#anyway may i present to you part 1! enjoy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

enkas-illusion · 4 months

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(Not) Just Another Crush - Part 1/2

Fandom / Pairing: Attack On Titan / Eren x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content Warning: Fluff, fluff, A LOT of fluff, slow burn, kissing, language, slight make out, emotional edging of sorts (it will make sense)

Chapter Summary: Instead of pining over the mystery man at your gym from a distance, you decide to take matters into your own hands and talk to the guy. And you find out that Eren Jaeger, as it turns out, is akin to a man written by a woman.

Author's notes: Hello, here’s a meet-cute type of thing for gym bro Eren cause ~I need a big boy, gimme a big boy, gimme a big big boy~; this is a 2-part story so the chapters are super lengthy. Hope you enjoy it – feel free to like, reblog or comment! Thank you for reading!

-Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Crush by Cigarettes After Sex

Part 1 | Part 2

To the unassuming eyes, it may look like just two people interacting – but to the ones who knew, you and the gym trainer, it was fate intervening to give you this opportunity!

“Bruh, if you don't go talk to him now…” you hear Porco, the trainer's voice as he nudges you in your crush's direction.

As you walk up to your crush you think about how stupid this idea seems. The plan was to ask him to alternate sets with you on seated rows since the gym was way too crowded.

Honestly, the move was a bit too obvious in your opinion. But you'd set your mind to it – Today is the day you finally talk to your crush!

It had been quite some time since you'd been secretly simping over this guy so what's the harm? All the other equipment being occupied was the perfect excuse, if you had to look for one, to finally talk to him.

Since you’re usually reserved, you don’t talk to anyone at the gym. You've always been this way – doing your own thing while blasting music in your earphones and going home without ever lifting your head up.

But ever since you saw him about a month ago, your eyes had been wandering around to find him the minute you'd enter the gym, stealing glimpses whenever you could without being creepy about it.

You decided it was just some stupid crush only because the man was ridiculously hot so it'll fade away eventually. But man, were you wrong.

When he didn't show up to the gym the whole week last week, you rushed to Porco, who's always hanging around to enquire – any semblance of subtlety thrown out the window.

It wasn't like you were planning to make a move (god knows the only reason you didn't talk much at the gym was to avoid the occasional creeps that would try talking you up).... but the fact that it felt like a missed chance with the mystery guy left an itch and a curiosity to know more.

“...you know the one who's always wearing anime t-shirts? Long, black haired pretty dude?” You'd asked, hoping Porco would recognize your crush from your half-assed description.

When Porco was seemingly confused, you'd pestered further, “The one who always has his hair tied in a messy bun but still looks gorgeous? Nothing? Ummm- The emo dude with the perfect proportions!”

“OH! Are you talking about Eren? I can’t quite remember his last name but pretty sure you’re talking about Eren. Yeah… he's a regular– has been here for a year now.”

“How come I only saw him a month ago?”

“I think he recently switched timings to fit his work schedule or something. Maybe he shifted back to the mornings.”

Your heart sinks at the information… there goes your imaginary chance with Eren.

Eren.

You memorise his name anyway… hoping that maybe the gods would be generous enough to give you a chance to talk to him.

And they do. He shows up over the weekend and you secretly cheer that he's back during your schedule. However, another month passes by as you keep on trying to find the ‘perfect’ opportunity to talk to him.

Which brings you to the present moment, as you walk towards him and wait at a distance while he finishes his reps. He slows down his movements nonetheless when your eyes meet, and before you can stop yourself, you wave at him before abruptly putting your hand down.

Eren stops his movements and pulls his headphones back, his serious face breaking into a soft smile, “Hii…?”

“Hey, sorry to interrupt but would you mind alternating sets with me? I’ve been waiting for about 15 minutes…” you point at the other equipments flocked by people, “Totally cool if you can’t tho-”

“Okay,” he smiles as he does five more reps before getting up and wiping the sweat off the seat.

“Thank you,” you say as you go to adjust the weights. Your jaw almost drops when you see it's set to 80kgs. You almost want to laugh as you set it back to 15kgs.

‘Dude’s a beast, don’t compare! Upper body never was your best muscle group,’ you think to yourself. You resume your music quickly and begin your set. When you’re done, you get up to wipe the seat as well as the handlebars of the machine with your towel.

You hear a snort from behind and when you turn to look at Eren and see him give you a smile that has you weak in your knees.

“What?” you ask confused.

“Wiping the handles as well? Cute,” he answers. He can’t help but find this action considerate – Most people don’t even bother wiping the patch formed by their sweaty ass cheeks.

Even if his compliment makes you blush, you try hard to not let it show. You simply move away to signal him to the seat. He bends down to readjust the weights.

“No way you’re gonna go above 80!?” you gasp as you see him push it to 100kgs.

“The last one is always till failure,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Oh... that’s crazy, I could never. I’ve got noodle arms,” you joke.

“Didn’t you get your first full pull up a few days ago?” he asks.

PAUSE. He’s noticed you before???

As if instantly reading your mind, he adds, “I saw you cheering and clapping your hands with Porco when you did it.”

“Oh that… sorry, I try not to bother anyone much usually,” you feel the heat rise to your cheeks out of embarrassment.

“I know, don’t be sorry, it’s a good thing to celebrate your PR… besides, Reiner has been teasing me about not making any progress lately so I need to step up my game for sure,” he laughs to himself as he gets into position.

“Reiner?”

“That’s the huge blonde who I usually come with,” he explains. You simply nod and don’t speak further, letting him begin his set. He starts well but by the end you can tell that Eren is struggling a bit as soft cusses leave his lips, face scrunching and chest heaving as he steadies his breathing.

“Come on… 2 more.” you cheer, causing him to grunt as he finishes his set. Your eyebrows raise in surprise when you see him wipe the handles along with the seat, imitating your habit.

“Thank you.” you blush as you bend down to readjust the weights to 25kgs, “So, you’re done?”

“Yeah…” he speaks, taking small sips of water from his bottle, “I’ll see you around?”

You nod and he smiles at you as he turns to leave, but quickly turns back again, “Shit! Sorry… What's your name?”

The blush grows even further at his question as you tell him your name and ask, “What about you?”

“I’m Eren… Eren Jaeger.”

Jaeger. Eren Jaeger.

You memorise his full name and you both say your goodbyes as you get back to your workout. Eren left way before you did, leaving no room for further conversations to occur.

This interaction hadn’t gone unnoticed by Porco, who rushed to your side when you were stretching, “Soooo, am I your cupid yet?”

“Don’t get your hopes up… we’ll have small talks whenever we see each other at best. Nothing’s going to happen!” you lie with a straight face, but deep down you were dying to check him out on Instagram once you were in the comfort of your home.

Your crush was oh so kind to spare you the stalking when you see your phone light up with a notification later at night.

Eren_j started following you.

You almost jump up out of your bed but steady yourself to call your best friend, Annie, before you even get to checking his account.

“Guess who just followed me on ig?” you giggle when she picks up the call.

“Huh?”

“Guess. Who. Followed. Me!” you repeat.

“Darling… I need context,” she replies dryly.

“Eren… Eren followed me… the gym crush!” you squeal, killing the suspense since you knew it was too late at night for her to indulge in your guessing game.

“Waitttttt… the supposedly hot emo guy who wears anime t-shirts?” you can hear her surprising tone, “you go girl– thought you were too much of a puss-”

“Annie!” you cut her off, “What do I do? Should I text him first or just follow back?”

“NO! Always let the guy text first,” she proclaims.

“Ugh… but okay, I hear you… wouldn’t want to seem like a simp after keeping my cool for so long,” you answer back as you put her on speaker to follow him back. You see the Requested icon turn to Following within seconds.

“ANN! He accepted already,” you almost yell.

“Welp, that was fast,” she chuckles.

“Sooo,” you begin in a sweet sing-song voice, “I’m gonna go stalk his profil-”

“Yeah, alright… have a good night babe.” you hear a dramatic mwah from her. You chuckle as you bid her good night before hanging up.

As you skim through his profile, you can’t help but feel giddy at the fact that this guy actually seems to have a personality, unlike some gym bros who make ‘muscle’ their entire personality.

When you’re going through his story highlights, you see his username pop up at the top of your screen, making your heart race faster. He had replied to your story. You rush to check on your profile what you’d posted, feeling your brain malfunction as you fear it being something embarrassing and goofy.

Phew. It was just a post-workout selfie showing off your wet, sweaty t-shirt.

You open his text.

Eren_j:

Guess u got a good workout in after I left afterall.

Feeling a bit bold, you text back.

I did… would’ve been a lot more fun with you tho.

And you almost want to throw your phone away in anticipation as you see the typing icon.

Eren_j:

Be careful what you wish for. I’ve been told im a strict/difficult gym partner.

I like me a challenge :)

Eren_j:

Is that so? Guess i gotta make it particularly hard for u :)))

I’m a tough girl Eren… i think i can take it.

You swing your feet as you roll around on the bed. If you ever showed this to Annie, she’d probably call it ‘fucking cringe but cute nonetheless’.

As the double entendre texts died down, seamless conversations kept you hooked. He was putting in equal amounts of effort to keep the conversation alive. You don’t exactly remember how you fell asleep but you remember talking to him for about two hours or so.

And that’s how you became gym buddies. As another month had passed by, you got to know him as a friend. You want to cuss yourself since your crush has only increased tenfold ever since you’ve gotten to know him personally.

You realise just how deceiving his looks are – on the outside, he’s this big, intimidating dude but on the inside he’s got the golden retriever energy. Eren is the perfect mix of what you’d call a serious yet laid back/chill guy.

He’s thoughtful, remembers tiny details about you, sends you songs whenever he finds one he thinks you’d like and memes that remind him of you and is a self proclaimed hopeless romantic. You could go on and on about Eren and it would still not be enough – needless to say, you were absolutely gone for him, the kind that they describe as being totally head-over-heels in movies.

And it doesn’t help that a few nights ago, when the gym was basically empty, you two almost kissed. Standing in the corridor, as you were saying your goodbyes, it felt as if he was about to lean in to kiss you before being interrupted by someone walking out the changing room, making you flee the scene, akin to a criminal being caught.

