, hooking your hips flush against hers.

She's all too breathless, watching you draw off her lips, fingers fast in your shirt, your hair - holding you close.

Then finally, a true, honest reflection of your heart. Nothing less than sheer and utter capitulation: "let me take you home."

Nana just nods before wrapping her arms around your neck and kissing you again.

It's definitely on you for expecting anything different, but Nana fucks like she talks.

Conceited. Brash. A little selfish.

The girl's sitting there on her kitchen counter with one leg hooked over your shoulder. She's stripped herself down to near nothing save for those fuck-off ridiculous panties: slick, shiny with a thick strip of satin between her lips, complete with white lace frills and all; the same ridiculous pattern as the thigh-high stockings clinging tight around the soft-gentle fat of her legs and the lace top of her garter. Her pussy - all tight and pink and soaked - has left this shimmering, shiny mess that's trailing down the insides of her thighs.

Your fingers are in the elastic of her panties, near bruising the curve in her waist where she's rocking, flushed and keening against your grip.

You tell her, "take these off."

"Off?" She repeats it back to you with the same little grin: playing dumb, the smart, charming ass she's been all night.

"I'd tell you what I really want to do to you," you start, pushing your fingers in a little harder, eliciting another pretty moan. "But I'm really, really sure you can fill in the blanks yourself.

"I hope you're not planning on being rough with me," she teases, running her hands all through your hair as she pulls herself against you - and of course, it's her audacity to insist, "no marks." She drops a chaste little kiss along the underside of your jaw. "At least, nothing that might show up on a camera."

Someone with a little less baggage might have done just that. Might have jerked her panties down a couple inches further - ripped the cloth, exposed her even more. You might have followed the waistline further along the perfect round of her ass, found those dips and dimples that, maybe, no one else has ever gotten to explore. You may have grasped at the ends of her hair and gotten your fingers in her pussy without ceremony - driven Nana to the very brink of her climax just before palming two greedy handfuls of that ass - shoving yourself right there between her lips and, lost to shame, put a fucking kid in her.

All the things she must be dying for you to do.

"Something the matter?" She pushes her mouth into yours for a kiss that has all the urgency of a lazy Sunday morning. Your tongue against hers, languid and gentle at first; wet-sloppy, kissing and sucking on her bottom lip. You can feel her smirking when she says, "don't tell me you've forgotten how."

It's a lot, the effort you're putting in not to crumble - to crack at her taunts, snap your restraint, the temptation. You just wanna grab her pretty tits in both hands, shake her, and say: "shut the fuck up." But no - even in your wildest fantasy, you want to hear her first - beg you to make a wreck of her. So you force the words between your lips, dry and cracking:

"Not a fucking chance."

A laugh. "Guess I'm in good hands, then. Have to admit," Nana slides her hands down to hook under your own, bringing them lower. She grinds your fingers in slow circles over that one, aching, perfect little bud - a shock that has her curling tight inward until she's whining, clutching at her waist. "Not the - not the situation I had in mind."

Nana shifts her weight a bit more on one hip, guiding you through rubbing along the entrance to her slit - sloppy with precum, silky and aching - and when you place just the lightest pressure over all that hot skin, she opens her mouth:

"Ah."

Her eyes, her hair, her fucking mouth - you can’t look away - she’s so gorgeous it hurts.

Even the way she pants; the perfect furrow between her brows. And then, you dip a finger inside her, just to the first knuckle. It’s enough to make her whine, all shaky and high.

"Go on then, with how you’d pictured it," you press, already easing your digit in and out; slow, slick pumps that she is growing hotter, needier around. "I'm sure you've touched yourself to it more than a few times. The details and - stuff - must have been vivid."

"You haven't the slightest clue."

A brief kiss. You coax another shy sound from her, drawing a long sigh against her mouth -

"Try me, Nayeon."

"This is a lot closer to the truth than you’d think, professor." This time, no correction, she just smiles wide and tosses her head back, asking, sweetly, as if to absolve you of the responsibility. "Do you have any idea how long I've thought about it? You, me - us?"

Nana slips a finger between the buttons of your shirt and starts to pull.

On that detail, you actually, truthfully do not want to know.

"These... oh, how should I even call them." She hums softly just before easing a bit of distance between the two of you, head tilting like she's in a trailer for this summer's romcom, and not, you know, trying to drag you into hell. "Filthy little fantasies?"

"You know," you start. And by this point, her cunt's that much tighter. You've managed two fingers now, but no further, and she's making these desperate, punched-out gasps. Her clit's a swollen pink nub, jutting out from its soft hood. "I really had you pegged all wrong."

"Not - not at all. You can fuck me just fine, trust me - ah. Please, you can fuck me anyway you want."

And here, you grab a little higher on her hips, pinching her on the outside of a thigh, and begin working your fingers fast. You've never cared much for teasing, not really, but something about the way she squirms in your grip, tries to lean up and grasp onto your shoulders with shaking hands, it gets you smiling. It gets you grinning, even, especially the way she makes these pretty noises: a long, desperate little, "ah," at each press and thrust, her breath going high and uneven.

"Listen, Nana -" She squeals out loud when you push your fingers just a little deeper, a little bit harder. "I'm not going to talk about what a slut you've been today or how badly I want to spread you wide open," you can already tell it's affecting her: the sudden change, the subtle hitch in her breathing, the tremor where her thighs press together. "Tell me about you, about your little ideas. Let me help."

"Wouldn't be fair." Her pussy's getting tighter, urgent with want. And still:

"C'mon now. Humor me a little. There was probably-" you say, sliding down that ridiculous pair of underwear along her ass, tugging them over the curves of her legs - so slow and easy, all while you're not bothering with easing off. Nana moans again; voice pitched. "Lots. Lots and lots of dirty things - and, I'm willing to bet my career that they made you a hot, mess - an awful, soaking fucking wreck. Who could've guessed? You, of all people, with just the right kind of teacher's-pet-appeal, hm?"

And you meant it to be a joke, just some ribbing. But the question has her immediately tensing, looking at you very intently, no trace of shame as she snaps back -

"Your mouth." She rocks forward. "Your fucking mouth."

You shouldn't keep touching her, you shouldn't keep staring, you shouldn't push her flat on her back and shove your face right into her cunt, you should pull away before this goes too far - it shouldn't be your fingers drawing out sopping-wet gasps out of her pussy, nor should you press your tongue to her cunt, your mouth to all that delicate flesh and, at your first taste, shiver.

Nana laughs: shaky, nervous. Then, your fingers sink back into her pussy alongside your tongue, your lips, the way even your hot breath against her aching pussy has her all stunned, breathless - and -

"Please."

- right before she breaks off into a beautiful sound that catches her hard in the chest.

(A sound like you’re all she could ever want in this life, maybe the next; it’s this wordless plea.)

"Hah, I had - ah, had so much - hah - dirt on you, used to masturbate thinking - ah," and there, she arches her spine, forcing a sigh out, "thinking about how you might punish me." She laughs - nearly choking. "How you might break down all your veneer of being a good, moral man and fuck me raw and rough and - ah - fuck. Oh god, fuck."

You twist your fingertips up just so, right against this perfect spot in her, and all the sudden the entire line of her body seizes - stiffens up, the muscles in her thighs twitch as you both moan through the moment, the spasms reverberating in your own ears, loud and unashamed, right against her wet, wet clit. Your fingers are fucking and fucking and fucking away in her cunt, harder and faster and sloppier, every word, every groan, every gasped breath only making it easier to forget. To give in. And with every heavy slap and squelch of your fingertips digging in as deep as her body allows - you're sending her that much closer.

You pull back long enough to bite out: "cum whenever you want, Nana.”

She can’t, she can’t, she can’t, is what she’s trying to say, bracing against how your tongue moves around her clit, and she knows, there’s no use fighting it.

A kiss against her swollen mound and she writhes. “There you go sweetheart, cum for me.”

Nana comes undone. Gradually at first, then vaulting over that edge all at once. She lifts and lowers her hips - pushing your fingers into the smooth, velvety muscles of her cunt; rocking up and up again. It's a torturously slow kind of grinding, and her feet find purchase on either side of you as her toes curl, one heel digging into your shoulder. An assurance; a promise; a lifeline; that she might tremble and shake through it, moaning.

“Fuck,” and, “god,” and, “you’re gonna make me-” slip past her lips alongside all the assured gasped-out cries for relief - the orgasm sweeping through her, tearing her apart.

Back pitching, shoulders narrowing, face twisting, cinching tighter and tighter -

Until she collapses.

Until it’s over.

As she lays there, chest heaving, arm draped carelessly across her forehead and half over a kitchen cutting board - her thighs splayed open, fucked and spent - she's so, so beautiful.

And it’s in that sort of fucked-up-noodly-state where she just slides right into your arms - those long, slender legs wrapping tight around your middle. "Here's the deal," you say, grabbing hold of her hips and steadying her, as best as either of you can.

"Hm." This lazy, sated look, the way her tongue's dragged out - slow and slick - across the top of her teeth and bottom of her lips. "Go ahead, sir. I'm listening."

The lip service - that coy little appeal to authority that maybe you’re actually plenty fond of - it makes you stop for the barest of moments. This girl, she's unreal. How hard could you ever be asked to resist her?

She lifts a brow. "Professor."

So you continue:

"I'm going to get out of these clothes, and we are going to see what happens after that - if you have a preference for the bed or the sofa, now's your chance to pipe up. Or else -"

"Or else-" She repeats, shifting her weight around again. You can feel how she adjusts her heels to hang higher up your ribs, rocking her weight against your abdomen, against your cock - and the instinctual twitch that runs through your spine is turgid and rough. Like a shot. If it had a smell, it'd probably remind you of gasoline.

And then, maybe just to rile you up even more: "the dining room table makes a good impression of a teacher's desk, no?"

You slide your hand along the backs of her thighs until you have a good, tight, high hold on them and pick her up, leaving the panties, the stockings, all of it down where they can gather dust or whatever - she giggles, and tightens her hold around you like she doesn't need to worry about falling.

"I'd rather fuck you into a mattress to be perfectly candid."

Nana throws back her head and laughs - this real, honest-to-goodness peal of laughter, a hint of playfulness where there was usually just a practiced ease. "Oh. So forward."

(In all likelihood, you're both going to hell, and on the off chance you meet down there, you figure you'll fuck her then, too.

You've read the myths, the Greek tragedies, the ones that have these gods descending from the heavens on human women, for pleasure and nothing but, you've read those stories and plenty more - the details don't matter: it's always a bad, bad end for everybody involved.)

She takes you upstairs. And the two of you fall through the doorway to her bedroom, stumbling all the way.

Her apartment is simple and clean in the way all young adults try to emulate, all white countertops, but with pictures hanging in little, neat rows on the walls and the space void of anything with some sort of character or history.

You know because you're fumbling toward a dresser or desk or bookshelf in an attempt to orient yourselves, bumping and tussling, half-blind, on your path forward and all of a sudden there's a goddamn framed photo in your hand - not of her family, thank god. Though just about every other person in the picture is familiar to you, you remember every single one - but all you're capable of focusing on is Nana, Nayeon: not quite the same. The same glint in her eyes, the way her smile has a timeless kind of quality, the faint dimples in her cheeks.

And some wicked part of you is all too willing to ignore the whole timeline of events that has led up to you, Nana, like this: you want to pull her hair. You want to shove her around like she doesn't matter - is in any way disposable or replaceable; the most selfish parts of you wishing you could keep her pinned down by her slender neck; pressing a palm, bruising, into her collarbone as you start to work at your belt buckle and slacks with your other hand.

It's hard, getting a grip on yourself as Nana, sliding onto her bed and rolling across the sheets, pulls her stockings down the length of her legs - only stopping herself long enough to meet your eyes. Her throat bobbing.

“Of course,” she says, because your cock is hanging out by that point, straining and a little pent-up. "I fucking knew you would have a perfect cock."

"Flattery or sincerity?"

"Um, let's say both." She shifts around the pillow - that sweet little pout on her lips. Her gaze dropping from your mouth and running all along the length of your torso, lower and lower. Like her hands. And when her eyes flick up to meet yours, just when you're stroking at your cock, base and shaft, teasing yourself, well past the point of pretense, a devious smile spreads wide across her pretty, beautiful face. The implication: you aren't leaving here until you're cumming inside her.

And with a glimmer in her eyes, the sheer audacity, her fingertips ghost the underside of your cock as she draws up toward the head, "you're going to ruin me with this thing. You know that right?"

"A bit dramatic."

Nana moves to rest with the tops of her knees at the edge, her chin resting against the insides of her wrists, elbows propped up - poised, playful, everything she should be as the both of you regard each other a moment longer. "Can you blame me? It's not just that it's huge, I mean - I've barely even gotten a hold of it, and yet... god," she snorts. Her eyelids are heavy, mouth curved, almost a snarl as she drags her bottom lip through the grip of her teeth and sinks down onto the mattress.

"Say something filthy again," and this is a test, this is Nana testing you to see what exactly you'll get away with.

(Hint: it's a whole lot.)

She sighs. The image of indigence, innocence, everything pure and good you couldn't hope for. "Should I suck it or not? Or maybe, I don't know. Would you prefer me to beg for it first, ask if you'll put it in? Like, I think if you ordered me to put it in my mouth, right now, I wouldn't be able to say no."

"Really," the most sarcastic answer.

"Really," she continues. "For instance. If you came over here right now and guided me up and onto your dick and told me, specifically, that you were going to face-fuck me? I couldn't say no. No sir."

You could have her any damn way. You could have her, and you both know it.

"So tempting," you tease, mostly in earnest, "maybe another time, when my self-control isn't quite so lacking."

Nana hums a low, flippant sort of noise - like: whenever you're ready - and just how much trouble it gets you in, the mere suggestion, is what she is banking on.

"Hey," is her invitation, "I won't beg yet. You still want me to put my mouth all over it," and to emphasize, she slips her fingers between the plump pillows of her lips, smiling at how that makes you reach over the nightstand, accidentally pulling open a drawer, possibly reaching for the first aid kit, "or would you rather watch me stuff all these fingers in my wet, little hole."

A sharp inhale: it really would be fun, probably, but you can't take it.

"Nana," this voice, gravelly-ragged and harsh, "if you're planning to make me snap, you are, without question, on the right track."

"Then before that happens," she says, pulling you down into the bedsheets beside her. Your body flush against hers, the beat of her heart loud against your own; this gorgeous, pristine girl, so nakedly giving - this is an honor and a curse all rolled up together, no doubt.

And after a hot, wet kiss: "fuck me like I always thought you would."

(She was made to be like this; it's the only explanation.

Made for wanting. Made for fucking. Made to be loved and made to have her cunt fucked full - ruined by your fingers, your tongue, your cock. This absolutely perfect body, and all the delicious parts of her; this thing of desire, bashful and coy and that deserves all the world and, having none of the grace or courtesy to actually beg, orders, like she always knew she could:

"Like, right fucking now."

Or else.)

