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darkbluekies · 3 months

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Make things right? Or make them worse?

Yandere!doctor (platonic to his children) x twin daughters ocs x female!reader

Summary: Dr Kry’s children finds out their fathers dark secret, and he's determined to silence them.

Warnings: toxic household, yandere, favoritism, guilt, poison, mentions of murder (things along this way)

A/N: I have created my own poison for this story, so I choose the effects. Lol.

Word count: 6.2k

“Bye, dad”, Lydia says and closes the car door.

Her twin follows out of the car, almost hides behind her like a shadow. Lydia frowns confusedly. She’s been more silent than usual this morning. They turn to walk into school.

“Girls”, Dr Kry says through the open car window, catching their attention. “I want you here at three sharp, okay? I’m not in the mood for waiting.”

“Yes, sir”, Lydia answers.

“Good. Have a good day, girls, I’ll see you later.”

With that said, he drives off. Lydia turns to Nadia who finally raises her gaze from her feet.

“What’s wrong?” Lydia asks and fixes her backpack. “You’ve been acting off all morning.”

“I have to talk to you about something”, Nadia says hesitantly and looks at her with uneasy eyes.

Lydia blinked and frowned. “What?”

“I was meaning to talk to you earlier, but I didn’t want to do it when dad was around.” Nadia glanced at the other students swarming around the school grounds. “It’s about mom … and her sickness.”

For as long as they can remember, their mother has been bound to her bed by a rare disease. Thankfully, their father is a remarkable doctor and has been caring for her ever since the twins' birth. He works at a hospital in the city and travels forty minutes back and forth every day, dropping the twins off at school on the way there, and picking them up on the wayback. When they were young, they were put in a private school carefully chosen by their father — who has been very active in the administration.

Their father is a complex person. Although they’ve been by him their entire life, they still feel like they don’t know him. He rarely talks about himself, and seem to have a human side for their mother only. Very rarely, there’s a soft side for the girls … often they’re met by a doctor, rather than a parent. Despite that, Lydia has always been a daddy’s girl, while Nadia has clung to their mom for love and comfort.

“What about it?” Lydia asks carefully.

“I heard something …”, Nadia starts and licks her lips nervously. “I heard these noises, from mom and dad’s room-”

“Don’t tell me you heard them have sex”, Lydia grimaces.

“No …” Nadia shakes her head, eyes shaking. “They were talking. Mom was crying and daad was standing by the bed, holding her cheeks in his hands like this …” She cups her sisters cheeks in demonstration, “...while saying: ‘you’re never going back there, I’ll never share you like that again’.” She shivers. “I-I don’t know what that was, but it made me feel really weird.”

Lydia frowns, trying to picture the scene in front of her.

“Are you sure that it wasn’t just dad’s weird love language?” she asks carefully.

“I don’t know”, Nadia sighs defeatedly. “Mom seemed … scared. She looked up at him with eyes full of terror. She could have had a nightmare or something, but dad’s voice- … it was awful. I don’t know how to describe it, but it sounded extremely dark.”

“We could try to ask her.”

“What if dad hears?”

“I could distract him while you ask, if that helps you ease your worry.”

Nadia smiles gratefully. “Thank you, Lyd.”

Lydia gives her an unsure smile and grabs her hand and they walk into school.

Like Dr Kry had asked them to, they stand by the gates at three sharp. His white car rolls over and the two of them jumps in, Lydia in the front seat and Nadia in the backseat.

“How has your day been?” he asks and drives off.

He always asks about their classes, teachers and friends. If there’s a small detail he doesn’t like, he makes sure to contact the school and let them know his thoughts. More than one friendship has ended thanks to his overprotectiveness and the twins has learned to dilute the truth enough for him to be able to swallow it. So once again, they answer in the way he wants to hear it.

The car drives from the city, gets off the highway and enters a countryside road. The dirt road is divided in the middle with grass, creating enough space for the wheels of his white car to roll forward. Here, nothing can be heard except the sounds of distant birds. Their white, edwardian villa is surrounded by a deep, dark forest, close to a gigantic sparkly lake with the closest neighbor being a kilometer away. Despite the isolating upbringing the twins have had, getting away from the noisy, stressful city to the empty forest always cleanse their brains.

The white, Scandinavian, edwardian aged, wooden villa appears behind the trees like a castle. The house has two floors with a green atticroof, and a bushy, blooming garden in the same color, two glass verandahs on either side of the house and a white fence around the garden.

The twins get out of the car. Nadia gives her a look and Lydia nods.

“Dad”, she says. “I’ve been feeling a bit weird these last days … I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Really?” Dr Kry asks and frowns. He closes the trunk of the car. “Who have you been around? Are any of the other students sick?”

“A few.”

“Nadia, are you feeling bad too?”

“No”, Nadia replies.

“Could you please give me a check up?” Lydia asks.

“Alright, come with me”, Dr Kry says and nods at her to follow him.

While they walk inside, their father and Lydia walks to the living room and Nadia sneaks off upstairs. She moves carefully to their parents’ room and knock gently on the door before entering. Their mother, you, is lying in bed with a book in her hand. You look as weak as ever. Nadia shivers.

“Hi, sweetheart”, you smile and puts down your book on your chest. “Did you have a good day in school?”

“Yes …”, Nadia mumbles and sits down on the side of the bed, unsure on how to start this absurd conversation.

“What’s wrong, Nadia?”

“What happened yesterday? WIth you and dad?”

You flinch. Your smile disappears for a moment for it to appear quickly again, but this time in a fake manner.

“Why did he say that?” Nadia asks carefully. “Why did he say that he wasn’t going to share you again?”

“O-Oh, that …”, you mumble with an embarrassed smile. “It was nothing, don’t worry about it. It was just some adult stuff that me and your dad were talking about.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, honey. Why? Did it make you worry?”

Nadia nods slightly. Y/N gives her a smile and takes her hand.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, there’s nothing to be afraid of”, you reassure Nadia. “Whatever happens between me and your dad is nothing you have to be afraid of. We will always put you and your sister first, okay? There’s nothing you have to be worried about. I love you, darling.”

“I love you too, mom …”

You hug her, and Nadia hugs back, but she can’t help but feel that her heart sinks. Something isn’t right.

The very next day when they’re left off at school, Nadia grabs Lydia’s arm.

“Let’s go to the hospital”, she says the second their father’s car disappears behind the corner. She holds up a metallic key. “I have the key to mom’s old room.”

“What?” Lydia asks in confusion. “Why?”

“I have a feeling that mom isn’t really sick and I have to take a look around in her old hospital room. Something isn’t right!” She clears her throat and lowers her voice. “Mom and dad met at the hospital and that he was her doctor, that much we know, right?”

Lydia nods, trying to follow along.

“Isn’t it weird that a doctor as professional as our dad decided to start a relationship with a patient like that?” Nadia asks, sounding unsure. “And wouldn’t he have done everything he could to make mom feel better? Shouldn’t she be better now? I just … I want to know if he has done something.”

“Do you really think he has?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know. But something isn’t right, and I feel that. Mom seemed to be put on the spot when I asked her about the interaction I had overheard. She seemed scared.” Nadia grabbed her hand in hers. “Please, Lyd, can we go there and just take a look?”

Lydia hesitates and glances at the private school behind them, contemplating the consequences.

“Please”, Nadia repeats. “If mom is getting hurt, I want to help her.”

“Okay”, Lydia nods.

With that said, they hurry past the school gates before a teacher has the time to catch them. They take the first bus to the state hospital their father works at and hope that he’s with a patient while they sneak around.

They hurry inside the hospital and keep their heads down to make sure that none of the working receptionists would recognise them and report to their father right away. They stay silent until they get into the elevator.

Once out, they sneak over to the door. Lydia stands guard as Nadia presses the key into its lock. The click from the key opening echoes in the empty corridor. Nadia’s hand hovers above the door handle. Her heart twirls around uncomfortably. In a moment, she will be in the room where their parents met, where something happened that made their dad take the decision of stepping over the professional line. If that was good or bad is yet to be known, but she can’t help but feel worried.

The room is empty, in more than one way. The spirits of old memories haunt the room and they leave a sour taste in the twins’ mouths. Lydia looks towards the bed. Their mother has been lying here for months with a sickness that has kept her bed bound for years. But what happened while she was here?

“What are we looking for?” Lydia wonders.

“Anything”, Nadia shrugs and looks around. “Whatever that can help us is fine. Journals, reports, notes — anything.”

They start to rummage through drawers, in binders and notepads. Lydia finds herself holding a yellow paper binder with their mother’s name written on it, in their father’s handwriting.

“Nad, look at this”, Lydia says and holds up the binder.

They put the binder on the desk and start to pull out papers. Every paper is written from the top to the bottom in ink.

“He has documented her every day …”, Lydia says, perplexed. She shakes her head in denial. “Every single day, every single hour. Obsessively. Look, every little detail is written down. ‘12:35, eaten an apple’, ‘16:52, took a shower’, ‘22:30, called for me on the telephone’. What is this?”

Nadia picks up another paper, a smaller, clearly supposed to be hidden between the other sides. She puts her hand over her mouth as her eyes widens.

“Oh no”, she gasps and drops the paper. “No, no, no, no …”

Lydia frowns, bends down and picks up the paper. Her heart sinks as she reads the note. It’s a single word, but they’re familiar with it. They’ve found bottles of it in the cellar and the attic multiple times, and when they asked Dr Kry about it, he answered that it was a substance to kill vermin.

“He’s poisoning mom”, Nadia whispers in horror and looks at her twin with wide, terrified eyes.

Lydia feels the air disappear from her lungs. Suddenly, she feels nauseous. She sits down on the rolling stool and tries to control her breathing. Nadia sinks down on the bed with her head in her hands.

“What the fuck do we do?” Lydia breathes out with her eyes staring dimly in front of her. She has never felt this empty before, this helpless. “What the fuck do we do now, Nadia?”

“W-We have to call the cops”, Nadia gulps.

“The cops? Nad, he’s our dad!”

“But if he hurts mom …” Her voice dies out. “We can’t let him take more years from her.”

Lydia nods and wipes the few tears that have begun to run down her cheeks. With shaking hands, she unzips her backpack and shoves the binder down. They will need evidence if they have to prove to the cops.

The door behind them opens. Both girls fly up from their positions and scurry over to each other. Dr Kry walks in and stops abruptly in the door.

“What are you doing here?” he asks quickly.

He’s trying to force a smile, but the red eyes of his daughters and the trembling bodies of theirs are all he needs to see, to know that they know.

“How fucking could you?!” Nadia screams.

Dr Kry hurries to close the door as she continues to shout through sobs.

“What’s your deal with mom?!” she screams. “How can you keep her like this?! Where’s your fucking conscience?!”

She thinks that she’s going to explode in pure fear, anger and sorrow. Dr Kry clenches his jaw and sighs heavily.

“Your mother is a very, very special person”, he says slowly, as if he is talking to a ticking bomb. “It is all a misunderstanding, girls, I will tell you everything at home. Come, we’re going home now.”

“We’re not going anywhere with you”, Nadia spits and stands in front of her frozen sister.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me.” Dr Kry rolls his eyes when they don’t answer. “You’re my daughters, and you are not yet of age, you have to come with me.”

Nadia wants to refuse again, but she doesn’t want to leave her mother alone with him, not when he knows that they know.

“Now”, Dr Kry decides.

Nadia picks up Lydia’s bag and gives it to her sister. It looks like Lydia is going to throw up any second now. Nadia takes her hand and they follow their father out of the room, and out through a back door. For the first time, Lydia sits down in the backseat together with her twin. They hold each others hands tightly and keep silent the entire car ride home.

“Girls, I never wanted you to see that”, Dr Kry sighs and tries to meet their eyes in the rear view mirror. “I- … It’s hard to explain. Your mother is a very special person who I’m very lucky to have met.”

Lydia squeezes her eyes shut, but she can’t keep him out of her head.

When they come home, Nadia drags her sister into the house.

“Girls, don’t go upstairs”, Dr Kry says in that same dark voice Nadia had heard him talk in a few days ago. “I want you to stay down here.”

They halt, suddenly too scared to move.

“I want you to help me with dinner”, Dr Kry says. “Come on.”

The twins glance at each other. Lydia starts to drag her sister to the kitchen. They help in complete silence. Lydia’s hands are trembling while she cuts cucumber and it slips, cutting a slit in her finger. She yelps and drops the knife.

“Oh, honey”, Dr Kry breathes out and grabs her hand. “You have to be careful.”

She doesn’t look at him as he washes her hand under the kitchen sink and puts on a bandaid. Her entire body is in fight or flight mode.

When Dr Kry takes care of the final touches, the twins scurry up to their mother. Your face drops when you see them.

“Why is he doing this to you?” Nadia asks thickly as she tries not to cry. “We found out.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, girls”, you say sorrowfully. “I wish that you never had to know.”

“Why do you let it happen?” Lydia asks quietly.

“I have no choice … I can’t do anything.” You lower your gaze and voice to an ashamed whisper. “I don’t have the energy to run away, and if I managed to, you’d be in danger and I’d be dead. Your father has the only antidote to his self made poison. It’s safer for everyone if I stay here.”

“But mom …”, Nadia whimpers, “... he’s hurting you.”

“I … I know, dear.”

The door opens behind them.

“Girls, dinner”, Dr Kry says shortly and nods towards the corridor. “Go downstairs.”

The twins turn to you, wanting you to make their decision. You give them a reassuring smile and they leave. You look at the man who has become your husband, much to your dismay.

“Why did you let them find out?” you whisper with tears in your eyes. “You promised that they would never know!”

“I didn't think that they would.” He wipes the tears that roll down your cheeks. “I’ll fix this mess. Don’t worry, darling.”

With that said, he tucks you in and leaves to go downstairs. The twins have sat down by the dining table with their blank, staring eyes turned down into the table. Dr Kry sits down and start to eat, without seeming to care at all about the incidents that happened earlier. Nadia stares down into her plate with disgust roaring in her stomach. If she eats, she’s going to throw it all up in a matter of thirty minutes. She closes her eyes and sighs sadly. Lydia tries to eat a bite, forcing it down her throat.

“Nadia, eat a little”, Dr Kry says.

“I’m not hungry”, she mumbles.

“You need to eat a bit. I won’t allow you to leave the table before you have eaten. Look at Lydia, she’s eating.”

Lydia feels her cheeks heat up as the attention turns to her. She’s suddenly embarrassed over obeying. Feeling exposed and naked under Nadia’s look of disbelief, as if she’s just broken a silent pact. But instead of saying anything, Nadia picks up her fork and takes a bite of the white rice. The twins can agree that this might have been the worst dinner they have ever experienced.

Nadia puts her hand over her heart and clears her throat. There's a heavy feeling over her chest, something almost suffocating. She looks to the side, seeing how Lydia is frowning as well, trying to clear her throat. Nadia think that she looks like she’s going to faint. She wants to ask her how she’s feeling, but doesn’t dare talk in front of their father, afraid to start a conversation.

After dinner, the twins decide to go upstairs, but their legs suddenly feel weak enough to break apart.

“What’s going on?” Lydia whispers and grips the staircase railing.

“I think that he put something in the food”, Nadia whispers back.

“I feel really sick …”

She falls down on her knees in the middle of the staircase, still holding onto the railing. Nadia hurries to pull her up again and drags her over to her bedroom, lazily tucking her in.

“Don’t leave me”, Lydia whimpers and grabs her hand before she can leave the room. “Stay … please. Don’t go. I'm scared.”

Nadia agrees, not wanting to leave. She climbs down under the covers of Lydia’s bed. They lay in silence and look up at the tilted, wooden ceiling. For every minute passes by, they’re growing more and more sick. Every muscle in their bodies seem to ache, twist and turn.

“He’s doing it to us too”, Nadia whispers.

They hear the lock on the door click and give each other terrified looks. Nadia stumbles out of the bed and feel the handle. She gulps in horror and turns back to the bed.

“It’s locked!” she says and breathes out in shock. “He actually locked it …”

“Come back …”, Lydia begs and reaches for her.

Nadia returns to the bed, crawls down under the covers and hugs her. She wraps her arms around her sister and rests Lydia’s head on her shoulder.

“I’m scared”, Lydia whispers.

“It’s going to be okay”, Nadia replies, although she doesn’t believe it herself. “We’re going to be okay.”

Dr Kry removes his tie, about to go to sleep.

“I can’t believe you …”, you whisper from the bed, with her eyes down at her trembling hands.

“Darling …”, Dr Kry sighs and turns around.

You raise your tone, but keep it hushed enough not to exceed the bedroom walls. “You promised that they would never get hurt! You promised that they would never get exposed to this fucking substance!”

“They haven’t … yet.”

“Yet?! Don’t fucking tell me-”

“They figured it out, okay? They heard our conversation and decided to check out the hospital for themselves. I underestimated their intelligence … and their love for you.” He sighs annoyedly. “I’m not going to let their lack of understanding break apart our family — that I have fought so hard for. I put something in their food to keep them still for a while. It’s nothing dangerous, little one. I promise you that.”

“If I knew that you were going to break your promise-”

“I had to.”

He is about to caress your cheek, but hears sounds coming from next door. One of the girls is banging on the locked bedroom door, and calling for him. Dr Kry excuses himself and gets out of the room. He walks over to Lydia’s room, where the noise is coming from. Quickly, he unlocks, finding Nadia leaning on the wall right next to the door. Her eyes are full with tears.

“What’s going on?” Dr Kry asks.

“Lydia isn’t waking up!” Nadia cries.

Dr Kry feels his body turn cold. He runs over to the bed where his other daughter is lying on her side, and he soon finds out that Nadia is right — she isn’t waking up. He shakes her, gives her gentle taps on her cheeks and lifts her up. Nothing wakes her. He has to take her to the hospital.

“Wait, where are you going?!” Nadia screams after him as Dr Kry carries her sister down the stairs. “She doesn’t want to be alone!”

“You have to stay here with mom”, Dr Kry says over his shoulder. “I’m taking care of Lydia.”

He hurries out of the house and quickly places her down in the back seat. Dr Kry’s usual forty minute drive to the hospital took only twenty five minutes this time. He picked her up in her arms and ran inside through the backdoor, and didn’t stop until their reach the room you have spent many, many months in. Dr Kry places his daughter down on the very same bed you have laid in. He placed an oxygen over Lydia’s mouth and nose, turning on the machine. He hasn’t felt this scared in a long time.

Finally, after an hour, Lydia opens her eyes with a small moan. Dr Kry hurries over to the bed and removes the mask.

“How are you feeling?” he asks her and brushes the hair out of her face.

“I feel really sick”, she whimpers.

“Do you need to throw up?”

Lydia nods. Dr Kry picks her up again and moves her into the bathroom where she hovers over the toilet for ten minutes. Dr Kry holds her hair back and grimaces sadly. He does feel bad for putting her through this, but he has to.

“There you go”, he says and puts her down on the bed again.

“Why am I here?” Lydia asks weakly.

“You weren’t responding when anyone tried to wake you up. I got worried, so I decided to take you here.”

“Am I going to die?”

Dr Kry scoffs out a smile in a weird sensation of deja-vu. He has heard that question a lot, in the exact same tone and manner, but from the generation before her.

“You’re not”, he reassures her and strokes her hair. “You know that I would never let anything happen to you.”

“Why am I feeling like this?”

“I put something in your food to make you and Nadia calm down, but you seem to have reacted badly to the substance … weirdly enough. Since you’re identical twins, i thought you’d react the same, but it seems like you are a bit more sensitive than your sister.”

“Nadia ate less than me.”

“Yeah, you might have gotten more substance in your body, which is why you feel worse. It’s going to be okay, I will not let anything happen to you.”

“But you hurt me.”

His smile drops and his hand stops stroking her hair. He knows that Lydia shares half of her mothers genetics, but he didn’t know that she would sound exactly like you. She has never heard you use these phrases, and yet Lydia has chosen the exact same wording that you have tortured Dr Kry with years ago.

“I didn’t mean for you to end up here”, Dr Kry sighs and continues to stroke her hair. “That was my fault, I admit that. However, I had to keep you and Nadia a bit sedated because of how scared you were.”

“Why did you use so much?” she whimpers.

“I was a bit shaky myself, I wasn’t meant to hurt you, Lydia.”

Lydia sighs shakily and sinks down in the mattress. She wants nothing more than to go back home, to Nadia, but at the same time she knows that if she goes back home, she will be locked in her room again. Continuing with life now that they know their father’s secret will be difficult.

“How long do I have to stay here?” she asks quietly.

“Until you’re feeling better”, Dr Kry replies and stands up. “For now, I think that you need to sleep. It’s late.”

That’s the last thing she wants to do. She has always been Dr Kry’s (not so subtle) favorite, and she has always had a preference for her father … but for the very first time, she’s afraid of him. She can’t trust him anymore, especially about her health. Being unconscious is the last thing she wants to do.

“I don’t want to”, Lydia says pleadingly. “I’m not tired … please don’t make me sleep, dad.”

Please don’t make me sleep. Your voice echoes in his head, in the exact same tone. Dr Kry knows that he did a million things wrong when he kept you here, and now he has a second chance to fix things.

“Okay”, he breathes out and sits down on his stool. “You don’t have to sleep, darling.”

Lydia gulps and looks around in the room, trying to imagine how you had felt while being here. She feels a heavy sensation over her chest, like a heavy stone. She couldn’t see the poisoned air purifier that was mentioned in the journal.

“Did mom lay here?” Lydia whispers.

“Yes”, he answers quietly.

“How long?”

Dr Kry looks down at his nails, eyes faltering. “A, uh … very long time. Many, many months.”

She starts to look around again. “Where is the air purifier?”

“It’s not here … it broke, a long time ago. I had to throw it away.”

“Do you still use that kind of thing on mom?”

“No, I don’t. Not often.”

But he has his new way to make sure you stay.

Nadia runs her hand through her hair. Her poor sister. What should she do? Dr Kry left the rooms unlocked, which means that she can move around. She drags herself into your bedroom. You look at her with wide, nervous eyes.

“Is she okay?” you ask and take Nadia in your arms.

“I-I don’t know”, Nadia responds shakily while shaking her head desperately. “She wasn’t waking up and …”

“She’s going to be okay. I know your father can all of those medical stuff … maybe a little too well.” You sigh and caress the seventeen-year old girl’s face. “It’s going to be okay.”

Nadia shakes her head. “No fucking way things are going to be okay! He’s a madman, mom.”

“I … I know.”

“We can’t stay here.”

“Where are we supposed to go, Nad? We have no car, nearest neighbor is a kilometer away and we have poison in our blood. Sweetheart, we can’t walk far.”

“Mom, we have to leave. We can’t stay here with this psychopath!”

“Nadia …”

Nadia sighs frustratedly and hides her face in her hands. Something has to work. The farthest she has seen you walk is out to the garden when they’ve had picnic evenings. You take her hand, removing it.

“Sweetheart … you know dad loves you, right?” you ask carefully. You don’t want her to hate her him, after all he is her father … but you have to let her know the truth, no more living in the shadow.

“Fucking doubt it”, Nadia mutters.

“He does. In his … own little way. But I need you to understand that he has sides that he hasn’t shown you … a-and I don’t want you to see those sides.”

Nadia’s face goes blank. You’re trying your best not to get swindled back into old memories, but thinking about that murderous side of Dr Kry brings you back to a time you much rather would want to forget.

“Mom?” Nadia asks blankly and almost shouts in panic. “Mom! What sides?”

“He … He is a very patient man, but he can't take as much as possible, so please, whatever you do … cooperate.”

“What does that mean? Mom?”

Nadia goes cold. That’s it, she thinks, they have to leave.

“Mom, get up”, she says and grabs the blanket before ripping it off. “Now. Before he returns.”

“Nad-”

“We have to try, at least. Please.”

You hesitate before getting out of bed. Nadia grabs your hand and try to pull you out of the bedroom, but everything around you seem to spin. Your entire body is heavy and aching in all the wrong places.

“Nadia, wait”, you groan. “If I’m going to move, I have to move slowly.”

“Alright”, Nadia agrees. “I’ll go get some stuff and then meet you by the stairs.”

Nadia runs to her room to collect her wallet and hoodies for herself and her sister, then runs to get your jacket. She meets you by the stairs, helps you put your jacker on and then start to lead you down. You’re terrified of falling.

“Nadia, I don’t think that this is a good idea”, you mumble and think back of your numerous escape attempts, all ending with someone losing their life.

“We have to, mom”, Nadia pleads. “I can’t leave you here.”

“What about Lydia?”

“I’ll figure something out afterwards.”

Nadia unlocks the front door and leads you out on the glass verandah. You’re filled with fear. What if you can’t walk? What if you hurt yourself? What if Dr Kry finds out? Your body won’t be able to take his anger. Besides, you have barely left the house in eighteen years — apart from a few car rides here and there — what if the world has changed to something you don’t like?

“Mom”, Nadia says slowly. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I’m terrified”, you admit.

“We will be okay.”

They start to walk along the dark countryside road. There are no streetlight this far out in the forest, but the moon lights up enough for them to see where the road is heading.

“It’s been years since I was outside last”, you say. “I think the last time I was out walking was in the garden, last summer when we had that picnic.”

“Have you ever tried to run away from dad before?” Nadia asks.

“I have”, you answer quietly. “A few times.”

“Did you ever succeed?”

“That depends on what you mean by ‘succeeding’, because I’m still here, aren’t I? But I got away a few times … the only problem was that he found me again.” You sigh, realizing that perhaps you shouldn’t have this conversation with your underage daughter. “Forget that. Where are we going?”

“We need to go to our neighbors. They have to help us.”

Nadia has only spoken to the neighbors a few times, because of how rarely they run into each other.

They only manage to walk a hundred meters before bright, beaming headlights light up in front of them. Nadia wants to flee into the forest — in case it happens to be her father behind the wheel — but can’t seem to pull you with her. The car stops and to Nadia’s horror, her father gets out.

“What the Hell are you doing?!” he shouts, sounding both angry and terrified. “Y/N!”

You freeze in your spot and seem to crawl together like a hurt dog, sounding like one too. Dr Kry runs over to you. Nadia watches in horror and starts to panic, wondering what she should do. Stay here with you and get caught in Dr Kry’s claws … or make a run for it to try to get help.

“I’m sorry”, you shriek in fear. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

Dr Kry hugs your shaking body in his arms and strokes your back, hushing softly.

“I know you didn’t come up with this stupid idea”, he reassures you. “Don’t cry, my dear, I'm here now. I know this wasn't your fault. I'm not mad at you. I’ll get you back home and I'll take care of you. It’s going to be okay.”

He helps you into the front seat. You don’t fight back in the slightest. Nadia looks back at the dark forest and gulps. Her eyes glues onto something in the backseat and realizes that he has come back with her sister!

“Nadia, get in, we've had enough of these childish outbursts”, her father tells her. “Get in. Now.”

“Is she okay?” Nadia almost stutters and points at her sleeping sister.

“She’s okay. If you don’t get in now, Nadia, I’m taking them both with me and you’ll never see them again.”

His favoritism has never been clearer, Nadia thinks. She can’t leave her sister … so she gets into the backseat. Nadia wakes her sister up and caresses her cheek.

“Are you okay?” she whispers quickly. “Did he hurt you?”

“I feel okay”, Lydia whispers back. “Just … tired. I had tro throw up a lot and I think that he gave me some sleeping pills or something. I insisted on going home … so he let me.”

Nadia breathes out. She glances over at the front seat. Their father holds the steering wheel with one hand and yours with the other.

“Please don’t cry”, he wishes.

Nadia watches on in disgust.

When they get back to the white villah, Nadia pulls her sister up to her own room and lays her down on the bed while Dr Kry takes you into the master bedroom.

“Here you go”, Nadia says and tucks her in. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“Some water”, Lydia says quietly.

Nadia disappears downstairs to get a glass of water. She meets her father in the stairs.

“Nadia, I’m not sure your sister will be able to leave her bed for a while”, he says warningly. “I wouldn’t try to leave, if i were you. If you do, I will take both of them with me, and you’ll never see them again.”

“Do you like to hurt your family?” she spits back. “What kind of sadist are you?”

“One to make sure my family stays with me. If you don’t want to end up in the same physical state as your sister and mother, you’re going to continue living as if everything is normal, got that? Go to school, come home, study, continue everything. No talking to anyone about this. Is that clear?”

“So everything as normal … but without Lydia?”

“Exactly.”

“Why aren’t you healing her?”

“Because I’m not going to let you, or anyone, take my family from me. Be glad that I’m still letting you live normally.”

Nadia glares at him and continues up the stairs. She holds the glass to Lydia’s mouth, watching her sip.

“What now?” she whispers.

“I’m allowed to continue living like normally … and you don’t”, Nadia says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“But … but I don’t want to live like mom!”

“I know. I’m sorry, Lyd.”

The girl in the bed sighs sadly. Naida takes her hand and gulps.

The coming weeks seem normal. Nadia goes to school, studies, returns to the villah, but nothing is the same. Without Lydia, there’s no use in being on top. She has no one to impress anymore. Her father is dead to her, and sucking up to him makes her sick. She barely talks to her friends anymore. They’re always asking her about Lydia, and why she’s not in school anymore. Nadia can’t come up with countless excuses … it’s easier to distance herself.

Life doesn’t seem that bright and colorful anymore. Nadia can’t bring herself to be excited about things that used to interest her badly. Now, every day is a chore, something she wants to get done, until something happens … but she doesn’t know what it is. A death in the family? Someone saving them? Someone killing someone?

Nadia walks out of school, seeing her fathers white car parked outside the gates, and him inside … waiting for her.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere fics #yandere oc x reader #yandere stories #yandere doctor #platonic yandere #yandere ocs #female reader #yandere oneshot #the younger generation

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charliemwrites · 5 months

Text

Awooooooo!

Your dog is weird. Just.. just weird. Like, all dogs are weird. They have their quirks and their oddities, silly babies in fluffy bodies.

Johnny though…

He snuggles up in your bed every night; you don’t even bother trying to kick him out. He’s presses up tight against you, head almost on your pillow. Have to start sleeping in a shirt because one too many unfortunately placed cold nose bumps…. Yeah. But that’s fine. The fuzzy space heater is worth it.

(So what if you sort of wake up sometimes and half-dream its skin you’re snuggled up to. If you imagine a more human rasp to the quiet snores by your ear. If the tongue on your cheek is softer and smaller than you’re used to….

Your dating life has been dry for some time.)

Johnny pees in every room of your house at least once, but that’s not entirely surprising - he’s an intact male, after all. (Something you’re trying to, heh, fix. Though the appointment mysteriously keeps getting moved or cancelled.) thankfully, though, once he’s “marked his territory” he starts asking to go outside.

And that’s where the weirdness begins.

The first time you let him out off leash, he shoots off into the woods and only returns once he’s done. You panic, feel so stupid and irresponsible, near tears by the time he gets back. When he sees you upset, say on the porch steps, he darts to your side and leans into you until you calm down.

You stop worrying so much about his little “trips”. Means you dont have to clean up after him to keep the yard tidy after all.

The first time he bounds off into the woods and doesn’t come back after a few minutes, you almost go searching. But.., but well he’s a good boy. An hour later he comes back, scratching at the door.

You’re not sure what he’s up to and it makes you anxious. Don’t like the idea of an “outdoor” dog. All of yours have been in-home pets kept in sight at all times. You’re scared Johnny’s going to get hurt or bitten or hit by a car.

But he always comes back healthy whole.

One hour turns into two, then three. Entire mornings, only returning in the evening to climb into bed. Eventually a whole day. You have someone install a doggy door big enough for Johnny to slip through so that he can come and go as he pleases.

You get used to having a pet that’s only around sometimes, though you sniffle that you miss him when he’s gone. As if understanding, he’ll always lick at you, comforting.

The other weird thing - he demands to climb into bed while you’re doing “self care”. Again, dogs don’t get human social boundaries. He’s allowed on the bed so why is it that he wouldn’t be allowed up even if it’s not bedtime? It’s understandable dog logic, even if you have to stop the first several times it happens.

Keeping him out isn’t an option. Even if you manage to shut the bedroom door on him before he wriggles inside, he makes such a ruckus. Barking, howling, knocking over the trash and scratching at the door. You almost step directly into a puddle of pee once.

You just keep the lights off, close your eyes, and try to ignore the odd brush of fur or gust of air from his nose. Pretend he’s not there at all; and not staring the way he tends to.

Not getting off just isn’t an option. You make your peace with your dog too dumb to even turn away.

(You also learn very quickly to wash your toys as soon as you’re done. Can’t even wait to catch your breath. Calling him nasty makes his tail wag. You know it’s not reasonable to think he’s doing it on purpose.)

“Johnny, drop it!”

Instead of doing that, he drops his front half low, a lacy black pair of underwear in his teeth. He snatched it right out of your laundry basket while you were trying to start the washer.

“I’m going to turn you into a pair of boots. Put those down!”

Chasing a giant wolf-dog for your panties is ill-advised but what are you gonna do? Let him shred your underwear?

“I wanted to wear those out tonight, you bastard!”

You’re supposed to have a date. At this rate, you won’t even be able to shower, never mind get ready. Johnny’s been a nuisance all day, ever since you got off the phone with your mom this morning, updating her about your life and plans for the evening.

Determined, you give up and go to finish the laundry - only to hear a crash and a yelp. Johnny’s knocked over the mirror and stepped in the glass.

“Oh, baby boy,” you groan. “Dammit, John-Bon.”

You text your date for a rain check, then call ahead for the emergency vet. Huh… your first aid kit is much better stocked than you remember.

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic

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caxde · 4 months

Text

drunken confession | steve harrington x reader

summary you're Dustin's older sister, a night out with you're friends makes you see that here might be more between you and Steve (7.5k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff (a lot), mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn friends to lovers, idiots in love!!!, mentions of alcohol use, tabacco and anxiety (briefly). and eventual smut (p in v, hj unproteccted) english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read!

“So, are you going out tonight?” Dustin asked once again, making you center your attention on him, you stop daydreaming.

“Um, I dunno. We’ll get some drinks, better if you don't wait up I think.” You answered, looking at him. Your brother always seemed like he had more to say, like there was always a puzzle, or an equation that he had to solve in the back of his mind.

“You’re gonna have to talk to mom.” He scuffed, almost like a laugh.

“What? Why?” Your eyebrows scratched as you asked, your shoulders got high, and so did your voice.

“She’s not letting you the car again if you’re out drinking.”

“Well, I’m not driving so…” You finished, letting the fork in your plate, the clinking of it ending the conversation briefly.

It seemed like it was going to be a quiet night anyway. Just you, and your friends, nothing unusual. Though you still didn’t know if you’d be drinking in someone’s house or out out.

Because those are two very different things.

If you were in someone’s house, you’d be calm, the lights won’t annoy you, the music won’t be too loud, and there won’t be too many people.

And you’d promised yourself that even if that happened, you weren’t going to overreact, because these things are normal, and it is okay. You're safe, in someone's house, and out in a club or bar.

Thankfully the bar was still empty when you arrived.

And the first round of beers went down pretty quickly.

So did the second one.

Nancy was excited. You could tell she was really happy, finally having received her acceptance letter to the college of her dreams. She couldn’t stop blushing every time somebody new walked into the bar and said congratulations.

Robin was as chatty as ever, as she normally was to be honest. You’d found out that Robin gets excited over other peoples’ excitement, and you often thought to yourself what a good cheerleader she would make if she wasn’t as clumsy as she is.

Eddie was quiet. It wasn’t unusual, not this early in the evening. He always gets more comfortable once he gets used to the people that are wherever you guys end up, and once he realises that nobody looks at him like he’s a freak anymore, in fact, since Corroded Coffin was gaining a bit of a reputation people tried to get close to him, talk to him. He’d never say it, but he loved it.

And, Steve.

Well, he was just electric. Something happened whenever you two were in the same place. He’ll participate in whatever conversation is going on at the table, but for a moment, however brief, he’d look at you, and you swear time would stop.

You didn’t know why that happened, you just enjoyed it.

And it was happening right now, as you were finishing your second beer, and he was already asking for the third round, his hand up with the empty bottle, once the barman saw Steve, he putted five fingers up, Steve nodded.

And as it always happened after two beers, you needed to go out, get some air and smoke. And as always, Eddie walked out with you.

“You doing okay Henderson?” Eddie muttered as he offered you his lighter, smoke already escaping his lips as he talked.

“Yeah, just thinking.” You answered quickly, just before lighting the camel you had in your pocket.

“You need to stop doing all that thinking.” He laughed, trying -with no success- to make you at least chuckle. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I think you already know if I’m being honest.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, pleading that he won’t make you actually say it.

“For what it’s worth, I think he’s just as much in his head as you are.” He admitted, as he took one long drag of his cigarette, almost gone now.

“You’re only saying that because you’re my friend.” You brush it off, not really ready to believe that he might be right, not wanting to believe him, in case he was actually right.

“And I’m also his friend.” He added, looking into your eyes, a soft smile in his face, and something else that you can’t recognise now. “And honestly, you two… something’s going on, it’s not hard to see it.”

“Nothing has happened. Nothing can anyway.” You add, as you throw your cigarette to the floor, stomping on it so it’s definitely put out.

“Why would you say that?” Eddie asks, his eyebrows raised, curiosity filling his voice.

“Because he still likes Nancy.”

Everyone had paid for one round. And you were now debating if you should go home or stay for a little longer.

Nancy wanted to leave, and so did Robin.

Eddie didn’t mind.

Steve wanted to stay.

And you weren’t sure why but so did you.

So, the table only had three new beers now, and a louder conversation.

The bar had filled up, and the music was louder now. So of course you needed to scream a bit to hear each other. Again you weren’t really talking about anything important, just enjoying the company they provided, and the warmth that you felt being in a space with your favourite people.

“Edds, I’m going out for a smoke break, wanna come?” You asked softly, the yellow packet already on your hand, trying not to feel nervous as you feel Steve looking deep into your eyes.

“Um, not really… I really need to take a piss.” He laughs a bit more than necessary, the alcohol finally taking him over.

“I’ll come.” Steve's voice finally could be heard. That stupid smile in his lips anytime he gets to spend quiet time with you.

“Come on.” You smiled shyly as you stood up, a bit too fast, feeling the alcohol all at once once you finally were out of your chair.

The cold air was the first thing that you felt, hitting you right in the middle of your chest, though you did not feel its coldness, at least not now. Not when he was right there beside you.

You’ll deny it every time somebody asks, but the way he lights the cigarette was hypnotizing.

His long fingers curving to stop the wind from blowing away the flame, his lips holding it tightly, his eyes looking down carefully so that he does not burn himself. And just the way his nose and parted lips would shine in a soft orange light once the flame was ignited, it made him look both peaceful and angelic. But honestly, that wasn’t the best part.

The best part of his little ritual came when he’d scooch over you, his face still -even if it was soft enough that he wouldn't notice- scrunched up, concentrating so that the flame wouldn’t disappear. His hands covering the end of your cigarette now, and he would look at you attentively, holding the lighter until smoke came out of your lips.

You didn’t pay attention to him in that moment -you never could if you didn’t wanna burn yourself- but if you did you’d see the way his eyes couldn’t stay away from the way your lips look.

And then, he’d always say and do the same thing.

First, he takes a step back, so he’s not actually so close to you in case it would annoy you, but his feet would stay pointed at you, just like his attention was fully with you, and the way you look up at him. her and her dove eyes. He thinks he could see them even if he closes his eyes.

Then his free hand would travel to the top of his head, retouching his hair once again, he does that right before he tilted his head to the left.

Then he always asks the same thing.

“So, how are you doing?”

And you’d always say the same thing.

“Good, I’m doing good.”

But really, you wanted to say.

“I’m always good when I’m with you.”

But it didn’t matter how much you'd drink, you never find the courage.

But for some reason, today, after he asked you how you were doing he kept talking.

“I’m not gonna lie to you Henderson, I’m getting pretty drunk today.” And he laughed. I could listen that laugh forever, you kept thinking. Though you didn’t need to say it, he knew it as soon as you smiled up at him and bite your lower lips as you looked at him.

It drove him mad.

“Honestly?” You asked as he kept laughing. He nodded and scratched the bridge of his nose with his thumb, cigarette still in his hand. “I’m getting drunk too.”

“Can I tell you something else?” He demanded, his eyebrows raising for just a second, your cheeks starting to hurt from just how much you were smiling. As soon as you nodded he lowered his head, and his voice. “It’s a really stupid thing.” He added, his words slurring a bit.

“It’s never stupid if you say it.” You say back. It always happened, when you were drunk you could not lie, and with that, you’d say things more sincerely, calmer and softer. Even more when Steve was the one listening to them.

“You look really pretty today.”

You were expecting everything but that. Your face lighted up, your eyes shined brighter and you didn’t even know your smile could grow wider. You shook your head and scoffed. A friendly and shocked reaction over such sincerity.

“You’re an idiot.” It’s the only thing you managed to say back.

But he knew you were happy. Just as much as he knew his heart had skipped a beat as soon as he saw your eyes squint for a second. It was becoming impossible to act normal around you, he realised.

You stayed there, under the cold starry sky, not saying anything, and it didn’t matter. You didn’t need to.

Once you finished smoking in such a comfortable silence it was hard to go back inside, but even if you wanted to stay in that quiet moment, you headed back, only to find Eddie deep in a conversation with a girl you didn’t know.

Well, it wasn’t really a conversation, more so he had his arm around her waist and was following her out.

Steve laughed in shock first, after looking at you.

“Guess that means we’ll have to drink his beer.” You add in a chuckle.

Your body was all warm and fuzzy. You weren’t going to drink anymore.

But Steve seemed to keep going, you weren’t sure why, probably just the habit, oblivious to you, it was to calm his nervous thoughts.

The bar was about to close, and that meant that it was getting quiet again, no need to scream anymore.

“Your ears get red when you’ve had enough to drink.” You point out touching the tips of Steve’s ears, brushing his hair behind them. You were giggly and touchy, even more so now that no rational thought was in your brain.

“Well… so does your nose.” He replays back, his eyes softer, as he lets his index finger touch the tip of your nose. “bub.” He adds. You’re not sure if he says it as a reaction to touching it or as a pet name, but you don’t care either way.

“You’re wasted Harrington.” You giggle as you say his last name, your hands travelling down his neck, into his chest, falling clumsy -but softly- into his lap. He loses his breath for a second as he lets himself enjoy the way your skin feels against his.

“Like father, like son, right?” He half jokes as he raises the beer he still is working on finishing.

“What?” You shake your head at him. “No, no way. You look just like your mom.” You add. Your voice feels like a soft song to him at that moment. People never tell him that he looks like his mom, even if he always wanted that.

“You’re the first person to say that, y’know” He confesses, his hand now resting on his hand, his eyes looking deep into yours.

“Well… It’s true. Your mom’s beautiful, and so are you.” Your cheeks go red as soon as you realize what you just said. Though you mean every word of it.

“You think I’m beautiful?” He asks, for a second it seems like he’s mocking you, but you know him well enough to know that he’s just shocked at the way you say things, so truthfully, so honestly. You always have the ability to leave him speechless.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” You sound more sure of yourself now, as you snatch a little beer from his bottle, he looks at you with his eyebrows raised, surprised and in absolute awe of you.

“Not handsome?” You shake your head no as you giggle a bit at him, “Beautifull” He elongates the last L, a grin appearing on his lips.

That stupid Steve grin.

“Beautiful people are soft and kind. Not just on the outside, but all of them. That’s you.” His whole expression softened, even more if it was possible. His eyes were a pool of honey and coffee, and they could not stop looking at you, with pure adoration.

“You’re the one being an idiot now.”

You giggled as you felt the last sip travel down your throat, you nodded before looking back at him.

“They’re closing, we should go.” You point out once you see the lights of the bar light up. The universal sign that the night had come to an end.

The ride home was always fun, and worth remembering, every single one.

This one however, was special.

Your hand rested on the back of his head, playing with his hair lazily, not really thinking about it. It felt nice, and it was the closest you could be to him.

That’s what you thought anyway.

What you didn’t expect was Steve deciding to let his hand rest on top of your thigh, not striking it, not squeezing it, it just rested there. His thumb drew a repetitive pattern, a kind of gesture that to you meant I’m here, but to him it screamed I don’t wanna leave.

Once he stopped the car in front of your house, he whipped around to look at you. Once again, he said nothing. He just looked at you. You knew what Robin would say if he saw that, probably something like stop admiring at each other and go to bed, please?. Eddie would probably just laugh and give you a little shove. But right now, the only thing that escaped your lips (that might be trembling because of your nervous heart, or maybe it was because his hand was still in your thigh, and yours was still on the back of his neck) was a soft “Thank you” And he just shook his head, a its nothing gesture.

Though you weren’t ready for him to get out of his car once you were already on the steps of your house.

“You okay Steve?” You asked as you saw him approaching.