But then again, you weren’t really sure if it was just your delusion overriding the tiny bit of logic left in your romance-ridden brain.

~~~

“Eren… I can’t– fuck,” you groan as your hands shake.

“You got it, come on. You’re doing so good. One more then we’re done. Promise,” you hear his voice as his grip on your waist tightens.

Eren supports your bodyweight as he pushes you up so that your chin is touching the pull up bar. The first few were bearable but by your 7th pull up, it’s more like he’s working his biceps rather than you working your back.

With shaky hands, you try to control your movement as you come down but your arms almost give in, causing you to slightly stumble as you drop to your feet with a light thud. His grip on your waist tightens to steady you before letting go gently.

Ever since the almost kiss, you’d been extra aware of his touches. So even his guiding touches, without any ulterior motives, have been making you feel some type of way.

You slouch slightly as you sit against a wall in the corner, sipping your water. You close your eyes to calm your breathing as you feel your arms burn. You groan as you realise you’re going to be super sore tomorrow morning.

“Good job bub,” he snickers. You open your eyes to see him bend down in front of you to pat your head lightly.

“I give up… you win, you are a ruthless gym partner.”

“Aww… I'm flattered,” he jokes further.

You roll your eyes as you swat his hand away from your head.

“Let me make it up to you, I’ll give you a massage. How about that?” he adds jokingly, though you know he wouldn’t mind actually giving you one if you ask him nicely.

“You better! I’m not going to be able to make dinner tonight!” you reply as you hold your arms out limply in front of him.

“Then don’t. Let me make you dinner,” he says, taking the opportunity.

“For real?” you ask, taken by surprise by his sudden yet tempting offer.

“Yeah? Got any plans for tonight?”

“No… let’s do it. I'm in,” you agree before demanding, “but, I want that massage as well.”

“Done… my massages can put those Thai spas to shame,” he boasts.

“Are you overselling yourself Jaeger?” you tease him, “it’s often disappointing when reality doesn’t match the hype.”

“You’re gonna eat your words later… I’ve been told I’ve got magic fingers.” he retorts, his cocky smirk wider than ever. You roll your eyes as you grab your things before getting up.

“That’s for me to decide,” you poke him further, “... the food better be worth the 7 pull ups.”

Surprisingly he doesn’t have a witty comeback in his arsenal this time. You simply hear a low chuckle escape his lips and it’s somehow more mischievous than whatever clever words he would’ve spoken otherwise.

You’d never been to his place before, meaning it took a few minutes for your brain to register that you were going to Eren fucking Jaeger’s place! In the changing room, you freshen up as much as you can to try to not look like a sweaty mess. You change into a pair of jeans and a jumper, slinging the gym bag over your shoulder before giving yourself one last look in the mirror and walking out to meet him near the entrance of the gym.

As you walk out, you see him waiting for you on his bike, securing the helmet on his head. He’s changed into a pair of loose jeans and a denim jacket over his t-shirt. Even when you’d seen his ride for the first time, Eren being a biker never surprised you since it felt very on-brand for him.

Imagine him picking you up for a date, waiting on his bike with a bouquet of tulips in hand. Ehe.

You snap out of your daydream when he holds out the other helmet in front of you. You lean your head down when he motions you to do so and he puts the helmet on you.

“Where did the second one come from?” you wonder out loud.

“I had planned to take you home tonight from the start,” he winks.

You snort as you slide the visor of his helmet down his face. You hear his laugh as he adds, “Porco let me borrow his, apparently he keeps an extra one in the cabin for god-knows-what.”

“I guess I really might need to call Porco a cupi–” you freeze midway.

“Hmm?”

“A good trainer.” you correct yourself, and you’re pretty sure it was far from convincing but Eren decides not to tease you about it. You’re 99.99% certain he heard it – maybe he just wants to save you the embarrassment, you think to yourself.

You hop onto his bike and hesitantly rest your hands on his sides not wanting to seem awkward by straight up hugging him from behind. However, he straightens his back as he grabs the top of your hands, pulling them to the front to wrap them around his waist. You smile to yourself as you rest your cheek on his back and hug your arms around him steadily.

The ride back to his place is barely 10 minutes long. You miss being so close to him as soon as you get off the bike in the parking lot. He parks and guides you to his apartment holding your wrist gently. It’s not a complete holding-hands-fingers-intertwined but that has never stopped you from overanalyzing things, has it?

You take in your surroundings when you enter the apartment and it doesn’t stand out much. It looks like any normal dude’s apartment, except it’s cleaner – probably more than your own.

“Wow, your apartment is clean,” you comment.

“You’re hurting me babe. Did you expect me to live like a savage just cause I’m a guy.”

“No, no… I’m sorry it came out wrong–” you try to clarify but he interrupts.

“Kidding! I know it’s cleaner than usual. I live with Reiner and Levi… while Reiner and I aren’t really shabby, Levi really can’t tolerate a dirty house,” Eren explains.

“Oh, that must be exhausting, no?”

“Not really. That was Levi’s one condition when Reiner and I went to him in search of a third flatmate so we agreed.”

“Ah, makes sense. Are they here?” you ask, curiously as you hang your bag near the coat rack and take off your shoes. Eren returns to your side, having locked the door and keeping all his things in their designated places.

“Nah. Reiner’s out of town on a work trip for like two weeks and Levi’s gone home for a few days as well,” he answers as he shrugs off his jacket, folding it before placing it on the side table.

You can’t help but find it cute that he keeps the place neat so diligently, being considerate of others… but then again, you’ve been finding all of Eren’s actions cute lately.

“... so it’s just us here tonight.” he says flirtatiously.

“Good thing, I’d hate to share food now… I’m hungry,” you say, dodging it. Usually, you’d flirt back but the two of you being alone at his place suddenly feels so real – anything could happen. You chicken out – there may be a possibility that he likes you back but there could ALSO be a possibility of him only liking you as a friend.

“‘Ight, what would you like to have?” he asks as you follow him to the kitchen.

“Surprise me… nothing too fancy though.”

“Phew… I was actually hoping for that answer since I’d prepared the dough for burger patties,” he admits sheepishly as he washes his hand and puts on the apron. You lean against the opposite counter to let him cook in peace without any hindrance.

“Do you want my hel-”

“OH– just a min,” he interrupts you as he hurries out of the kitchen. You blink in confusion as you follow him out to check on the guy and find him connecting his phone to the speaker.

A soft song plays through the speaker loudly and he walks towards you as if just now he’s truly ready to take on kitchen duties.

“It’s my cooking playlist,” he smiles.

He’s so fucking cute. For fucks sake!

When you ask him again if he wants your help, he declines saying ‘the only thing you need to do tonight is compliment my amazing skills.’

So you watch him work while chatting away about random things. It doesn’t take long for him to prepare the patties and heat the buns, adding copious amounts of veggies with melting cheese on top of it. He presents it with a ‘Tada!’ and you clap at his presentation with a dramatic ‘Bravo!’

When you taste the first bite, you almost moan at how delicious it is. The burger is huge, juicy and has the right balance of crispy and soft with spicy, sweet and sour. You close your eyes, delving into the heavenly taste.

You open your eyes to see Eren devouring his own burger, unfazed by the masterpiece that he’d created as if it were something ordinary to him.

“Eren!” you squeal, “if this is what I get to eat after, I might just do a hundred pull-ups from tomorrow.”

Eren chuckles at this, licking the cheesy sauce that had trickled down his fingers, “Told ya I only brag when I know I’m good.”

“I’m serious! This is too good,” you add, taking another bite.

“I know… thank you,” Eren smiles, clearly amused at the way you’re enjoying his burger. And in that moment, a thought crosses his mind – he’d make you dinner every night if it meant that he got to be the reason for you to feel such bliss.

Neither of you talk much till you finish eating. Your reason being wanting to relish in the taste with full concentration and Eren’s reason being not wanting to disturb your peace.

When you’re done, you clear out the plates and Eren cleans the table. As you’re walking out of the kitchen, you hear a familiar tune playing when he resumes the songs on his playlist.

You recognize it – Dope Lovers by DPR IAN.

“I love this song!” you exclaim as you walk towards him. The tension you’d felt at the beginner has almost dissipated and feeling a little courageous, you extend an arm out to him to dance.

He tosses his phone on the sofa before taking your hand to pull you closer to him. You sway your body to the rhythm as you mumble some of the lyrics.

“Is it the art or the artist that you like?” he teases.

“Well, you can’t deny that he isn’t hot… There’s something about DPR Ian, he’s soooo–” you pause to think about the right word to use before concluding, “– babygurl.”

“Babygurl?” Eren laughs as he rests his arms at your hips, “What does that even mean?”

“It’s like daddy – it’s a state of mind,” you joke but then you purse your lips as you really think about how to explain this endearing slang to Eren, “Babygurl is when a man is so comfortable in his masculinity that he isn't scared of embracing his soft side and being gentle. A man who knows that kindness is strength. Someone who looks so tough but is far from toxic. A man who’s a gentleman in the true sense of the word… does that make sense?”

“Hmm, I think so…” he nods, “Who else is babygurl?”

“You are, Eren,” you smile and lift your hands up to move to his neck but stop when you feel a weird stiffness in your shoulders, “ow, it’s sore already.”

“Okay, let’s give you that massage!” he declares with a booming laugh, taking your hands in his and guiding you to the sofa. He sits you down with your back facing him and gently taps near your lower back to signal you to sit up straight.

“Relax your shoulders,” you hear him speak softly as his hands move up to your shoulders but he pauses his movement. He lifts his hands to comb his fingers through your locks and you jerk slightly when his fingers touch your neck in the process.

“Eren, what are you doin-” you giggle as you turn your head to look at him.

“Shh, stay still,” he murmurs, knitting his eyebrows in concentration. His hair falls down, framing his face as he takes out his hair tie. You turn to look to the front as he runs his fingers to gather all your loose strands together once again. You feel him gently pull at your hair as he secures it with his hair tie.

“You know, you could’ve just asked for mine. It’s in my bag,” you chuckle.

“Too lazy,” he replies as his hands begin to massage your back gently. He alternates between pressing his thumbs down the length of your spine and pressing his palms flat to cover the entire area, sliding his hands down in slow pressured movements. You slouch in his touch and his hands move up to your shoulder blades to massage the area in circular motion.

“Mmm, Eren– that feels so good,” you breathe out, skin feeling like wax that could melt into his hands at any moment. You’re certain you’d fall asleep in a few minutes if he continued doing this any longer.

Eren changes his movement to bring up his fingertips to your nape, dragging them gently over the expanse of your neck, his fingers dancing over your skin as he dips them under the collar to trace your skin. This causes you to let out an involuntary whimper and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment when his touch comes to a halt.

You’re pretty sure he can see the goosebumps pricking on the surface of your skin and you mumble a soft ‘sorry’ as you create some space between to turn around to face him completely. Your eyes meet and you’re smiling at him awkwardly but he has a poker face.

He gets up abruptly, breaking eye contact as he hurries towards the kitchen. You look at him, confused and are about to ask him why he was acting that way but he speaks up before you do.

“Want anything to drink? Something sweet for dessert?”

“Umm… okay,” you mutter, still confused.

“Anything specific?” he enquires.

“I wouldn’t mind a cup of hot coffee,” you request, smiling as you abandon your previous thought.

“Coffee? At night?” he counters, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’s my talent. I can sleep like a baby no matter how strong the coffee is.”

“Hmmm… Would you like to try the Eren Jaeger Special where I mix loads of chocolate with coffee and cream?”

“So, basically a mocha?” you press your lips together to keep yourself from laughing.

“Yes or no?” he says with narrowed eyes.

“Yes,” you laugh and he rolls his eyes as he turns around, disappearing into the kitchen.

You’re scrolling through your phone when you hear his approaching footsteps after a few minutes. You close your phone as you turn your head to look up at him as he walks towards you with two steaming mugs in hand.

As soon as he places one of the mugs on the table, you pick it up instantly. He sits down in front of you to clink your mugs together with a ‘cheers’. You both take tiny sips together and your eyes widen at the frothy sweet and bitter taste.

“If you get me addicted, you’ll have to be the one to meet the demands too, just sayinggg…'' you blow over the surface and take another sip.

“Yes ma’am, I’d gladly oblige to all of your demands,” he winks before taking another sip from his mug. You try to hide your growing smile with your mug. For the rest of the conversation you try to change the subject from the two of you to literally anything else you can find – and Eren being the great conversationalist that he is, is talking about each topic just as enthusiastically.

“Aww man, the last of the coffee’s gone cold.” you swirl the liquid in the mug.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Eren fake yells, already having finished his. You raise one fist up as you gulp the last of your coffee down in one go and slam the mug down on the cushion. Feeling the frothy stache over your upper lip, you lick it off, laughing along with him.

“There’s still some left…” Eren mumbles, pointing at his own mouth to show the spot. Before you have a chance to wipe it, he swipes his thumb over the corner of your lips before bringing it to his lips to lick it off. It’s such a simple act yet it has the butterflies in your stomach going rampant.

“Hey, that was mine,” you try to feign offence but it comes out more desperate than you’d intended as you stare at his lips a little too longer than friends are supposed to.

He cups your face with both his hands as his gaze deepens before his eyes move down to your lips. Your breath hitches as you see him instinctively wet his lips. He leans in to move closer till your faces are just inches away.

“Then take it back agai–” he’s rudely interrupted by the sound of the front door opening with a loud thud. You pull back abruptly to create some space between the two of you. You see Eren’s jaw clench as he closes his eyes briefly in an attempt to keep his cool.

“REINER MY BROTHER– oh,” you see a man enter the living room with a large backpack.

“Jean.” Eren says, giving him a tight lipped smile.

“Eren. Where’s Reiner?” Jean asks as he looks at the two of you.

“Did he not tell you that he wasn’t gonna be at home for a while?” Eren answers, and you’re almost surprised at how cold his tone is.

“Yes? But I figured he'd leave after seeing me?” Jean retorts.

“And why would he do that?” Eren asks just as coldly.

“Since he said I was welcome to stay in his room while I was in town? Even told me to use the key y'all keep in the space behind the nameplate,” the man explains.

“Great! It's amazing how my roommate fails to tell me about shit like this.” Eren mutters but smiles at the guy nonetheless, “His room is unlocked… feel free to make yourself at home I guess.”

“Thanks. Have fun, I guess,” Jean half salutes Eren, giving you both a smug smile, feeling the satisfaction of having cockblocked his friendly foe. He leaves you two alone, making his way to Reiner’s room. Once you watch him disappear, you turn to check your phone for the time.

This time it was real! You’re not delusional, he really was about to kiss you!

You silence the voice in your head. You don’t know how to feel about the fact that Eren seemingly likes you but he can’t seem to make a move or at least declare his feelings with certainty. And there’s no way in hell you’d confess first since it’s pretty evident you like him, you’ve dropped enough hints over a month’s time – you want him to be the one to do it first.

“It’s late, I better get going,” you make an excuse as you stand up, gathering your things as you prepare to leave. Your cheeks feel hot and you give him a small smile, feeling a bit too flustered to carry on a conversation at this point.

“Let me drop you home,” he offers quickly as he stands up with you.

“My apartment isn’t far from here.”

“It's late,” he adds. You consider it and nod your head. He smiles as he grabs his keys along with his own two helmets this time.

The ride home is quick so neither of you bother with small talk. Once he parks in the parking lot of your apartment building, he tilts his bike to make it easier for you to get off. He gets off the bike, gently taking your helmet off and placing it on the bike. As you fix your hair, he takes his helmet off as well, placing it next to yours.

You slightly shuffle on your feet as you prepare to say your goodbyes. When he turns back to look at you, you smile earnestly.

“I had a fun time tonight… despite you being a meanie at the gym.” you try to lighten up the tension.

“Only for you bub,” he jokes back, making finger-hearts at you.

“Good night, Eren.” you laugh as you wave at him and turn to walk away. You barely take a step when you hear him say your name.

“Hmm?” you turn around to look at him again. He doesn’t speak but takes one long stride to close the distance between you, wrapping his hands around your waist. As if on instinct, you drop your bag to the ground and place your hands on his shoulders, looking up at him as your breath hitches in your throat again.

He brings his left hand up to your cheek, dipping his head down to kiss your lips without any further delay. His wider frame envelopes yours as the hand on your cheek snakes back to hold your head in place as he deepens the kiss. You wrap both your hands around his neck, standing on your tippy toes for better access while his lower hand wraps around your waist even tighter.

When your lips finally part to catch your breaths, he looks you in the eye, smiling contently. Your legs feel giddy from the high you’re experiencing and you’re glad he’s still holding you flush against his body.

“I’d been dying to do that ever since I laid my eyes on you… figured it’d be pretty stupid of me to let the opportunity go twice in a row,” he confesses, dipping his head down again to kiss you once again.

You’re surprised, your brain reeling at the information but you close your eyes nonetheless, getting lost in the feeling of his lips moving against yours.

“Yeah, it would’ve been pretty stupid,” you smile when he pulls back. You pull him down by the collar to give him a kiss on his cheek, “Thank you for not wasting any more chances.”

You run your hands through his loose strands and he hums as he closes his eyes. You pull him down for another deep kiss. His tongue invades your mouth and he squeezes your ass as he pulls your body further closer to his. When you feel his boner from under his clothing, it causes you to moan into the kiss.

Your hands move down his sides, lowering further but he stops your movement with his own hands holding your wrists firmly. He pulls away from the kiss, eyes still closed as he rests his forehead against yours. His hot breath fans your face as he speaks, “It’s taking everything in me to not come up to your place to fuck you right now.”

“Then do it,” you mewl desperately as you kiss him again. He smiles into the kiss but breaks it once again to speak, “No, I wanna do this right. Let me take you out on a real date first… tomorrow evening?”

You feel your cheeks burn up as you bite your bottom lip to contain the grin threatening to give away your excitement as you nod. You stand on your toes once again to give him a quick peck. He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, enveloping you into a comforting hug.

“Take this with you,” he mumbles as he goes to grab a helmet. He leans down to grab your bag from the floor, handing both the items to you.

“Good night Eren,” you smile. He cups your face with both his hands and leans down to kiss you again – it’s brief but passionate.

“Good night baby,” he smiles as he lightly smacks your ass, earning a yelp from you. Before you can scold him, he gives you a hasty kiss before making his way to his bike. You walk to the elevator and press the button, turning to look back at him as he secures his helmet.

He starts the bike but waits till he sees you enter the elevator. Just as the door closes, you catch a glimpse of him leaving. You lean back against the railing, covering your face with your hands, not really believing what had just occurred.

The man you’d been pining over for months had been crushing over you all along too.

Eren Jaeger never was just another unrequited crush – and come tomorrow, he’s going to mean a lot more than just a friend.

#erensbirdie #aot x reader #aot x you #aot #aot smut #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren x reader #eren yeager #eren jaeger

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sometimesanalice · 1 year

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Like I Can (Part 1)

Summary: After yet another bad date and tired of swiping on apps, the Dagger Squad steps in to help you out by setting you up on a series of blind dates. Much to Rooster’s dismay.

Warnings: fuff, slight angst. Minors DNI

Length: 3.2K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

Part 2

(We’re kicking of Valentine’s Day a bit early❣️ Enjoy!)

“I’m all for growing the sport, but Brady buying an MLP team is ruining the integrity of the league. He may be the GOAT of football, but he has nothing on Ben John’s world-class pickleball game,” your date Max passionately states from his spot across from you at the Italian place he had recommended.

Or was his name Mac?

He’d already told you all about the CRBN paddle drama. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had already prepared a PowerPoint presentation on the topic complete with transitions and color-coded charts. He seems the type.

And he had yet to ask you a single question about yourself all evening.

You can tell he is gearing up for the next part of his rant, when your phone lights up on the table, the ringer on higher than you realized.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I thought I had this on silent. It’s my mom, I should probably take this,” you apologize to him, your phone already halfway raised to your ear.

“Hey, kid, how’s it going?”

“Hi Mom, I’m with someone right now. Is everything ok?” You let a little worry tinge the tone of your voice.

“Seriously?” Rooster drolly rasps on the other end of the line, “Are we actually doing this?”

“Oh no! Is she alright?” You wouldn’t consider yourself actress, but you think you’re really selling the performance with the way you widen your eyes and how you make your voice go a little tighter and higher.

“Yup, seems like we’re really doing this. What’s it this time, kid? Did grandma slip on a banana peel and then get run over by a reindeer?” You can practically feel his eyes rolling as he begrudgingly goes along with you.

“Oh my goodness, that sounds serious! How would that even happen?” you ask, shaking your head in in faux shock determined to really sell the act.

“Is everything ok?” Max-Mac whispers to you from across the table.

His profile didn’t raise any red flags when you’d swiped on him. If anything, he’d seemed a bit more of the beige flag type. Your chats had been fine, he seemed fine, so why not meet up for a date?

What you didn’t realize until it was too late was that “Sports Enthusiast” actually translated to “Pickleball Fanatic”.

“Hold on, Mom,” you hear Rooster scoff as you pull the phone away from your ear. “I’m so sorry, there’s been a family emergency. It’s my grandmother. I really need to go,” you announce to Mac-Max grabbing your purse from the back of the chair. “Thank you so much for understanding. And good luck at your pickleball tournament!” you call back to him as you hustle towards the front door.

“I take it you’ve made your escape?” You can hear the humor in his voice, your antics are nothing new to him.

“Oh my god, was that seriously only thirty minutes? He wouldn’t stop talking about pickleball, Rooster. Anytime I tried to change the subject, he found a way to circle right back to it!” You tell him as you attempt to dig your keys out from where they were buried in your bag. “And then, he pulled up the leg of his jeans and said, I kid you not: ‘Don’t worry, this isn’t an ankle monitor, I’m just wearing my ankle weights.’ Who does that?”

“Just come to the Hard Deck. You should have canceled like I told you to in the first place. Bob and Coyote got back the other day, so everyone’s here. Well, almost everyone,” he says pointedly. “We’re more fun anyways. And Hangman has been harassing me about you, something about your fluke of a win?”

You’d kicked Jake’s ass the last time you played darts with him. Although in his defense, he had been pretty drunk that night and it was a less than fair game since Phoenix would distract him while Fanboy moved your darts on the board.

You wouldn’t be challenging him to a rematch anytime soon. Not unless the odds were in your favor, it was better to keep him on his toes and his ego in check.

Thankful for the princess parking you managed to snag when you first arrived, you unlock your car and toss your bag into the passenger seat before climbing in. Breathing out a sigh of relief to be done with Mac-Max once inside.

“You back in your car yet?” Rooster asked. He was such a worrier, but you can’t say it bothered you. You liked knowing he cared.

“Yeah, just got in.”

“Ok good, see you in a few. Drive safe, kid.”

Thirty minutes later Natasha was sliding a cold, frothy pint in front of you with a sympathetic look.

It wasn’t too busy at the Hard Deck yet, but it was still early in the evening. You knew it would pick up soon, and before long Penny would be ringing her bell on some rowdy unsuspecting customer.

“Ankle weights?” She asked, trying and failing to keep from laughing at your expense.

“Seriously, Rooster?” you shoot a glare in his direction, “Where’s the loyalty?”

“What? She was right there when I called you. A request that was your idea, if you remember,” he said as he walked up to you, squeezing your shoulder before sliding his arm around you in greeting. “Plus, it’s not like you don’t already tell Phoenix about all your escapades. You really know how to pick ‘em, kid.”

You’ve known Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw since before you had braces back when you were still wearing your hair in two braids. Your moms had been on the school PTA together at the time and had hit it off immediately.

He hadn’t been too happy about being forced to hang out with the kid who was couple years younger than him, especially one who was so clearly enamored with the cute older boy. While you’d outgrown that phase, for the most part, somethings stuck- like the nickname.

And over the years you’d formed your own bond outside of the forced proximity of your mothers’ friendship.

He’d taught you how to throw a punch, the different ways to pitch a baseball, and to drive a stick shift. You’d taught him how to whistle with his fingers, to play Nerts, and to tie a tie (after asking your dad to teach you).

The give and take was easy with him, you both showed up for the other.

You were there the night he drunkenly fell through the glass patio door at Jason Cameron’s homecoming party. As one of the only sober people there since he wouldn’t let you drink, or let anyone else give you alcohol for that matter, you were the one to take him to the ER. “Don’t worry, kid,” he had slurred, pressing the Washington High t-shirt that you’d found in your trunk to his face to stop the bleeding, “Looks s’worse than it feels.” And you were the one to stay with him as he was stitched up. The evidence of that night still unmistakable on his face.

He was there for you when your parents had sat you down and told you they were getting a divorce. A hurricane of angst and grief, you hadn’t left your room for anything other than school for over a week when he’d let himself in your room one afternoon. Rubbing small circles on your back as he’d let you cry for a bit, he didn’t even tease you about the stains you’d left behind on his shirt. And then he’d herded you into his crappy car and drove you to the slightly sketchy amusement park an hour away with the Tilt-A-Whirl and the giant corndogs. And when he’d told you “It’s going to be ok, kid” on the ride back home, you believed him.

You had been there for him when his mom passed, and all during that dark period after when he was set on self-destruction after his fallout with Maverick. While he had tried to push everyone away, you were always the type to hold on tightly to the people that mattered.

And then life had sent you on different directions. First when he went to college and then when you did. Next for him the Navy, and then you with your own career, both of you always in motion. You two shared a connection the way people with a long history do, the kind where you could go months without talking but knowing the other person is always right there if you need them. Your camaraderie sustained by texts, email, and the occasional FaceTime.

A long-distance friendship for over a decade.

So when your boss had approached you about a promotion that was dependent on you relocating to the West Coast, you thanked whatever kismet in the universe had you packing for San Diego where he was permanently stationed.

The break up with your boyfriend at the time was entirely too amicable considering how long you had been together. He was nice, the sex was nice, your life together was nice. You had all but signed the paperwork for your promotion when you told him, but he didn’t see himself as a west-coaster and you couldn’t envision yourself as anything but. Whether you had stayed together all that time out of convenience or complacency, you still couldn’t say.

It was easy to fall back into the comfort of your friendship with Rooster. Although the lanky teen you had known was replaced with a mustache sporting well-built man courtesy of the Navy. One that had left you feeling confusingly flustered on more than one occasion, and forced to cycle through your mental highlight reel of embarrassing teen Rooster moments to keep from your mind from wandering.

He’d helped you find your apartment, taught you about avoiding the 15 Northbound, and showed you where the best place in town to get tacos was. The transition was made easy with him by your side as he introduced you to his team members who quickly folded you into their group as one of their own.

That was a little over a year ago. You liked this new life of yours in San Diego.

And while the dating pool of men you could swipe through was much larger, well, some things never changed.

“You don’t get it, Rooster. You’re surrounded by absurdly hot Naval eye candy all day,” you complained gesturing to Natasha, she raised her beer to you as thanks in response. “While you’re getting women throwing themselves at you because of the gold wings, I’m fighting for my life on these stupid apps where all the men on there are posing with fish. It’s brutal!”

You’d need to officially call things off with Max-Mac later, thinking to yourself how glad you were that you never gave him your real number, and instead signing up for a Google voice number. You were just not cut out for the competitive pickleball lifestyle.

