˙⋆✮ summary: you finally tell them you’re ready for a baby during sex
˙⋆✮ warnings: g!p characters, nsfw content, mdni, obviously breeding kink, a bit of mean shauna, humiliation if you squint, praise, also not so much breeding kink with nat, very much not proofread bc i just wrote these on the spot
۶ৎ lottie matthews
lottie has got to be the most thrilled of them all
you probably haven’t even gotten undressed when you tell her. you’re making out, being handsy all over one another when you pull back and whisper the words that makes her head immediately short-circuit.
“i want you to get me pregnant.” you breathe heavily against her lips, not even realizing what you’re saying.
lottie would look at you with wide eyes from being both stunned and incredibly turned on. out of all the yellowjackets, this girl absolutely has the biggest breeding kink. she wants to show the claim she has of you. she’s daydreamed about cumming inside of you so many times, even when you two are fucking and she needs a bit of a push to finish quicker.
so if she wasn’t hard yet, she most definitely is after you whisper those words. to the point it’s almost painful. and when your hand finally meets her cock, she’s so reactive it’s not even funny.
she probably clumsily reaches for the condoms in her side table drawer but is stopped by your hand grabbing her arm. she’d look at you bashfully, mumbling a ‘right’ before getting back to business.
and when she’s finally inside you, feeling you raw for the first time? she almost cums on the spot. the way you swallow her whole, and how warm and tight you are makes her feel like you were made just for her. that only reminds her further that soon enough you’ll be carrying her baby, marking you as hers in a completely new for the world to see.
with every thrust she’d whisper how she’s going to take care of everything. she’ll get a job (even though she’s rich), she’ll stop partying, convert the frat house to a perfect nursery, buy all the necessities, etc.
that night you go for many many rounds. more than either of you have ever done because lottie wants to stuff you full of her load so it would make your chances “better” when in reality just the scene of seeing her cum drip out of you is something she never wants to leave her head.
۶ৎ jackie taylor
jackie is definitely the sappy type.
when you tell her, she stops mid-thrust and just looks at you with a nervous smile and excited eyes. jackie wants to make sure you’re sure, so she spends a minute or two asking if this is really what you want.
after about the third time you tell her yes, she pulls your body into hers, hugging you close as she returns to her steady movements. you and jackie are usually the ones to pull out and get the pill the next morning, so she’s always bare inside of you.
your legs are wrapped around her waist as she moves her head down to be face-to-face with you. she spends the whole time with her lips connected to yours, whispering about how great of a mom you’re going to be over your whimpers and moans.
jackie is picturing the future with every kiss you share—you pregnant with her baby, running around on the beach with your little ones, how much they’d look like a perfect mix of the two of you, and everything that comes after.
at the end of the day, jackie is still ‘fratboy jackie’ so when you tell her you’re close, a cocky smirk definitely makes its way across her face. the way you clench around her so tight makes her let go at that moment.
“mmm, you’re gonna take it all, right, honey? you’re gonna look so pretty with my baby inside of you.” jackie rasps, hips stuttering as her orgasm washes over her.
afterwards she will shower your face in kisses and immediately get all tender and sweet. she probably also thanks you because she’s been wanting this secretly for so long.
۶ৎ shauna shipman
now shauna…she’s been pestering you to let her cum inside of you for forever.
you’re not sure if it’s how turned on you are or the amount of baby videos you’ve been seeing recently, but you finally cave. little do you know shauna actually stole your phone one night while you were sleeping and began liking videos to mess with your algorithm.
now shauna doesn’t thank you, she gives you her signature grin while saying something extremely smug. it would turn you off if it was anyone else, but it’s shauna and you love just how she is.
much like lottie, she wants to get you pregnant to have a claim on you, but her intentions are a bit more prominent than lottie’s. of course she’ll also love to be parents, but what drives her is marking what’s hers, and giving you something no one else ever could.
she is 100% rough that night. in her mind, after this you may be pregnant and she doesn’t want to hurt you or the baby so she wants your last night to end with a hoorah. her pace is quick, hard, and fast. she wants you to feel this night for the next week.
when she hits a specific spot, you beg for her to keep going and let you cum, but she just forcefully grabs your jaw to make you look at her and says that she’s not here to make you feel good because your orgasm doesn’t matter, only hers.
you end up panting and begging ‘please’ constantly to the point that shauna either shoves her fingers in your mouth or covers it with her hand.
“you want to cum? aw, that’s too bad.” shauna mocks, laughing at the tears running down your face.
and when her load starts to drip out of you, she plunges her fingers into you, shoving them deep into you so you don’t waste any of her.
۶ৎ natalie scatorccio
unlike any of the others, nat is scared
obviously she didn’t have the best upbringing as a kid or even teenager, and she has spent her whole adulthood being careful so she doesn’t get anyone pregnant, so she freezes when you tell her.
it may be a mood killer because the air that was once filled with tension and heat is now gone, but you’ll do anything to make sure nat is okay. you have to spend a few minutes reassuring her and reminding her you don’t have to anything she doesn’t want to, but after telling her how great of a parent she’d be and you’d both go through the journey together, she relaxes.
you probably jokingly tell her that you’ll be the first person she ever has sex with raw, and that sure as hell gets her back in the mood right away.
you were most likely on her lap when you were consoling her, so she wraps an arm around you and flips you both over. her dimples are so striking when she’s looking at you, now that her head is filled with so many pleasant images of your future. she’s looking at you like you’re her whole world.
she’s very much on the more “making love” side of sex. probably more as a beginning of her more gentle side.
the position i picture is either nat sitting on her legs while your hips are pushed into hers so she can see your whole body and facial expressions, or face-to-face with her hand intertwined with yours by your head.
nat actually doesn’t last long considering this her first time ever being bare in someone, and it’s you at that. every clench of your walls around her, and every moan from your mouth just pushes her closer and closer to the edge.
praise praise praise!!
“you’re so beautiful. i can just look at you like this all night.” nat pants, her thrusts becoming irregular at the tightness forming in her.
and by the end of the night, she swears off all drugs and drinking. she even ends up texting the groupchat with all the girls telling them herself.
rich jackie who’s “straight” and dates jeff. meets reader at the country club her parents go to (reader works there). they end up hooking up for the first time after jackie makes a move and afterwards she freaks out because she comes really hard (isn’t used to it) and thinks she’s having a panic attack or something (heart racing, ears muffled, shaky knees…). reader just laughs and tells her that’s supposed to happen
» jackie taylor x fem!reader.
— warnings: inexperienced!jackie. nsfw content. mdni. implied cheating. semi-public sex. vaginal fingering (jackie!receiving). might still edit the layout later, but i just wanted to get this done, my bad guys.
you’re gonna lose your job, at the very least, which is a shame, because it’s actually a pretty nice job. it pays well, too, as much as you dread spending every summer catering to the richest, most entitled people in wiskayok. at least the tips can be generous and, entitlement aside, people treated you like shit back when you were making minimum wage at the diner on main, so....it’s all irrelevant, anyway. or at least it could be, if somebody caught you like this: hidden away in the shadows behind one of the outbuildings, well away from the clubhouse, and knuckle deep inside jackie taylor.
you know that her father’s financial contributions practically keep the place running and that a decent portion of your paycheck probably comes straight from his pockets, thanks to mr taylor’s obsession with fucking golf, of all things. you also know that jackie taylor (that man’s daughter) is tight around your fingers, the walls of her cunt squeezing them in obscene pulses as she clings to your back for dear life, quiet ‘ah ah ah’ sounds reaching your ears despite her seemingly best efforts to hold them in. to be fair, you don’t have the slightest clue how any of this happened: one moment, you’d been serving cool drinks in the clubhouse, the next jackie, whom you have known for years, both from your high school days and the many afternoons she spent tagging along whenever mr taylor showed up at the club, had grabbed your wrist and pulled you away from your beloved air-conditioning (yet another reason you find your work here bearable, thank you very much), out into the sweltering summer afternoon.
now, you’ve got two of your fingers stuffing her full, already pruney from just how wet she is, arousal dripping out around the digits, and staining them from the knuckle to the tips. you hadn’t taken jackie fucking taylor for the type of girl to get off on this. then again, you hadn’t taken jackie for the type of girl to let another girl fuck her in public places, either, least of all one where her family has such a big reputation. given that you are in no position to complain, being exactly where you want to be, you only curl your fingers again, drum them against that spot right at the front wall of her cunt that has jackie keening.
“o-oh fuck-” she gasps, her normally raspy voice all high-pitched, and rolls her hip into your hand. the fabric of jackie’s skirt is bunched up, its front tugged into the waistband, her lacy panties pooled between her ankles. “oh fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop!” the whole length of her cunt twitches against the heel of your hand, lined up with her clit so that, whenever jackie grinds forward (which, for the record, she’s doing a whole lot, rocking against your fingers like her life depends on it), it bumps against your palm and makes her breath hitch.
what would happen to you if somebody caught you here, like this, is a distant worry at the very back of your mind. it’s hard to focus on that, hard to be rational, really, when you can fucking smell jackie’s arousal: you can smell the scent of her pussy, with how close you are, can hear it, too, squelching each time your fingers sink into her heat. it’s the scent, specifically, though, that has you fighting the urge to sink down to your knees and simply bury your face between her thighs as well. your knuckles bulge against her entrance, having to push through the initial resistance of that tightness over and over again, whenever you bottom out. but jackie hasn’t told you to stop (matter of fact, she’s repeatedly telling you to keep going), and so you continue to dig into her g-spot, listening to the whimpers that burst from jackie’s lips in response.
spreading herself open for you, she lifts one leg off the ground and wraps it around your waist, tugs you in at the same time as her head tips against the wall behind her. “oh god...” jackie pants, cunt squeezing your fingers again. around your hand, where you’re thrusting into her, jackie’s tighs tremble, wanting to stay open but clearly struggling to do so. you don’t dare speak, afraid to pull her back into the reality of what is, without a doubt, the strangest thing that has ever happened to you, and instead keep curling your fingers. jackie’s back arches off the wall, and she pushes her hips downward, clit pulsing hard, all while more wetness drips out into your palm, making her toned legs shiny under the hot summer sun.
one of her hands runs up your back, grabbing the fabric of your shirt in her fist before eventually landing in your hair, where jackie buries her fingers deep in those strands. when she then tugs, you can’t help but hiss, a sharp pain shooting through your scalp, and you would probably care a whole lot more if this weren’t the moment jackie starts going rigid. she whines your name, as quietly as she can given the situation, her eyes suddenly wide open and searching your face. “oh that’s-” jackie’s voice has gone from high pitched to outright squeaky. “k-keep doing that, that feels- oh!” that tone leaves you no other choice but to obey, pressing the pad of your thumb against her engorged clit for a little bit of extra stimulation, all while jackie’s pleasure reaches a peak that, at least judging by the look on her face, seems very unexpected.
you can both see and feel it the second she cums: her walls convulse around your fingers, and her cunt gushes once as the climax washes over her. with your eyes on jackie, you watch it play out on her face, and, surprisingly, it isn’t just enjoyment that you see there: she’s gone entirely tense, except for the occasional throbs between her thighs & the shudders running through her body, mouth hanging open to pant through the pleasure. “what- fuck- i didn’t…” jackie heaves for breath, her eyes darting around wildly as she tries and, considerably, fails to get herself back under control after what, by the way the walls of her pussy had clamped around you, had been a mindblowing orgasm. “i didn’t-“
“woah, hey,” sensing that she’s on the brink of losing it, you put the hand that isn’t stained in her cum on her shoulder. “are you…okay?”
“i don’t-” jackie bites her lip. “i don’t know what- my knees-” she glances down at herself, to where her knees are, in fact, still wobbling, barely holding her body upright without the support of the wall behind her. “i think i’m having, like, a- a panic attack or something.”
“a panic attack?” now, to give her some credit, you’ve never heard that after sex.
“yeah,” jackie nods decisively, promptly pulling her panties back up into place with her chin held surprisingly high for somebody supposedly having a panic attack. “a panic attack.”
“jackie, i really don’t think-”
“well, i do!” she snaps, “my heart is- my heart! jesus, it’s-”
it dawns on you, then, why a panic attack is the conclusion jackie has jumped to, here, rather than understanding her body’s reaction for what it actually is. “have you never had an orgasm before?”
“wha-” caught off guard, jackie’s eyes go wide for another split second before she gets herself back under control and huffs: “yes i have? of course i have!”
“right…”
“i have!” she insists, smoothing down her skirt as well, mentally already back in the clubhouse and on what she’ll be telling her father for suddenly disappearing. “how do i look?”
“not like you’re having a panic attack.”
“this isn’t funny!” jackie snaps again. she’s started fiddling with her hair, now, in an attempt to look normal, which comes much too late. “this wasn’t my first….orgasm.” despite noticing how she stumbles over that word, you let her continue. “so, this was, uhm, nice, but i should probably go back inside now.”
“okay,” you nod, trying very hard to keep the grin off your face. it’s hard, with jackie looking about two seconds away from stopping her foot to the ground like a stubborn child. “jackie that’s- you know that’s normal, right?”
“yes,” she nods again, then she spins on her heel and starts marching toward the clubhouse, still calling out over her shoulder: “i’m not fucking stupid!”
I'm not sure if you have already done this if not can you do the yellowjackets kinks?
~ Yellowjackets Kinks ~
Words: 2241
Note: here it is! I know some of my opinions are unpopular so read at your own risk 😬thanks anon for sending in a req! I love doing these! I had way too much fun writing this one!
Jackie:
Obvi, this girl likes being a pillow princess
Just lay her back and spend hours between her legs
Loves hair play - pull her hair (not too much, she’s paid a lot for it to look good), twirl the ends as you kiss her, hold it in a ponytail to keep it out of her face when she eats you out
Body worship - she loves being taken care of
Definitely has a kink for you pampering her! Wash her in the bath, take your time drying her off, rub lotion and oils on her naked body, brush her hair and scratch her scalp, rub her back and shoulders
On that note - massage kink! Just having your hands on her does devilish things to her
She’s a shower sex girlie too (and bath sex girlie)
While she’s a pillow princess most of the time, she will absolutely take control sometimes if you’re needing it (the captain in her can’t help but take over). Like if you’re getting too down on yourself or working yourself ragged, she’s pulling you to bed and straddling your waist. She won’t let you go until you’re promising to take better care of yourself.
Also likes to take control sometimes because she feels so spoiled by your treatment that she wants to give back. She likes to be spoiled, but she loves to spoil back.
Owns a dildo which she loves to use on you (it’s pink)
She wants to buy a strap for it, but she gets really nervous to walk into sex shops
Shauna:
She tries really hard to be a top, but she’s a sub at the end of the day
Need to be held and told that she’s wanted
Spooning sex - just please hold her
She gets off to your scent, whether it’s your natural scent or signature perfume. Her nose is constantly in your neck, breathing deeply and saving it for later
Shauna owns a strap, but it’s for you, not for her. She likes being the one fucked, with you on top looking down at her. Bonus points if you’re whispering sweet words to her as you thrust the toy in and out at a desperate pace
Likes quickies, surprisingly. Grab her when she walks in the door and hold her against the wall, sit her on the washing machine while it’s on, pull her into the shower with you. She’ll have you anywhere
Shauna does get dominant sometimes, mostly when she’s super angry (which can be a lot). If one of the girls is pissing her off, she’s stomping back to you and taking all of her anger out in the bedroom.
Orgasm denial when she’s in charge. Wants you to beg to show her that she’s in control.