He didn’t say anything.

He just hugged you.

It had never felt like this. His hands holding you closer than ever, his head resting on the nape of your neck. Of course you returned the feeling, holding him thigh, not wanting to let go. Your head rested on his chest, and you could smell every inch of him. Aftershave, a deep cologne, the beer that you had drank and cigarette smoke. You closed your eyes for a second, trying to memorise how it all felt, how his respiration slowed for that moment, how he took a deep breath before letting you go and how he looked down at you, his honey eyes shining. His cheeks a bit flustered, and you're guessing that yours are too.

“Yeah. Good night honey.”

honeyhoneyhoney.

“It would just be a quick drop, you wouldn’t even be five minutes late I swear!” Dustin whined again. He knew he was getting you annoyed, and frustrated, he could tell by the way your eyebrows were scrunched up and your nails were getting buried into your waist, holding tight onto something so you wouldn’t snap at him.

“It’s not about dropping you off, it’s just…” You always had trouble communicating when you were like this, when your thoughts were going faster than your actions, when you got overwhelmed by things that nobody seemed to get overwhelmed by. “I’m supposed to go to Edds show, and I really don’t want to be late, because if I am, I might not find them and then that would mean I-”

“They’ll wait for you.” He looked down at the floor, his hands had his fingers intertwined, the same anxious tick you had, it looks like he inherited that too. “Please? Will goes back to California in a couple days and we really want to finish his campaign.”

You nodded, you understood the need to see someone, a friend. You know how much Dustin misses Will when he’s not around. He nodded back, and he sat on top of your bed. Happy. Calm, not pushing your buttons anymore.

“So… Who’s going?”

“Where?”

“To Eddie’s show.” He gestured with his hands, a weird look in his face that you had no time to get into.

“Um, Robin and Steve.” You add back, your voice a bit higher in pitch, turning your back so you can look into your closet, hoping to find something that might work. Your indecision -you often think- is the worst thing that happens to you. “Nancy was supposed to come but she said something came up, so…”

“She didn’t tell you?” The tone of his voice made you turn fast to him, a shocked honesty that makes you wonder.

“Tell me what?”

“Her and Jonathan got back together.”

“Oh.” oh. “How do you know?” Your ears were ringing, poor Steve you thought. Poor heart-broken Steve, the only thing you ever wanted for him was for him to be happy, it didn’t matter with who, as long as he actually loved the person and was loved in return.

“Steve told me.” Even if your little brother’s voice was calm, he was still looking at you with that same look. The one he uses when he’s trying to gather information, seeking a reaction, and if you were being honest, he was getting one.

“Is Steve okay?” You needed to know, because right now it was all you could think about, about the kind boy that deserves to be loved, even if it can’t be by you.

“You’re kidding? He helped Jonathan get her back!” That confused you even further, why would Steve help him get the girl he’s in love, get together with someone else. You turned back and started grabbing different tops and shirts and laying them above the bed.

“Why would he do that? Isn’t he like, in love with Nance?” The way he started laughing made your shoulders tense for a second, jumping at such a reaction. “What are you laughing for?”

“He’s not in love with her! Jesus, you can be blind sometimes…” The palm of his face brushes his face as he looks at you, a puzzled look still on yours.

“I don’t know what you’re on kid, but I need to get ready and have no clue what to actually wear so…” He picked up the white tank top and threw it to you.

“You’re an idiot sometimes, you know that?” Dustins i’m much clever than you tone came back as he stood up. You rolled your eyes at him and gave him a petty smile.

“Yeah, I’ve been told.”

As you parked outside where Eddie was playing, a few minutes late, you grew nervous. The parking lot was full of cars, and finding a spot took longer than you anticipated, so by the time you found a spot and got to the entrance, the queue only seemed longer and longer. People standing in a not-so-neat line, chatting amongst themselves, shivering away the coldness of the night. Cigarette smoke and off-key lyrics filled the ambient of the people pulled away.

You realise at that moment, you didn’t have a ticket.

Steve and Robin had gotten in with Eddie.

And you had no idea how to get in, so you took a quick lap to see if you found someone, anyone.

Thankfully for you, Steve was by the entrance door, chatting away with one of the security guys. Even if Steve was tall, and had a wide back, the man talking to him toward over him, it almost made you giggle, seeing him as someone smaller, when he usually was the one that filled the room, even with just his presence.

As you walked to him, smoke escaping your lips and a scent of burnt smoke following you, you remembered the conversation you had with Dustin. And still, you didn’t believe him, at least not until you saw the way his demeanor changed when you approached him, and a relieved “Steve” came out of you.

Steve lost his breath for a moment.

You looked truly angelic, and you didn’t even need to try. You in that white tank top that made your breasts appear larger, more exposed than they’re usually are, your hair down, letting the left side of your neck free, as the wind blew, and your jeans hugging every curve of your body. It drove him mad. Even worse, he always loved when you wore red lipstick, like tonight.

Of course he wasn’t in love with anyone but you.

But you didn’t know.

The same way he didn’t know just how much it drove you crazy when his shirts hugged his arms like that, his veins more prominent when his arms were crossed on his chest. His hair always seemed to float, like it had a gravity of his own, but that single strand of hair that felt in between his eyes made you focus on him more. His soft honey dark eyes that were only looking at you, half lidded and full of adoration. It drove you crazy.

Of course you weren’t in love with anyone but him.

But he didn’t know.

Just like you had thought until a few hours ago that he still loved, or liked Nancy, it wasn’t until he had picked up Robin a few minutes ago that he didn’t find out that what you had with Eddie was purely platonic. Robin had laughed just as much as Dustin did, and called him an idiot all the same. But still, you both thought that your feelings weren’t returned, because that would be too perfect to be real. Impossible, just a dream.

However, the way your name sounded when Steve said it made you forget about everything else, and just focus on him.

A quick hug, not like the one he had given you that night he had driven you the night after you’d spent your entire night in a bar. You had come to realise, he became braver once some time had passed, and so did you.

So you headed inside, where Robin was waiting for the both of you in the bar, a warm welcome and a big cheers with some beers that you grabbed as you moved further into the pit.

The crowd was electric, everyone cheering for the show to start, eager to sing along with the band. You followed along, screamed when Corroded Coffin finally came on stage, whoo’d Eddie when he asked How are you doing Indianapolis and laughed when he admitted that he missed saying how are you Hawkins.

Robin cheered the loudest and it made Steve laugh. One of those authentic, closing your eyes and holding your stomach kind of laughs. You thought that it was one of the highlights of the night already.

But as these things often go, once Eddie’s band was over, and the next one came, the bar got even more crowded, and the lights felt brighter, and everyone seemed to be looking at you, judging or god knows what. Everyone seemed to bump into you, and you had already pulled the glue out of your empty cristal bottle on both sides. Breathing was becoming a hard task, and so did hearing anything that was being said to you.

“Honey” You heard Steve as soon as you felt his warm hand on your shoulder. You looked up to him, a haze in your eyes.”Are you okay?” He halved screamed into your ear, his breath lingering into your skin.

You pull him closer for a moment, afraid he might not listen.

“Too many people.” You’re not sure if he could hear you, or what he could do. You try even harder to relax your breathing, to stop looking around. But it all ends when you feel his fingers intertwined with yours.

You look up to him, he just nods to Robin who nods back at him, and he starts walking to the back of the pit, the lights seem to not burn anymore, and the people are few and far between. He just stays there, with you for a second before he opens his mouth. Looking at you and the way your eyes are scanning every single person in the room, looking for something that you don’t know what is.

“Honey?” There it is again, the soft worried Steve voice, his attention only on you.

You look back at him, as you feel his hand grabbing yours thighter. He’s the only thing you’re looking at now.

“Do you need to get out? Get some air?” He knows you won’t actually answer, but takes the nodding that you do as a clear enough sign.

The creaking of the door and the friendly doorman brings you back down to earth, and so does the wind hitting your chest.

“Better?” He asks again, desperate for some sort of confirmation from you.

“Yeah, I just- Sorry…” You sort of mumble, more to yourself than to him.

In that moment you realise that your hands are still tangled together, and the blood rushes to your cheeks as soon as you look down at them. They fit together so naturally, you think. Like a missing piece of a puzzle.

“Don’t apologize. We’ll stay here as long as you need, ‘s fine.” You instinctively bite the inside of your cheek as you nod at him, a soft smile, a thank you of sort appears on your face, as does a grin on his.

Without letting go of you, he reaches down into his jeans front pocket, and takes out a box of Camel, offering you to take one. Smoking might be bad for your lungs, but it does help with regulating your breathing, and he knew that’s just what you needed, and honestly, you were craving one, so you nodded again, searching for a lighter with the cigarette already in between your lips. Before you even find it, you feel the warmth of fire close to your mouth, and you just inhale the smoke.

“Thank you…” He shakes his head, as he inches closer to you, the same strand of hair falling between his eyes again.

“There’s no need for that.” He whispers, his words just as sweet as he is. His free hand pushes your hair behind your ear, and falls slowly to the nape of your neck, letting it rest there for just a second, his thumb stroking the end of your jaw in soft short motions, holding you up so you look at him, your doe eyes looking deep into his, he swears he could melt right here and there. You were driving him crazier everyday with the way you looked at him.

For a second there, he thinks you might even love him back.

“I just don’t know why I get like that, when there’s so many… I dunno” you scoff off, as your shoulders shrug ever so slightly, enough for him to catch, enough for your hair to move again and let the smell of your shampoo reach him. “I’m okay, don’t worry.” You say with a smile.

He looks deep into his eyes, looking for any sign that you might be lying, he doesn’t find any. And he likes to think that you’re better because of him. It's funny how right he is.

“We can stay here as long as you need.” Steve reasures you once again, getting closer again. Your body and his only a push away from touching.

“You’re always so sweet to me.” You’re thinking out loud now, you bite your lower lip as soon as you see him mask his blush with a soft chuckle, as his grin deepens, and you stop for a second to look at his pretty pink lips. You even let yourself imagine what it would be like to kiss them.

Steve debates what to do next. He knows you’re not lying, he knows that you’re being sincere and truthful. He can tell by the way your eyes are half lidded, looking at him like you’re in the safest space possible -even when you’re actually outside downtown Indianapolis- so in the end, he just wraps his arms around you. And he holds you even tighter when he feels you wrapping your arms behind his neck, and the way you stand on your tiptoes so you can hold him closer, your leg between his, his hands playing with the ends of your air. He breathes you in, intoxicating himself with the way you smell. You’re worried he’ll feel just how fast your heart is beating. But you’re too occupied smiling deeply and sincerely.

He feels safe.

Yes, there might be some butterflies, but they’re not nervous ones, it’s all just calmness. Love even.

He ends up paying for your drinks, and you spend the night dancing at the back of the pit with Robin and eventually Eddie joins you. You laugh, and dance around, sing the songs off key with Robin making Eddie laugh as he joins you. Admiring the way Steve covers his face embarrassed, that the idiots causing the whole club to cheer you on as you move are indeed his friends. But what makes you have the deepest smile is everytime you catch Steve eyes, thay always seem to be on you. He even dances with you a couple times when Robin or Eddie go away to the bathroom or to grab more drinks.

You don’t care because he is here and everything feels right.

But the night was coming to an end, and you still were buzzing with energy.

Even outside, where the cold wind wrapped around you you were still singing and dancing until Eddie started speaking.

“Steve, can I take your car?” He asks, and it makes you all turn around and look at him.

“What for? Where’s your van?” Robin followed, her voice raised a little too loud.

“I think Gareth might have taken it.” Eddie explains as he points at his van driving away, with Gareth in the driver’s seat. You can’t help but laugh a bit, stopping slowly as you feel Steve laying his arm around your shoulders, you let yourself think of it as an embrace. Or maybe he was just cold.

“Who’ll drive me home?” He mutters as he searches for the keys in his pocket.

“I’ll drive you.” You say, looking up at him. Steve’s eyes shine brighter, with that look. A look you have only seen in him once before, long ago.

“Sure.” He mutters, a grin in his face. “You won’t kill us?” He jokes as he pushes some hair away from your face with the hand that rests right where your neck meets your shoulder.

“I’ll come with you” Robin mumbles as she approaches Eddie, her eyebrows raised.

Steve knows that if Robin could talk to him now she would plead with him, to actually make a move. He decides that she’s right.

“Alright, let’s get home.” Eddie winks at you, a look that begs you to be careful. He grabs the keys that Steve throws him, the jingle of them making you realise that this was actually happening.

You blame it on the alcohol. But you have to admit that holding his waist was something you have wanted to do for so long its feels fucking angelic once your fingers touch his skin, under his shirt, right above the seam of his jeans.

Steve chews gum when he’s nervous, and the minty flavor, or maybe the amount of beer inside his system makes him say the most stupid thing ever.

“Do you like gum?”

“Yeah”

“You want some?”

“Sure.” You stop, expecting him to reach down his pocket and grab the small packet. You part your lips open expecting him to do so. Instead, Steve in a bold move opens his mouth and pulls you closer.

Before you can even process what he’s doing, his thumb reaches your jaw, opening your mouth a bit more for you, and you see the way his tongue places the minty gum on your lips. You had closed your eyes. Thinking he was going to do something else.

It had made you nervous and weak all the same. You can’t help but think, as you take a few steps, your hand holding even tighter onto him, that was one of the hottest things you had ever seen.

It got better.

After a few steps he talked again. His voice sultier, deeper. His eyes somehow were darker, but still looked like they were full of adoration for you.

“Does that gum still have some taste on it?”

“Yeah, minty” You manage to say.

“Can I have some?”

This time around, it's you who grabs him. And you can feel the way he smiles at that, and the way his fingers hold your face up again to meet him. This time it’s you who gives him the gum back.

Only, you place it between your lips, and it's his tongue that gets it.

In that moment you know, you’re fucked.

And so does he.

“Honey?” He asks as he sees you pulling into his street.

The whole drive back home had been exactly like the last time. Except this time the way he would caress your leg felt hungry for your touch back, and your fingers would end up intertwined, singing the songs that came into the radio, not really paying attention, all of it focused on the way he was playing with your fingers.

“Mmmh?”

“My car keys may have been chained to my house keys.” He admits, embarrassed, as he covers his face. You can’t help but look at him and laugh a bit.

“S’okay, you can sleepover.” He nods and you change directions.

And before you know it you’re already parked, and he’s already following you inside.

That’s when it hits you.

Steve is in your room.

Steve is sleeping over in your bed.

Steve had practically kissed you.

whatthehellisgoingon

You shake your head, not wanting to read too much into things that haven’t and might never happen.

“I uh… I’m going to change.” You whisper, a bit of shame could be felt on your words, and Steve just nodded, lost in the sight that was you in your room. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I… Usually just sleep with my boxers on.” That confession made you blush and bite your lower lip as you nodded. Not really knowing what to do or say.

So you just turned around, you took off your bra, tossing it on the floor before you took off the white tank you had. You reached for your sleep shirt. An old grey shirt that was way overdue to throw away, but it was long enough and soft enough that you felt it was perfect for sleeping in. So, Steve just enjoyed the show.

He stayed there, watching the way your body moved. He was the one that had his eyebrows raised, his chest racing and his cheeks flushed. He was lost in you. And you were painfully obvious that he was looking, maybe that’s why you take a bit longer to take off your tank top before putting on the gray shirt. Maybe that's why your heart skips a beat when you hear the sound of his belt hitting the ground at the same time that his jeans did. While you took your own jeans off, he took off his shirt.

You knew you had to turn around now.

And as you did you go lost in him.

Him standing there, in nothing but his black boxers, framing all of him. Him and his chest with some hair, trailing all the way down to his waistband. That was an image you probably would never be able to forget.

He took the first step. A soft grin appears in his lips once again. As he pushes the same flock of hair behind your ear, you can't help but tilt your head into his touch. He takes another step forwards, and just looks at you, deep into your eyes. You both chuckle, nervously at the situation, and like before, he holds you. Thight. Only this time, you can feel him against your leg. It makes you press your own legs together a bit more.

Once he lets go, you slide into the bed, and he closes the lights, following you closely.

“Is it okay if you hug me?” You ask.

“Mmh.” He’s at a loss for words.

He cuddles you, feeling you closer than ever before. And one of his hands gets lost into your thigh, right where your waistband meets your skin, tracing it. Softly. It drives you insane. Steve’s breathing into your hair, and you can feel how his breathing is fastening, just as much he can feel yours, by the way your stomach goes up and down. He can’t help himself anymore. He leaves a wet kiss on your neck.

That’s all it takes.

You turn around and you know you’re fucked. You can’t hold yourself anymore. You explote.

You kiss him.

The way his lips press against yours feels like he really wanted this, maybe even as much as you did. Your body pulls him closer, and his leg finds itself tangled in between yours. He’s lost in you and the way your mouth feels. He bites your lower lip, softly. And as soon as you feel the tug a soft whimper escapes your lips. Steve melts into you even more, his legs putting pressure in that spot between your legs that is already throbbing for him. Your hands find the back of his neck, and become buried into his hair. His soft chestnut hair. His hands begin to train up, inside your shirt. Holding your waist harder than before. Another moan escapes your kiss swollen lips, and he grunts in return.

He tries to memorise you, and the way you look like now. To him, you’re a goddess fallen from the sky, and he’s the lucky one.

He climbs above you, tracing kisses down your neck, as his hands travel up, up enough to meet your breast and press down, even carefully he’s strong enough and skilled enough to pinch your nipples, making them hard. And your legs wrap around him, and you can’t quite believe just how big he’s gotten just from kissing you.

His hands take off your shirt and as soon as he looks at you he’s a goner.

“Fuck, you’re beautifull honey.” He groans. A deep voice you’ve never heard from him.

It makes you pull him closer. And he starts to move, his cock and your clit being only separated by the small fabric between you both.

“Can I-” He cuts you off as he looks up at you, stopping the trail of kisses he wanted to finish on your left breast.

“You can do anything you want to me honey”

You can’t help yourself. The wetness patch only growing on your thong. You needed him, but you were so desperate to touch him, to see him.

You flipped him around, leaving him laid on your mattress, his hands up in shock. He’s surprised by you in the best way possible.

You were the one kissing him senseless now, as you grind on top of him. HE grew harder and stiffer with every time your clit pressed against him. His hands grabbed your ass in that moment, hard and burying his fingers as deep as he could. You wasted no time kissing every beauty mark that you could see, slowly going down his stomach, his breath shortening, sucking in and groaning your name in the most delicious way you have never heard anyone say it.

Your hands found the hem of his underwear and pulled it down. He was so big. His pink tip already wet with pre-cum, and it was all because and for you. Your eyes widened with desire, you had to taste him.

So you did.

It only took a lick for Steve to shiver, and that made nothing but turn you on even more. His hand had now started to press on your clit through the fabric. It didn’t matter, it felt too good.

So, as you looked deep into his eyes, you wrapped your lips around him, and you went down.

Steve had never been more desperate, the eye contact, you and your pretty doe eyes looking at him like he was the only thing in the world.

His fingers had pushed your thong to your side, and started messing around your entrance, it wasn’t until his waist flinched forward, making you swallow him whole, that he didn’t actually finger you.

But once he did, he couldn’t stop, and neither could you.

The way you moaned, with him still inside you, the way your waist moved, letting him get more aces into you, it drove him mad, he needed you, like really needed you.

“Steve, please” You begged.

That’s all it took.

His hands took off your thong and pulled you up, he kissed you deeply, his tongue getting lost with yours. Your soft lips fit perfectly with his, and the wetness of his cock still in them.

He was above you again. Three fingers in, your legs already up, he had you prepared you enough for him to enter, but anyway, when you felt the way his cock slided into you, your walls tensed up for a second, and you both moaned as soon as you felt each other.

“God, you feel so nice honey” He whispered into your ear before biting it.

Your legs wrapped around him, tightly, and your hands were on his back, pushing him deeper. He wanted to go slow, but seeing you so helpless, so needy for him, made him pick up the pace. With every thrust, your eyes rolled deeper into your head, your muscles relaxed, and your feet were pointed.

The warmth of his skin felt so good against yours you felt as if it would never be enough, even if you wanted to scream his name, you couldn’t. Everyone was sleeping. So you did the only thing you could.

“I’ve wanted you for so long Steve '' You whispered into his ears in between thrusts. You felt how his head hangs lower after that, his back arched so he could reach even lower. And when you thought he was as deep as he could, he placed an arm behind you, reaching that place that even you couldn’t.

“So have I honey.” He admitted before kissing you, a deep, wet kiss. Followed by many more repressed moans and loud groans. “I’m all yours.”

“I’m all yours” You repeated.

He grabbed your leg and pushed it up, he was so deep now you could feel him everywhere. You were lost in him. The way his hair bounced, the way his eyes looked at you, his lips swollen because he couldn’t and wouldn’t stop kissing you.

He was a goner. And so were you.

You hadn’t come this hard in so long.

You melted into eachothers arms.

You had a silent moment, where it was all soft kisses and caresses. You couldn’t quite believe that that had just happened.

Or how good it had been.

“I meant it.” You heard him whisper, his lips pressed against your ear.

“What?”

“I’m all yours.” He repeats. Leaving a kiss in your hair. “I’ve always been.”

“I mean it too.” You let him know, your nose brushing his, your fingers tangled with his. “I’ve liked you for so long, my love.”

He laughs a bit. Maybe it was the confession he had just got out of you, maybe it was because you had just called him my love.

“God, me too.” He finally admits, a weight being pulled away from his chest. “But I thought you had a thing for Eddie.”

“And I thought you still loved-” He shuts you up with a kiss.

“We broke up because I was falling for you.” He finally admits.

You can’t stop smiling or kissing.

You don’t think you ever will.

if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3

requests are open

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norrisleclercf1 · 2 months

Note

possessive/obsessed! Lando x Leclerc!reader

A/N: I'm running out of things to say, can you tell

"Why should I have to explain my reasoning for having my girlfriend in my garage?" You had to control yourself, you couldn't roll your eyes or else you and Lando would have a serious argument on your hands.

Taking a deep breath you lean back into the passenger seat. "Lando, I understand you want me there, but I want to be there for Charles, it's our home race. I'm going to be with my brother." You say it like you're putting your food down but you know that wasn't it.

Lando pulls into the garage and parks, the tension growing more and more with each moment. Getting out of the car he bends down and you see your purity ring dangle from his neck, thankfully he keeps it hidden around your brothers. Opening the door he helps you out and stops you.

You whimper feeling the heavy feeling of his neck as he bends your back over the back of his car. "Dove, let's get this straight, you're going to be in my garage, wearing my colors. If you're not, I'll walk over Ferrari, bend you over and turn your ass the same shade as your brother's car." His words soft but the grip on your neck was a comfortable ache.

You whimper and nod your head as he lets you go slowly and pulls you up straight. "Good girl, now can we go to dinner with Charles?" You smile and grab his hand, the same hand that was just around your neck. "Yes," You whisper but stop him and tuck the necklace under his white tank top.

You can't help but rack your eyes over him. He had a hat on that was currently backwards, with a black button up that was silk and nice pants. But what was really driving you crazy was the chain with the ring around it and the way his neck and shoulders were on display.

He smirks and walks you to the restaurant and you giggle seeing Charles. "Charles!" Your brother looks up and smiles and you try to let go of Lando's hand but he doesn't let you until Charles stares him down. Letting your hand go you smile gently at your brother and rush into his arms. Charles smiles and hugs you close, staring Lando down.

Charles never approved of your relationship with Lando, he didn't think Lando was good enough for you, so after a stern talking to from your mother had Charles just waiting for the moment Lando fucked up. Lando just smirks at Charles and you pull back fussing over Charles.

"Let's eat," Charles smiles and places you next to him and you noticed how Lando's face darkens but quickly replaces it with his signature smile. You and Charles talk about everything and anything while Lando was quiet, which wasn't unusual when you and Charles were together, you filled the gap with you two talking.

"I'll be back," You stand up and Charles and Lando stare at each other as you get up and kiss Lando gently and head to the washroom. "DO you think I'm fucking blind," Charles hisses and Lando just blinks at him. "Blind to what?" Lando asks, cocking his head to the side.

"To the fucking bruise on my sister's neck." Charles growls, and Lando chuckles and rolls his neck. "Knock it off Charles, I didn't hurt her, you'd honestly think I'd hurt her. I'd rather lose my seat, money, and life before I hurt her. You know that." Charles and Lando stare down but stop when you rejoin the table.

"You two behaving?" You joke but your voice held a sense of worry. "Talking about Carlos," They both said at the same time and for once their friendship pays off. "Good, how is Carlos, I miss him." You smile gently ignoring the way your skin burns with Lando's eyes boring into you.

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

Text

As You Wish - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: When Eddie isn’t appreciated like he should be, his babysitter feels the need to step in and comfort him.

Note: This was intended to be a short little spicy blurb. Yet here we are. Babysitter!reader just might be my ultimate weakness. Reader is 20, Eddie is early to mid 30s.

Warnings: smut, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), babysitter!reader, infidelity, language, older!eddie, praise kink, breeding kink, I think that’s it?

Words: 10k

Part Two | All stories in this universe

“Ryan, did you finish your homework?”

Small dark eyes peek out at you from behind the curls that fall into his eyes.

“No.”

Thankfully, this kid is honest to a fault. The day you first catch him in a lie you’ll be afraid he’s turning into his bitch of a mother.

“And why not?” you ask.

“I need help,” he says quietly. His voice sounds ashamed, and it etches a crack in your heart.

“Then you ask.” You sit down next to him at the kitchen table and push his hair out of his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with asking for help, okay? Everyone needs it sometimes.”

Ryan nods his head and pulls a folder out of his backpack. While he shuffles some papers around, you hear his younger brother on the other side of the couch, making car honking and crashing noises as he plays with his Hot Wheels.

“Luke, are you hungry?”

“No!” comes the response in between fake automobile sounds.

Ryan slides a piece of paper in front of you and your eyes glance over it. You’re not surprised it’s his reading homework again. He’s often gotten embarrassed about being behind the other kids in his class.

“Okay, we got this,” you tell him. “Oh, I know you know this word.” Ryan stares at it, brow pinching in concentration. “Come on, sound it out.”

“D…dif.” Ryan pauses to let out a sigh. “Differ. Differen. Different. Different!”

“You got it!”

A smile brightens his face as you wrap your arm around his shoulders. He looks so proud of himself, and it warms your heart.

Luke gets up and walks over to you at the table. Even though you’ve been watching him for over a year now, you’re still shocked at how much Eddie’s youngest son looks exactly like him. He’s a miniature Eddie with blue eyes. Luke rests his head against your shoulder, and you wrap your other arm around his shoulders.

“What’s up?” you ask Luke.

“Bored.”

“Bored?” you ask. “You were just playing.”

“Now I’m bored,” Luke says.

The front doorknob turns and both boys’ heads snap in that direction. Luke’s gone from your side before Eddie even has a chance to step one boot inside the threshold. He’s expecting it though and swoops his youngest son up in his arms as he steps inside.

“Hey, what’s up, rugrat?” Eddie asks. He kicks the door closed behind him and manhandles Luke until he’s holding him upside down.

“Ahh! Daddy! Put me down!”

“You sure? Okay.” Eddie holds him over the couch and drops him on his back onto the soft cushions. He kicks his boots off in the doorway of his bedroom and tugs the hair tie from the back of his head, setting his wild curls free. The dark blue coveralls still adorn his legs, the arms of the jumpsuit tied around his waist, and his plain white t-shirt is smudged with dirty fingerprints.

“Hi, Dad,” Ryan says, front tooth missing, making his smile even more adorable.

Eddie presses a kiss to the top of his head as he walks by, pressing one to yours next, shooting you a playful smirk as he walks into the kitchen. He’s only messing around, so why are your cheeks heating up so much?

“How was work?” you ask.

“Same old, same old,” Eddie says. He walks over to the table, popping the cap off a water bottle and chugging down half its contents in one go. The way his Adam’s apple bobs as he drinks catches your attention and you can’t seem to tear your eyes away. When he pulls the bottle away from his mouth, you turn your eyes down to Ryan’s worksheet, so you’re not caught staring.

“How’s work for you?” Eddie asks.

“Pretty good,” you tell him. “You saved me though because a certain little someone told me he was bored.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and turns to look at Luke on the couch.

“Bored? Again? Really?”

Luke shrugs and runs around the couch to launch himself at his dad. Eddie catches him with one arm, not spilling a drop of water from his bottle in the other. It’s hot, really, how effortlessly strong he is. You’d been by the garage he works at twice when your car was acting up, and the way Eddie looked bent over the hood or slid underneath the car had you thinking of ways to sabotage your own vehicle.

Ryan tugs on your sleeve and points down at his homework again.

“Right,” you say, shifting in your chair to look down at the paper again.

“I can help him with his homework,” Eddie says. You glance up and shoot him a smile.

“It’s no problem. Looks like you’ve got your hands full anyway.”

Luke lets out a war cry as he hangs onto his dad’s arm, little legs kicking dangerously close to Eddie’s crotch.

“Watch the goods,” Eddie warns him. You’re forced to look back down at Ryan’s worksheet and try desperately not to think of said goods. Not like you haven’t thought about them every single day since you met him.

“Enormous!”

“What?” Your head jolts up to look at Ryan, cheeks heating up and eyes wide.

“That’s the next word! I know this one!”

Letting out a deep breath, your eyes see the next word on the page is indeed “enormous.”

“Very good,” you tell him.

“I know it ‘cause it’s in my favorite book,” the seven-year-old tells you with a proud smile on his face.

“You’re such a smartie,” you tell him and ruffle his hair. He kicks his legs back and forth under the table and his tongue pokes out of his lips as he looks at the next word on the paper. Both boys have the same habit of sticking out their tongues when they’re concentrating, just like their father.

Ryan is able to sound out most of the remaining words on the list on his own, only needing your help once or twice. He happily puts his homework away, excited to show his teacher tomorrow how well he did. When he goes off to play in his room, Luke following behind him, you stand up and grab your bag. Eddie’s leaning against the doorway in the kitchen and your eyes catch the clock over his shoulder. Usually, Brittany’s home by now. You must make a face at the thought. Either that or Eddie can read your mind – which you really hope isn’t the case.

“Said she’s working late,” Eddie says.

“Mm,” you hum. That’s bullshit and you both know it. You don’t trust yourself to say anything about her without insulting his wife to his face, so you keep your mouth shut.

“What do you want for dinner tomorrow?” Eddie asks.

“Anything as long as you’re not cooking it.” Your teasing smirk has him pushing off the wall and knocking his shoulder into you as he walks past.

“Oh, you’re so funny,” he says dryly as he opens the fridge and grabs a beer.

“Whatever the kids want,” you say, answering his original question.

Eddie snorts as he opens his beer. He turns back to you and your eyes involuntarily track the bottle up to his lips and the way his throat moves when he drinks. You really have to stop staring at him when all he’s doing is simply taking a drink.

“They’ll eat anything, you know that,” Eddie says once he’s taken a sip. If he noticed the way you were looking at him, he doesn’t let it show. “You’re a pickier eater than they are.”

You scoff and reach out to swat his arm, making him chuckle.

“I am not,” you say. He raises his eyebrows at you and sets his beer down on the counter.

“So, should I pick up sushi on the way home from work tomorrow?”

“Oh, come on,” you whine. “That’s like, the one food I don’t like.”

“Uh huh,” he says, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “I’ll leave money for pizza, then.”

“I can afford a pizza, Eddie,” you say. When you’d first met, he’d almost winced when you called him “Mr. Munson.” He’s just been Eddie ever since.

“You’re not paying for a pizza my kids are going to eat most of,” he says. “S’bad enough you’re working outside of your usual schedule.”

“Eddie,” you say, taking a step towards him. “I’m your babysitter. It’s literally my job to watch your kids when you’re not going to be home. My schedule is whenever you need me.”

“It’s a Friday night, you should be going out,” Eddie says with a shrug.

“I could’ve said I was busy, and I couldn’t watch them. But I wasn’t, so I am. Besides, it’s your anniversary.” At this, Eddie gives a quick roll of his eyes which you politely ignore. “I wasn’t going to just bail on you. Besides, I didn’t have a date or plans with friends or anything.” You think you’re imagining the spark of fire in his eyes when you mention a date, but you secretly hope you’re not.

“Which is ridiculous,” Eddie says. “Don’t understand how you’re not constantly hanging out with friends or dating or stuff.” He shrugs and takes a step closer to you. “You work too hard. At school and work.”

“But I’m passing my classes,” you tell him. What you don’t tell him is that you’ve turned down invitations to hang out with friends, frat parties, and even dates because you’d rather watch Ryan and Luke just to see Eddie for the brief moments before he left and when he got home. You’ve never admitted that to anyone, actually, because you know it’s pretty pathetic to be so enamored with the father of the kids you babysit.

“Of course you are,” Eddie says. He smiles and reaches out to tug on a lock of your hair. “You’re ridiculously smart. Can be anything you want to be.”

Your wife, you think before mentally smacking yourself. He’s married. And celebrating his anniversary tomorrow. Even if his wife is a cheating, lying bitch.

“I’m working on it,” you say. Speaking of which, you have a paper due tomorrow so you probably should leave. As much as you really don’t want to. “I should head out.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You will.”

Eddie walks you to the front door and you grip the strap of your bag so hard your knuckles are turning white. It’s not fair, this effect he has on you. It’s maddening.

“Get home safe,” Eddie says as he opens the door for you.

“Thanks.” You give him a small smile as you step outside. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

When you step up to the Munson door the next day, you can already hear Brittany screaming at one of the kids somewhere in the house. For as long as you’ve known the family, the kids have never once given you a reason to scream at them, nor have you seen Eddie ever get above slightly raising his voice at them. Before you lift your fist to knock, you let out a loud, long groan, releasing all the tension already in your body since you’re about to be given more.

Brittany answers after a long minute of you waiting. Half of her dirty blonde hair is up in curlers and there’s a mascara wand in her hand. She looks crazed, which isn’t too far off, you think.

“Oh. Aren’t you early?” No hello, no greeting.

“Um, I don’t think so. Eddie told me five.”

“Oh.” She walks away from the door, leaving it open behind her, and you know that’s the closest thing to an invitation inside that you’re going to get. Taking advantage of being alone in the entryway, you roll your eyes as you toe off your shoes and close the front door. Luke’s laying on the couch, watching Lady and the Tramp, so you plop down next to him and squeeze his ankle.

“Hey, you,” you say.

“Hi,” Luke says, eyes never leaving the animated dogs on the screen. His five-year-old mind is clearly immersed in the story, so you decide to leave him alone and head into the kitchen. There’s a pizza menu on the table, along with a twenty-dollar bill. You huff a laugh and go to grab a water bottle from the fridge.

“Hey, have you seen my…” Eddie comes around the corner, only in a pair of fitted black pants, and stops short when he sees you. A smile appears on his face as he looks at you though, which only causes your stomach to flutter more than it already was at seeing him shirtless. You refuse to take your eyes off of his because you know you wouldn’t be able to help yourself from gawking at his chest and soaking in every little detail of his pale skin. “You’re not my wife.” Yeah, I fucking know, you think. Don’t remind me.

“Maybe I could still help,” you say. “Have I seen your what?” Your voice sounds scratchy, so you take a large sip of water, hoping he’d only think you sounded off because you’re thirsty. And you are. In multiple ways.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Eddie says.

Yeah, because the bitch was screaming, you think.

“Brittany let me in.”

“Honestly, you can just walk in whenever you get here,” Eddie says. “You’re family at this point.”

Say I’m like a little sister to you and I will cry.

“I’ll remember that,” you say. “Now, what can’t you find this time?”

He throws you a teasing glare as he walks over to the counter, shuffling through the clutter there.

“I’m looking for a small blue bag. I thought it was in my coat pocket, but I can’t find it.”

“You sure?” You’re admiring his naked back as he searches, eyes trailing down to his ass in the beautifully flattering pants, but your eyes snap back up to his as he turns around.

“Listen, my sunglasses were on my head once when I lost them.” “And your wallet was in your hand that one time you were looking for it,” you tease him.

“Okay, Miss Smartypants,” Eddie says as he walks closer to you. He wraps one arm around your shoulders and digs the fingers of his other hand into your ribs, making you let out a loud squeal as he tickles you. Instinctively, you go to push him away and your hands rest on his bare chest. You swear you can feel physical sparks under your skin as you touch him.

“Eddie!”

The yell coming from his bedroom has Eddie dropping his head forward and letting out a sigh. Reluctantly – you’d like to think, anyway – he lets go of you and shoots you half a smile as he makes his way down the hall. Your head is filled with a dizzying excitement and the urge to cry all wrapped up in one. Turning to walk back towards the living room, you catch sight of Eddie’s coat draped over a kitchen chair. With a smirk on your face, you walk over to it and slip your hands into the pockets. Unsurprisingly, you pull out a small blue paper bag from the left pocket.

“You adorable scatterbrain,” you mumble to yourself as you put it back where you found it.

Ryan runs down the hallway and almost bumps into you. He slides to a stop on his socks and grins as he pounces on you. His arms wrap around your middle, and you chuckle as you hug the boy back.

“Missed me, huh?” you ask.

“Yes! And guess what?”

“What?” you ask, pulling back to look at him. His head tilts up to face you, a smile identical to his dad’s beaming up at you.

“I got an A on my spelling test today!” “You did? Oh, I’m so proud of you!” You pull him in for another hug and kiss the top of his head. He chuckles and squirms out of your grip.

“Dad says I get to pick a new book at the store this weekend.”

“That’s amazing, buddy,” you tell him. “I told you you’re a smartie.”

“We gonna get pizza?” Ryan asks, eyes catching the menu on the table.

“We are,” you tell him. “What kind do you want?”

“Sausage,” he says, not to your surprise.

“And Luke will want pepperoni,” you say.

“Wow, you’d think you’ve been here before,” Eddie says as he comes back into the kitchen. If it was possible for a voice to smirk, his would be doing it now. Unfortunately, when he enters this time, he’s in a shirt. It’s a nice shirt, though. It’s a beige color with razor-thin black stripes going vertically down. The sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, showing off your favorite of all his tattoos: the bats. You’ve spent far too much time thinking about those seven inked bats.

“Heard you’re taking a trip to the bookstore this weekend,” you say to Eddie. A proud look comes to his face as his eyes shift to his son. It’ll never cease to make your heart soar, seeing how much he loves his children.

“Sure are,” Eddie says. “And he gets whatever he wants.”

Ryan’s grin grows and he walks over to his dad who musses his hair before pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Oh, I found your missing bag.” A smug smirk comes to your face as you cross your arms over your chest. Eddie’s eyes shoot up to you.

“Where?” he asks.

“Your pocket,” you say through a laugh.

“Are you shitting me?” Ryan shoots his dad a dirty look and Eddie just shrugs apologetically at him. He makes his way over to his coat and lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls the bag out. “I could’ve sworn I checked there. Jesus, you’re a lifesaver.” Eddie opens the bag as Ryan leaves the kitchen, going to join his brother in the living room. There’s a small black velvet box in Eddie’s hand and his eyes flit up to yours. “Want to see?”

“Duh.”

Inside there’s a diamond necklace with a delicate silver chain. You gasp as your eyes take in the piece of jewelry. It’s gorgeous. Eddie smiles as you lean in to take a better look. The charm is the silver outline of a heart with a diamond right in the middle. It’s the perfect size and you can basically feel how it would rest against your skin. But, of course, it’s not for you. It’s for the woman who’s cheating on him. The thought has you pulling back from the necklace, and you clear your throat.

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him. “She’s going to love it.”

“You think?” Eddie asks as he closes the box.

“How could she not?” you ask, a small, forced smile on your face. How could she not love the necklace? How could she be such a lying bitch all the time? How could she cheat on such a wonderful and gorgeous husband? You’d never understand how her mind works.

Eddie replaces the gift in his pocket just as Brittany walks into the kitchen, hair and makeup now complete. As awful as she is, you can’t deny that she’s pretty. Her heart-shaped face framed by long wavy hair, and bright blue eyes underneath thick, dark lashes. She’s wearing a dark red dress that hugs her curves and you feel suddenly self-conscious in your jeans and t-shirt. It’s obvious why Eddie would fall for her when they were teenagers, but it’s not as obvious why he’s stayed with her all this time.

“Ready?” Brittany asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie says. He grabs his coat from the chair and shrugs it on his shoulders.

“Make sure they take a bath,” Brittany says as she snatches her purse up from the counter.

Before you can answer, Eddie steps in.

“Britt, she knows,” Eddie says. You give him a grateful smile. You’re pretty sure that you’ve gotten her kids to take more baths than she ever has. At least they like and listen to you.

You follow both of them into the living room where Brittany snaps her fingers at her sons to get their attention. It’s like she thinks they’re the dogs they’re watching on the television.

“We’ll be back after you’re asleep.” The boys are hardly paying attention to her. “Listen to her more than you do me.”

Her. Not even your name. But they’re always great for you, something you’d love to rub in her smug face.

Eddie actually goes over to give his sons hugs and kisses goodbye, which they both return wholeheartedly. Brittany checks her watch as Eddie gives Luke one more kiss.

“Be good,” he tells them, to which they nod. “Thanks again for watching them.”

You wave him off as you follow them to the front door. Brittany strolls out, heels clacking on the pavement outside as she marches to the car. Eddie gives you one more smile before he digs his keys out of the pocket and follows after his wife. With a sigh, you shut and lock the door behind him. God, what you wouldn’t give to be in Brittany’s place.

When the pizza’s been ordered and delivered, you and the boys sit on the couch and watch The Muppets. You’re not paying much attention to the show, but Ryan’s question takes you by surprise.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You almost choke on the piece of cheese that just slid down your throat. A glance at the television screen shows Miss Piggy and Kermit on a romantic date, which makes you realize Ryan’s train of thought.

“Oh, no, I don’t,” you tell him.

“Mom wants you to,” Luke says, eyes never leaving the screen. Your head turns so quickly that you hear your neck crack.

“What?” you ask.

“We heard Mom and Dad talking,” Ryan says in between bites. “Mom said you should have our Uncle Dustin as your boyfriend.”

“O-Oh?” You shift in your seat, the room suddenly feeling hot. Part of you knows you’ll regret it, but you need to know. “What did Daddy say?”

“He said no,” Luke says matter-of-factly.

The way your heart soars is ridiculous, and you know that, but you can’t help it.

“Did they say anything else?” you ask, voice cracking.

“Daddy told Mom that she shouldn’t start you up with anyone,” Ryan says. Your brow furrows in confusion as you think for a minute.

“You mean ‘set me up?’” you ask.

Ryan shrugs and takes another bite of his pizza.

“Then Mom yelled at us to go back to our rooms,” Luke says.

Your head is spinning but you can’t exactly grill the children or ask them what they think this means. All you can do is pretend to watch The Muppets and finish your pizza as your thoughts circle around your mind.

The boys take their baths with no problem and Luke only asks for one extra bedtime story, which is good for him. Once you’ve checked that they’re both asleep, you pad down the hallway towards the living room. It’s chilly in the house and you rub your hands over your bare arms. An idea strikes you and your head swivels in the direction of the master bedroom. They wouldn’t be home for hours, so what’s the harm of wearing one of Eddie’s hoodies? You slip into the room and aren’t surprised to find it messy. You could count the number of times you’ve been in here on one hand and it was usually trying to find something with the boys.

With them asleep and you having the time, you let your nosey nature take hold of you and look around the room. There’s a television tucked into one corner, balanced precariously on a small end table. The comforter on the bed is a pea green color that you hardly think Eddie would've picked out. Photo frames dot the white walls, most filled with smiling pictures of Ryan and Luke from infancy to the present day. There are only a few photos that have both Eddie and Brittany in them, and hardly any of just the two of them alone. The one exception is their wedding photo hanging on the wall opposite the bed. You smile at younger Eddie looking at the camera. He looks so handsome in his black tux, bowtie looking so foreign around his throat. Brittany looks stunning in her gown and if you didn’t know her, you’d think they make a cute couple. But you sneer at the bride looking at you from the other side of the glass and turn away from the picture.

A black hoodie rests on top of a pile of clothes next to the bed and you swipe it up. Slipping it over your head, you smile at the warmth and scent of Eddie that fills you. You make your way back to the living room and wrap your arms around yourself as you walk. Grabbing the remote from where it sits on the coffee table, you settle in on the couch. There’s nothing good on as you flip through the channels, so you decide to get up and pop The Princess Bride into the VHS player.

When it’s a little more than halfway through, you hear keys jingling at the front door and you sit up, watching as the doorknob turns. Eddie walks in, alone, and tosses his keys down on the small hall table near the door. You watch him with a frown on your face as he strips off his coat and hangs it up on the coat rack with a sigh. There’s a dejected look on his face as he kicks his shoes off. He turns to you and gives you a sad smile before coming to sit down next to you.