“Bradshaw, why don’t you set her up? It’s not like we don’t know enough people who would be better options than these fish men,” Natasha asked, like it was the most logical thing in the world, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, Bradshaw. Tell Nat your super logical reasons for leaving your longtime friend to fend for herself.” You knew where this was heading, so you took a long swig of the beer Phoenix had brought you.

“Seriously, not this again.” His arm that was around you was removed in favor for pinching the bridge of his nose and looking up to the ceiling like it would spare him from the conversation.

“You started it, now tell her.”

“I need another damn drink if we’re going to do this,” Rooster mumbled.

“Me too,” chimed Natasha, clearly reveling in his misery.

“Make that three. I need to catch up.” You hadn’t even stuck around long enough to get a drink at the restaurant, and now you were ready to let loose a bit.

He grunts out some unintelligible thing and then stalks off to the bar shaking his head.

“I’m an upstanding citizen, I pay my taxes, I make a mean peanut butter brownie, and I always drive him around when the Bronco is in the shop for a tune up. It’s literally the least he could do,” you say to Phoenix as you watch him chat with Penny as she works to grab the fresh bottles.

“Oh, so this is thing,” Natasha says decidedly when she eyes the six beers he’s carrying back to the table, three bottles held by the neck in each of his large hands. His classic Hawaiian shirt fluttering with every step, your eyes briefly drifting down to his defined waist.

“Sure is,” you confirm, drawing out the word. Downing the rest of the beer from your pint glass before reaching for one of the new bottles Rooster was divvying out amongst your trio, “I’ve never asked him for anything-”

“That is a boldfaced lie. And you know it,” he cuts in, as he hands you a granola bar from his pocket, that he must have snagged from Penny. “You definitely asked me to set you up with Kyle Cooke from my baseball team in high school. I didn’t do it then, and I’m not doing it now,” he declared, pointing at you with an accusatory finger to further drive the statement home.

“Reasons being?” Natasha wheedled, a mischievous smirk on her face. You could tell she was eating this up, there were two things Natasha Trace loved most in this world: juicy gossip and giving Rooster a hard time.

Ever the showman, he dramatically lifts up a finger, “First of all, everyone I know is an asshole.”

“I am offended on Bob’s behalf,” you countered, unwrapping the bar and taking a bite, annoyed. Hangman might fit the description, but certainly not Bob.

“Two,” he continues on, raising a second finger, and ignoring you completely as if you hadn’t just made a very valid point, “Let’s say I set you with a friend and then you end up hating them. Then you’ll judge me for being friends with them, we’ll argue, and eventually we won’t be friends anymore. Or even worse, I set you up with someone, you hit it off and date for a while. What happens when you break up? I’m left having to pick sides and walk on eggshells around you guys about the other person.”

“God, you’re such a overthinker. That all sounds totally rational, you drama queen,” you look to Phoenix for agreement, but she’s busy typing out a text message on her phone.

“And three, it’s messy as fuck. And I don’t need to hear about your trophy of a one-night stand.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes, “That was one time! It wasn’t a trophy it was a gold medal.”

“Wait, what?” Confusion coloring Natasha’s features.

“One time this guy gave me one of those plastic gold medal things on a lanyard, kind of like the ones they give out at kids soccer games, after we hooked up. I mean, kicked him out right away, but I did keep the medal. It was a good confidence boost,” you shrug. It wasn’t exactly a high point moment for you.

After that encounter you’d definitely started scrutinizing every profile a bit harder before swiping right, or at least you thought you had been. In your defense, at least Max-Mac’s profile didn’t have a fish photo, but the bar was still clearly on the ground.

“I knew you when you wore those shirts with that big mouthed monkey on them. And that’s the kind of shit I don’t need to know about. I don’t wanna be involved. Not gonna happen, kid,” his declaration resolute.

“Well, that sure is something, Bradshaw,” Natasha states, giving him a curious look.

“What are y’all over here discussing so intently,” Hangman questions as he saddles up to your little group, tucking his phone into his pocket.

“We were just getting into the finer details of the kid’s dating life and how I am going to fix it by setting her up with this great guy I know,” she pronounces, looking all too pleased with herself. A truly self-satisfied grin gracing her face.

Natasha Trace was probably the most bad ass person you’ve ever met, so the idea of her setting you up with someone had you sitting up straighter on the stool you were seated on, “Really?”

“Who?” Rooster demands, frowning at her.

“Yeah, I mean Bradshaw clearly has his convictions, and I respect that. However, I’m an excellent wing-woman. Seriously, I don’t know why I haven’t thought about introducing you guys before. You two would be perfect together.”

Hangman never one to miss an opportunity to rile up Rooster is quick to jump in, “Just because you fly in a two-seater doesn’t make you a good wing-woman, Phoenix. However, now that you mention it, I have a buddy who might knock your socks off. Unless you’d rather just knock boots, I’m sure he’d be up for whatever you wanted,” he shooting you a wink. “I think I’ll toss my name in the ring here too. After all, I’m very good.”

“You want to make it a bet, Bagman?” Her accent always got a little more pronounced when she went toe to toe with him.

“What’re you thinkin’, Darlin’?” he drawls suggestively with a sharp smile. That ever-present toothpick being rolled in his mouth from side to side.

“You guys are not going to be making bets around the kid’s love life,” Rooster snaps.

“The big dogs are talking, Bradshaw,” Hangman taunts as he waves him off.

“$50 entry? The dates happen here and at the end the kid picks which date was the best. Winner takes all?” You can see the competitive gleam in her eye.

“Alright, alright. Works for me, Phoenix. I can’t wait to take your money.”

“The hell you are,” Rooster barks, still trying to regain control of the quickly spiraling situation.

Well, this had certainly taken a turn.

You find yourself reaching for your third beer of the night.

And you’re even more surprised when Hangman hollers for the rest of the team to join, and before you know it your dating life takes centerstage as the subject of the bet between the group of competitive naval aviators. Many of the others deciding to join in, never ones to shy away from a bit of rivalry.

“What do you say? You up for it?” Natasha asks, wanting to make sure you were still on board now that her original offer had taken on a life of its own.

You look over and see Rooster looking at you like you’d be crazy to get involved in their kind of chaos. You know he can already tell what your answer will be.

“Why not?” you agree cheerily as he groans into his beer.

At least you would be spared from swiping for a while. It’s what you deserve, you are an upstanding citizen after all.

Get ready for some dates! Part 2

Written as part of @roosterforme’s #Love Is In The Air TGM Fic Challenge!

Song Inspiration Sam Smith’s “Like I Can”.

Thank you Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for letting me bounce ideas off of you!

Edit: I’ve started a tag list for Part 2! Just let me know if you’d like to be added!

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #love is in the air tgm #like i can tgm

3K notes · View notes

rrxnjun · 1 year

Text

potential • z. chenle

pairing. zhong chenle x fem! reader genre. rich kids au, childhood friends au, friends with benefits au. angst, fluff, suggestive. word count. 20k (20.079) warnings. alcohol consumption, swearing, mentions of sexual activity, sexual innuendos, a heavy make out session or two, use of lyrics from ariana grande and sarah close and masking them as my own words a/n. why do we call it a rich kid chenle au when he's a rich kid irl. anyways for the fact that this was one of the most spontaneous fics ive ever written it sure did take a lot of time to execute. took a lot of inspo for the lifestyle from the sky castle kdrama so if its not accurate dont @ me bc ive never been rich LMAO

playlist. in my head – ariana grande ; successful – ariana grande ; nonsense – sabrina carpenter ; supermodel – måneskin ; that's what i like – bruno mars

You saw his potential without seeing credentials. And maybe that's the issue.

August 28, 2020 – somewhere in the Bali sea, 1:27 AM

The music is loud. The weather is humid.

Wrapping up the summer before your senior year, dancing around in the bar of the cruise ship in the middle of the ocean, one last stop before your 28-day cruise around Southeast Asia is over, the loud music from the bar rings in your ears as you dance around, a glass of expensive Mendis coconut Brandy swirling in your hold. The taste of the alcohol on your tongue burns, not quite used to the burning sensation in your mouth– this is one of the first times you’re drinking, since your parents were always big on prestige and acting classy. Your parents went to sleep, though– excited to explore Benoa tomorrow, to immerse themselves in nature and explore Bali’s temples and heritage. You, on the other hand, took this as an opportunity to party– accompanied by none other than your parents’ friend’s son, who grew into the position of your childhood best friend solely because his and your family have always been close, choosing to spend vacations together; a relationship that was mostly fueled by the immediate closeness of you two during the summer breaks and ski trips to Swiss Alps every January.

And while you’re no stranger to pearls, charity events in your parents’ mansion in Hong Kong, golf courses in Miami and fashion shows in Milan, growing up in the world of designer bags and prestigious titles, you feel quite stranded in the middle of the sweaty teenagers, all of them with the same social status as you, drinking expensive alcohol and swinging your hips to the EDM music playing through the speakers. It almost feels like this is the first time you’re able to enjoy yourself without anyone’s supervision, screaming at the top of your lungs into Zhong Chenle’s face as he laughs at you on the dance floor, and truth be told, you could care less about the pictures you’re going to take for your Instagram tomorrow, showing everyone just how good you��re doing and how much fun you’re having on your lengthy cruises around the continent, because somehow, even though the bar is clothed in gold and you feel a bit like in The great Gatsby, this feels like the least pressuring part of the whole trip.

“We should go to parties more often!” you scream into Chenle’s ear, taking a sip of your Brandy as you twirl yourself around him, the straps of your sparkly spaghetti-strap tiny top falling off your shoulders in a moment of carelessness, your thoughts somewhere completely else. You may be 19 years old and insanely wealthy, but that still doesn’t mean you are experienced in the art of partying– quite the opposite, actually, having to always seem cultivated and presenting yourself in a way that would suggest that your family is high on prestige and recognition– so to finally be surrounded by people your age, dancing along to the music and jumping up as you all chant the lyrics to Barbie girl by Aqua (how ironic) feels quite ecstatic.

“Like our parents would let us,” Chenle rolls his eyes, lips almost pressed against the shell of your ear as he makes sure to get close enough for you to hear him.

Sighing at his argument– knowing he’s absolutely right, but also hating the fact that he had to ruin your mood by stating it out loud– you shake your head as you down the last bits of your drink, putting the heavy glass onto the tray of a waiter that’s passing by to gather the rest of the empty ones scattered across the shiny tables in the corner of the room. Your brain is starting to get a little fuzzy and you can’t help the giggling escaping out of your throat whenever your eyes meet Chenle’s, the flush on the boy’s cheeks hinting at the fact that he’s not any better at handling his alcohol than you, having just as much experience in heavy drinking and partying as you do.

You’re only 19 years old and you don’t know a lot about the world. After all, you were brought up in a family that always did everything for you– you never had to move a single finger. You never even had to clean your room, because your parents had people that would come by every morning while you were in school, just so you could arrive home to a tidy place when you were done with your lectures. You went to a private school, so you were always surrounded by people with a status similar to yours. You spoke about your tutoring classes that cost more than groceries for a middle-class family a week, you talked about your trips abroad, and if you had time, you even went shopping with your classmates after school before your driver picked you up and drove you back into the suburbs; your neighborhood guarded by a gate, the asphalt behind it so much smoother than it is in the rest of the town.

You never got to experience partying like this– only gaping with an open mouth when you saw those scenes in the movies you watched on Netflix in your own private movie room. And if you’re being totally honest, you never imagined enjoying such a thing. You never had the experience, so you didn’t really yearn for it, but now that you’re here, surrounded by loud music, experiencing the weird emotional feeling that comes with being in a crowd screaming in joy at the same time first-hand on your own skin, you don’t think you’ll be able to go back to how you were before.

This is not how rich kids party. At least not when their parents are around.

“You’re gonna be hungover tomorrow morning,” Chenle mutters into your ear when your eyes light up at the sight of more alcohol, contemplating on getting another drink, just because.

“And you’re not?” you tease him, pointing to his glossy eyes and lazy walk, his legs tangling with each other every few seconds from the haze he’s been put in just by having a few drinks. The sight is quite funny– the ever-so composed millionaire son is now a troubled mess in your eyes; one wrong step and he could ruin the image his family has spent years to build up, but it doesn’t seem like either of you care, tripping over your feet and lounging at each other in the middle of the dance floor.

Feeling like you’re playing a dangerous game, hanging off his neck and swaying your hips to the rhythmic beat, you gape into his blown-out eyes and desperately try to get your brain straight. The more you drank and the more you spent time in Chenle’s close proximity, the less you were able to control your emotions and the weird thoughts in your brain that have been slowly eating up all your notions for quite some time now. Gaping at his plump lips and feeling his palms burning at your hips, his fingers ever-so-slightly hovering above the curve of your ass, you’re finding it hard to concentrate on the music or on the words spilling off his tongue, his voice never shutting up even in the loud bar. You always told him he talks too much, but he doesn’t seem to mind– he seems to actually take much pride in his annoying tendencies, talking your ear off on multiple occasions even when you tell him he should probably stay quiet for at least a minute, so your brain could recharge.

Truth be told, you listen to him most of the time anyway. He always talks and you always listen, rolling your eyes at the snarky parts and giggling at the jokes; so the fact that you suddenly can’t focus and just desperately want him to shut the fuck up must be the effect of all the alcohol you’ve been drinking tonight.

And your next step might as well be the main consequence of the coconut Brandy as well– because even though you’ve been dreaming of his plump lips on yours for quite some time now, you’ve never actually dared to act up on the desire. But your intention to make him go quiet seems to be working when the train of words stammering out of his mouth is cut off, a surprised noise trailing out of his throat when you kiss him on the dance floor; and to your surprise, he doesn’t seem to mind your weird sign of protest to his endless talking– quite the opposite, really, as he lets you take the lead and taste the mix of alcohol in the Long Island cocktails he’s been drinking the whole night off his tongue, your hands mindlessly trailing up to thread themselves into his hair.

This is not your first time kissing a boy– you once pecked Song Eunseok on the lips when the two of you sneaked out of class one day in 9th grade– but you never once kissed anyone with such passion and desire before. You’re not sure where you got all the courage from and you’re also not sure where you learned all of this– but it must be working, with how heavily Chenle’s breathing when you finally let go of his lips and he rests his forehead against yours. In no time, he’s chasing you down again, drunk not only on the alcohol now as he tilts his head to get closer, one hand resting on the side of your neck, just a few inches below your jaw, keeping you in place.

“You should learn how to shut up,” you mumble against his lips, breathing heavy as you break away from him again and open your eyes to meet your gaze with his. The music is still loud in your ears, but you swear you hear a static noise somewhere in your brain, a tingle in your fingertips making you feel like you’re about to have an out-of-body experience. Your drunken brain is not allowing you to ponder about your actions that much, not letting you think and contemplate the fact that you just made out with your childhood best friend on one of the most expensive cruise ships, drinking alcohol you weren’t supposed to spend so much money on, and maybe that’s a good thing– because there’s nothing stopping you in having the time of your life, no overthinking making you doubt your next steps and no feeling of shame or regret making the whole experience bitter as you dance pressed against your companion, letting him press short, yet daring kisses to your lips as time passes.

“I think I’m good,” he snickers, when the music suddenly cuts out, an announcer telling you that the bar closes at 2 AM and that this song is the last for the night.

Sighing in disappointment– because who even knows when the next time you’ll have this opportunity will come– you let Chenle lead you out of the bar, his hand glued around your exposed waist. Your walk is a little loop-sided and you two almost smash into the glass door (doesn’t matter that it’s automatic and it quite literally opened in front of your figures). Soon enough, you’re met with the golden interior of the cruise walls again, the design a little vintage, yet still luxurious, reminding you of the movie Titanic. Tripping over the doorsteps, hands getting caught on the red, velvety curtains hung around, you giggle at every word that comes out of Chenle’s mouth, bodies slowly, but surely getting closer and closer to your suite bedrooms. You’re quite sure your parents could hear you talking outside in the hall, but you choose to not ponder on what they would think of you if they saw you in this state too much, instead making yourself believe that they’re long asleep and won’t be woken up by your voices resonating through the quiet space.

“So I guess this is where we say goodnight?” you mumble, hanging off Chenle’s neck. His breath smells of the vodka-tequila mix when he hovers over you, bodies off-balance pressed against the cold wall just outside of your bedroom. Flashing you a grin, face looking close to a cheshire cat, he nudges your nose with his, a quiet hum landing to your ear, not heard by anyone.

“Or we could stay up a little longer.”

Squirming under his touch, his lips softly, yet still a little uncoordinatedly landing on yours, you waste no time in unlocking the door to your room– even though you have a bit of trouble with finding the key in your small purse, even surprised you haven’t lost the bag somewhere in the middle of the night– letting your childhood friend in to your space at the suggestion, your clothed bodies falling to the soft cushions of the water bed.

You’re only 19 and don’t know much about the world when you messily undress yourself under your friend’s eyes, blinded by the glints in his deep chocolate orbs when he looks at you from above and attacks your neck with kisses. And you usually don’t regret much, considering yourself a responsible individual, always rethinking everything and making sure it’s the right choice, but when you look back at this day now, you don’t really know if sleeping with Zhong Chenle on a cruise around Southeast Asia was the brightest idea of yours, considering the mental turmoil it’s gonna cause you on the way.

Well, at least you can say you lost your virginity somewhere in the middle of the Bali sea, and at least that’s something to boost your ego with, am I right…?

July 12, 2007 – Tokyo DisneySea, 2:21 PM

If anyone asked you for your favorite childhood memory, you wouldn’t have a hard time picking one. Sure, one would think you have too many pleasant memories to choose from, so realistically, you should take more time to pick and weigh the value of each one, contemplating if the trip to Rome was a happier memory than the summer you spent in Los Angeles when you were 10, but you are 100%, completely in tune with the fact that if anyone ever asked you this very question, the words falling off their tongue with interest and enthusiasm, no judgment and no hidden intentions behind their question, you’d have an answer ready with a smile on your face.

You don’t hold much emotion to your past memories. You’ve been on more vacations than you can both count and remember growing up, and so even though you do think the pictures you took in Italy came out good and your skin glistens prettily in the warm sun, even though you do think you experienced a lot of fun while going to the Target for the first time with your nanny– the woman your mum hired just because your parents were too busy with their business meetings the whole time you walked the streets of Los Angeles with the new woman you were supposed to trust with your life at the ripe age of 10– you wouldn’t say any of those memories are as close to your heart as the trip you took to Japan with the Zhong family when you were 6, the summer before attending first grade.

This was the year you and Chenle watched the Pirates of the Caribbean together for the first time, and even though it wasn’t in the initial plan, you two spent hours and hours and hours of the flight persuading your parents to take you to Tokyo Disneyland, because you heard from his cousin Yizhuo that you could meet Jack Sparrow if you went. While your plan didn’t exactly work and the two of you didn’t get to go to the large theme park– because your parents were busy, mostly traveling because of business and so they didn’t have the time to arrange it, the amount of sulking you two did when you arrived to the rented house in the expensive part of Tokyo to the teenager that was supposed to watch you two for the time being was enough for him to take you two on a short train ride to the twin of the famous theme park– the Tokyo DisneySea.

The 15-minute train ride you three took to the theme park was your first, and also last time you ever rode such a mean of transport. All you were used to were expensive sports cars and limousines– you never imagined that people took such transport even every single day, at times. You and Chenle were so immersed in the journey that it was hard for your babysitter to get you out of the train, your small, excited bodies almost tripping over your own little feet as the raven-haired boy dragged you through the streets of Maihama station.

You could see the towers of the park and you could smell the salt from the sea even from a distance. The whole atmosphere felt magical, giggles often erupting out of your throat as Yuta– the boy your parents hired to watch over you for the day– bought a bubble blower from one of the stands and blew out bubbles you two chased around and tried to pop before they got to the ground. There were no expensive cars in sight, no people dressed in suits and designer shoes– well, except from the two of you, but you couldn’t quite grasp the idea of how much your attire cost at that age yet– and you felt truly, insanely happy. The adults that always watched you when your parents went to business meetings were stern and serious, never letting you have much fun, but today was different, and you find yourself wondering why your parents even let you be babysat by a reckless teenager in the first place. He was 16 at the time– 10 years older than the both of you– and when you look back at the day now, you think it was the time pressure that brought your parents into hiring him. You bet they paid him a lot of money, hell, you bet they even lended him a credit card he could use to entertain you two for the whole afternoon, and even though you found him using it a few times, you didn’t think he spent just as much as all your previous babysitters did.

Not that you knew the value of money back then, after all. Maybe the fact that you couldn’t tell how much money everything was worth back then is what truly made the whole day so carefree and happy for you.

You were children of wealthy Chinese business owners. You always had everything they saw in your eyes– you didn’t even have to say it out loud and it was held up to you on a silver platter. This day, though, you didn’t even have to use that much money– if you truly compare it to other vacations your families have been to– and you can’t help but think it’s ironic how despite this fact, this day is still your favorite childhood memory.

The Tokyo DisneySea was catered to a more mature audience– even serving alcohol in the premises, a thing no other Disneyland does– but even though you were just 6 and couldn’t drink and there was no Jack Sparrow waiting for you in the streets of the theme park, you and Chenle had a blast. Maybe it was a good decision on Yuta’s part to take you to the DisneySea instead; it catered to your Pirates of the Caribbean needs perfectly despite it not being the initial theme. The ships and wooden coasts and harbors were enough for your imagination to create stories about pirates in your head, the three of you attending various rides and screaming at the top of your lungs together over the course of the afternoon.

“Wanna go to the Tower of Terror?” Yuta asked you, his toothy grin on full display as he dragged you two to the scary ride when you finally got to the American Waterfront.

The teenager was wearing a black muscle top with L’arc en ciel written on it– you found out only a few years later that it was a japanese rock band– and with his long, black hair falling to his forehead, he looked just like the person that would enjoy scary rides and horror movies. You, however– you weren’t prepared to get scared by green ghosts and eerie music. Not at 6 years old anyways, although you doubt you’d do better on this day.

If there’s one thing you need to know about Zhong Chenle, it’s the fact that he’s a lover of horror. And Korean dramas. But mostly horror– a few years later, when you were both the age Nakamoto Yuta was when he brought you to the Tokyo DisneySea, your friend came to a Halloween party dressed like the clown from IT and managed to jump-scare you every moment he physically got. There was no surprise in the small boy liking the idea of attending the scary ride, and no matter how hard you tried and protested, there was no use in you saying no. Because the two of them wanted to go, and you, quoting Yuta, ‘couldn’t just stay alone outside’, so you were pretty much forced into the darkness of the Tower of Terror, your small body pressed against Chenle and Yuta’s– you refused to sit anywhere but sandwiched between the two in the middle of the cart– shutting your eyes close when the scary music started playing and you could feel the anxiety forming in the pit of your stomach.

You trembled the whole time, panic resting in your beating heart, and somewhere along the way, you found yourself clinging to Chenle’s small hand, squishing it so hard he screamed at you in the dim lightning of the ride. You didn’t let go, though– that’s what he gets for dragging you along– fracturing his bones wasn’t in your concerns, if it made you feel more secure and safe.

The fond memory of the day ends with the moment the scary ride is over and you finally get out of the darkness– with Yuta having to carry your out of terror half-paralyzed body from the cart. To this day, you still don’t have a clear outlook on why this day is your favorite childhood memory, but you think it might be the mix of Chenle’s excited laughter as he scared you every two seconds after the ride, the apologetic hug he enveloped you in after you almost burst to tears the third time, the taste of the sausage Yuta bought you two for dinner, the taxi ride to the rented house you had to take in a rush before your parents got back from their business meeting, and the melodic voice of your best friend when he sang you the opening theme to the Pirates of the Caribbean before you two fell asleep on the same bed in your hotel room.

Either way, despite the terror, you don’t think you’ve ever had this much fun ever again.

When you peed the bed that night, your parents decided to never hire a teenager to look after the two of you again. From that moment alone, there was less horror, but also less fun.

May 5, 2019 – tennis courts in Jinqiao, Shanghai, 4:17 PM

One would think that growing up with Zhong Chenle would put him into a position of your almost-brother. And while you did agree with the statement on most days– like when he laughed so hard that snot came out of his nose and almost fell into your lunch plate when you were 15, or when he shot you with his paintball gun so hard you had a bruise on your knee for three weeks when you were 17– you think you’re starting to slowly outgrow this phase.

Zhong Chenle is no longer a brotherly figure to you when you two pick up tennis at the ripe age of 18.

It wasn’t either of your ideas, of course. Tennis is not a sport a teenager just suddenly picks up one day because they’re interested– at least not when you’re incredibly wealthy and can pretty much afford any other hobby in the entire world. No, it was the idea of Chenle’s mother– because, quoting, ‘the kids barely go out these days, they might as well pick up a sport!’ – and with the copycat tendencies of your dear mum, you were dragged along into it as well. And so now, during the finals season, on top of that, you two have to go play tennis on one of the private tennis courts your families rent for three hours a day every Friday afternoon instead of studying or focusing on getting your stress out of your body doing other, much more enjoyable things.

“You know, you look a little too excited for someone who hates playing tennis,” Renjun– the neighborhood kid (your parents being business partners for quite some time now made you and the short boy become friends somewhere along the way)– states, snickering as he lays on one of the benches on the side, his own tennis racket thrown carelessly on the ground as he watches the two of you running around the court, playing.

“I only do it because I’m bored,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sending the little yellow ball over the net with much force, making you run to the other side of the court.

“And I only do it because I need to prove to him that he’s not the best at everything he tries,” you add, sending the ball back to your friend.

“Just say you want to impress him and go,” Yizhuo– Chenle’s cousin from his mother’s side– teases you from the bench, sitting next to Renjun. Her remark doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you send the yellow ball her way after her cousin passes it towards your side of the court again, aiming precisely for her forehead but missing, earning yourself a terrified yelp out of the girl when she scootches closer to the boy next to her.

“That’s totally not what’s going on, but sure,” you roll your eyes at her when she throws the ball back, but you don’t feel interested in continuing the game anymore. Tiredly walking closer to the two sitting at the little shaded bench, wiping the sweat off your forehead, you try hard to not think of the snarky remark that was sent your way.