Then you're there - her hot mouth, her cunt, your fingers digging in bruising-tight all along the curve of her thighs where they meet her ass, hips, thighs, waist. She's pumping her soft palm and delicate fingers, slick with her spit and yours around the length of you and this isn't going to last long; not that there's any doubt you're going to leave her sore. But still, you drag the head of your cock across the swollen lips of her pussy, down through the plump swell of her clit until it rests where the ridge just begins and every slide, every pressure along every inch of your cock, the thought of being enveloped entirely in all that silky warmth is nearly the end of you.

A whimper, "professor."

You wrap your hands tighter around the smooth, firm muscles in her thighs; dragging your fingers back and forth across the supple skin there - just firm enough to elicit a reaction from the tension in her legs, until you have her flipped over on her stomach. Because if you're going to fuck her properly, it's going to be with her face buried deep into a pillowcase and you perched above her, holding her down against the sheets.

You watch her get her elbows underneath her, laying almost flat. Watch her trace the shape of her own jaw, her nose, her neck - the smooth expanse of her chest - as you straddle her thighs. With her ass pointed right up at you and the heel of her ankle gently grinding into the underside of your leg, you groan, placing both hands just above her ass. And once you're gripping the whole shape of her, you push your cock into her, just an inch, listening to the shift in her breathing.

She shudders, "don't tease - oh, please, sir-"

"Is this what you expected, Nana?" You grab onto her hair. Then again, when she tries to get her hands on herself. Her shoulders are high, tight. You just don't give her a chance; pushing yourself another inch, a couple. The pace, so gradual she starts making these soft, little breathless sounds as you stretch her tight pussy open. A few moments when she stops trying to bury her noises, her gasps - stops trying to angle her hips or squeeze or resist the thick shape of your cock where it is so, so hot and full inside of her - and there you stop. "What is it you had in mind, hm?"

"Ngh - oh."

Her cunt's clamping tight around just the first few inches of you. The tightness, the wet heat is staggering; how it pulls and begs with the words she seems reluctant to spill out.

So - you lift a hand, bringing it back down again onto the pale, rounded flesh of her ass with a smack, a gasp, and this wet sound from the sopping heat of her pussy, all aching and sobbing, "don't, fuck, stick it - fuck, put it - just. Just fucking get on top of me and pin me down - make it hard for me to breathe - do it, just. Like I, fuck, like I always wanted, sir, please-"

And you sink all the way in.

"Fuck." She bites into those consonants, a whole-body motion that pulls at the tension in her spine, the muscles in her legs. But her hips angle right up, and she presses her ass into the hollow of your abdomen and says, "thank you. Thank you. God."

"Don't get lazy on me," you say, grinding the tip of your cock in little circles; pulling it out and angling it down until it's prodding at all the right places to make her arch and shiver.

"Please," she says again, louder this time, almost a moan. "That. Fuck. Yes. It's."

"Yes, yes, I know. Nana, you-"

"Just use me. Whatever you like," she pants; then, once you've pulled yourself out to the tip, slowly filling her again, "use me like a fucktoy, alright. Because - fuck," Nana shivers, pushing her hips into yours. Her shoulders lower, as if by degrees, "please. Use me. Make it rough. Please, professor - use me however you want, I don't care - anything's fine with me - use me, as long and as much as you need, I. Please."

The real difference here, beyond anything else, is that this is no longer the game it was; the very instant she was sprawled across the mattress with a line of drool dripping into the sheets, all her bright, polished glory has vanished, leaving this bare edge of her exposed - the girl who lives solely to be fucked and used by your cock, her cunt leaking, begging for more. Reduced to the basics and nothing else.

"Your fucking cunt, Nana, the goddamn clench - you feel - it's-" (So fucking good, is what you can’t quite say, because she’s tight and wet and her tiny pussy is quivering like mad every time you bathe your cock in its scorching heat. Over and over.) It’s hard to think; you’re truly - truly - fucking her, but you can’t ignore the tautness in her spine either, bent below you. There are probably tears beading down her cheeks, but there's no helping the raw instinct screaming through the core of her being, pleading with you to pull yourself free, before sinking hilt-deep into her again, again, again - to a chorus of sloppy, loud, nasty, fucking whimpers and moans.

Like music.

It's easy after all, how her pussy gives way to you. How she molds around you - sleeves onto you like a glove - like there was only one cunt in the world you should ever be fucking up and fucking apart.

"It's incredible. Fuck. Just that perfect."

Nana, as best as she can, trying to stay steady, braced against her hands and knees, is raising her hips.

But it's clear with the way she's slipping all over, slicking the sweat off her palms and rocking her ass back into your thrusts, a cry falling out of her, unbidden, when she speaks and not.

"Please," she pants, through tears probably, this breathy-shivering. A renewed enthusiasm for your grip on her - where, in another place, you'd worry about leaving marks behind - for the feeling of your weight slamming down into her, driving the air from her lungs.

The sheets are a crumpled mess, pillows knocked from the mattress, where the two of you are shaking it apart.

You're pulling her apart, slowly, thrust by thrust into her sopping cunt, and in a promise of how you'll put her back together, you get your mouth on her shoulders, her neck, kisses in her hair, behind her ear - Nana just whimpers, curling her toes and ankles along the backs of your knees, her face against the pillow and gasping, "thank you - thank - thank-"

And when your palm smacks against the generous swell of her ass, again, she keens so perfectly for you.

It's a breathtaking sight, so good, so perfect: her flawless ass pitched high, round and flushed pink. The flutter of her eyelashes and the tears and drool. The outlines of her pale white cheeks sent into ripple after ripple, and then the way you can slide one hand forward between her shoulder blades and slip it into her hair, nails raking her scalp, grabbing a handful of hair in your fist and tilting her face - to the side, enough for her cheek against the pillow and the way her hips try to press against yours; try to chase the pleasure; this brash, gorgeous, slim-waisted, well-curved, exquisite young woman - like everything.

"Please," is all she says as you fit your chest up tight to her back and mouth at her neck - lick all along the sweat. "Please."

You can't take it anymore, can't keep watching this masterpiece, can't stand the molten heat wrapped around your cock every time the drag in and out of her pussy pulls sets every nerve on fire. Right in her ear: "I'm cumming, Nana, I'm cumming inside this tight, little pussy."

A short gasp, "yeah."

"Yeah. Inside, Nana. Cum inside, you -" You twist your fingers against her scalp and find purchase, an excuse - a means to yank her head around and lean into her, teeth against skin, that familiar coiling in your gut and the burning sensation that flows right alongside every slap and smack of her hips on your skin.

"Fuck me." You watch her bite down, swallow a sound, try to say: "fuck your load so deep inside me it’ll be all I think about for weeks, let me feel it, all that hot, all that sticky, fucking cum"

And you drag your hips, these final, punishing drags through her drenched cunt. Her fingers are white knuckled and fisting the sheets, until the very second you've pressed every ounce of your own body's worth into her own, when you're collapsing her spine and pushing her face into the bedspread, this wave rushes through your ears like the buzz and hum of insects and waves and things out of sync - the high, the peak -

And then:

Sobering, subjugating silence.

In fact, you're shuddering; You're cumming, spilling pools of thick cum deep inside of her. It's all in that warm, filthy sensation, a heady, hazy, desperate thrill when her own cunt seizes in its climax around you, trembling, throbbing, quivering, clenching; drawing everything out and taking your cock deeper - even while the whole of her is thrashing and bucking, all of this messy with her pleasure and her voice caught up, writhing and breathless.

"God-" is the last thing out of her mouth before you can kiss it quiet, tug on her lower lip and open her up like a present - messy and breathy, crying out, you're making this mess inside, this beautiful fucking mess - as the whisper you feel against your lips:

"Inside me, like that."

As you groan, deep and hot, "filthy fucking cumslut-"

Right on the verge, riding out every twitch of your cock and each flex of your hands at the skin around her ass, her waist, back and shoulder blades; even after you've caught your breath, you keep pumping more and more inside of her, you don't stop, won't, and even when you manage it, pulling out the head of your cock - you can feel every slick detail - just the slit and rim, resting the throbbing head of your cock at her swollen little mound, feeling the length of her fucked-out pussy spasm at the emptiness and trying to grasp around nothing - empty, tight and aching, sopping.

There's her hips, just this, right there; the line, the silhouette. Her thin waist and the curvy swell of her ass, jutting out straight - the cream-colored flesh dusted pink. The lithe, soft line of her stomach and the insides of her thighs a little farther along, sweaty and inviting.

She's so pliant in your grip, even though she's trying her best to curl herself backward - to angle your spent cock back into the ready, welcoming warmth of her slick, wet pussy - and once the afterglow has begun to wear away, that same greed and yearning takes its rightful place. A glimmer in her eyes. The unmistakable need and drive.

"One more," she says, wiggling her hips back into your stomach. "For me."

(The truth: you can't refuse her, not as she bites her lip and twists, all that soft hair splayed across her face, stuck to her tear-damp skin.

One more, because you both still want it. One more, because in the dim glow and evening air of her bedroom, everything that happens now matters just as much as anything that happened before.

One more, because you need her again.)

When she wakes in the dark, you figure her bed will be empty.

Nana will realize that you're gone. Of course you’ll be - it was never going to go differently; the sex had to end at some point. After all, if you stayed, eventually she'd start saying something you'd find a fault in or your skin would be so sensitive she couldn't stand not running a finger up your spine and maybe kissing your hip.

The reasons to go always outnumbered the reasons to stay.

The world would catch up and someone would find out and that's the sort of gossip that might leave both of your careers in shambles. Or else, you'd do something you couldn't come back from, the moment the heat of the sex left your body and her cunt, god, her perfect little cunt was spent - slackening - and the moments-after-haze, her legs locked up and her arms a bit sore, would clear up. Then you'd look at her, or else the shame would win out - the guilt and you'd call it quits. She won’t blame you. She can't.

But then again,

Her heart won't fall completely to pieces, because:

You've stayed. And it isn't an easy position, even if she is easy.

Here she is, though: sleeping on her side with her wrists crossed in front of her face - peaceful and quiet, probably tired enough to sleep without dreams. The dark has long since settled across her bedroom, save the pinpricks of stars in the sky out her window and a sliver of moonlight. You can see her, or you could reach out and run your hands all along her calves and thighs, but you don't.

Nana's shoulders slump forward in the faintest of sighs, and there it is - the slow, gentle swell and fall of her chest.

Here's how you got here:

In this scandal-in-waiting of a relationship. Here's the stupidest possible path, where a bright-eyed student with a crush fucks her older professor just once, and somehow you both find yourselves coming back for more, like maybe your very, very bodies belong together - a maddening compulsion.

Even once you've managed to work through the idea of your cum all inside of her, a seedy, twisted corner of your mind murmurs how it makes the most sense. To stick your cock inside of her again.

Where she can show you the way it can look; the mess and the texture of the slick, white spill - dribbling out of her pussy in the afterglow, onto her palm, and down the crevice in her ass and lower.

It's the phone calls probably - and not just the phone sex - late-night talking, conversation and every once in awhile, the kind of hot, hard fucking that gets you in trouble, but also a reason to be with each other again. Not just the quick fucks but the nice ones - the days, the late nights and mornings and what have you: all the casual intimacy of it. All the sweet nothings exchanged.

The after-sex cuddling, with her straddling your lap;

The sensation of her thighs sliding into place around the tops of your legs, her arms tucked around your neck;

The kisses you don't take and kisses you'd be okay with, all the promises made to love you as many times as necessary, however necessary, wherever.

That's all here too.

Again:

She is young. But, who the fuck are you to say? Who the hell can tell you she doesn't deserve the least rotten, least painful, most promising love she can find in this particularly fucked-up world?

Who else is going to keep the both of you safe and hidden?

And who else, despite everything, seems to like having a secret that they're sure only you know; every glance or accidental touch with her eyes brimming, alive, and the whole of her bent like a bow-string - all held back and wound-up tight.

To the point her spine will shiver and shake; you know how it can be.

"Are you actually going to buy those?" Nana asks one day, dangling on her toes, chin rested comfortably in the sweep of your shoulder.

When she crowds the swell of her hip and her breasts and her entire body into your back and snakes her arms around your shoulders, you think there's nothing else in the world you need.

"You called them drivel," she adds, almost pouting - which is a look you're slowly trying to inoculate yourself against because the moment it comes up, you have a knee-jerk reaction to drop anything and everything and carry her off someplace else. To have a place where she could, could, could -

"Hah," you roll your eyes, not taking the bait. There's a shelf-full of campy, smutty romance novels in the dollar bin. "It is. The story was less than complicated, but I couldn't figure out what the hell two or three characters' plotlines had to do with one another, and sometimes you just want a little guilty pleasure, you know?"

"Ooh. So," Nana smiles, the devious sort. "I guess there is some honesty in you after all."

"Come on, this one at least has an original story," and it is a shameless attempt, "plus-"

"I know, I know. Fine. And if it is so terribly bad, well, I suppose I can use your chest as a pillow to take a nap," she says, before throwing this particular glance over her shoulder.

The cashier doesn't need to ask if the two of you want your copies of 'Wild West of the Heart' or whatever-the-fuck this one is titled, scanned separately.

All of that, those paperback-cover love stories and TV drama plots, these are the sorts of things you do just for Nana; as the two of you wait in long lines, get carried along, get bumped and pushed, like every other ordinary-person thing you've done for her ever since.

("Honestly, this isn't my kind of thing either," you tell her in the aisle of a grocery store once. The fluorescent lighting only accentuates the blush high on her cheeks. "don't make me fuss over something like this."

"Have a little sympathy," she insists, nudging the handle of the shopping cart against the inside of your shins. "A girl like me isn't good for much else.")

It's not romance, really, that's such a fucked up way to go about describing any of it, but then there's Nana, bouncing on her heels and prattling on, this girl in the spring of her life who is full to the brim and bursting with the most chaotic and eclectic sorts of thoughts and passions -

So, what.

"Really," she adds - another side, another angle on an issue the two of you had an hour ago while cooking breakfast. "Just, think about it. Would you honestly put all this effort into somebody who doesn't make you laugh at least as much as they irritate you? Because like, you would never tolerate some self-obsessed jerk long enough to eat their burnt, terrible pancakes every day of the week."

"Fine. Maybe." You sit across the table. "You're right."

Nana blinks and this look of wonder crosses her face as she grins. A moment of triumph for her and that was more than the honest truth. It's still strange, admitting defeat in any argument here or there, or that the two of you make an actual decent couple - together. The kinds of things that come naturally to other people.

"Any more caveats to all of this, professor?"

"You’re gonna end up bent over that counter again if you keep pushing it, kid."

The both of you break out laughing and then you finish your coffee, or she stabs the last few pieces of cantaloupe on her plate, or you kiss her neck, and just -

Everything.