Talking down to you gets her off too. “You can’t even think anymore can you? Too stupid riding on my hand.” “You’re not good for anything but being my bitch.” “You’re not going anywhere. Not like you’d be useful anywhere else. This is the only place you should be.”
Choking kink - this one works both ways. She likes giving and receiving (we all saw that episode with Melissa. Girl was upset she didn’t keep going.)
We all know this already, but I’ll reiterate - knife kink! This is definitely more for post-crash / pre-rescue Shauna because I just can’t see her doing this when she’s back in civilization but out there in the woods, that knife doesn’t leave her side
She smiles when she fucks you with the handle
Makes the tiniest of cuts that lets out a single drop of blood and licks it up
Lottie:
We all know this one too but - body worship. Listen, Lottie fucks like she worships and we all know this. It’s canon at this point.
This girl literally prays into your skin, thanking whatever god she believes in that they let her breathe the same air as you
She really does see you as her goddess, the only one she lives for
She’ll give anything to make you feel as amazing as possible. She wants *you* to see god, and that’s her goal everytime she fucks you
Breast worship while we’re at it - loves fondling your tits and leaving open-mouthed kisses there. She could spend hours with her tongue on your tits, to be honest, and probably has.
Lottie lives to spoil you. Spending so much of her parents money on sex toys to make you feel good (hide the receipts).
Loves to make out. Just put your tongue in her mouth and she’s happy
Eats pussy like it’s her job! Begs *you* to let her eat it, like you’ll literally be watching Netflix on the couch with her, and then she just scoots down, puts her head under the blanket and starts eating you out without another word
On the note of spoiling you, get ready for her to buy you SO MUCH expensive lingerie
She makes you model them for her, and she says that she’ll just buy the best one, but she buys all of them because they *all* are the best on you
Food sex - if there’s whipped cream in the fridge, she’s licking it off of your body, just so you know!
Taissa:
Listen, I know people may fight me about this, but I think Tai’s a dominant top, I just do
She has moments where I think she bottoms, but… I think for the most part, she’s a top
So many times where she’ll just grab you and go down on you in the bathroom of a bar or a restaurant
Public sex for sureeee - Tai is letting the entire world know that you’re hers. She doesn’t care if people hear. Let them! It’s good entertainment
And sometimes you think you two have more public sex than private sex
Taissa pulling you away from your friends at a party to eat you out in the bathroom. Taissa sneaking you into the backseat of her car at her college’s football game - the damn car rocks back and forth. Taissa will literally pull a Van and finger you against a tree in the woods if that’s what she’s feeling.
Taissa’s just a very “I’m ready now. I’m not waiting” type of lover
Loves using those panty vibrators on you with the remote stuffed in her pocket
You’re squirming in your seat, ordering entrees for dinner and Tai’s just smirking.
“She’ll have the chicken stir fry,” she finishes for you when you hide a moan behind a cough.
Definitely a cuddler though. Loves the warmth and safety of your body against hers.
Can be both big spoon and little spoon - but honestly prefers little spoon so she can feel your breath on her neck and your fingers tracing circles in her hips
Van:
I think Van definitely fits into the role of a service top - she’s just so intensely in love with you and all she cares about is making you feel worshiped. Will do whatever you tell her to do, but has her own fantasies too
Handsy for sure. Van’s fingers are always roaming over you, even out in public.
Not afraid of a little PDA. Van will happily hold your hand (and fuck you in the bathroom) if that’s what you’d like
Van’s not really rough in my opinion - I think deep down, Van just craves soft love and wants to give that
A vibrator girl - she only had one when she met you that was her trusty sidekick, and now she owns at least five that do all these different things
Van likes to tie you up - there I said it. She’s super sweet with it, making sure it doesn’t pinch or squeeze too much, but when you’re all tied up, she’s mouth-watering and staring, immensely proud of her work.
She watches YouTube videos to practice and begs to try out her new knots on you. Even buys the super expensive nice rope for you (and the satin ribbons because she’d feel awful if she saw any red marks on you after)
Van’s also a teaser, an edger, a denier, whatever you wanna call it. Van’s all of it. She likes to take her time, adores the sounds you make when you’re begging her to let you come. She can never take super long because your puppy dog eyes always get her first
Definitely has a little bit of a praise kink - loves being told that she's wanted and loved, that she’s doing good for you and you want her to stay
Travis:
My boy is a sub - you guys know me as the Sub!Travis truther and I will continue to spread the word
That boy is plagued by societal fragile masculinity problems, but deep down, he just wants to be loved and cared for
Loves a dominant partner, but not necessarily a mean one - one that takes care of him when he desperately needs it
Travis loves a gag. Whether it’s his belt, a real ball gag, or your panties stuffed in his mouth, he gets off on the fact that he’s completely under your control
We knew this was coming too. Travis gets pegged - sue me. He had no idea that it was even real when you first mentioned it. He’d been told it was a joke, so he never took it seriously. But he did watch a porn video about it once and he’d never come so hard
He got very addicted to it when you first did it to him. He was drooling, fisting the sheets hard enough to rip holes, thrusting his hips back into your strap.
Has an oral fixation. Needs his mouth on you at all times (which is why gagging is so nice / torturous to him). Constantly has his lips on yours or sucking your nipples into his mouth.
Definitely has a kink for sucking on your breasts (not in a weird mommy kink way, just because he’s obsessed with your tits and he needs something for his mouth to do)
Can do a little impact play - nothing too hard because he’s sensitive and will cry. You can spank him or choke him, just not enough to bruise
Cries during sex, and he’s a pretty crier too
Loud and whiny. Can not be quiet for the life of him (another great reason for the gag)
Clingy as hell too. Won’t let you go at all during sex. You wanna get up to grab a toy? He’s whining and pulling you back, lips attached to your neck.
Nat:
This girl is the definition of a switch
Has the meanest dom days and the most innocent sub days
She’s also into A LOT. She's experimented a lot, and what she’s learned is that she likes to have fun, and there’s so many ways to have fun during sex
Is a toy girl. Has so many - dildos, vibes, cuffs, you name it, she has it
An overstimulator. She’ll give you at least five orgasms before she’s done for the night
Loves a little temperature play. A little wax, some ice.
Will collar you if you’re into that (but not out in public - Nat likes private sex when it’s just you and her and nobody else to judge)
I think she likes to give more than receive to hold onto a sense of control, but I can also see her just laying back and telling you what to do
Nat likes to be choked. I don’t have any factual evidence for this. I’m just going off of vibes
Nat’s favorite sex act though is for sure tribbing. She’s gone the second she feels your clit touch hers
Likes being double penetrated. Put your strap in her and slowly ease another toy in (don’t forget the dirty talk - she likes it a little rougher)
As the last bullet point said, Nat likes it rough and dirty. So spit in her mouth, slap her pussy, call her a slut - she trusts you
An aftercare master. Knows exactly how to take perfect care of you after a rough session or an easy one
Misty:
We been knowing that Misty’s a lil freak
I think it’s basically canon at this point that she’s a voyeur, spying on Nat and Kevin in her motel room
She just likes to watch - whether it be you solo or with someone else. It gives her an excuse to truly see everything: how you move, every curve of your body, when your eyes open and close, what makes you tick. She’s taking notes of everything
If we’re talking about a younger Misty, that girl is shy and subby as all hell. Is clueless as to what she even likes. But adult Misty is dominant. That girl is dangerous and she knows it.
In either timeline though, Misty gets flustered easily. She’s so overcome with how gorgeous you are at times that she just freezes
I think adult Misty would be into some freaky freak shit like wax play, temperature play, sensory deprivation, electro stimulation, impact play. Yeah, she goes the full mile, I think.
Younger Misty is more subdued. More conservatively experimental.
Maybe some somnophilia? I can see her just watching as she always does and then she gets so overcome with the need to do something
Has to hype herself up to do anything though. She also doesn’t really talk, scared that she’ll mess something up or say too much of what she’s really thinking
How about… gp!jackie x reader x gp!shauna? You know like being passed around between them two?
high heel shoes make you six feet tall — jackie taylor x reader x shauna shipman headcanons
authors note: dream blunt rotation except im the blunt being passed around
warnings: NSFW, gp!jackie, gp!shauna, fem!reader, threesomes, mentions of pregnancy 🫣
song playing: the party & the after party by the weeknd
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── getting passed around in bed by jackieshauna oh my glob..
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── these two are already so possessive of each other, adding you to the mix = you now have two guard dogs behind you always
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── whether that means you’re in an established relationship with them or just a fuck buddy of theirs. at the end of the day, you are theirs
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── these two are so different in bed, but so equally possesive
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── they fuck you like its the most important thing in the world
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── on most nights, jackie is the first to fuck you. she’ll have you on top, whining and whimpering as your walls clench around her cock
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── and if you turn your head slightly, you’ll see shauna. sitting on the edge of the bed, or on a chair nearby, her own cock out as she jerks off to the sight
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── jackie who rarely cums in you. mainly because she prefers seeing her cum on you. pulling out to finish on your stomach
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── shauna who is next, fucking you in a mating press. her hands hold you down hard, and a sadistic smirk on her face as you cry out
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── jackie, who is touching you as shauna fucks you. hands caressing your jaw, soft kisses on your neck
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── shauna who will finish in you, shooting load after load until you cant take any more of it
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── at the end of the night you will still be covered in cum from the two of them :P
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── also thinking about eiffel towering between them
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── one of their cocks in your mouth, the other in your hole. you cry out and moan, gagging from each thrust making the cock hit the back of your throat
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── perverted jackieshauna who each take a video from their point of view 🤤
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── jackieshauna, who despite sharing you, do in fact get pissed off when you fuck one of them without the other
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── jackie probably asks you to come over one night, and will babble in your ear as shes deep inside you. “promise me you still want me?”
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── shauna who will be extra mean when she gives you a ride somewhere, stopping in an abandoned street. “you can’t live without my cock.”
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── jackieshauna who litter hickeys on your neck, lowkey a competition on who could give you a bigger hickey
ミ꒲ ☆ ꒱ ── jackieshauna who ends up getting you pregnant, both confused and arguing about who’s kid it is. that is until they ultimately decide to consider themselves your baby daddies (yes plural. that baby will have TWO fathers)
poly!yellowjackets x fem!reader
minors DNI, all characters are 18 y.o
TW: smut, gangbang
extra tags: porn with plot, praising, bodyworship, sharing is caring, fingering (r! receiving), oral (r! receiving), oral (r! giving), little bit of spanking
word count: 5.1k
not proofread
english is not writer's first language!
you've always been so nice and sweet to Yellowjackets, the one and only soccer team in your school, Wiskayok High. But you also were naive and innocent enough to constantly overlook the fact that every single girl on the team wanted your attention. And when, the last day before their nationals, they finally decided to make things clear between you and them.
When Coach Martinez first introduced you to the girls, they weren't too impressed. Average hair, average eyes, average height. Nothing special or anything to look at more than usual. You weren't even, roughly speaking, a full-fledged part of the team. At least that's what Taissa said. She was always like that - confident and sure of her opinions, even if they were somewhat offensive.
But you didn't mind, and even agreed. You were just an equipment manager, and you only became one because your mother and father were very close with Coach Martinez and asked him to find you a place out of old friendship. Of course, the coach made up a different story for everyone about how you came to be on the team - but every time you remembered the truth of your presence here, you wondered if you had the right to wear your signature yellow and blue bomber jacket. You felt ashamed, even though you didn't act like someone who got in because they got a pass. You were responsible, punctual, but you didn’t forget about empathy and responsiveness when communicating with girls. Over time, you began to be noticed by more than just Misty Quigley, who shared the same position with you.
Misty Quigley herself wasn’t too bad. Well, she was… weird. But you decided that everyone had their own cockroaches in their heads and she was just trying to make friends this way.
"You know, if we ever run out of food, I’ve always wondered what human flesh tastes like. I mean, they say it’s like pork, right? Maybe we should start taking notes just in case." Misty once said while you were cleaning up the cones after practice. You looked at her with wide eyes, full of confusion.
"Excuse me? Misty, this is a little weird…" You awkwardly continued to do your job, while Misty burned a hole in you with her gaze. Misty tilts her head slightly, her expression shifting from playful to earnest.
"Oh, come on! I was just joking… mostly. But think about it—survival is all about adapting, right? It’s just a thought experiment! Besides, we’ve got to keep our spirits up somehow. Want to talk about your favorite horror movie instead? I promise I won’t suggest cannibalism this time!”
But Misty didn’t always say such creepy things. She could talk about history, especially about Roman emperors, about her experience in first aid and medicine in general, about her interests, of which there were quite a few, but no one except you, apparently, wanted to listen to her. You didn’t understand the reasons and were patient with her. Misty immediately began to appreciate this - she did not throw away potential loved ones.
Then Natalie Scatorccio appeared. Natalie did not have much experience with love, including the manifestation of care towards her. You didn't know anything about her, except that she lived in a van and was an extremely good and promising soccer player. But the more Misty shared the good news about your "endless love and care", trying to brag that she had such a tasty morsel and not the rest of the team, Nat couldn't help but become interested in you. People who lack love often don't quite realize how much they subconsciously want to find it.
She caught you after practice once and started talking to you. Nat herself didn't understand why she wanted to come back to you more and more every day - was it your manner of speech or how brightly you smiled at her after silly stories? She wanted to blush under your gentle gaze, and her heart beat strangely when you waved at her after she made a good pass to the other team members.
But of course it wasn't always like that. The more attached she became to you, the more she focused on looking into your unexpectedly deep eyes, rather than at the ball.
"Natalie, don't you want to start playing properly? What are you constantly distracted by?" Lottie narrows her eyes when Natalie refuses to pass the ball to her and tries to dribble the ball to the goal herself, but hits the wall.
"Forget it, Lots. I'm just having a bad day." Natalie waved it off. It was odd that for someone having a bad day, she was smiling so stubbornly and persistently in the wrong direction. Lottie couldn't help but realize that she was looking at you. Perhaps you needed to have a heart-to-heart talk.
So, Charlotte Matthews quickly became next.
After practice, she caught you doing your job as you were supposed to, and called you out on it. She was annoyed, but more curious about your relationship with Natalie. You were blushing and apologetic, and it was hard to deny that you weren't to blame for Nat's deteriorating performance.
And then Lottie discovered that your shy face was extremely hard to get out of her head. Inadvertently, you began to talk after and before practice, Lottie sharing some details about upcoming parties at her house and inviting you. You, of course, refused. Your parents expected you to be decent, and Lottie didn't like rejection and didn't know what rejection was, being a rich girl. So she made it her goal to get you at least once. Or twice. So trying to get under your skin, subtly courting you, and trying to get through to your difficult parents was already routine. Including giving expensive gifts.
"Tai, have you seen the new hair clip in Y/N's hair? Those things cost a lot of money, I tell you, I saw it in the window of that expensive jewelry store." Vanessa was amazed at the new accessory you now had.
"I didn't really pay attention to it, to be honest. What do you… mean? Do you want one like that? I didn't think it was your style." Taissa chuckled, and Van rolled her eyes.
"Haha, very funny, but that's not what I mean… Hey, Lottie! Does Y/N have a rich mommy and daddy like yours?"
Lottie, passing by, chuckled, clearly filled with pride. "Not really. That was my gift. Y/N is very nice, you know. You shouldn't have doubted her, Taissa."
Then Taissa Turner and Vanessa Palmer appeared.
They were already in a relationship and were amazed to see how quickly you changed the team's attitude for the better. And yet, from the very beginning, you were a black sheep for Taissa. Van, however, did not treat you with great disdain. She preferred to give people a chance to prove themselves first, and only then draw her own conclusions. However, they quickly liked you. Taissa was surprised that you had previously attended law and jurisprudence classes, and these topics interested her greatly. Van was pleasantly pleased with your taste in films and comics.