Is it really that obvious? Because sure, you’ve always found Zhong Chenle to be your brother figure over the years of growing up– but there’s something about the humid air of the tennis court and his competitiveness that have you eyeing him when he takes a sip from his water bottle or when he adjusts the hairband sitting on his damp forehead. He wears shorts that reveal his calves very nicely, and when you play 2 on 2, you find yourself focusing less and less on the game– earning yourself a frustrated yell from Ning Yizhuo herself as she plays along your side– and more and more on the Gucci tennis shoes adorning his feet as you scan the boy up and down, his figure growing taller and taller each passing day captivating you in a sense you’ve never quite experienced before.

“I can’t believe my mum dragged you all into this shit,” Chenle giggles when he sits next to Renjun on the bench, following you to the shade. There’s only 20 minutes left in the time your parents rented the court for and you figure that you can spend that time recharging your energy instead of playing the boring game.

“Not me,” Yizhuo says, “she made my mother feel bad about not signing me up for any sports. You know, your mum’s pretty persuasive, especially when it comes to looking good in front of everyone. If it wasn’t for my mum, I wouldn’t be doing this shit,” she complains, shrugging as she adjusts her ponytail that’s always sitting neatly on the crown of her head.

“I love the fact that Renjun here is the least athletic out of all of us, but he is the only one here willingly,” you snicker, earning yourself a chant of amused laughs at the spoken truth. Now, nobody forced Huang Renjun to come play tennis with you every Friday– but the fact that he doesn’t have many friends in the neighborhood was what made him come along, too bored on his own and with nothing to put his attention to. He doesn’t like playing much, but everything’s better than sitting alone at home, am I right?

The three of you gossip about everything and nothing– the new family in the neighborhood, especially, because Renjun saw their son last Sunday and found his outfit absolutely atrocious (“You’d think people with money would at least know how to dress well, but no. That’s not the case with that Wen Junhui guy.”). The time passes by quickly, and when the timer on Chenle’s phone goes off, signaling that the three mandatory hours at the tennis court are finally over, you all stand up and walk over to the gate, shoes dragging along the sandy surface of the ground with much tiredness. At least you’re getting some cardio in…

“Is your driver coming to pick you up?” Chenle asks as you pay goodbye to your friends, both of them getting into expensive cars waiting for them at the parking lot. Turning to him, you hum in agreement, suddenly shy under his gaze. It’s not even summer yet, but the May sun is already harsh on the skin, getting redness to spread along his cheeks, only further sculpting his handsome bone structure you’ve grown so familiar with over the years.

“What about you?”

“Told my mum I’ll walk home instead. It’s not like it’s only a 20 minute walk anyway,” he mutters, rolling his eyes at the irony of you having to drive home despite living only a few meters away from him, in the same wealthy neighborhood. You grew up together, in the same mowed lawns, in the same green labyrinths of your families’ villas, in the same high ceilings and golden accents on the interior of your houses. After watching him from the corner of your eye, you start to wonder about what changed between the two of you that made you so weak to him now, that you’re both 18. Did he change? Was it the fact that you were now both adults? You don’t think that’s the case– because even though you were 18, there were no more responsibilities waiting for you than they were the years before.

“My driver can take you,” you say, kicking the rocks below your feet, “well, unless you want to walk home alone instead,” you add, noting his previous sentence.

You see him take a sip out of his water bottle, shrugging at your suggestion. Chenle’s not a fan of inefficiency, no matter the fact that you can afford anything you could ever want. It’s a quality of him you find quite strange some days, but you don’t ponder on it too much.

You’ve known each other since you were in diapers. And after replaying all the memories you have with the boy in your head, you think that your 18 year old self isn’t so stupid for falling for him. See– you’ve got to know a lot of men over the course of your life. Many tried to get with you barely before you even grew into an adult, seeing the vision of money and the social status you could give them. Some, on the other hand, never gave you back the attention you were giving them. All relationships you had in your life were blinded by the imaginary price tag you always carried around with yourself, and so everything always stayed surface-level and plain. No wonder you fell for Chenle– no matter how long it took you to get to this part of your friendship– he’s the only one that ever showed you his true self, he’s the only one that ever trusted you enough to go deeper in conversations with you and treated you like a real human being. You know him well and he knows you well; he’s like a book you always find yourself rereading, excited to find that your favorite characters always stayed the same. At the end of the day, you think you were always meant to fall for Chenle.

Standing under the blazing sun, you wait for your driver to get to the tennis courts. You wait for 10 minutes, then 15– and when you get a little too overheated, Chenle offers you his water bottle and mumbles something about being on time. When the time passes 45 minutes after your driver’s supposed arrival, your friend turns to you with a glint in his eye, a grin sitting on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Wanna walk home with me instead?”

And the truth is, you don’t find yourself disagreeing. And you also don’t find yourself hating the walk up the hills of the neighborhood– no matter how tiring it was to your already exhausted limbs– and you don’t find yourself complaining about the lack of AC or the vehicle driving your ass home to your, admittedly, too big of a house. Chenle entertains you with his talks– because he always talks too much for his own good– and when you stop paying attention to him and lose track of where you’re going, he drags you back to the sidewalk by your hand and your fingers stay interlocked when he teases you about the fact that you almost got ran over by a white Cadillac.

“Listen, there’s this song I think you’ll like,” he hums when you’re 5 minutes away from your house, pulling out his phone out of his back pocket and opening up the Spotify app. He plays you a song by Ariana Grande, singing along to the lyrics of the chorus. His voice goes thin when he tries to mimic the singer’s voice, dragging along the english sentences of ‘it feels so good to be this young and have this fun and be successful, i’m so successful!’, irony seeping from his tone. Your hands are still intertwined as he swings them back and forth and you don’t even really care about the subtle implication of the lyrics he’s singing– because it’s Chenle, and despite being just as wealthy as you, he’s no stranger to calling you a snob.

When you’re 18 and walking back from your weekly tennis endeavors, you can’t help but feel the fluttering in your heart when your friend twirls you around in your driveway, your white tennis skirt childishly fulfilling your unsaid dreams of becoming a ballerina, before he walks to his house standing on the opposite side of the road.

You don’t even care that your poor driver got fired by your mother right after she realized he forgot to pick you up from the tennis court as much.

October 17, 2020 – a charity evening, Shanghai, 9:11 PM

Your whole life so far has been guided in the aura of money. When you were little, you didn’t realize it as much– your young, undeveloped brain couldn’t phantom the fact that your annual trips to Italy and summer vacations at yachts and in the Paris DisneyLand weren’t a normal occurrence to everyone. You couldn’t understand the value of money, and you think that maybe, you never truly will. Because you were born fortunate, never having to worry about a single thing, always living in wealth and with gold around your neck.

The closest you are to understanding just how much money your family truly has is at the charity evenings you are forced to attend. Walking around, mostly bored– because truly, you didn’t have much of an idea just how much money you’re sending to the unfortunate parts of Africa and what the whole thing even has to do with you, when the money wasn’t really yours in the first place– you try to at least look through the flier your family made for the event, reading through the carefully crafted sentences, feeling at least a little sorry for everyone that doesn’t get to live the way you do.

“Isn’t it funny how this is the only way our families can present themselves in a good light?” Chenle mumbles when he reads over your shoulder, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.

Turning around to look at your companion, you furrow your brows at his snarky comment. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we give to charity so people don’t hate us as much,” Chenle shrugs, taking a sip from the champagne poured in a tall glass you’re pretty sure your mother spent hours and hours picking out when renting this place, just so everything could be perfect.

“It’s just jealousy,” you say as you walk side-by-side with the boy, the expensive fabric of his white button-down hugging his body in all the right places, leaving you light-headed when you let yourself indulge in your thoughts for too long and stare at the curves of his forearms. It’s been a few months since you slept with your childhood friend– and while you must admit that you regretted it a little when you woke up in the morning, with a hangover and sore limbs, you also didn’t regret it as much as to turn the offer down when it was next brought to you. And the next time, and the next…

“You think?” Chenle asks, and his interest in your answer seems genuine.

“Yeah,” you nod, shrugging to yourself, “we have more money than any of them ever will, so it’s only natural for people to feel jealous and talk spiteful things about us.”

Chenle hums at your answer, licking his lips before he looks you dead in the eye, the smallest glint of irony shining from behind the dark orbs, making you shrink under his gaze. “It’s not like it’s hard work anyway,” Chenle mutters, “if it wasn’t all stolen money, at least the charity work wouldn’t feel as fake.”

You stop in your tracks at the comment, furrowing your brows. “Stolen money?”

The boy next to you snickers at your clueless eyes. It’s no wonder you never really cared about the source of your family’s wealth– you were born to it, so you never had a reason to doubt it. And truth be told, you never really complained either. You don’t think anyone in your place would, really. You just accepted it the way it is, and you never asked any questions. For all you know, your parents are hard working business owners– you bet their money is well deserved for the amount of effort they put in– so to hear that it’s stolen money, from someone who is in a similar position as you, on top of that, you can’t believe your ears.

“I mean, they’re business owners. Let’s not act like both yours and my parents don’t meddle with the taxes at least a bit, sweetheart,” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, “if I were all those people outside of it, I’d hate myself too.”

His words do little to comfort you. They do quite the opposite, really, and even though Zhong Chenle has no proof to show you of the fact that your parents might have at least a bit of dirty money on their hands, you can’t say you don’t trust a word that comes out of his mouth. You start to wonder if you’re that gullible– and who is the one lying straight to your eyes now, if it’s your friend or your parents– and you start to believe that you’d trust everything Chenle tells you, because that’s just the relationship you have with him. He could do anything and you’d follow him to the end of the world. It takes years to build that bond, and so even know, although you have the urge to scream at him for talking such things about the ones that brought you to this world– this perfect, shiny world– you find yourself holding back, the bubble around you bursting in a second, although you spent 19 years of your life living in the fake glory and bejeweled experience. Opening your mouth to ask him more about the matter– to get yourself out of the confusion you’ve been put in with just a few sentences uttered out of his always too-honest mouth, you turn to the boy when a man with a camera approaches the two of you, asking to take a picture of you.

And you comply, because what else are you supposed to do? This is how you’ve been raised. You smile for the pictures, you grin when you find yourself in the magazines, you nod when people recognise your name, you greet people with a polite nod, because you never know when someone wants to make business with your parents and you wouldn’t want to ruin good opportunities for them, would you?

With Chenle’s arm around your waist, your body instinctively leaning into his touch, you smile for yet another picture for the portfolio. Sometimes you feel like a princess– with everything it takes; both the royal responsibilities and the special treatment. More often than not, you find yourself enjoying the spotlight.

“Now they have proof that we were here,” Chenle mumbles into your ear, his lips gently brushing the smooth skin, “wanna get out of here? This party doesn’t look as enjoyable as the last one we went to,” the boy references the time you spent together at the cruise ship, with both the screaming on the dancefloor, and also the aftermath in your room, making heat puddle in your cheeks as you swat his hand away before it gets too low on your back in front of everyone in the room.

“I have to give a speech, but… maybe later?” you look at him, innocently batting your eyelashes at him, when the boy shrugs and takes a step back, downing the last drops of champagne from the expensive looking glass.

“I’ll be waiting back home,” Chenle says, “I bet our parents will stay until this all ends, so we have plenty of time for ourselves when you decide you’re tired of the gala.”

He disappears out of your sight the moment after, putting the empty glass onto a tray of one of the waiters carefully walking across the room, his back escaping out the front door. If you squint hard enough through the glass, you could see him getting into one of the sports cars he got from his parents for his 18th birthday– the vehicle driving off in the hands of his driver for the night, since he just had a glass of alcohol– and leaving you alone in the world of faux and feathers, fulfilling the responsibilities given to you by your mother. And for the first time– not only because you hate giving public speeches– you so desperately want to follow him, getting out before midnight like Cinderella, never attending another one of these evenings ever again.

You don’t, though. You’re an obedient daughter.

And when you call him up from the entryway a few minutes after midnight, his rough hands welcoming you to his bedroom by undressing the thousand-dollar Tiffany dress you wore to the event– being the aftermath of his previous words or not, you start to think how ironic it is that your attire for the evening cost more than than the monthly rent of the people you were giving to in your speech.

After a while, your words turn bitter.

March 23, 2020 – South Cape Owners Club, Namhae-gun, Gyeongsangnam-do, South Korea, 1:17 PM

“Did you really have to choose the most boring thing to do for your birthday?” Chenle mutters under his nose when all of your parents stride forward to get another hole in one, beads of sweat appearing on your foreheads as you stand directly under the midday sun.

“This wasn’t my idea, okay?” Renjun huffs, carrying his golf equipment with him, the silly-looking golf gloves tugged right off his hands when his parents are no longer in sight. “All I wanted was to visit my grandma, but they decided we needed to do something special for my birthday, and when I couldn’t tell them anything I’d like to do, they dragged everyone to play golf.”

“I was thinking more like… clubbing and then crashing at your grandma’s place overnight, but okay…” Yizhuo snickers, watching as all of your parents joyfully talk between themselves, their conversation rarely leaving business matters as they play golf with as much enthusiasm as one can have while focusing on this boring sport. You don’t really know who made this game and why they made it– you can imagine seventy thousand different ways you’d love to spend your afternoon doing instead, more than a half of them supposedly more mundane than the sport itself; but you still know you’d enjoy even sitting down and getting ice cream better than having to pretend you’re interested in, what Chenle called, rich-people-only sport.

“Maybe I can sneak a bottle up into my room later, but I’m not promising anything,” Renjun shrugs, sighing to himself as he takes out his phone from his back pocket and shakes his head at the sight of the time appearing on his screen. You’ve been at the golf course since 10 AM, and with how interested in the game your parents seem to be, you’re not leaving any time soon either.

Not really engaged in the conversation– because Chenle once told you you complain too much (you truly thought he was the one doing so, but you believe pretty much everything that comes out of the man’s mouth, because he’s mostly right about things) and you think you’ve done your fair share of complaining on your way to the golf course in the first place– you look around, trying to find a thing that could occupy your attention instead. Finding anything fun to do while playing golf may just be the hardest thing to do, but when you notice your companion Chenle missing and his figure appears striding towards your small group in a golf cart, the vehicle going full speed (even the barely 40 km/h looks like it could kill when he seems to not give a single damn about running you over), and suddenly, your mind is occupied enough.

Screeching when the golf cart barely misses your figure, you jump to the side and watch Chenle laugh from the driver’s seat. His malicious instincts barely ever leave his body and the operation of a golf cart is seemingly bringing out the worst in him– thank god he barely drives anymore– and you can’t help but laugh at his little stunt when the cart comes to a sharp halt and he waves you three over with a motion of his hand.

“Hop on, motherfuckers, we have places to be!” he says, all of you following his footsteps and jumping into the small vehicle– you in the passenger seat, next to Chenle, and Renjun and Yizhuo taking the two seats on the back. Once you’re all in, the engine grunts with the speed Chenle’s intending to get to in the weak thing, the atmosphere shifts into one with much more fun and adrenaline– because you know you’re not supposed to ride the carts (not this fast anyway) and when your parents find out, you’re gonna get in a lot of trouble. No, you’re not going to get grounded– you’re not a kid anymore– but the silent treatment and nagging from them about being well-raised and respectable members of society is enough to leave you scared of their anger for the rest of your lives.

“Slow down, I’m gonna fall out!” you scream when Chenle takes a sharp turn, the golf cart almost toppling over on the green grass.

“I got you, don’t worry,” he notes, one of his hands loosely falling to your thigh to keep you in place, your skin heating up even more from his touch now, enjoying the hold but also fearing the eyes of your friends from the backseat. Your earlier terror is quickly erased with another sharp turn the driver takes– having much more things to worry about now, surviving being one of them– and when he zooms past the group of middle-aged people standing a few meters ahead of you, you already know you’re in big trouble.

Now you’re gonna get scolded for abducting a golf cart. When it wasn’t even your idea in the first place.

Well, that’s something to worry about later.

Chenle drives with the cart all over the golf course, the vehicle providing you enough entertainment for the next few minutes until you get tired of the ride. Looking over at him on your side, gaping a little at the view of your childhood friend driving the cart with only one hand, the other one still securely glazing your thigh, you almost choke out with how attractive the strange sight is to your eyes. Forcing yourself to focus on the road– and thank god, because if you didn’t hold to the side of the cart now, you’d surely fall out despite Chenle’s reassuring words and his hold on your leg– when the man cuts through a small hill in the golf course, the vehicle jumping up and falling back down making you scream in terror mixed with just a bit of excitement.

“Fucking hell, at least warn us before!” Renjun screams from the back, followed by Yizhuo’s amused laughter. You can only imagine Renjun’s almost fallen out, and even though the mental image looks hilarious, you really don’t need him to get hurt today, because he wouldn’t shut up about it for the next 8 working days. And it’s his birthday, after all– you wouldn’t wanna ruin it by having too much fun.

And so, with a last giggle escaping the boy’s throat, Chenle brings the golf cart to a halt, the vehicle stopping far enough from your parents to not get scolded immediately for making so much ruckus at the golf cart, the four of you enjoying the silence, still recovering from the wild ride. Smiling fondly to yourself and gaping at the boy next to you again, you suddenly grow appreciative of him. If it wasn’t for his wild nature, you would still be sulking somewhere on the golf course, pretending to enjoy living your snobby life alongside your parents. You bet even Renjun himself will find this moment captured in his brain as a core birthday memory, and the more you stare at Chenle’s side profile, the more you want to hold his face in your hands and thank him.

“Ew,” you hear Yizhuo’s voice from behind you, bringing you out of your thoughts. Looking back to see what she’s referring to, you watch her gaze landing on Chenle’s hand playing with the flesh on your thigh, heat suddenly rising to your cheeks in being caught in the exact position you feared a little while ago.

“What–” Chenle snaps his head back at his cousin, while you quickly shrug his palm off your skin, but it’s too late now– you’ve been caught in the act and now you can’t do anything to erase Ning Yizhuo’s memory.

“You know, I thought you two were cousins at first. Like, from your dad’s side, I mean,” Yizhuo sighs, shaking her head in disbelief at the two of you, her comment not doing much to ease the situation either. Chenle seems to be confused at her words, his face scrunching up as he glares at the girl.

“We’re not,” you note, clearing your throat and looking at her with a glare, mentally praying for her to drop the topic.

“Yeah, thank god,” Chenle adds, and you should’ve expected him to make the situation even worse– it’s Zhong Chenle, after all– but his next words shock you and leave you gasping, mentally killing him right here and in this moment, “that would make a lot of things weird.”

“Ew,” Yizhuo repeats, and suddenly, that perks up Renjun’s attention– the boy previously facing the other side of the golf course and not paying you three much care– as he looks around and watches you with confusion in his features.

“What are you talking about?”

“That they are–” the girl takes it upon herself to explain her findings, but she’s quickly cut off by a sound of a middle-aged woman screaming through the place, her small figure striding towards the golf cart.

“Zhong Chenle, what do you think you’re doing?!”

And with that scolding tone, the previous topic is dropped. Thank god.

June 12, 2020 – Zhong Chenle’s room, Shanghai, 11:21 PM

A hand stroking through his hair, smoothing back the bangs and revealing his forehead in the dim blue of the neon light in his room, you lay on your side next to your friend Chenle, a blanket carelessly thrown over your half-naked middles to shield you from the breeze. You hum a song under your breath as you play with his locks, the black disappearing between your fingers like sand, eyes carefully watching his tired expression.

If you thought hard enough, you could see the little boy you first met at your parent’s conference room when you were 3 materialize in front of your eyes. His cheeks were chubby and he was short, waddling behind you almost a head less than your size, and his voice was thin as he asked you for your name. From that moment on, you knew you were supposed to stick together– and while your parents were the first relative to bring you two together, you didn’t mind always being glued to each other’s hips.

When you look closer at him now, it’s hard to see that boy in him. Harder than you expected, if you’re being totally honest. Don’t get me wrong, you can still see in his features– even though his cheekbones are more prominent now and his jaw is more chiseled, lips plumper and his figure built more firmly than when he was a little boy– but there’s something about his demeanor that completely changed over time. He seems less enthusiastic, and while one would think that it’s just him growing into being a more laid-back and relaxed person– he’s not a kid anymore, after all– you think there’s something more to it, you just can’t quite put your finger to it.

Seeing him close his eyes every once in a while, lids falling under the weight of his tiredness and the comfort your gentle strokes through his scalp give him, you feel your heart clench with all the care you’re currently putting into the boy, and all that you’ve been putting into him throughout your growing up. After so many years– after getting so close and intimate with him– you don’t think you’d be able to let the boy go, and just the sheer image of ever losing him or leaving him behind leaves you trembling with anxiety.

And so, despite being afraid of ruining the calm atmosphere that comes after making love to him, you speak up with a weak voice, contrasting to what you’re logically supposed to feel after getting to know the news this morning– just because you have to know.

“Lele?” you mumble, hearing him let out a hum, his voice sounding as if he’s half-asleep, but you know he’s listening to you. “What are your plans… after you graduate?” you ask. The day of graduation is coming faster and faster towards you, the years you’ve spent at high school finally fulfilled after all the effort you put in on your finals.

“Dunno,” he replies, eyes barely opened as his arm that’s been previously laid on the mattress in between your two bodies moves to your hip, fingers drumming over the soft skin, “why?”

“Just wondering…” you speak, voice barely louder than a whisper. The boy stays silent– his eyes once again closing on themselves as you continue to play with his hair. One would think he’s fallen asleep, not awake enough to have this conversation, and you would even believe the fact and let the conversation go, thinking you’d find another time to dwell on this topic, but then, as a surprise, his voice startles you from your deep thoughts when he curiously inquires you, the hand on your hip steadying.

“What about you?”

Taking a deep breath in and out, a smile battling to take over your lips, you lick your lips in the heartbeat that comes before your answer. Swallowing your nerves– because even though you should’ve told him the moment you got the news this morning, you’re somehow stressed out about the action of doing so– you open your mouth and finally break the rules to him.

“I… I got to Yale,” you say, on your toes. The joy and relief you felt this morning when you saw the email appear on your phone screen is daring to creep into the way you speak to Chenle right now, but you’re keeping it in. Not letting yourself scream and shout the accomplishment from the rooftops, you look at the boy, not a change appearing on his face at hearing your announcement. “I got into their business program,” you add anxiously, waiting for him to say something– anything– to your news.

As your friend, he’s supposed to be happy for you, isn’t he? He’s supposed to hug you now and squeeze you and tell you how you’ve done a good job and that he’s proud of you and that he’s cheering you on in your dream. None of it comes, though, as he only hums and nods at your sentences, not even bothering to open his eyes to look at you when you oh so excitedly talk to him about your life goals.

Something inside of you breaks just the tiniest bit, your mood falling as you anxiously chew on the inside of your cheek.

“Are you not gonna say anything?” you demand, halting your movements through his raven locks, averting your touch and looking at him curiously.

You watch him as he finally opens his eyes and looks at you with an empty look, licking his lips before humming again and asking you in a tone of voice that barely meets interest or excitement. “So you’re gonna be a businesswomen like your mum when you get your degree?” he asks, nodding to himself.

“Yeah,” you answer, clearing your throat. You’re a little confused at his weird stance towards the topic, but you battle out a tight-lipped smile. “I’m hoping for it.”

He hums again, the noise seemingly enough for him to consider it a valid conversation holder, a deadpan: “Good,” leaving his lips after a second, making you furrow your brows in confusion and utter disappointment. This is not the way you imagined the conversation to go– this is not how you wanted it to go at all.

Heaving out a sigh, you tug your arm to yourself, contemplating on speaking up– knowing you’re just gonna make everything worse if you do– but doing so anyway. “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“I mean, what else is there to say?”

Looking at him in disbelief, your face scrunching up in various different emotions, all mixing into one– disappointment being the dominant feel, you think, you scoff at him. This is not Zhong Chenle as you know him, and sure, he hasn’t been the most overly-excited, cheerful individual these past few months, but you still think you deserve at least a bit of praise for the achievement of getting into one of the hardest universities to get to in the world, no?

“I don’t know, you could… congratulate me, I guess…? Tell me I did a good job, I dunno… would be nice,” you mutter, snickering once more to prove your irritation with the man.

“Oh,” he says, looking genuinely surprised, taken-aback, even, “well, congrats on the legacy admission, I guess,” he says, nonchalant, as if his words aren’t a dagger to your heart each second that passes, your blood pressure rising as the reality downs on you that he’s being serious and that this is not a sick joke.

“The legacy admission?” you repeat, eyes big and shocked, your whole body moving an inch away from him on the bed without you realizing.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, not a bit caring about breaking you from the inside, the humiliation slowly creeping from the tips of your fingertips to the depths of your soul.

“So you’re saying I went through the whole admission process and put in so much effort only for you to say that I got in because of stupid legacy?” you chirp, gazing at him with sharp eyes, blood boiling from the impact of his words. “What legacy are you even talking about?”

“Don’t act like you’re not a nepo baby,” he snickers, rolling his eyes.

Gasping at his words, baffled at the unexpected reaction, you stand up on the bed and stare at him with sharp eyes. At a loss for words, you stutter a little when you speak up again and utter out the next words, hoping to hit him where it hurts. “Like you’re not?”

“Never said I’m not,” he shrugs, “don’t have a problem with admitting I am.”

“So you’re saying I only got to university because of my parents,” you get out, glossy eyes scanning his peaceful figure, “so you’re saying I’m not smart enough to get into Yale?”

“That’s not what I said–”

“But you implied.”

“You only hear what you want to hear,” Chenle sighs, as if he was tired of your antics, which only makes you more furious at the whole interaction.

“No, Chenle–” you stutter, his name rolling off your tongue as if it was meant to stop him with hurting you even more for discrediting your efforts, yet, you can’t find any more words to say to him as you stare at this limb body laying on the soft mattress of his king sized bed, shaking your head in disbelief.