#wooah smut #nana smut #kwon nayeon smut #el7z up smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember #woo ah smut #woo ah nana smut

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disneyprincemuke · 1 month

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the valentine's tradition (2016-2025) * fem!driver

notes: this is supposed to go all the way to 2028 but i got lazy so lMFAOOOOOO

2016

“no, that’s so stupid,” she mutters, turning to the boy next to her, hand in the air with a spoon in his mouth. logan looks at her from the corner of his eyes with raised eyebrows and turns to her. “rocky road with extra marshmallows? seriously?”

logan hums and reaches out his bowl towards her along with his spoon. “try it. it’s not bad.”

she furrows her eyebrows and stares at him with skepticism. logan urges her to take the bowl from him and leans back on the arm of the couch behind him. “it’s just so stupid. rocky road already has marshmallows.”

“just try it, fussy eater,” logan scoffs, taking it upon himself to scoop ice cream out for her with a couple extra marshmallows. “trust me. it’s good.”

she hums and hesitantly leans in towards the spoon. she glances at logan. “you’re sure?”

logan nods, lips pursed. “when have i ever disappointed you when it came to food?”

“a couple times,” she mutters, slowly inching in as she maintains her gaze at logan. “american food is not as good as you said it was, logan.”

“eat the ice cream before it gets on the couch!”

she whines and leans in to eat the ice cream. and instantly, it’s like something clicked in her head. who knew that chocolate ice cream with extra marshmallows would taste so good? she grabs logan’s shoulder. “where’s the marshmallows?”

“shelf above the microwave. you like it?” logan raises his eyebrows.

she doesn’t spare him an answer, scrambling off the couch to jog towards the kitchen. as she enters the kitchen, oscar passes the determined girl and tilts his head. “is she okay?”

“she likes the rocky road with marshmallows,” logan mutters with a grin. he pushes himself upright when oscar approaches, hands out to aid oscar with the plates on the coffee table. “what snacks did you prepare?”

“snacks?” oscar snorts. “i made dinner for us. i’m hungry. made pasta.” he wipes his hands on his sweatpants as he turns to the tv. “what are we watching tonight?”

logan huffs. “10 things i hate about you. something about it being valentine’s day she was rambling about.”

oscar shrugs and takes the seat on the other end of the couch. “yeah, okay.”

the girl comes back out, prancing with a bowl of ice cream in her hands. “this ice cream combination is great, logan. i’m stealing it.”

2017

“alright, what are we watching?” oscar hums, dropping himself on the couch, squeezing himself between her and logan. “i made popcorn.”

she groans and shuffles away from oscar, whining as she drags her leg from under his generally larger stature. “i chose he’s just not that into you.”

logan throws his head back with a soft whine and scratches his head. “are you serious? you couldn’t have picked something else?”

“no, we have to watch romcoms movies every valentine’s day. duh?” she rolls her eyes. “it’s the day’s right. it’s literally what the day was made for. ice cream, popcorn and a silly little movie with my 2 stupid friends.”

oscar turns to her, his glare boring holes into her as she bubbles up into a giggle. “keep that up and you’ll be watching the movie by yourself.”

“i’m kidding,” she scoffs with a playful eye roll. she slides down the couch slightly and rests her head on oscar’s arm as logan grabs the tv remote. “do you guys think we’re too single?”

there’s a moment of silence. “what?”

“it’s valentine’s day and we’re in our living room watching a romantic movie,” she mutters, reaching over to grab a handful of popcorn. “we’ll be fine, right? this is healthy.”

logan leans forward to look over at her. “we’re literally just watching a movie, mate.”

“i’m just making sure.”

2018

“i’m here! i’m not late, right?” the door swings open, the young girl’s heels clicking along the floor before the door slams shut behind her. “i’m not late.”

logan, from one side of the couch, looks over to where she’s tearing her heels off. “you’re just in time, actually. we were just about to start.”

“wow, without me?” she frowns, struggling slightly to tear her jacket from her arms. “what are we watching tonight?”

“how to lose a guy in 10 days,” oscar says softly yet monotonously. “i made dinner. it’s on the table. i wasn’t sure if what’s-his-face fed you dinner or not.”

“oh, come on,” she sighs, making a beeline for the couch where her friends are sitting. she stands and towers over them with her hands on her hips. “you’re not seriously still mad, are you? i made it home on time.”

oscar looks up at her. “just sit down. we’re watching a damn movie.”

she looks at logan and throws her arms in the air. “he’s still mad at me, isn’t he? talk to him, logan!”

logan turns his head back to the tv screen and shakes his head. “keep me out of this. i woke up at 4pm today and the only reason i got out of bed was because oscar and i had to get snacks from the store.”

“oscar, don’t stay mad at me!” she looks back at oscar. “i made it home for the valentine’s movie night. you can’t be mad.”

“you almost didn’t make it home in time,” oscar deadpans. “get your dinner and come sit so we can start the movie. i made pasta specifically for you.”

she smiles and walks away. “i knew you wouldn’t stay mad at me for long. you love me too much.”

“just shut up and join us here.”

2019

“i’m home!” oscar shouts, stumbling through the front door only to find the living room empty. he stands up a little straighter and tilts his head. “no one’s home yet. i won.”

the girl pops out of the kitchen, a bowl of popcorn in her hands as she saunters in her pyjamas. “no, you didn’t. i’ve been home all day.”

oscar furrows his eyebrows as he takes his shoes off. “i thought you had a valentine’s date in the afternoon today.”

she presses her lips together and shakes her head, hunching to put the popcorn bowl down on the coffee table. “nope. cancelled.”

she turns back around and heads right for the kitchen. oscar hums in confusion as he walks further into the house. “you didn’t tell us it got cancelled. we could have made it home a little earlier for you.”

“it’s okay,” she laughs, reappearing out with three glasses and a bottle of vodka in her arms. “i spent time with dalton at the park.”

the front door opens again, revealing logan with a heaving chest and head thrown back slightly. he opens his mouth to say something and immediately closes it when he meets oscar’s eyes by the couch. he slumps his shoulders, “oh, you guys are already home.”

“she never even left,” oscar shrugs.

“you didn’t go on your date?” logan repeats in urgency, quickly kicking his shoes off and walking over to her. “why didn’t you call us? we could have come home.”

she furrows her eyebrows. “it’s really not that serious. he cancelled so i went out with dalton.”

logan shakes his head. “you still should have told us earlier instead of now.” he looks at the tv. “what are we watching?”

“easy a!” she grins excitedly. “could you guys get the sprite? i couldn’t reach it — mum’s put it on the top shelf to make sure i couldn’t get a hold of it all day.”

“sure?” logan hums, walking past them. “tell us earlier next time, okay? we could have spent time with you.”

2020

“i’m so glad you could join us this year,” she grins, throwing her head back as the door opens. “lily, i saved you a spot next to me.”

“oh! thank you!” lily grins, immediately leaving oscar at the door and approaches the girl cozied up under a blanket. “we brought popcorn and some wantons you like from that one chinese restaurant.”

“aw, thank you so much!” she squeaks, pouting her bottom lip out. she scrambles from her position on the couch and moves over, patting the spot next to her for lily to occupy. “we’re watching 50 first dates tonight.”

“what? why?” oscar frowns as he closes the door behind him. “did logan choose the movie? he’s been asking to watch that again forever.”

“it’s a fun movie,” she shrugs. “logan’s gone out to get the drinks. i prepared dinner.”

oscar hums. “did you?”

she shakes her head immediately. “blythe prepared dinner. where did you guys go for your date?”

“we went to the amusement park,” lily grins, “he won me a bear.”

“wow, i didn’t realise you were good like that, mate,” she teases, watching as oscar takes his place on the other couch. “was it cute?”

“it is,” lily grins. “what did blythe make for dinner? can i have some?”

“of course. it’s in the kitchen,” she mutters, tapping away on her phone. “made some filipino food for dinner. adobo, i think.”

oscar gets up from the couch. “i love adobo. let me get some.”

the door opens again. “didn’t have mojito mix, so we’re gonna have to make it from scratch. got everything from the grocery, though,” logan announces. “are oscar and lily here? why is there a huge bear sat in your passenger seat? i swear i almost had a heart attack thinking it was either of you.”

“they went to the amusement park for their date earlier,” she answers. “you’re making the mojito, yeah?”

logan makes a sharp turn towards the kitchen. “i wouldn’t trust you to make it, so duh.”

2021

“we’re here!”

oscar drops himself from the couch, leaving lily laid back on it. he scrambles to his feet. “what are you idiots doing here?”

her and logan, now at the dining table, turn to stare at him blankly. “it’s valentine’s day.”

“we agreed that you come over at 7!” oscar glances at the clock. “it’s 6.15!”

the young girl, without looking, shrugs before she pads towards the kitchen of oscar’s new apartment. “logan had the great idea of making dinner instead of ordering in. blythe taught him how to cook this yummy indonesian food — we texted you we were going to be here early, mate.”

“what?” oscar sighs hopelessly, resting on his knees as he reaches for his phone that’s strewn on the carpet. sure enough, there’s a text from her letting him know that they’re on their way to his apartment. “you should have called if i wasn’t texting you, mate.”

logan shrugs. “what are we watching tonight?”

“set it up,” lily finally speaks, flipping herself on the couch to get a look at logan. she smiles, hair disheveled with a small smile. “the one with zoey deutch and glen powell.”

“oh, i love zoey!” she pops out of the kitchen with a wide grin. “i heard that movie’s really good.”

oscar throws his head back with the shake of his head. “seriously. you guys have got to stop barging into our apartment. it’s not fair; we never do that to you.”

“we’ve only done it twice,” logan scowls.

oscar huffs. “we’ve only lived here for 2 weeks.”

“potato, potato,” the girl rolls her eyes. “come on, make dinner before i start making it.”

2022

“for the love of god, logan!” she shrieks, smacking logan on the shoulder lightly. she steps back as she watches the glass shatter upon contact with the ground.

there’s a silence that takes them over before they simultaneously lift their heads to meet eyes.

logan drops his head again. “i’m so sorry.”

“you had one job, mate,” she cries, throwing her head back. “i told you i was going to pour the drink in now!”

“clearly was not paying attention,” logan frowns, lifting his eyes once more. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to.”

she sighs before crouching down to pick up the pieces from the ground. “good thing i bought an extra glass.”

“good thing you didn’t listen to me when i asked you to just get 2 since oscar isn’t spending the evening with us,” logan snorts, rolling his eyes. he joins her on the ground and starts picking up the pieces of the broken wine glass. “who’s picking the movie tonight?”

“i picked the movie tonight,” she mutters with a soft sigh. “confessions of a shopaholic.”

“well, it just sucks oscar’s not here with us this year.” logan stands up and looks down at the girl. “stay here. i’ll sweep everything up and we can continue making drinks.”

2023

she lies back down, deadpanning into the camera of her ipad. “i’m actually going to hang up.”

“don’t,” logan scoffs with an eye roll. “i just don’t feel like drinking tonight!”

“how are we supposed to enjoy a stupid, cringe romcom if you’re not drinking? you’re just going to shit on it and be a hater.”

“she’s right,” oscar speaks with a small scowl. “i can’t believe you’re not sticking to tradition, lo.”

logan throws his arms in the air. “my car launch is tomorrow. i literally cannot show up hungover.”

the girl rolls her eyes. “so you’re saying it’s your team’s fault for launching their car the day after valentine’s day, then?”

“i did not even say that!” logan grabs the screen of his laptop. “first day on the job in front of the public — i can’t come in with a headache and looking a mess.”

“says you,” she mutters, shrugging. “what are we watching tonight?”

oscar nods. “i thought you were choosing the movie.”

she tilts her head, slowly shaking it as she tries raking her brain as to when they’d agreed to that. “no, i thought logan was choosing a movie.”

logan raises his eyebrows. “we literally never agreed to that.”

she sighs, eyes closing in frustration. “you’re telling me that we hopped into this call for nothing since nobody’s prepared a movie for us to watch?”

“should we just hang up and get a good night’s sleep then?” logan suggests with a small smile. “we meet in a couple of days anyway in bahrain. surely cupid won’t mind that we skip one valentine’s day, right?”

“how about just at least one episode of something?” she begs, batting her eyelashes. “it’s valentine’s day and we’re not even gonna watch anything at all?”

“fine. but one episode. i have an early day tomorrow.”

2024

“remind me why you’re not with logan again today?” mick lifts an eyebrow as she takes the bouquet of flowers into her hands. “don’t you guys usually spend valentine’s together?”

she purses her lips and grazes over the petals. “are these crocheted flowers? where did you get this at the last minute?” she looks up at him and tilts her head. “and you really didn’t have to get me flowers.”

“are you kidding?” mick snorts. “it’s valentine’s day with the andretti rocky. of course, i have to get her flowers. so… logan?”

“he’s busy,” she shrugs, starting to walk the sidewalks. “so what are we doing today? i was thinking… i saw there’s this mini golf place down the road. do you maybe wanna do that?”

“busy?” mick repeats, picking his feet up to chase her down. “don’t you guys usually do movie night? his shoot bleeds into the evening?”

she shrugs again, glancing at him over the shoulder with a small and polite grin. “literally have got no idea. i didn’t get to ask — just left the airbnb. he wasn’t up when i got out.”

“he wasn’t– is everything okay?” mick rests his elbow on her shoulder as they walk. “mini golf sounds kinda fun. wanna get some food before then?”

“i saw a ‘five guys’ down that road over there yesterday when i was taking a walk. can we get that?” she mutters, pointing ahead at the road.

“sure,” mick glances at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “but seriously–”

she stops walking and turns, a hand landing on mick’s chest to stop him from walking any further. he comes to a halt and takes a step back, glancing down at the hand against his chest. “what?”

“i don’t know what he’s doing. we just don’t want to spend valentine’s together this year, okay?” she grins. “can we stop talking about logan now? i’ve been thinking of a five guys burger all night.”

mick puts his hands in the air with a small grin. “okay. five guys then mini golf.” they start walking again. “anything in mind for tonight?”

2025

“bub! i’m home!” she peels her heels off and closes the door behind her, dropping her keys in the key dish. “i bought ice cream.”

matt appears from around the corner into her apartment, arms held wide with a spoon in his hand. “you’re home! hi!”

“hi!” she squeaks, resting her hand on his chest, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to her lips. “where’s kidnapper?”

“couch taking a nap,” he announces. “so, um. oscar and logan are coming over tonight.”

she stops halfway towards the couch and tilts her head. “what?”

“something about a valentine’s day tradition where you guys watch romcoms and drink?” he hums with a small grin. “mick and liam are coming too — with girlfriends. it’s a whole thing.”

“oh! we’re having a gathering,” she coos, walking right back to him and follows him into the kitchen. “would be nice to have a heads up before you invited my friends to spend valentine’s day with us, bub. our first one together too.”

matt hums, furrowing his eyebrows with a small grin. he turns back around to what’s in his pan. “it was in the group chat, bub. you know them — i don’t really have a choice when it’s their words against mine. it’s practically a 4 versus 1.”

“i guess you’re right,” she sighs, walking towards where he stands over the stove, wrapping her arms around him from behind and peeks over his body. “i was just so excited to spend my first valentine’s day with you. i didn’t know those losers were going to be intruding on our alone time.”