You complemented their couple with something that they could not complement each other with on their own, after all, no relationship can simply be perfect. It was a matter of time before they both wanted your attention more than was possible. Van often invited you to her home to read or watch something, and Taissa loved to discuss social issues with you. You turned out to be more than either of them could have thought.
"Tai, I'm sorry, but I've already taken up Y/N's time for the evening with myself." Van smiled tenderly at Taissa.
Taissa raised an eyebrow in surprise, seemingly hoping for something. "Damn. How did you manage to come to an agreement with her faster than me? Maybe you'll take me with you?" she said with awkward hope. "Of course, I don't understand a damn thing about your conversations, but still…"
"No way, babe. You'll steal her attention again." Van shook her head.
"Why do I keep hearing everyone talking about Y/N from every corner of the room?" Jackie folded her arms in displeasure as she found herself next to the couple. "I understand that she's new and all that… but what's so unique about her? I swear, we won't get to nationals like this."
Jackie Taylor was annoyed by your popularity within the Yellowjackets. She could see the effect you had on the girls - they were going crazy trying to get a piece of you. She wasn't interested in you at all, but she had a feeling that if she didn't get a little bit closer, they would dethrone her and make you the team captain and even make you their mascot. She had to do something, and fast.
One day, Jackie stayed with you after practice, kindly offering to help you clean up the equipment. When you both walked into the warehouse, she almost pinned you against the wall, demanding answers to her questions.
"Y/N, I can see something's going on. I understand that you want to be friends with everyone, sure, but… we're trying really hard to get to nationals. And you're being way too… outgoing, you know? You need to stop. For the good of our team, as captain, I'm asking you to…"
"Your hair looks great today. Even after playing so hard." You blurted out, unable to contain your genuine respect. "Oh. Sorry. Keep going."
Jackie froze, her combative attitude seeming to completely falter. "You… you think so? Finally, someone sees how much I work on this hair, trying to get it just right every morning! I use powder and hairspray literally all the time, and no one has even bothered to compliment me… until you, of course."
Jackie took pity on you after that. Not when you were willing to spend hours shopping for clothes with her, stealing your clothes and trying on what she told you to try on, making you her model. No one had ever shown such steely restraint with Jackie Taylor, and every time she put on your makeup, it was so hard for her to resist the pounding of her heart and the strange desire to cover your lips with hers.
But there was a catch to being with Jackie. The amount of time you spent together didn't sit well with Shauna Shipman.
She was the only one who showed no interest in you at all. She didn't care about you, and that was surprising. She never, not once, approached you. You doubted she even knew your name, although considering Jackie told her everything, your name was the only thing she knew about you.
And the fact that you were a real suck-up. That's what she called you when she decided to have it out with you.
"What do you have with Jackie? Do you think I can't see how you're trying to pull the wool over her and everyone else's eyes?" Shauna narrows her eyes, looming over you. "What is it about you? Are you such a good suck-up?"
You felt hurt, but even more so, you felt a seething injustice. "I don't know what you're talking about, Shauna, I was just trying to be friends with everyone. It's not my fault they saw something in me."
Shauna snorted, unsure of what to do with you. "Well. Fine. Just stay away from Jackie, okay? And you'll be fine." Shauna had already turned away from you, about to leave. She adjusted her backpack, but a book fell out. You quickly picked it up.
"You dropped…" You looked at the cover, sighing in surprise. "Pride and Prejudice? That's my favorite book!" You exclaimed, surprising Shauna. She rolled her eyes, simply taking it from you, pretending not to care, but in reality, she was even a little impressed. You were left standing in the hallway, not quite sure what you did wrong.
And then you were surprised when Shauna came to you wanting to discuss the book, as if nothing had happened. Perhaps she was so eager to discuss her interests with someone that she decided to choose the worst option of all - you (Jackie, as expected, did not like reading books at all). You liked to read in your spare time, and Shauna was pleased that you had read a lot of female writers from the 18th and 19th centuries. She sometimes shared her thoughts on them with you, but the main thing was that at one point she made you a playlist of songs named after you. You were flattered and too busy enjoying the gift to notice how much Shauna blushed as she tried to hold your hand.
You didn't even know it would be like this. It seemed like almost all the girls on the team were literally tearing you apart. You'd never received so many gifts, compliments, and, it seemed, hints? Of course, you were pleased. You were a girl, after all. And you suddenly had little free time. Sometimes you spent time with two or even three girls at once a day. Of course, sometimes this led to conflicts between them, but they never dragged you into it. You were untouchable.
But you didn't expect that they would all decide to fix it in one day.
Despite everything, training for Nationals continued. Luckily, the Yellow Jackets team still managed to get their game together and win the filtration game that determined their participation in the competition. Everyone, of course, was incredibly happy. As were you for your favorite team.
There was just one thing. Your parents forbade you to fly with them. You begged as much as you could, but they were adamant. They wanted you to stay home and use your free time from your team to good use, studying and preparing for college. You shed so many tears in front of them, almost begging, but nothing worked. Sometimes you wanted to curse your parents.
Tomorrow, everyone was supposed to fly to Nationals. You entered the locker room, terribly dejected. You were immediately noticed, and the girls were insanely worried. Lately, all of them had been very attentive to you.
"You don't look well, Y/N," Natalie said, her smile from earlier quickly fading.
"Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Maybe a stomach ache?" Misty jumped up to you as if your life depended on it.
"Get away from her, Misty. Y/N might need some space." Vanessa shook her head, and was just as concerned about you.
"I-it's okay…" you sniffed. "It's just… I couldn't convince them. I did everything I could, I begged as hard as I could, and they still refused me. You… you'll have to celebrate your victory at the nationals without me." your eyes sadly looked around at everyone. The shared sadness touched every girl present.
"Y/N… I'm so sorry." Lottie took your hands in hers, looking at you sadly, but Jackie quickly jumped up to her.
"How so? Do they not care at all that you want to fly with us?" she snorts, angry at your family. Being spoiled by her own parents, she did not understand this attitude, especially towards you.
"At least you will be here when we return." Taissa tried to find the positives, although she was disappointed too.
"It does not make much sense, she will not be able to share the joy of us taking the first place in the moment." Shauna said, shaking her head.
There was silence between all of you. You were so upset that you didn't even notice how all the girls were looking at each other meaningfully and nodding silently. Suddenly Lottie ran a gentle hand down your cheek, took your chin.
"Don't be so upset, Y/N," Lottie said softly, looking soothingly into your eyes. "You know… in all this time that you've been part of our team, we've grown attached to you. You've always been so kind to us. I think we can come to an agreement and find a way to thank you properly."
You were very embarrassed, and suddenly you felt a little awkward. "I was just being myself, you don't have to do anything for me." You, of course, felt pleased.
But you were surprised when you felt hands behind you, and out of the corner of your eye you could see blonde strands of hair, and then you heard the familiar voice of Nat, who decided to come up to you from behind.
"Don't be such a shy princess. Why don't you let us comfort you?" she almost purrs in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. It felt… oddly pleasant, like a wave of excitement had washed over you.
"I, um… I don't know… how are you going to do that?" you ask. You can already see and feel Misty wrap her arms around your right hand, stroking it, looking at you in awe.
"You see, Y/N, you have some kind of influence over all of us." Lottie continues. Jackie glares at Matthews, apparently annoyed that Lottie is in charge. While she's busy burning a jealous hole in someone else's body, Shauna approaches you, her hands stroking your neck, and you shiver, vaguely aware of where this is all heading.
"We feel an irresistible… attraction to you. It's hard for us to share you between us. Haven't you noticed how hard we try to please you?" Lottie asks, genuinely concerned. "And you still wouldn't give in to any of us. We tried to figure out what you wanted, but we failed every time. So we thought you'd have to try each one before you figured out which one of us you wanted to be with."
Your brain was already running out, and now that Van's hand was stubbornly touching your thigh, and Taissa was holding your waist, whispering something in your ear, you completely stopped thinking. You were surrounded by a crowd of girls with whom you spent all your free time so happily, and they were trying to get you all the time. Was it all of them? Each of them wanted you to be their girlfriend? These thoughts left you shocked and you didn't even know how close or far from the truth it was. You, of course, dreamed about them. About each of them at least once, though about some more than others. But for you it was not serious, you did nothing! Did they really want it that much?
You yourself do not notice how you let out a quiet sigh when Shauna kisses your neck. She does it roughly, as if she is having difficulty containing the desire that is accumulating in her. Shauna is silent, examining, analyzing and suppressing in herself, and then explodes like a time bomb. And now she wants to explode at any moment.
Misty's hand undoes the button of your pants in irritation, and Van and Taissa pull them down. You are brought back to reality, and you feel panicked. You were definitely not prepared for being undressed.
"W-wait, there's no need to go anywhere-" you break off with a groan. Nat, still standing and supporting you from behind, bites your ear, licks it, makes your sensitive earlobe wet. You sigh at the newness of this strange, disorienting sensation.
"Don't worry, sweet thing. Everything is going to be just fine." Natalie purrs, and you can't tell if she's stoned or not. Your pants are thrown to the floor. And then your panties. You are naked for all the girls, and they are looking at you so mesmerized, like this is the best thing they've ever seen in their lives. Even Jackie and Lottie, standing behind you, are watching you in awe.
This time, Van is first. Her tongue touches your already wet cunt, and she circles it, tasting you. You moan, and Natalie tugs your hair a little, exposing more of your neck. Taissa gives you a couple of loud slaps on your ass, interested in seeing your reaction. You shudder and your hips jerk, because you like it. Misty's hand goes under your shirt and gropes your breasts, pulling your nipples almost painfully, while Shauna leaves wet marks on your collarbone from her mouth, wanting to leave marks on you that will definitely last until their collective return from Nationals.
You are so turned on, and you feel stimulation from all sides. Your hand wants to reach for Van's red head, to press it harder, but Nat, watching you like a hawk, pulls you back.
"Let her do it herself." She whispers in your ear. You nod frantically, it's best not to argue with them. A few more movements of Van on your clit, her skillful tongue, which had probably done the same with Taisa before, could easily bring you to orgasm. You moaned more actively, your chest moved a hundred times more intensely, and then she pulled away.
"She's ready, Lottie." Van said, wiping her mouth. It was hard for you to understand what was happening, and you just whined, saddened that you were not allowed to come. For a moment, everyone broke away from you. Everyone was listening to Lottie.
"We'll help you after you help us, Y/N," Lottie says with a smile that sounds like she's some kind of prophet. "We've been waiting so long to get your attention. We think we deserve to come first. But I promise you won't regret it."
You nodded at her, mesmerized, but you felt like this wasn't quite the Lottie you knew. She was so mysterious, and you couldn't tell what was on her mind.
"Get away from her, all of you." Lottie commanded. "And you, Y/N, sit on your knees, please. Put something down so it won't hurt her to sit on the floor."
Van and Nat dutifully laid out their own jackets so your knees wouldn't hurt from what you were about to do. It was a pleasant moment of care. You obediently settled down on your knees in front of Lottie. You were literally being eaten with their eyes, and you were ready for what was to happen.
Lottie was already reaching for her shorts, but Jackie spoke up. "Sorry, Lottie… but I'll be the first." She said, raising her chin high. Jackie's voice was filled with nervous confidence, and she tried to withstand Lottie's and the other girls' piercing gaze. "I'm the captain of our team, and I want to be the first one to do this. What made you think you could lead?"
Lottie was silent, and you couldn't even understand what she was thinking right now. Then she nodded, and her voice was cold. "Okay. Be the first. But don't ruin it too soon."
You didn't understand the meaning of the words, but Jackie frantically replaced Lottie, pulled down her shorts, and the taste of her cunt quickly imprinted on your tongue. You didn't know what Jackie really wanted to achieve by this - to let you fuck her first or she just felt depressed because of how Lottie quickly took control and everyone, even Shauna, was ready to obey her. In any case, you didn't mind. You devotedly licked her pussy and tried to watch Jackie's reaction, just to please her. In your fantasies, you tried many times to make Jackie as good as you could. In your mind, Jackie was not the type to give - she liked to receive more, and if she had to be on top in your fantasies, she was so gentle and timid, afraid to make an extra move, that it only excited you more.
But here she was — trying to have your whole mouth, like she had been fantasizing about it for so long that you were almost dizzy with the realization. Your drool and her juices were running down her thighs while she moaned, and the others were watching, some daring to stick their hands down their own shorts. A couple of minutes passed and Jackie came convulsively, sitting down on the bench. Now she wouldn’t object. She had no strength.
Shauna was next. She was never patient, not with what she liked - her hand grabbed your hair (no one protested, everyone decided she deserved it for scoring the final goal during the nationals qualifiers) and she pulled herself roughly-gently towards her vagina. Your eyes rolled back and you almost got lost in her thick dark pubic hair, but fuck, she was delicious and you were ready to continue as long as it took. You even forgot how to breathe sometimes - Shauna was a little rough, muttering something harshly under her breath and moaning, repeating your sweet name. She came quickly and took a step to the side, pulling up her shorts and retreating to the bathroom, apparently to rethink something.
Then there was Taissa… and Van. They were both allowed near you at the same time. You were dumbfounded, not knowing how to cope with taming two pussies at the same time, but you didn't even have time to wipe the saliva and cum from your mouth, as the red vagina was in your mouth. You had to change one pussy to the other every 15-20 seconds, trying to lick both like never before. You were forbidden to use your hands, but they both frantically encouraged you as best they could, while your tongue circled their clits, and the dirty noise filled the locker room, already filled with heat and languid sighs.
"You're holding up great, Y/N… Come on, help Van a little…" Taissa whispered, tearing you away from her pussy, because you stubbornly did not want to stop. However, upon hearing her order, you quickly set to work on Van, drawing a sigh of excitement from her, and ten seconds later, an orgasm. Taissa followed.
Then there was Nat. You licked your lips, ready to receive her. You were surprised that her pussy was shaved, maybe she was getting ready and wanted to please you? This thought caused a sweet warmth in you. And Nat's pussy tasted sweet too. You sucked on her clit, wanting to please her in a way that no guy had ever done. Natalie moaned surprisingly softly, and it excited you so much that there was almost no dry spot left in your panties. She let you use your hands, and you held her by the hips, because she was shaking while your wet tongue caressed her tender folds, and the hot air from her nose came straight to her pubis. Needless to say, Nat came quickly, but for some time she did not want to leave your mouth?
Misty didn't even ask your permission. Her head was wrapped around yours, her fingers tangled in your soft hair, and she was holding you to her bushy pussy like she was dying without it. You were taken aback, but that didn't stop you from wanting to please her, even if her actions were met with disapproval from the other girls. No one wanted to be played with more roughly than the rest. You licked her, trying to please her as much as possible - Misty looked like she was not easy to please, but she was whispering so sweetly in your ear, praise and advice, that your arousal literally flowed out of your panties.
"Yes, t-that's it, Y/N… That's just perfect, oh, you're so beautiful. You're just an angel, a little perfection." She muttered selflessly, her glasses falling to the tip of her nose as she came loudly in your mouth.
You were exhausted, but Lottie was still there. She was the last one. You looked up at her, tired, sluggish, and excited. She gave you a quick smile, but there was undisguised triumph in her eyes. She had you after all. Did we mention that Lottie hated rejection and not getting what she wanted?