“What’s wrong? Where’s Brittany?” you ask.

“According to her?” Eddie asks with a disbelieving laugh. “Her sister’s. Probably one of her boyfriends’ places though.”

“One of?” Your eyebrows shoot up and Eddie shrugs.

“I’ve lost count,” he admits. It was never said out loud between you and Eddie, but you both knew the other knew that Brittany was having an affair. Or affairs, apparently. Eddie fishes the small velvet box containing the diamond necklace out of his pants pocket and tosses it on the coffee table. “She, uh, got mad when I gave her the necklace.”

“Mad?” you ask. “Why the hell would she get mad?”

Eddie rubs a hand over his face and shakes his head. He looks so exhausted; it makes your heart ache for him.

“Apparently the diamond is too small for being married for nine years.”

“What the fuck?”

It just slips out of your mouth, but it makes Eddie laugh.

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a sigh. “What the fuck?”

“That’s really shitty,” you tell him. “I’m sorry.”

Eddie shrugs and you notice he doesn’t look all that sad. Or surprised.

“How were the kids?” Eddie asks.

“Angels as always,” you tell him. “They’re good kids.”

“They are,” Eddie says with a fond smile on his face.

“Because of you.” You nudge your shoulder against his and he smiles wider.

“Thanks – hey. Is that my hoodie?”

“Oh,” you say, looking down at it. “Uh, yeah, sorry. I was cold. Do you want it back?”

“No, no.” Eddie waves you off. “It looks good on you.”

Your face heats up at his words and he seems to notice. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips and he nudges your shoulder with his own in return. You lick over your lips and don’t give yourself time to contemplate your next words.

“Anything I can do to make you feel better?”

He turns his head to look at you, eyes roaming over your face, trying to see the meaning behind your words. Heart hammering against your ribs, you decide to bite your lower lip; you can either play it as an attempt at sexy or an innocent gesture, depending on Eddie’s response.

“I always feel better when you’re around.” He speaks softly and it only adds to the intimacy of his words.

Unable to help the smile that comes to your face, you look down at your lap before looking back at Eddie from underneath your eyelashes. He’s watching you, lips parted, eyes darkening. Heat pools down to your core at the look. You situate yourself so you’re facing him on the couch, one elbow perched on the back of it, arm propping your head up.

“Can I ask you something personal?” you ask quietly. “It’s fine if you don’t want to, though.”

“You can ask me anything.”

His words send your stomach flip flopping, and you unconsciously lean in towards him.

“If you know she’s cheating on you, why are you still with her?”

Eddie sighs and looks down to his lap. A sad smile is on his face when he looks back up to you. “She’s pretty awful, isn’t she?” He winces as he says it, like it’s the first time he’s admitted it to anyone besides himself. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place though because she’s still his wife and you don’t want to say anything bad about her. Even if it is all true. When you stay quiet, Eddie shrugs his shoulders and starts to fiddle with the rings on his fingers. “I don’t know. Guess I’m afraid.”

“Of what?” you ask, voice laced in concern.

He leans his head back until it’s resting on the back of the couch, and he runs his hands over his face.

“Oh, God,” he says. He drops his hands back to his lap and tilts his head to look at you. “I guess there’s this voice inside that keeps saying ‘who else would want me?’”

“That’s not true,” you say without hesitation. You lean forward and bring your hand up to rest on his shoulder. “Don’t say that. Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

“Yeah?” The self-deprecating smile he’s giving you fills you with ire. How dare this woman make Eddie feel like he’s unlovable. That he’s unwanted. You’ve known from the moment you met him that Eddie was special, and this bitch has had him over ten years and is still too blind to see it.

“Eddie,” you say as you give his shoulder a squeeze. “You’re really fucking awesome.”

He chuckles at that, and the way his eyes crinkle in the corners has your heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings.

“You’re pretty fucking awesome, too,” he says.

“You clean up nice, too,” you tell him as you reach for the buttons on his shirt. The two top ones aren’t fastened, so you let your fingers linger on the third, right where a sparse patch of chest hair starts to peek out. It feels like a game of chicken. Both of you wanting to toe over that line between friendly and too intimate for friends, but neither sure how to make that final push.

“While you look hot in an old sweatshirt,” Eddie says. That was definitely a step over that line, you decide. Face turning pink, you move forward and lift one leg over Eddie’s lap until you’re straddling him. His hands immediately rest on your hips, and you give him a shy smile as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“This okay?” you ask.

“Very,” Eddie says and pulls you forward by your hips until your chest is up against his. “Shit, I shouldn’t want this.” His beautiful brown eyes are searching your face, taking in every little feature that he finds adorable, that makes you you. “But I have wanted it. For so long.” Your mind is having trouble comprehending that he’s wanted you. Smoke is probably coming out of your ears because he’s short circuited your brain. Realizing you’re just staring at him dumbly, your face flushes.

“Me too,” you admit. Even through the material of all the layers between you, you can feel the hardness your core is resting up against. Giving an experimental rock of your hips over it, you let out a whine. Eddie shudders and his eyes fall closed. How long has it been since Brittany’s made him feel good? Slept with him? Touched him? Even looked at him in a way that would please him? How she’s not constantly on her knees for her husband is incomprehensible to you.

You trail your hands from his neck to his shoulders, slowly moving them to rest on his chest. Under your right hand his heart is beating so fast and the thought that you’re the one doing this to him feels wild. You lean and press a soft kiss to his cheek. From there, you move up to whisper in his ear.

“I want to make you feel good.”

Eddie shivers from your words and a soft moan leaves his lips. You trail soft kisses down his jaw, taking your time – it’s agonizingly slow in Eddie’s opinion. Stopping when you’re just shy of his mouth, you pull back and nuzzle the tip of your nose against his. It’s all Eddie needs before he’s cupping your jaw in his large hand and bringing your mouth down against his. The moment your lips touch his, everything feels right. His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to leave five little bruises behind. The kiss starts slow and sweet, but quickly becomes a mess of tongues and breathing into one another’s mouths as you try to taste every part of each other. You slide your hands up to cup Eddie’s neck as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. It causes you to whine and roll your hips down against Eddie’s.

“Shhh,” Eddie says as he pulls back from your lips. His eyes are blown, his mouth is kissed bruised, breaths are shallow, and you think he’s never looked more beautiful. “Don’t want to wake the boys.”

You nod and rest your forehead against his, trying to catch your breath.

“Y-Your room?” you ask shyly.

“Really?” Eddie asks, seeming surprised. “Are you sure?”

“Eddie,” you say with a laugh. “You think I would’ve climbed on your lap and shoved my tongue down your throat if I didn’t want to?”

That’s all the answer he needs. He stands with you still in his lap, and you let out a muffled squeal as you hide your face in his neck and wrap your legs around his waist. Eddie blindly reaches down and grabs the remote from the coffee table.

“Princess Bride, huh?” Eddie asks and you can hear the teasing in his tone.

“It’s a great movie,” you say. “Now are you going to take me to your room?”

The television clicks off and the remote lands on the couch with a thud.

“As you wish.”

You almost melt on the spot with those words. He carries you down the hall, your lips attached to his neck the entire time. Your tongue glides over a particularly sensitive spot and a moan slips free of Eddie’s mouth as he steps in his room. Kicking the door shut behind him, Eddie takes you over to the bed and lays you down on it. Quickly locking the bedroom door, he’s about to crawl on top of you when you slip out from under him and kneel at his feet on the floor.

“Please?” you ask, bringing your hand up to rub over his clothed erection. “Can I please suck you off?”

“Fuck,” Eddie mumbles as his hands fly to his belt. As he works with that buckle, you pop the button open on his pants and pull down the zipper. You help him shove his pants and boxers down until they’re pooled around his ankles, and you let him use you for balance so he can step out of them entirely. Even semi hard his length is ridiculously impressive. Definitely bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, and you feel yourself getting wetter just from imagining how he’s going to stretch you open.

“Such a pretty cock.” You don’t even realize you’ve said the words until you see his dick twitch and a whimper comes from above you. Spitting into your hand, you reach forward and wrap your hand around the base and jerk him a few times. When you look up at him you see that his eyes have drifted closed and he’s biting his bottom lip. A bead of precum forms on his slit and you lean forward to lick it off.

“Shit,” Eddie swears quietly. After a few more kitten licks to the tip, you engulf the whole head in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive ridge of his tip. You bob your head a few times, taking him further and further each time you come back. When you have as much of him as you can possibly handle, you keep jerking the rest with your hand and hollow out your cheeks.

Eddie’s moans are so beautiful that you’re pretty sure you could cum just listening to him. You have to squeeze your thighs together to give yourself some relief as you keep your head moving at a steady pace. Making it your personal mission to get him to hit the back of your throat, you dig your fingers into Eddie’s thighs and pull them in towards you. It works, and Eddie’s chanting your name like a prayer as you gag, tears streaming down your face. You pull off with a pop before dipping down and running your tongue over his balls.

“You’re going to kill me,” Eddie says with a breathy laugh. His cock, covered in your spit, keeps bumping against your face as you mouth at his sack. When your nose bumps into his shaft, you pull off of his balls and run your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock. You swirl your tongue around the tip a few more times before you let him fall from your mouth.

“I want you to cum in my mouth. But I want you to cum inside me even more.”

Eddie’s entire chest is flushed, and you grin in satisfaction. He looks too blissed out to speak so you start at his knee and press sweet kisses up his leg. When you get to his hip, you pull back to inspect the artwork there. The tattoo is right in the dip of his hip, below the V that leads to his dick. It’s a crescent moon made from what looks like thorns and twigs. One of the twigs is hanging longer than the rest so that it almost looks like the moon is a sickle and the long branch it’s handle. You press a few soft kisses against the inked skin before slowly running your tongue over it.

“Any other surprise tattoos I’m going to find?” you ask with a smirk as you stand up.

“Only one way to find out.” Eddie grins and pulls you against his body to attach his lips to yours. His grip on you is firm, but never too tight. Like you’re delicate, not fragile.

Eddie backs you up until the back of your knees hit the bed and you only break the kiss to crawl up towards the pillows. Eddie undoes the button on your jeans, and you lift your hips to help him slide them off. He tosses them to the floor and picks up your ankle in one hand. The open mouth kisses he starts pressing against the skin of your ankle and up your calf has you trembling under his touch. His kisses continue up until he’s kissing the inside of your thigh. When he gives the gentlest of bites to the meat of your leg, he runs his tongue over it to soothe the skin. His nose nudges the edge of your panties, and he looks up at you with his impossibly alluring eyes.

“Wanna taste you so bad, baby. Can I?”

Your hips buck at his words and you’re nodding your head, unable to speak.

He hooks his fingers on the elastic of your purple cotton panties and slides them down your legs until they’ve joined your jeans on the floor. Before leaning back down between your legs, Eddie undoes the buttons on his shirt and slips it off his shoulders. Standing completely bare in front of you, you’re not sure which is throbbing harder, your heart or your pussy.

You go to reach for the hem of the hoodie that you’re wearing, but Eddie stops you.

“Wanna lick your pussy while you’re wearing my clothes.”

You’re forced to throw a hand over your mouth to stifle the whine that leaves your lips. How you’re going to survive this without making any noise, you have no idea.

Eddie situates himself between your legs and a shyness suddenly comes over you and your legs start to close.

“Nuh uh,” Eddie tuts. “Come on, let me see you.”

Face burning, you open your legs back up and are rewarded with the hottest groan you’ve ever heard. “Fuck, baby.” Using his large hands, he spreads your legs a little wider to give him a better view. You whimper as he stares at your sex, feeling vulnerable in a way you’ve never felt before.

“God, you have such a pretty pussy, baby.” He slides a finger through your folds and you’re already so wet that it makes a schlick sound as he collects your arousal with his hand. “So, so wet. This all for me, baby?”

“You,” you pant out. “All for you. Only for you.”

His thumb finds your clit and your back arches off the bed, hips cantering as you try to hold back a moan.

“Shit baby, I can’t wait to hear those pretty noises you make.”

He can’t wait? Does this mean he wants to do this again? Somewhere where you’re the only two there so you can be as loud as you want? A particularly tight circle over your clit yanks you out of your head and back into your body that’s experiencing nirvana. His head dips down and he runs his tongue flat from your hole up to your sensitive little button. He does it again and his nose catches your clit on the way up, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

Eddie’s tongue is long. You’ve noticed it many, many times over the year, and you often wondered just how talented that large muscle was. Now that you’re finding out, you know that no other tongue could ever compete. His tongue goes from flicking over your bundle of nerves to teasing your hole.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” Eddie says into the crook of your thigh. His words go straight down between your legs. “Fuck, watching your hole flutter is about the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“It wants you so bad,” you whine.

Eddie answers your prayer and slips a thick finger inside of you. It’s not nearly enough but you’re too busy focusing on the fact that part of Eddie is inside you. It’s something you’ve thought about almost every night for a year now.

A second finger slips in beside the first one and you bite your lip as his fingers explore. He crooks his fingers up and you’re seeing stars as he presses into that magical spongy spot inside of you.

“Close,” you whine out. “N-Need your mouth.”

“Anything for you, princess.”

If the nickname wasn't enough to have you teetering on the edge, his tongue flicking and sucking your clit as his fingers pump in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot every time was doing the trick.

“Shit, Eddie,” you say as quietly as you can. “I’m – fuck – I’m coming.”

“Come on, baby,” Eddie encourages. “Cum on my tongue.”

Once Eddie feels your walls spasming against his fingers, he quickly replaces them with his tongue so he can lick you through your orgasm. You throw your head to the side, muffling your moans into a pillow next to you. They’re still loud but stifled enough.

Eddie crawls up your body, the lower half of his face covered in your slick.

“You taste so fucking perfect, baby,” Eddie says. “Pretty sure I’m addicted now.”

“I’ll give you your fix for as long as you want it,” you say.

His grin is feral as he leans down and captures your lips with his. Eddie licks into your mouth and you moan into him as you taste yourself. Breaking away for air, he smirks when he sees he’s smeared your slick on your own face. He reaches down and wipes it away with his thumb, the act so soft compared to the tantalizing kiss.

“Can I take this off now?” you ask, squirming in the hoodie. “I’m hot.”

“Hell yes you are,” Eddie says, hands slipping under the sweatshirt and helping you take it off. Your t-shirt is next, getting tossed somewhere behind Eddie. Left only in your black silky bra, Eddie cups your breast in his hand, making you arch your back up into his touch. Taking advantage of your body coming up off the bed, he reaches around and unhooks your bra, letting the straps fall down your arms. A whine escapes you as his thumb flicks over your nipple. You slip the bra fully off and tangle your fingers in Eddie’s hair as his mouth attaches to the nipple on your other breast, tongue swirling over the hardened bud.

Eddie’s hips rock against yours, his hard cock rubbing against your folds for friction, catching against your clit with every other thrust. He pulls off your nipple with a pop and trails his hot tongue over your collarbone and up your neck. A shiver runs down your spine as Eddie blows against the wet stripe on your neck, the contrast in temperatures making you tighten your hold in his hair. When you give a little tug, a soft moan slips from Eddie’s lips.

Hands trail down your sides as Eddie attaches his mouth to the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder. You’re sure there’s going to be a mark there tomorrow and the thought fills you with pride. You’ll gladly show off your marked body from Eddie, looking in the mirror every time you need a reminder that this night happened.

“Need you inside me, Eddie,” you whisper.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Eddie says against your neck. He reluctantly pulls his mouth from your skin to lean over to his nightstand. You grab his wrist before he can open the drawer though.

“No,” you say. “Want to feel you. All of you.”

Eddie looks down at you, hand coming to cup your face.

“You sure, sweetheart?”

“M’on the pill,” you say as you nod your head. “Please, Eddie.”

There was nothing Eddie wouldn’t give you, especially when you asked so politely.

Not sure if this would ever happen again, you wanted to make sure you got the full experience.

Eddie reaches down and grabs his cock, gathering your slickness as he rubs in between your folds. Your hips are rocking and you’re letting out small breathy whines, driving Eddie absolutely crazy. A gasp escapes your lips as the head of Eddie’s cock presses against your entrance. He swallows the sounds with his mouth, bracing himself on one forearm as he pushes into you.

Your fingers grip Eddie’s shoulders, nails digging into the soft, warm skin.

“Shit,” Eddie mumbles against your mouth, letting your delicious wet warmth pull him in. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“S-So big, Eddie,” you whimper against his cheek. You’re not just blowing smoke either; the thick head of Eddie's cock stretching you in the most pleasurable way you’ve ever experienced. You keep thinking there can’t possibly be more for him to give you, but he just keeps filling you. When he finally bottoms out, you feel like you could burst from how full you feel.

Eddie presses his forehead against yours as he stills, giving you a moment to adjust. All your whimpering and whining has him twitching inside of you, reveling in the grip of your cunt.

“Please…please move.” You’re already looking up at him with such a fucked out expression that Eddie isn’t sure he’s going to last long. The only pleasure he’s gotten has been from his own hand for months now, so going from that to your perfect pussy has him feeling like he’s a teenager again. Granted, most of the time he had himself gripped in his fist he was thinking about you, but the real thing is much, much better.

He pulls his hips back and you moan into Eddie’s shoulder as you feel every little drag of his cock against your walls. You’d never been with anyone like this before; there’s always been a condom before. But this was Eddie and everything you’ve ever wanted.

Once he’s pulled almost all the way out, Eddie slides back in, hips starting a steady pace. He drops his head down into your neck and groans, the sound making you clench around him. You wrap your legs around Eddie’s hips, clinging to him in every way possible. Every inch of your skin is pressed up against Eddie’s, unable to tell whose sweat is whose.

“You feel perfect,” Eddie murmurs against your neck. “Such a perfect little pussy.”

When the head of his cock hits just the right spot, you gasp and dig your fingers in even harder to his shoulders. Your eyes are rolling back in your head as Eddie keeps the same angle, hitting that spot over and over again.

“Fuck, Eddie. Making me feel so good.”

He pulls back to look at your face and your fucked out expression has his hips picking up their pace. Sweat shining on your skin and pieces of hair sticking to your face, Eddie thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.

“Feels good?” Eddie asks, to which you nod dumbly. He smirks and his hips start to fuck into you faster. “Such a good girl, for me. Pussy taking me so well.”

Looking at him through heavily lidded eyes, your mouth hangs open as he fucks all the thoughts from your head.

“Wanna be your g-good girl,” you manage to get out.

“Oh, you are,” Eddie says. “My sweet, perfect girl.” He leans down and attaches his lips to your jaw.

Eddie calling you his girl has you forgetting you’re supposed to be quiet, and a breathy moan escapes you.

“Shhh, baby,” Eddie says. “The boys are sleeping.” You nod and a smirk comes to his face. “You want me to fill you up, sweetheart? Get you all nice and knocked up?”

The way your face crumbles in pleasure has Eddie realizing he’s found another sweet spot of yours.

“Aw, you want my babies, princess? Want me to fuck you full of my cum? Shit baby, you’d look so gorgeous: round stomach, tits full.”

“C-Close, Eddie,” you whisper, voice giving out on you.

Eddie dips his two fingers into your open mouth, and you instinctively swirl your tongue around them. The sensation has Eddie closer to his peak as well. He pulls his fingers from your mouth and reaches down to rub at your swollen clit.

Eddie leans in to devour your pulse point, licking and sucking and your forehead drops forward to rest on his shoulder. When you pick your head up, your eyes land on the wedding photo on the opposite wall. Eddie starts to rub your clit faster and you feel the tension in your muscles reaching its height. You let go of Eddie’s shoulder with one hand and raise it up to stick your middle finger up at the bitch watching you from the picture frame. A smug smile comes to your lips as you relax back against the pillow, Eddie’s mouth still moving against your neck. She might have a ring on her finger, but her husband is currently fucking you on their marriage bed on their anniversary.

“Eddie,” you moan, and hearing his name fall from your lips has his hips stuttering.

“M’close too, baby,” Eddie says. “Cum with me.”

“Uh huh,” you breathe out and Eddie leans in to take your lips with his. His hand increases pressure on your clit and the dam breaks, your orgasm crashing over you like being drowned by a tidal wave. Sparks dot your vision and your pussy clenches around Eddie, sending him over the edge right alongside you. Your cunt milks his cum from him, making sure to get every last drop.

Eddie’s dizzy as his high comes to an end and he drops down next to you, immediately burying his face in your hair, nose nuzzling against your ear as he attempts to catch his breath.

“Wow,” you breathe out, making Eddie chuckle.

“Yeah,” he says, pressing a kiss right below your ear. “Wow.”

You’re staring up at the ceiling and Eddie is staring at you. When you close your eyes, Eddie smiles at the way your eyelashes brush against your skin, how your cheeks are rosy from the exertion. You blink your eyes open and turn your head to the side to look at Eddie.

“Hi,” Eddie says, a dopey smile on his lips. It makes you giggle.

“Hi.”

He reaches over and slides his hand along your jaw, pulling you in for a soft kiss.

“Look,” Eddie says as he pulls away from your lips. “What I said about h-having my babies, I…”

“It was hot,” you say with a smile, cutting him off. “I liked it.” The blush on your face gives away just how much you enjoyed it. And I actually want it, you think, but would never say.

You turn on your side to face him and Eddie scoots closer until his nose is right up against yours.

“I should feel guilty,” Eddie says after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “But I don’t. I felt guiltier about wanting you all this time than I do about having sex with you.”

“You’ve wanted me all this time?” It feels like the smile is never going to leave your face.

“How could I not?” Eddie asks. “You’re pretty fucking amazing.”

A blush blooms on your face and Eddie reaches over to pull you into his arms. Taking full advantage of the opportunity, you wrap your arm around his waist and nuzzle your face into his neck.

“You’re pretty amazing, too,” you tell him. “That’s why I’ve wanted you all this time.”

“Did you mean what you said before?” Eddie asks in a quiet voice. “About any woman being lucky to have me?”

You frown and pull away to look Eddie in the eye.

“Yes, Eddie. You deserve so much better than her. Shit, if I were your wife, I’d be waiting to jump on you every time you walked through the door.”

Dread pools in your stomach as you realize what you’ve just said. Eddie only smirks at your blush though, tucking you back into his side.

“I love how you make me feel,” he says softly.

“Daddy?”

The doorknob twists back and forth and you thank God that Eddie had the foresight to lock the door. You – reluctantly – slip out of Eddie’s arms and crawl around on the floor, gathering your items of clothing.

“Where are my jeans?” you whisper to Eddie as he slides a pair of sweatpants up his hips. He shrugs but tosses you the hoodie that he’d stripped from your body before. You hide on the floor on the other side of the bed, trying to slip back into your underwear as Eddie opens the door, stepping into the hallway to talk to his son out there.

“What’s up, Luke?”

“Where’s Mom?”

“Uh, she’s at Aunt Sandy’s.”

You hear Luke ask where you are as you slip on the rest of your clothes, sans the jeans. There’s a pair of Eddie’s pajama pants on the floor that you grab and slide into.

“Oh, I think she’s in the bathroom,” Eddie says to Luke. “What’re you doing up, buddy?”

“Bad dream,” he says, and you don’t need to see him to know he’s pouting.

“Wanna go watch some tv?”

Their footsteps disappear down the hall and you stand up from the other side of the bed. Your eyes are searching the room for your jeans when Ryan steps into the room, rubbing his eyes.

“Whas going on?” he asks with his sleepy voice.

“Oh, hey, Ry,” you say, forcing a smile to your face. “I think Luke just had a bad dream. That’s all.”

He holds his hand out to you and you’re forced to leave the mystery of your jeans behind as you go over to hold his little hand in yours. He tugs you into the living room where Eddie is sitting with Luke on the couch. Ducktales is playing on the television in the dark room, the flickering lights casting shadows on Eddie’s bare chest as he sits with his son. Luke is curled up on a pillow between Eddie and the arm of the couch, already halfway back to sleep.

You sit down next to Eddie and Ryan sits on your other side. He lays his head in your lap and you card your fingers through his soft curls. Eddie tilts his head to give you a smile and you feel a strange sort of warmth spread through your tummy. The four of you tucked onto the same couch makes you want to cry, and you’re not sure if it’s from longing or happiness that it’s currently happening.

After a few minutes, the soft snores of both boys can be heard over the low tv, and Eddie presses a kiss to your shoulder. He leans forward and swipes something off the coffee table before you can see what it is. In the light of the television, you see Eddie open the black velvet box that holds the diamond necklace intended for Brittany. His careful fingers remove it from the box, and he tosses that back onto the table. He unhooks the small silver clasp and looks up at you. When you don’t move, he raises his eyebrows at you.

“Gonna leave forward so I can put it on you?”

“What?” you ask, eyes going wide.

“I want you to have this. If you do, that is,” Eddie says. “To be completely honest, I was thinking of you when I bought this.”

At your shocked expression, a bashful look creeps onto Eddie’s face.

“The sales lady asked what I was looking to buy for my favorite girl.”

“That’s…me?” you ask in a breathy voice.

“Who else would it be?”

His smile is so genuine that you can’t help but lean forward and press your lips against his. Eddie hesitates at first, but at the snores coming from either side of you, he kisses you back. When you pull away, you lean forward, and Eddie drapes the silver chain around your neck. Once it’s secure, you lean back and look down at where the heart rests over Eddie’s black sweatshirt.

“It’s perfect.”

“It’s yours.”

The look in his eyes as he says it leads you to think he’s talking about more than just the necklace. Your eyes get misty, and you rest your forehead against his.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“I should be thanking you,” Eddie answers just as quietly. He lets his head fall down to your shoulder and you press a kiss into his curls. You turn your attention back to the ducks on the screen, and before you know it, Eddie’s soft snores have joined those of the two boys.

About an hour after Eddie falls asleep, you hear a key clanging in the front lock. The door opens and Brittany steps in, quietly taking her jacket and heels off. It’s clear she doesn’t know anyone is still up. She turns towards the living room and her eyes widen as she takes in the image of you on the couch, Eddie’s head on your shoulder, and both boys sleeping on the two of you. You let your eyes rake over her, taking in the smeared makeup, disheveled dress, and bra hanging out of her purse. All you can do is chuckle to yourself when she shoots you an icy glare. Let her prove you did something wrong.

You watch as her eyes take in you wearing Eddie’s pajama pants, his hoodie, and they widen most comically of all when they land on the necklace hanging around your neck. Her nostrils flair and she stomps down the hallway. You can hear her tossing stuff around the master bedroom and when she lets out a mix between a huff and a groan, you know she’s found your jeans.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #babysitter!reader #older!eddie #AYW #AYWS

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bad268 · 6 months

Note

Hey. I love your blog. It's amazing. Is it possible for you to write about actress reader x colby brock. Like they are each others favorite and Sam and colby invite her to one of their investigations. Like in one of her interviews found out that their her favorite YouTubers and colby might ask her on a date?

Thank you so much 💗

Tweets (Colby Brock X Actor! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Sam and Colby & Co.

Requested: Clearly (I had a little too much fun with this one lol)

Warnings: none.

Pronouns: First person (I/me)

W.C. 1087

Summary: An unearthed tweet leads to shocking revelations (with a best friend's intervention).

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^@/Colby's insta from November 16, 2023)

It all started with a resurfaced tweet from 2015…

I can’t say it was a lie, but it was before my big break, and I didn't have a manager running my social media accounts 24/7. I was just a normal teenager on Vine with time to kill. And now, I thought it was coming back to haunt me, pun intended.

That was until I received a DM from Colby himself asking me to be a part of their yearly tradition, Hell Week. At first, I was starstruck, but I would have been crazy to decline.

So that’s where we are now: preparing for the Conjuring House. A place of extremes. A place I told myself I would never go to because of how insane it is, yet here I am. And, of course, it’s going to be for a week.

I was invited to Sam and Colby’s place to go over the specifics of the trip. I had just finished filming my latest movie, which was coincidentally being filmed in Las Vegas, so as soon as my scenes were wrapped up, I set off for their house.

By the time I got there, everyone else who was invited was already there. At least, I assumed with the number of cars in the driveway. I was still in stage make-up, but thankfully, I had changed into something more comfortable before I left the set. I grabbed my backpack before jumping out of my car, locking it, and walking up to the door, ringing the doorbell.

Almost immediately, the door is being opened, and I am face to face with Colby. After a beat of us just staring, speechless, at each other, I cleared my throat. I chuckled nervously before saying, “Hi, apologies for being late. Filming ran a little longer than I originally planned. I hope I didn’t hold you all up too long.”

“Nah, don’t even worry about it,” he dismissed quickly as he stepped aside and ushered me inside. “Come in, and I’ll show you where you can put your stuff. You’re staying and going with Sam, Seth, and me to Rhode Island, right?”

“If that’s still alright with you guys,” I replied, walking in step with Colby up the stairs. “I don’t want to impose on your personal spaces. I can go home, just say the word.”

“I would never kick you out,” he laughed, leading me down the hall and stopping just before the end. “Here is your room. There is a bathroom attached. It’s right next to the closet, and if you need anything, my room is right there.” He paused as he pointed to the room at the very end of the hall. “I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night. If you need anything, let me know.”

“I’ll feel bad if it’s the middle of the night, but I will keep that in mind. Thank you,” I replied as I walked in to set my bag down on the vanity. “I’m just going to take my make-up off and meet you guys downstairs if that’s alright.”

“No problem,” he said, “We’ll be in the living room and we’ll either order food later or go out. We’ll see how everyone feels.”

“Ok, cool, thank you!” I said enthusiastically as he left down the hall. I closed the door over as I walked deeper into the room. I grabbed out my micellar water, cotton pads, and hydrater before walking into the ensuite to clean my face. As I set them on the counter, I noticed a piece of paper.

It was a printed screenshot of Twitter. A specific tweet from Colby in 2016 read, “Give me a chance y/n.” The back of the paper had its own handwritten note.

“You have been Colby’s celebrity crush for years. I know you posted a tweet in 2015 asking if he was single, and I don’t know if it was a joke or not. I didn’t show him the tweet, but I can say he’s single now if that tweet is still true. Please just get him to shut up. -Sam”

I chuckled at the note before quickly cleaning my face to head downstairs. Everyone was sitting on the couch or on the floor facing the TV. Everyone except Colby. I glanced around the room, trying to find him, only to see him standing in the kitchen. He was looking through the fridge, so I walked up behind him.

“Can you hand me a water?” I asked, startling him in the process. He jumped up straight, sucking in a quick breath as he snapped around to look at me. “Did I scare you or is that residual energy from the Conjuring House?”

“No, I just…” he trailed off for a second. “Yeah. I wasn’t expecting you down here just yet.”

“Kinda like how you didn’t expect me to see this?” I teased as I pulled the paper out from behind my back. Colby’s eyes grew wide as his jaw dropped. He stammered, trying to come up with a reason behind it, but he could not get a cohesive thought out. “Don’t worry. I’d give you a chance.”

Colby stopped entirely. I could see the gears turning in his mind before he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He opened his eyes, immediately meeting mine as he reached out to take the paper from my hands, setting it on the counter. He held my hands in his as he closed the distance between us.

“Y/n, will you go out with me?” Colby whispered as he bit his lip in nervousness.

“Of course, I will,” I whispered back as a smile spread across both of our faces.

“How about after this meeting we get out of here and do mini golf and dinner?” He offered, leaning his head down to rest our foreheads together.

“I will take you down,” I laughed as I leaned more into his body. “Truth be told, I’m great at mini golf.”

“Okay, lovebirds, we get it,” Sam interrupted from the living room. “We get it.”

“Shush, Sam,” I quipped back as I snapped my head to look at the group on the couch, still holding Colby’s hands. “You’re the one that left the note in my bathroom.”