Standing up from the bed and scattering around the room for your clothes, ignoring the way putting them on in front of him makes you feel like you’ve been stripped away from all your dignity, you hurriedly come to the door of his bedroom, almost forgetting your phone that you gather on your way out from the messy desk in the right corner of the room.

“Where are you going?” he asks monotonously, watching you move through the place.

“Home,” you bark out, running your hand through your hair as you walk back to the door, ignoring the hot tears pricking your eyes at the feeling of your whole entire world collapsing in on you when he mourns from the bed.

“Don’t be mad, it’s not like I said anything bad…”

“Goodnight,” you snap, not bothering to look back at him as you escape his house in the middle of the night, running through the street to your house much earlier than you anticipated, wiping at your cheeks with angry palms.

This is the first time he disappointed you, and you can’t tell if that felt worse, or if it was the excitement slowly and painfully stripping off your bones, making you feel like you’re running around without your flesh, completely see-through for everyone around.

June 27, 2020 – IFC Mall, Shanghai, 4:33 PM

“Do you think this makes my ass look extra hot?” Yizhuo asks, gaze shifting from you to Chenle to Renjun, the four of you currently in one of the designer shops at the mall. Leaning on the wall, arms crossed on your chest and chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrug, not a word escaping your mouth.

“I’m your cousin, I’m not looking at your ass like that,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sighing as he takes a seat on one of the expensive looking sofas situated in the changing room, resting his head against the neck rest and closing his eyes in what seems to be tiredness or annoyance– either of, or both mixed in, equal parts.

“Oh come on, I need to know!”

“It does look super hot, Yizhuo, now can you–”

“So you are staring at my butt!” Yizhuo excitedly yelps, pointing a sharp finger towards Renjun, a bright grin settling onto her lips when the accused boy stutters, cheeks reddening at her comment.

“You literally asked us to, for fuck’s sake!”

“You could’ve refused, just like Chenle did,” she shrugs, smiling to herself in victory. If anyone was listening to your conversation right now, they would surely have a lot of questions you wouldn’t be able to respond to. Hell, even you’re confused half of the time you hang out with Ning Yizhuo– what the hell is going on in her head?

“He’s your family, of course he refused,” Renjun mutters, shaking his head as he drags a hand through his hair in despair.

“Whatever you say, Renjunie,” she chirps, closing the curtain behind her and changing back into the pants she wore when she got to the store in one swift motion, leaving the boy puzzled with her next words as she walks up to the counter, “I’m only buying those because you think I look super hot in them, just so you know.”

Paying for her things and escaping the store, the rest of you tagging along, you notice the boy aimlessly trying to forget about the whole situation, and his prayers were listened to, after all, since Yizhuo seems to drop the topic after teasing him so much, turning to you instead. Walking alongside with you, leaving the two boys a few steps ahead, she nudges you with her elbow, raising up her brow in question.

“What’s up with you? You haven’t even tried anything on,” she notes, “and we both know you’ve been eyeing that new LV collection, so there must be something bothering you.”

Sighing, hating that the girl knows you so well– that, or you’re being awfully obvious– you roll your eyes in annoyance and try to shrug the topic off. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Well, that’s obviously a lie. Is it something with Chenle? You two are usually all over each other, so–”

“It’s not about Chenle,” you snap, cutting the poor girl off, “so drop it.”

“Did he say something stupid? I know my cousin, come on. I can slap some sense into him, sweetheart, just let me know–”

“Please let it be,” you insist, tone of voice almost a little too sharp for your own liking, but it seemingly does its job as your friend only shrugs and takes a sip out of the coffee you all bought when getting to the mall, catching up to the men a few steps in front of you, talking about basketball.

“Well, if you need to talk to anyone about it, you know where to find me,” she says, and joins the discourse with her cousin and the boy she’s been teasing for whatever reason for the last few weeks instead, leaving you to trail behind them like a lost puppy, deep in your thoughts.

It’s been a few weeks since you last talked to Chenle. He tried reaching out to you a few times, sending you texts to ask what you’re doing that day to see if you wanna hang out. It seemed that at first, he didn’t really understand that he upset you. After you continued to ignore him even on graduation day, only greeting him and sparing him a few words, he seemed to get the memo as he let you deal with your emotions by yourself instead. You were never given an apology– and truthfully, knowing Chenle, you didn’t even expect to get one in the first place. But still, it’s been bugging you and you couldn’t get his words out of your brain, because you know you can’t do anything about them– if this is the image he has of you, the opinion he created, you don’t think you can talk it out with him in the first place.

“Everything okay back there?” Chenle asks, looking behind at you. His eyes are big and honest, and you find yourself nodding to his caring question. Sparing him a word seems like too much effort right now, and so when he offers you a tight-lipped smile, you don’t have enough energy to reciprocate it.

“Princess Yizhuo here has sore feet, so we are calling it a day. You wanted anything from the mall? I can stay behind with you and go get it,” he continues, his words jabbing into you only reminding you more of the days you spent ignoring him. Realistically, he should be mad at you for it– maybe you even wanted that to happen so he would ignore you instead, giving you the silent treatment, but this is your childhood friend Zhong Chenle we’re talking about. He talks too much in situations where he should shut up instead, and that’s exactly what’s happening in this very moment as well.

“I’m good,” you note, shrugging as you throw the empty coffee cup into one of the bins on your way, your small group now escaping the mall and getting to the parking lot.

Walking towards Chenle’s Zenvo TS1 parked in the corner of the parking lot, you hear the chatter of the group resonating in your ears, not really engaging in the conversation yourself, but choosing to listen to feel included anyway. It’s not their fault that you’re not in the mood, and frankly, you’re glad they even invited you to the outing in the first place. Everything’s better than being left out in your books, even if it means forcing yourself into social interaction.

“My driver should be here any minute,” Yizhuo smiles, waving at Renjun currently getting into his Porsche Cayenne that he got after you all arrived from his birthday trip to Korea. Watching the boy drive off– while listening to Chenle bitching about his driving (he does have a point though, the poor boy almost crashed into a pole on his way out) – you feel a nudge to your elbow, making you turn to your friend.

“Wanna get back with me, neighbor?” he asks, eyebrows raised in question.

In any other circumstance, you wouldn’t miss a heartbeat before answering. But now, you ponder on the question for a bit– you got to the mall with Yizhuo, having hanged out with her at her place before– but now that she’s getting a drive home, there was no use in you tagging along with her, since you live quite far from her house. Getting a drive home from Chenle is the most logical solution, after all, and that’s why you find yourself nodding.

Jumping to the passenger’s seat, waving at Yizhuo still waiting for her driver to get there– it should take only about 5 more minutes, with the speed her driver can get to when called– you silently gaze out of the window on your way back, not sparing the boy next to you a glance. He seems to not mind, carefully taking turns and waiting at the stop signs and red lights on his way to your neighborhood, humming along under his breath to the songs on the radio instead to fill the silence. You spend the ride chewing on your cheek, nerves eating you up from inside just at the sheer fact of being in his close proximity again, yet still being so painfully hurt at the feelings he expressed the last time you hung out one-on-one.

His car smoothly gets to the parts of the town that feel more rich– houses growing bigger in size, the gates taller in the sky and the lawns mowed more carefully, with more fancy bushes in the yards and pure-blood dogs running around in front of the gates. After a few minutes, your neighborhood appears in front of your eyes, his car driving past your house and into the Zhong property instead, making you furrow your brows in confusion and annoyance.

“You could’ve just stopped in front of my house so I could get out, you know,” you hum, sighing when he turns the engine off.

“I was thinking we could hang out over at ours for a sec,” he shrugs, turning his face to you with a hopeful glint in his eye, which you dismiss with an annoyed huff and a roll of your eyes, reaching towards the door handle to get out and walk over to your house instead.

“Come on, Y/N,” he calls for you, “are you still mad?”

“No,” you snicker, shrugging as you move towards the front gates, his figure quickly catching up to you as he grabs your wrist, halting you in your movements.

“I’m sorry. Let me make it out to you?” he mumbles, looking at you with eyes big and deep like honey, and suddenly, you’re a putty under his touch– just like always, you cave in– as you sigh, following him inside. You don’t miss the victorious pep in his step as he leads you inside, his hand still in contact with your arm, only letting go when you get to his room and he leads you to sit on his bed.

“Wanna play something?” he asks, thrusting a PS5 controller into your hands, not really leaving you much room for disapproval. Grunting and rolling your eyes at him, you watch as he opens up It takes two, your characters running around the split screen trying to figure out the way around.

The silence between the two of you is cruciating, suffocating, even, as neither of you have enough courage to open up the topic again. Tugging at your bottom lip, biting off the dry skin up to the point it bleeds, you sigh and turn to the boy again, putting the controller down. “Is this your way of making it up to me?” you ask.

Cocking his head to you, he shrugs. “I mean, I had a different idea, but that’s up for a discussion…” he mutters, the suggestion of his words making you roll your eyes at him, in disbelief of the fact that he still has the audacity to tease when he knows you’re clearly upset with him.

“Okay, I’m… really sorry, okay?” he says when he registers your mood, sighing to himself and running a hand through his hair. “I kinda fucked up, and I realise that. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re stupid, or anything– come on, I always cheated off you on exams, after all– so, I just- it came off wrong, is what I’m tryna say,” he concludes, looking at you hopefully, his face seemingly in tune with the words coming out of his mouth.

Humming, you shrug, not really knowing what to say. The apology settles a little in you, noting that at least he acknowledged that he fucked up, and so you pick up the controller again and avert your gaze from him. Seeing as his character refuses to move, you look at him from the corner of your eye, raising your brows in question.

“So you forgive me?” he asks, licking his lips in nerves– the action making your eyes travel down to the plump rosiness, involuntarily following his action. His glistening mouth has your gaze wandering around his body, eyes focusing on things you’ve been purposefully ignoring the whole day– the way his forearms show off in his short-sleeved shirt, the way his hair is parted in a way that shows his forehead in the most strangely attractive ways, and also the ever-so casual demeanor of the male. Chuckling to yourself, you shrug, taunting him.

“I dunno,” you mumble, “how can you make it up to me?”

And again, Chenle gets the hint– he’s not stupid, after all.

Slowly lounging himself towards you, making you drop the controller to his sheets, you close your eyes in expectancy of his touch, already so used to the rhythm of his lips against yours. His hand holds your jaw in place, firm kisses pressed to your yearning mouth, you try to remember the way his touch feels– just in case you have to give it up soon again– a selfish action of your body as you thread your fingers through his hair.

Lips ghosting over yours, he snickers against them as he speaks. “You taste of blood,” he notes.

“Shut up,” you mutter, taking matters into your own hands as you lock yourself to him again, pressing shaky, hurried kisses to his lips.

He finds a better place to attach them to, though, as he gently pushes you towards his mattress into a lying position, traveling towards your jaw and your neck. His touch never stays long enough to leave a mark– at least not in places visible for everyone to see, saving you a lot of explaining to your parents and your friends– but the kisses still leave you breathless and yearning for more, hands traveling down his back and humming in pleasure.

“Missed this,” he speaks against your skin, breathless, “so much.”

“Missed my body or me?” you ask, a hint of bitterness on your tongue.

“A bit of both,” he smirks, gently sucking on the skin of your collarbone, leaving you to squirm under the feathery touch. Hands traveling up under your shirt, his fingers trailing across your belly and the curve of your hip, you’re left shivering under the contrast of the heated atmosphere and his stone-cold hands, giggling when he presses an unusually sweet kiss to your cheek in between the more risky ones.

“And which one did you miss more?” you tease, locking eyes with him as he hovers over your body, plopped up by an arm on either side of your head.

His eyes glimmer as he stares you down, cocking his head to the side. “I miss when you didn’t talk,” he says, leaning down again and taking your breath away with a kiss, a displeased grunt meeting his lips as you disapprove of his snarky comment.

In the sheer second where you two break away for air, his hands undress your top, leaving you under him just in your underwear, a position you two have found yourselves in a number of times before. Still, it leaves you shy away under his hungry eyes, only relaxing again when his raven locks tickle the underside of your jaw, lips attaching to every inch of your now exposed body, not afraid of bruising the skin you always keep covered, out of everyone’s eyes. Sometimes, you yearn for him to plant a lovebite to your jaw, to the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, wanting to show them off to everyone and claim the boy as yours– you know you don’t have that power, though, when Zhong Chenle will never be yours and the bruises of desire are always hidden away from everyone, like a dirty little secret; much like what you two have going on in the first place anyway.

“You know,” he mutters against your skin, in between the kisses that have now grown lazier, “I was starting to get a little crazy when you ignored me. That was a first,” he says.

Snickering, hands once again finding their place in his locks, you shrug. “Was the first time you deserved it.”

“Does my opinion really matter to you that much?” he asks, chuckling as he presses another kiss to your skin, to a place a few inches below your collarbone.

“We’ve been friends forever,” you say, “‘course it does.”

“Well, then you should’ve known that as your friend,” he huffs, lips pressed against your skin, “‘m not looking down on you.”

Humming, you let him work his magic as his lazy kisses inch closer to the fabric of your bra, his other hand playing with the fabric of it, twirling the little bow in between your breasts in his fingers as he leans on one of his plopped-up hands, looking at you from the side.

“Guess I was just more curious about what you wanted to do after school, y’know,” you say, the conversation flowing despite his hands all over you, “before you called me a nepo baby, of course.”

He chuckles at your remark, rolling his eyes at you as his finger trails up your side, your skin growing goosebumps under his touch. “Dunno yet. Why do you care?”

“Wanted to see how far we’re gonna be,” you say, the moment suddenly growing more intimate. The relationship you two have was never inclusive– you two had sex sometimes, sure, but you never once told each other this was more than that. You two were just mere fuck buddies, childhood friends that found sexual attraction in each other somewhere along the way, and while that was enough for you for a while, you found yourself growing anxious of the fact that he was never going to be fully yours. And with the growing anxiety– the smallest remainder of your worries that overtake you in the middle of the night sometimes– your throat closes up on itself when you choke out the next words. “Wanted to see how much time we have left together.”

His hand settles on your hip, his eyes bearing into yours with a newly found heaviness in them. Furrowing his brows, he licks his lips in nerves before speaking up. “Well, I’ll always be your neighbor, so you can find me when you come back. Unless we move, y’know…” he jokes, an airy laugh coming out his lungs that doesn’t meet the expected intention of easing the situation.

You chuckle– but there’s not a hint of lightheartedness in the gesture, quite the opposite, really– as you avert your gaze from him, your head lollying to the side when you try to hide your slowly, but surely growing red eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

The hand on your hip squeezes the skin under it, his figure now fully hovering over you again, eyes desperately wanting to meet yours. A finger gently pressed to your chin makes you turn your head back forward, his worried gaze bearing into you, and for a moment, you two only stare into each other’s eyes, frozen in time.

And again, Zhong Chenle isn’t stupid.

But for a second, he acts like he is.

“What are you talking about?” he chuckles. “You’re scaring me.”

And when you don’t give him an answer, but instead chew on the inside of your cheek– another place to bleed after you bite down too hard from the nerves crushing you from the inside– he seems to finally get the hint, an airy laugh full of disbelief meeting your ears. Having figured it out, still, he speaks it into existence– as if he needed a confirmation; 8 words tormentingly escaping from between his swollen lips.

“You don’t have feelings for me, do you?”

Sniffling, you shut your eyes close at the question, your silence a clear answer to your childhood friend as he peels himself off you, the feeling of cold air on your exposed skin like a painful slap to reality. You stay like that for some time, mentally counting seconds, each hammer of your heart in your chest like a threat to your existence. Finally, the silence is broken by a determined, yet a little weak sentence coming out of Chenle’s mouth.

“I think you have to leave.”

Numb, you follow the orders.

July 25, 2020 – Ning Yizhuo’s room, Shanghai, 6:11 PM

“So I was right all along?” Yizhuo snickers, eating from the bowl of almonds she has settled in the free space between her lap and her crossed legs, staring at you with the hydrating sheet mask on her face. You heave out a sigh at her comment, rolling your eyes as you fall back into her soft mattress, shaking your head in disbelief.

“That’s all you got from this conversation?”

“Almost,” she mumbles, but nudges you with her foot right after, “I’m joking. I was listening, I’m just… shocked that I was actually right and that you were fucking my cousin all along.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not happening anymore, so you don’t have to be disturbed,” you grunt, wondering why you actually told the girl in the first place, regretting the decision perhaps the most right now. Yes, she did bug you for the last few weeks about the reasoning behind your attitude, and the fact that you refused all the invitations to hang out with your friends in fear of seeing Chenle were starting to get a bit suspicious, so you figured you can’t hide it anymore and that Yizhuo was bound to find out either way sooner or later. And still, you think you needed a bit of girl advice too.

“‘m not disturbed,” she mumbles, voice suddenly considerate, “I just- the whole situation is all kinds of weird and fucked up right now.”

“Tell me about it,” you chuckle, the bitter taste on your tongue never leaving despite trying to drown your sorrow down in sweets. “I fucked it up, Yizhuo.”

“Now, that’s just not true,” she sighs, putting the bowl of almonds to her coffee table and laying next to you, reaching for your hand and swinging it around in failed acts of encouragement and affection. “It’s not your fault he freaked out and made it weird.”

“I made it weird!” you mourn, breaking away from her grasp and dragging your hands through your hair in frustration, the feelings bundling in your stomach making you feel like acid is just bound to shoot out of the crevices of your insides, throwing up from the stress and despair. “I’m moving across the world the next month and I won’t see any of you for a long time, since Jun is moving to Korea and you’re gonna work in your parent’s company as well as going to uni here, and instead of spending the last moments of summer break together, I fucked it up and made everything weird and awkward just because I had to fall in love with my childhood best friend. While we’d been fucking. Isn’t that fucking great?” you huff, closing your eyes shut with the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks at your own words falling from between your lips.

“We are spending time together right now, though,” Yizhuo tries to cheer you up, her pout heard in her tone.

“There are millions of different ways you’d love to spend your time with me instead of moping because of your cousin,” you note, sighing, “and I don’t even fucking know what he’s gonna do after summer break, and now, I won’t get to know.”

Yizhuo grows quiet next to you, suggesting the thickening atmosphere. Turning on your side to see your friend with her eyes glued to your figure, you chew on the inside of your cheek. She sighs, preparing herself for the mental tangent she’s gonna bring you on, and reaches over to smooth down your messy hair.

“You know, Chenle never really liked… this life,” she says, shrugging, “he hates shopping, he hates hearing about investing, he hated traveling so much when you and your family didn’t tag along… At every family reunion, he just hid away in his room and never got out, because he found the whole situation snobby and fake and all those adjectives I’ve never really thought about calling my own relatives. He… he…” she licks her lips, trying to come up with the right words to say, “he sees the world around us with different eyes, and I don’t think he’s happy with it. So don’t- don’t be mad at him for not really… going anywhere with it, okay?”

Furrowing your brows at her, you shake your head in confusion. This is perhaps the first time you really realized Chenle’s view on things– it’s not like you haven’t heard his annoyed rants about all the prestige and over-the-top lifestyle you all have, but that’s all you thought it was. Annoyance– because at the end of the day, your life is comfortable. You wouldn’t want it any other way. If money moves the world around, you were the one walking through every hallway, all opportunities opened up in front of your eyes; and you don’t think you’d enjoy your life more if you had a bit less money. Chenle, on the other hand, seems to be quite the opposite. His joy is not determined by money, and for the first time in your life, it seems like you’re getting what he’s been talking about your whole life, the words you heard but never truly listened to. It was right in front of you the whole time, but you never saw it, and now that your eyes have been opened, you find it hard to deal with the revelation.

“But what is he going to do?” you gurgle out, confused.

“I don’t think he knows either,” Yizhuo shrugs, “he’s… figuring out things, I suppose.”

Chuckling, you shut your eyes in despair, thinking for a bit, but still failing to grasp the situation. “I don’t get it. He- he could have everything, but he’s just… throwing everything away? He could move across the world, he could start his own company, he could buy a house or work or study, but he just won’t,” you ramble, “I don’t get it.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Yizhuo shrugs, “but he sees it a different way.”

Laying flat on your back, eyes glued to the ceiling, your friend clears her throat and awkwardly shuffles around her sheets. “And at the end of the day, even though you’ve been friends for forever, I think you’re just in love with the version of him that you’ve created in your head. The version that you’re trying, but cannot fix,” she notes, pausing for a moment before proceeding, “the only person you can fix is yourself.”

And maybe, Yizhuo’s right. Maybe you fell in love with the Chenle in his sports car, Chenle in the golf cart with his designer clothes on, Chenle on the cruise ship sipping on expensive alcohol. Maybe you fell in love with the version that has the whole world in the palm of his hand, the version of him that goes to Yale with you and rents out a luxurious apartment in the middle of the city, kissing you behind the tall windows, watching over the busy streets– the version in your dreams, the version you wanted to achieve.

But what about the version of him that walked you to your house after tennis class? What about the version of him that cuddled you in his sheets, the version of him that fell asleep soundly when you played with his hair, cradled your fingers through his scalp? What about the version of him that scared you in the dark, because he knew you get creeped out too easily, the version of him that ate cheap sausage with you in Japan, the version of him that studied with you and brought you to your bed when you fell asleep at the table? What about the version of him that cried to Disney movies with you, the version of him that danced with you to the tunes of One Direction in your room when you were sixteen, the version of him that threw rocks on your window in the moonlight the night you turned seventeen, wanting to be the first one to wish you happy birthday before slipping inside of your room in the middle of the night, only to fall asleep seconds later, huddling your sheets?

Did you make that up? Was that not him in the first place?

And maybe, there is a discrepancy between the dream you’ve made up in your head with him, the idea of you two staying together, trying to fix the view he has on the world you two live in, but at the end of the day, none of it was a lie.

And maybe, Yizhuo’s right; you should change the way you view things to match Chenle’s better, because at the end of the day, maybe you’re the one too blinded by the gold and silver around your neck to see the real issue here.

August 2, 2020 – Lehai Villas, Baicheng, China, 10:15 PM

When you finally see Zhong Chenle after the night he kicked you out of his bedroom, both of you are a mess.

You’re a mess in the more subtle sense. Your dress is neat, the jewelry on your neck was carefully picked out days before, the heels enveloping your feet are one of the most comfortable ones for you to walk in, since you prepared yourself for being on your feet the whole evening. Your makeup is fixed on your face, earrings dangling off your ears and your purse matches the outfit perfectly; your hair in a fancy updo that you even drove to a hairdresser for, all so that you could look flawless for another one of your parent’s gatherings. Their business partner’s son is turning 21, and while it doesn’t look like that big of a deal, they are celebrating the fact that Mark Lee is now one of the shareholders of their company– and in your world, this is the most moving moment of the child’s life.

You’re a mess in the more subtle sense– you keep looking around, restless, not really paying attention to anything anyone is saying. Aimlessly humming and picking at the skin of your cuticles, you try hard to both catch a glance of your friend, and to also avoid him at all costs. The reality that Zhong Chenle is a mess too hits you only when you finally see him– his tie loose on his neck, a grunt escaping his throat that you can hear from all the way to where you are, his walking a little wobbly and his hair messy as he runs his hand through the sprayed-down locks, his composure disheveled and so obviously out of the place.

And you want to stay away, you really do– to let him deal with his own things by himself, to pretend you weren’t cautiously looking for him all evening– but when he picks up another glass of alcohol from one of the tables and downs it in one go, cheeks getting rosier by the minute, you wonder how far you can let him go until he gets into trouble with his parents; and suddenly, you’re on your feet, just like you expected, dragging your figure closer to the one you’ve been trying to avoid.

“Don’t you think you’ve drunk enough?” you mumble when you appear behind him, his shoulders slouching at the tone of your voice. When he looks around and catches your eyes, he snickers to himself, shrugging, before he makes a face full of disgust at your remark.

“We’re celebrating, aren’t we?” he says, “Mark Lee’s a big man now, taking all the responsibility for a company that’s so great, and he loves the job so much,” he continues, over-exaggerating every word, “and we’re here to celebrate his birthday! Have you… seen the motherfucker anywhere, by the way? Would wanna congratulate him on… the thing…” he trails off, dramatically scratching his head as he speaks the last words.

“Chenle–”

“Right! We are celebrating a guy we don’t even know, or seen the whole evening, but that’s so great, because at least we have all this alcohol–”

��Okay, you’re getting out of here,” you snap, shaking your head at his antics and digging your nails into his forearm, dragging the boy out of the crowded place before he throws a tantrum. With how his voice was getting louder and louder, a few figures turned to watch your exchange, and you can’t imagine the turmoil this will take on him once his parents find out– it’s better to get him out of there before he messes up even more badly.

His feet stumbling on the stairs outside, he mutters something under his breath as you drag his half-limp, half-stubborn body through the enormous land. The gardens are full of fairy lights and adults talking to each other in hushed whispers, laughter erupting out of their put-together figures every now and then, and you take some time before you finally manage to find a silent corner in one of the carefully mowed gardens, Chenle’s complains silencing after a while, admitting his fate.

Carelessly throwing his body towards one of the benches, the lighting dim in the corner, you watch as he takes a seat and looks at you with defeated eyes, the emptiness behind his gaze breaking you on so many levels you didn’t even think you could master; Zhong Chenle is a mess– has been a mess for a while now, and you didn’t notice– you didn’t do anything about it until now.

“What happened to you?!” you yelp out, voice betraying you somewhere towards the end of the sentence, sounding more desperate than you intended. Eyes scanning over his slouching body, you notice him playing with his fingers in his lap, an action of calming himself down that he’s picked up after you slapped his hands every time he tried to bite on his nails growing up, and you take a few steps around the place, running your fingers through your carefully styled hair.

“Don’t scold me like my mother,” Chenle grunts, rolling his eyes at your composure.

“No, Chenle, because I don’t get it,” you shake your head, looking him dead in the sparkless eyes, “I do not get it.”

When he offers you no explanation, rather just gazing your whole body up and down, eyes half-lidded, you presume he’s a bit out of it– the alcohol truly hitting his system now, making you result in a little tangent of yourself, because you presume everything’s better than his parent’s scolding, and maybe he just needs someone to wake him back to reality. “What happened, Chenle? What the actual fuck is going on lately? You don’t speak to anyone about it, you don’t tell me, out of all people–” a snicker leaves his lips to this, making you huff in frustration, “you don’t tell anyone how you’re feeling, and it’s eating you up from the inside, and believe me when I say, Chenle, it’s pretty damn heartbreaking to watch.”