Lottie lifted your chin, gently stroked your hair and tidied it up, wiped the tears of pleasure from your eyelashes. She let you dive into her pussy yourself, start licking it yourself, as if you were in some kind of licking contest and were going to take first place there. She let you keep glancing at her, watching every movement of her moaning mouth and trembling hands, just to please her. Your heart was beating so fast and it was so hot and you wanted to please her so much, plunging your sweet tongue into her pussy over and over again, that you had a hard time holding on. Lottie took the longest, savoring every second and apparently holding herself back. Eventually she pulled your head away from her, pressed her pussy to your forehead and came, covering you even more with her wetness. You were all for it.
"You did well, Y/N. You love us so much, you were ready for everyone." Lottie said tiredly. She nodded to the girls, and they sat around you. "Now you've earned a reward, huh?" You nodded vigorously, needing release. You were so wet, and almost whining with excitement. Your head ended up in Shauna's lap, and Nat, Misty and Jackie quickly found themselves at your feet. Misty nibbled on your calves and thighs, often not hesitating to do it quickly and hard, while Jackie, on the contrary, licked them like a kitten, gently nipping at the sensitive skin. This crazy contrast made you breathe quickly and roll your eyes, and all for the sake of Shauna watching this cute picture. Nat touched your pussy with her tongue, her two fingers slid inside your wet cunt - after such a long abstinence, taking two fingers at once was not at all difficult. You moaned, letting them all work on you while the others watched. Natalie's tongue was trying so hard to please you, playfully sucking and pulling on your clit, playing with your labia and purposely quickly driving her fingers into you, wanting to bring you to the peak and play on you like guitar strings.
"We love you, Y/N, such a gift for us." Jackie purrs, watching Natalie fuck your helpless pussy.
"You're the best!" Misty agrees with a smile, biting you and licking it slobberily.
"All that's left is to cum." Shauna says calmly, not hiding her smirk, constantly keeping her eyes on herself. "Come on. Nat's mouth is waiting for it."
As if on cue, you spill into Natalie's mouth with a loud moan. Everyone exhales relaxedly, and Natalie cleans your pussy with her tongue. "You're just sweet, princess." She smirks at her own abilities.
You let yourself sink into the girls' arms, catching your breath. You don't know yet that later they'll help you get dressed, each of them will kiss you on the lips, and you'll tell them to talk about it after Nationals. In the end, you still can't seem to choose one. You love them all, and you're waiting for them to return to Wiskayok, safe and sound, with victory in hand.
♡ summary: you and jackie got divorced two years ago, but at least the failed marriage had one good thing come out of it: your daughter, emma. for her seventh birthday, all emma wants is a weekend at the beach. the catch? both of her moms have to be there.
part 2 here
It's for the sake of my daughter, you told yourself, parking your car by the familiar house with the spotless green lawn and the swaying tire swing.
Well, familiar didn't quite cover it — not when you took the fact that you’d never really been inside of it into consideration. Still, there you were like clockwork, every other Saturday morning, staring at the same bed of trimmed grass and the same tire hanging from that tree before somehow managing to find the guts to step out of your car.
For the sake of my daughter, you repeated, taking a deep breath as the bottom of your shoes finally met the sidewalk.
You could say what you wanted about Jackie, but she'd found a very nice place for herself. A good, uneventful, family-oriented neighborhood that matched her house just perfectly: white sidings, spotless navy blue shutters, a lawn that belonged on a gardening magazine if that was even a thing. Not a dandelion in sight, which meant she still had the habit of bending over the grass with a hand trowel three nights a week, probably wearing those stupid expensive gloves you'd made fun of her for buying. Flower boxes burst with perfect geraniums, red, precise, on both sides of the welcome mat — the new welcome mat, thank you very much. It was the type of house that screamed I have my shit together so loudly you would have mistaken it for a soulless backdrop if it weren't for the bits and pieces of life, evident to a trained eye.
In all of them, Emma. The tire swing, rope slightly frayed, swinging from the majestic oak on the front yard. Her bike on the driveway, lying on its side in that way you knew Jackie had told her a thousand times not to leave. The welcome mat, as new as it was, uncentered. Creased. As if she'd flown into the house without a care in the world like the six-year-old hurricane she was.
The closer you got to the porch, the louder you heard breathless laughter and childish squeals, making it clear that Jackie and Emma were not inside. You circled the house in slow steps, having done this dance a thousand times before, already knowing where you'd find them.
Jackie stood by the goalpost she'd had installed in the backyard, arms toned and tanned and spread open, leaving you to wonder just when she managed to find the time to keep so fit in between taking care of a kid and picking up double shifts at the hospital. The sunlight hit her hair in a way that was nothing but unfair, loose strands falling from the bun she'd wrapped it in like she was the star of a fucking shampoo commercial. She laughed, carefree and radiant and beautiful, eyes on your daughter like that little girl held every good thing in the world in the palm of her hand.
“Alright, Em, let's try that again,” she said in that motherly, soft tone, the only kind Emma had ever heard coming from her lips. “Aim for the top corner. Use the inside of your foot. You can do it, baby.”
Emma looked up with determination and stubbornness, the tip of her tongue poking out, big hazel eyes focused in a way that was all Jackie. It still baffled you, the fact that she was the spitting image of her other mother, no trace at all of the donor you'd picked out of a website all those years ago. She had the same warm smile, the same pointy nose, the same doll eyes taking up half of her face. They were so similar it felt like a curse on some evenings, when all you wanted was to get home and not be reminded of the ghost of your ex-wife still hanging around, only for her mini-me to sneak up on you and ask what’s for dinner. Needless to say the girl hardly ever heard a no from you. You just couldn’t bring yourself to disappoint her, no matter the request, not when it meant killing that smile and taking the joy out of those eyes.
She kicked the ball with every fiber of her being, which, for a kid her age, meant she did an okay job. Still, you saw Jackie consciously take a step aside, pretending to fumble the defense in a way that flew right over Emma’s head.
“Oh— wow!” She exclaimed theatrically as the ball hit the net, playing it up in a way only a mother would. “Way to go, bear!”
“I DID IT!” Emma immediately let the excitement take over as she flew across the backyard like a jet, launching herself into Jackie’s arms. “I SCORED!”
An involuntary smile met your lips at the sight, and you figured it was finally time to make yourself seen. Taking a few steps forward, you clapped giddily, putting on a show.
It’s for the sake of my daughter.
“Okay, whoa, bear,” you widened your eyes, “you killed that shot! I didn’t even see the ball with how fast you kicked it!”
Emma turned around at the sound of your voice, beaming when she saw you, honey blonde locks sticking to her flushed face as she ran in your direction.
“MOM! Did you see that?!” She yelled proudly, excited, grabbing a hold of your wrist as you bent down to get on her level. “Mama couldn’t even get the ball! I did a goal!”
You chuckled, absolutely endeared by the blonde bundle of energy before you.
“I saw that, honey! Good job!”
She brought her hand up to your shoulder, tugging on the sleeve of your t-shirt.
“Mama said I could get lessons,” her voice came out softer, in that classic ‘I want something’ tone you’d come to spot from a mile away. “…If you’re okay with it.”
“Lessons, huh?” You raised a playful brow, using a hand to brush the hair away from her face and tuck it behind her ear. “We’ll see about that.”
“Please, please, pleeease?” Emma pouted, looking back at Jackie as a last resort. “Tell her, mama! Tell her I’m getting really good!”
Jackie snorted, hands on her hips as she caught her breath under the scorching sun, eyes narrowed to withstand the light.
“Go get your stuff, bear. Your mother and I will talk about it.”
Emma nodded, knowing she had to be good if she wanted to get her way. The little genius negotiator.
“Okay,” she exclaimed, already speeding toward the back entrance, “…but promise you’ll think about it with your hearts!”
You let out an incredulous chuckle as she disappeared inside the house, the words ringing in your ears like you’d been suckerpunched. Think about it with your hearts. Just like you and Jackie had told her about two years earlier, trying to explain the concept of divorce to a four-year-old — mommy and mama still love each other, sweetheart. And we love you. We’re just going to live in different houses now, because we won’t be married anymore. Everything’s okay, we just thought about it with our hearts.
Jackie seemed to read your mind, because she cut through the silence with a snort.
“She’s been saying that a lot lately,” she muttered. “When she doesn’t wanna eat her veggies, when she wants to stay up past her bedtime… please, mama, think about it with your heart.”
You shook your head with a laugh.
“Little manipulator.”
“I like to think she’s just gonna make a very good lawyer someday.”
“She’d run circles around a judge,” you smiled weakly, staring at the back door like Emma would somehow materialize there. “Win all the cases.”
“Or maybe she’s just got you wrapped around her finger,” Jackie huffed, hands still on her hips, eyes on the same spot as yours.
You chuckled.
“That’s more likely.”
Neither of you said anything for a moment, like it had usually happened when you interacted without your daughter around for the past two years. A bit of small talk here and there, some comment about a funny thing she’d said, then silence. Pauses. Hesitation, both of you afraid to shatter the bubble of friendly co-parenting you’d managed to establish so well.
Especially now. Especially with the next weekend right around the corner, hovering by like the elephant you refused to acknowledge.
You cleared your throat, ever the hater of awkward silences.
“So… soccer coaching, huh?”
That was not what you wanted to talk about, but you’d keep the real topic to yourself.
“Yup,” Jackie nodded. “She’s been talking about it nonstop. Apparently Heather joined the league at the rec center and now she must get on the team too.”
“Oh, of course,” you joked. “If Heather’s doing it…”
She huffed a laugh, still avoiding your eyes.
“I think it’d be good for her. Breaking a sweat, learning to be part of a team. If you’re willing to take her on your weeks, that is.”
Your weeks. Another reminder of the system you’d both worked together setting up.
You crossed your arms, looking at Jackie out of the corner of your eye.
“I mean…” you shrugged. “We’re already the lesbian moms, do you really wanna be the soccer moms too?”
Jackie chuckled.
“You saw how excited about it she is.”
There really was no arguing with her logic — so, tilting your head down, you nodded, defeated.
“Soccer it is.”
Another quick but excruciating moment of silence passed as you turned your gaze back toward the door. Thankfully, Emma came to your rescue, backpack bouncing against her back as she ran down the porch steps with her faithful Nintendo Switch tucked in her hands.
“Emma,” Jackie called out, looking down at the videogame. “Remember what we talked about.”
“No running with the Switch,” the little girl repeated the words monotonously, as if she’d heard them a thousand times before. “Sorry.”
She took a step closer, face morphing into a smile as you pulled the backpack off her shoulders and let it hang from one of yours.
“Did you talk about the soccer lessons? Did you? Did you?”
You placed a hand on her shoulder, putting the stern mom mask on.
“If you behave,” you warned, “and if you promise to not complain about doing homework after practice… then mama and I agree you can take them.”
Emma’s grin tripled in size, eyes crinkling up around the corners just like Jackie’s would every time she smiled.
“YES! THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!” She squealed in excitement, hopping up and down, looking at you and Jackie with unbridled joy. “I’ll behave! I’ll do my homework! I promise!”
She grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly.
“Can you take me tomorrow, mom? Please, please, please?”
You chuckled.
“Tomorrow is Sunday, baby. The rec center’s not open.”
“Aw, man,” she frowned in classic six-year-old fashion — jumping with delight one second, dropping her shoulders the next. “When can we go?”
“I’ll take you next week,” Jackie chimed in. “After we get back from the beach.”
And there it was.
The subject you’d both been dancing around ever since Emma came up with the goddamn idea a few weeks earlier. You’d only ever handled it over texts, sending each other booking details and cost logistics, but you hadn’t been brave enough to bring it up in person yet.
You knew you’d eventually have to with the date coming up, but the words Jackie said still made your heart pick up in your chest.
Emma’s seventh birthday was the following Friday, and, as her gift, she’d asked for none other than a weekend at the beach. A bit of a stretch, but it was a normal request for a kid her age, right? Sure, you’d have to call in sick at work, and you’d have to put some money into it, but that was the whole point of everything, anyway. Providing for your child. Making sure her birthday wishes were met. Doing anything in your power to make her childhood memorable.
Except there was a catch:
She wanted both of her moms to be there.
It was non-negotiable, you’d come to find out after offering every alternative you could think of. How about a new skateboard? A puppy? One trip just with mom and another just with mama?
None of it worked. Emma insisted on one trip — “a family trip to the beach, mom, like the one when I was little!” It made your heart sink, hearing those words, the confirmation that your daughter missed the days when she had a proper family. When she had one home instead of two. When going on vacation with both of her mothers didn’t seem like such an absurd request.
So you said yes, as long as Jackie was on board, because it wasn’t Emma’s fault that the two of you couldn’t work it out in the past. And she agreed.
And now here you were, six days away from being under the same roof as Jackie for a whole weekend after two years apart.
Emma smiled again at the mention of the beach trip, as if all of a sudden she didn’t even care she’d have to wait over a week to join the local soccer league.
“Alright!”
Jackie cleared her throat, looking at you.
“Um, speaking of which… I’ve already gotten someone to cover my Friday shift, so… all set.”
You nodded.
“Good. I’ll just cash in one of my sick days,” there was a small pause before you continued. “The booking’s at two, by the way. I, uh, I thought I’d pick you up around eleven, how’s that?”
Because of course Emma insisted that you all carpooled together.
“Yeah, eleven. That works,” Jackie took a deep breath, palm rubbing awkwardly at the spot above her knee.
Sensing the awkward silence that threatened to come back, you looked down at your daughter.
“Alright, bear. We should get going now, grandma’s coming over for lunch,” you squeezed her shoulder gently. “Go say goodbye to mama.”
Jackie leaned over to capture Emma in a hug, smiling brightly as the little girl pressed a wet kiss to her cheek.
“Bye, mama,” Emma said. “Love you to the moon and back.”
“I love you too, bear,” Jackie tightened her grip just a bit around the girl, and you had to pretend to check your watch as an excuse to look away. You understood it. You were in that same spot every other week, saying goodbye to your girl, knowing you’d go the next few days without seeing her. It never stopped hurting. “Be good to your mom, okay?”
“Okay,” Emma pulled away, already used to the dynamic. “Don’t forget to pack snacks for the trip!”
And, next thing you knew, she was already sprinting toward the car — Switch in hand and everything. The back door slammed.
Jackie let out a weak chuckle.
“That girl is something else.”
“Really is,” you watched Emma buckle herself in expertly, repeating the process of every Saturday morning. “So, uh, I should probably get going, I’m supposed to pick up my mom and… you know how traffic gets.”
“Sure, sure,” Jackie nodded a bit too quickly. “I’ll… see you Friday?”
You felt your stomach drop once again with that feeling you couldn’t describe.
“Yeah. See you then.”
You walked away from Jackie hesitantly, that fucking pang hitting your chest as you looked at the side of Emma’s face, tilted down, already staring at her game like the entire thing had become second nature at this point. It would come in waves — a quiet shore that gave space to random, unexpected tsunamis, quick but all-consuming, and all of a sudden you’d find yourself right on that Wednesday morning a couple of years ago, signing the papers that would make the situation real. Walking toward a car that was only yours with an empty passenger seat, moving away from a house that was only hers. Preparing for the start of another one of your weeks, as she’d pointed out. It still hurt, if you thought too hard about it, seeing what it all had turned into.
It wasn’t that you weren’t over it — you and Jackie had been divorced for two years, for crying out loud, on account of a mutual decision. It was for the best. You had a successful career and an okay social life and Emma, the living proof that, as far south as things had gone, it had all been worth it at the end of the day. You were happy. You just got a little lonely sometimes.