“Wait, there’s a note?!” Colby shouted as he immediately let go of one of my hands to flip the paper over, reading through the note. “Sam, I told you this in confidence!”

~~~~~

#colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock imagine #colby brock #sam and colby #actor reader #actress reader #colby x reader #colby x y/n #colby brock x you #colby x you #bad268 #ship268 #thing268 #youtuber oneshot #youtubers #youtube

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yoongiseesawmp3 · 3 months

Text

ceilings - san

summary: pe teacher!san x single mom!reader. your kid is finally ready to go to school, and you're spiraling. thankfully, you find friendship with your kid's teacher and she becomes determined to become your best friend. simultaneously, she tries to set you up with the cute pe teacher, but you know him from somewhere deep within your past. can the truth come out without jeopardizing your future?

word count: 12.4k

warnings: afab reader so gendered terms, mentions of accidental pregnancy

masterlist / part two

"violet, come on, we're gonna be late!" you shout to your daughter. it's her first day of kindergarten, her first day of real school, and you're so close to tears. you want to cry because your baby is growing up, because you won't get to cart your little mini me around with you everywhere now, because you're so stressed about getting her to school on time. it's been a rough morning, and your daughter taking her sweet time is not helping.

"i'm almost ready!" she shouts back from the bathroom, and you suppress a groan. what does a five year old have to primp for?

"one more minute and i'm dragging you to the car!" you threaten lightheartedly, knowing she'll only take it to mean she has a minute before you go and help her.

"i'm done," she says proudly as she appears in the doorway to the kitchen. hands on her hips she asks, "how do i look?"

"ridiculous," you laugh. "is that my shirt?"

"and my belt!" she defends herself. "i thought it was cute."

"it is cute, baby, but maybe you should wear something more comfortable for the first day?" you offer. you shuffle over to the laundry basket you left on the stairs and dig around for an outfit, handing your stubborn daughter some jeans and a sweater. "just wear something comfy today, and later this week you can dress silly."

"i wasn't dressed silly, i was dressed like you," violet mumbles, and you roll your eyes. your daughter definitely got your sass, and your stubbornness, but the resemblance kind of stops there. she's a spitting image of her father, a constant reminder of the mistake you made when you were younger. but it wasn't really a mistake, was it? if it brought you the one thing that's made you happier than anything before, it wasn't a mistake at all. violet was the best thing that ever happened to you, and again, the waterworks threaten to fall as you think about dropping her off for her first day of school. a day, you realize, you're late for.

"c'mon sugar, we gotta go!" you shout, grabbing her hello kitty backpack. "i've got your stuff, meet me in the car!"

you work close enough to violet's school that you can be one of those annoying carpool parents swarming the school grounds every day. while violet may hate it, you're so excited for all the memories that will come from these trips to and from school each day. like today, you'll always remember how violet started crying a few minutes down the road, claiming she didn't want to go to school because she didn't want to eat school lunch.

"it's not that bad, vi." you tell her as you peek at her through the rearview. "i remember loving some days of school lunch so much i would always go, even if i was sick."

"but you only liked some days," she sniffed. "what if i don't like any of the days?"

"then i'll pack you a lunch," you assure her. "just try it this week, every day, because some days will be better than others. then if you don't like any of it i'll start making your lunch. how does that sound?"

"okay," she nods, her sad little sniffles clearing up. "thank you mommy."

"we're almost there," you say quietly, more to yourself than to your daughter. "are you excited, sugar?"

"kinda," she admits. "i'm excited to see miss jen!"

"she's gonna be a great teacher," you agree. "you're gonna learn so much, and you're gonna have so much fun with her and all the friends you're gonna make. right?"

violet nods again, and you're satisfied for now. you're sure your baby is alright to go off to school for the first time, at least for the time being. surely there will be another thing to freak about later in the day, but for now you need to worry about navigating this carpool line. a man in workout clothes with a haggard looking traffic vest is directing traffic, and while you pass him, you feel your heart skip a beat.

it can't be him, right? there's no way he works here. it can't be. you keep driving, following the cones until you pull up to the sidewalk and a very kind looking teacher approaches your car with a soft smile.

"good morning!" he chirps. "i'm mr. kang, the librarian," he says as he stoops to peer through your window. his gaze goes to the backseat, asking violet, "are you ready for the best day ever?"

she nods shyly, and you watch as she undoes her car seat and slides out of the car with her too big book bag engulfing her frame as she walks away. you shout her name and she turns, a nervous look on her face.

"have a great day, my love!" you blow her a kiss for good measure, and you carry the way she smiles proudly with you for the rest of the day. the man in the traffic vest is all but forgotten, but he watches from afar in confusion. was he seeing things, or were you really here dropping off a kid? a kid, in fact, who looked exactly like he did at that age. weird, he thinks, but he shakes it off and continues directing traffic, wondering how he could find a way to introduce himself over the next few days.

when you were younger, your parents always supported you academically, but they were never involved with the school itself. pta meetings were not their thing, and it was a struggle getting them to take off work for a parent/teacher conference. you had decided early on that you would be one of those involved parents, one that knew your kid's teacher well and participated in room mom activities. you were texting violet's teacher last night, actually, asking if there was anything you could bring to help celebrate the first week, and she was eager to have the help.

she'd asked you to bring lollipops, so on thursday afternoon you're searching for a parking spot before school lets out. you were going to drop the goodies off at violet's classroom and help jen with the goody bags during dismissal, quick and easy. except, an intimidating figure walking toward your car may not make this process as easy as you'd have hoped.

san saw your car pull up and immediately stepped out into the parking lot. as the unofficial carpool guardian, one of his daily jobs is stopping parents who try to cheat the system by taking up faculty spots so they can be first in line. san didn't know it was you or he would've approached with a different demeanor, but today was rough. he had at least two criers per class and one kid who ran so hard after lunch he puked outside san's office. he wasn't in the mood to deal with a privileged parent, so he lets out a deep sigh as he approaches your now open window.

"ma'am you can't park here-" he starts, but as soon as his eyes meet yours he chokes on his words. "y/n?"

"hi san," you smile shyly, heartbeat racing. "so i can't park here? there weren't any guest spots out front, and i need to take something to vi's class-"

"vi?" san questions, and you let out a deep sigh of your own.

"violet," you tell him. "my..my daughter."

"i thought that was you the other day," san admits, and you nod in confirmation. "well, um, if you're just coming to drop something off, you're all good, you can leave your car-"

"oh really? i can move, it's no problem-"

"no, no, don't worry about it-"

"are you sure?" you ask, finally stopping the awkward back and forth. "you won't tattle?"

"pinky promise," san laughs, holding your door for your as you get out. "but i'd sneak out before carpool starts up if i were you, it'll be hard to pull out once the lot fills up."

"got it," you nod graciously, slipping your hand into the backseat to grab the bag of candy. san is still standing there, so you clear your throat and try to leave. "well, thanks for letting me-"

"no worries-"

"it was good seeing you-"

"yeah, yeah..." san trails off. once you're a few feet away he calls your name. you turn to see what he needs, and he thinks about it before shrugging. "never mind," he says. "it was nice to see you."

"bye san," you manage to get out before you turn the corner, hands sweaty and heart doing funny flips in your chest.

you hadn't told violet about your visit, so when jen lets you into the room you hear an excited squeal followed by a pair of small arms wrapped around your legs. violet looks up at you proudly, a spot of something on her cheek. you forget sometimes, just how much she looks like san, but your exchange outside has him fresh on the brain. she has his smile. you shake the thoughts from your head and try to take a step, but violet won't budge.

"hey sugar," you laugh, ruffling her hair with your free hand. "go back to your seat, school's not over yet."

"but-"

"violet, do you want to show your mom where to put the bags she brought?" jen offers, and you send her a thankful look. violet tugs on your hand, bringing you over to the "treasure box" which is really just a filing cabinet jen must have filled with candy and toys. violet shows you each drawer, and you make her look away as you place the candy in it's appropriate drawer so it won't ruin the surprise for now. satisfied with her work, violet goes back to her seat as the bell rings for dismissal. you organize some of the other things you brought on jen's desk as she goes over reminders for the class, and then the first few rounds of students start leaving.

"thanks for bringing all this," jen says as she joins you.

"do you need help putting them together?" you ask, and she thinks for a moment.

"no, i don't want to keep you," she starts.

"well, i think i'm stuck for a while anyway," you inform her. "i had to park in a faculty spot, and carpool-"

"oh yeah, you're definitely stuck," jen laughs. "let me get everything set up, and then you can start while i help the rest of the kids leave, if you don't mind?"

"not at all!" you assure her, looking out to find violet watching you both like a hawk. "do you think we'll need another set of hands though?" jen follows your gaze and laughs before waving violet over. the three of you get everything set up, and you ask violet about her day as jen organizes the next group of kids for bus call.

"it was good!" violet says happily. "i liked lunch today."

"what did they have?"

"chicken sammiches," she says, and you laugh.

"sandwiches, baby," you tell her. "sammiches is a me and you word, but some people may not know what that means."

"i like chicken sandwiches and chicken sammiches," she nods. "and then we had pe and a boy in my class threw up. he had pizza."

"gross," you crinkle your nose. "you liked pe though?"

"yeah, it was fun!" violet goes off on a tangent about all the games, and jen rejoins you to help finish the bags. the three of you fall into comfortable conversation with violet as the life of the party. you like jen, you find yourself thinking. you hope it's not weird to be friends with your kid's teacher, because you could really use one here. you're lost in that thought, so you don't notice when someone appears in the doorway.

"mr. choi!" violet chirps, abandoning her task and rushing to meet him. never met a stranger, your child, because she's tugging his hand and bringing him over to you. "this is mommy."

"that's not her name though, is it violet?" jen asks, ever the teacher.

"y/n," san nods, and you don't miss the way jen looks from you to san to violet and back again. "did you get tricked into staying late?"

"no, i offered," you reply. "but i didn't have a choice, i didn't listen to your advice and couldn't leave before carpool started."

"you're all good now," he says, holding up his reflective vest all crumpled in his big hand. "just sent the last kid home."

"good to know," you nod. "vi, where's your stuff? we'll leave soon."

"no!" she whines. "i don't wanna leave!"

"don't you want a snack though?" you tempt her, and that sends the mini menace into motion.

"to what do i owe the pleasure of you stinking up my classroom, choi?" jen asks.

"i wanted to talk to you about the kid that threw up today," he says, and you must look at him confused because he asks you if anything's wrong.

"are you the pe teacher here?"

"yep," he answers. "i didn't know this was your violet," he says, nodding his head toward your kid. "she's a sweetheart. ball of energy too."

"you're telling me," you smile softly. violet walks over then, informing you that she's ready to go. you ask jen if there's anything else you can do, but she insists on you taking violet home.

"you've helped enough, believe me," jen tells you. "i'll see you tomorrow violet!"

"bye miss jen!" violet says with a smile. "bye mr. choi! i hope no one pukes on you tomorrow!"

jen waits for you and your kid to be far enough down the hall before she asks calmly. "so. how do you know y/n?"

"we, uh, we go way back," san says. "went to school together, college, all that."

"oh, so you like, really know her," jen says, a plan brewing in her head. she saw the way san looked at you. she also knows you're single. "you didn't know her kid went here?"

"didn't know she had a kid at all," san shakes his head, and he seems to get lost in a thought before he remembers what he came here for. "anyway, this kid today, you gotta tell him not to eat so much before pe..."

you and san didn't grow up together, exactly, but you have known him since high school. you floated around similar groups of friends, so you hung out regularly without ever getting too close. it wasn't until college that you actually became friends. you both went to a local school, at least as local as you can get for your small town. living in a city all by yourself was intimidating, but you weren't worried about not making friends. you knew they would come.

the day of your orientation, san saw you sitting by yourself in the auditorium and immediately recognized you. he brushed off his sweaty hands before walking over and softly calling your name. when you registered who he was, you smiled and invited him to sit next to you. both happy to see a familiar face, you spent the rest of orientation attached at the hip. in fact, you spent the rest of your time at school like that. san was your best friend, nothing more. he didn't always feel that way, but he did a good job of hiding his feelings. he was able to hide how he felt about you all the way up to the final semester of your senior year.

you were thriving, one of those seniors itching to finish school and get out into the real world. you knew you were just months away from a successful career, and you wouldn't let anything get in your way. you liked that you didn't know what was coming next or where you would end up after graduation. the prospect of moving to a new city, hell, maybe a new country, was exciting. this restlessness is what made san speak up. he was ready to graduate too, sure, but he was ready to get out of the city. san always wanted to be a teacher, and he already had offers all across the state, but the only job he cared about was in his hometown. it's where he wanted to be, and he knew that if he didn't tell you how he felt now, he may never get the chance. he wanted you to know so he could at least have a chance with you, even for a little while.

so he confessed, one night early in the semester. he was walking you home, his dorm only a few doors down from yours. at the door to your dorm he pulled you into a hug, which was normal for him. san was always a touchy friend, but what he said as he pulled away still bounces around in your head.

"y/n, i think i'm in love with you," he said earnestly. you looked in his eyes, trying to find the beginnings of a smile, some hint of a secret, that this was a joke. but he was serious. when you didn't say anything he shrugged, stepped away, and added, "i just wanted you to know."

you still don't know if it was shock or fear that kept you from saying anything that night, from calling his name and pulling him back in. but you didn't say anything then, you didn't say anything for months. san pretended like it never happened, and you just went along.

it didn't come up again until the going away party at the end of the year. school was over, finals done, and graduation was days away. everyone wanted to celebrate the past four years and freak out over what was next, all sharing where they were going and how scared they were. san was moving back home to be a teacher and wasn't scared at all. you were leaving for a bigger and better city the day after graduation and you were terrified.

later, san pulled you to the side and asked if you were ok. you knew he was referring to the job stuff, but you had other things on your mind. you were a little tipsy, so you decide that's why you leaned in and kissed him. it was quick, soft, barely a kiss, but you did it. you kissed him and pulled back faster than san could think, his eyes still closed when you parted and said, "i just wanted to know what it would feel like."

you were able to avoid him for the rest of the party, enjoying your last few hours with some of your best friends. you had an early morning, so you stopped drinking before everyone else and found yourself as a designated walker at the end of the night. you and san were elected to walk a few friends back to their dorms, dropping them off as you passed each building on your own walk home. inevitably, you were left alone with san at your door like that night months ago. san looked like he wanted to say something, and you didn't want him to leave, so instead of separating at the door you invited him in.

you'll never forget that night, and neither will san. but with your paths parting in a few days, you thought it would be something you could move on from eventually. a few weeks later, in your new city, at the perfect job, you found out you were pregnant. it hurt, the decision to not tell san, but the thought of stopping your life before it even started hurt more. you figured you would never see san again, or that you could at least keep the kid a secret if you ever hung out with your college friends again. you never thought that you'd somehow end up moving your daughter to the neighborhood where san grew up, or that the great school you fought to enroll her in could possibly be where san currently worked. but that's life, isn't it? or fate. or maybe just dumb luck. whatever it was, the universe was trying to get you to tell the truth and you're not sure you're ready to do that. to yourself, to violet, or to san.

san can't stop thinking about you. he tries so hard to catch a glimpse of you during carpool, but he's too busy focusing on a million other things and never manages to find you. he tries to think about how he could use violet to talk to you, like sending a note home with her, but that's inappropriate. he needs to see you again, though. that's when he gets an idea.

you and jen have become genuine friends, which has made things confusing for violet only because she treats jen like her teacher in casual settings. you met up for dinner the other night and violet raised her hand to ask jen a question, so hopefully she'll get used to it. san knows you two are close, and he knows if he asks jen about you she'll tell him whatever he wants to know.

at lunch one day he finds jen in the teacher's lounge and motions to the empty seat at her table. she lets him sit, but warns, "wooyoung saved the other seats for himself, so leave now if you want to."

wooyoung, one of the third grade teachers, was actually one of san's best friends. he's a hand full, yes, but fiercely loyal and caring. san doesn't necessarily want him to hear the conversation he wanted to have with jen, but oh well. as soon as san has that thought, wooyoung is bursting through the door with a stack of plastic containers from the lunchroom in his arms.

"m'lady," he nods to jen as he passes her a container. he looks to san and asks, "you want one bro?"

"what's in it?" san asks skeptically, and wooyoung shows off a stack of chicken sandwiches. "seriously?"

"hey, they're really good," jen pipes up. "the kids are lucky they get to eat these."

"how did you get so many?" san asks wooyoung as he takes a sandwich anyway.

"flirted with the lunch ladies."

"course you did," jen rolls her eyes, taking a bite of the sandwich. she chuckles to herself, and then shares, "you know, there's a kid in my class who calls these sammiches? no matter how many times you correct her, she won't say anything else. she told me this morning she didn't want to come to school, but she did because it was sammich day."

that's violet. san knows it is. he heard a snippet of your conversation in jen's classroom weeks ago, but he also knows he's heard violet say something similar when she comes to the gym. she loves those sandwiches, and san must admit, now that he's tried one he gets the hype. this is his shot though, he thinks to himself. he clears his throat and asks, "that's y/n's girl right?"

"who's y/n?" wooyoung asks, and jen responds, "san's girlfriend."

"no she's not," san says quickly. "she's kidding."

"you like her though?" wooyoung smirks, and san shakes his head.

"i-it's not like that," san explains. "i knew her a long time ago, and haven't seen her for a few years. that's all."

"so what about her?" jen asks.

"what do you mean?"

"well you brought her up," jen laughs. "you want me to tell her you asked about her? that feels very elementary of you, san."

"no, no, i was just, uh," san racks his brain for a response, "um, she's your room mom right? i may need to talk to her, for um, uh, field day."

"sure," jen nods. "i can give you her number, if you don't have it?"

"yeah, yeah," san nods too, "sure, if you think that'll be ok. i mean, i just needed to ask something, really quick, but, um, sure, yeah."

"if you really need to talk to her, she's coming in tomorrow i think," jen says, checking her phone. "yeah, tomorrow is violet's birthday, so y/n is bringing cupcakes at lunch. you can just stop by my class table and ask her whatever you need to ask her."

"oh, cool, great," san nods. wooyoung and jen share a quiet laugh, noticing that san seems like a bobblehead nodding so nervously. "yeah, tomorrow. lunch tomorrow. i'll be here."

you're running late. it's your kid's frickin birthday and you're late. you wanted to be supermom, make cupcakes from scratch, but work has been crazy on top of all the prep for violet's party, and you're just one woman. you can't do all of this by yourself, and it's times like these that you wish...no. that's not where you're going to let your mind wander today. today is all about violet, so as you rush out of the grocery store, you handle the store bought cupcakes with intense care. you can't be late and show up with smushed cupcakes.

thankfully this town is small enough that everything is within spitting distance, so you arrive at violet's school with just a few minutes left in her lunch. you hurry through the check in, rushing off to where you hope the lunchroom is. it would be just your luck to get lost right now, but you let out a breath of relief when you turn the corner and see the cafeteria ahead. you have to pause at the door to look for her class, and you hold back a sob when you see one very broad shouldered man sitting next to your beautiful daughter. you manage to walk up without violet seeing you, but at the sound of your footsteps, san turns. he smiles at you softly and he looks so much like violet it hurts. your eyes drift to your daughter, who's noticed you now and bounces in her seat.

"hey birthday girl," you say meekly, clearing your throat before you speak again. "how's your day been?"

"good!" violet smiles, showing you a half eaten vanilla cupcake with purple icing. "mr. choi brought me birthday cake!"

"aw, that's sweet," you say, looking to san. he's staring at you intensely as you ask, "did you tell him thank you?"

"i did!" violet confirms, but she turns to san and repeats, "thank you, it was yummy."

"do you have room for another?" you ask her, holding up the cupcakes you brought. violet already looks ready to bounce off the walls, so you'll have to apologize to jen later, but you ask if she wants to help pass out cupcakes to her friends. you hold the containers as she carefully hands out the treats, and you're pleased to know there were plenty of cupcakes for everyone. actually, there's some left over, so you start packing them up to take home but violet stops you.

"mommy, we need to give mr. choi one," she tells you, and you look to san sheepishly. "and there's one for you too, mommy!"

"i guess we're having cupcakes," you chuckle with san, offering him one of the last two cupcakes. "vi, can i take your spot?" she nods eagerly, letting you sit on the hilariously tiny lunch chair. you struggle balancing on it and look up to see san watching, trying not to laugh. violet is oblivious though, icing smeared all over her face as she talks to her friend across the table. "hey, no laughing. it's been a long day."

"sorry," san says, the remnants of a smile still on his face. "you doing alright?"

"i'm fine," you sigh slightly. you look at san again, really look at him, and you feel your heart constrict. "thank you for bringing her a cupcake."

"oh, sure," san says. "i didn't want to overstep, but jen told me yesterday, and i figured violet could at least take it home, but when i got here and didn't see, uh...you weren't here-"

"you can say it, i was late to my own kid's birthday," you laugh, rubbing your hand over your face. san finds himself staring at your fingers and something pops into his head.

"and again i ask, you doing alright?" he laughs with you. "being a parent must be hard."

"it has its bad days," you admit. "but for every bad day there's hundreds of good ones, so it makes the whole single parenting thing a little easier."

there it is. single. san looks down to your hands again, and has to hide his satisfied smirk. there's no ring.

"so, what-" san starts to ask, but the bell dings and the cafeteria erupts in even more sound. students talking, teachers yelling, chairs scraping as everyone is set in motion. jen walks over then, smiling when she sees you and san sat so close together. she waves hello before calling for her class, and you give violet a big squeezey hug and a kiss on the forehead before she takes her food and runs off. san watches you watching violet, and now it's his turn for his heart to twist. he's missed you. a lot.

"i guess i better go," you say as you gather all of the cupcake trash. san covers his hands over yours, stilling your movements and your heart, and says, "let me, i'll clean up."

"th-thank you san," you say shyly, and he waves you off. he can feel your eyes on him as he walks to the trash cans, and he can't help it, when he turns around he pulls a face that used to always make you laugh. his success rate is still high, because a beautiful giggle appears from deep within your chest, and then san is standing back in front of you. you know him, and you know there's something he wants to say, so you ask, "are you doing alright?"

"i'm fine," he nods, and you playfully push his shoulder. he smiles as he goes on, "actually, i was thinking about it, and i'll need your new number. for field day purposes, of course."

"oh," you breathe. "oh, right. room mom stuff. um, well unless you deleted my contact info, my number is the same."

"oh."

"yeah."

"right, then i guess i'm good," san says, looking around for any last bits of trash. "always good seeing you, y/n. tell violet happy birthday again from me."

"will do," you squeak out, calling out your thanks to him one last time as he walks away. you're left in the now silent lunchroom, heart and mind racing.

"i'm just saying, you and san would make a cute couple," jen repeats for what feels like the millionth time today. she's come over to your house early to help set up violet's birthday party, and you're thankful for the help but wishing the set up was less obvious. "you already know each other, so it's not like you'd have to go through that awkward dating phase-"

"did we put balloons on the mailbox already?" you cut through her words, grabbing a couple pink and purple balloons from the pile on the table. "i'll do that now, so people know which house it is. if vi wakes up, tell her i'll make birthday pancakes as soon as i'm done."

"will do," jen salutes you, taking the remaining balloons into the living room. "i'll tack these to the ceiling or something."

"please don't!" you call out before you shut the door, and you take a deep breath when you're outside alone. you don't know how to make jen stop talking about san, and it's draining. you've tried changing the subject and she always finds a way to bring san back into it. she means well, you know that. but what she doesn't know is that everything she says about san just rubs salt in the wound you inflicted on yourself, and it's getting harder to ignore. you're either going to snap and tell her to shut up, or you're going to snap and admit to what you've been hiding. either option isn't ideal, so fingers crossed violet wakes up soon and you can use her as a buffer.

tying the balloons to your mailbox ended up being more of an ordeal than you thought, so it takes you a while to trudge back into the house. you're tired already and the party hasn't started yet. you're making another cup of coffee when you realize the house is quiet, no sounds of jen and no sounds of vi. you let the coffee pot run as you walk around in search of the girls, and you hear a faint noise coming from the backyard. a peek through the window shows jen and violet running streamers from the back porch to vi's playset, and your heart warms. while they're outside, you get to work on the birthday pancakes in peace. you're almost done with them when you get a call, groaning to yourself thinking it's a parent calling about the party. you don't check the name before you answer, letting out a perfectly nice, "hello?"

"y/n, hi," san says on the other line. "is this a bad time?"

"um, n-no," you stammer, "it's um, no, i can talk. just for a minute."

"if you're busy i can call back-"

"no, san, go ahead," you insist. "just be warned i'm making pancakes, so i am a little distracted."

"oh yeah, you used to suck at those," san teases, and for a moment you're thrown back to college. you remember san staying over at your dorm, claiming he was too drunk to walk the fifteen steps down the hall. you let him crash on your floor, and he woke up to an awful hangover and the sound of you cursing over your batch of blackened pancakes. trying to be nice, san tried one anyway. you'll never forget the way you both belly laughed after he lied and said they were good with a look of fear in his eyes. later he admitted he'd never had something so bad, and you swore to never make pancakes again. san obviously remembers, because he asks, "what made you stop the pancake ban?"

"they're for vi's birthday."

"her birthday was on tuesday i thought?"

"yeah, but we're having her party today," you explain, and then you clap your hand to your forehead. you shouldn't have said anything.

"oh then i won't keep you," san says quickly. there's something strange in his voice, but you're so far removed from him that you can't pick up on it. "i hate to call about school stuff on the weekend, but this is the only time i had..."

while san explains the reason for his call (room mom duties + he missed you, but he leaves that part out), jen and violet come in from the backyard. streamers are done, and violet is wearing a torn one around her neck like a scarf. you wave her over for a hug and a kiss, and jen mouths, "who are you talking to?" so you show your phone screen. she gasps when she sees it's san, and it's like you're watching a lightbulb spring from her head. she's got an idea.

"invite him to the party!" jen hisses, and you push her away.

"is that the birthday girl?" san asks, and there's a softness in his voice that makes you melt. "do you need to go?"

"no, just one of the birthday elves being annoying," you grumble, trying to elbow away from jen but she grabs your phone anyway and says a cheery hello to her coworker.

"hey san! happy saturday," she starts off. "listen, are you doing anything around, say, one o'clock?"

"uh, not that i can think of-"

"great! then i'll have y/n text you her address, you should come to violet's party. there's plenty of food, and we'd love to see you!" jen says with an evil smile plastered on her face.

"um, can you hand me back to y/n?" san asks, and jen relinquishes your phone then disappears.

"san, you do not have to come if you don't want to, jen is-"

"jen's what!?" jen shouts from somewhere within your house.

"i want to come," san says, and you're so surprised you almost drop the pancake you're trying to flip. "if that's ok."

"i..." you trail off, and then you look at violet. sweet, lovely violet. you would do anything for that girl, but you know she deserves more. she deserves both parents, and the little part of you that's been wondering if san's reappearance was a sign is the part that wins you over. you say, "yeah, come to the party. i want you here."

"then i'm there," san says, and you can hear his smile. "should i bring a present?"

"no, god, don't worry about that. girl's spoiled already, she doesn't need another toy," you tell him, and san laughs.

"alright. then text me the address, and i'll see you soon i guess."

"yeah, see you soon," you mumble as you hang up and look around for jen. she's rightfully hiding somewhere, but violet's voice distracts you as she asks who you were talking to. "well sugar, i have an extra birthday surprise for you," you say as you plate her pancakes. "mr. choi might be coming to your party, is that ok?"

"mr. choi?!" violet shrieks as she stands in her chair. you remind her not to do that and she listens, but she looks at you and asks, "for seriously? he's my favorite teacher."

"hey," jen whines as she rejoins you, throwing away the remnants of wrapping paper in her hands. "and to think i got you the biggest coolest birthday present ever."

"really?" you and violet ask in unison, and jen nods enthusiastically at your daughter. when she joins you at the sink she whispers, "i didn't go overboard."

"yes you did," you whisper back.

"what did san want?" jen asks with that evil smile again, and you try to elbow her side but she darts away too quickly.

"i had told him about the game the kinder moms wanted our grade to do for field day, and he forgot what supplies it needed," you explain. "so he was calling about that, and the call was almost over when someone interrupted."

"y/n, listen," jen says sternly, and you both look over to violet to make sure she's distracted. jen keeps her voice down as she continues, "he likes you. don't ask me how i know, but i know. and the way you get so nervous around him, i know it sounds childish, but i think you have a crush on him-"

"jen," you say seriously. "please stop. you don't know what you're doing."

"no, y/n, you don't know what you're doing!" jen says, and you step back. "no, i don't mean it like that. i just mean, you said you were having a hard time doing this on your own. it may not be my place, but i think san could help. he'd be good for you and violet."

"you remember how san and i were friends years ago?" you ask, and jen nods, about to add to her case, but you cut her off. "we were close. really close."

"did you kiss?" jen asks excitedly and you roll your eyes.

"will you focus?" you smile anyway, and add, "we spent most of our time together, but then life stuff changed. we went in completely different directions, and it was just easier to say goodbye and go our separate ways. that was five years ago. well, six, now i guess," you correct yourself, your eyes betraying you as they flick back over to violet.

"oh my god," jen gasps. "no."

"yes."

"no way."

"yes."

"you're a liar."

"mommy's not a liar," violet chimes in, and you let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry. "miss jen, that wasn't very nice."

"i'm sorry violet, you're right," jen says calmly. she looks closely at violet and then to you. "but sometimes what's right is hard to do."

"i know that," you sigh. "believe me. but we can talk about this later."

"you bet your ass we are!"

"miss jen!"

"sorry, sorry!"

you and jen do a good job of ignoring the truth bomb you set off just before guests started arriving, but knowing san will be here soon keeps you on edge all day. violet is having the time of her life, which takes a little bit of pressure off of you at least. you just have to play host to your family and friends all while keeping one eye on the door for san.

he arrives just past one. you heard the doorbell from the backyard, but as you're walking through the house you see your aunt opening the door for him. it opens to a stunning version of the man you've tried so hard to hide from, and just looking at him makes you blush. he's dressed casually, but nicer than the work out clothes you see him in at the school. jeans and a sweater, and glasses. san never wore glasses in school, and you're wondering why this news is making your stomach flip. when san finds you, his face lights up. he makes his way around a group of kids and pulls you into a polite hug, mumbling his greeting into your hair. you wish time would stop for a moment, let you stay in his hold a second longer. but he's pulling away and shyly presenting a gift bag, his sheepish eyes saying "sorry but not sorry."

"i told you not to bring anything," you scoff, taking the gift over to the present table anyway.

"it's something small, but i think she'll like it," san says, and you thank him. it's awkward for a second as you both search for something to say, but in the quiet san reaches to push his glasses further up his nose and you smile.

"so you getting old, choi?" you tease him, pointing to the glasses. "how long have you needed those for?"

"just a couple years," san shrugs. "i don't mind them, but it's easier to wear contacts at work. i actually like the way they look."

"they're cute," you agree, and you feel your heart thudding in your chest as san processes the compliment. he looks around your house then, and he distractedly puts an arm around you in another hug as he says, "your house is great, by the way. you've really made a life for yourself, y/n." he looks at you while he says the next part, "i hope you're proud of yourself."

"i am," you nod, suddenly very aware of how many people are here and possibly looking at you two. you feign a cough and san gets the hint. he pulls away and you immediately feel cold, but you catch a glimpse of jen eyeing you in the corner of the room. you shake off whatever was distracting you because of the man at your side, and you're about to excuse yourself to find violet when the woman in question appears below you.

"mr. choi!!!" she shouts as she jumps in place. "you're here!"

"i am!" he replies, holding hands and jumping with violet. "are you having fun?"

"yeah! cmere, i wanna show you my swings!" she says excitedly, and then san is being dragged outside. you follow at a safe distance, wanting to see how they interact without making it too obvious you're watching san and not your kid. some of the school kids present recognize a big kid in san and soon he's got a whole herd following him around. you laugh seeing him be so silly, so freely himself with these kids, and you wonder if this is what he's like as a teacher. then you find your mind wandering to what san would be like as a dad. you know he'd be great, so what are you doing?

you know you have to tell him. you see the way violet is smiling and laughing, and you can't keep this kind of joy from her anymore. you don't know when, and you don't know how, but you will tell san that he's the father of your daughter.

violet's birthday party was perfect. she had an amazing time, her friends had an amazing time, and you had an amazing time. with san. he fit back into your life perfectly, and as you were saying your goodbyes at the end of the night, you had the intense desire to kiss him. you didn't, but that's only because jen came over with a sleepy violet that she thrust into your arms. you and san were cooing over the tired party girl and jen inconspicuously snapped a picture of the three of you. you and san, looking down at violet with so much love in your eyes, and violet smiling her biggest smile. jen texted it to you later and you were grateful to have this moment captured forever.

you were staring at that photo now, waiting for violet to finish getting ready for school. you weren't really paying attention to the time, caught up in admiring san. you felt a sense of calm and safety when you thought of him, looked at him, and you're kicking yourself for keeping that same feeling from violet's life. you were so distracted by your thoughts that you didn't hear violet walk up, so you almost jumped out of your skin when she says, "whatcha doooin?" directly into your ear.

"oh baby you scared me," you gasp. she giggles and points to your phone.

"you were staring at mr. choi!"

"i was not," you roll your eyes, but she nods and goes, "yeah huh."

"i'm not getting into a yeah huh nuh uh fight with you right now," you say as you ruffle her hair. "you ready for school?" it's then that you give her a once over and screw your face up in confusion. "where's that shirt from? i don't remember buying you that."

"it was my gift from mr. choi, 'member?" violet says proudly as she shows it off.

"yeah, yeah, i guess i do," you reply. "you wanted to wear it to school?"

"so i can tell him thank you," she says simply, and you place a soft kiss on her forehead. your sweet girl.

"i'm sure he'll be happy to see it. c'mon, let's go."

san had an awful morning. none of the classes would listen to him, half of his equipment for this unit was broken or missing, and apparently he was getting evaluated this afternoon. nothing was wrong, it was just protocol, but why did he find out about it two hours before it was supposed to happen? he was stressed, unprepared, and wearing a t shirt that apparently has a hole in the armpit. one of the unruly classes so kindly pointed that out for him. so yeah, it's been a bad day. that's why he sat down at lunch with a huff, interrupting whatever jen and wooyoung had been talking about prior to his dramatic entrance.

"what's wrong with you?" wooyoung asks bluntly, and san scoffs.

"one of those days where i'm considering child abandonment."

"san!" jen gasps.

"i'm joking, chill out," he sighs. "i just. can today be over? i'd like it to be over. or can i get a redo? that might be better, considering i have an eval today i know i'm not gonna pass."

"if you go into it like that then duh you're gonna do bad," jen says. "but it hasn't even happened yet, so why be so negative?"

"whatever," san huffs again, poking at his food like it's the root of his bad day. "how has your day been."

"great, my kids are angels and i love my job," wooyoung jokes, so san kicks him under the table.

"your class was the first one to put me in a bad mood this morning."

"yeah, because i told them i accidentally killed our class pet."

"wooyoung!" jen gasps again.

"accidentally!"

"how'd you manage that?" san asks with the beginnings of a smile on his face. not that he was laughing over the death of a very tiny pet, no. but he did enjoy seeing wooyoung making mistakes. makes the world go round, he thinks.

"i forgot to take it home for the weekend and i came in this morning to bob the beta fish belly up," wooyoung explains. he raises his carton of strawberry milk in a toast, which san and jen play along with. "he didn't live long, i didn't like him, and the kids barely knew he was there. bob, may you rest in peace."

"this isn't making me feel better," san whines as they clink their drinks together.

"oh!" jen says happily, "i have something!" she shuffles around looking for her phone, and excitedly pulls something up for san to see. she shoves the screen so close to his face he can barely see anything, so he takes her phone and blinks to let his eyes adjust. he smiles immediately when he realizes it's the picture of him, you, and violet. he's so mesmerized by your beauty, all these years later, that it takes him a minute to shift his focus to the equally beautiful violet squeezed between you. she's perfect, san thinks. if he had a kid, he'd want her to be just like violet: kind, funny, full of energy and life.

"who is that?" wooyoung asks, pushing his face close to san's to catch a glimpse. "ooo, is that your milf?"

it's jen's turn to kick him underneath the table, but san must admit, that was a little funny. he doesn't answer right away, though. something about the picture has caught his attention.

"no," jen says sternly since san has gone mute. "that's my friend y/n and her kid violet, we've talked about them before. san came to her birthday party this weekend."

"the milf?!"

"no!" jen repeats. "violet. i helped y/n with the party, and since she and san go way back, i kinda invited san without her knowing."

"nice," wooyoung nods. "good. get him into the house, and then into her heart. maybe the pants too-"

"dude," san finally cuts in. "what's wrong with you?"

"you two are boring me," he sighs. "sue me if i wanted to have a little fun with our conversation."

"you took this?" san asks jen, ignoring wooyoung now. she says yes, so he asks, "can i send it to myself? do you think y/n would mind?"

"no, i think that's fine," jen replies with a smile. "go ahead."

"thanks," san mumbles, typing his number in quickly to send the photo. he doesn't want to seem weird, sitting here staring at it, but there's still something he can't quite put his finger on. something familiar about it. not quite deja vu, but like he's seen this before. he hands jen's phone back to her, and she continues some inane argument with wooyoung as san checks his phone. huh, he thinks, taking one last look at the photo as he saves it to his library. violet sure has a nice smile.

san's day does not get better. the evaluation was mediocre at best, but the assistant principal doing the visit pulled him aside and promised better equipment in the new year. at least one good thing came out of this awful day.

well, two good things. san keeps opening his phone just to stare at that picture of himself with you and violet. his desire to patch things up with you only continues to grow, and he's been thinking about you so much that he swears he hears your voice calling his name at the end of the day. then a squeakier, tinier voice joins in, and san realizes, oh shit, you and violet are in his office.

"hey, sorry," he shakes his head to clear his thoughts. "god, sorry. how long were you standing there?"

"not long," you assure him. "i hope we're not bothering you?"

"not at all," he says as he stands. violet runs up to him then, turning from side to side with her hands clasped in front of her. san laughs, looking from her to you as he asks, "what's going on?"

"vi had a surprise for you, and she forgot she didn't have pe today so she got into the car crying because you didn't get to see it," you explain. "we turned around as soon as i got the story, and now we're here. do you recognize her shirt at all?"

"oh my god!" san smiles, violet joining in. san bends down to pick her up and swings her around to the sound of giggles. "you're wearing my present! do you like it?"

"i do!" she chirps, hiccuping a little as the giggles continue. san slows and carefully places her back down as she says, "thank you for coming to my party."

"thank you for inviting me," san replies, and you realize he's talking to you. you consider telling him now, you can feel his gaze pulling the words right out of you, but you chicken out.

"thank jen," you remind him. "she's the one who ambushed me."

"ambush?" san laughs nervously. "i hope me coming over wasn't an ambush."

"i shouldn't have said that," you shake your head. "i just." you take a deep breath. "it's been hard, you know, seeing you again. getting used to you being back in my life."

"happy to be here," san says coolly, and you pick up on the undertones. you knew he must have been upset with you, only wanting him when you couldn't have him. he'd given you so many chances to be his, but you grasped the last one. san was mad at himself first, and he's not mad at you per se, but the memory of that still hurts. he could have been in your life, violet's life, this whole time. it was you who kept the door bolted shut. now it's like there's little cracks filtering in bits of sunlight, and you're basking in them. you're just afraid that the warmth you feel from san now will burn you someday, that your past will be too hard to get over, and you can't tell him about violet until you know how he really feels.

"listen, we should go, but i want to hang out with you soon," you tell him, and san looks at you confused. "we need to catch up, don't you think?"

"sure," san agrees. "let me know where to be and when, i'll make it work."

that friday night, you have a babysitter (jen) and plans to meet san for dinner. jen is already here, you can hear her and violet whispering about something in the living room as you finish getting ready. this is not a date, but you're so nervous it might as well be. you could end up telling san tonight, if things go right. and if they go wrong...that's what's making you so nervous. the anxious side of you is already thinking of schools you can move violet to if the night goes bad, and the optimist is thinking about san finally being a dad to violet.

it's like he knew you were thinking about him, because his caller id lights up your phone (yes, his contact photo is that picture).

"you're cancelling," you say as soon as you pick up.

"what? no, freak," san chuckles. "i'm outside, but i'm sorry, i can't remember if your house has the red door or the blue one."

"you're what?" you ask, walking from your room to the front door. jen and violet watch on in curiosity, and you let out a sound of disbelief when you open the door to see san, standing by his car, looking from your house to the one next door.

"oh. found it," he teases, hanging up as he comes to the door. "you're not ready yet?"

"no, because i thought we were meeting there, i had more time," you say as you check your phone and notice you actually did not have time. "ok, i thought i had more time, but still. you didn't say you were picking me up."

"surprise?" san says sheepishly, peeking inside to wave to the girls.

"hi mr. choi!" they respond in unison, and san chuckles again.

"um, well, i wasn't expecting- i still have to-" you stammer out, basically turning in circles before staring back up at san. "give me two minutes."

"two? it'll be more like ten," san calls after you. you sort of sprint back to your room, checking that you look put together. your eyes look nervous, though. you hope san can't pick up on that. you grab your favorite necklace, one that violet picked out for you recently, and hold onto the heart pendant as you take a deep breath. you can do this. it's just san, your old pal! your friend! the father of your daughter who has no idea his life could have been completely different or that it's going to change with the information you're about to give him! great! let's go eat some tacos!

you and san both give violet hugs goodbye (she insisted) and jen says goodbye with a wiggle of her eyebrows. she thinks this is a date, and she spent an appropriate amount of time hyping you up tonight. she's known san more recently, so she gave you good insight on the whole telling him situation. she assured you that, while he may be frustrated by you not telling him sooner, under it all he'll be happy. he's wanted a family of his own since he started working at the school, so she's sure he'll be nothing but thrilled once the initial shock wears off. boy do you hope she's right.

san is being such a gentleman. first picking you up, then rushing out of the car to open your door for you, pulling your chair out at the restaurant...it's making this feel like a date. it's also making you scared that you're going to chicken out, but you can't.

"so," san says with a :] smile. "what did you want to talk about?" you take a moment to mess with the chips and salsa in front of you before you respond. you're taking so long that san takes a deep breath and starts, "i hope you know i'm not mad at you."

"what?" you ask in a small voice, chip halfway to your mouth.

"i'm not mad at you," san goes on. "i never was. i hope you know that."

"but i was a dick," you tell him, and he lowers his head with a laugh. you want him to listen to you though, so you grab his hand laid out on the table and squeeze. "no, seriously, that was such an asshole move on my part. only letting down my walls and letting you in the night before we both moved away? i've never forgiven myself for that."

"but you should," san shrugs. "i understand. i'm glad it happened. if i had to choose, i'd rather it happen the exact same way than not happen at all."

"right," and now it's your turn to look down. you let go of san's hand and go back to messing with the food in front of you. "i'm still sorry for how i acted."

"it's ok, i promise," san assures you. you aren't looking at him so he clears his throat and says, "actually, while we're talking about...back then. i have something to tell you too." oh no, you think. you nod to encourage him to continue, not sure you can speak right now. "um, well, here goes. i know it's been years, and we've barely talked since school, but..i don't know, y/n. i still think you're the one for me, and i was just wondering, maybe, since we're both in the same town again, and we see each other so often..."

"what, san?" you whisper, afraid of what he's going to say.

"will you go out with me?" he asks. "finally?"

"san," you sigh, and he shakes his head.

"no, don't say no yet. you can think about it. i know you have a lot more to consider than i do, so i don't mind waiting. but i wanted to put it out there. in case, uh, in case you were interested."

"put it out there? why are you talking about this like a couch you're trying to get rid of?" you tease him to ease the tension. "you just asked me out and now you sound like you're not sure."

"i'm sure," san says firmly. "very sure. but i don't want you to feel pressured."

"you've never made me feel anything but loved, san," you let slip, and you want to etch the look on his face into your memory forever. he looks so pleased, so purely happy at your words. they're hanging in the air as the waiter comes by to take your order, and that provides enough of a distraction that you both go back to a semblance of normalcy when he leaves. you fall into an easy conversation, catching up over your lost years. san tells you all about work, his family, his friends. it makes you happy that you chose this town, this school, to raise your kid in.

you fill san in too, but only the highlights. you don't want to ruin your dinner with the news, so you tell him about your career since he knows the least about that. he can't stop telling you how proud he is, and reiterates how amazing you are for raising a kid on top of it. you've got a steady blush on your cheeks as you keep chatting, and you notice then that the meal is over. your plates have been cleared for a while, and san paid without you knowing. how'd he do that?

"i was going to pay for my food," you protest.

"nope, my treat," san says. "let someone else take care of you for once."

"well thanks," you squeak out. "i've got you next time though."

"if there's a next time, i'm still paying," san replies so you roll your eyes and drop it for now. "um, before we go though, i was wondering...can i ask about violet? i feel like you barely mentioned her."

"oh, sorry," you laugh it off. "i don't get a chance to talk about myself a lot, so i'm not saying i forgot to mention vi, i just..."

"i get it," san nods in understanding. "you wanted to brag about yourself for a minute, that's ok. i'm glad you did."

"good," you smile shyly. "but, yeah, violet. what about her?"

"i wanna hear as much as you're willing to tell me," san says, and looking into your eyes, you know he means the father. "was there some great love of your life you don't want to tell me about?"

"san, it's not like that," you tell him, then think to yourself that in a way it is true. you think san is the love of your life, but you can't say that yet. "right, well, i have something to tell you, actually," you say in a voice stronger than you expected. you thought you'd be nervous, but it's like some mom power kicks in and you're able to stare directly into san's strong, gorgeous eyes as you speak. "can i?" you motion to his hands, and he holds them out so you can place your smaller ones in his. still looking into the eyes you've grown to love, you take a deep breath and say, "i'm sorry i didn't tell you sooner. but san, you're violet's dad. she's your daughter."

"what?" he asks in a shaky voice.

"when we.." you try to explain, and have to start over, "that night. five years ago-"

"six," san corrects.

"six, you're right. that night was when she...yeah. i found out about violet a month later, after i had moved. i tried calling you. i did, i swear, and i know that sounds so childish but it's the truth. i tried calling you, tried figuring out how to tell you...but i heard how happy you were, how easy it was for you to settle into your life back at home. i didn't want to throw something unexpected at you and change all of that."

you rambled, and you're not sure how easy that was to follow. or how believable it was either, but you've said it. you're watching san take it in, and he's unnervingly calm. you can't read his face at all, but you realize you've been squeezing his hands and he's squeezing yours right back. you relax your grip then, but he doesn't. he stays quiet.

"san, say something."

"th-thank you," he stutters, finally slipping his hands out of yours. "thanks for protecting me from that, i guess."

"san, i-"

"no, y/n, it's fine," he shakes his head and stands. "come on, let's go. it's getting late."

the car ride is silent. san says nothing, but you can feel the emotions radiating from him. or maybe those are your own? fear, resentment, sadness...you always thought telling san the truth would make everything better. make you feel at peace at last. but currently you feel more ill at ease than you ever have. you want to crawl out of your skin, you want to scream at yourself, at san, just to get some kind of reaction out of him.

when he pulls into your driveway, he puts the car in park but doesn't unlock the door. you can tell he wants to say something, so you wait. you think you see jen peeking through the blinds, but you're not sure. a quick glance at the clock tells you violet's been in bed for a while, but knowing jen she probably let her stay up a little longer. you hope she's still awake when you go in, you could really use a hug from her right now.

"y/n," san calls your name softly. you turn your body completely so he can see you fully, and you see he's gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. "does she know?"

"huh?"

"violet," san says her name so carefully, so purposefully. like it's taken on a new meaning. "does violet now i'm her dad?"

"n-no," you stutter, and san slumps his head down. "but i told her about you. about her dad."

"she looks just like me," he says, and that's when you notice the sadness in his voice. he sounds broken, and it feels like your heart rips itself to shreds.

"san, i am so sor-"

"don't. just don't." you watch him carefully, and you think you see tears. "i can't..."

"can't what?" you want to reach out and touch him, to brush the tears away, but you hesitate.