“we do have plans tomorrow,” he states, his hand resting over her arms resting over his stomach. “cause you know… you had stuff with work all day. it’s okay.”

“yeah, but it’s different,” she frowns. “did they tell you what movie they wanna watch?”

“you’re not going to like the answer,” he mumbles quickly. he turns the stove off before turning around, leaning back on the counter and looks down at her. “you’re going to absolutely try and gouge your eyes out before they arrive.”

she throws her head back with her bottom lip pouted out. “it can’t be that bad.”

he grins. “they wanna watch prom pact.”

she scowls and tears herself off him, taking a step back. “no! those plotting imbeciles!”

“yeah,” he sighs. “i told you you’re not going to like it.”

she presses the back of her hand against her forehead, turning on her heel. she starts to walk away, “isn’t your stupid friend in that movie? the one with the cute dog; super annoying guy?”

“i’m going to ignore that you said that last part.”

“you should. though i think his dog happens to be very cute,” she shrugs. “how long until everyone gets here?”

he glances at the clock, “half hour? 45 minutes?”

she shrugs her jacket off and sighs exasperatedly. “that’s enough time to prepare myself for the horrors of your friend starring in a movie from 2 years ago.”

“anything i can do to help you prepare?” he teases with a small grin, trailing behind her shortly. “cocktail? margarita or mojito? some pepsi?”

she looks over her shoulder, scrunching her nose. “lay with me for a little bit? i think i need a nap before the chaos starts.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

#logan sargeant x reader #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 grid x reader #f1 female driver #formula one x reader #fem!driver #f1 fem!driver #female driver #disneyprincemuke vr #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #vettel reincarnate

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httplilyyy · 9 months

Text

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 || 𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐅

pairing: lena oberdorf x reader

summary: you're best friends so what's wrong with one little cuddle?

warnings: nothing but fluff

word count: 1.3k

a/n: i haven’t written for the woso world in a while and due to the wwc going on i thought it was only fair to write a couple fics. send in ideas and prompts for people you want me to write for and i’ll see if my brain can work something out :)

woso masterlist request

You've known Lena for what seemed like forever. From the moment the two of you met you couldn't be kept away from each other. Now three years on, the two of you were as thick as thieves.

Only up until recently, you had been thinking of Lena in a different way. Going from longing gazes to discrete touches. You knew you were falling for the girl but you just couldn't stop yourself.

You knew you couldn't do anything with these feelings so you kept them buried deep down. Not telling anyone. Not a single soul.

Due to hiding your feelings you had been different around Lena, and you were sure she could sense it. As much as it pained you, you tried to put a little distance between you both but you were just not able to keep her from running around in your mind.

You were currently sitting on your sofa at home, scrolling through instagram when you noticed that Lena had posted. Clicking on her account you could’ve sworn you had heart palpitations.

Immediately liking her new photo, your heart nearly jumped out of your chest once you saw a message pop up at the top of your screen.

[ lena: 6:56pm ] eager much?

[ you: 6:56pm ] i’m sorry?

[ lena: 6:56pm ] check when i posted

Opening instagram back up, you saw how long ago she posted. And it wasn't long at all. 1 minute ago. Shit.

[ you: 6:57pm ] what? I can’t like a photo of my best friend?

Playing it cool and definitely not acknowledging the way your chest pained after typing the reply.

[ lena: 6:57pm ] oh no, you can. just seemed a bit quick, no?

[ you: 6:57pm ] i refreshed the app and you popped up

[ lena: 6:57pm ] mhm sureeeee

[ you: 6:58pm ] i hate you

[ lena: 5:58pm ] no you don’t

[ you: 5:58pm ] i’m pretty sure i do

[ lena: 5:58pm ] so if i invited you over for pizza and a movie you wouldn't come?

[ you: 5:59pm ] i hate you

[ lena: 5:59pm ] i’ll see you in a bit

You huffed out a laugh, getting up from the sofa with a sinking feeling in your stomach. You couldn't help but wonder what it’d be like if you actually told her how you felt. Shaking your head, you got rid of that idea.

Grabbing your keys from your kitchen counter, you put your shoes on and made your way over to Lena’s. It wasn’t a long drive and before you knew it you were standing outside her front door, waiting for her to let you in.

“The stalker’s here.” Lena grinned as she opened the door.

“Ha ha, very funny.” You deadpanned, walking past her and into the living room where there was pizza laid out on the coffee table.

“Wow, I don't even get a ‘hi’ and you’re already digging into the pizza.” Lena scoffed, sitting beside you on the sofa.

“I only came for free food and a movie.” You said with a grin, discreetly trying to put space between the two of you.

“Whatever.” Lena said, rolling her eyes as she tried to fight off a smile that made its way onto her face.

“What movie are we watching?” You asked, taking another slice of pizza.

“Ten things I hate about you.”

“Really?”

“What? I like a good romcom.” Lena shrugged, taking a slice of her own and pressing play on the movie.

As the movie went on, your concentration became less and less. Your brain solely focused on the person beside you. No matter how much space you put between her, you still felt yourself being drawn back to her. Like an unexplainable force pushing you together.

Shifting in your spot, you tried to get comfortable but it was no use. Every position seemed to be more uncomfortable than the last and unbeknownst to you, Lena seemed to be having the same problem.

From all your shifting around, the two of you were now sitting next to each other. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Lena rested her head on your shoulder, still trying to find a comfortable position.

Accidentally, Lena let out a small grumble, becoming fed up with being uncomfortable.

“You okay?” You chuckle, looking down at Lena.

“No.” She huffed, moving off your shoulder.

“What’s up?”

“I can’t get comfy.”

“Neither.” You agreed, a small tight-lipped smile making its way onto your face.

“Lay back.” Lena said, placing her hands on your waist, pushing you to lay on your back.

“Wha- um, okay.” You said, heart pounding as you let Lena guide you back.

You got yourself in a position so your head was rested on a pillow, being slightly propped up by the arm of the sofa so you could fully lay down.

Once you had stopped moving, Lena crawled on top of you, laying her body across yours.

“Is this okay?” Lena questioned as she let out a content sigh against your neck, her breath sending goosebumps to spread like a wildfire over your skin.

“Huh- I- what?” You blushed, eyes wide as you scolded yourself for not being able to form a complete sentence.

“Do you want me to get off?” Lena asked, placing her hands on the arm of the sofa, either side of your head, so she could look at your face properly.

“No! I uh-” You coughed and let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t think so?”

“You don’t think so?” Lena repeated with a teasing tone.

“I don’t want you to get off.”

“Okay.” Lena smiled and moved back to the position she was in originally.

By now the movie was long forgotten and you couldn't help the way your heart sped up at how Lena was on top of you.

Not knowing what to do without malfunctioning, you kept your arms up in the air, deciding that was the better option.

“You can touch me, y’know. I’m not fragile.” Lena said softly, reaching her arm out to grab yours, placing it around her waist.

“Mhm, yeah. I know that.” You said, placing your other arm on her back, slowly drawing intricate patterns.

The two of you didn't say anything for the rest of the movie, the both of you enjoying the tranquillity of the moment. As the credits played, you had failed to notice that Lena had drifted off to sleep.

You had tried to slide out from underneath her but it was no use. Shifting in her sleep, Lena mumbled a few incoherent words and you knew that you had fallen so hard, you don’t think anyone would be able to save you.

Letting yourself drift off into a deep sleep, the only thing grounding you was the person on top of you.

Many hours passed and it was now the early hours of the morning, the sun peaking through the blinds caused Lena to wake up from her sleep.

Some time during the night, the two of you had shifted so she was trapped between you and the cushions of the sofa.

Lena froze, noticing the position she was currently in and letting a blush take over her features. Her leg was draped over yours, tangled together and her hand had made its way up your top, resting on your stomach.

Snapping herself out of her thoughts, Lena quickly removed her hand from under your top, suddenly feeling her fingertips grow cold.

Shifting in your sleep, you wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her just a tad closer and resting your head in her neck.

“You’re staring.” You mumbled, eyes still closed as you let a small smile take over your face.

“I’m not.” Lena protested, weakly trying to get out of your hold.

“You’re lucky I like you.” You smiled, moving your head back to the pillow and tightening your grip on her.

Lena laid quietly for a while, assuming you had drifted back off to sleep before she spoke up again.

“I like you too.” She whispered, brushing a strand of hair that fell over your face.

“I knew it.” You smirked, pulling her closer into you. “Now go back to sleep.”

Lena let out a small chuckle, pressing her lips to your cheek before cuddling herself into you and drifting back off into sleep.

#lena oberdorf #lena oberdorf imagine #lena oberdorf imagines #lena oberdorf x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader

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littlemissayu · 23 days

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Wht Song would play in your Rom-Com?

A/N: Kinda surprising myself by posting twice today but hey I did it!! Lmk if you guys want a pt2 bc I don’t wanna write this just for you guys to not care for it or want smth else.

Pt2

Pairings: Heartsabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, and Scarabia x reader(romantic)

Dancing in the Moonlight by Toploader

Now I can see this playing out in a montage of you two getting closer somehow; being forced to work together and slowly warming up to each other(academic/work rivals or js u 2 being complete opposites etc.) or even just going from daily acquaintances, maybe you work at his local bakery or coffee shop, and you guys get closer and closer til one of you get the nerve to ask the other out.

Honeypie by JAWNY

This plays out when you guys are having your moment, yk the one where you just think to yourself, I can totally tell they love each other and not just cause the movie is telling you. You two are either talking about something you both feel passionate about and you just bounce off each other clearly feeling at home with this person. Or maybe you guys are just there together and something about the energy or aura of what you doing or not doing just radiates love.

Magic by One Direction

Playing while it finally hits him that he is totally head over heels for you, and he accepts it. He probably had a lurking feeling beforehand but now he is absolutely sure that he, Cater Diamond, is in love with you.

Come and Get Your Love by Redbone

This song plays out during your first date montage. It’s a supercute new love type of montage as you guys are just trying to impress each while being all lovey-dovey

Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus

I think this one is pretty self-explanatory. He's head over heels for you and this song plays during another montage of you two being silly goofy teenagers in love just running around giving everyone toothaches.

This Love by Maroon 5

This song plays while subtly flirting with(read as obviously pining over) you. You are making him work for it of course and it just makes him more determined to make you his. It will play again at the end of the movie too when you guys are finally together and everyone who’s watching you guys love story(in the movie or not) can finally rest now that you two are together while listening to a fun song.

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen

I can so picture this playing in a scene where you guys bond over having to do a task(like maybe cleaning a mess you two made) together as a new couple and you guys are just having the best time together being all in love and stuff. The sun is softly shining through a window and you clean, stealing kisses and flirting. It’s just such a cute scene.

My Girl by the Temptations

You can’t convince me that this song isn’t playing in a scene where you guys are having the first dance at your wedding. OR (another) montage of you guys being back at his home as he shows you the beauty of it and while you fall in love with his home he falls harder for you.

Ain’t no Mountain High Enough by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell

I don’t know why my brain has decided that the outro for Azul’s heartfelt closing song of his heartwarming, emotional, fluff filled Romcom. My thoughts refuse to see otherwise. Like just imagine when you uys finally kiss for the first time and you just hear the mesmerizing voices of Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell are just transitioning you over to the end montage of the life you and Azul live together with part of the credits playing and the end is a heartfelt message about love pertaining to the movie and then the very last credits roll.

Stand By Me by Ben E. King

Imagine the two of you dancing together confessing your feelings after being separated by your busy lives for years and after a reunion you two finally meet up and slowly what the two of you thought was just a crush forms into a beautiful love that he professes to you as you two dance in the moonlight. The atmosphere is romantic and his voice is mesmerizing; you two are just so in love.

Lay All Your Love on Me by Abba; Mamma Mia Ver.

Is this because of the scene during this song? Absolutely! Bc now that I got it into my head it’s never going to leave, just think about it. You two are just elling each other that you want the other to give you their everything. Also I this upbeat song just feels somewhat right for Floyd(i could be wrong tho)

Partners in Crime by Set it Off & Ash Castello

Just imagine the opening and closing song being this song because throughout the movie it’s about the two of you basically being Bonnie and Clyde, traveling across all of Twisted Wonderland causing crimes all by being crazy in love. Every hostage you’ve had to hold can always say one thing “They are mad for each other”. The song starts while we see you guys rob a bank and as the song says at the end the two of you are shot when cornered by the police whether you two die or not is dependent on whether the two of you get a sequel but who knows???

Stupid in Love by MAX and HUH YUNJIN

Are you kidding me?? This would be you guys' theme song. Just imagine this song being about the two of you about to get married but everyone says you guys are rushing it but like WHO CARES?? You two are so in love it makes everyone sick. This plays during the wedding and at the end when whatever your main conflict is gets solved. Just imagine you two finally happy and at the end you two are looking over a beautiful sunset on magic carpet.

LoveGame by Lady GaGa

You guys are enemies to lovers and this is the song that plays during your rivalry montage. Let’s say your Kalim’s cousin doesn't trust him in the slightest and he finds you annoying, because if you keep trying to investigate it could affect him and his family so you two are constantly going toe to toe and the tension is so thick, a butcher would struggle to cut it. During the montage of you two being enemies in public but lovers in private because you guys finally sliced the tension but you don’t want to reveal anything yet.

A/N: I’m not 100% on all of these but it was fun to do so even if you guys don’t specifically say you want a part 2 i might js make it for fun but do interact and lmk, it motivates me even to get out more content!! All my love!!

Heartsabyul Masterlist

Savanaclaw Masterlist

Octavinelle Masterlist

Scarabia Masterlist

TWST Masterlist

Grand Masterlist

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #fluff #riddle rosehearts x reader #cater diamond x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #romcom #trey clover x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #jack howl x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader

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auras-moonstone · 9 months

Note

could you write something about jack and shy!reader where they’re working on a romcom together and she’s very closed off with him bc she likes him and he’s always going to her trailer to hang out despite her being very quiet

okay so i may have reached a new level of cheesiness with this one shot but i kinda love it??? hope you do too🫶🏻💓

the tower at midnight — jack champion

word count: 2,394

pairing: jack champion x shy!fem!reader

summary: jack and y/n are working on a rom-com together. because of her shyness and crush on him, y/n is really closed off and jack is determined to change that.

WHEN Y/N AUDITIONED FOR THE ROLE OF ANNA IN THE NETFLIX ADAPTATION OF ANNA AND THE FRENCH KISS, she would’ve never ever—not even in her wildest dreams—imagined that the boy who played Étienne St. Clair (the love interest) would be Jack Champion, her celebrity crush.

Jack knew he had soft spot for her from the moment they met, at the cast presentation/meeting. Y/N had been standing awkwardly by the door because, just like him, she had arrived earlier than the rest.

“Hi, you must be Y/N” he gave her a wide smile, showing his perfect teeth and cute dimples. Y/N couldn’t believe he was even more perfect in person.

“Hi… yes” she shifted awkwardly. Her nostrils caught the scent of his strong and sweet cologne, and she instantly became addicted.