“So,” you put on a smiley face as you buckled your seatbelt, the performance your daughter deserved, looking at her face through the rear view mirror, “how was your week with mama, honey?”
“Good,” Emma answered absently, staring at a bird that flew by while the Mario Kart theme song played on repeat in the background. “She made tacos two times. One just for us and one when Callie came over.”
“Ooh, how fun!” Your grin was half genuine this time, knowing how much Emma liked to play with her friend Callie. You figured it was good. From what you’d heard, Callie’s parents had just been through a divorce too. “Callie came over?”
“Mm-hm,” she nodded. “We played Minecraft and she teached me how to build a portal! She’s really good at it, too.”
You snorted, consciously opting not to correct her grammar. You probably only had a few more months of the little slips anyway — so right now you figured you’d hold onto them.
“And her dad is so cool. He makes really funny jokes. Even mama thinks so.”
Emma’s words, spoken so carefreely — bless her heart —, rose up your awareness like a police dog who’d just made a bust.
“Her dad?”
Emma nodded again, blissfully unaware of how tightly you gripped the steering wheel as you drove away from Jackie’s house.
“Yup. He always talks to mama when she picks me up from school. She laughs all the time because he’s so funny.”
You gritted your teeth.
Callie’s dad. You knew the guy — he owned that furniture store by the supermarket, the one with his picture on the sign as if the tight shirt he wore to accentuate his biceps had anything to do with helping someone pick out a new couch. He’d been the one to drop Callie off at your house for playdates a couple times, always with a polite grin and a friendly salute, always making some offhand comment about the weather. He was one of the few dads in Emma's class who showed up for things like parent-teacher conferences and birthday parties, which would have been a green flag if it weren't for the stuff you'd heard through the grapevine regarding his divorce.
Apparently, Mr. Sadecki Furniture had a habit of going through moms like he went through ties. The PTA events were merely foreplay, a buffet for him to choose from as his unassuming wife buried herself in business trips.
And now Jackie was on his radar.
Not that it mattered, of course. She was single. She could do whatever she wanted. You were just… looking out for your kid. Making sure she wasn't exposed to some random guy that liked to flirt with her mom. It was normal parent behavior, nothing more than that.
“Oh,” you cleared your throat, “what do they… talk about, that's so funny?”
Emma just shrugged.
“I don't know. I just know it makes mama laugh.”
Okay, maybe it shouldn't have bothered you as much as it did.
For all you knew, Jackie might as well have just been friendly to the guy, a quality she’d always mastered so well, ever the social butterfly from the day you two met. Sure. She was in the first grade moms’ group chats too, she was around for meetings and barbecues and dance recitals, she was just as involved in Emma's activities as you were — which meant she'd most definitely heard about Jeff Sadecki's reputation. But even so. She'd never been one to cause a scene. Maybe she even liked the attention, regardless of whether it'd actually go anywhere one day. Perhaps she just enjoyed knowing that she was still desirable — that someone wanted her. Even if that someone was Divorced Dad Ken.
God knows you couldn't blame her for it.
You knew a thing or two about how it felt to seek solace in someone else's attention — it was mainly why you were even divorced in the first place, right?
From the beginning, Jackie and you carried a passion so strong you never thought it would fade. It started on the very first day: that goddamn ancient elevator downtown, an innocent trip to some niche bookstore in an old building that resulted in nearly an hour trapped between the second and the third floor. You weren't exactly a fan of elevators, so the whole situation should have sent you right into panic mode — except you couldn't stop glancing at the cute honey blonde with the big eyes and the pink scrubs stuck in there with you. Barely a minute went by before she chuckled, looking in your direction, not nearly as scared as you figured she would have been.
“Don’t worry,” she said, casual, smiling with the confident effortlessness of someone who probably worked every room she'd ever been in. “It usually bounces right back after a couple of minutes.”
And so you got to talking. You learned she was in nursing school, interning at some clinic across the street, and this old building was usually where she went off to kill some time during her lunch break. You introduced yourself. Talked about your own life — grad school, your area of research, the bookstore you were coming back from. A couple of minutes turned into almost an hour before a firefighter jammed the aluminum doors open with an apologetic smile, and only then you realized how much time had passed.
Next thing you knew, you and Jackie were in the parking lot, making out in the backseat of your car.
From then on, it never really stopped — until it did. You were the annoying couple everybody looked up to. The one always talking about each other at parties and sucking face in the corner of the room. The one your friends came to for advice on their love lives. The one who got married in a beautiful springtime ceremony in a vineyard and made all the guests cry with heartfelt vows. Emma's moms. Made for each other, as you foolishly used to think.
The beginning of the end was insidious, dragged out, sneaking up on you until it was too late to do something effective about it.
Somewhere after Emma turned two, in between managing a toddler and working shifts in the busiest hospital in town, Jackie started to shrink. Not for Emma, never for Emma. For you. Passionate touches that slowly morphed into no more than a hand on your arm as she fell asleep. Elaborate monologues on her day at work that turned into tired smiles over the dinner table. Goodbye kisses that became no more than routine pecks, quick and cold, like you were holding just the shell of the woman who used to be there.
But you saw it in her eyes — it was there whenever she came home to a warm dinner or when Emma grabbed your face with chubby hands and called you mommy. She loved you. She was proud of the life you'd built together. You weren't the problem, it was something else, something you didn't really know how to help with.
You tried talking about it. Bringing up the subject lightly, asking if anything was wrong instead of pointing out that you hadn't had sex in over a month. Offering to listen, a shoulder to cry on, to pull your weight with Emma and the house if she thought it was all getting too heavy to deal with.
It'll get better, she reassured you. I'm just tired, I guess. We'll adapt.
That was the first thing you tried — adapting. Long talks about where things were going wrong. Dropping Emma off at Jackie's mother's house so you could have the weekend to yourselves. Doing something different or new or exciting, trying to get the old spark back.
And it would work for a while. Short periods of time when, for a week or two, you'd tell yourself you were imagining things and everything was fine. It was just a hardship. We're over it this time. We're going to be okay.
Then the feeling would come back like an old wound you couldn't seem to shake. Jackie would grow distant again, you'd get irritable, you'd pick a fight over something you knew you weren't even mad about. Your bed would turn cold. The whole mood would be off for a couple of days until, once again, you sat down and talked about it like adults. Some conversations were productive, but some just made you feel like you were hitting a wall.
You wished you could say you stayed patient through it, but, unfortunately, that wasn't the case.
Each “not now” turned into a personal offense, every heavy sigh turned into an insult. Rationally, you knew she loved you. She wouldn't stay if she didn't, she wouldn't pack your lunch on her days off or let you pick the movie you'd watch nine out of ten times. Still, there was something missing — abstract enough that you didn't quite get it, but real enough that it made you feel like an afterthought, as much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise.
Until you almost did the one thing you swore you'd never do.
She was younger than you by a few years, probably twenty-four or twenty-five, a grad student who always sat in the back at your lectures. You'd never given her much thought — she was just there, like all the other students, taking notes as you rambled on for a couple of hours and then walking away when you were done.
But, one day, she stayed.
She smiled casually, the same unshakable confidence you'd seen in your own wife the day you met, except this girl had a sharpness to her you hadn't really known before. She was bold — bold enough to lean closer with the first two buttons of her blouse popped open, bold enough to laugh a little too much at some offhand joke you made, one that wasn't even funny. Bold enough to touch your arm as she complimented your lecture, blatantly ignoring the thick golden wedding band that lay heavily around your finger.
“I'm Mari, by the way,” the girl said, hand burning your arm through the fabric of your blazer. “The lecture was very interesting today, Professor. I'd love to hear more about your thesis sometime.”
It couldn't hurt, you told yourself. She's a student, I'm her professor. Students ask me about my thesis all the time.
Somehow — and you still didn't know how you let that happen — you ended up sitting across from her at a campus coffee shop, discussing your thesis like someone who talks about their hobbies.
You told yourself it was innocent. You were surrounded by students, for fuck's sake, you weren't going to do anything. It was an academic meetup, nothing but an opportunity to tell a grad student about your research and maybe help her out with her own. It was basically what your whole job was about, anyway.
Still, you knew your heart was racing in your chest. You knew you'd noticed Mari's lips and her cleavage and the perfume she wore. You smiled when she complimented you, you didn't say anything when she talked about how refreshing it was to learn from someone as young, as smart, as good looking as you.
It wasn't that you wanted to cheat on Jackie. It wasn't that you wanted to go back in time and not go into that stupid elevator. You just wanted to… be someone else for a little while. Feel desired, feel seen, wear somebody else's shoes and skin and be back home at 5 without that guilty feeling eating at you from the inside out. Step into some sort of new reality where you had a different name and address, where you weren’t the woman in the lukewarm marriage, see what it was like, and go back to your girls at the end of the day.
You didn't kiss Mari. You didn't lean into her touch when she reached for her cup and accidentally brushed your hand over the table. Hell, you didn't even say any words that could be read as anything other than perfectly professional.
Still, when you got home to the sight of Jackie, your wife, laughing on the lawn as your daughter chased a ball around with uncoordinated legs, your heart sank.
It was the first night since the elevator that you felt like it might be over.
You did everything right — the peck on Jackie’s lips as you walked by, offering to cook even though you'd just gotten home from work, putting Emma to bed with her usual bedtime book and a warm smile. And then, as Jackie lay next to you in bed for the night, you asked her if the two of you could talk.
You lay it all out, hoping it would at least rid you of the guilt that still hit you like a bullet whenever you thought about Mari's smile. The post-lecture talk, the arm touching, the compliments. The coffee. The flush on your cheeks and the drum in your chest. Not the things that you did, but the ones that, for a second, you wanted to do.
She didn’t say a word as you talked.
Once you were done, she stayed silent for a moment, to the point where you let out a nervous chuckle and begged her to say something. Anything. To throw something at you if she needed to, to slap you in the face if she thought it might help even things out.
But she didn't do any of that. Instead, she took a deep breath.
“I… hear what you're saying,” she muttered, careful, eyes staring somewhere beyond you. “And— and we can work on it.”
I don't deserve her, you immediately thought. You were there, telling your wife of six years that you'd spent the afternoon imagining being someone else right across from a younger girl who'd been blatantly flirting with you, all while she thought you were off working, and she still tried to listen to what you said. She still tried to understand where you came from. She still reassured you, being way nicer than you deserved her to be, telling you you'd both find a way out of this.
But even Jackie's steely patience ran out eventually.
After the Mari incident, nothing ever went back to the way it used to be. You could practically see it hovering over your marital bed, over slow Sunday mornings in the kitchen, over the front door every time you left for work. Jackie started snapping more frequently. Being upset over things she wouldn't care about before — a forgotten sock on the floor, a dent on the bumper, a meeting with your department that ran a bit too long. And you overcompensated, because that's what you did — I've got it, love. I'll do it. It’s okay, I don't mind. Always motivated by guilt. Always with a sense of obligation.
You signed the divorce papers eight months after the coffee shop. Jackie grew up in a house with parents who should have known when to call it quits. She’d always been vocal about not wanting the same to happen to her daughter.
So, for the sake of Emma, it was the right thing to do. You both agreed on it.
And now you freaked out over an interaction she had with some hot, womanizer dad — even though you had absolutely no right.
“Mom! Moooom!” Emma's voice cut through your thoughts, pulling you back into the present. “Are you listening?!”
You blinked.
“Yes. Yes, bear. Sorry. Mommy was just… distracted with traffic.”
“I asked if you're excited about the beach!”
With that eager face staring back at yours through the rearview mirror, the hazel eyes and the wide grin, you didn't have the heart to crack the fantasy.
“Yeah, Em,” you lied, the fake smile making your cheeks burn. “I'm really excited.”
And Friday arrived more quickly than you willed it to, every moment that led up to it hitting like you were on the death row.
Emma, on the other hand, was hyper — too excited to do anything but squeal and fidget in the backseat as you parked by the same spotless white house with the blue shutters.
Jackie was already standing by the porch, two suitcases on the steps — her own and the extra one she'd packed for Emma with the things she kept at her house —, holding a little box wrapped in shiny pink wrapping paper. Emma didn't even have to wait for you to say anything — the sight of the present was enough for her to unbuckle herself at the speed of light and jolt in Jackie's direction, excitedly calling for mama like six days without each other had been six days too long.
You didn't move with the same rush. Instead, as your daughter ran uninhibitedly, you tried to act the most casual you could while stepping out on the curb and moving to help Jackie load the car.
“Happy birthday, bear!” Jackie yelled out with a smile, loving, arms spread as she bent down and waited for Emma's warm embrace. “Who's excited about a weekend at the beach?!”
Emma didn't care about gracefulness as she launched herself into Jackie's arms, making her laugh breathlessly, body nearly tipping over.
“MEEEEE!”
You hung back, letting them have their moment, watching as Emma absolutely beamed when Jackie handed her the present. The little girl tore through the wrapping paper impatiently, ripping it apart in more pieces than necessary, jumping with joy as she finally looked at what was underneath.
“It's… it’s a…” She spoke hurriedly, not even aware of what she saw, but happy nonetheless.
Jackie chuckled.
“It's a camera, babygirl,” she said. “So you can take pictures at the beach and remember this weekend forever.”
“I'M GONNA TAKE SO MANY PICTURES!” Emma hopped up and down like a bunny, smiling genuinely even though you were pretty sure the only cameras she'd ever been exposed to came attached to a phone. She turned toward where you stood a few feet away, waving the box in the air, running in your direction. “MOM! CHECK THIS OUT! MAMA GOT ME A CAMERA!”
You couldn't help but laugh warmly at the sight.
“Wow, Em,” you took the box as she gave it to you, looking carefully at it — a disposable camera. It made your heart ache. As complicated as this weekend would be, as unexcited as you figured Jackie probably was about it, she still made sure it started out special for your kid. She still made sure it stayed special, no matter what happened, with a gift that would allow her to remember it for years to come. “That's really nice. We're gonna take a lot of cool pictures, aren't we?”
“So many! I'm gonna take a picture of everything!”
You smiled, patting her back.
“Alright, birthday girl. Can't wait to see them. Now go get back in the car while mama and I load up the trunk, yeah?”
“Okay!”
Emma ran back toward the car as Jackie made her way to you. You walked a bit faster, meeting her halfway, reaching for one of the bags she carried.
“Thanks,” she muttered, gracefully accepting your help.
Civility, that’s what it was. That's what you'd been practicing for two years, for Emma's sake.
“Sure,” you answered in the same tone.
You both moved toward the car, the familiar silence finding you more quickly than anticipated. As per usual, you broke it:
“So… a camera, huh?” You chuckled casually. “I thought the whole point of the trip was that it was already a present.”
Jackie smiled.
“I couldn't help myself. She deserves it.”
“You're spoiling her,” your tone wasn't harsh, it wasn't critical. It was a mere observation — something light and harmless, an attempt to keep the mood friendly.
“You're one to talk,” Jackie matched you. “I bet you also got her something.”
You let out a snort, red-handed.
“…A snorkeling set,” you confessed, popping the trunk open. “And a pair of grownup sunglasses she just had to have.”
Jackie laughed as she loaded her suitcase inside.
“So that's what the aviators on her head are about,” she shook her head. “You're turning her into a mini-you with the fashion choices, you know.”
“Hey, she picked them out herself. Guess she just gets the impeccable fashion sense from me.”
It was a relief, the small talk, the playful teasing, the ease. It made you think that this week might not be so awkward after all.