"i can't believe you kept this from me," he says in a whisper so small you barely heard it.

"i was young and stupid and scared, san," you defend yourself. "i didn't know what i was doing, i should have tried harder to get in touch but-"

"i didn't get to be there y/n," he spits out, and you stop talking as he turns to you. "i missed her birth, her first steps, her first words. i wasn't in her life! she's my kid and you kept her from me for some of the most important years of her life."

"i know, and i'm..i'm sorry."

"sorry doesn't cut it." he's full on crying now. "i thought...i thought you cared about me. about what we meant to each other. how could you do this?"

"i was wrong to keep you away," you admit. "it ate me alive every day, but the longer i waited the harder it was to call you. and this is totally self inflicted but raising a kid on my own was hard! after i made that choice i barely had time to think about anything else!" you're shouting now, not out of anger, but frustration. "it was selfish, and i'm sorry. but i told you. you've always been part of violet's life. i tell her about her dad all the time. she asks about you, and i've never lied to her. i only kept your name, who you are to me, a secret."

"yeah that makes me feel so much better," san rolls his eyes, and you scoff before reaching over him to unlock the doors. as soon as you do, you're out of the car and rushing to your front door, san running behind you calling your name.

you get into the house and see jen moving around in the kitchen, but no signs of violet. san has stopped behind you, standing awkwardly at the threshold, so you grab his shirt and pull him along with you into violet's room. at the sound of the door opening she bolts up in bed. she looks confused, seeing two figures in her doorway, but when she recognizes you she makes little grabby hands for you to join her. again, san stays at the door, watching the two of you with a new perspective.

"cmere sugar," you whisper softly, sitting on violet's bed. you maneuver her so she's sitting on your lap.

"why is mr. choi here?" she asks, and you hear san take in a breath.

"his name is san, violet. and he's very important to me," you explain. violet is facing san as you ask, "can you tell us all you know about your daddy?" she nods, and then begins.

"mommy says he's very nice, the nicest man in the world!" violet starts out. "she says he's smart and strong and funny and handsome. she says i have his smile!" and with this she smiles, teeth and all, and san sees himself in her. it brings tears to his eyes, but she keeps going. "mommy says he's caring, and i had to ask what that meant. she says being caring means you're a good friend and you're nice to everybody. that reminds me of you, mr. san!"

"anything else baby?" you ask violet, stroking her hair. "what else do we say about daddy?"

"we love him very much," violet answers proudly. "and even if he's not with us, like in the same house or something, he's always right here!" and with that she puts her hand over her heart. she looks up at you then, asking, "did i miss anything mommy?"

"nope, you got it all sugar," and you kiss the top of her head, afraid to meet san's eyes. "thank you, violet. are you ready to go back to bed now?"

"yeah, but i want a bedtime story," she pouts, and you wonder if san notices how similar they look then too. "babysitter jen does too many funny voices, and one of them scared me."

"ok, i'll read you a story," you whisper, slowly and carefully dumping her back into bed as you stand. "but i need to talk to san really quick, is that ok?"

"uh huh," violet nods with a yawn, cuddling back up to her favorite stuffie. as san looks around her room, he notices a pillow he used to have, tucked in the corner of violet's bed. he used to call it shiber, it was something silly, but he loved that thing in college. it went missing the week before school ended, and san always wondered where it went. well, now he knows.

you carefully pull violet's door shut as the two of you back out into the hallway. the rest of the house is quiet, so you wonder briefly if jen has gone home. you look to san, ready to defend yourself further, get him to understand where you're coming from, but then you see the tears on his cheeks. now you do reach up and wipe them away, his hands covering yours and squeezing tightly.

"i am so sorry for keeping you away," you say one last time. "it was wrong. it will take time, but i will do everything i can to make that up to you."

"you can do it right now," san breathes out, the first easy breath he's taken since this conversation started. "let me be in her life. in yours. i missed so much, i can't miss anymore of it."

"we're here if you want us," you tell him, and san squeezes your hands again before pulling them from his face. he drapes your arms over his shoulders, his drifting to your waist.

"i do," he nods eagerly. "i want you." and with that, he kisses you. it's not a soft kiss, no. there's more force behind it than that. there's six years (maybe more) of repressed feelings in that kiss. it's the kind of kiss that makes you want to pop your foot up, the kind that sends butterflies soaring up from your stomach through your chest. you're so lost in the feeling that you don't hear violet's door open, and then...

"oh! mommy! mr. san is biting you!" violet shrieks, so you and san finally detach. you keep your foreheads together as you look down at violet staring disapprovingly at you.

"he's not biting me, we were kissing," you explain to her, but she doesn't like that answer.

"hey, i got in trouble for kissing a boy on the playground," she whines, and san looks at you in shock. you nod to confirm as you tell her, "that's because you shouldn't kiss at school. and you're too young. you can kiss when you're-"

"thirty," san finishes for you, making you both laugh as violet whines more.

"i was just gonna say when she's older," you whisper to him, and he shrugs.

"had to assert my parenting style somehow."

"why are you and mr. san whispering?" violet asks with a jump and her arms in the air. you're about to pick her up when san bends down and scoops her instead, so you can talk to her eye level.

"we're talking about you," you say as you boop her nose. "and stop calling him mr. san."

"what do i call him then?" she pouts, and you share your first silent parent language stare with san.

"actually baby, we have something we need to tell you..."

839 notes · View notes

httpiastri · 4 months

Note

literally any driver: burying head in crook of neck, night kisses and shutting the other up with kisses

lacii my love <3<3 did this with lando, hope that's fine! merry christmas again, and i hope you enjoy this!! 😁

"lando, did i tell you about that time when i first met my friend clara?" the words are flowing out of your mouth like you're spitting bars. your boyfriend doesn't even get a chance to answer your question before you've started talking again. "oh my god, it's a great story. you'll love it. so, i was in a french class when my other friend, sarah-"

lando is smiling subconsciously as you ramble on about your adventures, just as you have ever since he picked you up from the club. his fingers help you slip out of your heels – not that you even seem to understand what's going on, way too focused on speaking – before one of his hands lands on your waist. he takes a deep breath to keep his composure and hold back the laughter threatening to burst from his chest at your continuous gibberish, before he guides you to his bedroom with soft touches. he chuckles quietly at the way you almost take the wrong turn and end up in his kitchen, too engaged in your storytelling to remember the layout of his apartment. he isn't surprised, though, because;

alcohol always makes you blabber.

in most situations, you're not the most talkative, preferring to choose your moments to speak with great care. but when you start to get tipsy, it is like you are the world's greatest extrovert. even after getting just a little alcohol in your system, you talk to anyone with ears, somehow assuming that they're really interested in whatever you're ranting about.

thankfully, if you have your friends around, they usually drag you away by your arm, apologizing to the poor stranger to whom you've over-explained the storyline of your favorite movie.

lando learned about this side effect of your drinking early on in your relationship. on your third date, after sharing a few drinks at a local bar, you wouldn't shut up for half an hour, not giving him a second to interject with anything. he'd been surprised, but mostly confused, until he got your text message the following morning: oh my god, i did it... didn't i?

he'd tried to pretend he didn't know what you meant, wanting to put it all behind you, but you'd persisted. i didn't shut up. i never do when i drink. i'm sorry :(

lando was always one to be quick to forgive and forget, not wanting you to feel too bad. everyone does some questionable things when drunk, and he'd seen tons of people act worse than you did. but after that date, there would be uncountably many more occasions of you not being able to hold back when booze was in the picture. award shows, drinking games at home with friends, podium celebrations. once, he even found you outside a club after a race, sitting on the curb with one of your hands petting a stray dog as your other helped you explain the meaning of life. safe to say, he is used to your habits by now.

so tonight, when he picked you up from your night out with a few of your friends, he wasn't surprised that your mouth didn't shut once during the trip back to his apartment. you were excitedly telling him about the people you'd met and the drinks you'd had, so eager to explain every detail to your boyfriend when you were getting into the car that you forgot about everything around you and he had to lean across the console to put on your seatbelt for you.

most of the time, he finds your habit endearing. but sometimes, like right now, it gets just a little tiresome.

"and then, when jamie came around, she was like, what are you doing?, and i was like, i'm just having some fun!"

you're both sitting on the edge of his bed by now, after lando's helped you change into something more comfortable for the night, your mouth still running like you're one of the gilmore girls. you don't even flinch when his hands reach for your cheeks and he stares intently in your eyes – but he can't do anything other than smile.

lando loves your voice. he loves it when you're whispering something in his ear when you're out with friends, when you're ranting to him about some stupid coworker, and maybe especially when you're moaning and whining his name.

but now, he reckons you've talked enough for today. your vocal cords must be sore, and his ears are about to fall off, so it's time to call it a night – and he only sees one way to shut you up.

mid-sentence, lando leans in, pressing his lips to yours. he swallows the yelp you let out in surprise, one of his hands gliding to the back of your neck to keep you close. it doesn't take long for you to relax into the kiss, your lips moving with his while your hands reach for the neckline of his hoodie.

it's so easy to get lost in kissing lando. when he parts the kiss, you find yourself wanting to seal your lips again, already missing the feeling. your mind is now completely blank; all you can think of is the kiss. the man beside you laughs at your hazy expression, utterly amused by how you're suddenly quiet for more than five seconds (something he's sure hasn't happened yet tonight).

when you slowly open your eyes, the very content look on lando's face makes something click in your mind. he sudden kiss, his big grin...

"was i rambling again?"

the silence that follows gives you your answer, and you throw your head back as you let out a little groan. "hey, don't worry about it."

"i really didn't mean to. you know how it is, it just happens, and i don't really feel it as it happens, you know? it's just, the alcohol, it's not my intention. i actually told sarah today that-"

and for the second time, lando pulls you into him, quieting you down with his own lips. this time, as you (for the most part) understand what he's doing, you can't help but giggle into the kiss. your boyfriend matches your smile, taking your bottom lip between his teeth as a joking warning. he lets it flop back against your teeth as he pulls away to look at you again, but you've already lunged forward, head resting against his shoulder.

"i'm sorry," you start, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. "i really am."

his arms snake around your waist before he leans back against the bed, pulling you down with him and into his side. "don't be," he answers, one of his hands reaching up to the back of your head, stroking your hair. "it's cute. you're cute." you continue hiding in his skin and he makes himself more comfortable in bed, pulling the blanket over you both. "we'll talk more tomorrow, okay?"

he feels you shake your head. "i'm done talking. i've talked enough. you know those tiktok videos where you only have a certain amount of words you're allowed to say every year? that's me. i've run out of words, i used them all today."

"oh yeah, i can tell," lando chuckles, pressing his lips to the top of your head. "close your eyes, baby. tell me about those tiktok videos tomorrow."

"didn't you hear me? i said no more words. i won't talk tomorrow because-"

lando sighs. it's going to be a long night.

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judeswhore · 1 year

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hell is when i fight with you; jude bellingham

summary: you might be in the middle of a fight but jude can’t let you leave without saying he loves you

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

warnings: angst? idk actually

notes: you can find my masterlist here. this is for my number 1 fan who absolutely cannot stand my work💅🏻

jude was in the kitchen when you went to grab your coffee, his back to you while he fiddled with the loaf of bread. you knew he knew you were there, his shoulders had tensed the second you’d walked through the door, a momentary pause in his movements but he didn’t turn around. not that you wanted him to, you were sure your dwindling anger would only return if you met his gaze. it had been almost three hours since you’d last spoken a word to each other and the tension in the room was almost suffocating.

thankfully the coffee machine was on the other side of the room, offering you well wanted space between you and your boyfriend, the kitchen island a physical buffer between the two of you. waiting for the machine to kick in you could hear jude shuffling around, his sock clad feet quiet against the floor.

“what time will you be back?”

“six.” silence followed, seeming even louder than before but again, neither of you rushed to fill it. the coffee machine spluttered. jude coughed and let the bin lid fall with a clatter. someone’s car backfired a few streets over. somewhere in the very back of your mind you knew you were both being petty. the argument wasn’t over anything serious, it was silly in retrospect but you were stubborn, jude even more so, therefore the likelihood of a civilised conversation before you left for work was unlikely.

you felt his heat against your back before he’d actually stepped up behind you, your body attuned to his every move but you remained still and quiet, even when his hand appeared in front of you. his chest was warm against your shoulder, the scent of his shower gel and aftershave washing over you in an unwanted comforting wave. he dropped a freshly made box of sandwiches and fruit in front of you.

“make sure you eat this,” there was still a hard edge to his voice, gruff around the edges and forced out around a scowl. he hesitated for only a moment, a second of waiting to see if you had anything to say but all he got was a noncommittal hum in reply. you knew he was rolling his eyes. the coffee finished pouring and again the flat was completely silent.

jude’s lips found your temple, soft and warm, lingered a little longer than necessary before he was stepping back, cold flooding your side in an instant. his kiss, however brief, had made your heart jump, heat curling low in your tummy but you still didn’t lift your eyes to his, intent on standing your ground. he was already halfway across the kitchen before he spoke again, the words low and just edging on passive aggressive, enough so that you turned to glower at him.

“i love you, be safe.” he didn’t give you chance to return the admission or to fight it and his tone, simply left without a second glance back. all you could do was huff, shoving your lunch into your bag, fixing the lid on your flask all the while muttering under your breath about that “awful stubborn man”. you weren’t sure what you were most annoyed about. that he’d made you lunch as if you couldn’t yourself, at the tone of his voice or that fact he hadn’t let you tell him you loved him too. you decided on all three as you headed for the door.

you thought about slamming it behind you but you weren’t that childish and so instead you wrestled your phone from the bottom of your bag, pulling up his contact as you headed down onto the street. you might be fighting and you might just slightly think he’s an idiot but that didn’t lessen your real feelings for him and clearly jude felt the same. you sent the text before putting him individually on do not disturb, content with leaving it at that.

i love you too.

jude could sense something was off (other than your obvious argument) the second you stepped through the door, feet half stomping across the floor into the bedroom. you’d kicked your shoes off in the hallway, hung your coat on the rack but you half launched your bag down onto the chair in front of the dresser in a huff. he was sprawled on the bed, feet crossed at the ankles, phone in hand but he paused his scroll through tiktok in favour of watching you trudge into the adjoining bathroom.

it was dark in the room but jude caught sight of your face, pinched and drawn in, eyes dull and a little heavy and something inside of him lurched when he realised you might have been crying. you looked exhausted, weary and warn out and that one expression had all previous thoughts of fighting out of the window. he was quick in clambering from the bed, following you into the en suite where he watched you pull out your face cleansers. he’d been right about the crying, your eyes were still glassy.

“baby,” you jumped, dropped the face wash with a clatter into the sink and your gaze met his through the mirror with a tired and only half withering scowl. when you made no effort to answer, jude shuffled forward, hands sliding around your waist, curling tight around you as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head. “hey, what’s up?”

“nothin’”

“don’t give me that, why’ve you been crying?”

“i haven’t,” you wriggled free of his grip, batting his hands away from you so you could pick the fallen cleanser back up. “i poked myself in the eye.” he was having none of that, the feeling of guilt and unease only getting heavier in his chest over thoughts that you’d been crying because of him. his fingers curled around yours and he tugged, shushing your complaints with a shake of his head.

with a huff you went quiet, let him guide you to the bed where he settled back into his old spot, pulled you until you were between his open legs, head against his chest. despite your early protests the second he settled you against him you relaxed, wrapped your arms around his waist and tucked your nose away in the soft cotton of his shirt. the second you were tangled together it was like your earlier fight had never happened, the need to be the one to hold out the silent treatment the longest completely disregarded.

jude brushed a hand over the back of your head.

“what happened?”

“nothing, honestly, i just- it was just a bad day.” he stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, knowing that wasn’t the end and you’d carry on. you pressed closer to him, slipped one hand under his shirt to seek comfort in the warmth of his skin and heaved a sigh. “everything went wrong, everything! during my lunch break i spilt coffee all over my paperwork and then i got yelled at because they were ruined. and on my way home it started raining and i dropped my phone because my hands were slippery and the screen cracked and i couldn’t call you because now it won’t work.”

“hey,” jude’s voice was soft, his hand rubbing comfortingly along the length of your arm, his head dipping so he could press a long kiss to the crown of your head. he left his lips there even as he spoke. “i’m sorry you got yelled at, baby, but the paperwork is digital too right?” you gave a small nod. “so you can just reprint, whoever yelled at you should’ve known that and should treat their employees with a bit more respect, we all make mistakes.”

“but-“

“no, no buts,” he brushed his hand across your jaw when you turned so your cheek was pressed to his chest, ran his thumb under your eye to clear the fallen tears. he wasn’t sure when you’d started crying again but it tugged painfully at his heart, his brow crinkling even as he nuzzled into your hairline. “and we can fix your phone, tomorrow, i’ll take it into town and get someone to look at the screen, okay?”

he kissed your forehead before tapping his fingers under your chin, urging you to lift your head to look at him. it took a few seconds, your sniffles and slightly hitched breaths the only sound in the room, but when you did jude slipped his hand along your jaw. your bottom lip wobbled when he brushed away a few more tears.

“and i’m sorry about this morning, i was a dick and being unfair and i shouldn’t have let you leave without apologising first.” you were shaking your head before he’d even finished, wiping aggressively at your eyes with your own hand.

“i’m sorry, too. i was over dramatic when i didn’t need to be and it was petty. i didn’t wanna talk to you before i left because i didn’t want you to think you’d won.” jude huffed a little laugh at that, leant forward to brush the tip of his nose against your temple. he kissed the same spot a second later.

“we’re both childish and stubborn.”

“we’re stupid.”

“yeah.” he laughed again, shifted so he could cup your face in both hands and bring you in closer. you clung a little harder to him. “i’m still sorry about your day, especially if the argument made it worse. y’gonna let me make it up to you?”

“you don’t have to, we were both wrong.”

“but i want to. let me run you a bath and we can order in food? or i’ll cook you something.” your head shook, face twisting a little and you leant into jude’s palm when he stroked your cheek again. you’d stopped crying but the puffy skin and glassy sheen in your eyes still made his chest ache. he kissed the spot between your eyebrows, a soothing gesture in hopes of settling you.

“you’re an awful cook.”

“yeah, i was hoping you’d say no.” he grinned at you. “chinese? i’ll order it while you’re in the bath and i’ll shove one of my hoodies in the dryer so it’s warm when you get out.”

“jude-“ he shook his head and pressed his forehead to yours.

“let me make you feel better. please.” you could only nod at that, a shuddering breath fanning against his lips. you gave a slow blink and his lips tilted into a soft smile before he pitched forward to kiss you. before he could however your face scrunched and your turned away, his mouth instead landing on your cheek.

“what’re you-“

“i’m all snotty.”

“so? i love you and your snotty nose, so c’mere and let me kiss you.” jude didn’t really give you any chance to protest, his pointer finger hooked beneath your chin, thumb pressed soft just below your bottom lip and he closed his mouth over yours.

the kiss was slow, a gentle drag of his lips across yours, tongues brushing soft and languid and each shared breath was a whisper of apology. he kissed you with careful movements, his free hand sliding down your arm to wrap around your wrist and lift it up. when his lips left yours, his chin tilted down and he pressed a feather light kiss to the palm of your hand.

“i love you.” you were nodding, gripping the back of his head to lead him back to your burning mouth.

“i know, i love you, too.”

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham fic

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aemrsy · 1 month

Text

booze n' loving

a\n: can we pls appreciate the fact that the picture in the middle is jake and johnnie's actual kitchen because it's the inspiration behind the entire fic 😭

summary: you drink a little too much while partying but thankfully the party is at your boyfriend johnnie's house

tw: drinking, being drunk

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the floor of your room was a mess due to the tornado that had happened in your closet whenever you were picking out your outfit.

you were sitting amongst the mess of clothes on the floor doing your makeup in the mirror you truly believed that if your not doing your makeup on the floor you're not doing it right.

you had paramore playing in the background but the music was disrupted by a ding you looked down at your phone, it was tara.

hey love, i'm on my way to urs x

9:57

drive safe x

9:57

you put your phone down in your lap finishing up your makeup. you and tara had a party to go to tonight at jake and johnnie's, this would be the first party you've gone to in a minute so you were a little nervous but the fact that it was at your boyfriend's house made you feel a lot more comfortable.

you knew you'd probably end up spending the night there so you packed up all your little essentials in a small bag.

you got up off the floor taking one good look at yourself before smiling and tucking a hair behind your hair.

you got a call from tara indicating that she had arrived so you hurried to the front door.

her blindingly pink car was indeed there she smiled as she motioned for you to come and get in.

you got in the car before giving tara one of those awkward car hugs. her hair smelled like her signature perfume and she was wearing the glasses she had stolen from you last time she came over.

"tar, you smell amazing"

she giggled her laugh was always so contagious

"babe you look amazing..tonight is gonna be so great i can't wait"

you nodded in excitement. tara's phone was connected to the car's bluetooth but she wasn't playing anything it was quiet but it was a comfortable slince that's until it was disrupted by tara's phone ringing on the car's speaker.

"dude did you pick up y/n yet?"

it was jake you could hear the chattering and loud music in the background

"yeah we're on our way we'll be there in about 5 minutes?"

she said in a question-esque tone

"mkay drive safe"

he hung up and the rest of the car ride was nice and quiet

you made it there and tara ran in immediately this was her scene she's definitely a party girl at heart.

you on the other hand walked in and scanned the room searching for johnnie, the kitchen counter was cluttered with drinks and you saw a few familiar faces before seeing your boyfriend leaning against the edge of the counter your face lit up as you approached him.

he grabbed you by the waist and you gave him a soft peck on the lips

"hey baby"

he said looking at you sweetly

"hey handsome"

you giggled as he peppered your neck in kisses still holding onto your waist. he smelled like cologne and jack daniels.

"i need a drink"

you said before turning around to face the counter fixing yourself a jack and coke.

one turned into two and three and now it had been four you were wasted out of your mind but it was a fun kind of wasted you felt so loose and comfortable just free.

you were by the pool table dancing with tara she also wasted out of her mind you guys were laughing at absolutely everything and everyone. a couple hours had passed since you guys had arrived it was definitely somwhere in the am's right now.

your horrible dancing and obnoxious giggling was interrupted by your boyfriend pulling your fifth drink out of your hands.

"okay.. i think that's enough sweetheart"

he said chuckling, you looked up at him and gave him a big goofy smile.

"johnnieeeeee"

you said as you practically fell into his arms he held you up gently tucking stray hairs out of your face.

you noticed jake walk outside probably for a smoke you weren't a smoker but let's be real drunk cigarettes don't count and a smoke sounds really good right about now.

you stumbled out of johnnie's arms after excusing yourself and made your way over to jake in the balcony. johnnie sighed following you to the balcony leaving tara to mingle with everyone else.

"hey jakee"

you said slurring your words and stretching your e's

"woah nelly, someone's out of it"

he said in his southern-esque accent with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"you got another one of those?"

before jake had a chance to reply johnnie came up behind you handing you water and told you to drink up. you weren't a big drinker it was very rare that you'd drink like this but it wasn't a cause for concern you were just trying to have fun.

you gave in and chugged down some water. he pulled you in and kissed you on the forehead.

jake stood there puffing on his cigarette he gave johnnie a look and motioned that he should take you back inside before you go asking anyone else for cigarettes.

johnnie did as he was told the party got quiter people were leaving. you and johnnie cuddled up on the couch he was stroking your hair while talking to someone on the other side of the couch you could feel yourself slowly drifting to sleep.

you woke up later to the house being almost completely empty but you and johnnie were still in the same spot on the couch you looked up at him before speaking.

"hey where's everyone?"

you got up looking around holding your head that was throbbing with a headache.

"they left babe, you drank a little too much and fell asleep on me i didn't wanna wake you up so i just let you."

you groaned laying back on him

"can we go up to your room? i'm sleepy."

you said still slurring your words, he got up taking your hand in his you both walked up to his room you kicked off your boots and opened johnnie's closet picking out a band shirt you stripped to your bra and panties and slipped the t-shirt over your head you fell onto the bed and let out a satisfied sigh.

johnnie followed after you the two of you got under the sheets he was rubbing circles around your back as you nuzzled your head into his chest and drifted off once again into a comfortable sleep.

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#jake and johnnie #johnnie and jake #jake webber #jake webber x reader #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert x reader #tara yummy x reader #tara yummy #johnnie guilbert x you #the tinas

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happy74827 · 6 months

Text

After Hours

[Billy x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You never fully believed the saying, “wrong place, wrong time…” until now {GIF credits: moviebuffs on tumblr}

WC: 4,392 (whoops)

Category: Hurt/Comfort {TW — Melinda, threats, mention of drugs + blood, lots of cursing}

I watched this two nights ago with my friend (love you @yoursacredqueenmother) and now here I am… obsessed. The ending was lame ngl but I highly recommend this movie if you like messed up situations (and Josh looking spicy 🥵).

『••✎••』

You hated driving at night. All the darkness outside and the light reflecting from the headlights, it all gave you a headache.

Your eyes darted over to the passenger's seat. It was empty and you were glad. The road was bad enough, you couldn't imagine trying to deal with someone else's conversation while driving.

The only sound was the soft rumble of the car, the whirring of the engine, and the sound of the tires rolling over the rough pavement. Your hands were tense on the steering wheel as you squinted in an attempt to see a few feet ahead of you. There were no lights out here, no street lights or traffic lights, and you were starting to think there wouldn't be any towns, either.

It would be the last straw if you ran out of gas out here.

You didn't even know where you were going, you were just following the GPS's directions and praying it would get you out of this desert and somewhere safe.

You sighed and shifted in your seat, tapping the steering wheel anxiously. You hadn't seen any other cars for a few hours now, which wasn't unusual, but it was still a little nerve-wracking to be driving out in the middle of nowhere.

But of course, as all nightmares go, suddenly, your car made a strange noise and started slowing down.

"Shit!" you hissed, smacking the steering wheel. "Shit shit shit!"

The car sputtered and then finally came to a complete stop, the engine dying. You slammed your hands against the wheel, feeling tears of anger and frustration welling up in your eyes. You were completely and utterly screwed.

You sat in the car for a while, letting the silence and darkness envelop you. The heat had faded quickly as soon as the sun had set, leaving behind an eerie chill that seeped through your clothes and into your skin.

You took a deep breath and looked around, but you could barely make out the landscape around you. It was pitch black and you knew if you tried to leave the car you would lose it immediately and end up getting hopelessly lost. You weren't sure what to do.

You looked over at the empty passenger seat, now wishing more than anything that you had someone with you.

You sighed and laid your head back, trying not to think about how scared and alone you felt.

As you sat there, staring up at the roof of the car, you decided you needed a plan. You couldn't just sit here forever, and if you were going to get anywhere, you were going to need help.

You grabbed your phone from the cup holder and held down the power button, watching as the screen lit up. You had service, thankfully, and a decent amount of battery left. You unlocked the screen and opened the maps app, waiting as it searched for your location.

You watched anxiously as the small circle spun, feeling a pit of dread growing in your stomach as the minutes ticked by.

After what felt like an eternity, the screen finally lit up. You sighed and put a hand on your chest, feeling relieved.

Zoomed out on the map, you looked for the nearest town. You didn’t find one, but you found a gas station… they were sure to have a jumper cable, right?

You plugged the coordinates into the GPS and started the car again, hoping that it would start.

It didn’t, of course. The whole point of getting stranded was that your car wouldn't start. So, you had no choice but to walk.

You grabbed a bag from the back seat and threw a few necessities inside, along with your wallet, your phone, your charger, and a small pepper spray bottle that your best friend had insisted you carry.

You were glad she'd been so insistent, you'd never have thought you'd need it.

You slung the bag over your shoulder and opened the door, stepping out into the chilly air. You shivered and closed the door, locking it, and then turned away from the car, setting off into the dark.

The moon was hidden behind thick clouds and the wind whipped around you, kicking up sand and rocks that stung your face and hands. You shivered and wrapped your arms around yourself, pulling your coat tighter around your body.

You wished you'd had the foresight to bring a thicker jacket or something, but you hadn't planned on getting stranded.

The walk was slow, the uneven ground and lack of light making the journey difficult. You could hear the wind howling around you, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched.

You kept walking, trying not to think about what could be lurking in the shadows, watching your every move.

Finally, after about twenty minutes, you spotted a light in the distance. You picked up your pace, your heart racing. As you got closer, you could see it was the gas station, just like you'd hoped.

You jogged up to the doors, pushing them to open but finding them locked.

You groaned and knocked on the glass, looking inside. There were no lights on, and you couldn't see anyone.

"Hey!" you yelled, pounding on the door. "I need help!"

There was no answer, and you were starting to think no one was inside.

You sighed and sat down on the concrete, putting your face in your hands. You had no idea what you were going to do now. The stupid location said it was open twenty four hours a day, so where was the damn staff?

You were about to get up and try the door again when you were startled by the light above the doors flickered on. You looked up and saw a woman standing behind you, her dark hair flat and dull. Her clothes were a mess, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

She looked exhausted, and when she spoke, her voice was strained but polite.

"Can I help you?"

Your eyes widened, and you scrambled to your feet, trying not to look panicked. But when you noticed the name tag pinned to her shirt that read ‘Melinda,’ your fear melted away and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh thank god, I thought no one was here," you laughed.

She didn't laugh with you, her face remained emotionless.

"Sorry, I was in the back," she explained. "What can I do for you?"

"My car broke down… honestly, I don’t remember where. It was really dark, and I don’t know this area." You shook your head and continued, "I was hoping I could buy a jumper cable or something? Just enough to get me out of here."

She nodded slowly, her expression never changing.

"Yes, they should be near the back with the other supplies." She paused, eyeing you warily. "I would offer coffee along with it, but… we're out of stock at the moment."

"That's fine," you said. "Just the cable will do."

She nodded again and stepped past you, pulling out a key and unlocking the door. She stepped inside and motioned for you to follow her. You did, and the moment you entered, a rush of cold air hit you, making you shiver.

She walked to the counter, her footsteps echoing on the tiled floor. She stopped at the register and began pressing buttons, her movements slow and methodical.

You couldn’t really care at the moment, as your eyes roamed the store, searching for the cables.

You walked down the first aisle, but didn’t see them. You kept walking, and when you came to the second aisle, you spotted them. You were about to grab them, but then you noticed the hall with the bathroom sign hanging from it.

Suddenly, the bottle of water that seemed so important earlier became a major regret. You hadn't gone to the bathroom since before your car broke down, and it was starting to catch up with you.

You took a step towards the bathroom, glancing back to the cashier. You could see her staring down at the counter, her fingers pressed to the keys, not really typing.

You didn't want to interrupt her, so you decided not to ask. You hurried into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You flipped the lock, and then turned to face the mirror.

You grimaced at the sight of yourself. Your hair was messy and your face was dirty. You splashed some water on your face, and then grabbed a paper towel and dried yourself off before doing everything you had to.

You left the bathroom, planning on returning to the aisle, but then you heard a noise.

A small sound, a whimper, like a puppy in pain.

You looked down the hall, trying to find the source. It sounded like it was coming from the storage room.

"Uh, hello?" you called, taking a hesitant step towards the door. "Are you alright?"

There was no response, just another small, pitiful cry.

You bit your lip and pushed the door open, stepping into the darkness.

"Hello?" you said again. "Is someone there?"

The door creaked behind you, and then closed. You spun around, panic rising in your throat. You reached for the handle, but before you could grab it, something moved in the darkness.

You jumped back, a gasp escaping your lips.

Something moved in front of you. You couldn't tell what it was, or where it was, but you knew it was there.

You took a step back, trying to stay calm. Your heart was racing and your palms were sweaty.

"Please, I just need help with my car," you pleaded.

A low, guttural growl came from the shadows. It sounded like a wild animal, and when it moved again, it was close enough that you could see the outline of its form.

It was… not tall. Not in the slightest. In fact, it probably was only taller than you by an inch, if at all. It was hunched over, its shoulders curved inward, its spine protruding slightly.

It took you a long minute to realize that it was just a guy in a chair. Man, you were blind.

He had on a denim jacket, and it hung off his small frame, the sleeves rolled up. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and he was trembling slightly. That’s when you noticed the bundles of red tape around his eyes, mouth, arms, and legs. He also seemed to be bounded to the chair, strapped down and unable to move.

“Oh my god,” you breathed. You stepped towards him, reaching out a hand, but he jumped out at you, attempting to attack. Though, it was pretty much useless on his end. He couldn’t move more than a couple inches in any direction.

He started to speak afterwards, but the tape had prevented it from being coherent, and all you could make out was a low, angry rumble.

"No! No, no, no!" You stepped back, putting your hands up. It was rather pointless and stupid of you too, because the tape had also covered his eyes, you just looked like an idiot. But, still, you kept them up. "I'm not going to hurt you, I just need some help with my car!"

He growled at you, a low, threatening sound, but then he stopped, seeming to realize that you were telling the truth. He was breathing hard, and his chest was heaving, and then he mumbled something under the tape.

"What?" You asked.

He mumbled again, but you couldn't understand him. It was like talking to a brick wall.

You hesitated, but then moved forward, reaching up to take the tape off. If you had to guess that was probably what he was mumbling about.

He flinched when you touched him, but then relaxed. You peeled the tape away from his face, both the strands across his mouth and the one over his eyes, and dropped it to the floor.

He was breathing heavily, and when you looked up at him, you were surprised by how young he looked. His face was pale and his lips were dry. His hair was greasy and tangled, and the side of his head was badly burned and bruised. There was even dried blood on his temple.

“Jesus, what happened to you?"

He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"Get me the fuck out of here, and I'll tell you," he hissed.

His voice was surprisingly smooth, despite how rough he looked. His words were short and sharp, like he was angry.

You weren't sure what to do, but then he started moving.

"Please," he said, his voice sounding desperate. "I promise, I won't hurt you. Just, please. Please get me out of this fucking chair."

"Did that… lady put you in here?”

"Yes, Melinda," he spat. "She's a nutcase psycho. Drugged me and… and… whatever the fuck. Just get me out of here!"

He sounded more frantic now, and his eyes were wide and pleading.

"Well, I-” You started to say, but he cut you off.

"Well what? What’re you waiting for?!”

“I- I need a jumper cable. My car broke down outside… somewhere. I'm not from around here, and- I don't know where I am. I can't exactly go anywhere until my car's fixed."

He looked at you with the most exasperated look you'd ever seen. It was almost comical, how exaggerated the expression was, but then he seemed to relax.

"Alright, how about this…” he said, his voice low and soothing. "You let me out of this shitty chair, and I'll help you fix your car. How's that sound?"

You didn't know what to say. He didn't seem like he was lying, and he seemed to be genuine about his fear. But could you really trust him? You still had no idea who he was or where he came from.

He seemed to sense your hesitation, and his expression softened.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "But I can't really help you unless I can get out of this stupid chair. And if we stay here, Melinda's going to find us, and trust me, you do not want to deal with her."

"And if she finds us, what will she do?"

"Look at Sheila over there wrapped up like a fucking Christmas tree," he replied, jerking his head towards the woman's corpse.

You gasped, covering your mouth.

"Oh my god, I didn’t even notice," you mumbled.

"Yeah, well, she's been dead for about an hour now, so," he said.

"And- and you've been sitting here, tied up the whole time?!"

"Yeah, it's fucking awful," he grumbled. "Now, will you help me, or not?"

"Oh, uh, yeah." You looked down at the remaining tape, trying to decide how best to go about it.

"Just, hurry up," he urged.

"Ok, ok." You reached for the tape, and he leaned forward, letting you pull and tug on the strips.

After a minute, you had all the tape off that was pinning him down and he was able to stand up. Again, he wasn’t that tall, maybe a five to six inches above five feet, but that didn't stop him from moving fast. He darted around the room, looking around frantically, and then grabbed a crowbar from a nearby shelf.

"Where did you even-"

"Not the time," he interrupted.

He turned towards you, his expression hard. He was pretty intimidating, and it wasn’t just because of the crowbar. He was skinny, but muscular, and the way he moved was fluid and agile, like a predator.

Though, you couldn’t help but noticed how attractive he was, with his expressive eyes and the way his hair was pushed back from his face. He was gorgeous.

"Hey," he snapped. "You listening?"

You blinked, and nodded.

"Sorry," you said, shaking your head. "This has just been a very, very strange night."

"Tell me about it," he grumbled. "That’s why when I’m done with her, we are getting the fuck out of here."

"Done with her?"

"Well, yeah, obviously. We're not just gonna let her get away with this shit."

"Um, are you sure that's a good idea? She's, like, a million times your size," You smiled at the small joke, but he didn’t seem amused at all, so you added, "Not to mention, hurting people seems like a bit of an extreme response."

"Hurting people is kinda her thing," he muttered.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off.

"Look, are you coming with me, or not? Because, if not, then just leave. You're already making this way more complicated than it needs to be."

"I can’t leave, not until my car's fixed," you protested. "That's why I'm here in the first place.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated.

"Ok, fine, fine," he relented. "Whatever. You can come with me, but just don't slow me down, alright?"

"Right," you said, nodding.

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue. He just started walking, motioning for you to follow. You did, and soon the two of you were standing outside the storage room, the door open and the hallway beyond shrouded in darkness.

"Alright, the plan is, I'm going to distract her and make her pay," he whispered. "While I'm doing that, you're going to grab the keys to her car or whatever and get it started. We'll meet up outside and drive off, and that'll be the end of it."

"You're… very confident for someone who was tied up to a chair five minutes ago," you had another attempt at lightening the mood, but he just gave you a pointed look.

Again, he didn’t seem amused. "Yeah, well, she's a bitch, and I don't appreciate being treated like a goddamn lab rat."

He has an odd way of speaking, you noticed. His words were short and clipped, and he never used more than he needed. It was a little intimidating, but mostly it was just kind of interesting.

"How’d do you even end up like that, anyway?"

He gave you another one of his annoyed looks. It was weird how much he could convey with just his eyes, but the look was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

"Don’t ask stupid questions,"

"Well, it seems like a reasonable question, considering the circumstances," you retorted.

He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Look, do you want my help or not?"

"Um, yeah. Yeah, of course,"

"Then stop asking stupid questions and focus on the task at hand. You get the car, I'll take care of Melinda. Simple."

You didn't know what to say, so you just nodded. He seemed pleased with your response and began to lead the way down the hall, moving quietly and staying close to the walls.

You followed him, keeping your footsteps light. As you went, you thought about the situation.

Melinda, in the five minutes of knowing her, never struck you as the violent type. A little socially weird, yes, but not violent. It seemed out of character, and you wondered if she had a reason for acting the way she did. Or maybe she was just crazy, like the guy had said.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you saw him hold up a hand. You stopped, and he pointed to the corner. You looked, and saw Melinda's form moving past the entrance to the hall, a flashlight in her hand.

The man motioned for you to stay put and moved silently towards the entrance. You watched him, unable to do anything else.

When he reached the opening, he paused. He was still, and for a moment, you thought he had lost his nerve.

He didn't hesitate for long. In one quick motion, he darted out of the hall, his crowbar held high.

Melinda jumped back, the light from her flashlight swinging wildly as she tried to regain her footing. She swung her flashlight at him, and the metal bar made a dull clang when it collided with her temporary weapon.

He stumbled, but managed to stay on his feet. He lunged at her again, but this time she was ready. He had stopped fast when she pulled out a gun, pointing it at his head.

I guess he was telling the truth.

“Just stop, okay? You can leave now, I'll let you go. Just don't-"

"Give me one good reason why I should listen to a word you say," the man interrupted, his tone low and menacing.

She stammered, trying to think of an answer. She didn't get the chance, though. Her eyes had caught sight of you, and she had noticed that you weren't where she had left you.

"Oh, oh god," she whispered, her voice filled with horror. "No, no, no. No, you weren't supposed to-"

The man swung the crowbar, and the gun flew out of her hand, skidding across the floor.

He moved in quickly, swinging his arm again. She dodged, and the metal bar hit the wall, creating a large dent in the plaster.

Melinda backed away, her hands raised, her eyes wide.

"I'm sorry, okay?" she cried, backing away from him. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry?! You… you drugged me and tried to…” He paused, stopping momentarily before pointing the crowbar at her face. “The point is, sorry isn't going to cut it, you bitch."

He swung at her again, and again, she dodged.

She was fast, and he wasn't, and soon, he had lost his balance. She shoved him hard, sending him flying backwards.

He landed hard on the ground, the wind knocked out of him. He didn't move, and Melinda stood over him, panting and wild eyed. The gun found her hands again, and she pointed it at his head, her hand trembling.

You had to do something. You couldn't just stand by and watch him die.

You did the only thing you could think of.

You went into your bag and took out the very same pepper spray that you had been carrying since the start of this nightmare, and fired.

The stream hit her right in the eyes, and she screamed, dropping the gun. It hit the floor with a loud thunk, and you dove for it, picking it up and pointing it at her.

"Don't move," you yelled, your voice shaking. "I'm warning you. I'm not afraid to use this."

Actually, that was a lie. You were absolutely terrified, and your hands were trembling so badly that you were barely able to keep a grip on the gun.

But you couldn't back down now. Not after everything you had been through.

She had stopped screaming, but was still clutching her eyes, tears streaming down her face. She was moaning and stumbling around, trying to find her way back to the wall.

She finally found it, and leaned against it, her eyes closed.

"Please, please don't hurt me," she sobbed. "I didn't want to do it. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. Please don't hurt me."

You glanced at the man. He was staring up at you, his expression unreadable.

"I should take that gun and shoot you right now," he said. "After what you did, I should kill you."

"Please," she whimpered.

He stared at her, and for a moment, you didn't know what he would do. Then, he got to his feet, picking up his crowbar as he did so.

Before she can even react he took a swing, hitting her right in the stomach. She gasped and fell to the floor, curling up into a ball.

He took another swing, this time aiming for her face.

You stepped forward, about to tell him to stop, but the blow didn't land.

Instead, he stood there, the crowbar held high. Melinda was looking up at him, her face red and streaked with tears.

"I just needed money," he spoke, his voice low and harsh. "That's it. Money. No one was supposed to get hurt, just a simple robbery with no one getting hurt."

She said nothing, just stared at him.

You, on the other hand, were frozen in shock. Robbery? He was robbing the damn station?

He sighed and lowered the crowbar, shaking his head.

"It's not like I wanted to do this, okay? I needed the money, and it was just an easy target. But you couldn't just let me get away, could you? You just had to make it difficult. Now look at the mess we're in."

"You were robbing?” Your voice was small, barely above a whisper, but it still cut through the tension like a knife.

He didn't turn, but his shoulders sagged slightly.

"Look, it's not what you think, okay?" He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I was in trouble, probably still am, and I needed money. Lots of it. That's why I picked this place, because it was an easy target. I wasn't planning on anyone getting hurt, I was just going to rob the place and get out. I wasn't expecting this crazy lady to come along."

He gestured to Melinda, who was still curled up on the ground.

"I was just trying to rob the place," he repeated. "It was nothing personal. And look, you helped me, so I guess I owe you one, or whatever. So, let's just call it even, and we can go our separate ways. Deal?"

“Even Melinda?” You asked, your voice shaking.

He paused, and his eyes flicked over to the woman on the ground, a slight grimace crossing his face.

"Of course not. She was a psychopath who tied me up and threatened me, and I'm not about to just let her walk away after all the shit she's pulled."

Melinda looked up at him, her face contorted with fear. He didn’t seem to care though, but what he did was tell you to leave, and that he'll take care of things.

So, you did, but not before grabbing your bag, and not before snagged out those car keys of hers. The odd thing you did notice though, while leaving the store, was how the entire floor seemed wet. It wasn't until about an hour of just simply waiting in the dark that you figured why.

And you realized as you saw the sudden rise of flames, the smoke billowing from the open door, that you indeed did not have that help from that mystery man after all.

Your car will remain broken.

So, I wrote this long piece of work because I went searching and found ABSOLUTELY NOTHING (which honestly it’s a crime given how fine he was in this movie — at least people realized it with Mike lmfao) so I wrote what I wanted to read.

I hope that this becomes a Rhys Montrose type of situation (For those who don’t know what I mean, this character Rhys from Season 4 of the show, You, had no fanfics on here and I basically jumpstarted it by writing like 4 of them lol) because I feel this character and movie deserves more hype and attention. Just look up edits of Billy from the movie and you’ll see what I mean.

Anyways if you’re actually still reading, thank you for coming to my ted talk. Hopefully you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it 🫶✨

(Also, if you see any more fics of this man… pls tag me. I’m desperate lmfao)

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ham-st4r · 1 year

Text

𝑼𝒏𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔 - 𝑳. 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈

❦PAIRING: heeseung + female reader!❦

❦WARNINGS: mentions of intimacy, angst, taboo relationship, small age gap, child abuse, cheating, (not reader) mentions of illegal racing & weed smoking, kissing, alcohol, selling drugs, divorce, violence, blood, injuries, cursing, crying (not as intense as it sounds but I did want to make sure I added all the warnings)

❦GENRE: step-mom reader, stepson heeseung, dysfunctional family, slow burn.

❦SUMMARY: in which you move in with your husband after your wedding, everything is perfect except for one thing, no matter what, you can't seem to get close to his son. Even after a year of knowing each other, you hadn't even spoken ten words until his 21st birthday rolled around, and funny enough he was the surprising you.

❦NUMBER OF WORDS: 14,364k

Find your way around!

Hello, this is my longest fic so far, so I hope it's okay. Please leave feedback and reblog! thanks so much, happy reading.

It had already been two months since you moved in with your husband, and things couldn't have been better. He gave you a key to the house and even bought a car for you as a welcoming gift which you thought was over the top, but he assured you that it was more than okay and that you deserved it, which made you fall for him even more if that was possible.

In the beginning, your parents weren't too fond of you marrying an older man when you were still in your late 20's it took a while to convince them, but he really made you happy, and when you introduced him to your parents over dinner, and they saw how radiant you were when you were with him they gave you their blessing, and you couldn't have been happier.

There was just one tiny little problem.

More like a big problem.

No matter what you did, his son heeseung wouldn't even spare you a glance, not when you first met, not at the wedding, and not since the day you moved in, absolutely nothing.

You knew it was probably hard for him to go through all this, especially as a twenty-year-old getting used to having a mom or (stepmom) all over again, but you've been in his life for about a year now, and he still hasn't warmed up to you yet.

"I don't think he likes me," you sighed as you cuddled up next to your husband on the couch in the living room.

He wrapped his arms around you to comfort you. "Don't worry, honey. I'm sure he'll come around soon. He's just adjusting to the new house and everything," he reassures you.

"I hope so." You said with a sad smile.

That conversation happened last month, and he still hasn't made any effort to communicate with you.

You've tried various things to get his attention, like taking him shopping or making his favorite foods. Nothing worked, but his twenty-first birthday was right around the corner, and you were going to try to use the special day as a way to get closer and bond with him.

You noted that he enjoyed listening to music like a lot, so you had bought him the airpod max hoping he enjoyed them.

You could only hope he didn't think you were trying to buy his affection cause you really weren't. You just wanted to get to know your son.

And speaking of your son, he didn't tell you where he was off to when he left earlier this morning, and when you asked him, he just slammed the door in your face without saying goodbye, which wasn’t surprising to you anymore.

You initially called your husband, but he didn't pick up the phone, which also wasn’t surprising anymore. You figured he was just working overtime like he often does.

But luckily for you, he had given you heeseung's phone number in case of emergencies, and to you, this was an emergency he left in the morning, and it was now midnight with no word from him, so naturally, you were worried about him.

Thankfully your worried heart was put to ease when he answered on the first ring, and you breathed a sigh of relief. "What?" His tone was cold and harsh, just like it had always been, but right now, you didn't care. You were just happy he answered.