Looking at him, you’re offered nothing but silence. His cheeks are rosy and puffed up from the alcohol, his frame is small– opposed to the power stance he usually takes– and you don’t think you’re getting a conversation from him any time soon. Ready to give up, you shake your head at him and scoff. “Okay, fine. You don’t have to talk to me, since you have an issue with the fact that I care about you more than I should,” you snap, agreeing to be petty with him, if this was how he was gonna play.

“I don’t talk to any of you, because you wouldn’t understand,” he says, voice almost a bit annoyed, tongue dipped in bitterness.

“We grew up together, Chenle. Our lives are pretty much the same, why the fuck would you think that I, out of all people, wouldn’t understand?”

“See, that’s the thing,” Chenle catches you off guard, charming in with an argument barely before you are able to finish the sentence, “our lives are pretty much the same, yet you love it. You fucking love it, all of you do– you love waking up in your little fancy bedrooms, doing great at school because if you don’t, your parents are going to threaten you with disowning you– and what else do you have if not your parents wealth that you coincidentally, also despise at the same time? You go shopping to your favorite mall with your equally wealthy friends, because you’re not allowed to befriend people that are lower class– that would just look fucking embarrassing in front of your parents’ contacts, wouldn’t it? You go to charity events and birthday celebrations of a guy you’ve never seen in your whole life before, just because someone told you to– and don’t you dare tell them you won’t go, because how the fuck are they gonna look all pretty in front of their business partners if their only son doesn’t attend a celebration of someone inheriting a share from their parents’ company– a thing you’re supposed to do as soon as you turn 20, if you don’t attend university they picked out for you instead. You go on fancy holidays and take pictures in front of all the attractions, and it doesn’t even feel special anymore, because you do this every month– and the only time you ever felt alive was when you were drunk and making out with someone that you shouldn’t even think about in that way in the first place, because it’s your parents’ friends’ daughter, and at the end of the day, they would just love the fact that we were together, because that could strengthen the business bond they have– the only reason why they’re friends in the first place, and I’m so fed up, I hate it, I despise it–” he stops to take a breath, his eyes getting glossy,

and suddenly, you’re helpless, you’re falling apart– because the issue is so much bigger than you anticipated and you don’t know how to do anything about it.

“And I don’t fucking feel real, Y/N, I don’t, and I don’t think I ever have, because I just wake up in the mornings and then somewhere along the way, I realise I’m alive and I laugh, because how could all of this be real? How could the money be real? How could anything be real, and– and it’s so confusing, because I should be grateful, but I’m not, because I can’t even fully grasp it,” he breathes, tears now streaking down his cheeks.

It feels like the whole world stopped for a moment; it feels like you are in a movie and someone pressed pause. You stare at him, you blink, and you pray for something to send you strength to deal with this, to tell you what to do or how to comfort him– because this must have felt so alone, and you can’t stand the image of Chenle ever being lonely.

Opening your mouth and closing it, you gasp for air. No words feel suitable for this kind of conversation, and so you just chime towards him– despite all your best assumptions– and hold him. Because at the end of the day, what helps more to ground someone back to earth than human touch?

Pads of your thumbs wipe at the teardrops strolling down his cheeks, every contact with the salty liquid hurting you, cutting through your skin like razor blades– because Chenle never cries, he never feels like something is worth indulging in enough to bring him to tears– and when he catches his trembling bottom lip in his teeth, you break; pulling him towards you and threading your fingers through his hair, the action once lullying him to sleep now used like a broken mantra– please be okay, please relax, please let me hold you until you’re glued back together again.

“I dunno what to do,” he shrugs, his head resting on your stomach, voice burrowing itself into the fabric of your expensive dress, “dunno where to go. ‘Cause Jun’s leaving, and Yizhuo’s gonna be busy with everything, and– and you’re moving across the fucking ocean, and I’m just– I turned everything down, because–” he says, voice breaking, and you shush him with a pat on his back, touch growing more affectionate.

“It’s okay,” you hum, “I got you,” you say; words he once told you at the golf cart, looking after you, or in the hotel room back in Japan when you were 6 and falling asleep, still scared of ghosts appearing in your bedroom– and you believed them, you always did, because Chenle was always there when you needed him– so you only pray he finds comfort in the sincere phrases, because what more is there to offer him?

His breathing grows steadier as you continue to play with his messy hair, his hands gently allowing themselves to wrap around your thighs, your standing figure shelved between his legs, and he laughs to himself, the whole situation kind of ironic to him now. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. ‘m kinda numb, you know, so it doesn’t even really hurt in the first place,” he says, and you wish you found the same humor in it than he did– or at least the bitter sense of soothing yourself with irony– but you can’t. Looking down at his body, latched to you like a lifeline, you wonder how you could ever leave him there alone, to deal with the burden by himself. How could you ever move so far away from him?

“My parents wanted me to go with you,” he starts, the sentence sparking up something inside of you, but he doesn’t pull away and meet your eyes when he continues, foreshadowing a sad ending to your hope, “they said I should study business at Yale as well, that it’s a great opportunity.”

You don’t reply to him, choosing not to push him. After a sigh, he continues. “And I didn’t get in, because, naturally, I was too stupid for it in the first place– no, I was–” he says when you gently slap the back of his head at the comment, “but then they paid the dean and suddenly I was allowed to go. Can you believe that?” he snickers bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Bad mouthed you for a thing I despised in myself, when you were the one that got in fair and square in the first place.”

“‘s okay,” you mumble, compassion dripping off your words.

“And I turned it down, ‘cause I hated the fact that they did that. I was okay with studying the fucking business program, even though I despised it, I was okay with moving across the world, because at least you’d be there, y’know, but I couldn’t bear the fact that they did that to get me in. I think I was too ashamed, too embarrassed, because they had to pay for me to get there, but– I don’t know…” he trails off, and you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“It’s okay to take opportunities that are presented to you, Lele,” you mumble, “I know you hate it, but you can’t change who you’re born to. The best you could do is to not waste all of this,” you say, trying to find a source of light in the deep abyss of his thoughts.

You try hard to solve the problem– to offer him a solution that could work, that could let him forget about the pain for at least a second– to wake him up from whatever deep thinking that got him into this mess. You try hard to solve the problem– but you don’t know how to deal with it. All you know is that you’re trying to pick up the patterns; you’d fit in his skin if you could, you’d crawl in and fix everything– but at the end of the day, as Yizhuo said, the only person you can fix is yourself.

“Bought,” he says, fixing your mistake, “opportunities that were bought for me. I couldn’t do it,” he says.

Huffing, indulging in a spare second of your own pain– a spare second of the despair eating you up from the insides, the helplessness you’ve been feeling ever since you were forcefully kicked out of Zhong Chenle’s life– and you didn’t even tell him you loved him in the first place before he got stuck in the fire of the woods; before you two started acting like it didn’t matter and always ended up in feuds– you mumble a comment, voice barely louder than a whisper, but he can hear it because of the closeness of your bodies in the few stray raindrops that come over you two once the clock strikes midnight.

“We could’ve lived together, you and me,” you say, “us against the whole world,” you comment– a childlike yearning spilling out of your lips, “we could’ve gone to Yale together and you’d figure something out along the way. Maybe– maybe you’d find a purpose if you moved, we could–”

“Y/N,” he shushes you, uttering out your name, finally breaking away from you as he looks up and gazes into the swimming pools of your eyes, shaking his head with a faint smile, “‘s okay. It wouldn’t have fixed anything anyway, it– it wouldn’t have helped.”

“But–”

“You can move, Y/N, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re taking yourself with you.”

August 20, 2020 – the backyard of your childhood house, Shanghai, 11:11 PM

You were never really that good at science– sure, your parents demanded you get good grades in every subject and your private school put quite the pressure on your education, but even though you always managed to pull satisfactory marks in exams, your understanding of the logistics sometimes lacked; you were much better at humanities or business-related courses, hearing enough at family dinners to find out your way through the lectures and apply the facts into examples from real life.

So, if anyone asked you how many stars there were in the universe, you wouldn’t be too confident in your answer. You wouldn’t know how to apply the Milky Way as your model– since it was said that it has around 100 billion stars alone– and multiply the part by the amount of galaxies in the universe– approximately 2 trillion– to get a number somewhere close to 200 billion trillion, also called 200 sextillion.

You wouldn’t know how to do any of that, or how to even count this amount without a calculator, so you’d take a more liberal arts approach– literary, even– and say, that on August 20, 2020, at 11:11 sharp in your backyard, gazing on to the deep, dark sky and wishing for a star to fall so you could propose a selfish wish that could change everything, there’s still not more stars there than in Zhong Chenle’s eyes when your gazes meet after your friends leave for the evening, leaving you with your neighbor completely alone.

And it’s strange, seeing him like this– maybe because you didn’t even realize how used to the dull and emotionless Chenle you’ve been all this time– but it warms something inside of your heart as you take a hesitant step towards him, the first one out of the whole evening, and take a seat next to him in the corner of your terrace, sighing to yourself.

“You actually came,” you note, seeing as he turns to you and furrows his eyebrows at you in confusion.

“Should I not have? I mean, by the text you sent me, it seemed like you wanted me here, but if I misread the situation, I can go…” he snickers, teasing you just the slightest as he nudges you to your side.

You hum, shaking your head in disapproval. “No,” you say, “I just… I dunno.”

“Expected me to ignore you?”

“Kinda,” you admit, snickering.

“Damn,” he giggles, “that’s fair, though. Considering the previous events, and all.”

Rolling your eyes at his composure, finally getting used to the old Chenle– the one that teases you over the smallest things, the one who doesn’t let his emotions show in his face– you watch him as he takes a seat on one of the rattan sofas and you follow him, body slouching next to his, feeling his head gently rest on your shoulder in the mere moment of silence between your two figures.

“Wouldn’t let you leave without seeing you for the last time,” he says, voice quiet and vulnerable, “god knows when I’ll see you again.”

“Chenle–”

“Just because you don’t want to talk about it doesn’t mean it’s not real,” he snickers, already knowing where your words are going– you’re going to try to stop him, tell him you don’t want to think about it right now, on the last evening at your house for the near future.

“I’d rather not think about that, y’know,” you huff, frustrated. The anxieties of leaving everything behind are clenching on your insides right now, holding you back from moving freely and with enthusiasm, and you wonder– if you knew how this would feel all those months ago– if you knew how terrifying and painful the whole process could be, would you still apply to Yale? Would you still want to go?

“Okay,” he dotes, tone of voice casual, like it’s not a big deal.

“Okay? Just like that?” you snicker, surprised at how easily he gave the topic up.

“Yeah. Don’t wanna make you sadder.”

Sitting in silence, you realize there’s so many words you’d like to say to him. You’d like to tell him just how much you’re gonna miss him and how you regret ruining the last few months you two had together, and how you’re sorry your feelings scared him to the point where he felt like he had no one to confide in. You’d like to tell him how you built a future with him in your brain, carefully placed him into your reality, only for him to break away from your grasp and go his own way, and how much it hurts, but how you’re always going to support him in whatever he chooses, because you care for him more than your little heart could take. You’d like to tell him how you’re gonna call him every day to check up on him, how you’re gonna send letters and press a secret kiss to each sheet of expensive paper you’ll get downtown, wishing he could feel the essence with the growing distance between you two. You’d like to ask him to visit you often– he’s gonna have more time on his hands, and god knows money’s not the issue. You’d like to selfishly tell him you find it hard to deal with the distance, and how you wish he wouldn’t find somebody else while you’re gone, and how you so dearly hope that somewhere in there, your feelings are silently reciprocated, but hidden away in fear of everything falling apart once again.

But instead, you don’t say anything. You tend to wait for him to speak up first– he’s always had a problem with talking too much in the first place, after all.

And he does– you can still predict his next moves. You know him that well.

“I’m gonna miss you, though,” he sighs, catching you off guard by saying something from the list of your silenced words, “don’t think that I won’t. Or that the way I’ll miss you is different than the way you’re gonna miss me,” he speaks, tone of voice laced in honesty and sincerity, his words heavy with the essence of what he’s never going to say out loud– or so you think.

“In what way?”

“I’m not gonna miss you like a friend misses a friend,” he says, “and I don’t mean the sex,” he snickers, brightening the mood with his comment.

Rolling his eyes at him, you feel him lift his head up from your shoulder, forcing you to look at him and meet his starry eyes again– the damn starry eyes that always make you spill the truth, because god knows you cannot lie to him– and you find yourself scanning his features, the structure of his bones you fear you’re gonna forget when you’re away, so desperately wanting to lock your lips with his for one last time, because when you come back one day, you may not have the right or chance to do so anymore.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, not a hint of teasing in his voice.

“You know why, Chenle.”

“Can you say it out loud?” he demands, and you shake your head– maybe it's best if the words are left unsaid. Doesn’t matter if they’re hanging in the air, for everyone to read.

“Why?”

“You know how I feel about you,” you snicker, “don’t make me say it out loud.”

Because even if you told him you loved him, it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make it all better, it wouldn’t make it all good– no matter how hard you wish that it would.

“Okay,” he nods, agreeing too fast again– and with that, he smiles, the gesture so soft and sudden, and there you are– you’ve got a caving heart in your open arms, and Chenle takes it, carelessly choking out the hushed confession, “I’m in love with you. If you don’t say it, I’m gonna, because… you deserve to know.”

Heart sinking into your stomach, you watch him, frozen in your place, for a while. Your eyes carefully scan every curve of his face– the curve of his lips, the curve of his cheeks, the hood of his eyes, his brows, the thousand stolen galaxies in his orbs and mouth glistening like honey, inviting you in. Snickering under your breath, you choose to not give in to the temptation.

“You’re only saying that because I’m leaving tomorrow,” you say, shaking your head.

“Maybe,” he agrees.

And you know that– you know that if you weren’t leaving, he wouldn’t tell you that he loves you. He wouldn’t allow himself to be this vulnerable, he wouldn’t tell you how he feels about you, because he had all this time– all those months and weeks spent with you in his bed, and you know his touches weren’t just shallow desire– and he never once said anything. He didn’t do anything about it, and now that there is nothing more to do about it, nothing that could change the trajectory of either of your lives, he chooses to speak it to the universe; because it doesn’t change anything, it can’t possibly do so– and so he doesn’t have to fear the consequences, he doesn’t have to fear the attachment that comes with such confession.

And for a minute, you think it’s selfish. You think it’s laughable, ironic, even, but you accept it.

His hand reaches for yours, interlocking your fingers with his when he launches you forward into him, arms gently enveloping your body when your head settles itself to the curve of his shoulder. You stay like this for a while, in his hold again, breathing in his scent and trying to remember it for weeks and months before you’re able to smell it again, letting out a nosy question out of your lips– and truly, you don’t know why you do so, when you know the answer to it already anyway. Maybe you just want to hear it again.

“So… you do have feelings for me too, after all?”

He stays quiet for a while, before he softly laughs into your hair. “Yeah,” he nods, “but it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re leaving for Yale tomorrow, aren’t you?”

And he’s right– you are. Thinking for a while, feeling him place a shy peck to the crown of your head– the only kiss you two allow yourselves at this point of time– you come to the conclusion that even though you love him, care for him like you’ve never cared for another before, you wouldn’t change a thing about your plan– wouldn’t change the trajectory of your whole life, wouldn't stay in Shanghai, wouldn’t drop out of university, wouldn’t stop everything because of him, because in a way, you strangely have it all figured out.

And he doesn’t.

And you pray that one day, he’ll find the purpose in all the potential he holds in his hands.

#nct dream #chenle #nct #nct x reader #chenle x reader #chenle angst #chenle fluff #chenle oneshot #chenle fic #chenle imagine #chenle fanfic #chenle best friends to lovers #chenle au #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream x reader #nct fluff #nct angst

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psychelis-new · 3 months

Text

pick a pile: "How people view you through your (main) social media account?"

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to find out what people may think of you or how they may perceive you from what they see of you (what you allow them to see of you and your life) on your most used/most followed social media account. thank you Anon for your suggestion!

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

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1 2 3

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pile 1

People see you as someone private/reserved. You may be sharing photos or words if something really happens and you really feel like sharing about it but even more... when you remember. You may not be that social (at least online in specific contexts). Or maybe you don't have too much time to spend online for fun and you rather just scroll through your feed and enjoy random stuff (art, videos, photos especially by famous creators/memes or such. You rather be entertained than entertain). You may filter what you post/say or you literally add different filters on or edit your photos/videos a lot... Anyway the result is pretty pleasing to the eye, maybe you follow a certain pattern in your posts (aesthetically, so you cannot always post pictures if they don't resonate with the whole page).

It seems you kinda hide part of yourself or what you do, it feels like you're mysterious/there's more about you; but you don't have to do it (=be this reserved/mysterious) on purpose, it may just be your way to behave online. As said you may just post occasionally also cause you may not like social medias that much or feel too comfortable with them (maybe you don't enjoy the drama around them, the people lurking on you or you don't want to really be seen/found by too many people; some of you may fear your account being found by someone you don't want to discover you or you had bad experiences with someone stalking you and now you're trying to act differently online and use a more-difficult-to-be-recognized nickname and persona). Maybe some of you created an account somewhere just to try how it works or what can happen. You more likely have a specific social media you like and feel good at using and sharing stuff on, while you may not like many others (let's say you feel good on tumblr but not on insta/fb/tiktok/x..., for example). Some of you may even have a private account you made viewable basically only to friends. Wait... maybe you're the one lurking on others (at least to an extent)? If it's so, all I'm gonna say now is: please try to work on your demons before bringing them out on others.

song: i see red | everybody loves an outlaw

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pile 2

I heard "break the internet". So maybe you're some type of internet famous (every post reaches lot of public and gets interactions easily) or you may actually use socials for marketing or work in communication/advertising or something like that. Maybe you are in charge for someone's/some associations' feed or like a shop or something. Anyway, you seem to share good vibes and bring support and encouragement to others. You may share your values (or those the brand you work for represents) too, not just what you do for fun or how to make the best of what you have. And you may have created a large public/community around you, even if you don't know. People do see you as inspiring and really like to know about you or hear from you. You may bring comfort and relief, make them feel special and heard/seen. I don't feel like you have many haters or if you do, they don't seem to be too communicative about their feelings: maybe they also fear you or something. Maybe you also don't care much about them: well done! For a few: you'd like to become famous online and trying to go viral anytime you can or you'd like to work with social medias (even as a social media manager).

We all know social medias have particular rules and in order to make it you need to keep in mind different aspects of your communication, schedule things in advance when possible and be constant (ofc there may be a lucky post, but it needs to be supported by others). But anyway, you kinda have "it"? It seems you have good ideas, you're fun, you give entertainment and many different occasions for interactions with your public: this helps your image/work spread around. You may have a good amount of followers/public waiting for your next post, you may also be good at creating the right hype about it. And ofc, you're good also at what you do, like the main subject of your feed: eg. let's say you're a photographer, you're pretty talented at taking photos; same if you're an astrologer, you're very good at reading charts. But you're also good at how you communicate/share about yourself when you aren't posting about your specific "field". If you're not there yet, I think you mostly need to work on the boring part of this, like learning how to work properly on each platform as all of them have their own rules. It can be really really boring, but if you have the passion and will, and you're ready to say goodbye to holidays for a while... it's worth it. This is also why it's important that you find what works for you.

Ofc, remind yourself of yourself. You're important, you have needs and... it's good to show them to others too. You may at times not share about your lows, and keep them for yourself, but they're part of life as well. You won't lose followers if you do this. I think they'd appreciate you even more. And... having lot of followers won't make your loneliness better. Sure they seem to care about you but, not everyone can stay through ups and downs, they're there mostly for what you give them (find your balance here). Just needed to remind some of you about this. Keep working on yourself, while you also enjoy your time online. Try to not make of it another reason of stress, go with the flow.

song: they don't really know | enbound

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pile 3

I think people see you as very pretty and young. You may seem naive on occasion, kinda childish-like but not in a negative way. People thinks you're cute mostly. I get very feminine and young energy here, no matter what is your gender (if you recognize yourself in any). You may also be a nostalgic person and may like to share events/things from the past, maybe you also like to take photos with polaroids or analog cameras or you add a pretty nostalgic filter/editing to your photos. You may also share inside jokes with your friends or family on social medias.

I think you may have not been that much into social medias at first or you weren't good at using them well, but now you're enjoying them more. You use them mostly to keep in touch with friends, share about your parties/nights out or travels, and every funny event you may happen to be around/join. You may like to post photos/videos taken with your friends indeed. You may end up occasionally posting the wrong stuff by accident like you may share on public some photos you should keep on private and similar but all in all people see you as a funny character. Maybe a little clumsy, but very much pretty and cute. You may also use social medias to too keep yourself updated about celebrities and to gossip with your friends too. I feel like you may be using eg. insta and share pics of your travels, of gifts, shopping/spa days with friends and maybe pics of yourself in beautiful places all taken by your friends. Or maybe by your partner. I get more likely a group of at least 3-4 people tbh but ofc I could be wrong, and it could also be family. I feel some influencer-style vibes here. Kinda aesthetic posts, but more in the sense of the vibe you give through them. Again like, lot of fun and interesting stuff going on in your life. An... autumn-core (does this exist?), cottagecore, travelcore, studycore, whatever brownish-pastels-core you feel like may pertain. Yeah you may be sharing a lot also about your studies those very aesthetically pleasing well written notes or images of you drinking coffee in front of a computer. Since I feel a young energy it may resonate with you still being a student or at the initial stages of a job but ofc it doesn't have to. You may also be studying abroad hence why you share a lot about travels and try to keep in touch with family/friends also through socials and the nostalgic vibe I got in the beginning.

song: don't cry | guns'n'roses (I hope you're really not crying darling... unless you need to ofc)

#pac #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a card tarot #pick a photo #pick a picture #pick a card #divination #clairs readings #psychic readings #social medias #tarot readings #intuitive readings #tarotblr #tarot readers #tarotcommunity

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sfehvn · 6 months

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intruder part 2

Part 1 | Part 3

Description: A year has since came and went following Astarion's ascension ritual. He is no longer himself, but then... Where is he? A/N: Forewarning, there is a brief portion detailing non-con voyeurism. Hope you all enjoy :) Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 1656 Characters: ascended!Astarion x Tav

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“What do you think you will do once this is over?” Astarion’s head rested in your lap, your fingers running through silky white hair.

“I suppose I’ll just-” You stopped for a moment hesitantly, “Well, I’ll just follow you. I’ll follow you wherever you go. Whatever that entails.”

The large tub of warm water offered your mishandled skin the slightest inkling of comfort. Your bones ached to jump out of your skin, discomfort settling deep and unforgivingly. Unsure if this was the work of cruel touches or the utter disgust you felt for whatever was puppeteering Astarion around. You stare at the ceiling as if the answer to the problem in your mind is etched into it. Astarion was in there, trapped. You try to imagine what he must be thinking. Feeling.

You can’t help but notice the similarities of where you two have ended up. While Astarion was stuck in darkness in the literal sense, you are trapped in a different type of darkness. Shrouded by the darkness of the other Astarion’s thumb. You were a plaything, a pet, a toy.

“Eyes on me.” Astarion grunts out, buried deeply in a twenty-something human’s cunt. The sight turns your stomach viscerally. It’s not him, you try to remind yourself. You watch from the oak chair in the corner of your bed chamber, allowing yourself to dissociate entirely. The woman was beautiful.

Hair of sunshine and eyes of the vast waters, you knew of the woman’s fate. To end up another spawn for Astarion to toy with. Humans in the area who had come to learn of Astarion’s true nature came with the proposition of trades in exchange for immortality. You felt pity for her. If she knew what she was getting into, she would never have come here, indeed. Nobody could want this.

“He would have liked her too.” Astarion taunted as he led the woman to your bed, plans to desecrate the one place in the manor that you were able to find an ounce of comfort in. “Maybe I’ll let the dear old Astarion come out for a bit of fun.” Your heart sinks to your knees. The thought of another using Astarion’s body and soul for their own heinous intentions. You couldn’t bear it.

“Please don’t.” You pleaded with him.

Astarion tuts as he presses you down onto the chair. For whatever reason, he doesn’t follow through with his threat. Was it mercy? No, that can’t be it. Perhaps he simply wanted the enjoyment of watching the pain on your face while he used the body of the man you love to hurt you. Maybe he wanted the fun. You would never be sure.

You’re brought back to the present, the events of last night spinning in your mind. Your punishment for entertaining the incident. That’s what he called it, anyway. You longed to free him, to free yourself along with him. To leave this cursed manor and never return with the real Astarion in tow.

How?

The question that had been on your mind since your meeting with Astarion as you prepared for bed. How does one free a soul from a damnation such as this? Out of all the beasts, villains, and monsters you’ve fought, none had prepared you for a feat of this nature. On the precipice of jumping into the unforgiving sun and turning yourself into ash, that was no longer an option. Your beloved needed help. You weren’t going to abandon him.

The opening of the door jolted you from your thoughts, and you let out a sigh of relief upon seeing your chambermaid. “Lady Ancunin, may I be of assistance?” You nod, allowing the woman to approach the tub. You sit up to give her access to your wet hair. There was silence as she worked the knots from your strands, only sounds of meager discomfort when she tugged too hard, always followed by a heartfelt sorry from her. “What was he like?” There was a pause with her words, almost as if she expected to be scolded. Though, you both knew you wouldn’t dare. “I mean before-” She trails cautiously.