Until no more than a few seconds later, when Jackie circled the car and stared at the passenger seat like it had punched her, hesitating as if she didn't quite know where she fit anymore. It was the same seat she used to take before, back when the silence and the distance and the two separate cars weren't an issue. The seat where she sat as you kept a hand on her thigh and she played absently with the hairs on the back of your neck. Where she'd swear she was just resting her eyes as you drove during late night road trips. Where she'd pick out the songs you'd both spend the next hour singing at the top of your lungs as a smaller, chubbier Emma giggled nonstop on the backseat.
The hesitation lasted a second as she looked back at your daughter, like that little girl held all the answers she'd ever needed.
“Bear,” Jackie called, soft. “You want mama to ride in the back with you?”
But Emma just laughed like she'd said something absurd.
“That's silly. You're a grownup, mama. Grownups ride in the front.”
So Jackie got in the car, sitting right where she used to, except this time she kept her hands to herself.
You swallowed a sigh. This was going to be a long weekend.
The last hour of the drive dragged out like a bad movie. The first couple ones were fine, mostly filled by Emma's blabbering about everything she wanted to do when she got to the beach, interrupted only by little pauses she took to snap blurry photos of the highway with her new camera. But towards the end of it, as the sky got bluer and the air got saltier, she started getting tired. And with kids her age, all it took was a few minutes to transition from slightly quieter to full-on passed out in the backseat, head hanging heavily, leaving you and Jackie to navigate through the only three topics you deemed safe in this situation: the weather, the traffic and, as usual, the little girl snoring quietly behind the both of you, still clutching the present in her tiny hands.
By the time you crossed the bridge to the shore, you'd already exhausted every one of them.
You'd made the trip when Emma was two, right before things started going wrong, the same exact drive you were taking this time. You didn't mention it, and neither did Jackie. You wondered if she was thinking about it too.
Thankfully, you managed to survive the silence until you arrived at the cabin.
Jackie grabbed Emma's backpack of important things — which mostly consisted of her Nintendo, a half-eaten bag of gummy bears and, now, her camera — as you carried your daughter in your arms, not bothering to wake her up until you were all settled.
Once you finally got a good look of the rental, your heart felt like it was going to explode.
It was gorgeous. A white stucco box that looked like it'd been sculpted into place, standing firmly around a tall, wide cobalt blue door that matched the cinder blocks around the windows. Inside, the floors were cool terracotta tiles, the living room warm and spacious, smelling like fresh lemons from the bowl on the coffee table. The best part was the view — sliding glass doors that stared right at the ocean, sheer curtains breathing in the salt breeze, not a pin out of place compared to when you stayed there last.
When you walked down the hallway, suddenly you didn't know if you would to be able to survive the weekend.
Two bedrooms, just as you remembered, a king and a twin. The king where you'd woken up to Jackie's sleepy voice and the promise of salt water and sunscreen. Where you'd laid in bed and watched her get ready in the full length mirror, taking in every new tan line like you wanted to remember them long after they faded. Where you'd been tangled in the bedsheets together after Emma had gone to sleep, making love, oblivious to the fact that in the span of a year it would all be over.
And the twin. Two beds, one on each corner, one for Emma, one for that damn stuffed shark she used to carry around everywhere. Jackie's voice rang in your head, transported into the present, still alive somewhere in your brain even with the years that passed — next time we come here, maybe we'll have another one to keep Em company.
You wish you'd known how wrong she'd turn out to be.
This time, Jackie was the one to break the silence.
“So,” she sighed softly, and it was almost as if no time had passed when you took in the view of her, right there in that cabin, after all this time. “I don't mind taking the twin.”
You shook your head.
“No, no. Take the king. I'll bunk with Em.”
Sure, it was all in the name of being civil and polite — but, if you were being honest, you didn't think you could stand to lie in that king bed alone after last time.
Jackie looked at you without meeting your eyes.
“You sure?”
You nodded.
“Yeah. We'll have mother-daughter slumber parties or something.”
She chuckled weakly.
“Ten bucks says she passes out before eight. You know how she gets after a beach day, last time she was basically—”
Jackie caught herself all of a sudden, the hesitant look on her face making it clear she realized she'd been the one to bring up the elephant in the room first. You swallowed, pushing through with a choreographed snort.
“Yeah. Let's hope she sticks to the chasing seagulls bit. Left her out like a light every single time.”
You could see the way her shoulders dropped a bit, a huffed laugh leaving her lips, an effort to make it light just like you'd been trying.
“Exactly,” she muttered. “I'll, uh… I'll go grab the rest of the bags from the car, then.”
“Let me help you with that.”
“No, no. That's fine.” Jackie gestured toward Emma, still sound asleep in your arms, head tucked in the crook of your neck. “You've got her.”
You didn't argue. God knows you could use the few seconds alone, and you had a feeling Jackie needed them too.
By the time Emma was fully awake and changed into her bathing suit — after screams of very shrill “OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD” that went on for a whole minute after you woke her up —, the bags were already unpacked. You and Jackie each disappeared into your own rooms for a few minutes, meeting back at the living room so you could make your way down to the beach together.
She waited for you by the half-open sliding glass doors, making you stop in your tracks as soon as you reached the doorway, clutching Emma’s hand into your own with a little more force than necessary.
She was a vision.
Her hair swayed in the salty breeze, loose and luscious, the backless white dress she wore revealing the straps of a black bikini underneath. A pair of Ray-Bans rested atop her head, the same she’d worn last time, those golden-framed hexagonal ones that made her look like a movie star. The tote bag that hung from her shoulder, overflowing with extra towels and snacks and water bottles, was the only evidence that she was a mom on vacation and not some model ready for a shoot.
It was all so painfully familiar you thought you might faint.
“Mom,” Emma shook your hand, impatient, unaware of the turmoil inside your chest. “Let’s go already!”
Hopefully oblivious to what it did to you, Jackie turned around, smiling as she saw your daughter ready to go, with the strap of her new camera dangling from her wrist.
“Someone's eager,” she chuckled. “You guys ready to go?”
No.
“Yes,” you said, clearing your throat, putting on a smile. “Let's do this.”
The beach was a two-minute walk down a wooden path out of the backyard, throughout all of which Emma's camera must have clicked about a dozen times. She complained once or twice, still unable to fully comprehend the fact that she'd only get to see the pictures once they'd been developed, but, when you reached the sand, the frustration vanished like it'd never even been there in the first place.
She dropped your hand as soon as her toes touched the sand, kicking off her sandals like they were nothing but obstacles, and sprinted toward the water at the speed of light.
“Not too far!” You and Jackie yelled at the same time, the mother's reflex kicking in, causing you to look at each other for a brief second and share awkward smiles.
Emma just answered a quick “OKAY!”, already too invested in snapping photos of seashells at the shore and a sandcastle abandoned by some other kid.
You chuckled.
“She’s gonna run out of film before we even go back to the cabin.”
“Oh, I anticipated this,” Jackie offered back, walking beside you until you settled on a good spot. “Packed a whole bunch of extra rolls just in case.”
“Smart,” you lay down a towel on the sand, taking off your sandals much more demurely than Emma just had.
Jackie matched you, stretching out her own towel, pulling the sunglasses down to her face. You both sat there for a moment, watching Emma run with the purest form of joy, contagious little giggles so loud you could hear them over the crashing of the waves. You leaned back on your palms, taking in the sun on your face, willing yourself to relax for the first time since you’d woken up. It was nice, all things considered. The weather was right, the breeze was pleasant, the beach wasn’t too crowded that it got uncomfortable but it wasn’t too barren, either. And you couldn’t remember how long it’d been since you’d seen the ocean.
Unable to keep it in, you leaned further back, tilting your head up with your eyes closed and a soft sigh.
Jackie let out a little breath beside you.
“I’ve gotta hand it to Emma,” she muttered, “this is nice. Can’t remember the last time I took a vacation.”
You couldn’t help but turn your head and glance at her side profile. Jackie was talking about her life. Not in detail, barely scratching the surface, but it was the first time in way too long since you’d heard her talk about anything that didn’t involve the three safe topics you’d exhausted in the car.
It felt… weirdly good. And you wanted more of it after two years of not quite knowing how she’d been. What she’d been up to. Who she’d been with—
No.
You weren’t about to go there. For now, you thought you’d keep it safe, dodging the script just a bit but still managing to follow her cues. A loophole in the contract, a glimpse into the last two years of her life — all while still working for the sake of civility.
Something simple.
“Yeah. I know the feeling,” you huffed, eyes back on Emma. “How’s work been, by the way?”
Jackie paused for a quick moment as if she’d been just as caught off guard by the shift as you — but that didn’t keep her from answering your question.
“Busy,” she chuckled, fingertips playing absently with the edge of her towel, “but rewarding. The same old nurse dilemma.”
You smiled.
“How about you?” Jackie asked, much to your surprise. “Any recent breakthroughs in contemporary women’s lit?”
Your heart skipped a beat. She remembered.
Well, of course she did. More often than not, she’d come home to you sitting at the kitchen table, grading papers and complaining about some student’s penmanship, or she’d go to bed to you rambling on about the latest book rec you’d gotten from some older professor in your department. Still, it was nice to know the memory hadn’t vanished.
“No, no” you shook your head with an amused snort. “None that I’ve heard of.”
You had been working on a very interesting project with some of your grad students, but you figured you’d keep that to yourself.
Before you had to think of anything else to say that wouldn't threaten the peace, Emma came running in your and Jackie's direction, honey blonde hair wild in the breeze.
“The water is so cold!” She giggled, dropping the camera next to you on the towel. “But I still wanna go for a swim!”
You chuckled, knowing that was your daughter's own little way of letting her moms know she wanted company to get in the water. Though you were not looking forward to walking around with goosebumps on your skin and pale blue lips, you’d already started working the idea in your brain, after all, the birthday girl couldn't be denied on her special day.
Jackie, however, beat you to it. She stepped up immediately, letting out a little grunt from the effort, hands moving up to her hips like she'd been summoned for a mission.
“Come on, bear,” she said, determined. “Let's see how cold it is.”
The next few seconds made you wish you'd volunteered to dive into the cold water first.
Jackie took her sunglasses off first, casually throwing them on the towel, and, if it had stopped there, maybe you would have been fine. But, next thing you knew, her hands met the hem of her dress, pulling it above her head like it didn't make your breath hitch. Like it hadn't been years since she'd taken off a dress in front of you. Like she didn't look exactly the same, still fit and gorgeous, still carrying the same birth marks you'd spent hours tracing with your fingertips in another lifetime. The only new thing was the swimsuit — a black two-piece, simple but well-fitting, hugging her curves in all the right places.
You were thankful for the waves that broke as she stretched out her back, otherwise she might have heard the gasp you unwillingly let out.
“Race you to the water!” Jackie yelled, beaming as Emma took off like a bullet, letting the little girl win.
And there you were, aware of your every move, trying and failing to act natural as you pulled out a book from your tote bag.
This was Emma's trip, you reminded yourself. You were doing this for your kid. Any and every right you had to look at Jackie's bare skin had been given away the moment you chose to sign the divorce papers on that cloudy Wednesday morning.
You tried to focus on the book, on whatever theory it carried, on the words the author wrote that were now nothing more than meaningless letters jammed together on a piece of paper. It was pointless to try and fix your attention on anything other than her, Jackie, looking better than ever in that bikini, holding your baby in her arms like a picture of the life you once had, of the life you might have still had if you hadn't let it slip through your fingers.
They laughed and squealed in the distance, splashing around in the water — which really must have been cold, considering they returned to the sand after just a few minutes.
Swallowing whatever words you wanted to say, you reached for a towel in the tote Jackie had packed, wrapping it around Emma's trembling body. Even with blue lips and plain white fingertips, the little girl giggled like that was the best day of her life, moving in your direction with a traitorous grin.
“Mom!” She spread her arms, not giving a care in the world when the towel fell off her shoulders. “Hug!”
The tension left your back at that sight — your daughter’s smile widening as she launched herself into your arms knowing exactly what she was doing.
“Emma!” You let yourself laugh, squirming but not pulling away. “You're freezing!”
“Gotcha!” She beamed as if she’d just pulled the world’s greatest prank, looking back at Jackie, who was already drying off with a towel of her own. “Did you see that, mama? I totally got her!”
Jackie laughed, wet hair clinging to her neck, lips just as blue and fingertips just as white as her mini-me’s.
“Well done, bear. She totally fell for it,” she raised a hand in Emma’s direction.
Emma moved away from you and gave Jackie a loud high-five.
“Told ya!”
You couldn’t help but laugh too, completely unoffended about being the butt of the joke. The giggle on your child’s lips made it all worth it, the sole reason why you’d agreed to this trip in the first place — it was all for her.
The next hour or so matched the tone of the day so far, with you and Jackie alternating between offering Emma snacks and reapplying her sunscreen, and taking whatever time you had in between to soak up the sun and exchange a few harmless words. At some point, already fed and dry, Emma grabbed onto the sleeve of your shirt, tugging on it gently.
“Mom,” she spoke, soft, in that same tone she used whenever she wanted something, “will you build sandcastles with me?”
You smiled.
“Why, of course, bear. I’ve never heard a better idea.”
Emma took a while, but she eventually kind of got the hang of it, using her bucket and shovel to build sandcastles that wouldn’t immediately crumble. Every time, you cheered her through it — and, every time, she looked back at a sunbathing Jackie for her approval.
“Look, mama! Mom taught me how to make a fortress!”
“Wow, Em!” Jackie always encouraged her, always gave her the attention she seeked, always offered an attentive eye and a warm smile. “Great job!”
You must have built a dozen sandcastles, patiently helping pick out seashell decorations and stick flags, talking Emma through every single step and then some. It was fun, you had to hand it to the little girl, despite everything, and you caught yourself actually having a good time instead of simply pretending to.
Somewhere in between grabbing more water and building a moat for the newest castle, Jackie shuffled in her towel, reaching for the camera Emma had left lying there.
“Hey, architects,” she called out, pointing it in your and Emma’s direction, “say cheese!”
You felt your heart sink.
The setup, Jackie placing that goddamn gift in front of her eye as she took a picture of you and your daughter like it was something worth documenting, felt an awful lot like a family. Almost as if nothing had changed. Almost.
This is for Emma, you had to repeat in your brain, smiling for the camera as you put a sandy arm around the girl and posed behind one of the castles. Jackie’s playing it up so Emma can have the weekend she wanted. It’s all for her, we just want her to have a good time.
The three of you left the beach as the sun started to set, late afternoon morphing into evening while Jackie got Emma bathed and changed and you took charge of ordering dinner.
You all ate at the kitchen table, you and Jackie quiet in a way that, for once, wasn’t uncomfortable — listening calmly as Emma narrated the highlights of her day like you both hadn’t been right there to see it. Dinner flew by, and you kept telling yourself not to overthink the fact that it was the first time in way too long you shared a meal with both of them, after all, it was all for the sake of your child.
By the time Emma was yawning into her pizza — the special birthday menu she’d picked out herself —, Jackie stood up to clear the plates.
“I’ll put her to bed,” you offered, and Jackie gracefully accepted it.
With her pajamas on and her teeth brushed, the little girl was practically a zombie as she stumbled to the twin room, leaning against your hip with the clinginess of someone who’d be out in a matter of minutes. You tucked her in, sitting on the edge of the bed as she settled against you, reaching for the book on the nightstand — Guess How Much I Love You, dog-eared and soft from years of use —, but deciding against it once you realized her eyes were already closing.
You held her a minute, rocking gently, staring at that precious face like you’d do whatever she wanted if it meant you’d preserve that innocence. Because you would.