"Are you okay? Where are you? What time are you coming home?" You said in a worrisome tone.

You could hear him sigh on the other end. "I'll be back soon" you could barely hear him from all the loud noise in the background.

"Okay, I'll heat up dinner for you when you arrive. Drive saf-" your shoulders slumped down in defeat when he abruptly ended the call.

Another hour had passed, and you began to worry again, but the keys jingling outside the door made you jump to your feet excitedly. At least one of your boys was finally home.

"Hey!" You greeted. "I'll go get you something to eat. I'm sure you're starving" Heeseung didn't even pay you any attention. Instead, he took his shoes off at the door and made his way upstairs to his room.

You could only watch him with a frown on your face once he was out of sight. You could have sworn you smelled the scent of weed coming off him, and you furrowed your brows. You didn't know he smoked, which made you wonder if your husband knew you made a mental note to ask him when he came home from work later on.

Which was apparently not going to be tonight, it was already two in the morning, and you fought to keep your eyes open so you could greet him when he came back, but as the clock struck 2:02 am, you found yourself shuffling off to your shared bedroom drifting off to sleep just minutes later.

The next morning you woke up to an empty bed, and you assumed you had overslept and hubby was already at work. However, when you turned to face the clock, it was ten in the morning. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, double-checking the time, and your eyes were correct. Maybe he worked all night or had to take the early shift. You'd just have to call him and figure it out later.

You got up and stretched for a while before going to the bathroom to wash up a bit.

Once you finished and went downstairs, you were pleasantly surprised to see heeseung dining at the table. "Morning," you greeted him with your croaky morning voice and a gentle smile as you made yourself a cup of coffee.

He didn't say anything, but that was to be expected. He never talked to you during breakfast. Since you moved in, you never had dinner as a family. It has always just been you and your husband occasionally while heeseung stayed in his room doing god knows what or you and heeseung sitting in absolute silence.

Once your coffee was ready, you joined him and quietly sipped your hot beverage. "I was really worried about you last night," you confess. You didn't want him to get up and leave when you tried to talk to him, but you wanted to express that you cared, and if that made him upset, you were willing to take that chance.

He looked at you briefly and took a spoonful of his cereal.

You took that as a sign to continue. "You don't have to tell me anything, but please just be home sooner than midnight," you spoke softly, just barely above a whisper, so you wouldn't scare him away.

He only gave you a small nod, but that was enough for a smile to spread across your face since he had finally acknowledged your presence.

You and him continued to have breakfast in comfortable silence until the front door opened and startled you slightly. "I'm home~" your husband sang as he stepped inside and took off his shoes.

You got up from your chair and ran over to him excitedly, wrapping your arms around his back and giving him a peck on the lips. "I missed you," you pouted, and he poked your cheek with a smile on his face.

"I missed you more" you grabbed his warm hand and led him to the kitchen table.

"We were just having breakfast. Would you like me to cook you something?" Before he could respond, heeseung had stood up and washed his unfinished cereal down the drain, and took off to his room.

You looked at your husband with sad eyes and sat on one of the kitchen chairs. "Why the sad face honey?" he stroked your cheek with his thumb lightly, and you leaned into his warm touch. "Hey, look at me" he tilted your head up slightly, staring at your beautiful eyes. "You had breakfast together again. That's a win, right?"

You’ve been having breakfast with heeseung since you moved in, and nothing has changed. It didn’t help you get closer with him, but you tried to stay positive, and you supposed your husband was right.

"Right" you got up from your seat and kissed his cheek. "I'll make some pancakes. How does that sound?"

"That sounds lovely." He agreed and gave you that beautiful smile of his.

"I don't want to kill the mood," you mumbled as you cut into your fresh plate of pancakes. "But last night when heeseung came home, he reeked of weed" you bit your bottom lip nervously as you awaited his reaction.

He just chuckled in response. "Honey, he's been like that for years. Don't worry about it." He dismissed.

"Has he been coming home past midnight for years too?" You hadn't noticed this behavior until last night. Usually, you were in bed by ten, but since you stayed up late waiting for your husband to come home, you were up late enough to encounter this apparent habit of heeseungs.

He dropped his fork and grabbed your hand. "Yes, ever since the divorce," he sighed. "He's just been very troubled. I've tried to talk to him about it, but he shuts me out all the time."

You wonder how bad the divorce must’ve been for heeseung to act this way. Your husband always said it was the past and that he didn’t want to talk about it, and you respected those boundaries, but you were still curious.

"Maybe I should talk to him," you suggested. After all, maybe it was the lack of a mother in his life that made him act this way. Maybe you could be there for him in a way his father couldn't.

He let go of your hand and clenched his jaw. "I told you I've already tried."

"But maybe I could try a different approach" you were adamant about the idea cause if heeseung was struggling. Naturally, you wanted to help him.

"Fine," he threw up his hands. "You'll just be wasting your time" your brows creased in confusion at his response. He had never acted this way before when you and him talked about heeseung's behavior, but before you thought too deeply about it, you assumed he was just tired and let the conversation go for now.

He abruptly stood up from the table and went to the bedroom, leaving you alone with three plates of unfinished food.

Heeseung had just come downstairs, and he looked like he was going out. Judging by the clothes he had on, he glanced at you, and you tried to hide your hurt expression by giving him a weak smile.

He eyed the table noticing there was a plate in front of his chair where he usually sat, and it was untouched.

He checked the time, and he supposed he could spare a minute or two. He rejoined you at the table, devouring your pancakes like it was his last meal on earth.

You smiled slightly as you watched him eat in silence. "Aren't you going to eat?" He mumbles after taking a sip of water.

You nearly jumped in surprise when he spoke to you, but you quickly composed yourself. "Yes," you whispered and resumed eating your pancakes, and even though they were cold, you ate every last bite with a smile, cherishing this rare moment with him.

Once he finished, he took his dishes to the sink and washed them along with the bowl he had left from earlier.

“Bye, heeseung” you gave him a tiny wave from the kitchen that he didn’t bother to return.

He put his shoes on at the door, and without another word, he was gone.

But at least there was progress, or so you thought.

You're sure that someone would have probably thought you were crazy with just how many decorations you had bought for your son's birthday, but hey, it was your first time celebrating the special day with him, and well, you wanted it to be special.

Unfortunately, earlier in the morning, when you were getting ready to go shopping, your husband informed you he wouldn't be home which totally ruined your whole entire mood. It seemed like everything went against you when it came to getting together as an actual family. If heeseung wasn't abruptly walking out of the room every time his dad entered, then his dad would be leaving for work nothing seemed to be working out for you.

"Can't you just call in? just this one time?" You all but begged him to stay home for Heeseung's birthday.

"No, I can't," he said flatly as he put on his dress coat. "He'll be fine. I always miss his birthday, whether it’s a business trip or for work, and besides, he's got you now" he turned around and flashed you a quick smile.

"Yeah," you mutter sadly while he kisses your cheek and waves goodbye to you.

You sighed at the earlier memory, but you weren't going to let it get your spirits down, especially when heeseung’s room was now decorated from head to toe. You smiled to yourself at the finished product taking a picture and sending it to your husband since he couldn't be there.

Now all that was left to do was wait for the birthday boy.

Heeseung trudged up the stone path to his house, sighing loudly when he saw the empty parking lot, which was a sign that his dad wasn't home.

"Seven years in a row," he mumbled sadly as tears welled in his eyes. He's not sure why he even still cared if his dad celebrated his birthday with him or not.

You'd think after seven years of hating his dad, he'd be over it by now, but he wasn't.

He remembers all those years ago when his mother did her best to make him feel loved going as far as inviting all his friends over to celebrate his birthday, but no matter how many people showed up, nothing could replace the absence of his father, not even the outrageous amount of gifts he received could replace that relationship he so desperately wanted with his dad.

Heeseung doesn't even know when it all started. All he knew was one day, he was a small child enjoying picnics at the park every Sunday after church, and the next moment he was a young teen, and his mom had turned into an alcoholic once she found out her husband was cheating on her, and just like that, everything fell to pieces and the perfect family was ruined all because of his piece of shit father.

Unfortunately, since heeseung was so young back then, he didn't have a choice in who he wanted to take custody of him after the divorce, and sadly there was no chance of him living with his mom. She didn't have enough money and a stable home for him to even stay in, so naturally, he was stuck with his father for the time being.

But now that he's a full-grown adult, he could make his own decisions about where he wanted to live, but stupidly enough, he was waiting and hoping that his father would change and that he would somehow care about him the way he used to but after two years of hoping heeseung had given up and decided to take his life into his own hands.

Which was probably not the best choice, but he needed money to move sooner than later, and a nine-to-five just wasn't going to cut it, especially cause he was secretly helping his mom get by cause, of course, his mother’s well being was no concern of his fathers, So naturally heeseung had resorted to the quickest way to make loads of money by selling drugs, betting, and racing illegally. It wasn't safe, but it was a safe bet to get him where he needed to be, and that was out from under the roof of his heartless father.

Especially right now, he's never wanted to leave so bad the fact that his dad had the fucking audacity to remarry was baffling to heeseung. He had the perfect wife, and he fucked it up for some random woman that he'd never see again, and that angered heeseung to the point that he couldn't even fathom he couldn't believe that his precious mother was brought down and reduced to absolutely nothing at the hands of his own father the thought made him feel sick.

And now that his father was doing the same thing with you made him feel even more sick. He never saw you as his mother. That’s for sure no one could ever replace her, not in a million years, but he could tell you were a good girl, and you were trying, which he appreciated. Even though he didn't show it, and even so, you still did your best and put up with his attitude to bring the family together, and you just had this glow that could change the whole atmosphere from dull and uninteresting to happy and cheerful, something his father didn't deserve he doesn't deserve your kindness because even after he fucked up with his first wife he didn't learn from his mistakes cause he was still going out behind your back every single night.

Heeseung wanted to tell you so badly about his dad’s unholy doings, but he didn't know if that was his secret to tell, so he stayed quiet. But right now, he didn't really care about respecting his father's privacy anymore cause not only was he cheating on his own son's birthday, but he was also out cheating behind your back, just like the old days.

You didn't deserve such treatment in heeseung's eyes. You deserved a real man, someone who could appreciate you for all your efforts and hard work, someone who could be there for you instead of leaving you home alone for ten hours a day, someone who could love you the right way.

God.

Heeseung feels so terrible for even thinking about you like that, but fuck, it was impossible for him not to. You were the perfect wife. Quite literally, everything about you was ideal for him.

He could see himself in his father's position so easily coming home from work to be greeted by you with warm hugs and kisses and a hot meal waiting for him on the table.

Except with him, it would be so different. He would answer all your calls, he would never come home late without telling you first, he'd give you massages when you were tired, and he would appreciate you for every little thing that you do.

Cause that's what you deserved, not a pathetic excuse for a man like his father.

As he got closer and closer to the door typing in the security code, he hadn't realized it yet, but his tears had subsided, and maybe that's all it took was for his dad to miss his birthday one last time cause as he took his shoes off at the front door he didn't have that heavy feeling in his gut anymore if anything it felt like a weight had been lifted and he could finally let go.

This felt like the last time his dad had to prove himself, and when heeseung came home to an empty parking lot, he accepted the fact that his father would never care about him the same way again, and as much as that hurt him in the beginning, it also felt like a relief cause now he didn't have to hang onto any false hope how could he when his own father gave him absolutely nothing to hang onto.

He was finally free, and he accepted his fucked up reality for what it was, something he wished he would have done years ago.

But, at least he can say he tried cause he really fucking did, no matter how painful it had been.

The house was oddly quiet normally. You would have been running down the stairs to greet him, but you were nowhere in sight, which made him frown.

He'd never ever ever ever admit to you that he liked it when you greeted him, that he liked it when you cooked his favorite dishes and liked how you worried about him and his safety when he was out late.

Cause god knows he loves all those things about you. Sometimes he'd leave the house just to hear you say bye, and he knows that sounds pathetic, but it's true.

He hated that he couldn't reciprocate your cheerful attitude. He wanted to so bad, and he almost slipped up so many times, but he was afraid that once that happened, there would be no going back. He was already basically in love with you at this point, and if he had to engage with you every day in a friendly manner, he'd be a goner, so instead, he gave you the cold shoulder and acted harshly towards you and it hurt him to know that he was hurting you, but if he ever acted on his desires for you he knows he'd ruin the family just like his father did, and he never wanted to be like his father ever.

He quietly made his way to the kitchen keeping his noise to a minimum, assuming you must have been tired and had gone to sleep early.

He decided to eat one of the apples you had bought from the market the other day. You had been talking about how good they were, and he remembered the sad look on your face when his stupid ugly, nasty father rejected them, saying. "I OnLy eaT oRgaNic fRuiT."

Oh, how heeseung wished he could have stuffed all those apples down his dad's throat at that very moment.

As heeseung bit into the apple, a smile unknowingly spread across his face. You were right. They were delicious, or maybe it was just cause you bought them, who really knows, but he enjoyed every last bite of it before throwing the core into the trash barrel and jogging upstairs to wash up for bed, not knowing that he was about to nearly have a heart attack after he opened his door.

"Surprise!" You popped out from hiding behind his door and held a cake with two big candles reading twenty-one on it. "Happy birthday, heeseung!" You smiled brightly.

His eyes went as wide as saucers as they scanned all the decorations. There were white, green, and purple balloons decorating his ceiling, and on the cake was his favorite cartoon character, buzz light year.

He couldn't do it.

He couldn't treat you harshly anymore, not after something like this. How could he?

This was far more than anything he could ever ask for, and he couldn't help but tear up. How did you know he loved Toy Story? His dad didn't even know that, not that that's saying much, but still, he couldn't believe that someone actually paid enough attention to him to even notice.

His silence was making you nervous, but before you could start overthinking, he quickly blew out the candles and set the cake on his nightstand, pulling you into one of the tightest hugs you've ever felt.

"Thank you, y/n, thank you so much," he cried on your shoulder, and you were shocked. You were not expecting this type of reaction from him, but you thoroughly enjoyed it and quickly hugged him back.

"You're welcome, birthday boy" you ruffled his hair, and it was difficult for you not to cry as well. Your son was finally hugging you for the first time since you met.

You rubbed his back gently as his cries started to die down a bit, and he pulled away from the hug, looking at you with teary eyes. It took everything in him not to kiss you right now, and he's thankful that you broke eye contact with him first. Otherwise, he probably would have done something really stupid. "Come on, let's open your presents" you wiped the tears off his cheeks, and he smiled before closing his door and joining you on his bed. "Okay, first one," you handed him the box excitedly. It was a Ferrari Lego set wrapped in Toy Story themed paper.

He didn't want to ruin your beautiful wrapping, but he couldn't contain his excitement as he ripped the paper off, gasping when he saw what was in his hands. "You didn't have to. How did you know?" You giggled at his reaction and nudged his shoulder playfully.

"Mothers know these kinds of things" he froze when you said that, being reminded of what this actually was a mother and son celebrating a birthday. He realized he was painting a different picture of what was actually happening inside his head, a more romantic one, so he calmed down his excitement while silently reminding himself that you only thought of him as your stepson, nothing more, nothing less. "Besides, your whole room is full of legos" you pointed to his shelf with all his little figurines, and he smiled at that, happy that at least someone paid attention to him.

"Thank you!" you felt saddened that he still hadn't called you mom yet, but your husband was right. It's the small wins that count. Heeseung would come around soon enough, you thought, especially after tonight.

"Okay, next!" You handed him another big box, and you couldn't wait for his reaction to this one.

"What did you get me?" He asked with a teasing smile. Honestly, being like this in front of you was easy for him. He felt light whenever you were around. Everything was just so carefree and comfortable. That's one of the many things he loved about you. Even if you two never spoke properly before, this felt natural, and he knew it did for you, too. He knows all the effort you put in to get closer to him, so he knew this meant a lot to you too, and he was grateful cause that let him know you cared and you didn't just give up on him like his parents did no matter how many times he treated you rough you were always patient with him which made him wonder how his worthless dad was lucky enough to get a girl as perfect as you.

"Open it and see" your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but you were just so happy that he was finally opening up to you and letting you in. It made you feel so much joy that he trusted you to show you his real emotions. This moment meant the world to you, and you'd definitely never forget it.

"No way!" He stared at you in shock. "You're freaking crazy," he said, getting choked up as he examined the headphones.

You're not sure if he was crying cause of the present or the fact that he was finally celebrating this day with someone after so long, but it didn't matter to you as long as he was happy. "Do you like it?" You side-hug him and lean on his shoulder.

"Of course, y/n," he sniffles. "I love it" you leaned up, watching the smile that never left his face until he turned to look you dead in the eyes. "I love you" he used the opportunity to slip those words in just to let you know he knew you'd think of it in a mother-son way, but he didn't care as long as he got to tell you before he left.

Those words nearly brought tears to your eyes. That was even better than him calling you mom. You smiled brightly. You were so happy, and you couldn’t wait to tell your husband the news.

"I love you too" you quickly pecked his cheek as you stood up from his bed to grab the cake. "How about some cake?" He looked at you and nodded. "Come on," you said in a whisper and gestured downstairs.

"Can we eat it here?" He asks sheepishly, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was turning five and not twenty-one from his childish request, but who were you to say no to eating cake in bed?

He sat back on his bed and tucked his feet under him while the bed dipped down next to him from your weight. He swiped his finger along the cake, gathering some frosting and licking it off his finger. "Good?" You ask, laughing at the way he decided to eat it without a fork.

"Yeah," he mutters shyly as you do the same, tasting the sweet frosting and humming at its delicious taste nodding in agreement with him.

You both ate the chocolate cake until there was barely anything left, and he sat it back down on his nightstand before he joined you on the bed again.

"You don't know how much this means to me," he whispered and trailed off while playing with his fingers nervously.

He looked like he wanted to say more, so you waited patiently for him to continue like you always had.

"This was the best birthday ever," he breathed out and looked at you with an unreadable expression.

"I'm so happy to hear that" you smiled genuinely at him and gently patted his shoulder.

Before you could even register what was happening, he was leaning in and kissing you.

It was if time had stopped.

You were paralyzed when you felt his lips on yours. You couldn't react from your state of shock as your eyes widened. He continued kissing you, tilting his head slightly and brushing his lips over yours.

When he placed his hand on your knee, you finally were able to react to the situation, and you pushed him back roughly by his shoulders. "What the hell are you doing?" You wiped his saliva off your mouth and stood up, distancing yourself away from him as you caught your breath.

He immediately hung his head low, knowing that he had messed up big time. You could hear him sniffling lightly. "I'm sorry," he whispered as his voice cracked. "Y/n, I didn't mean to." He looked at you with tears now trickling down his face. "I-I don't know what came over me, I'm sorry" he got off his bed and reached for you, but you backed away from him further, and his heart ached when he saw the pure look of utter disgust on your face.

Your heart felt like it was about to leap out of your chest from how fast it was beating. You had no idea what to even think. Your mind was blank as you rushed out of his bedroom and into yours, locking the door behind you just in case he tried to follow you.

You curled up in bed and let the silence take over, trying to make sense of what the hell just happened.

As you were lost in thought, you heard a few soft knocks on the door, and you jumped slightly. "Y/n, please don't be mad at me," he pleaded softly, and you could hear the hurt in his tone. "Please…” he whispered shakily, and you heard a soft thud on the door when he rested his forehead against it.

For the next three minutes or so, you could hear him quietly sobbing outside your door, and you were torn on what to do. Your stepson had just kissed you out of the clear blue.

You didn't know if you should talk to him about it or not. Maybe he had been smoking and just made a mistake, but you can’t remember smelling any smoke.

You ruffled your hair in frustration and did the first thing that came to your mind.

You tried phoning your husband. Maybe he could give you some answers.

You just sighed when you heard the dial tone.

Of course, he didn't answer like usual it annoyed you that he could never answer his phone because of work. You knew he was more than likely in a meeting, and he couldn't be disturbed, but every time you needed him, he was never there. You knew that’s what you were getting into when you married such a busy man, but that didn’t make it any less upsetting.

You tossed your phone to the side and sighed loudly. You could still hear heeseung’s faint sniffles from behind the door.

"I know there’s no excuse for what I did, but for what it's worth, you made this birthday the best one yet" he dragged his index finger down the length of the door. "G-goodnight, y/n" he walked back to his room and lied on his bed, feeling absolutely terrible about himself. Not only did he kiss you without permission, but he also kissed a married woman. "What was I thinking?" He mumbled quietly into his pillow.

He knew exactly what he was thinking, and he let his emotions get the best of him, but it was so hard to control it when you looked at him so fondly. How could he not get emotional when you had set up all those things just for his birthday? How could he not get emotional when you remembered the things that he liked?

It's been almost a decade since he felt those types of emotions, and he wasn't ready to feel those things again, especially not with you, especially when he couldn't control his feelings for you.

All those thoughts, feelings, and emotions came over him so fast that he didn’t have time to second guess his actions, but as soon as his lips were no longer on yours, he realized that he had made an irreversible mistake.

The last thing he saw before he cried himself to sleep was his leftover cake on the nightstand.

You woke up in the morning, and unfortunately, the first thought that came to mind was last night. You frustratedly massage at your temples, trying to rub out the headache while looking at the alarm clock that read 8:27am.

You turned to your husband and wrapped your arms around him, hoping to seek some comfort from him after what happened last night, but he rolled on his side after mumbling something about it being too hot as he scooted away from you.

That was another thing that has been troubling you lately. Maybe you were blowing things out of proportion from all the stress you had been carrying with you recently, but he seemed so standoffish lately he'd barely kiss you unless it was before he left to work, and god forbid you mentioned your worries about heeseung to him, he'd just blow you off, and tell you that heeseung was an adult that could do what he wanted.

But the worse part was you couldn't remember the last time he took you on a date or the last time he made love to you, and getting married only seemed to create distance between you both, and you hated it. You felt so alone being cooped up in the house all day. Sure, you'd go shopping sometimes, but that only took your mind off of things for a little while.

And heeseung never talked to you, so that made you feel even more alone, and after last night everything kind of just hit you like a ton of bricks. You felt more isolated than you ever have, and you had no one to talk to. You moved far from your parents, and the time zones were completely different. You hadn't contacted your friends in years, and now it was just you all alone by yourself to figure out what you should do after your stepson thought it would be okay to kiss you, and your husband was practically ignoring your needs as his wife.

This whole time you've been so worried about getting the mother approval stamp from heeseung that you barely even had time to focus on your life with your husband, and now that you realized that, it felt awful.

"What do I do?" You whisper as tears well in your eyes, sobbing quietly so you wouldn’t wake your sleeping husband.

For the whole day, heeseung didn't even think about leaving his room. He just couldn't face you after what he did last night.

Remembering the look on your face was enough to have him curled up in bed until midnight.

Once he saw all the lights were shut off, that's when he decided to leave. He made his way to the door, and he almost shirked when he saw you lying on the sofa all by yourself.

He tiptoed to the door, praying you wouldn't wake up, and to his luck, you didn't. He hastily put his shoes on and haphazardly wore his jacket and went to his secret racing spot.

You stirred in your sleep. Once you heard the door shut, you must have passed out while watching tv again. "Babe?" You called out, but you got no answer. You turned the tv off and went to your bedroom to see your husband fast asleep. "He didn't wake me up?" You mumbled you were once again waiting for him to come home from work, but you fell asleep, and he didn't even think to wake you up before going to bed.

Which reminds you, if he wasn't the one leaving, then that must have meant it was heeseung, and it was past midnight since your talk with him over breakfast. He seemed to understand your concern for him being out so late and made it a point to come home no later than ten.

So why was he leaving past midnight again?

You wanted to call him and tell him to bring his butt home, but after last night you're not sure where he stood with you or where you stood with him, to be honest.

Heeseung didn't want to leave past midnight and make you worry, but after what happened the night of his birthday, he figured you didn't care about him coming or going cause he made you mad, and he hated knowing that he ruined the little relationship you had both formed just as quickly as it happened.

But if he looked on the bright side, at least now, you probably hated him and wouldn't try to get close to him anymore, so that was a good thing. Maybe that would help him suppress his feelings for you, and besides, he'd be leaving soon anyway, so how you felt about him didn't really matter.

He was going to use the money he made from his nightly races and drug deals to move out. He now had more than enough to afford his own place and live alone comfortably.

Of course, his dad wanted him out a lot sooner and would be more than happy to buy heeseung his own house to get him out of his hair, but heeseung didn't want anything to do with his father once he was gone.

Everything that happened in this house he wanted to be a thing of the past, even if that included you.

Sure, it was a cop-out move to just avoid what happened that night, but in his mind, there wasn't a need to address that situation again. He fucked up, and that was the end of it.

That wasn't the only reason he wanted to move though his dad played the bigger role in that, and now after that incident with you, it was fuel for him to leave even sooner than he had originally planned.

He closed his eyes as a few tears rolled down his cheek, and the crowd roared his name as he revved his engine.

And as soon as the two black and white checkered flags were raised, he pressed his foot on the gas, going full speed ahead, pushing all his worries down just like his gas peddle, even though he knew they would all surface again and haunt him once he reached the finish line.

Of course, you couldn't get any sleep cause heeseung was still out, and it was now three in the morning, not to say you would have been able to get any sleep with your husband snoring loudly next to you anyways.

You quietly got out of bed and put your robe on. You walked downstairs and poured yourself a glass of wine, sitting on the sofa, waiting for heeseung to come home.

It wasn't long before the door was creaking open, and you heard the familiar jingle of heeseung’s keys.

He turned around and twisted the knob so he could shut the door silently.

You cleared your throat, and he nearly jumped out of his shoes as he slowly turned around with a grimace on his face. "Mind telling me what you've been up to?" You traced the rim of your now empty glass as you crossed your leg over the other.

"S-s-sorry, I won't do it a-again," he mumbled as he hung his head low and kicked his shoes off at the door.

"What exactly is it that you won’t be doing again?" You asked and slowly held the cup to your lips, taking a small sip of the alcoholic drink.

He gulped nervously from your stern tone. "Just hanging out late with some friends," he lied. He didn't have any friends, not since his parents divorced.

You hum and nod your head. "Do these friends happen to smoke?" You questioned.

How the hell did you know that? "Yes," there was no point in lying. He wouldn't want to make you more upset.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. "What did I tell you about being out past midnight?"

"I know, and I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I didn't think you'd care" he bit his lip nervously.

"Why wouldn't I care? You're my son," his expression hardened at your words.

"Please stop saying that," he whispered shakily.

"What's wrong? I know I'm not your biological mother, but I'm trying here" you pushed down the lump in your throat and ignored the ache in your heart as he said those words to you.

"You just don't get it, do you? That's just the thing, you're not my mom, and I'll never see you as my mom" he clenched his jaw in annoyance.

Now you couldn't even pretend that didn't hurt like hell that's all you ever wanted was for him to call you mom but the way those words fell from his mouth so carelessly broke your heart. "W-what did you say?" Your voice now matched him with a shakiness that made him instantly regret what he said.

He came closer to you, wrapping your frail body in his arms. The smell of smoke invaded your senses as you inhaled sharply. "No, no, no, that's not what I meant," he whispered as your shoulders shook in his hold. "You know what, screw it" he pulled back and stared into your eyes intensely. "I'll never see you as my mom because," he took a deep breath before continuing. "Because I like you" his bottom lip quivered, and you could feel his body shaking slightly. "I know it's wrong, and I swear I tried not to, b-but I just couldn't help it, and on my birthday, I just couldn't control how I felt. It's the first time someone has shown me any type of affection in years, and I-"

You cut him off. This was nonsense. He was speaking. There's no way that's how he truly felt. "You never even talked to me before then" you pulled away from the hug and waited for him to explain.

"I know," he whined out. "But that's why I didn't want to get close to you 'cause this whole time I've had…" he trailed off, but you got the point. "And on my birthday, you just" he looked down at his feet, embarrassed and ashamed to even be telling you this. "You made me feel special, and I haven't felt that in a long time." He whispered.

You looked at him with a million questions swirling around in your mind, but you asked the burning one. "What about your father? He's great to you. Surely he makes you feel special" you tried to make sense of what heeseung was saying, but you couldn't wrap your head around it, and getting angry wouldn’t help, so you spoke calmly while hoping to get some answers.

He just scoffed at your words and shoved his hands into his pockets. "He didn't even wish me a happy birthday." He poked his inner cheek with his tongue.

A look of shock overtook your features. Of course, you knew your husband wasn't going to be there on his son's special day, but not buying him a gift and not sending him a text was outrageous. "Maybe he was just too busy," you reasoned. There's no way he would not have sent his own son a happy birthday text unless he was busy.

"For the last seven years? I don't think anyone is that busy" he rolled his eyes. "It's obvious what's important to him, and I'm not."

"Don't talk about your father that way. He's a great man and a great husband, and you're just being ungrateful right now. He's working himself to death to take care of us both," heeseung just gave you a sad smile.

If you had any idea.

"If you say so," he wasn't going to argue with you about this. He was afraid he would slip up and spill his dad's secrets, and that would make everything so much worse than it already was.

"Just go to your room, and you're not going out tomorrow." You concluded that was all that needed to be discussed right now.

Without another word, he quietly went to his room and left you stressed out on the couch with so many unanswered questions.

"Honey will you call that deadbeat son of ours from his room," your husband joked as he sat at the table.

You just chuckled at his statement, knowing he meant no harm, and went to get heeseung from his room.

You knocked a few times and waited for him to answer. He cracked the door open just a sliver, and you saw his eyes widen slightly. "Yes?" He whispered.

You hated how he almost seemed scared of you after everything, but right now, there was nothing that you could think of to fix this situation between you and him, so you’d just have to be awkward around each other for the time being.

"Dinners ready, and your father wants you to sit with us," you informed him in a soft tone hoping that would help unnerve him, but it didn't seem to work.

"Ok," he said quietly and opened the door, fully exiting his room and coming downstairs with you.

"There he is! Finally decided to crawl out of that den of yours," heeseung sighed while sitting at the table. He knew this was going to be absolute torture. He was only doing it cause he knew you wanted to. "So your mother told me you've been smoking, is that true?"

You gasped in shock. This was not how you wanted him to bring this up. Tonight was just supposed to be a simple, peaceful dinner, nothing more, nothing less.

You shook your head and signaled for your husband to stop, and heeseung looked at you with a tinge of hurt on his face. Not believing the fact that you had told his secret.

Apparently, your husband didn't get the memo. "So are you going to answer, or do I have to beat it out of ya" his father joked, but neither you nor heeseung was laughing.

You smiled awkwardly and took a sip of your lemonade, staying quiet.

"What does it matter?" Heeseung responded harshly.

"To be honest, I don't care what you do, but your mother here is worried about you," he said while cutting into his steak.

"Babe," you scolded him for his choice of words. You knew he was just frustrated and didn't mean them, but you still acknowledged how inappropriate that was to say. "Sorry he's been drinking," you murmured to heeseung, but he knew even if his dad wasn't drinking, he would still say those hurtful words to him without thinking twice about it.

"There's nothing to worry about" heeseung dismissed the topic from going any further.

"See honey? I told you it's fine" you just sat there uncomfortably for the rest of the dinner. Maybe it was just you, but he didn't seem to care about his own son's reckless behavior, and it left an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. "What I am worried about, though, is when you're going to get a girlfriend. I mean, you're a grown man, and you haven't dated anyone." He chuckled.

Heeseung glanced at you feeling embarrassment course throughout his veins.

You were surprised to hear that. Heeseung was a good guy. From what you know, he was intelligent and interested In making music, plus he had handsome features, so you were bewildered at the new information.

"Isn't that something, dear? He's twenty-one and doesn't have a girlfriend."

"Well, that's his choice, babe. Maybe he just hasn't found the right one," you try to ease the tension of the conversation, hoping heeseung would loosen up a bit, but he didn't.

The conversation started out in the wrong direction, to begin with, but now it was completely lost.

"I suppose, but he hasn't even had sex yet" this was the first time you had ever heard your husband talk in such a manner, and it was revolting, to say the least, especially at the dinner table.

Has he always been like this? You wondered.

"Dad, we can have this conversation another time," heeseung gritted through his teeth. He knew his dad was trying to get under his skin, not to say he cared, but heeseung just didn't want you thinking differently of him for being a virgin. He didn't want to think he was any less of a man.

Of course, his dad wasn't going to listen to that, not when there was a perfectly good opportunity to humiliate his son. "Hell, he hasn't even had his first kiss yet," he chuckled, and heeseung's mouth parted as he stared at his dad in shock, unable to comprehend why he'd want to put him to shame like that in front of you.

Heeseung looked at you scanning your face for your reaction, and you could have sworn you saw tears in his eyes before he got up from the table and ran off to his room.

"Why would you say that?" You asked, knowing that you weren't the only one that could obviously see that heeseung was upset when he left.

"Say what? It's harmless fun. He'll get over it" he took a drink of his beer before shrugging his shoulders.

"That didn't look harmless to me, and it wasn't funny," you said sternly while throwing your napkin on the table.

You may not have been on good terms with heeseung, but he didn't deserve to have his love life aired out for your husband's drunken amusement.

You could only imagine how embarrassed heeseung felt.

You stood up from the table and headed to your room as well. You couldn’t believe he had to ruin the evening. "Honey, wait, I'm sorry," you heard him drunkenly apologizing, but you continued on to your room, too stressed and tired to put up with him or anything else right now.

After you finished washing up, you went to check on heeseung. As hard as it was going to be to speak to him, you just wanted to make sure he was okay after what happened.

You knocked on his door, hoping he hadn't already gone to sleep. You waited a few seconds after knocking, and you didn't get an answer.

Maybe he was listening to music, you thought and cracked the door slightly. He was lying in his bed listening to music, just like you had originally thought, and he was wearing the headphones you bought him for his birthday. You smiled at the heartwarming sight before opening the door further and revealing yourself.

His head shot up to the door when he noticed the light from the hallway shining into his dimly lit room. When he saw it was you, he quickly took off his headphones and straightened out his blankets, running his fingers through his hair, trying to tidy up a bit.

"Can I come in?" He just looked at you and nodded his head. You shut the door behind you and sat on his bed, pushing away the thoughts of the last time you were in his room on his bed. "Sorry about him," you apologized on your husband's behalf.

"It's not your fault" he scooted away from you and hugged his knees to his chest. "It wouldn't be the first time he's done that" the words accidentally slipped from his mouth, and he panicked.

"What do you mean?" You ask him, puzzled.

Heeseung was quick to come up with an excuse. You didn't know much about his relationship with his father. From the outside looking in, they seemed like they got along pretty well, and heeseung knew what he said just now would make you ask questions, and those questions he didn't want to answer cause ultimately they would reveal what his dad was doing to you this whole entire time.

"Uhh, you know, just the teasing and all" he smiled uncomfortably and hoped you'd buy that lame excuse, and it seemed like you did when you nodded your head in understanding.

"Just so you know, it's nothing to be ashamed of" you were going to reach your hand out and comfort him, but you decided it'd be best if you didn't.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said lowly, and you sighed in defeat as you sat up and walked out of his room. If he didn't want to talk about it, you weren't going to force him to. You assumed he needed space, and you were more than willing to give it to him.

You went back to your shared bedroom to find your husband already lying in bed waiting for you. "Honey, I'm sorry," he apologized again while you got into bed next to him. "I'll talk to him tomorrow. He's probably upset with me," he mumbled in the crook of your neck as he wrapped his arms around you.

You cuddle up closer to him, and he presses soft kisses all over your neck, tickling you. "Babe!" You shouted when he started tickling your sides playfully.

"What?" He answers back as if he's unaware of what he was doing to you.

You giggled and squirmed, trying to get out of his hold.

"I gotcha now," he teased and continued tickling you while laughing at the noises you were making.

Heeseung could hear you both talking and laughing. He hated how his room was right next to your guy’s, and he could hear literally everything.

He turned up his music to full blast, drowning out everything. The last thing he wanted was to hear you being intimate with his father.

His father didn't deserve to see your body, heeseung thought. You should have been in his bed making love to him. He was confident his father couldn't please you the way he could. Hell, it wouldn't even be a comparison.

If heeseung had a chance with you, he'd give you anything you wanted. He'd take his precious time with your delicate body, trace his fingers over every dip and curve of your beautiful figure whisper praises in your ear about how good you make him feel. He'd stare directly into your eyes and tell you how much he loves you and how precious you are to him as he slowly strokes inside you while you moan his name and clasp your hands tighter with his.

You should be in his room right now with him.

Little did heeseung know you were unfortunately not getting intimate with his father cause after the little tickling session, he passed out from all the alcohol he drank earlier in the evening, leaving you to fall asleep unsatisfied for the countless night in a row.

A few weeks had passed now, and things were starting to get better with your husband. He was taking you out more and spending more time with you, which was great, and it kept your mind clear.

Unfortunately, things were the same with heeseung, and even still, you had no clue what to do. You wanted to tell your husband, but you had no idea what kind of mess that would have caused, so you ignored it entirely, and heeseung went back to his old ways of giving you the cold shoulder, which you were happy about cause that made you feel better about not addressing the situation somehow you twisted it that if he wasn't talking to you you weren't going to talk to him and you convinced yourself this was his fault for shutting you out.

Besides, he hasn't made a move on you since, so there wasn't anything to talk about, right?

Right.

Finally, you got your much-needed break from everything that has happened this past month, and you couldn't have asked for anything better than to be where you are right now, hugged up to your husband on the couch, watching movies as he stroked your hair.

Your guy’s movie marathon was interrupted by heeseung making a surprise visit to the living room. He scoffed and made his way to the couch, handing his father his key to the house before retreating back to his room.

You eyed the little transaction, and you furrowed your brows, looking at the house key that sat on the entertainment stand in the living room.

"Babe, what was that about?" You wondered why heeseung was giving up his house key.

"Oh, he didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" You say, growing more confused by the second.

"He's moving out next week," he told you as if it was just something as small as a story from one of his co-workers or something.

You sat up abruptly. "What?! No, he didn't tell me" you knew things weren’t going great with you and heeseung right now, but you didn't expect him to keep something this important from you. "Why didn't you tell me?" Now that was the strange part he didn't know about yours and heeseung's falling out, so why would he assume heeseung would tell you when he didn't even speak to you?

"Cause it's not a big deal" he shrugged and tried to hug you, but you backed away.

"It is a big deal. You know how hard I've been trying to get close to him, and you didn't even think to tell me he would be moving?" You raised your voice slightly.

"What does it matter?"

You couldn't sit still any longer. You got up from the sofa and went to heeseung's room. Maybe he could give you a better explanation than the bullshit your husband just gave you. "Why didn't you tell me you’re leaving?" Your tone was still harsh, but it wasn't aimed toward heeseung.

"Didn't think you'd care" he disregarded the way you just stormed into his room without knocking.

"Why would you think that?" Your expression softened, as well as your tone.

"We haven't talked in weeks, so what's the point? For all practical purposes, I'm not even here," he angrily shoved his belongings into his suitcase.

You knew it was your fault why he felt like that, and it made you feel terrible. You could no longer deny the fact that your and Heeseung's relationship diminished because you were not handling what happened like an adult. "I'm sorry. It's all my fault."

Fuck fuck fuck.

He wanted to punch and kick himself for thinking you looked cute apologizing right now. That's not what this is about, heeseung focus. He took a deep breath and put on his hard exterior once again. "I forgive you," he said with no emotion at all.

He couldn’t understand why you’d take all the blame, though, cause he definitely had a part to play.

You watched him packing, and you still felt guilty for everything, even if he had forgiven you. "So that's just it then?" You asked sadly, you knew at this point having a mother-and-son relationship was out of the picture, but you’d still miss him when he was gone.

He sighed and zipped up his bag, opening a smaller one for his toiletries. "What do you want from me, hmm? I already told you this," he pointed back and forth between the two of you. "Is never going to happen. I can't give you what you want, and you can't give me what I want."

"Heeseung, I don't know what to say. I want to tell you I'm sorry, but I'm not. I'm a happily married woman, and you have to understand that," you tried to explain to him in a way he'd understand without hurting his feelings.

"Exactly, and I can accept that, so why can't you accept the fact that this picture-perfect family idea of yours is never going to work? I'm moving out, and now you can live the rest of your life happily with that-" he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from talking and saying something he shouldn't.

"Honey?" You heard your husband calling you from downstairs, and heeseung sighed. You wanted to finish listening to what he was saying, but you opted to leave his room and go to your husband.

"Fuck” heeseung said under his breath when you walked out.

He wanted to let you know what was happening, but he was scared. He didn't want to hurt your feelings, or worse, what if you didn't believe him?

He shook his head and finished packing. It wasn't his mess to sort out. He tried to convince himself.

Everyone glossed over what happened over the next week, and so did you heeseung was leaving today, and there wasn't anything you could do or say to stop him.

It was in the evening, and you were supposed to be going out to dinner with your husband, but he wasn't answering your calls. He said he'd be ready by six, yet it was eight, and he didn't even bother to call you to inform you what was taking him so long, and you started to get worried.

Tears unknowingly pricked your eyes and cascaded down your face. Everything had gotten to you, and you couldn't contain your emotions anymore and finally let out all your frustrations.

You sobbed into the palms of your hands while sitting at the kitchen table. Everything seemed to be going wrong the past month, and you had no idea how to fix it heeseung was basically done with you, and your husband didn't even seem to notice how stressed you were lately. You were hoping to talk to him over dinner, and now that fell through, so here you sat sobbing like an overgrown baby waiting for your beloved husband to come home.

To make matters even worse, when you looked up, you met eyes with heeseung, and he was just staring at you.

You must have missed him coming down the stairs while you were crying hysterically.

You quickly grabbed a napkin and dried your tears. Obviously, it was too late to hide them, but you still tried.

Heeseung dropped his moving boxes at the door and made his way over to the kitchen. He didn't hesitate for a moment to lean down and wrap his arms securely around your shaking shoulders. "Shhh, it’s okay" he kissed the crown of your head and rested his cheek there while fluttering his eyes shut.

You didn’t have it in you to tell him off for his overly affectionate gesture, so you let him comfort you instead.

You grabbed his hand and held it tightly. You didn't have to tell him why you were crying. He saw his mother in the same position you were in right now, all beautiful and dressed up, ready for the big date that never came.

"I'm going to tell you something that I know I shouldn't, but you deserve to know," he whispered and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. "My father is cheating on you" heeseung's heart rate increased as he finally spilled his father's filthy secret to you.

"What?!" You pushed his arms off you, and he stumbled back slightly while you stood up from your seat. "Why would you say that? He would never" you defend your husband. Little did you know he would, and he was at this very moment.

Heeseung hung his head low. "That's the same thing I thought when my mother told me," his voice cracked. "I know it's hard to accept it. I've been there before, but it's true."

"No," You felt more fresh tears welling in your eyes. "Take that back right now. How could you ever speak about him that way" this was absolutely preposterous, you thought.

"Because it's true, I wanted to tell you for so long, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings, okay?" He stepped closer to you, and you let him engulf you in a hug, but you didn't hug him back.

"How do you know?" You asked, nibbling on your lip. You wanted to fight back, but something about the look on heeseung's face made you feel like he was telling you the truth, and it made you feel sick.

"Call him and ask him where he is," he responds quietly. You broke away from the hug.

"No, I get it now. You're just trying to break us up 'cause you can't stand the fact that I don't want to be with you" that had to be it cause the man you married would never cheat on you, and you knew he loved you, too much to do that to you.

"What?!" Heeseung said, shocked that you would not only accuse him of lying but the fact that you would think that lowly of him. "I would never lie to you, y/n that's not the type of guy I am, and what would I gain from lying to you? I know you'd take his word over mine any day, and besides, I'm leaving today, so even if I was trying to turn you against my father, that'd be pretty stupid given the fact that once I walk out of that door in the next fifteen minutes, you'll probably never see me again."

That was true, but maybe heeseung didn't want you for himself. Maybe he just wanted to ruin your life cause you didn't accept his advances.

He could see the apprehension on your face, and he took the opportunity to further prove his point. "He said he would be home today at six, right?" You just nodded your head. "And he also said he was going to go to work, right?" You nodded once more, feeling a heavy weight settle in your gut. "So if I call his work right now, he should be there, right?" You knew where this was going, and you didn’t like it one bit. You were going to leave and go to your bedroom, but he quickly grabbed your wrist and stopped you from moving.

He let go of you and pulled out his phone, and dialed his dad's work number, putting it on speaker as the phone rang three times before someone picked up. "Hi, could you give me Mr lee's extension? I'm his son, and he's not answering his phone right, and I'm worried" you listen, as whoever was taking the phone call informed heeseung that Mr lee had not been at work today and that he was always off on Sunday. "Oh, okay, thank you. Bye," you stared at heeseung with tears in your eyes.

But you were still in denial. "He's probably just off doing some work elsewhere," you smiled and convinced yourself.

Heeseung couldn't believe how much you were defending his father, but he understood he was the same way when he found out from his mother, but he was going to prove to you that it was true one way or the other. "Y/n, I need you to listen closely to me. I'm doing this for you, okay? I love you, and I don't ever want to see you hurt. I don't want to sit back and watch the next most important woman in my life get reduced to nothing at the hands of my father, not again" it was hard for him to contain his emotions. Talking about this topic was something he thought he had gotten over, but it felt like the wound had never healed, even though he thought it did years ago.

You stood in silence, wrapping your arms around yourself, preparing for what he was about to say. If you were being honest, you had your doubts about your husband a few times, like when he smelled like women's perfume, and he told you he worked around females, so that's why he smelled that way at the time that sounded true, so you went along with it the other time you saw a red stain on his shirt that looked a lot like lipstick, but you thought you were reaching and didn't bring it up to him but now as heeseung was giving you all this information you weren't so sure so instead of telling heeseung off for saying such foul things about his own father you stayed and listened cause deep down you were afraid you had been right all along.

"Remember all the times I always left the table when he came home? It's cause we don't get along. He made it seem that way, so you wouldn't think any less of him, but he knows deep down I hate his guts, and he hates mine. You remember all the times he came home from work late? He was out at the club. Remember all the times he didn't answer his phone or come till the next day? He was off with somebody else while you were waiting at home for him like a good wife" before you could shut him down, he pulled up a picture of your husbands' car in the parking lot of a club, and that's when it felt like your world had come crashing down you had a feeling but you being you just thought you were overthinking all the time, and you stupidly gave your husband the benefit of the doubt when evidently he didn't deserve it.