“Wonderful. He is wonderful, Alodia.” Your eyes were glued to the bath water that engulfed your body. Lowering your voice as if someone other than her would hear, “Maybe you will have the pleasure of meeting him someday.”

Alodia nods, “I bet he was a real gentleman to have someone such as yourself.” She couldn’t comprehend why you were with him, you could tell. Someone with such a kind soul forever paired with another who may as well be a devil ruling the Nine Hells.

“Careful.” You whisper, eyeing the door. No conversation went too long without Astarion’s knowledge, not even amidst nothing but the bars of soap that clean you. Alodia understood and continued to work through your hair without another word. It was clear you were just as much a prisoner as her.

Once your hair was tied into two careful braids and an obnoxious velvet gown clung to your body, you sat in the manor’s library. With Astarion out for the night, you made yourself comfortable with every piece of literature between the walls of your confinement. The stack of books grew as the night grew darker and darker. How much time had passed, you were unsure. You slammed down the last book and glanced around. A frantic sob erupted from your chest, heaving. You laid your head on the table before you and wallowed into the oak of the desk.

You were defeated. Hopeless. This godsdamn library had every composition, novel, and prose that you could think of, and not one aided you. Trance-like, you stood from the desk and made your way to the entry of the manor. A voice briefly stops you, “Lady Ancunin, I don’t believe Master Ancunin has granted you-”

“Tell Master Ancunin to burn in the Nine Hells.” You spit back, making your exit.

It had been too long. Once you’re out of the manor’s view, you breathe in the fresh air about you. As you get further into the heart of the city, chatter cultivates. Even in the middle of the night, it was lively, bringing you a hope you had not felt for a long time. Even reflecting on what punishment may await you once Astarion learns of your absence, you deemed this worth it. Of course. You would have preferred the warmth of the sun. Given your ailment, the beauty of the moon did just fine.

Strolling to Elfsong Tavern, you hummed an incandescent tune to yourself. My, this must have been the most airy you’ve felt in just shy of a year. The little bit of gold you managed to snag from Astarion’s stash may have just been enough to get you a drink and, if lucky, a room. You knew it was only a matter of time before he came looking for you. Maybe you’ll be banished to the dungeon. You didn’t allow yourself the time to think too hard. You approach the barkeep, looking at the selection behind him. “Wine? Have you got red wine?” You were a tad rusty in the socialization department.

The man behind the counter chuckles, “We do indeed.” He retrieves a bottle from behind the counter, preparing a glass. “What troubles you?” He inquires as you watch the red liquid spout into spotless glass.

“Whatever could you mean?” Your lips are pursed, accepting the drink as he offers it. You dig into your coin purse, “How much do I owe?”

“On the house.” He smiles. Alas, it would be warmer without the pity that lies so evident beneath the surface. You’d forgotten how ill you must have looked. Astarion’s words played over in your head.

“Gods, what has he done to you?”

“Alan Alyth.” The man offers. An introduction? It had been well over a year since you had the pleasure of introducing yourself.

“Tav Carmine.” You return before making your way to an empty table in the corner of the lightly occupied room. You bring the glass to your lips, and the dry liquid soothes your nerves for the time being. I will enjoy this, you thought to yourself.

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” Astarion declares, his fingertips gliding across the delicate skin of your hipbone, up to your chest, cupping your exposed breast in his hand. His thumb moves in careful circles around your nipple. He sits upon his knees, watching the way your body reacts to even the smallest of his touch. His other hand moves comfortably onto your cheek, almost as if he’s relishing in the warmth that radiates from your body.

“You’ve only told me fifty times today. Are you feeling alright?” You teased, welcoming his cool touch across your eager body. His head dips, meeting your lips lovingly. One of your hands knots gently into his hair, and you shift so a leg rests on either side of his toned body.

“I suppose I’ll have to work on it tomorrow. Tonight, I’ll be making love to said beautiful woman.” His words are a prayer against your lips, and your heart flutters against your ribcage.

“I’ve been expecting you.”

The unknown voice causes your head to snap up in attention. “I’m sorry, have we met?” You try to recall the face, maybe someone you became acquainted with during one of many adventures, but you just cannot place them. You tip the glass to your lips, eyes never leaving the stranger in front of you.

“I don’t believe we have.” They helped themselves to the chair across from you. “I believe I can help you. I know what ails you.” The man is older, with brown hair peppered in grey roots. His eyes radiate a sort of enthusiasm.

“You couldn’t possibly know what ails me.” You chortle, though the sarcasm is evident in your laugh.

“Everything has led you straight to me. Try me.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

#ascended!astarion x tav #ascended!astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #x reader #bg3 #reader insert #ascended astarion

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imagine-that-100 · 3 months

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Will We Talk? | Part 4 |

Description of Part 1: Alex Turner x Reader | Being Katie Cook’s best friend means you see a lot of a certain band, so it’s too bad that the lead singer can’t seem to stand being in your presence. You’re all too aware that you get chatty when you’re anxious, and despite being around each other for a decade, Alex still makes your heart race (and not in a good way). But then he asks a question you never expected to hear, and it changes everything: “Do I make you nervous?”

Word Count: 18.2k

A/N: It's finally here oh my lord. Once again so sorry my writing takes so long these days but I'm so excited about this chapter. Thank you for the suggestions I got after I dropped the teaser, really appreciate all the help and it got my mind back into writing mode again. After this there's only one part left, but its going to be fun so don't fret. Really hope you enjoy this part, please let me know what you think. Thank you so so much for reading. Enjoy x

| My Masterlist |

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

The run up to Christmas was fun. Fucking Alex every other day of the week had been a surprisingly needed stress relief that a month ago you would have never foreseen. Usually the run up to Christmas had you stressed for no reason in particular but this year with your stresses finally being relieved every other night it was so much better than other Christmas breaks you’ve had in a long time.

Alex had certainly been making the most of your arrangement. It was him texting or calling you asking, “Are you free tonight?” Which may as well be directly translated to ‘Do you want to fuck me tonight?’. Every single time you said yes, not depriving yourself of such simple pleasures and it led to you having a very relaxed holiday season.

And now Christmas is over and done with, you were excited for tonight’s New Year’s party. So much so that you couldn’t sit at home and just wait to get ready, you ended up texting Katie and asking her if you could help her set up and thankfully she said yes.

For the past hour you’ve been listening to music and hearing the Cook's Christmas stories of Forest getting all excited when he opened each present. She showed you a couple of videos before Jamie took the little man out for the afternoon while you both got the house ready for tonight.

Your catch ups are the best and you adore your best friend so much. The gossiping and the giggling never ceases and you’re forever finding new things to talk about, it’s a miracle you’ve not discovered everything there is to know about each other after a decade of being best friends.

But it turns out there are some things you are yet to discover. Like a certain holiday that was being planned.

“You’re coming on the impromptu trip away with us, right?” Katie asks, a little out of the blue as if she’s just remembering as she unpeels the Happy New Year banners from each other and handing one to you.

“Depends, when?” You tell her, knowing the dates of this trip will be the deal breaker if you can go, “I’m back in work on the ninth, remember?”

You’ve joined the Cooks on impromptu trips away before, both with their family and their friends. You’re always invited, which you find thoughtful of Katie and knowing that these trips tend to be very random, you’d started saving money for such events so you didn’t find yourself missing out. The only time you denied yourself was when the trips clashed with work which you hope isn’t the case this time.

“Oh, we come back on the seventh.” Katie grins, very pleased with what you’ve just said, “You’re coming.”

“Yeah,” You find yourself giggling at her, knowing she probably wouldn’t take no for an answer anyway. You continue putting up the party decorations as you tell her, “Just let me know how much it is and I’ll scramble it together.”

“Oh no, Alex is paying for us all,” She tells you, as she seems to be having a hard time stretching the balloons out to start blowing them up, “You just need spending money.”

You immediately frown hearing that, bluetacking the banner on the wall and turning towards your best friend to ask, “What?”

“Alex is paying.” She tells you, “It’s for his birthday. Has he not told you about it yet?”

“No, he’s not mentioned it.” You tell her.

You figure it’s best to neglect mentioning how the singer only talks to ask how you are before he ends up saying the filthiest things into your ear as he fucks you senseless. Holidays and other things normal friends would talk about are not on the cards.

He comes over. You fuck. He leaves. Interaction complete.

“Oh well, he probably expected me to ask you.” Katie shrugs, not thinking much of it, “But yeah don’t worry about the money, he’s paying.”

You’ll see about that, you think as you continue helping your best friend decorate, putting the singer out of your head for the time being.

~*~*~*~

I need to speak to you

You text the singer as you’re walking home from Katie’s. You thought about just leaving it but you know if you keep what you're feeling bottled in it will just make you go back into your shell when you’re around him, and that’s the last thing either of you want.

Thankfully those thoughts don’t have enough time to fester because about 2 minutes later Alex texts you back.

Christ

Am I in trouble? x

His response makes you roll your eyes as you can practically hear him asking you. You know for a fact he will have snorted when he got the message through and when he typed that one back to you. So you keep him in limbo for a bit.

You’re not funny

Phone me when you’re free.

Thankfully you’re not waiting for ages for the call. Your phone starts ringing as you turn the corner and head down your road. It’s a little embarrassing how excited you are to get back in your house for a bit and just relax until the party later.

After greeting him, Alex gets straight to the point, “What’s up Y/N?”

“About this holiday,” You start, “Katie told me she wants me to come and I want to know how you feel about that before I start to spiral.”

You can already sense the panic in your chest as you feel like you’re at a bit of a stalemate. You don’t want to let Katie down but you’re also definitely not going to go if Alex wants a break from you. You don’t want to intrude on his holiday. Especially one that’s for his birthday.

“Don’t spiral.” Alex begs, and you swear he’s also outside as you can almost hear the way he takes a drag of a cigarette before he says, “The last thing we need is you spiralling and questioning everything again.”

You can picture the smile tugging at his lips as he says that. So much so that him finding your panic amusing means that you silently want to scorn him.

“I’m well aware of that.” You say a little bit too bluntly, so you attempt to soften the blow when you follow up with a rhetorical, “Why do you think I asked you to call me?”

Alex definitely mutes a laugh, covering it by him pretending to clear his throat. To make sure he doesn’t get himself into trouble he distracts you by asking, “What’s panicking you now?”

“The holiday.” You take a deep breath before you start to vent your worries, “Apparently it’s for your birthday, I don’t know if you want me there with what’s going on with us. The fact that you’re apparently paying... I don’t want you paying for me if I come.”

“I did tell Katie to invite you if she wanted to.” Alex reveals.

“That’s not the point. Do you want me there?” You ask him directly, “I don’t want to intrude on a holiday that’s for your birthday.”

Alex takes a second to answer that, not because it’s a difficult answer but mostly because he wants to know, “If we weren’t sleeping together would you come?”

You think about it for a second and realise that you probably would, but not without speaking to him and asking Katie at least 30 times if you were actually welcome. Not to mention trying not to interact with him much when you were out there. And you certainly would not be allowing him to pay for you.

“I still would have double checked with you first, or got Katie to. But that doesn’t matter, it’s different now,” You start talking about your reality again, “The dynamic has changed.”

“Y/N, we were friends anyway,” Alex sighs and you’re glad he can’t see the way your face contorted in disagreement. “The only thing that’s different this time is that we’ve seen each other naked.”

You almost scoff.

You’ve done a lot more than see me naked, sir.

Feeling flustered at the memories of him fucking you flooding back to your mind, you just get back to the point, “So, do you want me there or not?”

And you listen to his response as you unlock your front door and get into your house. Feeling the absence of the chill from outside makes the singers answer all the more bearable.

“I just want you to do whatever you want to. You can come and have a holiday. I don’t expect anything from you if that’s what you’re worried about.” Alex says sincerely, before adding, “And I am paying.”

“I don’t want you to pay Alex,” You whine like a child not getting their own way. But you add honestly, “It makes me uncomfortable.”

And it’s not even just because you’re fucking him, although that is your main concern. It’s the fact that you’ve barely known him properly before now (and you still wouldn’t say you were all that close in any way but physically), you can’t in your right mind let him spend thousands on a skiing holiday for you.

“Y/N, I didn’t invite you to make you feel uncomfortable.” The singer sighs, feeling like you should know this already.

He’s not ever excluded you from something before and he’s certainly not about to start doing so now. And he’s not letting you pay for yourself when everyone else who is coming is paid for already. Christ, he doesn’t really know why this is even a conversation when everything has already been sorted and paid for in advance.

You feel like you’re whining when you again admit, “I know that’s not the intention but I still feel it Alex.”

“Well, it’s up to you.” Alex shrugs, hoping to convey how much he’s unbothered by the fact he’s paying for a holiday, but he doesn’t want to pressure you. “You’re very welcome to come and I’m paying for everyone, not just you.”

“But-“ You start but then stop yourself.

Alex immediately questions, “But what?”

He would rather know what’s going on in your head rather than be left guessing. He needs to know how best to reassure you otherwise you both will just regress. And he doesn’t think that wanting for your honesty is too much to ask.

You can’t bring yourself to say it. So you just leave him with silence.

But that silence speaks volumes.

“You worried that if I pay for you to come I’m expecting you to shag me?” A few beats of silence pass and as you don’t dismiss him entirely, he already knows it to be true. His question is entirely rhetorical, “That’s it, isn’t it?”

You can’t even confirm it for him. It’s embarrassing to admit, but that is a worry of yours.

“Y/N.” Alex sighs, knowing he’s right because of your silence. “I don’t expect anything from you, you know that right? You can come away with us and we don’t have to do anything.”

“It’s not compulsory, even when we’re home. Y/N/N, you’re Katie’s best friend, you’ve been around for ten years.” He backs up his point some more, “You came on the last holiday we went on, this is going to be no different to that. My birthday just happens to fall on a day whilst we’re there.”

“You didn’t pay for me last time Al.” You argue in a slight huff, already feeling like you’re fighting a losing battle.

“Hey, listen to me.” Alex persists, “I’m paying for everyone to come, not just you, and I’m not expecting a huge orgy all week.”

You can help the laugh that escapes your lips at that. It’s a full giggle that the singer can’t help but grin at as he takes another drag of his cigarette.

“There’s that laugh.” He hums, enjoying the sound even more purely because it’s him that’s caused it.

Only after your laughter subsides, do you ask, a lot calmer now, “Are you sure you want me there?”

“Yes, sweet.” Alex assures you. And just to convince you some more, he adds, “I need someone to entertain Mrs Cook when I pull Jamie away for a pint anyway. Think you fit the brief.”

“Ah yeah, I think I could do that for you.” You chuckle a little, but then you’re serious in a soft tone, “I still feel bad that you’re paying though Alex. Skiing holidays are a lot of money.”

“I have a lot of money that I’ll never need.” The singer tells you, and you try not to think about the way anxiety in your chest dissipates when he says, “I’d rather treat my friends to a week away.”

You're his friend. Something so simple shouldn’t make your heart swell. Especially when the other night he tongue fucked you until you came, twice.

“Well I’m buying you food and drinks whilst we’re away then.” You counter, finally readying yourself to admit defeat.

“We’re going all inclusive but thanks.” You can almost hear Alex’s smirk.

You sigh, dropping down onto your settee and leaning back to try and get comfy, “Well I’m assuming we won’t be staying in the hotel for your birthday. They’ll be pubs and cafes I’m sure.”

He counters, “I’ll take a drink at the airport before we go.”

“Okay deal.” You accept but know you’ll find ways to do more than just that, “Thank you Alex. You really don’t have to do this.”

“Well I want to.” Alex smiles, and his tone is full of amusement as he says, “And I can’t have you spiralling.”

You hum in a silent laugh at that and let your eyes close as you take a deep breath. You’re about to tell him that it’s just how you are but you’re okay now you’ve spoken about it. But he takes your attention again.

“You know that this goes both ways right, Y/N/N?” You’re about to ask him what he’s on about until he continues, “If I text you asking to come over, you can say no and I’m not going to be offended by it. I understand that it’s not going to happen every time.”

He’s talking about fucking you. And trying to make you feel more at ease about your situationship.

Alex finishes off by saying, “I just ask on the off chance that you’re up for it.”

“I am always up for it.” Are the words that slip from your lips, and when you realise what you’ve said, your eyes shoot open.

Oh my god woman, you sound so needy. Backtrack now. Now!

You sit up as you begin to pathetically backtrack, “Well. I mean, I- when you say you are, I, I- usually am too.”

“Good to know you’re always up for me, sweet,” You can hear Alex's smirk then, but thankfully he doesn’t tease you more for it he just carries on to say, “It seems like I’m texting you all the time asking to come over but you can text me. You’re allowed to get horny too.”

You try and fail not to flush at hearing him say that. Especially when you can feel the ghost of his touch as you’re sitting on the settee he had you ride him on a week ago.

“Alex, you’re over twice a week, if not more... It’s not like I’m without relief for long.” To drive the point home you say, “It’s not a ten month wait again.”

In your little meetings you’d discussed when you’d both last been with someone else. Yours was a guy you were seeing at the beginning of the year who turned out to just not do it for you after you dated him for a few months.

Alex’s last fling was another rebound of his after the French girl he cheated on Taylor with. Turns out Alex hadn’t been with anyone in the last 5 months which did surprise you a little. But who are you to presume he’d just become a slag after his break up?

“Still. We started this for a reason.” Alex drives the point home, wanting you to fully understand, “You can say no and you can call me whenever you want too.”

You nod even though he can’t see you, “I know.”

“Maybe this holiday can just be the friends you’re so persistent we’re not.”

You frown, confused, “What?”

“Your rule, ‘no sex while we’re away’.” Alex smirks, but he’s sincere when he says, “To make you feel more comfortable.

“I don’t wanna seem like a prude Alex I just don’t…” You fail to continue your sentence, Wanna seem like a prostitute.

“I think of all people, I’m not the one who’s going to think of you as a prude, sweet.” The singer can't help but tease, finding himself funny.

You take a deep breath, trying not to let your amusement or embarrassment show, “So where are we going?”

“The Alps.” The singer tells you almost smugly, “Where else?”

You decide that you may as well ask him for the details if he’s sorting everything out, “When do we go?”

“Early morning of the second, we need to be at the airport for like four.” He tells you after a moment of thought.

You hum, finally letting the excitement for a holiday bubble in your stomach, “Okay.”

Alex is smiling already hearing you finally sound at ease about the holiday, but he can’t help but push his luck a little more, “You free tonight, sweet?”

“No and neither are you,” You almost laugh, the amusement clear in your voice, “We’ve got Katie’s New Year’s party.”

Alex is grinning as he comes back with, “I mean at like three in the morning.”

“You’re a horny fuck.” You can’t help but tell him as you shake your head.

You’re entirely unable to stop your face from flushing, making you very grateful he can’t see you. All you hope is he’s picturing you with a completely unbothered yet

“You’re the one that just said you’re always up for me.” Alex counters and you have to bite your tongue.

Idiot Y/N.

“See you later Alex.” You immediately dismiss him, not wanting his teasing right now.

Alex laughs loudly, “See you later sweet.”

~*~*~*~ January 2nd 2019 ~*~*~*~

The Alps are absolutely mesmerising and you could stare at the snow covered mountains for days. The trip was certainly worth every single ounce of effort and you know you’ll be eternally grateful to Alex for him bringing you all here.

You’re sure when you first got here you looked like a child in a toyshop. The views are absolutely stunning and you know for a fact that your jaw was agape as you took in the breathtaking scenery around you.

So much so that Alex turned you towards him at one point and pushed your jaw back up and quietly teased, “Don’t let anyone else see those pretty lips parted like that, don’t want people getting ideas.”

Needless to say, you flushed hearing that and Alex wasn’t subtle about the way he let his smirk take over his face. And then he left you hanging, sauntering off to join Miles, Nick, and Jamie walking just in front of you, leaving you to catch up with Katie, Kristen, and Flo who all joined you for the holiday.

Alex leaving you like this hadn’t been the only time since you’d woken up early today though. He’d been a tease since he picked you up to take you to the airport, asking if you’d recovered from the previous nights activities where he all but folded you into a pretzel and fucked you until you came on his cock.

That wasn’t the beginning or end of your antics after the party, he’d teased you at Katie’s party, getting you in the mood and ready for him when he pulled you to a quieter bit of the party and pushed you against the wall to kiss you, taking away any sense but him. And he did it every time to leave you wanting more only for him to pull away and leave you to your own devices for a while.

So you were desperate when it got to 3am and he was practically pulling you down the road so you could get back to your house. And he certainly did show you a good time until you practically passed out from the exhaustion.

You woke up late the next morning to a glass of water and some painkillers on your bedside table along with a note that read, Hope you’re not too sore sweet x

It wasn’t hard to guess he probably felt a hint of guilt how far you’d both gone the night before. In the heat of the moment he said somethings about him wanting you to remember him, the feel of him inside you, over the week that you were both away.

He kept making you regret the no sex on holiday rule. Alex kept saying how you'd be begging him to take you when you got back home, how you’d not be able to walk properly by the time he’d finished with you after a week of not touching him the way he knows your filthy mind craves him.

You're ashamed to admit that your thoughts about him are sometimes so dirty they belong down the gutter. He’d certainly made a good job of having you long for him.

You try not to admit to yourself that you crave him. That when he decided that he was the one that was going to be sitting next to you on the plane and not Flo, you were happy. Not because you had any issue with Flo, no she was such an amazing friend to you, but because it was Alex. And he wanted to sit beside you.

The little shit that he was though teased you the whole journey. You were still tired so when you sighed and closed your eyes once you’d relaxed after the take off, Alex whispered into your ear, “Did I work you too hard sweet?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You say as you feel yourself flush knowing he was to do with your fatigue.

You slept in a little on New Year’s Day after you’d taken the painkillers he’d left out for you, but then your day was spent packing for this trip, figuring out what you’d need and calling Katie to double checking on if you’d need going out clothes and doing a checklist of the skiing things you actually own.

By the time you went to bed it was 11pm and that was far later than you should have been going to sleep because you had to be up at 3am to get ready. So it was do to Alex fucking you hard and long enough on New Years and the fact you had so little sleep last night that you were tired on the plane.

Next, he’s disturbing your attempt at sleep by him putting his hand on your thigh and leisurely trailing his hand up and down, mixed with him occasionally squeezing. He keeps an eye on your reaction to him, you going stiff for a few seconds and him taking great pleasure in saying, “I’ve done worse than putting my hand on your thigh, sweet.”

“Not in public or daylight.” You huff and try to get yourself comfy enough to get sleepy.

Looking out of the window just has you mesmerised so after a few minutes you just end up looking around the plane. It's just you and Alex sitting beside each other and for some reason you’re not all that close to your friends.

Katie, Kirsten, and Flo are all on one row, about 4 seats ahead of you, and Miles, Jamie, and Nick are on the row behind them. You’ve got no idea why you’re so far away from them with the gap of strangers in front of you, but you guess things could be worse. You could be sitting alone or worse, you could be at home feeling like you’re missing out.

There’s a stranger beside Alex so you’re glad you took the window seat and the views of sun rising through the clouds were amazing. You genuinely wish you weren’t as tired as you were so you could appreciate them fully.

Instead you’re feeling uncomfortable and whichever way you lean your head isn’t helping you relax. If it's against the wall of the plane you can feel the vibrations, just leaning back does nothing to help and if you do fall asleep like that you’re not risking possibly snoring because your jaw is hanging open, and if you let your head fall forward that’s not good for your posture, not to mention painful.

Maybe it’s you wriggling in your seat that gives you away, considering his hand is still on your thigh, but Alex seems to pick up on your discomfort easily.

“You can lean on me to go to sleep, you know?” Alex tells you with a smile, nodding down to his shoulder just beside you.

“What,” You hold back your sigh but let him know that you’re not all that impressed with his offer after his previous antics, “So you can just try to wake me up even more?”

“Come on sweet.” Alex chuckles, rubbing your thigh again before squeezing it. “Not my fault you’re not finding it relaxing.”

Pretending that him gripping your thigh didn’t give you flashbacks to the other night, you keep your voice quiet as you raise your eyebrows accusingly, “Because you’re trying to be a tease.”

“And it’s working.” Alex smirks, clearly knowing whatever your tells are by now, he gestures to the back of the plane, “Wanna go to the bathroom?”

Its a mixture of shock and being entirely unimpressed that has you asking, “Are you kidding?”

“Absolutely not.” Alex grins, holding his chuckle as he asks, “We’re not on holiday yet, technically. We could go again if you're not feeling satisfied enough before we land?”

You don’t dignify him with an answer, you just shake your head and look away from the tease. While the thought of him fucking you and you having to be quiet because others are around seems like quite the thrill, the mere thought of doing so in a public aeroplane has you wanting gag.

“What?” Alex fakes his hurt, nonchalantly following up with, “I know you can get horny just after you’ve woken up.”

Your head whips back to him, narrowing your eyes as you scold, “You’re being loud.”

He wasn’t. His voice was just above a whisper. But the mere fact you were on a plane with the possibility of anyone around you eavesdropping has you getting all embarrassed and flustered in an instant.

“Sorry,” Alex barely holds back his grin. “I’ll be subtle about it when I take you in the bathroom.”

Instead of scowling, you lean your head back on the seat, close your eyes, and take a deep breath so you don’t end up smacking him. Taking a few seconds to calm your anxiousness down and try not to let his joking get you too embarrassed when you know he isn’t trying to be malicious, you just stay like that silently.

But Alex disturbs your peace, “You don’t have to think about it so intently Y/N/N, we can just do it.”

“No.” You look at him again, and say even quietly to try and further your point, “Not to mention everyone would see.”

Alex can’t help but take that though as you just don’t want to right now. In such a public setting. That’s not you saying that you’d never be ready to join the mile high club.

“Oh okay, remind me to take you on a private jet.” Alex squeezes your thigh again, before winking, “They mind their business on those.”

You’re lost for words for a brief moment. Taking in exactly what that means, and you end up half frowning.

“Way to persuade me.” You scoff, “Telling me you’re already in the mile high club.”

Sarcasm is thick in your voice as you say, “Such a turn on.”

The singer can’t help but smirk though, “Don’t be jealous now, sweet.”

After that, Alex seems to give you a break from his endless torment. He takes his hand from your thigh as he reaches down to his bag by his feet and takes out the word search book he bought himself in WHSmiths at the airport. Finally you feel like you can relax and sleep for the remainder of the 2 hour flight.

Or you hoped so anyway, but it seems the vibrations of the plane's wall just wanted you conscious. So it was with a huff you leant back against the headrest once more.

“Just,” Alex sighs and he picks his hand up to cup the side of your face to gently push your head on his shoulder.

Instant comfort was an understatement compared to the wall and the seat. But you still felt weird about it.

You tell him with a sigh, “I don’t want to annoy you.”