“I’m Jack! Nice to meet you! I’m really excited to be working with you” Jack’s voice was the complete opposite of hers—loud, excited, confident, steady.

“Thanks, me too” she sent him a soft smile, which was enough to send Jack’s heart beats on a marathon.

“It’s your first acting role, right?” he asked, interested in knowing more about the girl. Y/N nodded shyly. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll do amazing! I know it can seem very intimidating, but you’ll be okay”.

“Thank you” Y/N smiled gratefully. She was completely entranced by him, by his kindness and by his warmth.

“What are you listening to?” he asked, eyeing the earphone that hung from my neck.

“Um, the Mamma Mia soundtrack” she replied, cheeks red as she offered him one of the earphones. He beamed at her, and accepted it. They both sat together in comfortable silence, humming to the ABBA songs as they waited for the rest of the cast.

JACK THOUGHT THAT BY THE PASSING DAYS, Y/N WOULD WARM UP TO HIM AT LEAST A LITTLE. But he had been totally wrong, she even became more reserved than the day they met.

He only heard her voice when they were doing a scene, and it was weird to see the contrast between them when they were playing Anna and Étienne—two friends who were clearly into each other—and the real Y/N and Jack—two people who didn’t interact at all behind cameras. It was like living two lives, and Jack liked what he felt with Y/N when they were doing a scene together. Her eyes held a certain spark when she looked at him, and she blushed so prettily and her soft voice was just so enthralling… she was a great actress and Jack was beginning to think he was really not acting the attraction towards her at all.

Little did he know, Y/N wasn’t acting either. She liked him, a lot, and wished she wasn’t so shy because she really wanted to spend more time with Jack when the cameras weren’t near them. But Y/N knew she would make a fool of herself, and would be extremely obvious about her feelings, and weirding Jack out by her little crush was the last thing Y/N wanted. So, she stayed in her own little bubble while she enjoyed his company during the interactions between Anna and Étienne.

But Jack was not going to let it stay like that. And, one day, after they finished a scene, he followed Y/N to her trailer.

“Hey, do you mind if I stay with you?” Jack asked as she opened the door.

Y/N looked surprised “No… it’s okay” she said in a low tone. Jack smiled and held the door open for her. “Thanks” she muttered, her stomach squirming. He really was perfect.

There wasn’t a conversation at all. And one might think that would’ve been awkward as hell, but it wasn’t. Y/N felt comfortable, and Jack enjoyed her company even when they didn’t talk at all. So they did the same the next day, and the following one, and soon it became their little religion.

Y/N wondered why he kept going—not that she minded, of course. But he could spend his free time with other cast members who actually talked to him, and instead Jack sat in complete silence with her for minutes, not even attempting to make a conversation. She couldn’t help but ask.

“Why do you do this?” her question surprised him, and he paused the game he was playing on his phone.

“What?” Jack asked confused.

“You know, sit with me everyday, when I’m the most boring person to hang out” her voice was little.

Because I like you, he was tempted to say. But he didn’t want her to run away “You’re not boring. Sometimes conversations are overrated, you know? And it feels nice to hang out with you, you make me feel at peace”.

Y/N blushed. No one had ever said that to her ‘make me feel at peace’. Most people left her alone when they got the memo that she didn’t want to talk. Jack didn’t. “I… feel the same about you. I’m comfortable with you, and it’s… funny to watch you furrow your eyes when you are struggling at your game” she admitted, letting out a small laugh.

Jack’s smile appeared almost as a reflect. She had no idea how much he liked her “And I think it’s funny how you squirm whenever a kissing scene comes up in your book”.

Y/N’s body grew hot. “I just like when the characters finally kiss. I get invested a lot”

“Have you read Anna and the french kiss before the adaptation was announced?” Jack asked.

The girl smiled, she loved talking about rom-coms. “Of course. It’s one of my favorite romances. In fact, it enters my top five”.

“Oh, let’s see. Tell me your top” he asked, moving to sit next to her.

“At number five, Kisses and croissants—which like Anna, is set on Paris—, then The Happy Place—it’s really heart wrenching but it’s so good—, The do-over—I love it, it’s very original—, Anna and the french kiss—I absolutely love the whole Paris exploration and the romance and friendship between Anna and St. Clair is impeccable… and then, my absolute favorite is-“

“Wait! Drumrolls” he interrupted her, before making the sound.

Y/N laughed “Better than the movies, of course. Best romance I’ve ever read”.

“Oh, I know that one! I’ve been fan casted as the main character” Jack said.

As if I didn’t know, she said internally. He was the perfect Wes Bennet, and now that she actually knew him, she couldn’t deny it. “I know” she confessed.

“Really? What do you think?”

“The fans clearly make a good point” she said. How was he getting her to talk so much? She never felt like that towards someone. When she was around Jack, she wanted to make conversation.

Jack saw how passionate Y/N was about books, so he hold onto that topic. He loved hearing her voice, and her enthusiasm. “Tell me about this character. I’ve never read the book”.

And so Y/N talked about Wes, about how similar he was to Jack. And said boy was on cloud nine, not only was Y/N talking to him, but he was complimenting him. Well, she complimented Wes, but she mentioned lots of times how he and Jack were literally the same person—so the compliments were towards him too, right? And he loved it.

THEIR DYNAMIC COMPLETELY CHANGED EVER SINCE THAT DAY ON THE TRAILER. Jack noticed Y/N had grown more comfortable and confident around him, though she did have moments of shyness—especially when he threw praises at her. That’s another thing that changed: Jack wouldn’t pass the opportunity to shower her with compliments. The first one had slipped out of his mouth, she just looked so gorgeous on that skirt and top, that he couldn’t shut up. At first, he cursed at himself thinking it was going to make her uncomfortable, but then she blushed and gave him a little smile and Jack knew he had to tell her at least one nice thing every day. He realized that flattering her was his favorite activity, and he was very addicted to her reactions.

Maybe it was all in his imagination, but he had the feeling that Y/N liked him back. The blushing, the glances, her little stiffness whenever he got too close—it could be just her shyness, he knew it, but the hopeful part of him told him it was more than that.

“Y/N/N?” he interrupted her reading. That was a new activity they had—Jack asked Y/N if she could read him ‘Better than the movies’, and she couldn’t say no when he pouted. So she read to him during their breaks at the trailer.

“Yes?” she looked down at her lap, where Jack’s head was resting.

“Are you doing something tonight?” he asked.

Y/N frowned “No, why?”

“I just realize, we are in Paris and we didn’t get to explore much. Just the places we have filmed at, and it sucks because it is such a beautiful city”

“So…?”

“Right. Well, I was wondering if you wanted to explore with me tonight. We leave the set earlier today, so it’s a great opportunity. We can have dinner, and then visit some touristic places” he tried to speak confidently, but he was practically screaming on the inside.

“Yes, that sounds really nice, actually” she nodded, not thinking much of it. Jack cursed at her calmness, guess she didn’t understand he was actually asking her on a date.

“Great. It’s a date” Jack said, paying attention to her reaction. Her jaw fell open, and the grip on the book loosened letting it fall to her lap—or Jack’s face to be exact. “Ouch!”.

“Shit. Shit. I’m so sorry, Jack” Y/N apologised, body turning warm with embarrassment.

“You could’ve just said no, you know? Didn’t have to hit me with your book” he joked.

“No, no. I want to… I want it to be a date” she said softly. “Did I hurt you?” she touched his nose carefully.

“Not anymore. The pain is now long forgotten” Jack said looking her in the eyes. She turned her head away, they were too close and he was making her extremely nervous “I love it when you blush, did you know that? I… I like you”

“I got the hint ever since you randomly started to tell me compliments every day” she confessed.

“So you knew that I liked you?” Jack asked surprised. She nodded shyly “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Y/N shrugged “I’m not good at making the first move”

“Well, I am” he smiled smugly, leaning closer to her. He was going to kiss her. She had even closed her eyes, waiting for the feeling of his lips. “No”

Y/N opened her eyes in confusion “What?”

“You like romance, don’t you?” Jack asked, she affirmed with her head “We are in one of the most romantic cities in the world and you’re a fan of romantic comedies. Wouldn’t it be a shame if we have our first kiss in a trailer when there are so many beautiful places where we could have it?” he left Y/N completely speechless. “I’ll pick you up at 8, gorgeous”.

Y/N swooned. This guy was taken out of a romantic novel, there’s no other explanation.

WALKING AROUND THE CITY OF PARIS WITH JACK FELT LIKE A FAIRYTALE. They bought a disposable camera and took pictures of everything—when they went to The Louvre, to Le arc de Triomphe, the Luxembourg Gardens. And now, they were at their final stop before heading back to the hotel. Of course, they had to end their little exploration with Paris’ most iconic monument—the Eiffel Tower.

“Holy shit” Y/N said in complete awe. It was completely dark—as it was midnight already—so the tower shone brightly. The warm flashing lights of the monument reflected on Y/N’s starry eyes and Jack was completely taken by the view—her, of course. “This is completely mesmerising, Jack”.

“I know” eyes never leaving her eyes.

“Excuse moi” the voice of an old woman interrupted them. Y/N turned around and smiled warmly at her. She asked something in french that Jack couldn’t understand, but Y/N nodded and took the phone the woman held in her hands.

Y/N took a picture of the lady in front of the tower, and smiled at her as she handed the phone back. The unknown female looked at Jack, who was watching them with a grin, and said something to Y/N that made her blush and laugh.

“What did she say?” Jack asked curiously when Y/N came back to his side.

“She said that you were very handsome and that we make a great couple” Y/N admitted, smiling lightly but not quite looking at him from embarrassment.

“That was a wise woman, then” Jack smirked. “I didn’t know you spoke french”

“I studied it at school, so I can speak it quite well” she told him.

“Can you say something to me in french?” he was dying to hear her voice in that accent.

Y/N turned around to face him and, with an air of confidence, she said “Tu es le plus beau garçon que J'ai jamais vu. Je t'aime beaucoup et je suis amoureuse de ton sourire et de tes beaux yeux”.

With his jaw almost reaching the floor, his eyes roamed from her eyes down to her mouth, completely bewitched by the sound of her voice and the movement of her lips. He didn’t recognise one word that she had said, yet his heart felt like jumping out of his chest.

“Wha-what does that mean?” he whispered breathlessly.

“I said… You’re the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen. I like you very much and I’m in love with your smile and your beautiful eyes”

“And-and how do you say ‘Can I kiss you?’ in french?” he asked, fingertips caressing her full lips.

“Je peux t'embrasser?” she answered.

Jack smiled “Yes, of course you can”

Y/N laughed “Dork” she whispered before pressing her lips against his.

Y/N didn’t quite know how Jack manages to make her feel absolutely fearless. But she was in love with the feeling, she was so in love with him that she might stop breathing. She was in love with his cheeky smile, his sweet disposition, his understanding self, his silly jokes, his touch and his loving gaze, and now, one hundred percent, with his kisses.

“I’m in love with you too” Jack said against her lips.

#jack champion #jack champion x y/n #jackchampion #jack champion x reader #jack champion fluff #jack champion oneshot #jack champion imagine #ethan landry #ethanlandry #jack champion fanfic #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry fluff #anna and the french kiss

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bradshawssugarbaby · 5 months

Text

Home For Christmas - Jake Seresin x OC

A/N: This is my entry for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Writing Challenge, with the trope childhood friends. I was watching a lot of romcoms last night and felt inspired, it's definitely heavily influenced by 13 Going on 30, Just Friends + Sweet Home Alabama. (I realize only one of those is set in the winter, but I digress). I'm debating a part two/epilogue as well, if anyone is interested! Also super proud of this one, because it's the longest fic I've ever written.

pairing: Jake Seresin x OC

warnings/content: none, lots of fluff and pining. Jake's been promoted to Captain. Probably a lot of inaccuracies.

word count: 7.7k (literally my longest one yet, I'm sorry)

tagging anyone who might be interested: @littleenglishfangirl, @floydsmuse, @sailor-aviator, @mamachasesmayhem 🤍

December, 1999

“Jake! Jake, wait up!”

“Run faster then, I gotta get home before the street lights come on or my mama’s gonna be so mad she won’t let you come over tomorrow!”

“Jake, your mama’s not gonna say no to me comin’ over and you know it.”

“Jenna, how you ever gonna keep up with me when I join the navy and start having to run a few miles every day?”

Jake turned around to face you for a moment, running backwards with a grin plastered on his face, his baby-faced cheeks red from the cold, his green eyes full of mischief as he watched you try and keep up with him. His sandy blonde hair stuck out slightly from underneath his Dallas Cowboys baseball cap, a handmedown from his older brother that he rarely left home without since Matt had given it to him. He stopped running, placing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, the cold air stinging his throat as he panted. You finally managed to close the distance between the two of you, raising an eyebrow as you panted, your own cheeks ruddy from the combination of cold winter air and physical activity.

You and Jake had been best friends as long as you could remember. In eleven years, you couldn’t name a single time where the two of you had as much as had a disagreement, or went more than a few hours without talking to one another. Your mothers had been best friends in high school, and you two were destined to be best friends since birth - born four days apart in the same hospital, living on the same street and having your first play date at 10 and 7 days old. Jake was four days older than you, and he never let you forget it when it came to matters where age or maturity played a role. However, where Jake had four days more experience in the world, you had multitudes more experience in dealing with hardship than any eleven-year-old child should have.

Where Jake had the picture-perfect family - a mom, a dad, an older sister, an older brother and him, all living in perfect harmonious happiness, never as much as a doubt as to whether or not there was love in his household, you had the opposite. An absent father, an only child, and a mother who worked two jobs to try and make life better for the two of you, you spent almost every waking minute with Jake and his family, not only as an escape to experience the happy, blissfully carefree life he lived, but also, as a favour to your mother, with Mrs. Seresin often volunteering to care for you when your mother had to work late or work on weekends.

You were at the Seresin home almost every night, with Jake’s mother fussing over her best friend’s daughter, helping her lifelong friend however she could in guiding her little girl, you acting as the surrogate daughter that part of her had always wanted. Jake’s father trying to fill in the blanks where your father had lacked - offering to coach sports teams and including you in games of catch with Jake and his brother, taking you and the boys to get new baseball gloves or soccer cleats when needed, taking the three of you for ice cream after a big achievement in life. Jake’s 16 year old sister, Bethany, would take time to do your hair in the mornings before school whenever she had a chance, offering to do it in all the fun styles she and her friends wore, the kind you were often envious of, passing you old tubes of lip gloss she had lingering around in her backpack on your way to school, encouraging you to use them to your hearts content. Even Matt, who at 14, thought his brother and his brother’s friends were the most irritating beings in existence, had offered you old sports jerseys of his that no longer fit, teasing you the same way he’d tease Jake, treating you like the little sister he never had.

Until this past summer, you found yourself wishing most days that Jake’s family would just adopt you, let your mother move in with them and the two of you could just officially be a part of their fun, bustling family that served as your cheerful escape from life. However, when elementary school ended in June with middle school looming around the corner, Bethany had pulled you aside to talk to you about the transition between schools.