When you thought she’d finally fallen asleep, already starting to move so you could get in the other bed, she proved you wrong, clutching onto your shirt with her eyes still shut.
“Mom?”
“Here, babygirl.”
“Best birthday ever,” she mumbled, barely a whisper, soft with exhaustion from the day she’d had.
You smiled. Suddenly, nothing else mattered — Jackie’s hair in the sun, the black bathing suit, the king bedroom she’d already disappeared into for the night. Nothing was more important than the sleepy smile on your daughter’s face.
“Yeah?”
Emma shifted, almost gone, moving her head in a faint nod.
“Mm-hm. Wanna do it again next year.”
You chuckled.
“We can arrange that, love.”
“Mm,” she muttered, body going heavier, grip loosening. “Family beach trip.”
And, as if she hadn’t just broken your heart into a thousand different pieces, Emma relaxed fully against you, finally out. You sat there for a long moment, absently playing with her hair, the words repeating in your brain — a specific one standing out among the rest.
Family.
Once you were sure she wouldn’t wake up if you moved, you shifted out of bed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before you walked back out to the hall in hopes to grab a glass of water.
Unexpectedly to you, Jackie sat on the living room couch, a cup of tea cradled in her hands as she stared at nothing in particular. You wondered if she couldn’t sleep. If she’d thought you’d finally turned in for the night, and that’s why she left her bedroom. If she was secretly hoping you’d come out of yours.
You wouldn’t dare ask.
“She’s out like a light,” you said instead, swallowing the words stuck in your throat.
Jackie smiled weakly.
“I figured. She had a busy day,” she looked back at you, face clean, hair damp from the shower she’d just had. “Guess that slumber party’s gonna have to wait.”
You let out a soft chuckle.
“Yeah. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Maybe.”
A long moment passed. Jackie took a sip of her tea, letting the silence stretch until she finally stepped up from the couch with a little breath.
“I’m gonna head to bed,” she muttered. Not uncomfortable, not exactly comfortable either. Maybe just tired. “There’s tea in the kettle.”
“Thanks,” you stood there as you tried not to think of the million times she’d made you tea after a long day before. “I’ll have some.”
She smiled again, walking past you in the hallway, carrying the breeze of whatever new shampoo she wore. You liked it.
Once she reached her bedroom door, hand on the handle, she stopped.
“Good night,” she said, brief, eyes not quite meeting yours.
“Good night.”
And then she disappeared behind the door.
The next morning came with the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the smell of coffee.
Emma still slept soundly, spread horizontally across the tiny bed, wild hair covering half her face. You let her get a bit more rest, walking out of the bedroom and into the bathroom with the agility of someone who didn’t want to be seen yet. Once you’d gotten ready for the day, then you stepped out into the kitchen, where Jackie already stood in shorts and a bikini top, flipping pancakes on the stove.
“Hey,” you said as soon as she turned to look at you, “you… got a headstart on the day.”
She slung a dish towel over her shoulder.
“Morning. Figured we’d keep the birthday celebrations going,” she said, nodding toward the coffee pot on the sink. “Coffee’s fresh.”
“Thanks,” you poured a cup and leaned against the counter, watching her flip pancakes and stack them onto a plate. “Emma’s gonna lose her shit when she wakes up.”
Jackie laughed.
“That’s the plan.”
You didn’t know what it was, but the air seemed lighter. Maybe it was the fact that you’d both survived day one, maybe it was the growing familiarity with the space around you, you weren’t sure. But there was definitely a shift.
You welcomed it.
“Can I help with anything?”
Jackie looked around the kitchen.
“Yeah, you can set the table. If you don’t mind.”
“Sure, I’m on it.”
You started setting plates down as Jackie finished up, bringing the plate with the stack of pancakes to the table. You thought back to all the mornings that had looked exactly like this, Jackie making breakfast as you looked for the maple syrup, except back then you would’ve stopped mid-task to wrap your arms around her waist from behind and whisper sweet nothings into her ear, all while pressing gentle kisses to the crook of her neck.
This time, you settled for the maple syrup.
“Looks really good,” you offered, easy, looking for anything to say that wasn’t I miss you in order to keep the mood light.
Jackie smiled as you took a sip from your cup.
“Thanks. How’s the coffee?”
“It tastes like I didn’t have to make it for myself,” you dared to joke, “which means it’s the best I’ve had in a while.”
She laughed.
“Still making the world’s most bitter coffee, I see.”
You didn’t hold back the grin, giving into the memory, savoring the fact that she remembered.
“Hey, it’s not bitter. It’s just strong.”
“Whatever. Potato, tachycardic potahto.”
It was your turn to laugh.
“Still sharp with the medical jokes, I see.”
The pitter-patter of little feet on the terracotta tiles interrupted the moment in the best way, and Emma emerged from the hallway in creased pajamas and honey blonde hair pointing out in all directions.
“Good morning, bear!” Jackie welcomed her with a motherly smile, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple as you sat at the table. “How’s my favorite seven-year-old doing?”
She giggled, sleepy.
“Wanna go to the beach.”
“Right after breakfast, sweetheart,” Jackie leaned in closer, conspiratorial, like she was about to reveal a big secret. “Check out what we’re having.”
Emma’s puffy eyes went wide as she saw the stack of pancakes on the table.
“Pancakes?”
Jackie nodded, grinning widely.
“Pancakes.”
Emma let out an excited noise, still too sleepy to be a squeal, but almost there. She sprinted clumsily toward the table, not bothering to pick out her own chair, just settling for yours as she unceremoniously lifted her arms in hopes you’d let her share.
“Hey, Em,” you scooped her up, grunting slightly because she kept on growing, helping her settle down on your knee while she still fit. “You sleep okay?”
She nodded.
“I had a dream I built a sandcastle so big I could live in it!” She reached for the stack of pancakes, waking up a little more by the second, which you quickly stepped in to help with.
“Maybe one day we’ll get there if we keep practicing.”
Jackie joined the two of you at the table and you settled into a nice rhythm, effortlessly easier than the day before.
“How are the pancakes, bear?” She asked just as Emma reached for seconds, which was already an answer in itself.
“Best pancakes ever!” Your daughter turned around on your lap, looking up at your face. “Right, mom?”
You chuckled, brushing some hair away from her forehead, meeting Jackie’s face for a second before looking back at the little girl.
“Right, baby.”
After breakfast, Jackie got Emma ready for the day while you did the dishes, and, as promised, the three of you headed down to the beach. The walk was easier this time. You fell into step without having to try as hard, allowing yourself to laugh more carefreely as Emma ran ahead with the faithful camera strapped to her wrist.
Before you knew it, she’d already found some other kid her age from a family nearby, and the two of them dug holes and laughed in the distance like they’d known each other for years. The sun was higher than yesterday, giving you a real opportunity to catch some color, which you’d waste no time taking advantage of — so you peeled off your shirt and shorts, stretching on the towel, pretending not to notice as Jackie seemed to have the same idea.
You didn’t know if she was taking a peek at your body out of the corner of her eye or if that was just your peripheral vision playing tricks on your mind. Whatever it was, you didn’t mention it.
Just as you were about to reach for the book you’d been pretending to read, Jackie broke the silence.
“Oh, my God,” she said with a snort, turning her head in the opposite direction. “Tell me that’s not the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.”
You followed her eyes, letting your own land on Emma, who jumped up and down in celebration with her new friend after a wave filled the hole they’d dug with water, making a little pool.
It made you smile.
“Oh, to be seven at the beach with some kid you just met,” you joked. “Those friendships always felt so serious, didn’t they?”
“Ride or die,” Jackie chuckled. “And then you’d go home and never think of them again.”
Emma’s friend eagerly talked about something you couldn’t quite hear, making her nod with the determination and seriousness of a mini diplomat.
You chuckled at that and propped yourself up on your elbows, glancing briefly at the kid’s family.
“You think they’re from around here?” You asked, making conversation.
“Oh, no. Dad’s board shorts are way too neon for someone who’s not a tourist,” you’d forgotten just how observant Jackie was, a quality you used to tease her about back when you still had the right to. “Mom’s been looking over here an awful lot, though.”
“Really?” You raised a brow, eyes automatically moving in the mother’s direction — and, surely enough, she quickly turned her head away, caught red-handed. “What, think she’s never seen a kid with two moms before?”
Jackie shrugged.
“Could be,” she muttered offhandedly, leaning her head back as the sun hit her face just right. “Or maybe she’s just wondering where you got that swimsuit.”
Oh, so she did notice.
Your cheeks grew hot in a way that had nothing to do with the UV rays they’d been under — and you might as well have been naked, with how exposed you felt.
“She is not.”
If you weren’t still a bit dazed by the fact that Jackie had actually made a comment about your beachwear, you would’ve been sure you’d seen a little grin pop up on the corner of her mouth.
“I’m just saying. She’s looked over her magazine, like, ten times over the past two minutes. Maybe it’s time to rethink the whole… neon-shorts husband situation.”
You weren’t sure whether Jackie was making fun of you or not, or when exactly she’d deemed it appropriate to hint that some other woman might have been checking you out. Either way, you looked at her, silently hoping your aviators would be enough to hide the startled look on your face.
“You’re seeing things.”
And then she fucking chuckled.
“Maybe,” she said, unserious. “But she’s kinda cute.”
You lay back on your towel, deciding your best shot was to simply stare at the cloudless sky.
“I don’t know. I wasn't looking.”
“Didn’t say you were,” Jackie huffed a laugh, tapping her fingers against her thigh. “Though I wouldn’t blame you. You’re not blind.”
You let out a scoff, deflecting.
“Please. Like I’ve even had the time to think about that.”
You weren't lying.
Since the divorce, you hadn't exactly stayed celibate, but you hadn’t been on the prowl for new experiences either. After a handful of vodka tonic-fueled bad decisions on lonely weeks when Jackie had Emma, you'd realized that every encounter, every touch that didn't quite fit as well and every whisper of your name in the dark in a different voice was just a failed attempt to replace the one thing you'd never get back.
So you decided you were better off alone.
Jackie hummed, fingers stilling on her thigh for just a second before resuming their tapping, leaving you to wonder what was going through her mind.
“Well,” she shrugged, casual. “Not sure you could've looked past the ugly hat, anyway.”
You laughed, only now noticing the wide, gaudy beach hat sitting on top of the woman's head.
Before you could say anything else, Emma came running in your direction with her friend following just as determinedly, both of them holding a mix-and-match of each other's buckets and beach spades under tight grips because, apparently, it was that serious.
“Mom!” She yelled, chest heaving with effort when she stopped before you. “Can you show me and Dylan how to build a moat for our castles like we did yesterday? I was trying but I can't get it right!”
You chuckled, proud at being summoned for your sandcastle building abilities again.
“Sure, sweetheart. Let's go,” you got up from the towel, offering the other kid a friendly smile. “Hi, Dylan.”
“Hi,” he grinned, waving shyly, looking between you and Jackie. “My friend Carter has two dads.”
Jackie huffed a little laugh at the boy's casual comment.
“That's great, sweetie.”
And you stepped right into place, showing off your skills while Emma beamed with pride, elbowing her friend as the smile stayed planted on her lips.
“Told you she could do it.”
The kids took turns gathering mounds of sand and getting water from the ocean, now eagerly set on the idea of building a fortress three times as big as the one you and your daughter made the day before. With sandy knees and her tongue poking out in full concentration, Emma looked up at Jackie, waving her over like a soldier calling out her squad.
“Mama,” she said, in full seriousness, “we're gonna need more hands.”
Jackie stepped to her feet like it had never been a question.
“Where do you want me, boss?”
Emma pointed at the spot next to you.
“There. Mom can show you how she makes the castles not break.”
You felt your knees wobble a bit, hoping not to let it show as you repeated the mantra in your head.
It's for the sake of my daughter.
Jackie knelt down beside you, unceremoniously letting the sand meet her skin, picking up a bucket that lay among the pile of beach toys next to the growing fortress.
“So, basically you have to make sure you mix dry and wet sand in the bucket so it doesn't—” You started, but she dismissed you with a wave.
“Please. I know how to build a sandcastle,” she scooped up some sand. “Easy peasy.”
Then, as soon as she flipped her bucket onto the base and pulled it up, the whole thing crumbled into place.
Emma burst into laughter, causing Dylan to follow her lead a bit more tamely.
“Easy peasy, you said?” You couldn't help but tease, an involuntary smirk rising to your lips.
Jackie huffed, somewhere between annoyed and amused.
“Fine. Maybe I'm a little rusty.”
“That's okay, mama. I couldn't do it the first time, either,” Emma offered. “Let mom show you, it's gonna get easier.”
Jackie eased at your daughter’s words, face morphing into a warm expression as she apparently had the same thought as you. This sweet girl. We're doing something right.
So, maybe for the sake of teaching Emma a lesson about humility, or maybe just because she didn't want to look like a fool again, Jackie handed you the bucket.
“Okay. Show me.”
You grinned smugly, grabbing the bucket like the hundredth peace offering you'd shared this weekend.
“As I was saying,” you started, alternating between adding sand and dripping water into it, the perfect formula for a steady castle, “you have to mix dry and wet sand so the castle doesn't crumble when you lift the bucket.”
You smoothed out the sand with the back of the spade, flipping the bucket onto the base with practiced ease. When you lifted it, a perfect sandcastle stood.
“There,” you said, “you just have to follow the steps.”
Jackie snorted, taking the bucket back to herself.
“Okay, professor,” she jabbed, no heat to it, eyes rolling with something that almost resembled affection. Almost. “I think I've got it.”
And you fell into a steady rhythm again, with Jackie getting some of the towers right and some not quite, huffing impatiently whenever she didn't immediately ace the task at hand.
You let out a chuckle.
“You're worse than the kids,” you teased, voice barely above a whisper while Emma and Dylan focused too hard on capturing the perfect shots of the setup with the camera to pay attention to the grownup talk. “At least Emma didn't pout when she accidentally tipped over her castle yesterday.”
“I'm not pouting.”
“You absolutely are,” you snorted. “Every single time you fumble a try.”
“I'm not fumbling anything.”
As if it were planned, the castle Jackie worked on crumbled right before your eyes. You laughed. And she definitely pouted.
“See what I mean?”
Her frustrated expression morphed into a smirk, small, maybe at the absurdity of the situation. Maybe at the Universe's perfect timing.
“Zip it.”
“I'm just saying,” you kept going, the ease of the moment nearly making you forget why things had ever gone wrong in the first place. “I thought nurses were supposed to have steady hands.”
“My hands have nothing to do with it,” she defended herself halfheartedly. “The problem's clearly in the bucket. It's… defective or something.”
You laughed harder, and she seemed to match you despite herself.
“Sure is.”
Emma walked closer to the both of you, placing the camera in front of her face theatrically, like she'd just thought of the perfect shot.
“Mom! Mama! Say cheese!”
The laughter died on your lips, slowly, as you processed the little girl's request. She must have seen you and Jackie laughing together, for the first time in God knows how long not tense, thinking that was something worth documenting. You weren't about to take the moment away from her — and, with how Jackie placed her hands or her knees and leaned toward the lens, neither was she.
So you smiled. A sandcastle's worth of distance from your ex-wife, holding a sandy spade in one hand.
“Okay, almost there…” Emma mumbled to herself like a little director. “Wait— mom! Put an arm around mama!”
You tensed. Your daughter stood there, eager, waiting for you to follow her instructions with an unshakable smile on her face as if she hadn't just poked a bear with a short stick.
It's for Emma.