You were sad, hurt, and upset. "Why would you do that?" You said to heeseung while crying. He just looked at you, mirroring your hurt expression cause this was just as hard for him to relive all over again as it was for you finding out. "You're lying!" You screamed at the top of your lungs. "You're lying!" You pushed his him. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" you hit his chest, punctuating your hurtful words each time your hand came in contact with his body. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he let you weakly pound his chest. Eventually, he grabbed your wrist and stopped you pulling you into a hug instead. "You're lying," you choked out through sobs as you let him engulf you in a hug. This time, you hugged him back in your weak and vulnerable state.

You couldn't believe everything was a lie right from the beginning. You don't blame heeseung for not telling you sooner. You blame yourself for being so stupid and naive to believe such ridiculous lies. You hated yourself for having blind faith in your husband, and you hated your heart for loving him so foolishly that even when things seemed different, you just brushed it off.

Heeseung rubbed your back soothingly to comfort you. "Remember all the times I came down for dinner when he was gone? I did it so you wouldn't feel alone. Remember all those times I came back early? I did it so you wouldn't have to worry about me anymore. Remember all those times when I was here for you, and he wasn't?" You could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest while he poured his feelings out to you. "If I was in his place, I'd never come home late. If I was in his place, I'd never look at another girl, and if I was in his place, I'd treat you right" he held onto you tighter, giving his words more significance.

He leaned back to look you in the eyes, trailing his hands over your hip bones. "If I was in his place, I'd never make you cry" he scanned your face, and his heart broke for you. You looked lifeless and completely broken as he wiped away your stray tears. It was like he was looking in a mirror at his fourteen-year-old self when his mother told him the same news, except when he found out he had no one to confide in cause his mom practically abandoned him for alcohol and left him in the hands of his abusive father, but he wasn’t going to let you go through the same thing that he did he was going to be that person that was there for you when no one else was he was going to be that person his mother couldn't be for him.

Heeseung thought it was now or never and closed the gap between you two before he could think twice. Besides, no matter the outcome of his actions, he'd be gone tomorrow, but he was here today, he was in this moment, and he was going to make every second of it count.

You responded to the kiss, and in your weakened state, all you wanted was his comfort. It was something you needed more than anything in the world, especially right now.

It felt so right.

No matter how hard you tried to be his mother, you never quite made the cut, and deep down, you knew it was because you never really saw him as your son. You were just too wrapped up in trying to be the perfect wife for your husband that you lost sight of everything, and right now, after everything heeseung had told you, kissing him didn't feel wrong cause you didn't feel like you were kissing your stepson no, you felt like you were kissing a man that loved you and a man that actually cared for you and your well being.

He hummed into the kiss pulling you closer by your waist as he kissed you passionately, slowly, lovingly this was the first time you had ever felt this way from a kiss. You never felt the butterflies in your stomach that you were feeling right now when you kissed anyone else. With heeseung, you could actually feel the love he had for you.

He leaned back and fluttered his eyes open, slowly placing one last loving peck on your lips.

He's been waiting for the moment for far too long. It was definitely worth the wait. He'd live his hellish life all over again just for it to lead to this very moment with just you and him and no other distractions in between.

Your lips were just as soft as he imagined, your kiss was just as electrifying as he daydreamed, and your embrace was everything he ever prayed for. "Come with me," he says out of nowhere. "Get a divorce and leave him live with me. I promise I can take care of you, trust me" he rested his forehead against yours. Everything was happening so fast, and you could barely breathe, but one thing you knew for sure was right now, heeseung had told you the truth you had been searching for, and his embrace made you feel safe. He proved you could trust him, but you don't know if you were ready to move on so quickly you didn't want your emotions getting in the way of making such a big decision, and heeseung seemed to have read your mind.

"We can take this as slow as you want" he gripped your shoulders, leaning down a bit to hold eye contact with you. "Look at me, okay? All I'm asking is for you to come with me, if, a month down the road, you decide you don't want to try with me. I’ll completely understand, but right now, I just can't stand to see you hurt. I can't let that happen to someone I love not again," he meant every word wholeheartedly. He couldn't be there for his mother, but he could be there for you.

You nibbled on your lip in thought you had no money outside of your husband's income, and you couldn't afford to move right now. "Heeseung, I can't." You whisper.

"Why?" He breathed out and placed his hands on your cheeks. “Hmm?”

"I can't afford to move, and I can't go back to my parent's house," you told him your concerns for the first time in months. You felt comfortable speaking your mind out in the open.

"You know how I always go out at night?" You nodded your head as he stroked your cheek softly with his thumb. "I hate for you to find out like this, but I was doing illegal things to make money, and let's just say I could buy you a house twice this size. We could fly to your parent's house and be there in the morning. Whatever you want, I can give to you." He looked at you intensely to prove to you that he was dead serious.

You could feel a headache coming on. This was all too much for you to handle alone, but Heeseung wasn't going to let you handle this alone, not this time. "I couldn't ask that of you."

"I want to give you a life that you deserve, let me" the look in his eyes was indescribable, but if you had to put it in words, it was love mixed with hate, sadness mixed with anger, but behind everything, it was hopeful and sincere. "Let me be the man in your life that my father couldn't be" you didn't need to hear anything more you gave him a quick kiss sealing off his promise and wrapping your arms around him tightly.

"Thank you," you mumbled into the crook of his neck wetting his shirt with your warm tears, but he didn't mind one bit as he reciprocated the hug.

"Anything for you. I got you" he disconnected from the hug and smiled, wiping your tears. "Let's get you all packed, yeah?" He wasn't trying to pressure you, but the sooner you both could leave, the better.

"Wait" you put your hand on his chest, stopping him from going anywhere.

"What's wrong?" He asked softly and rubbed the back of your palm with his thumb.

"I'm scared," you muttered.

"It's okay. I’m here now, and I won’t ever let him hurt you again" he led you upstairs, and you grabbed only your necessities. You didn't want anything that reminded you of your soon to be ex-husband.

Heeseung gave you a reassuring smile to ease your worries as you dropped your bags off at the door.

You both sat in the living room, waiting for him to come home. "It's okay," heeseung whispered and grabbed your hand. "I'll be here every step of the way. You have nothing to worry about" he kissed your hand but quickly distanced himself from you when he heard the front door crack open.

"Hey, isn't this a surprise you guys are actually getting along for once," he said, and it was now clear as day how condescending his tone was, and it only occurred to you now that that's how he always talked to you when it came to you trying to get close with heeseung you can't believe you didn't notice it sooner.

You can't believe he didn't even mention the date you two were supposed to go on. Then again, if heeseung never showed you what your husband was up to, you probably would have summed it up to him just being tired from “work” like you always foolishly had.

"Can we talk?" You ignored his slight jab and walked over to the kitchen heeseung parted his mouth to say something, but you smiled at him, letting him know you were okay.

"Sure" he took off his shoes and followed you to the kitchen smirking at heeseung while doing so.

"Look, I don't want your explanation. All I want is a divorce" you slid the diamond band off your finger and set it on the counter.

"What?" Your ex-husband chuckled incredulously.

"I know exactly what you've been doing behind my back, and I don't want to be with a person like you. I can't live the rest of my life with a liar," your whole body shook with nerves and fear.

"What are you talking about? I haven't been doing anythi-"

"Don't! Just stop!" you yelled at him for the first time ever. "Save it for someone else" you tried to walk past him, but he grabbed you by your wrist heeseung was watching the whole time from the living room, and as soon as his father laid a finger on you, he was quick to stand up and make his way over to you.

"Don't you dare touch her again" you looked up and saw that heeseung had gotten in between you and was shielding you from his dad.

"Oh, so he speaks," his dad chuckled. "Stay out of this boy. It has nothing to do with you" he pointed his finger in heeseung's face.

"It has everything to do with me," heeseung gritted through his teeth. "You heard her what she said. Now leave her alone."

"Watch your tone with me, boy" he balled his fists and got ready to throw a punch at heeseung, and you screamed in fear, but luckily heeseung was quick enough to dodge out of the way.

"Stay back," heeseung said to you before turning back to his father. "Do not make me do this" he stood up to his father, looking down on him from the height difference heeseung had definitely outgrown his father. He was no longer the helpless teen boy that couldn’t defend himself all those years ago. He had grown into a man that was able to stand up for himself and protect the people he loves.

His father didn't listen, and this time, it was heeseung who was raising his fist and landing a powerful punch to his dad's jaw, knocking him straight to the ground.

Heeseung immediately jumped on top of him, pinning him to the ground while beating his face to a pulp with every punch. He could hear his mother's cries, and with every punch, he saw your sad face, and he went into a fit of complete rage, landing every blow, each hit more powerful, Than the last, as he screamed. "No more!" Over and over again. “I’m not letting you hurt me or the people I love anymore!”

You stood there in shock, whimpering with your hands covering your mouth as tears ran down your face. "Heeseung, that's enough" you went closer to him, and he pushed you back slightly and continued to punch his father's face in, pretty soon. It would be unrecognizable. "Heeseung, please stop" when he heard your broken voice, he immediately snapped out of it and turned around to see you crying. He quickly let go of his father's collar and stood up, wrapping you in his arms protectively.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. You could feel him shaking with pure rage, and it scared you, but you knew he'd never do anything to hurt you. "I'm sorry, love.” He spoke gently and stroked your head. “I just don't want him to hurt anyone anymore." He took a deep breath to calm himself.

"It's all okay now," you comforted him and rubbed his back gently.

He sighed and rested his chin on the crown of your head. "It's okay," he reiterated, swaying your body back and forth in his hold" "ready to go home?"

"But your hand" you held his bloody hands, examining the broken skin on his knuckles, and he winced slightly.

"I'm okay for now. Let's just get out of here" he kissed your forehead softly.

You looked at the floor where the man you once called your husband was laid out unconscious, and as you looked at his bloody tattered face, you felt no remorse, not after he tried to not only hurt you but heeseung as well after you found out everything about him you couldn’t feel one ounce of sadness for him.

Heeseung followed your line of vision, and he felt nothing but resentment toward the man he once called his father. "He can take care of himself" heeseung spat on his unmoving body and hooked his arm around your shoulder, and headed to the door. "Are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he?" Heeseung said with worry.

"No," you whispered and shook your head softly while clutching onto his arm.

“Good” he whispered and kissed your cheek, a faint smile graced heeseung's features, and his eyes lit up as a warm feeling spread throughout his chest. He couldn't put into words how happy he was that you felt comfortable and safe with him.

You grabbed your suitcases and walked out the door hand in hand with heeseung. Once the car was fully loaded with your belongings, he opened the door and helped you inside, buckling your seatbelt and placing one last loving kiss on your temple as you smiled softly at him.

After he got in the driver seat and buckled himself in, he held your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles on your palm, and you're not sure what the future held for you and heeseung, but for right now, you were going to go wherever he takes you.

Cause, after all, it was heeseung that helped you break your unholy ties.

FIN.

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate each and every one of you who made it to the end.

#heeseung smut #smut #enhypen heeseung angst #heeseung hard thoughts #lee heeseung #heeeseung angst #enhypen #lee heeseung smut #heeseung #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #heeseung x reader #fanfic #kpop #heeseung scenarios

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 24 days

Text

they threw envy at me like mud and told me to be grateful; i've never felt luckier than in the passenger seat of your truck.

tj17 x reader: an unorthodox take on what it means to be high school sweethearts.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), hair pulling (ugh, the curls. the curls you guys), oral sex (f on m), crazy amounts of tension and bad communication and self-doubt and pain (you guys know me, just keeping it light!), obviously i'm forgetting things but all my usual stuff. please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: oh my god, my favorites. this has been so long in the making it's honestly kind of embarrassing. first off, it's 20k words (longest one yet! just couldn't help myself). anyways, i give you one of the most special and personal stories i've ever written (and honestly, i'm not sure why - something about the topic of beauty and being yourself and the relationship with the home is going to do it for me every time). thank you for waiting patiently. there's a lot going on here, and lots of plot holes, so if it doesn't make sense in places, don't tell anyone. no, i don't know anything about baseball or influencers. yes, i'm obsessed with mattias samuelsson (his voice is my favorite in the league). and yes, dylan cozens is a librarian who wants to be on jeopardy. and of course jack quinn is jj peterka's barback. this may or may not have been inspired by a crisis i had about my high school ex a bit ago (he was so good to me! and it was probably just because we were kids! but what if no one is that good to me again!). jesus sorry about that, i don't know what came over me. what else? oh, yeah, when i am describing beauty here, please know that i am talking (i'm being dead serious) about kindness. if i have learned one thing throughout my life, it is that a genuine smile and a listening ear is all it takes to get pretty privilege (use it!). this is not a "she's not like other girls" story - the opposite, actually, i hope. i chose tj17 for this because he is the epitome of the hometown sweetheart that you just keep coming back to (look at that laugh!). playoffs soon? (i love when everyone gets all angry and bloody in pursuit of the cup). pretty, pretty please, tell me what you think. i've got lots in the works. i'm sending so much love to you and your snakes. make space for yourself in the places you've outgrown. until next time, all my love).

you could admit that it had probably been too long. too long since you'd last ventured back to your hometown, which, to your amazement, as you drove down main street towards your parents' house, looked almost exactly the same as you remembered it.

you could have come home for senior spring break, or for christmas, but you hadn't - it had to have been since thanksgiving, then, which had practically been an overnight trip.

thankfully, it didn't appear that you had missed much. it was all the same tall pines around the outskirts of the avenues, the same town square with the same family-owned shops, same bar (under new management), same stone library steps and street lights that needed repairs.

the directions on your phone were more so a comfort than a necessity - you'd know the way to your street blindfolded, maybe dead, but it was sort of nice, in a way, to think that you needed help getting there. to think that you'd grown up so much that you no longer knew this place the way you know the songs your dad played in the car on the way to school - entirely and wholly, if not a little senselessly.

in what felt like a blink, you already had made it into the driveway, your subtly luxurious suv suddenly feeling much too big and attention-grabbing. you felt as if you might as well have been driving a limo, maybe one of those sleek borderline race-cars in some flashy color.

you put your car in park and unbuckled your seatbelt, your hands gripping the wheel so hard your knuckles paled.

"arrived at home," the robotic voice from your phone said, which made you choke out a short laugh. in all ways but the ones that mattered, yes, you supposed, this was home.

would it be frowned upon to leave the car running? just in case you needed to make a quick exit? you groaned, laid your head down against the steering wheel, careful not to press your forehead down hard enough to honk.

this was exactly what coming home always felt like - frustration to the point of madness, but control to the point of lunacy. home left you crazy, either way.

you were pulled from your anxious haze by a ping from your phone. the name you saw across your screen made your heart stutter.

are the rumors true?

is the starlet back in town?

you sighed, couldn't help the tiny smile that pulled at the corner of your lips, regardless.

even though you were no starlet, even though the thought of small-town rumors made your breath feel short and shallow.

as much as coming home made you want to tear out your hair extensions one by one, as much as the monotonous continuity of this town made you almost dizzy, there was one thing, one person, rather, whose relentless sameness you looked forward to, every time, without fail.

and that person was tyson jost.

you'd known tyson practically forever, or at least for what felt like forever, ever since him and his family moved next door the summer before middle school.

you still remembered seeing him for the first time, watching from your bedroom window as he carried boxes from his mom's minivan up his driveway.

it had started as all lovely things did - so naturally it was hard to pinpoint how exactly it had started.

you swore you could remember him meeting your eyes through the window, his unruly hair in his face, the easiest smile you'd ever seen stretching across his mouth, only barely visible above cardboard flaps.

but, as you'd learned long ago, your memory wasn't always the most trustworthy of places, knew that it could be dramatic and volatile, at times, so you didn't dwell on what exactly had been the beginning of you and tyson.

all you really knew was that all through middle school and high school, he had been your everything.

your school bus seat buddy, your locker neighbor, your smile across the classroom.

he cheered the loudest at your tennis matches, and you never missed one of his baseball games. he was over yours doing homework every weekday, you were the first person he picked up when he got his license. he was your secret language spoken between opposing open bedroom windows.

of course, as he shed his baby face and you got your braces off, things changed a bit, but not really.

you were still his stop it, tys, giggled under your breath when he'd make goofy faces in class, just to get you to laugh.

he was still your you'll be there, right, kid? spoken so earnestly the morning of the championship game, something like worry clouding his usually relentlessly bright eyes. worry that had floated away when you'd hugged him close, mumbled your of course into his chest.

and his constant support, his never-wavering smirk of a smile, it was exactly what you needed during one of the most turbulent times of your life.

high school is weird for everybody, but it was especially weird for you, whose observant tendencies lended themselves to deep, deep emotions that you felt almost physically.

you were a people pleaser, an approval seeker, and at some point you began to realize that others weren't always as forgiving as you were. that other people may not give you the benefit of the doubt, as you tended to afford them.

it got worse when you realized you were pretty.

sometimes, it felt as if you had been beautiful since you could listen, since you could first turn your gaze on someone and make them feel heard, make them feel seen.

and that was a big part of it all - your quiet kindness, combined with that lovely smile, with that careful posture and easy laugh - it seemed that others had become acutely aware of your beauty long before you had.

you caught on, eventually.

you were sixteen when you started to feel the weight of male attention on you in the hallways, when your bare legs in the warm weather started to feel heavy with expectation, when you started to notice how groups of girls would turn and giggle behind their hands when they thought you were just out of earshot.

it was exciting, at first. girls wanted to talk to you, to be close with you. guys wanted to hang out with you. people wanted to give you things, seemingly for nothing.

you distinctly remembered one humid night, in tyson's bedroom, just after he had driven you both home after his practice. his hair had been damp at the roots, his face still a bit flushed in that rosy way you loved.

he'd been scrolling on his phone while you worked on a geometry problem set, half-focused, the other half telling him about the senior in your econ class who'd asked for your snapchat.

you could still picture his narrow gaze, barely looking up from his screen.

"you know he doesn't want to, like, marry you, right, kid?" he'd said, and it was so flippant that it jarred you.

you'd looked up, blinked, felt suddenly so embarrassed you thought you might be sick. "what?" you asked, "yeah, of course, i just-"

"like, he knows nothing about you besides you being hot," tyson finished, almost coldly, rolling onto his side on the beanbag he was sprawled across.

and he was right, obviously, but it felt really mean, somehow, felt like tiny drops of flame were pricking at your cheeks. you felt, to your dismay, that you actually might cry.

"why do you have to say it like that?" you'd asked, hating how pathetic your voice sounded, how it broke towards the end.

this must have gotten his attention, because when tyson finally looked up, his eyes flooded with gentle apology. he let his phone fall to the side, opened up his arms in invitation.

"'m sorry," he mumbled into your hair when you joined him on his beanbag, let him wrap his arms around you. "'m sorry, kid, know that was mean. 'm just jealous, i think." his tone was so matter-of-fact, not trying to hide anything. you supposed he had always been like that.

you laughed into his breastbone, felt the warmth of him all over your face. "you're jealous?" you asked, "what do you have to be jealous about?"

he gave you your favorite kind of smile, the one that made your stomach flutter. "maybe 'cause you're in my room, and you're smilin' 'cause of some other guy," he mused, which made you look up at him, find completely genuine adoration saturating his gaze.

you hummed.

"and 've been tryin' to get you to see that i like you, and it hasn't been workin'-"

your heart stuttered, because of course you liked tyson. how could you not, when he was your everything? when he had been the one who stood by you, before everyone else had seemed to catch on?

"you like me?" you had whispered, almost like a prayer, and his big, beautiful eyes had shimmered with something lovely. something almost bashful.

you swore you could feel something rumbling against his chest. "well, yeah," he said, "but, i don't wanna lose you, kid, so if you don't feel the same way-"

you'd cut him off by pressing your lips to his in a kiss that felt like sunshine, like a sigh of relief, like pillow forts and fall foliage and sunday morning waffles.

so, from then on, not only were you the beautiful girl, you were the beautiful girl dating the budding baseball superstar.

as such, you were seventeen when you realized that as much as it may have seemed that people wanted to give you things, they wanted to take things from you more. much more.

still, as long as you had your small group of friends, and your grades, and your parents, and tyson, you told yourself you didn't really need everyone to love you.

as long as you were kind and generous and empathetic, everything would be fine.

it grew tough to turn the other cheek all the time, though. especially when guys didn't seem to respect that you were in a relationship, when people were starting rumors about you sleeping around, when girls tried to get with your boyfriend again and again and again just to prove they could take him from you. of course, they never could, but it hurt nonetheless.

still, you'd go to every one of tyson's games, as long as he'd jog to the fence afterwards to give you a goofy kiss, like he'd missed you, even for just the few hours he'd been playing.

you'd endure the snide comments in the stands about your outfits as long as he'd whistle, wrap his arms around your waist, pull you back against him and tell you that he almost dropped an easy ball in the third because you'd looked so distracting.

you'd let people assume you were dumb and obnoxious and entitled as long as he'd ask you about your advanced calculus tests, your data analytics internship, your speech and debate competition.

and that was enough. for high school, that was enough.

inevitably, it became clear that people wanted what you had, no matter what it was, no matter how hard you had worked for it.

you were eighteen when you realized you could make a career of people wanting things that you had.

social media was something you stumbled upon accidentally.

just a random post one day, a couple of pictures of you on the tennis court, a few of you in the stands at one of tyson's games, and suddenly you were flushed with followers and likes, more than you knew what to do with.

of course, this only made the rumors worse, but your friends thought it was funny, and tyson thought it was awesome, so you didn't mind. you just continued posting exactly what you always did - your outfits and weekends and dinners and the like - nothing crazy, always tasteful.

it was only a matter of time before brands were reaching out to you, before you suddenly had the need for management, before your social media accounts actually started to become a source of income.

you recognized how lucky you were for this to even be an option for you - how it was mostly because of something as shallow as appearances, how there was nothing more vain, more potentially vapid than social media.

you never cared about the numbers of it all, though, never looked twice at pictures of yourself, never scrolled through your notifications or comments. tyson was always the first to like your posts, anyways, always commenting first! followed by a string of incoherent emojis (usually including the flame one).

he'd text you, too, after you posted, something like love the filter on the second photo! or quite the handsome hand in the fourth :) about a picture of your coffee that he was holding. enough to let you know that he looked at every picture, that he supported you unconditionally, even though you, yourself, sort of thought the whole ordeal was kind of stupid, that social media was dumb and not worth anyone's time.

you were at a bit of a crossroads towards the end of high school - you wanted to get a college degree, that was non-negotiable, but it seemed too good to be true that you could be paid just for being yourself online, just for developing a personal brand.

it seemed too good to pass up.

before you knew it, it was time to apply for college, and it only made sense for you to aim for schools in los angeles, across the country.

just as it only made sense for tyson to play for the national championship winning state school, only a forty-five minute drive from your hometown in upstate new york.

long distance loomed over the two of you like a thunderous cloud, and the weight of it felt heavier than just breaking up, even though splitting up with tyson was still the most painful thing you'd endured.

you still remembered him dropping you off at the airport, insisting on carrying your suitcases all the way to security, even if he had to leave his truck idle in the drop off line, even though he was probably going to get a ticket about it.

of course, you still remembered how his bright eyes had gone glassy, how he still tried to smile even through his slightly quivering bottom lip. how he'd shuddered in your embrace when you hugged him goodbye.

"you'll come back, kid?" he'd asked, almost pleaded, into your shoulder.

"of course, tys," you'd said, but even the memory of the words felt weightless. "don't forget to call me, okay? every day, if you can."

he'd laughed, then, short and choppy, wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. his voice was wobbly. "'d never forget," he said, and it felt true, then.

and so you and your everything went separate ways. you fell into a routine in california, balanced school and your job as an influencer. tyson had a routine of his own, too, practice and lifts and games and the odd class.

you called everyday, in the beginning, heard about how everyone was really good here, how he was nervous on the field for pretty much the first time ever, how classes were hard and everything was hard without you.

you told him about how smart the girls in your classes were, how you really, really wanted them to like you, how you found yourself going to baseball fall games just because it was familiar.

he'd gotten a sad sort of tone in his voice, then. "how's their shortstop?" he asked, and your stomach dropped, because that was his position, and you had a feeling you knew what he was looking for.

"i've seen better," you whispered into your phone, the weight of missing him feeling like an anvil on your chest.

even though you and tyson weren't together, in the technical sense of the word, it still sort of felt like you were.

there were guys here and there, sure, and you could only guess what a hit tyson was with the sorority end of greek row.

you pretended not to notice, on facetime, when there would be purplish bruises on the column of his throat.

you pretended not to notice how jealous it made you, that someone else knew what his pulse felt like under their lips.

just as he probably pretended not to notice when the back of some other guy's head would make an appearance in one of your posts, just enough to run up the comments.

tyson still liked every single one of your pictures, still texted you about almost every one of them, but for those ones, the ones that shimmered with someone-else-ness, he was notably silent.

neither of you seemed to like the notion that the other had an entire life away from the other. both of you seemed to agree that what you didn't see, right in front of you, couldn't hurt you.

every break though, without fail, the two of you would come home and fall back into whatever you were, without explicitly saying what you were.

all you knew was that when the two of you were home for thanksgiving, or christmas, or spring, or whatever else, your phone would light up with a text like heard you're around?

usually the night that followed would involve huddling together on the massive beanbag that was still in his room, pretending to watch a movie before his lips found yours and your hands found the warm plane of his chest. the air would be hot with the unspoken truth of just one more time, just until i leave, just for a second because i missed you.

he never treated you differently, never made fun of your job, even though it would have been so easy to, never was anything but supportive. he was the same gangly boy walking up his driveway, and you were the same shy girl looking at him from your bedroom window, even if that shy girl now had hair extensions and a bit of lip filler and received invitations for black-tie events.

tyson never seemed to care about all of that, anyways, even as years went on, and you both returned home less and less, texts and calls becoming less frequent.

now, as you sat in your car, staring at the text, there was a bittersweet sort of taste in your mouth, because this would actually be the last time.

you and tyson had both graduated about two months ago, and he had moved back home to play for the minor league baseball team, hoping to gain enough traction to eventually earn a spot in the majors.

this week would be your last week home, one you hoped to spend moving all of your stuff out of your parents' house. you planned to move everything back to your place in la, to officially make los angeles your home for the foreseeable future. it only made sense. you had an absurd amount of followers, now, and all your biggest partners were in southern california.

this would be your last week home, and then upstate new york wouldn't be home anymore.

you stared at your phone, bit your lip, contemplating what to say.

i'm home but we can't fuck because i think i'll cry if we do! you typed, then promptly deleted.

barely in the driveway, you sent instead, how did you already know?

got eyes and ears everywhere, he sent, and you could practically see his smug smile. told cozey at the library to watch for your car.

you smiled to yourself, had no idea who cozey was, but figured you'd probably meet him.

busy today? you asked.

know i'd drop everything for you, he sent, immediately, which had you blushing, had you feeling a little dizzy. but headed into practice now. wanna meet me there in a bit?

you agreed, settled on a time and got the address to meet up with him at the field, later.

for now, you exhaled a deep breath, finally got out of your car, and walked into the house, greeting your parents before heading up to your room to shower and change before you left again.

you washed the residue of travel away, tossed your sweat set in a hamper and pulled together an outfit.

after years of practice, you'd become a kind of expert in quick, easy style, in balancing what you liked to wear and what others liked to see you in.

it was warm, today, but not oppressively so, so you landed on a miniskirt and tall boots, a hoodie that made the entire look more relatable to a wider audience.

that's what your brand had come to rely on, over the years - your life was meant to appear out of reach, but only just so. just enough to entice people to try the eyeliner that you wore to an awards show, to buy the jacket you were wearing to a hockey game, to drink the cocktail in your hand on the beach.

it was a careful balance, but it was one you'd mastered. just imperfect enough to be real. just perfect enough to be an ideal.

you made your way to the address tyson had sent you, parked your car and walked to the fence by the practice field, the familiar sound of the sport making your breaths come out easier, your body feel a little lighter.

you leaned up against the old metal fence, feeling a little selfishly lucky that tyson wasn't in the majors, yet. it'd probably be a little harder to just show up at his practice, if he was.

you scanned the diamond for that familiar figure, that broad frame, the auburnish curls under the brim of a cap. you squinted, but most of the team was too far away.

"are you looking for someone?"

you almost jumped, laid a hand over your startled heart at the voice just next to you, now.

the man next to you was in uniform, so he must be on the team, but he was so far in the outfield, so isolated, it was almost comical. he looked to be about your age.

"yeah, sorry," you said, "i'm here for tyson?"

something flickered across his face at this, like recognition. you'd seen this look before, and it scared you a bit, to know that someone thought they knew something about you before meeting you, but you swallowed your anxiety, for now.

"practice is ending soon," was all your cryptic companion said, fidgeting with his glove.

"okay," you tried, "and what's your name?"

"jack," was his short answer. he had a symmetrical face that you had a feeling looked nervous at its resting state, his brown hair short on the sides, his nose almost feminine.

"nice to meet you, jack," you said, a little wary. "i'm-"

you were interrupted by a familiar laugh that had you grinning on instinct.

you looked up to see a trio of men approaching you, one of whom made your face break out into a smile you couldn't contain if you tried. you locked eyes with tyson, felt your heart almost fizz at the sensation.

the tallest of the three slung an arm around the shortest. "like we're not even here," he said, dramatic, his voice silly in its depth.

"oh, shut up, sammy," tyson said, but his eyes didn't stray from you. he looked awestruck, but not starstruck. like he couldn't believe you were here, but not because of who you were. rather, because of how much he had wanted you to be here.

it seemed that every time you saw tyson, he only got more ruinous in his beauty. he wasn't the lanky kid you'd met all that time ago - now so wide across the chest, the thigh, his arms looming large in his short-sleeve. he'd grown into his body, but his face, too, now so sharp at the jaw and nose, but soft around the cheeks in a way that made his smile crushingly beautiful.

as soon as he was in front of you, he put his hands on your waist, lifted you easily over the fence and wrapped you up in his arms.

you swore the world melted away, for a moment, as you breathed him in, not caring how sweaty he was, or that his friends were around, or how you probably weren't supposed to be on the field.

"i missed you," you murmured into his chest.

"how long do i get you?" he mumbled back, his breath hot on your neck.

"a week," you replied, pulling away, just a bit, not quite telling him the full story, yet. not quite telling him that this time, you were leaving for good.

he hummed, a half-answer, before generously turning to the group of guys who had taken to leaning on the fence.

"you met quinner," tyson said, to which jack raised a shy hand in recognition. he nodded towards the shortest of the group, the blonde, who nodded to you in greeting. "this is jj. two of 'em work the bar downtown on free nights."

you smiled. "you're bartenders?" you asked them, curious.

jj scoffed. "i'm a bartender," he clarified, a trace of an accent making his words quick, "he's my bar-back."

"don't have to tell everyone that," jack mumbled, kicking the dirt softly with one of his cleats.

"and you know sammy," tyson finished, gesturing to his side.

you peered up at the at the tallest of the bunch, whom you remembered as tyson's friend from college, one you'd met multiple times, who'd tried to get your number before he realized who you were to tyson.

"hey, hollywood," sammy asked, and you rolled your eyes at the nickname.

"i wasn't hollywood until i politely declined," you reminded him, smiling, tyson's arm tight around your waist.

sammy gave a light laugh, leaned back further. "and it was your loss," he argued.

"'m not so sure," you sing-songed back.

"careful, hollywood, or i'll cancel you," was sammy's reply, and it made you laugh, at the reminder of just how odd and unique your life was, your job.

after catching up quickly, and making plans to get drinks with them the next day, you bid your goodbyes to tyson's teammates.

as you walked away with tyson, towards the parking lot, you heard the back end of the conversation you'd left in your wake.

"what were you doin' out here, anyways?" came jj's voice.

"just in the outfield, i don't know," jack's mumbly voice said, almost embarrassed.

"yeah, right," sammy replied. "you were tryna put the moves on her, weren't you?"

you bit back a laugh as you fell into stride with tyson. nothing had ever been easier than being pressed against his side, your shoulder curling in, just to be closer to him.

"last time i saw you, you were a national champion," you said, tilting your head to look up at him, smiling. it was crazy to think that he was a professional, now.

"and last time i saw you, you were prepping for that podcast you were going to go on," he said, "how'd that go, by the way?"

you furrowed your brow. "you didn't listen? thought i sent it to you."

he flushed in that way you loved. "i listened," he admitted, "just tryna play it cool, 's all."

you laughed into him, playfully hit him on the chest, relished in the shake of his shoulders. "you're so nonchalant, tys, it's killin' me," you said, and you could almost hear his grin.

"you're sweet, kid," he said, "thinkin' i know what nonchalant means."

then you were in front of his red truck, the same one he learned to drive on, the same one he used to drive you home from school in. "you're a pro and you've still got this piece of-"

tyson opened his mouth in feigned shock. "don't you dare," he warned. "she's no hunk of junk. been with me through everything."

and you swallowed your words. because you knew he didn't mean it like that, but the truth hung between the two of you, nonetheless - that his truck had been with him through everything. that you had not.

tyson seemed to sense your shift in emotion, tried to change the subject. "wouldn't make a habit of calling me a pro, either," he warned.

"yeah?" you asked, and his eyes flashed. "gonna get a big head on me?"

he leaned a little deeper against the passenger door, a little easier. "don't spoil me, kid," he warned, and it was light-hearted, but sort of serious, too. like if you were too nice to him, too lovely, it'd make your leaving all the more painful.

you hummed, sucked on your teeth for a second, a nervous habit. "should i be mean, then, tys?" you pressed, because you missed him, like this. missed the way your breathy words could make his exhales shallow, his cheeks rosy, his eyes glossy.

he rested his temple against the window, crossed his arms over his chest. you mirrored his posture, crossing your ankles and leaning against the side of the car. "know i like you both ways," he said, low, and it had something sparking in your stomach like an old-fashioned lighter.

because you did know. you knew that as much as he liked when you whispered how pretty he was against his mouth, or through spit-soaked lips against his cock, he also liked when you pulled his head back off of you by his hair, when you murmured how greedy he was, how spoiled and bratty.

in a world that wanted to take everything from you, against your will, against your wishes, it felt like something magnificent that tyson wanted to take whatever you'd give him, so badly.

you and tyson had always felt inevitable, in a way, like no matter what (or who) you did, you'd always stumble back together.

"i have my own place, now," he said, and it was strained, almost desperate. "i could show you?"

and you wanted to say yes, so much so that you had to bite your lip to stop the words from coming out. "tys," you began, instead, because you knew that if you didn't tell him your plans, now, you'd regret it forever. you knew that to blindside him would be cruel.

his eyes shone with something other than desire, then. "i know you're not coming back, this time," he said, and you hated the resignation you'd evoked in the most hopeful person you knew. "i know i don't get you again, kid."

you sighed. you supposed it wouldn't have been that hard to infer the truth. you hadn't really been trying to hide it, only trying to minimize damages.

"i just," you said, willing any shake from your tone, looking down at your feet like a coward, "i just don't think it's a good idea for me to come over, tonight."

there was a small pause that felt like a grand piano on your chest. you could feel his probing gaze on your profile, searching for something, some sign. you felt awful that you couldn't give him one.

"okay, kid," he said, eventually. it was impossible to miss the slight disappointment that wavered in his voice. "you'll be here, tomorrow?" the unsure shake in his tone could have killed you.

"i'll see you tomorrow." you said, hopeful, even though all you wanted to do was kiss him so hard it chipped his perfect teeth. "we'll get drinks with your friends?"

he smiled back at you, but his eyes didn't scrunch up at the corners. it wasn't real, not truly. "yeah," he said, "yeah, perfect."

you hugged him goodbye and couldn't ignore how he held you, then - like your feet were buoyant in the air, like you were dreamily floating away, and he was the only thing keeping you on the ground.

that night, in your childhood bed, you slept in bouts of doubt, amidst tantrums of guilt. you slept poorly.

you had some work to do the next morning.

this "work" didn't look the same way work did for most. while you still fostered a general skepticism towards social media, you found small joys in it nonetheless. for example, you still avoided reading comments, and you never watched your videos over again after posting them, but you loved to leave kind words on the posts of people you'd met over the years, of close friends, sometimes of acquaintances.

you enjoyed the feeling of getting an especially lovely shot of your morning coffee, a unique picture of your friend laughing after pilates class, appreciated when girls would reach out to you to say how much they loved a product you'd endorsed. you liked sharing what you thought about books you were reading, how recipes you tried turned out.

you figured that it wouldn't do you much good to dwell on the seemly meaninglessness of what you did. you figured that you could make your own meaning, a meaning that involved kindness and gratitude and genuineness in a world of drama and envy and vanity.

as was the case for most things, for most jobs - there were both good parts and not so good parts.

this morning was pretty tame, in comparison to some of your recent workdays. you had a few videos to shoot (including a sort of ironic get ready with me in my childhood home), a short meeting with your management, and a brand deal to finalize.

you wanted to get all of that done before that night, so that you could fully enjoy your night out. so that you could fully enjoy your time with tyson.

thankfully, your meeting was easy, just a twenty minute check-in on your computer, and filming get ready with me videos had become something of a instinct, so that was fast, too.

for your brand deal though, you wanted to get out of the house, maybe shoot at a location with a little better natural lighting. so, after making some progress packing up your bedroom, you left the house in search of large windows and an abundance of sunlight.

your search proved successful when you found yourself at the local public library. the beautiful stone building had the most gorgeous floor-to-ceiling windows, a ton of sunshine, and a big study space full of desks - perfect for the ad you were shooting for the blue-light glasses brand you loved.

you didn't want to overstep your boundaries, though, knew that different places had different policies on cameras and the like, so you approached the front desk, and the narrow-faced, brown-haired boy behind it, who didn't seem to register your presence, his face all but hidden in what appeared to be a book about the history of horses.

"excuse me," you asked, "can i ask you something?"

he looked up, his face blank, completely devoid of a reaction. "yeah," he said, plainly, not putting his book down.

"great," you replied, your smile cheery. you looked down at his name tag, saw that it read dylan. "i was wondering what your policy was on taking pictures."

"of me?" dylan asked, his brow scrunching up in confusion.

you blinked, half-laughed. "no," you began, slowly. "no, not of you."

"are you josty's girl?" was his follow-up question, and you felt your head spin in an instant, felt your heart well up at his wording. oh, no, how you weren't tyson's girl. oh, how you wanted to be.

you just tilted your head. "you know tyson?"

he nodded, his eyes careful, a little calculating. "he had me watchin' for your rover the other day."

your eyes widened in realization. "you're cozey," you said, and it came out like a laugh, because somehow such a childlike nickname didn't fit the face in front of you, the serious expression, the quiet nature.

he smiled, at bit, his thin lips curling towards the corner. "was startin' to think he made you up," he said, "talks about you so much, and we never saw you."

"oh, wonderful," you said as you dramatically covered your eyes with your palms, consequently getting a strong smell of your perfume, still potently present on your wrists. "can only imagine all the nonsense he's told you."

dylan looked a little confused, but maybe that was just how he looked. "just that you take pretty pictures," he said, "and that he's gonna be busy this week."

you could tell that there was more to what he was saying, that he was keeping something from you, something important, but you didn't pry.

"is it okay if i use that table over there to shoot an ad really quick?" you asked, pointing towards the desk by the window.

he seemed generally confused as to what you were doing and why, but he consented nonetheless.

"thank you," you said to him with a smile, "you're the best, dylan."

he just blinked at you and mumbled a yeah, no problem.

without another person there to help out, you were left to your own equipment, the dreaded tripod making an appearance to get a good shot of you in several pairs of glasses, in front of your computer, looking like you were working.

you were past feeling awkward about taking photos of yourself this way, but the ordeal had memories flooding back to you, anyway.

memories of sitting on the beach with tyson, trying to get an alright angle so that you could capture all of the sponsored swimsuit you had been wearing.

"want me to help?" tyson had said, almost immediately, his curly hair windblown, his chest sandy and tan.

you'd looked at him with such gratefulness, then. at the small gesture that meant he didn't hate the weird life you were living - but rather that he still recognized it was you who was living it.

"could you, please?" you'd asked, couldn't stop the smile his eagerness pulled from you.

and he'd look so happy to be of service, his long fingers making your phone look like a child's toy, his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he poised the camera just so, shifting it softly between shots.

he'd let out a low whistle when you'd angle your body a certain way, mainly to showcase the cute neckline of the swimsuit, but also in a way you knew made your chest look good.

and other guys would probably let loose some snide comment about how it wasn't fair that everyone got to see you like this, how it wasn't right to show yourself off in this way.

of course, tyson didn't do that, though, was never the type for such things.

"am i drooling, kid?" he'd asked instead, leaning his face forward so you could get a better look at his mouth, his eyes sparkling. "feel like i must be, at this point."

and you'd roll your eyes at him, but your chest would feel warm and content, and you'd lean forward and kiss him softly in thank you.

then he'd smiled and scooped you up, phone forgotten on his towel, and ran you over to the ocean, diving into the waves with you in his arms as you'd squealed your disapproval.

"tys," you'd whined, once you'd both come up above the waves again. "now my hair's all ruined." you pouted, but you didn't regret any of it - not when he was looking at you like you were some kind of mermaid, maybe a siren - something or someone he couldn't say no to, even if he'd wanted to.

he'd pulled you against him, so warm in contrast with the cold ocean water, so close you could feel every ridge of muscle against your stomach. "look prettier than any picture," he'd breathed, his cheeks rosy, running his hand through your hair, so genuine it almost hurt to remember.

it didn't feel the same, now, at this sunny library desk, pretending to be someone put together. pretending to be some different person, someone so much more organized and important, simply because of the half-rimmed glasses you were wearing.

regardless, you got the shots you needed, sent them to your management to be approved by the brand, and then began to pack up your stuff, folding your tripod up and throwing your bag over your shoulder.

after checking your phone, you realized you were a little pressed for time, that you'd actually been here for longer than you'd realized.

you stopped by the front desk again on your way out, gave the attendant a small smile. "thank you again, dylan," you said.

he looked up from his book, now something entirely different, not the complete history of horses but rather the complete history of sabretooth tigers. "no problem," he said, his voice fairly uninterested.

"are you coming out with us tonight?" you asked. "to that bar downtown? what's it called?"

"the kid's line," dylan answered. you squinted, slightly, at the odd name for the bar. "yeah, i'll be there. think jj and jack are working tonight."

"i'll see you there, then," you said before turning to make for the door. he called out a quiet goodbye as you did.

it became clear, after about a half hour of you trying to get ready, that something wasn't quite right. as you stood in front of your closet and open suitcase, you blew a stray lock of hair from your face, frustrated.

you had no idea what to wear, which rarely ever happened. nothing felt right. your dresses felt too formal, your skirts too revealing, your jeans not revealing enough.

you were stuck in this weird limbo, this almost purgatory-like mental space - caught between wanting to look really good and knowing it would be a little cruel to do so, when you'd just, last night, practically rejected the one person you wanted more than anything.

perhaps rejection wasn't the right word, as you hadn't flat out denied him, hadn't blatantly lied, said no, tys, i don't want to come over, i don't want to hug you until both our ribcages crack, i don't want to hear you moan into my ear until it's the only sound i can remember.

that happy hope dying out in his eyes though, that blinking realization that this time was different, that this time wasn't going to be like all the others - it sat in the back of your head like an ancient man in an even more ancient armchair.

you sighed, closed your eyes for a moment. home had always been tough to come back to, a place you felt much too big for, like trying to squeeze into middle school jeans. it had been a place defined by mean comments that still lurked in your mind, in snarky looks from classmates and adults alike, in always feeling like you were the last to know things, on the bad end of every inside joke.

tyson had always been your exception, though, your trump card, your tangible proof in a world of through-screen praise that you were worth something.

it was dawning on you, slowly but surely - when you left in a few days, for the final time, when you didn't have him to ground you to the earth like the roots of some great maple - what then? would you even recognize yourself without the heavy knowledge that even if you had nothing else, at least you had him? what would a truly tyson-free you even look like?

you shuddered at the thought, at how much it scared you. still, the question made your decision about what to wear suddenly seem very easy. you threw on your favorite pair of jeans and one of tyson's baseball sweatshirts from high school without giving it another thought before heading out the door and making your way to the kid's line.

this bar used to be called granato's when you were growing up, but apparently the name had changed recently with the change in management. you gave an impressed sort of look as you entered the establishment. it was a lot nicer than you remembered.

you scanned the room for the group you were looking for, which was a little hard, given how packed the place was. you squinted, your gaze shifting from face to face, before you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"they're over by the edge of the bar," a sweet, feminine voice said, making you turn to face a petite woman, probably about your age, maybe a little younger. she wore her smile beautifully on her round face. her black clothes and apron, along with the tray of empty glasses she was carrying, told you that she worked here.

"thank you," you said, smiling back at her, "what was your name?"

"mia," she answered, and you gave her your own name in return.

"how'd you know who i was looking for?" you asked, curious.

she tilted her head like you'd said something funny. "tyson's only been talking about you for about a million years," she said, and the information made you feel guilty and overjoyed all at once.

"i better get over there, then," you said. "it was nice to meet you, mia. i hope i'll be seeing more of you?"

she smiled. "i'm always around," she said, kindly.

you squeezed behind stools, chairs, and people to approach the edge of the bar, quickly recognizing the group of guys you had been looking for.

sammy was the first to notice you, from his high vantage point.

"hollywood," he greeted, deep and loud, "you made it."

"that i did," you said, quickly slotting yourself next to tyson and wrapping an arm around his waist, not giving yourself a chance to be timid, beating your guilt and regret to the punch. "mia showed me the way."

if tyson was reluctant to accept your display of easiness, of affection, he didn't show it, immediately tucking his broad hand into the back pocket of your jeans, the way he used to do in high school. it made you blush, swoon, feel dizzy. dizzy enough to lean your head against the side of his arm.

"mia, eh?" sammy's smirk grew teasing as he looked to dylan, who was basically melting into the wall, gaze averted. "what do you think, coz? should we get her over here?"

your eyes widened in interest. "d'you have a thing for mia, dylan?" you asked, smiling, happy to have something to focus on besides your own internal dilemmas.

the librarian gave something like a dismissive scoff, but his blush was something violent, all over his face, and he almost choked when he took a sip of his drink.

sammy basically pulled his friend from the wall by the back of his neck, slung a huge arm around his shoulder. "it's only been, what, a few years, eh, coz?"

tyson chuckled, and you felt it at your temple.

"why don't you ask her out?" you asked, to which dylan pressed his lips together, like he knew exactly what was going to be said next.

"that would require him to actually talk to her, kid," tyson said, right by your ear, his breath hot, sweet, from the cocktail he was drinking.

you winced. "oh, dyl," you said, slow, almost pitiful.

"i've talked to her," he tried, but it was weak, knowing.

sammy gave that boisterous laugh, tilting his head back. "good one, coz."

you hugged tyson closer to you, smiling into the embrace, loving how it felt to be a part of his world, if only for a bit. you realized that you were almost hungry for it - for tyson's world, his touch, just him.