“You know, middle school is…different. It’s not bad. It’s just…things change sometimes. You and Jake might start going on dates with people from school, and it might change your relationship. It happens,” She’d said matter of factly, not mincing words as she shrugged her shoulders, fixing her frosted eyeshadow in the mirror before turning to face you again.

“You might even develop feelings for each other.”

At the time, her words didn’t hold meaning for you. You and Jake had been best friends since Jake was four days old. Your moms were best friends. You practically lived in their home. There was no way things could change between you. You could never have a crush on Jake. He was Jake, the boy who would hide under his mama’s kitchen table with you and a flashlight, swapping baseball cards with one another, the boy who, when you were six-years-old, you’d witnessed eat an entire package of Oreos, then laughed at as he proceeded to throw up an hour later from the sheer volume of chocolate-vanilla sandwich cookies he’d consumed that day. Jake could never be someone you’d have a crush on. He was your best friend. That would never change.

It was two weeks later when Jake had been on the baseball diamond, pitching an inning of Little League with you in the stands watching on. His baseball cap had been flipped backwards to mimic one of his favourite major league players, his green eyes narrowing in concentration with every pitch he threw out. His golden blonde hair poked out the front of his baseball cap, much like it was doing today, on this cold January evening. His focus was on nothing but baseball, while yours was on everything but when it came to him. When he happened to look your way during the game, you felt a weird feeling in your stomach - a bubbling sensation, like nerves that couldn’t be settled. Your cheeks flushed, turning a pale pink as they became warm to the touch, reddening slightly as you felt Bethany’s gaze fall on you, a grin forming on her face as you proved her right about how your feelings were evolving for Jake.

Since that day, you’d found yourself continuing to crush on him, each day your feelings grew deeper and more intense than the day before. At this point, you almost swore you could see yourself marrying him one day. You had to admit, you knew everything there was to know about him, you always had fun with him, and he was always happy to see you - you were convinced you two could be as happy and as in love as his parents were someday when you and Jake got older. You’d never tell Jake, you just hoped and prayed that he’d realize one day that he felt the same way about you as you felt about him. You knew there was always the chance that it might not happen, but you didn’t want to think about that. In fact, as far as you were concerned, you hoped that there was never a day where Jake didn’t love you as wholeheartedly as your little eleven year old self loved him.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

Present Day

“Jake, please, come back. I miss you,”

“I miss you too, Jenna, I’m coming home to you. It’s always been you.”

The ear-piercing screech of your phone’s alarm blared from your nightstand, interrupting your dream as it screamed at you. You rolled over in bed, groaning as you clumsily stuck your hand out, feeling around on the wooden side table for your phone to silence it and allow yourself a few more moments of peace and quiet before you had to start your day. The last think you wanted right now was to let this dream slip away on you - it was the closest you’d ever find yourself to Jake professing his love for you after all these years, and you clung to it whenever it cropped up in your mind as you slept.

Jake had always been the one-who-got-away for you. You spent your entire middle school years trying to hide your feelings for him, refusing to break until he said how he felt first. You were 13 when he got his first girlfriend, Tiffany Donaldson, a girl in your class. Tiffany was pretty and popular, something that you couldn’t claim for yourself in either case - growing up with Jake, you were seen as more of a teammate or a sister-figure than anything else, despite his sister’s best efforts to help you shake that connection somewhat. After Tiffany, you two had begun high school, and Jake made the football team, and the baseball team. As the school’s star runningback and starting pitcher for the varsity team, Jake was popular beyond words. No one could hold a candle to him, and as his popularity soared because of his athletic prowess in school, you faded further and further back into obscurity, the limelight falling from you and onto someone new each time Jake began dating another girl. Eventually, by the time graduation rolled around, you and Jake had all but fallen out of touch with each other outside of family get-togethers shared between your mothers.

You had just worked up the courage to tell him your feelings at the graduation party Jake’s parents had thrown for you both, convincing yourself that it was perfect timing - Jake had accepted an offer at the University of Texas at Austin, keeping close to home as he planned to study finance, his secret talent having always been math. You’d accepted an offer to study communications at the same school, and with both of you remaining local, it would be the perfect time to tell him how you felt and attempt a relationship with him, or so you thought.

Before the words could even leave your mouth, Jake was excitedly pulling you aside at the party, stopping outside of his childhood bedroom, the place where the two of you had often played as kids. His green eyes were full of excitement as he looked at you, causing your heart to race as butterflies fluttered in your stomach, making it hard to concentrate on his words. You almost didn’t hear him when he spoke, you were so transfixed on him. If the news had been anything else, you probably wouldn’t have even registered what he’d said the first time. You could still hear the excitement in his voice as he told you his news, and still feel the ache in the pit of your stomach as his words fell on your ears.

“I got accepted! I’m going to the Naval Academy, Jenna, can you believe it? I’m going to serve in the Navy, just like I always wanted. I’m going to be the best aviator they’ve ever seen. Just you watch.”

Jake’s voice was practically buzzing with excitement as he’d told you his news, and it took everything you had in you to not fall apart as he spoke. While you knew he’d always dreamed of being a naval aviator, as long as you could remember, the news hit you like a ton of bricks, unexpected and hard as it rendered you speechless, leaving you nodding your head and smiling like an idiot while inside you wanted nothing more than to scream out how you felt. You knew this could never work out between you now. Your chance was gone, moving away to Maryland and joining the Navy before you’d even had a second to realize what was happening when he spoke.

That was 17 years ago, and the moment still haunted you from time to time, more than you’d like to admit to anyone. At first, you’d kept in touch with Jake and his family, seeing Jake when he came home for holidays and such at first, but then, as you and Jake began entering your first romantic relationships as adults, you found yourselves including each other less and less in your lives. With each boyfriend you had, you realized more and more that you could never love them the way you loved Jake -he’d always be your first love, regardless of how he felt in return. When Jake graduated, he’d been stationed at NAS Lemoore, swapping Maryland for California. You’d still hear the odd update from your mother, who remained in touch with Jake’s parents, but otherwise, you didn’t ask much about Jake’s adult life. You knew he’d never married, that he’d become a Top Gun graduate, and held true to his word about becoming one of the greatest fighter pilots in the United States Navy, but other than that, you knew little about his life now. Last you had heard, last Christmas, he’d been stationed in San Diego.

You sat up in bed, yawning and stretching your body out before heaving a heavy sigh and shaking your head to rid yourself of thoughts of Jake. You were preparing for a trip back home to Texas for the holidays, spending three weeks back with your mother, part of you wishing and longing for Jake to be visiting his family at the same time, while the other part of you prayed he was staying in California or serving a tour so he wouldn’t be able to be there while you were. It had been close to 15 years since you’d seen him, and the last thing you needed was to be reminded of how you strongly you felt. You didn’t need the help from seeing him. The memories of him were more than enough to keep you clinging on.

Your phone rang and with bleary eyes, you picked it up, pressing the green button to answer the call.

“Good morning, sweetheart!” Your mother practically sang out in a voice that was far too cheerful for anyone to have at this hour.

“Hi mama, what’s up? My flight doesn’t land until this evening.”

“Well, I was talking to Mrs. Seresin about Jake, Matt and Bethany…” Your mother’s voice trailed off as she spoke, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat at the mention of Jake.

“Mhmm?” You responded as you stood up, balancing the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you folded a sweatshirt and set it down neatly on the bed, waiting to be packed.

“It turns out both of us are having our kids home for Christmas! Bethany’s coming down from Dallas with her husband and their little ones, and Matt’s coming from Oklahoma City with his fiancee, and Jake’s flying in on leave from California. He’s made his way up to Captain now, you know, Jenna. He’s made quite the career for himself.”

“Mama, I don’t need a sales pitch on why Jake Seresin is the perfect man for me, ok? He hasn’t seen me in years. He probably wouldn’t even recognize me if he saw me.”

“You never know. But I expect you to dress nicely for their Christmas party. You and I have been invited to join them, and I already said you would gladly be attending.”

“Of course you did. So Jake will be there, then?”

“I think his flight lands just before yours does today, actually. His mama and I were actually discussing if we should just carpool together to pick you both up like back when you two were in school together. Remember that? We used to take turns carting you kids back and forth from home to school.”

“I remember, mama. Don’t worry.”

“Anyway…we were talking and it turns out, Jake happens to be single.”

“Mama, why would I care that Jake’s single?” You replied, trying to sound as level-headed as possible.

“Please, Jenna. You really think I don’t know about this crush of yours you’ve been harbourin’ for years?” You could hear the laughter in your mother’s tone as she spoke, and it stung, almost as though your feelings had betrayed you.

“Mama! I haven’t had a crush on Jake in years. Not since he left for the Navy.”

“Of course not…just, do me a favour? Wear something nice for that Christmas party, ok?”

“Sure, Mama, whatever you say.”

You finished the conversation with your mother and let out an exasperated sigh as you tossed your phone onto your bed beside you. You had to be at the airport in three hours, leaving you little time to completely reconfigure your wardrobe for the next few weeks at home in Austin. Peering into your closet, scanning the items as they sat on wire hangers in the tiny space, you frowned, realizing that nothing was worthy of a reunion with Jake after all these years. At the back of the closet, you found a black, form-fitting sweater dress that you hadn’t worn in years, but, as you held it up to yourself in the mirror, you figured it could work. Part of you hoped this reunion could be the thing that’d remind Jake of what he was missing out on for the last 17 years.

As you finished packing your suitcase, you zipped it closed with a sigh, shaking your head as you tried to calm your nerves before getting yourself ready for your flight. There was a chance you could see Jake at the airport, and you knew you had to look your best, just in case.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

The flight from Chicago to Austin was the most painful three hours of your life. You tried to focus your attention on anything but Jake, but every movie saved on your phone, every book on your tablet, and every thought that crossed your mind was filled with him. You tried reminding yourself that he could be a totally different person from who he was when you were 18. That he could look completely different, act completely different - that he may not even know who you are anymore. The thought of Jake forgetting you was suffocating, closing in on you a little bit more every time it creeped into your mind. You took a deep breath as you departed the plane, your eyes scanning the crowd for your mother as you gripped your carry-on. Your face went white as a sheet as you saw her standing with Mrs. Serensin, both of whom waved frantically with excitement as they saw you.

“Jenna! It’s been so long, darlin’, how have you been? Your mama’s told me lots, but I feel like it’s no substitute for getting to see you in person!”

“Hi, Mrs. Serensin! I’ve been ok, how have you guys been? Haven’t seen you in about, 15 years? I think I saw y’all the one visit after Jake shipped out, but I haven’t been home much for the holidays, Mama’s usually up in Chicago visiting me.”

“We’ve been good, Bethany has two boys now, Easton and Dylan, and Matt’s met this girl, Alexis, she’s wonderful, a real sweetheart. He’s gettin’ married next summer. “

“Oh, that’s great news!” You replied cheerfully, fighting the instinct to bite your lip as she failed to mention where Jake was at in life.

“We better get going, Julie, Jake’s plane’s about to land,” Your mother said as she grabbed Mrs. Seresin’s arm excitedly, nodding her head.

“Oh, I thought Jake landed earlier?”

“He was meant to, but his flight got delayed, he’s landing in a few minutes now, I think.”

You nodded your head slowly, reluctantly following behind as your mom and Mrs. Serensin led the way to Jake’s terminal, biting the inside of your cheek as your eyes followed the signage as you walked past. You tried your best to focus on something, anything, but your nerves but so far, your nerves were winning. You were terrified. What if Jake hated you for not staying in touch? What if he forgot all about you? What if you were the last person he wanted to see? What he if came through those doors with a surprise girlfriend on his arm?

“Ma!” You heard a voice call out. You looked up to see a tall, handsome man with neatly combed blonde hair, piercing green eyes and sunkissed skin. His naval uniform was still perfectly pressed without a crease on it somehow after his flight, and he looked perfect. You knew in an instant that it was him.

“Ms. T?” He chuckled as he shook his head, pulling back from his mother’s embrace as he gave your mother a heartfelt hug, before pausing as he looked at you, a warm smile on his lips as he nodded his head, his blonde eyebrow cocked upwards in surprise.

“Jenna?”

“The one and only,” You shrugged with a smile as you tried your best to play it cool, forgetting for a moment that at 35 years old, you shouldn’t be getting tongue-tied and start giggling like a schoolgirl over a crush. The mere fact that you still had a crush on Jake was enough to make you feel like a fool.

“It’s nice to see ya, Jenna,” Jake nodded as he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you into his embrace. You breathed in the scent of his cologne, notes of whiskey and cedarwood encircling you as his grip remained tight, yet comfortable around you, as if he was hugging his long lost friend, which, he was in a sense.

“Nice to see you too, Jake,” You nodded once as he pulled away, a soft smile on your lips as you looked at him, trying to commit this moment to memory before it drifted away on you.

You swore out of the corner of your eye, you saw your mothers exchange a look with one another, a secret signal to one another, as if a master plan of theirs was underway, and everything was beginning to come together before their eyes.

As the four of you headed out to the car together, you caught yourself repeatedly stealing glances at Jake. He hadn’t changed hardly at all since you saw him last, apart from gaining some muscle, and his cheekbones and jawline becoming a bit more defined as he’d aged. He looked incredible for 35, if you didn’t know him, you likely would have guessed he was barely 30, and you couldn’t help but feel yourself fall deeper with each stolen look at him.

“So, you’re Captain Seresin now then?” You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him, hoping to break the silence brewing between the two of you.

“Yeah, this past April! I didn’t expect to get it, to be honest.”

Jake’s cheeks reddened as he smiled at you, trying to appear modest as he spoke of his accomplishments in the Navy since you’d last seen him. He had always used to have an ego so big that it’d rival some of the aircraft around in size, especially as a teenager - he was good and he knew he was good when it came to sports. It was part of what drove the two of you apart, but around you? He was modest like he always had been before, acting embarrassed by the achievements he’d otherwise never shut up about. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think Jake was nervous around you. Jake Seresin, the only service member on active duty with multiple confirmed kills, the US Naval Air Force Captain who’s served for the last 17 years without as much as a scratch on him, the man who graduated top of his class from the Top Gun program, where only the best of the best are selected to participate. Jake Seresin had no need to be nervous about impressing you. He could have impressed you by simply looking your way - but for some reason, he was nervous around you, reduced to a blushing, modest mess.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

“Jake’s such a lovely boy,” Your mother said as she sipped her morning coffee, eyes fixated on the news program on her television set.

“He’s 35, mama, he’s hardly a boy now.”

“Fine, Jake’s a lovely man, he’s still just as sweet as I remember him being when he was young. He comes back to visit whenever he gets a leave and stays for a few days, and he always stops by to say hello - he even asks about you sometimes.”

“He asks about me?”

“He sure does, he asked Julie about you the other day, in fact. He was asking if you’d be home this time at Christmas. Seems you two always come back to visit on opposite schedules and never run into each other. He was saying he’d like to see you again, Jenna.”