With the mantra still in mind, you leaned closer to Jackie, trying not to think too hard about it as your arm circled her shoulders with a familiarity you didn't know still lived somewhere inside you. Right before Emma clicked the button, somewhere in between the breath you'd been holding and the contrast of Jackie's warm skin against the cold strap of her damp bikini top, a sandy hand met your waist.
She was holding you back.
Not too firmly, not too tightly. As far as you knew, all for the sake of the performance. For the sake of the kid you shared.
You almost forgot to smile.
“Got it!” Emma cut through the loud buzzing in your head, through the sound of your heartbeat ringing your ears, beaming just like Jackie had when she'd snapped a photo of you and your daughter the day before. “So pretty!”
Then, same as it had been happening all weekend long, things fell into place again as you tried not to die a little inside every time Jackie looked at you. The worst had passed, you thought. It couldn't hurt any more than that.
Famous last words.
“Dylan,” the woman with the ugly hat said, a polite smile on her face as she approached you and Jackie after you were already done building sandcastles and the kids played around the fortress. “It's time to go, honey. Say goodbye to your friend.”
He got up with a sigh, obedient but not hiding the discontent, reluctantly moving to grab his toys from the pile.
“Bye, Emma,” Dylan muttered. “Bye, Emma's moms.”
You all said goodbye to the boy, Emma clearly upset about seeing her friend go, but toughing it out. Before walking away, the mom looked at you, still smiling.
“Congratulations, by the way,” she said, civil, sweet. “Beautiful family you have there.”
You froze.
“Thanks,” Jackie stepped in, matching the woman's expression, cradling a now clingy Emma in her arms. “You too.”
After you went back to the cabin, the night followed pretty much the same as the one before, except now the mood seemed lighter. Words flowed more easily. You moved to put Emma to bed while Jackie cleaned up after dinner, just like the night before, but this time your shoulders didn't feel quite as tense.
Emma fell asleep about halfway through the book you read, but that didn't stop you from silently mumbling the words as you turned the pages — more to yourself than to the passed out girl lying against your chest.
Jackie appeared in the hallway, crossing her arms while she leaned against the doorframe, a small smile on her face.
“Guess How Much I Love You?” She whispered, staring at the worn cover of the book in your hands. “You still read her that?”
You let out a soft chuckle, looking up.
“Almost every night.”
“Well. She's already asleep.”
From the knowing look on Jackie's face, it was clear she knew exactly what your answer to that was going to be.
“Gotta read it till the end every time,” you humored her, the proof of your assumption on her widening grin. “Remember?”
She nodded, warm.
“Yeah. I remember.”
How could she not?
Guess How Much I Love You was Emma's book from the start, the one you'd bought just a few days after the pregnancy test Jackie took in the bathroom came back positive, even before she had the real results from the one she'd taken at the doctor's office. It was the book you read to her belly, lying your head on her thigh so the baby could hear you better, melting as her hands sank into your hair with love and familiarity. It was the book you read on repeat for twenty days and twenty nights, bent over an incubator in the NICU, holding back tears as you looked down at Emma — small and frail and still not strong enough to breathe on her own. Every time, you read it all the way till the end. Even though she couldn't understand you. Even though you weren't even sure she could hear you. You just wanted your baby to know that she wasn't alone.
“You wanna do it?” You offered, holding out the book in Jackie's direction.
There were only a few pages left. Jackie walked toward the bed, taking the book without hesitation, leaning down to get on Emma's level.
“I love you across the river and over the hills,” She started, reading the words you could recite by heart at this point.
It was calm. Quiet. Warm, so warm it hurt you down to the bones.
You let yourself feel it, gently playing with Emma's hair as Jackie flipped through the pages just like she used to.
“I love you right up to the moon,” she finally muttered, closing the book carefully enough not to make a sound, “and back.”
The next few moments didn't require words. You both simply stayed quiet, watching Emma for a while before leaving one kiss each at the top of her head and exiting the room in slow steps.
Once the door was closed and Emma was officially dead to the world until the next day, Jackie looked back at you.
“Hey,” she said, smiling cautiously. “I may or may not have found a bottle of Pinot in the pantry while I cooked earlier. What do you say we make this a real vacation?”
You stopped for a second, unsure if you'd heard her right.
Wine. After a moment like that. Listening to the waves crashing in the distance. With your fucking ex-wife.
It was dangerous, a recipe for disaster, and you were painfully aware of it.
Still, you'd be an idiot to deny an opportunity like that.
“Like I'd ever say no to free Pinot,” you smiled too, deciding you'd blame whatever happened on the circumstances. “Lead the way.”
Jackie poured the wine outside, both of you sitting on the linen couch on the balcony, the view of the ocean in the dark not remotely as mesmerizing as the woman beside you. She leaned back with a sigh, and you weren't sure if that was an attempt to shake off the nerves or to simply try and wind down after a tiring day.
“Seven years old,” she broke the silence, taking a sip from the red liquid in her glass. “Can you believe it?”
You smiled, eyes on the waves as you drank too.
“Feels like yesterday. She was so little I could pick her up in one hand.”
“Strong little bear,” Jackie chuckled, shaking her head nostalgically. “Breathing so hard she was basically growling after they let us bring her home.”
“I don't think I'd ever been that scared in my life. When she was born, I mean,” you took another sip. “Still haven't felt anything like it since.”
“Me neither. At work, I see all those kids that come in and just…” She sighed, choking on something too heavy to mention. “Always makes me think of how lucky we were. Of how lucky we are.”
You nodded.
“Yeah. We really are,” you paused, waiting for another wave to hit the shore before talking again. “She's having the time of her life, you know. Told me last night that it was the best birthday ever.”
Jackie huffed a laugh, endeared.
“Yeah. When I was getting her ready earlier she told me she wants to do the same thing again next year. And every year after that.”
It was your turn to laugh, just as smitten as her.
“You too? Damn. She's already planting the seed.”
“Well. She's nothing if not persistent.”
“Wonder where she gets that from,” you teased, hiding behind another sip of wine, already moving to top both of your glasses off.
Jackie chuckled, welcoming it.
“From both of us, thank you very much. I'm not taking the blame for that on my own.”
“Fair.”
She drank her wine.
“I'm in if you are. Next year, I mean.”
You smiled.
“You sure?”
Jackie nodded determinedly.
“She hasn't cried once while we've been here. I've barely even seen a frown. If that's our reward, I'm willing to come back every year until she's eighteen.”
You laughed.
“I doubt she's gonna want that when the time comes, but…” You shrugged. “Fuck it. I'm in.”
Jackie laughed too, easy, letting the silence settle between you for a moment as wine flowed a bit too quickly.
“I almost called and cancelled, like, a hundred times before this,” she confessed, the words out in the salty breeze. “Had an excuse lined up and everything.”
You let your eyes fall on her face.
“You did?”
“Mm-hm. But I'd give up every time when I saw how excited she was. And I guess some part of me kept waiting for you to chicken out first.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. You’ve never really… thrived in uncomfortable situations.” Jackie looked at you, too. “You're good at a lot of things, but surviving awkward silences has never been one of them.”
You smiled weakly, not offended. Seen.
“If it serves as any consolation, I did think of bailing, too. So many times.”
Jackie raised a brow.
“And what stopped you?”
“Emma,” you shrugged like it was obvious, already seeking comfort in another sip. “What else?”
She smirked, conspiratorial, understanding.
“Exactly. I think we're doing a really good job, though.”
“What, like in general?”
Jackie chuckled.
“Yeah, in general. But I meant here. This weekend. It's been… nice. Nicer than I thought it would be.”
You nodded, already starting to feel a bit lightheaded.
“We did always make a good team. You know, despite… whatever. It's part of the reason why Emma turned out so great.”
“Only part of it?”
“Mm-hm,” you smirked. “The rest she gets from me.”
Jackie laughed, soft, warm — the same type of laugh that used to fill your kitchen on Sunday mornings.
“Of course she does. Especially the humility. That's all you.”
Wine came and went, the sound of the waves enveloping you both in something that almost felt like a dream.
“Earlier,” Jackie cut through the quiet again, starting to speak a bit slower, “at the beach. When, uh, you mentioned you didn't have time for… looking or whatever. Were you being serious?”
You let out a chuckle.
“Aren't you curious.”
She rolled her eyes, but she didn't really seem annoyed.
“Don't flatter yourself. I'm just… curious about your life. It's not like you've been exactly vocal about it.”
You shrugged.
“It… is what it is, I guess. I have Emma. I have my work. Haven't really been on the prowl for anything else.”
Jackie paused like your statement surprised her, letting the long sip of wine she took speak for itself.
It was your turn to pry.
“How about you? Anybody… special in your life lately?” You almost held yourself back, but you just had to keep talking — you and your big mouth. “Maybe a certain dad that's been hovering around?”
She frowned as if she had no idea what you talked about.
“A dad? Where'd you get that idea?”
You chuckled, looking away, realizing you might've said too much.
“Oh, nowhere. Just— Emma said something the other day that kinda…” You shrugged. Jackie kept looking at you like she waited for an answer. You caved under the pressure. “Apparently Jeff Sadecki is so funny even mama laughs at his jokes.”
Jackie's face contorted like you'd personally offended her.
“Jeff Sade— Wait, Callie's dad?” She laughed, shaking her head firmly. “That's not— Jesus. No. Fuck, no.”
“I'm not… accusing you of anything,” you said, wanting to slap yourself in the face for letting the moment of ease slip through your fingers. “I'm just repeating what Emma—”
“Emma's seven,” Jackie interrupted, exasperated, still laughing like the whole thing was ridiculous. “I didn't… God. I was polite to him during pickup a couple of times. I barely even know the guy.”
You nodded.
“Yeah. Yeah, of course. It's not like I thought you'd ever— um, stoop that low, anyway.”
“Stoop that low?” She teased, raising a brow, obviously seeing right through your desperation.
God. Fuck. You really needed to learn when to shut the fuck up.
“I didn't mean it like that, it's just…” you fumbled your words, already too tipsy and nervous to make anything make sense in your head. “He's beneath you, that's all.”
“Beneath me,” she chuckled. “And you get to decide who's on my level?”
“That's not what I meant, Jackie, I never— he's just— he's got a reputation, which I'm sure you've heard of, and—” You pressed your eyelids together, letting out a heavy breath. “Fuck it. It's none of my business anyway.”
“You're right, it's not,” she shook her head. “But nothing happened. And nothing will, in case you're wondering. I hadn't even thought about it until you said it.”
You opened your eyes, letting them meet her face again, feeling the heat that creeped up your neck.
“...Oh.”
“Yeah,” she chuckled, amused, “oh. Though now that I know how much it'd bother you, maybe I should go ahead and do it. Get back at you for that time you fucked a 22 year old while I stayed home taking care of your daughter.”
Whatever color you had on your face, you were sure it went away the second the words left Jackie's lips.
There it was. The subject you'd been dancing around for two years, the darkest time of your life, the worst thing you almost did. Coming out over the sound of the waves and the smell of salt mixed with wine.
“I never— fucked anyone,” you said, low, firm. “And she wasn't twenty-two.”
“Sorry. Wanted to fuck a twenty-something year old. My bad. I'll be sure to get it right next time.”
Her expression was unreadable. You wondered if she'd been holding a grudge all this time, if she blamed the divorce solely on you, if she thought you'd actually go as far as to fuck a student behind her back if you'd stayed together. It must have shown on your face — the utter desperation, the guilt you'd spent two years trying to bury coming right out of the surface, threatening to pull you in again —, because, against everything you thought you knew…
Jackie fucking laughed.
“Gee. Chill. I'm just fucking with you.”
“You're— what?”
She chuckled, taking another sip of her wine.
“I'm over it, genius. I just couldn't pass up the look on your face when I made the stupid joke.”
“You— fucking—” You let out a breath, one you hadn't even realized you'd been holding until this moment. “You're over it?”
“It's been two years. You didn't do anything. The marriage was dying long before that, anyway,” she shrugged. “What, you thought I was still mad?”
You couldn't help but laugh.
You'd been carrying the guilt in your chest for two fucking years, and there Jackie was, telling you you could have dropped it any time. That she was also to blame. That the Mari incident was simply a symptom of a marriage that was already terminal.
“I… I didn't know, I just…” You huffed, letting yourself take a long sip of wine in order to fully relax. “You really had me there for a minute.”
She grinned.
“Gotcha.”
“Fucking asshole,” you muttered, smiling, without any heat to it.
Jackie drank her wine. Look at the waves. Let her eyes fall on your face again.
“Would you really have cared, though?” She asked, earnest. “If I'd slept with Jeff Sadecki, I mean.”
Knowing you'd dug your own grave in this situation, you decided to go with the safest possible option considering the state you were currently in.
“...Yeah. Because of Emma, you know. Because I care who hangs around my kid,” you shrugged. “And if that means having an opinion on shady guys who flirt with my wife…”
You immediately cut yourself off.
But Jackie wasn't letting you off the hook that easily, of course she wasn't.
“Your wife?” She asked, smirking like she'd caught you red-handed, lowering her glass until it met the coffee table.
You found yourself wishing you'd just stayed quiet for the billionth time that night.
“I meant—”
“I’m not asking what you meant,” she interrupted you, leaning slightly closer. The smile still stubborn on her wine-colored lips. “I'm repeating what you said.”
“It just— slipped, Jackie, I'm sorry—”
“Don't apologize,” she shifted even closer, the distance shrinking by the second. “Say it again. I wanna hear it.”
Your heart was pounding in your chest, hard and fast, and, at this point, you weren't sure whether the moment was simply a very vivid dream or if it was actually happening, just like you'd imagined so many times.
“You… want me to…”
Jackie scooted so close her thigh was touching yours now. She reached for your wine glass, placing it right next to hers without asking for permission, freeing up your hand.
“Say it again. I think we both know you did mean it.”
So, as her hand met your chin delicately, forcing you to look at her even though she absolutely didn't have to, you finally gave her what she wanted.
“My wife,” you repeated, quiet, for her ears only.
“Again,” she leaned in, eyes on yours, so close you now shared the same breath.
“My wife,” you muttered, devoted, honest. Like you'd never really left — because maybe you never did. “You're my wife.”
Jackie shuddered visibly, vulnerable, just as stuck in the moment as you were. Her hand slid from your chin to your jaw, cupping, rediscovering, as she let her lips simply brush yours for a mere second.
“I am,” she whispered, pressing a dizzying kiss to the corner of your mouth. “And you're mine.”
You couldn't hold back anymore.
You lunged into Jackie, kissing her lips like you’d been stuck in the desert for the longest time and she was rainfall, abundant and redeeming and all-consuming, bringing an old meaning back to your life you thought you’d lost all those years ago.
From there, it didn’t take long for things to fall into place as if they’d never left. Every touch was a mended promise, every kiss was a step into the future as if nothing should’ve ever been left in the past.
You guided her to the king bedroom, sure, unapologetic, refusing to waste another second after two whole years of swallowing words and trying to convince yourself that you could ever truly be happy without this, without her, without your wife by your side.
There was still a lot you needed to discuss. Problems that had started for a reason you still couldn’t quite understand. A long way to go — but you’d be damned if you didn’t do everything differently this time. Not just for Emma. For Jackie. For you. For your family.
Hours later, as the sun started to rise through the sheer curtains, Jackie looked at you with a smile on her face — laughing at nothing, sunkissed, beautiful. Yours, as she’d always been. As she always would be.
“We’re so coming back again next year,” she whispered, a promise sealed with a tender kiss to your jaw.
And you did.
But that time, you carried a golden band around your finger, and a picture of you and your wife over a torn sandcastle in your wallet.