such a predicament wasn't helped when he leaned down, slightly, just enough to make the music feel far away. "like your sweatshirt, pretty thing," he said, and it was the kind of rasp that told you that he'd had a few drinks before you'd arrived.

regardless, you looked up at him with an almost delirious hope in your eyes. "yeah?" you asked, reaching up to push his curls from his face, so you could see his hooded eyes.

he hummed. "know i love my number on you," he said, and your knees practically wobbled, because you did. you remembered how so many nights spent in the stands with his number on your back ended in ways that had you wondering where he began and you finished.

your heated haze was diluted when someone bumped into you with something cold, jarring you, making your head snap to your left.

you were met with a guilty looking jack quinn in all black, supposedly on the job, with a bucket of ice in his hands.

"sorry," he said, walking towards the other side of the bar.

tyson pulled you back so you were right in front of him, allowing you to relax against his chest. "watch where 're goin', eh, quinner?"

"jack," came a jj-sounding voice from next to sammy, shaking some drink together over his shoulder. "what'd i say about walking through the room with the ice?"

"to not to," jack mumbled, making you shake in a soft laugh.

jj winked at you, which made the arms around your front tighten, ever so slightly, just enough to notice. just enough to feel wanted. "sorry, beautiful," jj said, "my bar-back's not the brightest of the bunch."

"that's just mean," jack mumbled to himself as he dumped the ice in the cooler below the counter.

"no worries at all," you said, "didn't feel a thing."

dylan laughed by the wall. "don't have to lie," he said, "know he swings that thing around like a mace."

"oh, big words from the bookworm, eh?" sammy chided, leaning back against the counter.

dylan rolled his eyes. "mace is four letters," he responded. "not my fault it'd take you a few tries to spell your own last name correctly."

sammy scoffed, set his beer down. "whatever," he said, "'m gonna go talk to that smoke by the door."

there was a moment during which he waited for dylan's retort, but it never came. he shot dylan a look. "your silence is speaking volumes, coz," he said, walking away. "tell mia i say hey."

the lot of you watched as sammy approached the blonde woman with sharp features who was standing off to the side of the door.

tyson laughed lightly when his friend's posture grew suggestive, when sammy leaned down to hear the woman when the music in here wasn't even that loud.

"such a tool," dylan mumbled when sammy took her hand and kissed the top of it, like some kind of prince courting a fair maiden. by the looks of the woman's flush, her delighted laugh, the tool seemed to be doing okay for himself.

the night passed both sluggishly and too fast, defined by tyson pressed against you, the sound of laughter, the taste of some cocktail that jj had named the hollywood.

the hollywood was fruity, sweet, and pink, but it turned out to be lethal - after one you knew your time drinking was over if you hoped to drive home at the end of the night. tyson, however, had a few of them, and you could tell. you couldn't say you minded, not that much.

ever since he could drink, tyson had been a truly flirty drunk. alcohol seemed to make his hands stick like velcro to you, make his posture hunch just to be at eye level with you. with a few empty glasses came sweet words from his mouth, if not a little jumbled. his cheeks always flushed so pink, and he became even more uninhibited about showing you just how happy he was to be around you.

tonight was no different. as you listened and joked with his friends, his embrace grew steadily more meaningful, until he was practically hanging off of you like a garland on a christmas tree.

at some point, jj said something that made you laugh, and you could feel tyson's pout on the back of your neck. it made you scrunch your brow in confusion, look up at him, push his hair from his blushy face.

"what's wrong, tys?" you asked, quietly, just for him.

he sighed, and it made him younger than he was. you turned to face him, fully, wrapped your arms around his neck, ran your nails along the back of his hairline, just how you knew he liked. when he sighed again, it was in bliss. he looked at you like there had never been anyone else in this world more interesting.

"just want you, i think," he said, so blunt and honest, as he always was, and it cracked your chest in two.

"is that all?" you breathed, and you meant it as a joke, but it came out strained. he rested his palms on the small of your back.

he smiled, slightly, the corner of his full mouth pulling upwards. "yeah, nothing new," he said, "same as always." something like indecision flickered in his gaze before he pressed a kiss to your cheek, then to the other, then to your forehead, his lips so warm and doting and lovely and familiar.

your own lips parted slightly at the sensation, and you felt yourself leaning forward slightly, practically begging him to kiss you, for real-

a cold, hard, smack against your leg ripped you from your fantastical daze. once again, you turned to find jack and his bucket of ice.

"jesus christ, jack!" jj called from behind the bar. "honestly, it's not that hard!"

jack set the ice down on the ground, turned to jj with something like anger in his eyes. "why don't you do it, then, if it's so easy?"

jj shook his head like this was the craziest thing he'd ever heard. "the bartender doesn't get the ice, idiot," he said, "that's like the first rule. apologize to the beautiful lady."

jack shook his head, murmured his apology to you before taking the ice behind the counter.

sammy was long gone, supposedly with the blonde from before, and dylan had wandered off. he said he was going to the restroom, but mia appeared to have intercepted him mid-walk.

you smiled to yourself at the sight - he looked about as nervous as a person could get, hand in his pocket, the other wrapped so tightly around his glass that his knuckles were white. mia didn't appear to mind, either way, if her easy laugh and wide grin were anything to go by.

when she tilted her head back in a sweet giggle at something he had said, dylan looked just about stunned.

you turned back to tyson, wrapped one of his big hands up in both of yours. deja vu stole your breath for a second. you used to do this before big games. tyson would turn to you before he had to join the team, offer his left hand to you.

"warm her up for me, please, kid," he'd say, wait for you to run your palms over his. he would refuse to leave until you pressed your lips to his knuckles, swearing it gave him good luck, that he wouldn't play well without your seal of approval.

at this point in his career, with him playing without you, you both knew this wasn't true, but it felt true, then.

"let's get you home, pretty boy," you said to him, now, knowing he was not in a state fit for driving. "i'll give you a ride."

you leaned forward on the bar counter, not dropping his hand. "thanks for tonight, boys," you said to jack and jj. "wonderful service."

"anything for you, beautiful," jj said, wiping the counter down. you supposed that his charm must make him quite good at this job.

"'m sorry about the ice," jack said, scratching the back of his neck. "it's just really heavy."

"aren't you a professional athlete?" you teased, tilting your head.

jack looked confused at the relevance of your comment. "i guess," he said.

on your way out, you passed mia and dylan. you thanked her again for her help. "oh, and dylan told me he set aside a book at the library for you," you said, and the man in question began to shake his head vigorously, trying ever so hard to get you to stay in your lane. "right, dyl?"

he gave you an angry look that evaporated as soon as mia turned to him, looking genuinely touched. "really?" she asked.

dylan coughed. "i guess so," he said, clipped, "got a real great read for you." you made a gesture with your free hand for him to continue, to keep talking. "and you can pick it up," he paused, squinting at you, as if deciding, "tomorrow."

after that had been decided, you and tyson officially said your goodbyes. he was a little slow on his feet, but he got into the passenger seat fine, if not a bit quietly.

"you'll be good if i drop you at yours?" you asked as you pulled out of the parking lot. you knew he hadn't had too, too much to drink, that he should be fine on his own for the night, especially if his roommate, sammy, would be coming home later tonight.

tyson just nodded, gave you his address. you wanted to ask him what was wrong, why he was suddenly so quiet, but a selfish part of you didn't want to know.

he spoke, eventually, regardless. "you're so good with them," he said, and it was soft, almost wistful.

"with who?" you asked, making a right turn. you were thankful that driving gave you an excuse not look at his face.

tyson gave a vague gesture. "them," he said, "everyone. my friends, this town. you're good, here." there was a pause. "you're good with me, kid."

it was selfish and probably cruel, but you were a little grateful that he was tipsy, so you could chalk it up to the alcohol. so that you could deny it wasn't just the plain truth.

"tyson," you began, but then you bit your lip, unsure.

"wow, full name," he said, sad but teasing, like he was trying so hard not to be serious. "must've really fucked up." he turned to face you as you pulled into his driveway, and when he spoke again it was as cruel as you'd heard him. "was it something i said?"

there was a pause during which you had absolutely no clue what to say. because as much as his confession had hurt you, because of how much you knew it hurt him, these words hurt in a different way. if you're good with me had been a slow growing infection, a dull and steady pain, was it something i said was a dagger wound to the ribs - sharp and stinging with every exhale.

and it probably wasn't fair, because it hurt you only because it was true, only because it reminded you how much you were killing him. it hurt because it was guilt. it wasn't fair, because who were you to hurt, now? all because the person who had always taken everything you gave him was finally asking for something? the one thing you couldn't give him?

luckily, tyson didn't seem to want to stick around to hear your answer, instead getting out of the car with a heavy breath and walking up to his front door, unlocking it and closing it behind him without a look back.

you were practically shaking for the rest of the night, all throughout the drive to your place, as you brushed your teeth and took off your makeup, as you tucked yourself into bed and stared up at the ceiling.

you thought about texting him, saying something like you know i can't do this, but you figured it would just be salt in the wound, so you just tossed and turned all night, trying to push his disappointed tone and rosy resignation from your head.

the next couple of days passed in agony. you weren't sure if you could reach out to tyson, and he didn't reach out to you, so the countdown to your final goodbye ticked down. it felt like a waste, because you only had so many days, and you weren't even getting to see him for so many of them. all because of you. or him. or both of you.

you used your isolation as much-needed time to catch up on work and finally make some serious progress on packing up your room.

mornings were filled with brand deals and computer meetings and phone calls and filming. when the sun dipped lower in the sky, like an inflated end of summer peach, too heavy for the breezy blue sky to support, you would turn your attention to your dresser, your drawers, your storage bins.

it was fine. it was all fine - this was what you had come home to do, in the first place. this was the whole purpose of you coming home.

eventually, though, when you sighed, opened up your closet doors to tackle the very last space you had to deal with, when you realized after the closet was done, you would be done, when it registered that you were leaving tomorrow night, when you couldn't really bear the thought of not seeing tyson on your last night here, you caved.

you took the easy way out, though, didn't just text him i miss you or i'm sorry, instead pulled out the second place talent show trophy you'd found buried under tennis skirts and winter coats, took a photo of it and sent it to him.

still think we were robbed, you added, even though it wasn't true. the kid who won the year you and tyson did a magic act was a truly exceptional pianist, and all you did was gesture towards tyson's card tricks in a sparkly outfit. for the whole year afterwards, though, the two of you would joke about how the whole thing was rigged, how you demanded a recount, how first place was overrated.

it made you smile, to remember a time when the two of you were so close, when the prospect of being separated wasn't even on your radar.

you half expected tyson to ignore your message, maybe to tell you to fuck off with all of your weaponized nostalgia, but of course he didn't.

within minutes, he had sent you back a picture of his own trophy, displayed somewhere with his diploma, college degree, and all of his baseball stuff.

of course, he never would have let such a relic sink to the depths of his closet, to be all but forgotten amidst old halloween costumes and flannel bedsheets. he would never have let a reminder of you be anything but front and center.

probably would have won if you'd been running the show, he texted back, and a small smile tugged free on your face. it felt like the first time you'd smiled in days.

yeah? you responded, think you could pull off the sequins?

is that even a question? was tyson's response. you could practically see his smirk, his easy lean.

there was a second of pause as you stared at the bubbles on your screen that let you know that he was typing.

you're probably busy, he sent, but we're playing at home tonight.

your decision to go see him was made in a second, in a second that you realized tyson jost thought that there was a possibility that you could ever be too busy for him.

too scared, maybe, too self-conscious and self-doubtful, sure, but too busy? never.

i'll be there, you sent back, tacking on an i miss you, tys on the end just because it was true.

after assuring you he'd drive you home after, he texted you an i miss you, too, kid.

you finished packing up your closet, got ready for the night. you were going to get at least a few photos of you in the stands, as the ballpark lighting would add some variety to your natural-looking feed, so you decided to put a little more effort into what you were wearing, made sure to set your face well enough to last.

not enough effort, however, to refuse to wear tyson's cap from high school, the one that had his number stitched into the brim. you texted dylan, since you figured he'd be attending to support his friends, arranging to sit together once you'd both arrived.

after a final look in the mirror and a deep breath, you headed out the door and took the bus to the ballpark, turning your music up loud enough in your headphones to drown out any thoughts of doubt or guilt or regret.

dylan wasn't there yet when you arrived, so you figured you'd take the time before the game started to get those pictures you wanted. you made your way to your seat, set up the timer on your phone, went through the routine you usually went through when you were shooting in public, changing your angle or pose slightly after each shot.

you didn't spread out, made sure not to intrude on anyone's space - you were well practiced in being courteous and conscious while taking pictures.

even so, it wasn't long before you heard the distinct sound of poorly-hidden laughter just behind you, a few rows back, just loud enough and close enough to know they were laughing at you.

"is she actually doing that right now?" came a voice that you could almost recognize - if there's someone who doesn't know what a judgmental high school girl sounds like, perhaps they should consider themselves lucky.

someone else, probably her friend beside her, snickered. "probably hopin' one of the players will notice her."

at this point in your career, you were used to people not getting it - not getting you. and while you had long ago made peace with the fact that guys could just be jerks, especially when you weren't interested in them, it had always been the hate from girls that hurt the most.

it had been the same way in high school, when girls, yourself included, were still learning that life wasn't some grand fight-to-the-death competition for which the prize was male attention. you knew that if girls were mean to other girls, more often than not, it was because they had been taught that that was just the way it was supposed to be, bombarded from a young age with ideas about cat-fights and mean girls and such.

of course, having gone through it yourself, you knew that such behavior was something you grew out of, something that comes with the privilege of having close female friends, the privilege of understanding how lovely and genuine such friendships can be.

you chose to give these girls behind you the benefit of the doubt, to believe that they would grow out of their meanness. and sure, you could have turned around and snapped at them, maybe even said something about how you didn't need one of the players to notice you, because number seventeen was already yours (even though that wasn't all the way true).

you could have done a lot of things, but instead you just turned to face them and smiled.

the one on the right gave you a guilty look, like she'd been caught.

"sorry to be a bother," you said, "but do you think you could take a few for me?" you handed your phone out to her. "i'd love some from your angle. you can say no, though, no problem."

one of the thing you'd learned along the way was that it was harder to be critical about things you were directly involved in.

the pair of girls blinked at you for a second, but eventually, the silence was broken.

"yeah, sure," one said. "no problem."

"awesome, you're the best," you said, then showed her how to angle the phone and what settings to put your camera on.

she took a few and then handed the phone back to you. your eyes widened as you looked through the photos she'd taken. "woah." you looked up to meet her expectant gaze. "you're, like, really good at this," you said, because it was true - you now had several good options to post.

the girl blushed, and the sight made you really, genuinely happy. "i'm into photography," she admitted, "usually not people, but, i mean, i don't know."

her friend smiled, slapped her playfully on the arm. "don't be humble," she teased, before looking towards you, "she took my prom photos and they were crazy good."

"i believe it," you said, nodding, before gesturing between them. "do you want me to get one of you guys?"

after they agreed and handed you one of their phones, you shot a couple of them, together, arms around each other, their smiles genuine and brighter than the massive lights above the ballpark. eventually, your phone buzzed.

"i think that means my friend's here," you said, then handed them back their phone. "but it was really nice to meet you guys. thanks again for your help."

one of them waved you off. "of course," she said, "anytime."

you gave them a wave and a smile as you made your way back down to your seat, where dylan was waiting.

as you turned, you heard them begin to whisper again, but with a very different tone.

"she's, like, so pretty," one said.

"oh my god, right?" the other agreed, "and i need that jacket."

you bit your lip to stifle your smile as you settled into the seat next to dylan. it was honestly kind of crazy - how simply being kind made you that much more beautiful in the eyes of others.

"hey, dyl," you greeted, taking in the tall, thin figure to your left before narrowing your eyes. "why're you dressed like you're on the run?"

dylan scoffed, but your observation was spot on. your companion had on two sweatshirts and a bucket hat, tilted down so that his face was barely visible. "i'm not," he said. you raised a brow, to which he sighed. "mia said she was coming tonight."

you all but squealed, pressed your palms together and held the side of your hands to your lips. "why're you hiding, then?" you asked, your fingers itching to rip the hat from his head.

"because i gave her a book like you forced me to," he bit out.

"well," you said, "what book did you give her?"

"the complete history of open heart surgery," he answered, plainly.

you grimaced. "oh, dylan," you sighed. "why didn't you give her a cute little rom-com, or, like, a book with a character that reminds you of her?"

"i got nervous, alright?" he said, gesturing flippantly. "i just gave her the book i had been reading the day before."

"what's with all the complete histories, anyways?" you asked, curious. "every time i've seen you, it's been something different."

dylan cut you a side glance as the teams stilled, as the announcer introduced the anthem singer. "'m training," he said, "for jeopardy."

you took off your hat and shook your hair loose, deciding as the anthem began that there were crazier things that your hometown librarian training to be on a trivia game show.

as the music ended and you turned back to the diamond, clapping with the rest of the crowd, you searched for number seventeen, for that figure you'd know blind. you found him, his curly hair unruly even under his hat, the sight of him enough to make you practically sigh in relief.

if you hadn't been aware of how much you'd missed him, these last couple of days, the ache in your chest was making that abundantly clear, now, the weight of it impossible to ignore.

the game passed fairly predictably. tyson's team was the heavy favorite, and they had pulled away in just the first few innings. sammy was pitching a heater, and jack and jj proved to be much more of a reliable duo in the outfield than they were behind the bar.

of course, you weren't particularly paying attention to anyone besides tyson, your gaze almost glued to him under the harsh light above the bleachers.

nostalgia had become something like a dagger since you'd been home, but there was something lovely about the way sitting in the stands and watching him play made you feel.

you'd been in this position a thousand times before, through high school varsity and club teams and summer league. you'd been an observer from a distance during his college years.

and here you were, back again, both of you so, so different and yet devastatingly, beautifully the same. as you hugged one knee up to your chest, you felt young in a way you hadn't felt in years, maybe ever.

it felt so good to not have to worry about anything besides if you were cheering too loudly.

"i just don't want to embarrass you," you used to say to tyson on the drive home, when you'd bring up your anxiety on the topic.

he'd squeeze your knee, chuckle to himself. "you could never, kid," he'd say, "want everyone there to know you're there for me."

you barely noticed dylan's practically frantic search around the stands for mia, or jj and jack's dugout antics (spilling blue gatorade on each others' white pants), or sammy's loud voice basically cutting through the night air.

the only thing you noticed was tyson's easy posture, easier smile, perhaps easiest laugh. he was at home, here. he had a home, here, and there wasn't a single part of him that was embarrassed about it.

the realization made you flush with something you couldn't quite put your finger on, something like want, or maybe more like need.

something that had you crossing and recrossing your legs, adjusting the hair on the back of your neck, almost sighing with relief when the game finally ended, when you and dylan made your way to the ballpark back exit, where tyson had promised to meet you.

"well, i guess you successfully avoided mia," you said as the two of you waited.

dylan let out a sharp breath. "yeah," he conceded, "thank god."

you smiled at his tone, though - you had a feeling this was exactly what he needed to realize that avoidance was the last thing he actually wanted.

"quite the game, eh, hollywood?" came that comically deep voice, behind you, forcing you to turn and face the group of guys now coming through the open doors.

you didn't waste any time, felt like you couldn't afford to - spotting tyson's smirk-line smile quickly and making to almost tackle him in a hug.

sammy scoffed. "like we're not even here," he reiterated, before opening his arms up to dylan with that loopy grin on his face. "where's my celebratory hug, cozey?"

dylan looked positively horrified, stiffening up in the shoulders as sammy embraced him in one of the more awkward hugs you'd seen in your life.

you didn't really care, though, weren't really paying attention to anything but tyson. because as soon as you'd wrapped your arms around him, he'd done the same, dropping his bag immediately to make space for you, slotted his heavy arms around your waist, pulled you close enough that you turned your head to rest your cheek on his collarbone.

with an exhale into his neck, you had the harrowing yet comforting thought that there would never be anything as good as this.

"what's this for, kid?" tyson whispered into your hair, his nose brushing your temple, quiet, like he didn't want anyone to hear but you, like he was afraid he might scare you off.

you could have murmured something like does there need to be a reason? but you knew you both were aware of how you'd been ignoring each other for days. you knew you both were aware that you were leaving tomorrow.

"for you," you mumbled, breathing him in, memorizing him, like this.

he pulled away slightly, flicked the brim of your cap, speaking in a way that made his smile evident, his other arm still around your waist. "all for me, eh?"

you nodded, flushed, looking up at him through your lashes, eyes wide with expectation. you wanted to be all for him, so, so badly, even if it would be the last time. especially if, even. you were hanging off of his frame in a way that you thought probably made you look almost drunk. maybe you were drunk, in a sense, but not at the fault of alcohol.

"okay, well, i still need a ride home." jack's slightly louder voice drew your attention.

"how is that possible? how did you even get here?" jj asked him, incredulous.

jack shrugged, looked down, scuffing the bottom of his shoe against the pavement.

jj's head was already in his hands. "don't tell me you took one of those stupid scooters."

jack's squinty look was answer enough.

you felt tyson's laugh rumble through your body in a way that had you feeling almost limp against him. your heart felt hot in your chest.

"why can't you just drive me?" jack pestered his blonde friend. "my place is, like, two seconds from yours!"

"why can't you just get a functional car that doesn't need to be in the shop every other week?" jj countered.

you tilted your head up to tyson's ear as the bickering continued, as sammy egged jj on and dylan remained silent. "think we can sneak out?" you whispered.

his pink mouth ticked up at the corner. "in such a rush to get home?" he asked, and when his eyes flickered down to meet yours, you realized his question went deeper than a surface level joke.

you nodded, squeezed his bicep. "want to go home with you, tys," you clarified, and something burned in his gaze that had your knees weak.

you and tyson bid the arguing group goodnight, assuring them that you would make sure to see them tomorrow, before you left.

"just drive him home, jj," tyson called over his shoulder as the two of you walked to his truck. "'m sure he'll make it up to you."

sammy laughed loudly, at that. "yeah, sure," he said, "he'll let you split scooter fare with him next game."

tyson opened the passenger door for you, helped you into your seat before closing it, putting his stuff in the backseat, stepping easily into the driver's seat.

you leaned back against the familiar worn-in leather, the seat you'd spent practically all of high school in. this seat had been something of a throne to a younger you, and sitting here, now, it felt just as powerful. you swore you could feel the weight of a tiara on your head.

tyson smiled as he started the car, which jumped to life quickly. "think she missed you," he said, half-joking.

you ran a hand along the dash, careful. "missed her, too."

to your surprise, you found yourself fidgeting, slightly, on the drive, at red lights and stop signs.

"i can still drop you at yours, if you want," tyson said, and you could have cried at how selfless and sweet the gesture was. never pressuring you, even now. he wrapped one of your hands up in one of his bigger ones, brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles softly. "i understand."

and maybe you would have taken the easy way out he'd offered you, it probably would have been the smart thing to do, but it was his last few words that had your head spinning. i understand. in a world where it felt like no one understood you, he did. he did.

of course that was enough to have you shaking your head, soft as a sleeping breath. you traced your fingers along his jaw, rough under your touch as he leaned into you, like an instinct, like he couldn't help it.

"i don't want you to drop me at mine," you said, and it came out sort of strained. "i want you, tys." you'd worry about the repercussions of your actions later. there wasn't room for anything else besides honesty in you, anyways.

his eyes practically fluttered shut at your words, and he let out a sound that was scarily close to a whimper. everything about him appeared so overwhelmed with lust that you wondered if he was okay to make the rest of the short drive home. "makin' it hard not to pull over, kid," he basically whined.

you pouted, just a bit. "you can wait a little longer, can't you?" you cooed, twisting one of his curls around a delicate finger, lifting your mouth to his ear. "'d rather you fuck me into your mattress than the backseat." you smiled against his neck at his feverish nod.

before you knew it, tyson had pulled the car into his driveway, opened your door for you, tugged you inside and nudged you up against the shut door with a broad thigh.

his gaze hung from your mouth like looking away would turn him to stone. when he dipped his head down to you, you felt your bottom lip quiver. he spoke, and you could feel the words on your own mouth, like it was you speaking them.

"can i?" tyson breathed, begged, his eyes so hot and hooded it should have burned you. "please?" one of his hands found your hip. "i need it."

later, maybe you would think about how it was this that seemed more off limits than anything else. it was his lips on yours that had felt the most forbidden, the most right, therefore the most cruel.

there had never been anything you'd wanted more, though, so you nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck as he cupped the side of your face in his rough hand, guiding your lips to his in a kiss that felt like a warm shower after a snow day.

kissing tyson was second nature to you, now, after so many years of practice, yet it still took you by surprise. he felt like late nights after school, like summer popsicles and picnics, like laughing so hard your stomach hurt. he felt like throwing your graduation cap, like playing catch in the driveway even though you couldn't throw to save your life, like crying in his arms the day you got your college acceptance.

his thumb traced circles into your jaw as you rooted your hands in his hair, still damp with sweat, kissing him harder, deeper, as if a whirlwind of meaning and memory and significance wasn't spinning around the two of you like a tornado. like you weren't being swept up and away.

he sighed into your mouth like he'd been holding his breath for years, and he tasted like orange gatorade, which made your head spin.

tyson had started drinking only orange gatorade junior year, when you'd mentioned after kissing him after practice one day that you liked the orange flavor but not really any of the other ones.

and here he was, still drinking it. like he needed to be prepared at all times, in case the opportunity to kiss you arose.

the realization made you well up with want as you bit down lightly on his bottom lip, rolled your hips lazily against his front, felt him already hard. he groaned, deep, and your stomach was a wave of desire.

you pulled away, slightly, watched his eyes flutter open, almost reluctant, his forehead resting against yours, your breaths hot, heavy.

you gave him a wicked smile, rolled your hips again. "already hard for me, tys?" you teased, your voice slow, false-pitying. "so needy, hm?"

"got no idea," he grumbled, his head dipping down to your neck when you palmed him over his pants. he left messy, open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone, your shoulder. when he moaned you could feel the vibrations against your skin like snowflakes. "no idea, kid."

you hummed. "want you in my mouth, tys," you said, voice rough, almost weary with desire. "gonna let me?"

he nodded, pulling you to his bedroom basically before you'd gotten the words out. "anything you want," he murmured, like a prayer, as he pulled you close against him, sat on the edge of his bed.

even in your lust-driven state, you still clocked the room around you - how much bigger his bed was than the twin he had at his parents' place. how much he'd grown, in the most intangible sense of the word.

it made you soften, slightly, made you bend down to rest on your knees, but not without a quick detour to his lips on the way there, a gentle, grateful kiss.

a kiss that had tyson's eyelids fluttering again, caught in some dreamy haze. you knew the feeling - it had been so long since you'd had him like this, and it was very likely that you'd never have him like this again. the gravity of the situation seemed to make him hypersensitive, especially whimperish and touch-hungry.

it made you want to memorize every single thing about him, his body, his sounds. it made you want to ruin him for anyone else who may be lucky enough to come after you.

now sitting back on your heels, you rested your elbows on his wide-spread knees, peered up at him as you lazily continued to palm him. his breaths came out like pants when you finally took him out, fully, spit into your hand and ran it up and down his cock in a firm, slow grip, relished in his strained groan, the way he had to hold himself up with a palm flat against the mattress, bringing the other to the side of your head, gathering your hair away from your face.

you gave a blissful sort of sigh at the sight of him, chest rising and falling, cheeks flushed, gaze so steadily focused on you as you worked his hard length. "oh, tys," you said, "why do you have to be so pretty?"

his lips quirked, ever so slightly, his brow still slightly pinched. "'m sorry, kid," he conceded, only a little smug, only a little cocky, just enough to make you aware of how wet you already were. "can't help it."

you chuckled, a light soft sound, then ran your tongue along the underside of his cock before finally moving to take the whole of him in your mouth.

you flattened your tongue against him, hollowed your cheeks, began a steady pace as you focused on his thick thigh flexing while you dug your nails into it for support, the way his grip in your hair grew desperate, hard, forcing a moan from your throat.

"fuck, 're so good at that, pretty thing," he rasped, at some point, once you'd gotten into a rhythm, once your eyes started to water and your neck started to tense, "so fuckin' good for me."

you hummed at his praise, lifted your head off of him, ran your wet lips along the length of him, using your other hand to run a thumb along the tip, couldn't help but smile against him when he shuddered, his neck rolling to the side for a moment. "taste so good, tys," you breathed, surprised at how rough your voice sounded, muffled with spit. "could suck you off forever."

and you sort of felt like you could - there was something about him, like this, so lovely and physical yet so entirely at your mercy, that made the dull ache in your jaw feel good, that made your raw throat burn like you'd just downed a shot of tequila, that made your sensitive knees and tense forearms feel sore in the best way.

there was something about knowing that, in this moment, there was no part of you that was hurting him, that every little bit of you was entirely focused on making him feel good.

"yeah?" he rasped, tugging lightly at your hair, his arm flexing to keep him upright. "love to make out with my cock, hm?"

you nodded, smiled up at him through lazy lips, your lashes long and heavy as you rested your cheek on his knee, just looking at him for a second. his hair curling into his face, a pink flush blooming up from his neck as he traced a thumb across your cheekbone, down to your swollen bottom lip, memorizing the way it felt on the pad of his finger. he wanted to remember you, like this, it seemed. you wanted to remember him, like this, too.

eventually, after a few exhales that felt weighted with meaning, he gently pulled you to your feet and onto his lap, but not without kissing you again, softer and sweeter and almost sadder, drowsy in a way that felt like lingering along the outskirts of a funeral for a loved one - not willing to leave, just yet, like your general closeness might somehow resurrect them, and you didn't want to miss it.

his wide hands kneaded at the flesh of your hips, slow and intentional, as his lips against yours grew even more sluggish, as you wrapped one arm around his neck for leverage, grasping at his firm chest with the other hand.

when he brought a hand down, shifted your clothes aside so that he could run his fingers through your folds, he hissed against your mouth, making you almost laugh.

"all this, for me?" he asked, forefinger just barely grazing your clit, making you jolt against his lap. "fuck, how lucky am i?"

you whined, let your head loll down to his shoulder as you rocked your hips against his hand, aimlessly chasing some kind of friction, relief from the tension that had been building inside of you for so long. "please, i need it, baby," you tried, "need you so bad."

he hummed, tracing lazy circles on your clit, making your breathing short and shallow, "what do you need, pretty thing?" he pressed, bringing his fingers to his lips and sucking lightly. you felt his words against your temple. "know 'll give it to you."

"can i have," you began, then whined when he teased you with a broad thumb, "can i have your cock inside me, tys?" you asked, "please, baby, 'm so hungry for it."

he groaned, and you felt it in your hair. "'course you can," he cooed as he flipped you on your back, lined himself up, the tip of his length catching against you, making your eyes flutter, "so polite for me, too."

you basically squeaked when he began to push into you, hard and deep immediately without hesitation. you had the thought that perhaps it was a little odd that somehow, even after all these years, tyson still blew you entirely out of the water, some perfect combination of a pleasure you'd never get used to and a comfort that you'd know in the dark.

he swore under his breath, so strained and desperate, as he pushed deeper into you, so slow you felt the pressure of it on the roof of your mouth, the length of him in the muscles of your thighs.

"that's it," he choked out, one hand on your hip, the other up higher, by your ribs. "fuck, that's it, pretty thing."

you reached a hand up to muffle your own sounds, because all of it was too overwhelming. when he began a steady pace, thrusting in and out with a force fueled by meaning, you whimpered against your own palm.

"oh, no," he said, low, with a spark that had you seeing stars as he picked up his pace. "know i want to hear you, yeah?" he took your hand from your mouth and pinned it to the mattress in a tight grip. "let me have it, hm?"

you nodded feverishly, interlacing your hand with his in a silent promise. "you're so deep," you breathed, "so good, tys, can't stand it."

he sucked on his teeth, moved his hand from your hip down to where your bodies met, swiping your wetness around with his thumb like he was in a trance. "yeah?" he asked, teasing your clit again, making you feel like you were going to explode, making you see fiery shooting stars at the edges of your vision. "feel me here, hm?" he pressed down lightly, increasing the sensation, making you cry out, squirm on his length.

"fuck, baby, right there," you whined, squeezing your eyes shut while his pace grew almost wretched, as his hips began to sputter and you could see his shoulders and neck tense. "wanna cum on your pretty cock, tys, please let me."

he hummed, his pace not relenting for even a second. "no one can fuck you like me, hm?" he rasped, almost delirious. "tell me, kid." he gave a quick grunt. "promise 'll let you milk my cock."

you whimpered, and even then, you sort of knew saying so would be a bad idea, but you were too greedy to care, too close. "only you, baby," you moaned, "no one else, tys, only you." maybe it would have been harder to say if it hadn't been true.

"good girl," he cooed before teasing your clit again, shifted your hips forward to hit that angle that had you moaning out his name, squeezing his cock so tightly, your high vibrating through you.

as you clenched down on him, your nails scraping at his forearm, the other hand holding onto his like you'd sink into his mattress if you let go, he came, too, warm and familiar and loud, his raspy moan rattling around in your head as he collapsed on top of you.

you let out a blissful sigh at the full weight of him against your chest, hot and damp with sweat. you closed your eyes, let yourself breathe him in, the smell of him, all of him, commit it to memory like a favorite lullaby.

at some point, he rolled off of you, but he didn't let you go - wrapping his heavy arms all the way around you, hugging you to him, letting you hike a leg up around his, rest your cheek against his chest.

his breathing was smooth, rhythmic. it made your eyelids feel heavy.

"tyson," you said, your voice drowsy, worn-out.

he cut you off by pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that felt like an apology. "tell me tomorrow, okay, kid?" he asked, and there was a shake in his raspy voice, like he was a second away from begging. "please, just," he cleared his throat, and it killed you. "let me have tonight, alright?"

you nodded, figured you could, at the very least, give him that. you could offer yourself that final indulgence.

you fell asleep in the warmest bed you could remember, to the sound of a heartbeat you knew as intimately as your own.

the next day wasn't nearly as dreamlike.

your day of departure sort of felt like a day of reckoning. from the moment your eyes opened, meeting the sunlight streaming in front the windows, you felt as if you were carefully holding a match in the middle of a gasoline-drenched room, as if one wrong move might send everything up in flames.

it didn't help that you woke up with a tyson you didn't truly recognize.

the whole morning, as you got ready, when he gave you a change of clothes, when you made breakfast in his kitchen, he acted like a man possessed, but possessed by two different entities, perhaps two different demons. one of which was a doe-eyed child, teary and whiny and just so, so devastated. the other was a cold-shouldered old man, short and snarky and grudge-holding.

it seemed, the whole morning, that tyson was constantly being torn between begging you to stay and screaming at you to just get the fuck out.

"what're your plans for today?" you asked, carefully, as you set his plate down in front of him. you weren't much of a chef, but you knew how to make eggs, and it felt kind of like a peace offering.

"got practice in about an hour," he said, not quite looking you in the eye as he pushed his food around his plate with a fork. "but i have to take you back to my parents' place first."

you scrunched up your brow in confusion. "why?" you asked.

he cleared his throat. "got, uh, a couple last things for you to pack up," he said, and it was quiet, soft. "before you leave." he probably didn't mean it to come out harsh, and maybe it was just you looking for things that weren't there, but you heard it, anyways. the way leave came out almost like a curse.

regardless, soon you were in the passenger seat of his truck, again, maybe for the last time. you breathed in the leather smell, tried not to ruminate on how quiet tyson was being, how unlike himself.

this was not the beautifully same tyson you knew, but you couldn't just go and ask him what's wrong? because of course you both knew.

when you pulled into the driveway just next to your own, you exhaled shakily before unbuckling your seatbelt. even now, tyson opened your door for you, helped you hop down to the pavement.

his parents weren't home, and you were selfishly grateful for it. you didn't think you could face their warm smiles, their knowing eyes. their kindness despite knowing what you'd put their boy through.

he led you up to his old bedroom, a few paces ahead at all times, like walking beside you would make you both move backwards.

when he opened the door, you suddenly felt pressure prick at your waterline, felt heat pull at the edges of your face. you had to remind yourself that you had no right to cry.

tyson cleared his throat again, went to rummage around in his closet.

as he did, your eyes fixated on the beanbag by the window, where you'd had your first kiss with him. you blinked away the thought that you'd already had your last. you missed when time felt infinite.

"right, well, here you go." tyson's voice pulled you from the hazy memory. when you turned to face him, he was handing a box to you in outstretched arms.

"thank you," you said, gently, as you took it from him, opened the top, "what's in here?"

you moved the contents around with your fingers, almost laughing at how random most of it seemed - notes from your speech and debate tournaments, a few of your tennis visors, your sparkly talent show outfit.

"just the stuff you left here," he said, obviously trying so hard to appear unfazed. "the stuff you're leaving."

his words cut you so deeply you couldn't even look at him. tears were so close to flowing it felt like your eyelids were blistering. look around at the stuff you're leaving, he said without words, look at the me you're leaving.

"what's this?" you asked, willing any shake from your voice, holding up a lump of fabric.

"few of my sweatshirts," he said, shifting back and forth on his feet. "know you have enough clothes, and stuff, but i want you to have 'em."

you nodded, could barely muster a thank you.

"and this?" you asked, confused when you held up a small photo book. when you opened it, you found polaroids of the two of you, all the way back to middle school. as you flipped through, there also appeared to be pictures from your social media profiles in there, too, like he'd printed them out.

something rumbled in his voice. "just some pictures," he said, "i kept all my favorites."

you blinked, registering what constituted his favorites - mostly you, mid-laugh, or with a wide smile, or with him. just you. you were his favorite.

you felt a tear finally fall, hang at your cheek as you looked up at him, found his face positively wrecked, his jaw tense, eyes almost scared, gaze simmering. he looked like a child. you had a feeling you looked in a similar way. you had been kids, together, after all. you were kids, a bit, even now.

and you wanted to tell him that he was your favorite, too, but you didn't recognize the voice that escaped your own mouth. "tys," you began, for what felt like the millionth time. "i'm sorry, baby, i am-"

the sound that he let out was something like a tearless choked sob, somehow even worse than when he'd dropped you off at the airport for college. you'll come back, kid? he'd asked you then.

what could you even say, now, when the answer was no?

"i just don't understand," he said, with a waver that could have brought you to your knees. "i just don't understand why you won't give us a chance." when he looked at you, you were almost shocked you didn't melt into the ground. "why won't you give me a chance, kid?"

you fumbled for words, for some semblance of reason. "because it doesn't make sense, tyson!" you said, probably much louder than you meant to. your throat was tight, your chest on fire. "we don't make sense!" you were in such different places, both in location and life.

he made a gesture, incredulous. "what are you talking about?" he said, "we are the only thing that makes sense!" this was the only time you could really remember him raising his voice at you.

you almost growled. "we're not in high school anymore!" you snapped. "we have no idea what it's like to be together, like this. we're different!"

he shook his head, stepped closer to you, took the box from you, set it on the ground, then cupped your face in his rough hands. "we're still us, kid," he said, pleading, "we'll always be us."

you wanted to believe him, but you couldn't. not yet. you looked away from his face, closed your eyes as he wiped the hot tears from your cheeks. "i'm not sure, tys," you breathed, like a secret.

there was a pause. the two of you, in some limbo, maybe purgatory. is that not what all childhood bedrooms are?

"not good enough," he said, eventually, then stepped away from you. there was a certain lightness to his voice that hadn't been there, before.

"what?" you asked, confused.

he tilted his head, wore his honesty like a crown, maybe some delicate tiara. "i'm not sure," he parroted, "your excuse. it's not good enough."

"c'mon, tys," you pleaded, huffing, "you have to see that we won't work."

"i don't," he said, plain and simple, "you can give me a better excuse after my practice."

you scoffed, felt the tears on your face still, practically harden. how you wished he would believe you. how relieved you were that he didn't.

how many times was he going to put this conversation off? just one more night, one more minute, one more second.

"eventually, we're gonna have to say goodbye," you said, and it was low, rough.

"maybe," he said, on his way out. "but not right now. i'll see you after practice."

and so he left you standing in his old bedroom, a box of memories at your feet, feeling even more confused and uncertain than when you'd arrived.

after finally shaking yourself from your daze, picking up the box, heading for the door, you turned around a final time, let your gaze drip down from the ceiling to the floor.

you'd become yourself in this room, on that beanbag, by that window. you'd become more than a beautiful girl, here. you'd become someone special.

when you shut the door behind you, it felt like half of your heart sprouted wings and flew away.

you walked over to your parents' place, next door, began to load all your stuff into the trunk of your car. you realized you hadn't even looked at your phone all morning, that work hadn't even crossed your mind.

there was a part of you that needed to talk to someone, that needed someone to understand, but you didn't know who, if not tyson.

that was how you found yourself calling up the public library as you made trips from your bedroom to your driveway.

"yeah?"

you scrunched up your face. "that's how you answer the work phone?" you asked. you could almost hear the eye roll on the other end.

"no one ever calls this number," dylan's voice said, and you were glad he recognized your voice "why are you calling?"

you sighed. why were you calling?

"is it because you realized you're not leaving?" he asked, in that matter-of-fact tone, alight with vocal fry.

"what?" you asked.

"are you calling because you realized it'd be real stupid of you to leave?" he said.

"uh, no," you said, "well, maybe. i'm calling because i'm confused."

he gave a groan. "you know, i'm actually pretty busy," he said. "i was reading the complete history of the printing press, and mia is here-"

your eyes might have bulged out of your head. "mia is there? with you?"

you could sense dylan's frustration at having to repeat himself. "yes."

"oh my god, why didn't you tell me to shut up and leave you alone? mia is there! that's important!"

there was a pause. "yes," he agreed, finally, "but this is important, too."

and there was something about him saying this to you that made you realize just how correct he was. this was important, and not just because of tyson.

"hold on," dylan continued, "mia wants to talk to you."

you heard the sound of the corded phone being passed between hands.

"hello?" came mia's cheery voice.

"hi, mia," you answered. "how are you?"

mia let out something like a giggle. "oh, i'm good, babe, i'm good," she said. "i thought i could be a better sounding board than mr. brick wall over here."

you laughed, leaned against the side of your car. "he was doing okay," you tried.

"tell me what's confusing you," mia asked, and you sighed.

"i've just been so intent on leaving, for so long," you said, "like, i've never felt like this place was my home, and tyson was really the only reason i ever came back."

mia made a humming sound in understanding.

"and we're older now, too old for whatever weird friends with benefits thing we were doing before. and his team is here, and i'm in california-" you cut yourself off, blinked.

"but," mia prompted,

you bit your lip. "but," you began, "i can't help feeling like if i leave, i'm going to regret it forever." your exhale was shaky. "i don't think i'll like who i am if i leave him behind."

the confession seemed to rise into the air and dissolve in front of your eyes.

mia seemed to grasp the gravity of it, too. "it's your life, your decision," she said, gentle as anything, "but it sounds to me like the reasons why you shouldn't don't even come close to the reasons why you should."

you rested your head against the cool metal of your car, closed your eyes.

"you can work from anywhere," she said, "but there are some things that you just can't get anywhere else."

there was a pause as you took in her words.

"and i'm not just saying that because i like having you around," mia added, in a way that made you able to picture her smile. there was a mumble on her end. "and dylan says he wants you to come to his jeopardy taping."

you laughed, suddenly feeling a sense of clarity. because you wanted to get to know mia, even more, wanted to have her as a friend. you wanted to be around to cheer dylan on when he went on his show. you wanted to be in the stands for the baseball games, to celebrate after at the kid's line. you wanted sammy to keep calling you hollywood, to be the person jack accidentally hit with his ice bucket, to be on the receiving end of jj's bartending charm.

and, more than anything, you wanted to be the person tyson embraced in a sweaty hug after his big wins and tough losses. you wanted to make him eggs in the morning and laugh in his truck until your ribs were sore and brush your teeth next to him at night.

you wanted to give him a chance. you didn't know what the two of you would look like, together, at this point in your lives, if you genuinely gave it a shot.

but, you discovered, you really, really wanted to find out.

for so long, you had been mourning the fact that you'd outgrown this place. how had it never occurred to you that you could simply make more space?

so, an hour or so later, instead of merging onto the western-bound highway, you found yourself taking a left into the parking lot of the baseball team's practice field, about ten minutes before practice was set to end.

you approached the back fence, draping your arms over it, searching for tyson's telltale figure.

"he's over there."

you breathed deeply, stilling your alarmed heart, turned to face jack. "oh, hi, jack," you said.

"hi." he picked at a bent wire in the fence.

"what're you doing out here?" you asked, looking around. once again, he was oddly far away from everyone else.

he shrugged, looked down. "don't know," he mumbled. "just in the outfield."

"right," you said, blinking at him, at how out of practice he seemed to be with regard to talking with others. you looked forward to helping him get more comfortable around you, in the future. "where did you say tyson was?"

jack pointed to where a couple of guys stood, off to the side, putting practice equipment away.

you sucked on your teeth. "d'you think you could get him over here, for me, please?" you asked.

jack didn't say yes, didn't even nod, just whistled through his teeth way louder than you thought was possible. impressed, you thanked him as tyson approached.

"sure," jack said, stiff, while he walked to join jj and sammy, several paces behind.

you couldn't really read tyson's face as he approached you, slowly, as if trying to draw the whole ordeal out. we're going to have to say goodbye, you'd said before. not if i have anything to say about it, his stride seemed to be arguing.

"kid?" he asked, adjusting his cap on his head. "what're you doing here?"

you bit your lip, gave him a look through tired eyes. tired of thinking, of grieving, of assuming the worst.

he settling in front of you, leaning towards you over the fence. "got another excuse for me, do you?"

even with his words, you could tell that he knew you weren't here to say goodbye. it was all over his face, it was burning in his eyes, it was in the palm of his hand. it was all over you, too, in the shortness of your breath, the way your lips were slightly parted, the desperateness of your lean.

whatever you were here for, it wasn't to say goodbye, which gave both of you confidence.

and you did have another excuse, sort of. but you didn't want to pain him any more than you already had. so you just reached a hand out, let him rest his rough jaw in your warm palm. you breathed out. "i'm scared, tys," you said, because it was true. the prospect of trying this out, for real, it made you scared like a kid of the dark.

his exhale was something religious. "'m scared, too, kid," he admitted, making your eyes flicker up to meet his. "trust me, i am."

you sighed, searched his eyes for something undeniable, found it there in spades.

tyson extended a pinkie to you. "but not scared enough?" he asked, waiting, his eyes sparkling.

there was a pause during which a million possibilities flashed across your eyes. what would things have been like if you hadn't gone to school so far away? what if he'd gotten a scholarship somewhere else? what if you weren't beautiful? what if he'd gotten injured? what if you hadn't lived in that house? what if he'd never moved here?

a million possibilities that didn't matter, in this moment, because this was the only true thing.

"not scared enough," you agreed, finally, little more than a whisper, locking your pinkie with his in promise.

in a moment, he lifted you by the waist over the fence, not letting go of you for even a second before his lips crashed against yours in a kiss that felt like chalk on driveway pavement and secrets whispered at night. like sharing chocolate milk at lunch and dirty shirleys at dinner. like sunshine and morning dewdrops and summertime rain.

his cap knocked against your forehead, making you smile as he took it off in an instant, held it at the small of your back.

even now, you were still the shy girl looking out of her bedroom window at the driveway below. he was still the new kid next-door, smiling up at you through cardboard boxes and crazy curls.

you were different now, but you were still the same.

"does this mean she's staying?" came sammy's too-loud voice, making you pull away from each other, just a bit.

"she's staying," you answered, brushing tyson's curls from his face. the smile your words left in their wake was something of dreams.

"alright!" jj said, giving an enthusiastic fist pump.

"who's staying?" jack asked, genuinely confused.

"welcome home, hollywood," sammy declared, in that deep drawl.

and when you looked up at tyson, found a living room in his eyes, a fireplace, an armchair, a couch by the tv, a blanket worn with use, you realized that's exactly what this felt like, what he felt like.

being welcomed back home.

fin.

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