Your mother’s words hung in the air for a moment. You took a sip from your coffee mug and furrowed your brow as you thought it over. You dismissed your mother’s words as nothing more than an attempt to set you and Jake up on a date, one that you figured Jake wasn’t going to be a willing participant of.

“Oh Mama, hush, he probably just said that to be polite because he figured I’d be coming home for the holidays anyway.”

“Jenna, why are you always so stubborn?” Your mother frowned, shaking her head as she let out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not stubborn, I’m just…practical. I’m the only one who seems to realize the fact that Jake and I haven’t seen each other in 17 years, Mama. We’re not the same people we were when we were 18. He could be a serial womanizer with a series of broken hearts left behind waiting for him in California for all I know. He could have 17 kids by different women, or be a serial killer, Mama. I literally know nothing about him anymore.”

“Jenna Elizabeth Taylor, you’re just being ridiculous now,” Your mother frowned as she shook her head, sighing, “I think Julie would have mentioned it if Jake was a father, and do you really think he’s the type to go around breaking hearts for fun? Besides, how could he be a serial killer if he’s busy flying around on missions all the time?”

“You’re missing my point, Ma.”

“No, Jenna, I think you’re missing mine,” She sighed, setting her mug down on the table as she pursed her lips, “My point is, I know you’ve been holding out for him for years. He’s asked his mama about you, he’s been asking if you were coming home, he stops in to see me whenever he comes home - do you really think he’d do all that if he didn’t still feel something for you?”

“Mama, I’m not going to make a fool of myself and throw myself at him, contrary to what you think would work.”

You heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, and when you turned on your heel, you stood face to face with Jake, now sporting a fitted pair of acid-washed light denim jeans and a burnt orange Texas Longhorns football jersey and a brown corduroy bomber jacket shrugged on over top. His blonde hair peaked out from behind his beloved baseball cap, you’d swear it was the same one he’d been wearing since he was 15 if you didn’t know any better, this hat looked like it had been through hell and back.

He’d let himself in through the unlocked front door, almost certainly at your mother’s previous insistence or invitation. His cheeks were blushing again, his green eyes darting between the two of you, a blonde eyebrow cocked upwards as his gaze landed on you.

“Throw yourself at who?” He chuckled, flashing a set of perfect white teeth your way as gave you that same grin that he always did when you were kids. It was the kind of smile that always got him out of trouble, and sometimes, into trouble, depending on the situation.

“No one,” You said quickly, shooting your mother a warning glance as you shook your head, a few strands of light brown hair falling free from your half-assed ponytail that you’d thrown it up into the night before for bed. You realized that Jake was now standing in your mother��s living room while you were sporting an oversized old Texas Longhorns tee and a pair of sweatpants - not ideal attire for seeing a man you were attracted to in, regardless of your protests about your feelings to your mother.

“Right,” Jake nodded his head, but the tone in his voice told you he didn’t quite believe a word you were saying, “I know this isn’t a great time, but Ma wanted me to check and see if you and Ms. T were still able to make it tonight, she wanted me to ask in person, and she wanted me to see if you needed my help bringing anything over, she said you were bringing your famous taco dip, Ms. T? I can bring the dish over now for you if you’d like, Ma’s cleared out the fridge of anything that isn’t a necessity for the party so there’s tons of room.”

“Sure, Jake, honey, it’s in the fridge, Jenna can show you where, I just have to run upstairs and grab something to send to your mama’s with you,” Your mother said as she stood up, heading off up the stairs quicker than you could say a word, leaving you and Jake alone in an awkward stance, nothing but the sound of the morning news to fill the silent void between you, until Jake cleared his throat again before pointing his index finger towards the kitchen.

“In here? I’m sure I can find it if you need to go upstairs and get changed.”

“I’m fine, not like you haven’t seen me in pajamas before, Jake.”

“Well, in my defense, last time we were like, 12.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen a woman in an oversized tee and sweatpants before,” You shrugged nonchalantly, pretending to be completely unbothered by the fact you felt like you were dressed like an absolute slob right now.

“Alright, lead the way then,” Jake nodded as he followed behind you.

You felt his eyes make their way down your body, and you swore you could hear him muttering something under his breath as he sauntered into the kitchen after you. You couldn’t make out what he had said, but it sounded almost like a “Jesus Christ” before he coughed and averted his gaze as you turned to face him. You opened the fridge and grabbed the dish containing your mom’s taco dip before setting it on the counter for Jake to take home. You raised an eyebrow at Jake as you caught him staring in your direction, a look of bewilderment on his face.

“You good, Hangman?”

“Hmm?” Jake said as he shook his head, an awkward laugh escaping his lips as he raised an eyebrow at you, “How did you know my callsign?”

“Because it’s on the back of your jersey, genius.”

Jake raised an eyebrow as he looked down, as if he’d forgotten what shirt he was wearing today. He nodded his head and laughed as he ran a hand through the back of his hair, scratching the back of his neck as he looked back up at you.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Just, uh, jet-lagged, I think.”

“Jet-lagged? Isn’t only two hours behind us in San Diego?”

“You can still feel jet-lag with a two hour difference, Jenna.”

“I’m not stupid, Jake, I know that, but you seem…distracted? Not tired.”

“I’m fine, honest,” He nodded as he shoved his hands into his front pockets, looking around the kitchen as you checked the fridge for the extra shredded cheese and green onions your mother had prepared the night before to top the dip she’d made.

“Suit yourself, Jake,” You laughed as you set everything out on the counter for him and nodded, “If you give me five minutes to get dressed, I’ll help you bring it over.”

“Five minutes? God, I remember you taking 30 minutes to get ready when we were kids.”

“I was 12, it was 2000, I needed more time to perfect my lip gloss routine. Now I just have to put something warmer and nicer on than a t-shirt and sweatpants.”

“Fair enough, I can wait here. Your mama said she’d back down in a minute with something for Ma anyways.”

“Right, I’ll be back down in five.”

You turned around and headed back up the stairs, sighing softly to yourself as you entered your childhood bedroom, opening your suitcase as you grabbed out a pair of jeans and a vintage crewneck sweatshirt. You tidied your hair up into a neat ponytail before heading back down the stairs to meet Jake, who was currently talking to your mother in the kitchen, his body leaning against the counter as he spoke. Jake looked up at you, straightening his posture as he saw you. He picked the taco dip up from the counter, along with the reusable shopping bag your mother had packed up of the extra ingredients. Sitting on the counter next to the food was a gift, perfectly wrapped with a gold bow and a tag written out in your mother’s sleek handwriting. Jake’s mother and yours had always exchanged gifts with one another, and it warmed your heart in a sense to see the tradition still carrying on for them.

“So, you enjoy living in Chicago?” Jake asked, watching you as the two of you headed back from your childhood home, Jake having insisted on walking you back so you could spend some time catching up, even if just for a few minutes. .

“Yeah, it’s a change of scenery. It’s different from Austin for sure. How’s San Diego treating you?”

“It’s pretty good, I like being on the beach. I do miss home sometimes though,” He laughed softly, giving his shoulders a gentle shrug as he looked around at the street you grew up on, just a couple of blocks away from his own childhood home.

“I mean, yeah, I miss my mom sometimes when I’m in Chicago, but, I know it’s easier for me to come home and see her than for you to come home and see your family.”

“Jenna? Can I ask you something?”

“Mhmm?”

“Do you…do you regret leaving for Chicago?”

“No, I wouldn’t be where I’m at now if I hadn’t left. I have a really good career in public relations, and I’m happy with where I’m at professionally. I wouldn’t have gotten that if I stayed in Austin, just like you wouldn’t have gotten as far in the Navy if you hadn’t gone to Annapolis.”

Jake stayed silent for a minute, his eyes looking everywhere but at you, avoiding your gaze. You could sense tension between the two of you. The Jake you knew growing up was never awkward, and never stopped talking - had he really changed that much since he’d left? You couldn’t see the Navy taming him to the point where he became reserved, Jake had always been so outgoing, so full of self-pride that it often came off as cocksure arrogance, but most of the time, it was out of sheer disbelief that he’d made it that far. You looked to him, his hands firmly in his pockets as he let out a huff, his breath turning to vapor in the cool December air.

“I should really get going,” Jake nodded slowly, checking his watch as he looked back towards the street, “I promised Ma I’d help her set up.”

“Right, right, I’ll see you in a couple hours? Mama and I’ll be there.”

“Perfect, I’ll see you then,” Jake nodded, a warm smile on his features as he turned to start heading back.

You let out a heavy sigh, mentally kicking yourself as you realized you’d just let another opportunity to tell Jake how you felt slip away from you. As you headed up to your bedroom to get ready, moving quickly to dodge any questions from your mother, who was probably desperate to hear how your alone time with Jake had gone.

You shut the door behind you, sighing again as you sat at your old vanity table, brushing through your hair and sectioning it with a claw clip as you began straightening it, trying your best to calm your nerves and make a decision on how you were going to approach Jake. You wanted to tell him, desperately, how you felt, but, part of you couldn’t help but cling to the fact you might regret it. That you might be disappointed and find out that Jake never felt the same about you, and that he never would. Or that he’d be in a relationship with someone else back in San Diego, someone prettier, younger, smarter, better.

On the other hand, did you really want to commit yourself to never telling him how you felt? Letting the door shut on the one man you’d loved the longest, the most, and the hardest in your lifetime? Could you really be happy with anyone else? What if something happened to Jake while he was serving and you never got the chance to share how you felt? What if, somehow, there was the off chance he felt the same way about you?

As you finished your makeup, taking a deep breath as you looked yourself over in the mirror, you nodded your head. You had to tell him. There was no way you could let him go back to San Diego without knowing. You couldn’t let this go unsaid any longer, if for no other reason than to give yourself closure. If he rejected you, you could move on - or at least, try to. You could finally let go of your feelings and meet someone, and try your hardest to love them with the same enthusiastic, all-consuming love you felt for Jake. If he felt the same way, you’d apply for a job transfer to Los Angeles as soon as possible, because a three-hour drive was much more manageable of a commute to see him than a flight from Chicago to San Diego.

This was it, you were going to finally do it. You just needed to get Jake alone.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

“Oh, Jenna! It’s been so long, how are you?”

Bethany’s voice was sweet as honey as she spoke, wrapping her arms around you in a warm embrace, as if she’d been missing you for years and the sight of you reminded her of just how much.

“I’m great thanks, Beth, how are you? Your mama said you have two boys now? Easton and Dylan?”

“Yeah, they’re 6 and 4, they’re little handfuls like their uncles, but I guess that’s to be expected when you’ve got Jake and Matt as influences for you. My husband’s not much better.”

Bethany laughed as she gestured towards Jake playing with Easton? Or was it Dylan? Jake’s unmistakeable toothy grin plastered on his face, his green eyes alight with joy as he lifted his young nephew up, tickling him, the young boy’s laughter filling the air as Jake continued to make him laugh. Jake looked up to see you with his sister, smiling as he set the boy down on the floor, ruffling his hair with his fingers before making his way over to you.

“Jenna! Hey, I’m glad you came.”

“Told you I would, didn’t I?” You laughed, shrugging your shoulders as effortlessly as possible as you tried to play it cool, praying no one saw through the front you were putting up.

“Hey, Jenna, can I…can I talk to you for a sec?” Jake asked sheepishly.

You couldn’t mistake the look on Bethany’s face, biting her lip to hold back a grin. You caught Jake giving her a stare that could make any person stop dead in their tracks, his green eyes practically piercing through his older sister as she tried not to laugh. As you nodded your head, raising your eyebrow at the scene unfolding before you. You followed behind Jake as he led you upstairs to his old childhood bedroom. When he opened the door, you were confronted with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. Old pictures adorned the wall, some including you and Jake as children, with ice cream covered smiles and skinned knees, baseball uniforms and halloween costumes, missing teeth and messy curls.

“Ma hasn’t changed anything since I left home, I don’t even think she’s bought new bedding for this room.” He chuckled as he looked around the room, his large hands placed firmly on his hips as he stood in the doorway.

“Still sleeping with those baseball player sheets you had as a kid?” You teased, eyeing the comforter on the bed, neatly made and pulled together, a sign of Jake’s time in the navy.

“You know it, I’m still a big kid, really,” He laughed, nodding his head as he pointed to a picture on the wall before looking over at you, “Remember this one? Your 7th birthday party, I think I snuck an extra little bit of frosting off your birthday cake and my mama almost killed me. She told me I had the table manners of a barn animal.”

“You did, you used to chew with your mouth full too.”

“I grew out of it at least. I’m a little more civilized now.” Jake replied with a smirk, shrugging his shoulders as he turned to face you, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath before exhaling sharply. You could see Jake chewing at the inside of his cheek, nodding his head as his eyes met yours.

“I have to tell you something, ok?” He finally said, sighing heavily.

“I’m listening, Jake.”

“I should have told you this a long time ago, but…I love you.”

You sputtered for a moment, eyes wide in shock as he spoke. He frowned, clearly expecting a better reaction than what you’d given him. Jake shook his head and took your hand in his, stroking the back of your hand gently with his fingers, which were almost surprisingly soft and smooth to the touch.

“I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t care if you just wanna be friends after hearing this, because even though the truth is, I'm scared to be your friend, I would rather have you in my life as a friend than not have you in my life at all. The last 17 years have been spent missing you and wishing I’d said something before I left. That I’d kissed you or held you, or said something, anything to you.” He frowned, nodding his head as he looked to the ground before continuing to speak, his voice beginning to tremble with emotion.

“I was stupid to just go and leave things there, but I’ve been paying for it ever since. No other woman has ever compared to you.”

Without another word, you gripped the front of Jake’s football jersey, using it to give you leverage to pull him in closer, your lips crashing into his just as he looked up at you to see what you were doing. Any initial hesitation either of you felt melted away into the kiss, your lips moving together passionately, Jake’s hands trailing their way down your sides to rest on your hips, pulling your body in closer to his. When he finally pulled away to catch his breath, he maintained a small distance between the two of you, speaking in a low whisper as he watched you bite your now puffy, kiss-bitten bottom lip.

“Is that your way of telling me you feel the same way? Because if you do, I want to take you on a date. And I don't care if it's in the day, or at night, or whenever, as long as it's a real date. And I wanna sit there and tell you how beautiful I think you are, Inside and out. How you’ve always been the most beautiful girl in the world to me, without a doubt. And I wanna have babies with you, and I wanna marry you, and I wanna tell you every day that I love you and I always have." Jake nodded, his cheeks blushing as he scratched the back of his neck again, waiting for your response to his rambling feelings.

“Jake, I’ve spent the last 17 years of my life waiting to hear you say that.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Jenna. I’m so sorry I made you wait.”

“Promise me something, Jake?”

“Anything you want, pretty girl.”

“Promise me you won’t make me wait that long again? I’m not sure I can wait another 17 years for you to ask me to marry you.”

“Jenna, I swear to you, I’m not making you wait for anything ever again. I’d marry you tomorrow if I didn’t think my mama would have me committed for running off to get married three days after our reunion.”

“You’d marry me tomorrow?”

“With bells on, babe. With bells on. I’d marry you right here, right now, in my beat up Longhorns jersey, and drive off into the sunset with you in my truck if you wanted.”

“I don’t know about that, Captain Seresin,” You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him as you felt his hands caress your sides, “As tempting as that sounds, we do have 17 years of lost time to make up for.”

“And I intend to make up for every single second of that with you, Jenna. Here, Chicago, San Diego, I don’t care. I just want you. All of you, completely and totally.”

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ssahotchnerr · 11 months

Note

hiii katie!! 🤭💞

you said domestic aaron requests so i thought i’d send you something that’s been on my mind all day! so when you see aaron you don’t really take him for a guy who would sing along to taylor swift songs, or watch romcoms or like idk know stuff about astrology…but then during conversations he drops facts related to these kinds of things and the team is like “how does he know that” LMFAOO but it’s all because his girl (you 🥰) educates him on the daily 🥰🥹🥺

- fay <3

rom coms

fay !!! AHH if y'all have seen how to lose a guy in 10 days i hope you enjoy this 🤭 cw; bau!reader, established relationship, playful fluffy banter <3

on the rare occasion a case finished early, and the jet wasn't scheduled to leave until the next morning, you'd all be stupid not to take advantage of a night out within a different, new city. somehow, this time, all of you had ended up at a basketball game, per derek's suggestion. and while it wasn't your usual scenery for team outings, the change of atmosphere was nice.

and the current setting gave you the opportunity to poke fun at aaron, which you would never deny, either.

as the clock neared the end of the game, you turned away from your conversation with jj.

"hey." you nudged aaron, getting his attention. he leaned down slightly closer, allowing you to speak more directly into his ear so he could hear you clearly. the crowd was loud, and you were also on the side of him consisting of his bad ear. "wanna get me a soda?"

there was a mischievous look on your face, while aaron's fell into his signature expression. however, there was a playful glint present in his eyes. he straightened up his posture before speaking. "very funny."

you feigned disappointment. "so... no?"

"nope."

"aaron pleaseeee." you jokingly whined, your hand clasping around his forearm and tugging on it gently.

"is this your way of telling me you want us to break up?" aaron arched an eyebrow, his lips pursed upwards as he attempted to hold back a smile.

you snorted out a laugh, rolling your eyes. "yeah, you got me there."

"well sweetheart, i think we're well past the ten day mark. so unfortunately for you, this tactic isn't going to work."

you opened your mouth to respond, but jj's voice came out instead.

"what did he just say?"

the team's undivided attention was present on the pair of you, nothing but quizzical, or slightly horrified (morgan), expressions on their faces. even spencer had ceased explaining all the mathematical aspects of basketball to dave.

"if you're asking, i think you heard me."

"yeah no i heard what you said, i just can't believe you're the one that said it." jj stated, bewilderment still present.

"contrary to popular belief, i don't live under a rock." aaron answered nonchalantly, loud enough for the whole team to hear. his hand also found your hip, giving it a squeeze.

he doesn't live under a rock, thanks to you.

"never knew you were into rom coms, aaron." dave pitched in. aaron simply shrugged his shoulders.

"next you're going to tell me the two of you have a love fern in your apartment." emily cackled which resulted in more laughter amongst everyone, but that dissolved as the conversation quickly came to an end; everyone's attention refocusing on the conclusion of the game.

and while you had full clearance to tease aaron, they knew better than to push their limits.

"hey, did you really want one?" after a moment, aaron's voice closely entered your ear this time, a softness to it. "because i will-"

"no, i don't." you interrupted him with a small laugh, pressing your lips to his cheek and looking up at him with all the love in the world. "you'll catch the end of the game, don't you worry."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner imagines #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you

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thefrontofmymind · 1 year

Text

Helping Hand (Matty Healy x Reader)

Requests:

hi! i just came across your blog and read both your matty works! if your requests are open could you write a friends to lovers with matty? maybe a confession with tension from not knowing the other’s feelings? –anon

Could you write a Matty Healy smut where he and the reader share an apartment as friends. Reader comes home pissed and Matty offers to ✨take care✨ of the reader for the night. Reader also has a praise kink – @kmsmedine

Prompt idea: “you know I can fuck you better, right?” With matty –anon

WARNINGS: piv unprotected smut, blowjob, a little bit of alcohol consumption (lmk if i missed anything)

The way you’d describe your life, in a word, would be bittersweet. You had your dream job, a great family, a gorgeous apartment, but there was one part that was missing, an important part–you lacked a connection, at least in a way that was satisfying.

You hated the idea that you were some kind of cliche–you had everything you ever wanted except a boyfriend, it sounded like some half-arsed romcom you’d find on DVD in some bargain bin at a Poundstretcher. Sure, you weren’t completely hopeless, you could get a shag if you felt so inclined, when you felt so inclined. But your heart was never in it. Because of one man, your closest friend in the whole universe–and roommate–Matty.

You’d spent years pining over him. From the moment you’d met him, you could feel your heart jump every time he’d look your way, and then crack and crumble when he’d look elsewhere. It wasn’t from lack of trying with him–the first year of your friendship you tried your damnedest to get him to notice you in the way you craved.

The nail in the coffin came with his first serious relationship–a lovely girl called Heather, or Hannah, or some name like that–you pushed the feelings to the very back of your mind as best you could, but they refused to stay quiet. You had many a crises over what to do. You loved Matty, more than a friend, and even more than a lover, he was your person and you couldn’t bear the thought of living without him, no matter how painful it would be to see him hold another’s hand, whisper in an ear that wasn’t your’s, see the way he smirk at other girls in clubs when they’d tell him what they wanted to do to him on the cab ride home–something you could never get the courage to do.

Though once you’d mourned the loss of what may have been, you realised what you did have, a man who knew you like the back of his own hand and would run to you the second he was beckoned, though just platonically.

Eventually you began to put yourself out there, started seeing other men–nothing serious ever came of any of them, but it was a distraction, nonetheless. You’d simply made your peace with the situation and resigned yourself to the fact that it would never change.

You figured you’d never get one of those looks from Matty that you’d seen made other girls’ knees wobble, and you’d certainly never get that close to him, and you’d simply have to make do with any distraction you could find, as hopelessly downcast it seemed..

It was late on Thursday night, very late. You weren’t home yet and it worried Matty–he knew you’d have left work almost an hour ago and you hadn’t let him know you were going anywhere afterwards–it was all very unlike you.

He sat in your shared living room on the sofa, laptop in front of him as he fiddled around with some demos that George had sent him, though he was immediately pulled out of it when he heard the front door slam shut and saw you huff as you walked to your bedroom. He quickly got up and followed you, concerned.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist then?” He asked you as he was greeted with the sight of you sat down on your bed, taking off your boots and eyes that were full of tears–a horrible side affect of being left with your thoughts on the walk home.

“I’m not in the mood for a joke, Matty,” you sighed, not wanting to make eye contact with him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” He was truly worried.

You took a second to collect your thoughts before you spoke. “Why is it that some guys just never learn, hey? Like they just do not care about the girls they’re fucking and don’t even try to give them attention?” Matty gave you a questioning look as he sat down next to you, seeing your wet eyes threatened to spill. “You remember that guy, Sam? The one I met at the work Christmas party last year?” Matty nodded. “Well, he asked me to go over to his after I got off work, and I went-uh-and he just doesn’t care.” You couldn’t stop the sob that came out as you finished your sentence. As if on instinct, Matty pulled you into his chest and let you cry, to which you had no protests. You had been building up for a while and it seemed you just couldn’t hold off the breaking point any longer.

“That’s so shit,” Matty said, holding you gently. “You deserve better than that.”

You sat in silence for a moment, you could smell the faint scent of weed and his regular cologne on Matty’s jumper.

You laughed. “Yeah, well it’s not like I really have any other prospects at the moment, so I’m just kinda stuck with Speedy Sam for now…”

Matty laughed with you for a second before his tone changed drastically. “C’mon, you’re a stunner! Surely you’ve got a lineup just waiting for ya?”

“No one else seems remotely interested…” You sighed. You knew it wasn’t productive to pity yourself the way you were, but you’d had a few glasses of wine at Sam’s so you couldn’t really help yourself.

“Well that’s just not true, now…” Matty muttered–under his breath but still loud enough that he knew you’d have heard it. You didn’t know how to answer him, you were simply gobsmacked–surely he didn’t mean what you thought he was hinting at? After all these years?

You tried to laugh it off, break the tension with some joke and asked Matty if there was any takeaway from the other night left in the fridge, but his face didn’t crack and he never broke eye contact, and that sobered you up really quick.

It felt like the earth had stopped turning and time had stopped ticking–it was just you and Matty at a stalemate in your apartment.

“Just something I thought about…” He mumbled as he got up and went back to the living room, leaving you wide-eyed and gobsmacked in your bedroom with a mind going a million miles a minute.

As if on autopilot, your legs carried you to the living room, standing right in front of Matty–who was ever-so unbothered and scrolling on his laptop. You didn’t quite know what to say, so you stood with wide eyes fixed right on him as you mulled over how you could ever respond in this situation.

“Can I help you?” He said, as if he didn’t drop a bomb on you merely a minute ago.

“You can’t just say that to me,” you said with a deadly serious tone that even took you by surprise.

Matty closed his laptop and stood up so you were eye-to eye. “I only said it because it was true.”

“Wha-” You couldn’t speak, all the air in your throat felt trapped, you couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be happening.

“You know I can fuck you better, right?” He said, without a microgram of hesitation nor taunting in voice, while his eyes stayed unwavering and staring into yours. “Better than that dickhead and any other guy you’ve been with since I’ve known you.”

You could barely stutter out an answer, you knew what you wanted to say–you had fantasies of a proposition like this from Matty for years, you’d resigned yourself that it would never happen and that was just something you had to make peace with. You needed to tell him, and now.

“Then prove it,” you said, a small waver in your tone, showing the sliver of trepidation.

Matty’s thumb lightly rubbed the side of your cheek, not breaking eye contact. “Can I kiss you?”

“I think you should,” you answered, feeling so much anxiety at this newfound revelation in your best friend and roommate.

His lips were ever-so soft against yours, giving you the chance to pull away, should you want to, but you didn’t. Without thinking, you grabbed the fabric of the collar of the hoodie he was wearing and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. You couldn’t quite process what was happening, your mind felt like mush as you lightly bit on his bottom lip, earning a stifled moan from Matty. You eventually had to break the kiss to get a proper breath in, as much as you wish you didn’t have to. You stayed close–nose-to-nose–as you caught your breaths.

“So your room or mine?” He asked.

You pulled him back to your mouth, this time with a bit more ferocity, and your hands quickly found their way to his hair as he grabbed at your waist. You both managed to stumble to your room–the closer one–without breaking the kiss. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be doing, and you were just glad it was finally happening, not just in your mind when you were alone and bored.

Matty quickly pulled away to take off his hoodie, while you rid yourself of the sweaty and dishevelled blouse you’d worn to work that day. Before you knew it, you’d gotten completely bare in front of him–you weren’t scared or worried or insecure, it was Matty, he knew you, so there was nothing for you to be afraid of, nor him.

He sat on your bed before you, you didn’t quite know how to proceed. You’d been through so many scenarios like this in your head, you were overwhelmed.

“C’mere, darling,” he said, holding out a hand to take yours and guiding you to straddle him–it all felt much more sincere and…intimate…than before–you finally realised this was real and it was happening.

Matty locked his arms around your waist as you began to kiss down his neck and into the crook of his shoulder, eliciting a breathy moan from the top of his throat. His hands began to wander down your back and he took grip of your ass cheeks as he kissed you again.

Your hands soon found their way to his cock, slowly giving it a couple of strokes before you readjusted so you could press a warm kiss to its head.

Matty’s head was spinning, never did he think he would ever have a chance with you, in the years of your friendship. He was simply too scared to say anything, and it got to a point that he’d come to the conclusion that he’d left that grace period of early-friendship confusion well in the past and there was nothing he could do about it, so he tried to move on–girlfriend after girlfriend, with as many pointless hook ups in between, but they all weren’t you. It was a miracle you hadn’t punched him in the face for what he said; he’d had a couple glasses of wine and it went straight to his head, giving him the confidence to do what he truly wanted to in the first place.

Matty sunk into a sea of ecstasy as your lips closed around him and his cock inched further and further into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat.

“Oh darling,” he barely managed to stutter out between moans as he gently grabbed a handful of your hair and your tongue swirled around his tip. “Ple-please just let me fuck you.”

“I think you should.” You said as Your mouth was replaced by your hand and you looked at his face to answer him–his lips parted and eyes almost completely shut from pleasure. You weren’t sure where the sudden confidence you exuded came from, but you were sure glad it appeared when it did.

Soon enough, you were once again straddling Matty’s lap, his cock rubbing against your entrance–you felt like your head was just about ready to explode from the anticipation.

“Are you ready, baby?” Matty whispered, leaving a trail of kisses from your ear to the crook of your shoulder. You couldn’t find the words to speak, so you let out a hum and a fervent nod, and that was enough for him.

You felt so full as each inch of him entered you, leaving you a moaning mess immediately. Matty was in a similar state, breathing deeply and trying to blink away the stars in his vision of you. You began to move, just a little, which made the pleasure increase tenfold–leaving you twitching and whining every time Matty hit your g-spot. He took hold of your hips, helping you bounce on his cock.

“So…so good…So good fo’ me…” he moaned, leaving you smiling to yourself.

As time went on, your legs began to grow tired, and Matty noticed as your movements slowed.

“Want me to be on top?” He asked in between feverish kisses wherever he could place them.

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “M’legs are getting sore.”

After some readjustment, Matty was now hovering above you, while one of your legs wrapped around his hip to keep him close. His thrusts were slower than you were expecting–going as deep as he could get. One of his hands was holding himself up from next to your head, while the other found its way to your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles on to the swollen bud.

It all just felt so comfortable, so natural–not at all like a first fuck, the two of you moved so in sync with each other, you’d think you’d been together for years with just how responsive you were to each other.

You felt your lungs get tighter as your breathing got shallower, and a tension began to grow between your thighs. You urged Matty to go faster, to which he obliged with a smirk that didn’t go unnoticed by you.

All at once, everything let go, and you were sent into orbit as you released–all the while moaning and whining which only spurred Matty on more, soon reaching his release as well before collapsing on top of you, fully spent.

The two of you laid there on your bed in silence for a little while, Matty’s softening cock still inside you. There was something so intimate about the whole situation, you couldn’t keep your eyes off his face as he caught his breath with a small grin on his face. You noticed freckles on his nose, faint lines around his eyes, things you’d never had the chance, nor the right before this, to see.

Eventually, Matty moved to face you before speaking. “That was…” He um’d and ah’d for a moment, trying to find the right words. “It was everything I’ve ever hoped it was.”

“Really?” You never thought of Matty hoping something would happen, and what it would be like.

“And more,” he added, kissing you again while you chuckled in the afterglow. You both began to drift into the lull of sleep in each other’s arms. “And I never want to hear about Speedy Sam again…”

#matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #matty healy smut

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