“You don’t annoy me at all, Y/N/N.” He dismisses immediately, paying you no more attention after saying, “Go to sleep.”

And so you did. You got a good hour’s sleep and you think it was only when the plane started to make a steady descent that your body woke you up as a result of the decrease in altitude. But you woke up gently and slowly, and you realised you were still on Alex’s shoulder long before you opened your eyes.

You found yourself not wanting to move. The woody scent of his aftershave leaves you in a little trance all the time and you never want to bring yourself out of it. So you just blinked your eyes open slowly and told your body not to even twitch to give away that you were awake.

And Alex didn’t notice because you now see he’s entirely too engrossed in his book. Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre.

A true classic, you can’t help but tiredly smile as you see he’s about to get to one of your favourite bits of the book. You following pretty easily for a few pages because he’s holding the book open practically as far as it can go (you’re so tired you can find it in yourself to shudder at the fact the book will definitely have a cracked spine) in one hand, and you only noticed when he turned the pages that his other had gone back to gently resting on your thigh.

Everything is good for about 5 minutes, but then the singer started reading too fast for you at one of your favourite bits, so you end up having to say a quiet, “Go back,”

“What?” You feel Alex turn his head towards you a little, his jaw gently nudging your head but you don’t make a single effort to move.

“Hadn’t finished the page,” You tell him and Alex can’t help but smile as he turns the page back for you.

His only indication that you’re ready to move on is the slight nod of your head and Alex even angles the book towards your direction a little more so you can both read. He smiles at the way you haven’t attempted to move from his shoulder at all, seemingly quite comfy.

You both continue reading together for the next few pages until the same thing happens again where Alex turns the page too soon. This time you whine a little as you whisper, “Too fast.”

“Not had you complain about my speed before.” Alex can’t help but tease when the opportunity is right there for the taking, but all it earns him is a poke in his side which makes him jump and he just about peers down at you seeing you smiling victoriously.

After this you fall into a rhythm of you nodding slightly when you're ready for him to turn the page. It doesn’t bother Alex at all, no it's the opposite, he finds you endearing that you’re both enjoying his book and reading it at the same time.

The both of you become entirely engrossed in Jane Eyre’s world that you barely even acknowledge that the plane is just about ready to land. It’s only when the air hostess’ voice fills the plane as they announce over the tannoy that you’d be landing shortly, does Alex close the book.

At the same time you reluctantly pick your head up from his shoulder, Alex offers as he taps the book, “Can borrow it after me if you want?”

“I’ve already read it, I just love that part you’re on.” You hum, smiling at him in earnest, “Thank you though.”

And both of you know you’re not just saying thank you for that offer, but thank you for allowing you to fall asleep on him.

The transfer to the resort even had you in awe. But when you got to the hotel and you entered your room, you were blown away by your view.

The white mountains are stunning and you were so glad you brought your camera. This was something you definitely didn’t want to ever forget.

The air felt like ice on your skin as you took your pictures, the bitter cold making you want to jump into the private hot tub you have on your balcony.

You restrain yourself, saving that for later, you opt for a hot shower to settle you after that flight and you end up falling asleep in the warmest queen sized bed.

You all meet downstairs a few hours later where you get some food and decide that you’re going to all get ready to hit the slopes, you all opting for the red runs for today. They were so much fun and with you skiing, you just find yourself in awe of Flo on her snowboard flying past you all.

It’s a fun few hours, with you all stopping half way down the slope at one of the cafes on the mountain where you all have a hot coffee, and the lads follow it up with a beer. The lads head off before the rest of you, wanting to be speed demons and race down the rest of the way which you’re all fine with.

You know Flo will inevitably end up beating them down anyway. Which she of course did.

Before you set off though, you girls decide that after dinner you’re all going to have a little hot tub party. So that’s how you’re now sinking in the hot tub on your balcony, Katie already in after beating you to being the first.

You just laugh at her rushing in there to beat you, as you take off your hotel dressing gown to reveal your dark green bikini. Katie says she loves the colour of yours as you glance back around at her and tell her you adore her maroon one.

But it’s when you step into the tub that Katie gasps, loud enough for you to pause as you stand in the pool of bubbling water.

“What are they?” Katie points to your thighs with wide eyes.

Your bruised beyond belief thighs. Dark, almost purple bruises that litter the tops of your thighs which were left by the mouth of the singer next door.

“Y/N!” Katie yells, her jaw dropped as she looks at the assault on your skin, “What the fuck?”

“Katie, stop looking at me.” You get all flustered and embarrassed so you're about to sit down, but your best friend grabs your hips to stop you so she can look at the dark marks for longer.

“Oh my fucking god.” She shakes her head, too shocked by the sheer amount of them. “It’s hard not to when you have those on your thighs Y/N!”

“Please stop, can we just pretend you didn’t see them.” You pry yourself out of her grip and finally immerse yourself into the hot water, loving the chill dissipating from your body.

“No, I want the gossip.” Katie grabs her glass of prosecco you’d poured her and left on the side of the tub along with yours and the other girls that were meant to be coming shortly. “How’s it been going between you two?”

“Fine.” You nod with a coy smile as you reach for your glass.

Your best friend shakes her head, “I’m not settling with fine.”

“It’s good.” You take a long sip of your drink, knowing you’ll need it if you’re having this conversation, “I guess he keeps me on my toes.”

“In what way?” She prys.

You think about how to word your feelings for a second. The sound of the jets humming in the cold air fills the brief silence until you end on, “I’m still not used to having a booty call or being one. I still get a text off him and it throws me... He still makes me nervous.”

“That’s good though.” Katie hums and nods, “He’d be boring if he didn’t make you nervous.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You nod in agreement.

But your best friend enquires, “He’s not making you nervous in general now, right? Just when he comes on to you?”

“No, it's a lot better.” You explain honestly, sinking into the water a little more. “But I’m still not at ease if that makes any sense. I still find him difficult to read.”

“That just comes with time.” Katie nods, understanding you entirely, “When you start spending more time with him, you’ll figure it out.”

“Well that doesn’t really happen,” You mumble a little but seeing as she heard you and noting that sparkle in her eye for the gossip, you explain, “He sort of just shows up and we fuck and then he leaves.”

Katie frowns a little at that though, “Thought he took you out?”

“That was just until I felt more comfortable around him. We’ve not carried that on.” You almost cringe when you say, “We’re just shagging now.”

“And how’s that going?” Your best friend smirks, “The bruises seem like a good sign.”

You sigh, “Yeahhh.” taking another sip of your drink.

“What was that sigh for?” She calls you out.

You try to pass it off immediately, “Nothing.”

But she’s not having any of it, “S’not nothing, come on.”

“He was just a tease on the plane but he’s doing it on purpose.” Your cheeks heat up a bit as you tell her.

“Getting you ready for later.” She grins and gives you some teasing suggestive eyes herself.

You gently shake your head, “I don’t think so.”

“Oh?” Katie raises her eyebrows, “What does that mean?”

Oh fuck.

“Don’t make me explain Katie.” You pout.

She pushes you, “Come onnnn.”

You just sigh in defeat and say, “We’re not doing that right now.”

“Excuse me?” Your best friend is now even more confused.

“You heard me Kate.” You sigh, closing your eyes not wanting to explain yet another of your stupid thoughts to her.

For clarity’s sake she has to ask, “Weren’t you with him twice last week?”

“We shagged on Boxing Day and then the 28th and New Years.” You tell her.

And it occurs to you that you’ve probably not been this active on a regular basis since you were in your late teens. Either you or Alex clearly has the sex drive of a teenager and with the state of your thighs, you think it’s more likely Alex.

Glancing at the bruises again you can almost feel the ghost of his mouth there. You fall into the daze of remembering the way his lips attacked the tops of your thighs as he fingered you to edge you, not letting you finish until you were begging to have his tongue instead.

He toyed with you, saying his mouth was already on you, sucking your thighs that bit more before biting them making you whine. But you were desperate to have him eat you out. Have his tongue tease and flick your clit in the way he knows makes you lose your mind.

And he wouldn’t give in. Not until you were on the edge for the third time, right on the verge of getting bratty with him and making the right decision he compensated by eating you out until you came twice on his tongue. And the way he fucked you afterwards, god, you wish-

“And he’s not touched you since?” Katie’s question shocks you back to reality.

You blink a few times, and shake your head, “No.”

She smirks, almost trying to hide it behind her glass, “I bet you’re losing your mind.”

“I feel like it.” You hum, nodding.

Katie asks, fully ready to big you up to go and knock on his door after your girls prosecco party, “Don’t you want him to touch you?”

“I want nothing more at the minute.” You tell her honestly, “But we’re not doing it until after the holiday.”

She frowns, completely confused, “Why?”

Surely on holiday is on of the best places to fuck? Why wouldn’t you be doing that? Katie can’t help but think.

“Because he knew I felt uncomfortable about him paying for me to come and I was worried he’d expect something from me.”

“Y/N.” Her face falls and then she gently scorns you, “He’s not like that.”

“I know he isn’t Katie. But you know how my mind works. It worries me.” You shrug, not really being able to help it.

“Well I thi-“ Katie starts but is interrupted by Florence appearing at the door of your balcony.

“Hey,” You grin, very thankful for the conversation being cut short.

Hopefully never to be brought up again.

“Flo,” Katie smiles and waves her over, “Come in.”

The gorgeous woman walks out and hangs her dressing gown up before running to the tub to escape the chilly air. After commenting on how much both you and Katie like her black, glittery bikini, the artist asks you both, “What were we talking about?”

You try to think of something quickly to change the subject entirely but your best friend gets in there first and grins, “Just how Y/N/N is sleeping with Alex now and she’s seeing if she can go the holiday without.”

You might drown yourself in this hot tub. Can you get any more embarrassed today?

Flo’s smile is huge as her head whips around to you in shock. You can tell she’s happy for you, presumably for Alex too, but she shocks you when she tells you, “Don’t deny yourself the pleasure.”

You’re so beyond confused by that statement until Katie’s eyes go wide as she gasps, “Fuck, I always forget about you two.”

You blink a few times as you hear her tell Katie that it’s understandable she’d forget because it was before her and Jamie got together. But you’re still in shock, you have to get the clarification, “You and Alex?”

You hope it doesn't sound like you’re annoyed because you’re not, no one even Alex has to tell you anything about this and clearly Flo just found out about yours and her ex’s rendezvous. You’re just confused, clearly Katie forgot but you’ve not even heard any jokes about it or any mention of it before now.

“Yeah, a long time ago.” Flo nods and is quick to explain as she grabs her glass of prosecco. “Lost our virginities to each other back in college, but started seeing him years later.”

She continues to explain with a roll of her eyes, “But the idiot was seeing me at the same time as Alexa back on their Favourite Worst Nightmare tour so I held my tongue for about a week until I blew up and called him out in front of all the lads…” She adds quickly, “It got ugly.”

It makes your chest go tight. He did that to one of his best friends years ago, and he did to his girlfriend of three years last year.

You're sincere when you say, “I’m so sorry.”

You feel almost embarrassed to be sleeping with him now. Especially when you’d consider Flo a friend of yours, even before this trip, when you spoke to her about her artwork that she creates at various parties you’ve both attended. She’d always been lovely to you and made you feel entirely at ease.

And now you’re sleeping with her ex. You need the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“Don’t be, it worked out well in the end.” It seems that the artist can’t keep the smile off her face as she finishes her story, “I went to Manchester and Matty and my cousin, Adam, got me through it. And when the time was right and I was healed, Matty asked me out and now we’ve been together for a decade.” Her grin is huge as she proudly tells you, “Married for three and a half years.”

It’s impossible to not be happy for her, her love for her husband shining through so brightly. But you can’t help but ask her, “Why are you still friends with him? Alex, I mean.”

You can’t imagine anyone betraying your trust that much and being close friends with them years later.

“Oh, it took a long while and a lot of grovelling on his part. But after two years of barely speaking to him, and with how happy I was with Matty, I forgave Al and now we get on like nothing ever happened.” Flo explains, “I see the other lads too often to let it continue for a lifetime of awkwardness.”

She’s a better person than you. You could never.

You think out loud. “The lads didn’t know he was two timing you?”

“No,” She shakes her head, taking a sip of her drink before saying, “They were as shocked as me when Alexa showed up. Only Miles knew, and covered for him.”

You shake your head, seeing Miles in a completely different light now. But you guess if you’re judging Alex by how he’s only been with you, you have to do the same with Miles.

“You’re too good. I would never forgive either of them for that.” Katie gives her two cents on the situation.

“I’ve been told that a lot. By Alex himself too... But despite last year's shit show, he has changed.” Flo assures you, but then smirks, “So enjoy him, queen.”

You sink into the water a bit more, entirely awkward about the way both women are smirking at you.

“Don’t be embarrassed. He’s good.” Flo giggles, “God only knows that if I didn’t call him out to everyone I would have a hard time choosing between him and Matty.”

You’re glad she’s such a lovely person and she eases you entirely.

“Good job you’re married then.” You joke, which makes Katie also spit out her drink laughing and Flo giggles before clinking her prosecco glass with yours.

“You should see her thighs.” Your best friend laughs.

You shoot her the dirtiest look, “Katie!”

~*~*~*~

Thankfully by the time Kristen arrived the subject of you and Alex had long since been dropped.

Flo saw your thighs and she told you about how she thinks the man will never truly grow up because he left lots of love bites on her boobs when they lost their virginities, and mercifully after that, the subject moved away and the four of you are now just chilling and listening to your a playlist that’s blaring through your phone.

You were all giggling at nothing in particular when you got startled by two men at the balcony door. Alex and Jamie come outside in their trunks and Jamie is the one to scoff, “You all thought you could have a party without us.”

Jamie practically jumps in and sits himself down between Flo and Katie, but your attention is drawn to Alex who sinks in beside you and you half find yourself wanting to scurry over to Katie.

He looks too good. Last time you’d seen him shirtless you were drunk and your memory hazy, but he looks so fucking good and his toned abdomen and his trunks low enough for you to clearly see that V line down to- Stop.

Stop.

Thankfully Alex doesn’t seem to notice the way you get a little bit more tense with him beside you. Instead he immediately asks Flo, “How’s Matty, angel?”

“Yeah he’s good, thanks Shakespeare.” Flo smiles, and despite not understanding her nickname for him, you happily listen in to distract yourself.

Maybe it’s to do with the Macbeth reference in If You Were There, Beware? You can’t help but wonder. Maybe you’ll ask her later.

The singer can’t help but ask curiously, “Why didn’t he join us again?”

“Tour rehearsals.” The artist informs him, “His UK tour starts on the ninth.”

“Fair enough,” Alex nods, clearly completely understanding the situation Flo’s husband finds himself in. “I’m glad we aren’t back on the road till late Feb now.”

“Bet you are.” Flo smiles at him but when he tunes into Jamie’s conversation, her eyes flick to you and she smirks.

You sink even further into the water.

Despite Alex now being beside you, you try not to let your nervous energy take over. No, instead you carry on as normal and have some of the funniest conversations with the people around you. You’re only thrown off when you realise that an old Arctic Monkeys song comes on through your phone and your eyes go wide when Jamie sighs, “I haven’t heard this song in so long.”

Immediately, you tense hearing the guitar and drums at the start of Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts. Fuck, this is why you don’t normally have your music on around Katie, so you don’t have this awkward interaction.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise it was in this playlist.” You say, immediately turning to reach for your phone.

Liar. You feel Alex’s eyes screaming at you, as he looks amused at the fact you like his music, as if he already didn’t know.

“Keep it on.” Jamie tells you, and you hesitate for a split second feeling Alex’s eyes on you until his friend continues to say, “Complete nostalgia of playing it at yours Al.”

“Yeah, it’s a gooden.” Alex smiles.

“Who was this one even about Al?” Flo asks, entirely amused, thankfully stealing the singer's attention away from you so he doesn’t see you starting to fidget, really not wanting the song to stay on.

Your knee is twitching, your foot tapping on the floor of the jacuzzi like you can’t sit still at all. Thankfully the water and the bubbles will be enough to stop you from being noticed though.

“Just that girl I fancied back in Year 11.” Alex explains, “She was in your English lessons, I think she was called-“

If you were to tell the story again, you wouldn’t have been able to name the girl at all. Just that Alex really liked her in school and never got the courage to ask her out and then some guy who was in the year above them in school ended up going out with her.

The conversation moved on and easily past that and your awkwardness about the man you’re sleeping with catching you having his song on your playlist eases off. But then, about 10 minutes later, it happens again.

“Fuck my life,” You whisper immediately reaching to grab your phone this time.

Because this is so much worse.

It’s not just that Piledriver Waltz has started to play. It’s even more embarrassing that it's the Submarine soundtrack version of the song, it’s just Alex. Not even Arctic Monkeys.

“Didn’t know you enjoyed my music this much, sweet.” Alex can’t help but once again tease you. Finding your reactions too entertaining not to.

The panic in your eyes when the first Monkey's song came on, but the way you swore under your breath at this one just made him want to burst out laughing. You look absolutely mortified, and clearly not wanting to get any extra teasing from himself or your friends which you were likely expecting.

But Alex isn’t one to disappoint. So of course he teased you.

You can’t help but narrow your eyes at him, “In the nicest possible way, fuck off.” Before you quickly look for a playlist that is safe and doesn’t have any of his songs on there.

“It’s all good Y/N.” Alex smirks, “It’s good to know I’m doing something right.”

His hand comes to rest on your thigh to stop your leg from tapping. You swallow, stopping your movements and taking a deep breath to not let it get to you that the others could see his hand on your thigh. Although you’d rather them see his hand there than the bruises he’s left.

Thankfully the bubbles disguise it from everyone else and no one comments, but just as you ask, “What album do you want to listen to?” Miles and Nick turn up at your door with more alcohol in their hands and everyone beckons them in.

Which is an issue for you because the hot tub is probably only meant to have 4 people in it at the most and now there’s 8 of you. So you’re unsure why it’s you and Kirsten that have drawn the short straws, but you’ve both been pulled into the laps of who you’re sleeping with. But one second you were seated closely beside Alex, and now you’re sitting on his lap, your arm having to go over his shoulder so you don't slip off as you lean into him a little.

Kirsten and Nick, you understand, they are married. Flo not sitting in Miles’ lap, you again understand because they aren’t together. What you don’t understand is why Katie isn’t on her husband's lap when they are married and have a child. But you, who has been sleeping with this man for less than a month, has been pulled onto his lap to make more room for everyone.

All of a sudden you feel like you’re holding your breath and can’t relax. After being submerged in the warm water for so long, most of your top half being exposed to the crisp air makes you chilly and your thighs feel far too close to the surface of the water so you feel your hands in your lap to try and disguise the bruises.

Thankfully one of Alex’s arms comes to rest across your thighs too and he holds your thighs again. And you can’t help slipping back into that little daydream of yours.

Of the way he pried your thighs open, as if you weren’t already willing and dripping for him. As if you weren’t begging him to eat you out anyway. And when he finally gave into your demands his fingers only dug into your skin more, holding you open entirely at his mercy.

And when he worked you up and up until he had your back arching and his name caught in your throat as you pulled harshly on his hair. He kept going, eating up everything you had to give him until you were writhing beneath him entirely overstimulated.

After he blissfully tortured you like that, he kissed his way up your body until you could taste yourself on his tongue. And that only lead to him fucking you till you could barely move. His cock made you see stars when he hooked his arms under your legs and moved them closer to your chest.

The pleasure he drove into you over and over was blinding, you saw white when you came. The only thing you can remember is the way Alex groaned into your ear when you clenched around him and the way he moaned when you tugged on his sweaty hair. And the way he bit your shoulder when he got his release not a minute later.

Not to mention the way he flipped you over when you both caught your breaths and he fu-

“I can feel you.” Alex's whisper startles you out of your memory and your eyes snap to the man you were daydreaming about.

You all but jump off his lap, your heart racing ten to the dozen feeling like you’ve been caught red handed. But you keep calm, not letting your cheeks heat up to give you away.

“Feel what?” You ask him, the shock slowly disappearing from your face.

“Your pulse,” Alex tells you in a low voice, his grip on you tightening, “On my thigh.”

And it dawns on you what he means. You’re fucking throbbing, completely aching at the thought of him. And he can fucking feel you.

Fuck offfffffff. Men can actually feel that?!

No. No. No.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You play dumb, having to because you don’t think you’ll be able to look at him again if not.

Not that you can right now, you just look at Flo and start listening to her, Miles, and Kirsten’s conversation. Meanwhile praying to every god that there is that you calm the fuck down and you stop being horny immediately.

“Course you don’t, sweet.” Alex kisses your shoulder and his lips linger on your skin as he smirks, “Just like you can’t feel me.”

You’re about to ask him what he means until he shifts you against him more and you can feel his erection pressed against your thigh. He’s hard. Really hard. You have to hold in the sound you want to make.

Why the fuck did you want this ‘no fucking’ shit. You can’t stop thinking about him. The way you want to kiss him. The way you want him in your mouth. The way you want him to fill you up and fuck you like it’s the last time you’re ever going to be able to.

You don’t even realise what you’re doing until Alex grunts in your ear, “I’d stop wriggling unless you want me to fuck you in front of these lot.”

Your thighs press against each other and you pray Alex didn’t feel that too. Despite him definitely noticing, Alex didn’t say anything, didn’t tease you any more and you just about managed to have a conversation with Flo about how she’s joining her husband on his tour and how she’s going to stay in Sheffield for a while after to see her best friend.

But it’s not long after that, the alcohol runs dry and everyone notices the time. Nick and Kirsten are the first to leave, followed by Katie and Jamie, and when you don’t move from Alex’s lap (because he won’t let you, his hands clutching you tightly after you tried to move when the first couple left. Clearly doesn’t think the bubbles will hide his hard on) Flo and Miles are the last to get out.

Miles gives you both a cheeky smile and he helps the artist out of the tub and hands her the dressing gown. Both of them say bye to you and Alex but Florence gives you a teasing look as she leaves, seeming to scream at the both of you, have funnn.

Your jaw locks and you very subtly shake your head at her, trying your absolute best to keep the smile off your face and show your strength. And you’d say you do well, you shout an unbothered bye to the direction they went and only when you hear your bedroom door thud shut does Alex’s hold on you go slack.

And finally you release the breath you were holding and grab the side of the tub to stand up, needing off this man's lap before you do something you’ll regret. Abandoning your empty prosecco glass you just get yourself stood up when the singer stops you.

“Where are you going?” Alex gently grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him, the water sloshing as you fall back towards him.

“Alex,” You sigh as he moves you so you’re straddling him, but before you can even protest his mouth finds yours.

His kiss takes your breath away, and he doesn’t give you time to think. He just wants you to feel.

Alex attacks you with long kisses, three of them that have you forgetting that you were even trying to get away. It’s as if something ignites in you both, the mere connection of your lips has your skin erupting in goosebumps, and they aren’t from the contrast with the hot water and the cold air.

But you seem to get some perspective and much to Alex’s disappointment, you pull back from the kiss. But he doesn’t let you go far at all, his hand on the back of your neck keeps you close enough your foreheads are resting against each others.

“It’s just a kiss.” Whispers the man who’s got your heart racing, his hand pulling your neck that bit closer hoping you’ll kiss him again.

“It’s never just a kiss with you,” You breathlessly reply, gently shaking your head, your nose rubbing against his.

When he pulls you back for another kiss you can’t deny yourself the simple pleasure. Because it is never just a kiss.

And it isn’t, because you’re not sure what this one is laced with, but you’re addicted. You don’t want to stop for a single second, especially not when he grabs your hips with both hands and pulls you against him properly.

Your back arches, your chest against his now and he can feel your peaked nipples through your bikini top. He can’t help but groan, he’s been wanting to feel them against him in some capacity since he saw them through your bikini top when he lifted you onto his lap and you got cold and his head filled with filth about you.

About how he wanted to pinch them between his fingers so you’d make that noise he loves. About how he couldn’t stop thinking about his head being back between your thighs when he spotted the bruises he’d left there. About how he wanted nothing more than to tease you in front of his friends, to see how far he could push you out of your comfort zone. And after he could feel you throbbing on his thigh he wanted nothing more than to make you cum over and over again.

This kiss turns hard and hungry and it takes you enough by surprise that if you were standing you’d have stumbled back with the force of it. As you’re on his lap though, you can’t escape and you don’t for a second want to. Alex’s hands move your hips so you start grinding on him and both of you moan at the friction.

You hope that the rumble of the jets hides them from anyone other than the two of you, and you pray to every god that Katie and Jamie haven’t decided to go into their hot tub as they are the room beside yours. Despite the wooden panelling hiding the balconies completely from potential neighbours, you need to keep quiet. But it’s so difficult when he’s making you feel so good.

The more you grind against him, the more you can feel your stomach tighten with need. The way Alex is dragging you against his cock just makes you worse, your clit finally getting the friction it’s been aching for.

Minutes pass of your whining, gasping, and mewling as he encourages you, taking handfuls of your arse to pull you towards him as he bucks his hips up into yours. His moans motivate you more, your hips now erratic in search for relief as he kisses you.

Alex licks into your mouth like he can’t get enough of the way you taste. His groans spur you on, and his hand moving up to the middle of your waist has you arching into his chest again, and he can’t help but move his hips in time with yours, loving the little whines that escape your pretty lips.

But he needs to hear more, so when you tug on his hair, and he bucks up into you, he bites your bottom lip when you moan so he can muffle it with his own lips. He smirks when he pulls away and he grabs your face, his thumb and index finger pressing your cheeks together as he grinds you against him again, his fingers digging into your hip ensuring it.

The moan you let out for him then, you can’t suppress, and by the way Alex’s eyes seem to sparkle with delight shows you just how satisfied the sound makes him. Like it was intent all along to have you be loud for him.

“Do I feel good, sweet?” His voice a low whisper that has your throat bobbing.

The singer kisses his way up your jaw before biting your earlobe, and he clearly wants an answer, “Well?” His hand falling from your cheeks to your neck and the slightest pressure has your head in pieces.

“Mmm.” You hum in agreement pulling back enough to grab his jaw and bring his lips back up to yours.

You refuse to let him mark your neck up again, no matter how good his lips feel on your throat. And at this point you know he’d do it just to get the both of you caught to see if you could withstand your friends teasing.

This between you carries on for longer than it should. But that pull, that spark, between you, now ignited neither of you can get enough.

“You like knowing you get me this hard, just from seeing the bruises I left on your thighs?” Alex rasps, as he kisses slowly down your neck.

At this point, you think you’d do just about anything to have his lips on you or on your skin somehow. It’s addicting. So much so that you don’t remember the silly rule that you agreed upon, especially when Alex moves his hand

“From seeing these,” Alex hums against your neck as his thumbs circling both your nipples through your bikini. “I can still feel them on my chest from the other night.”

His lips trail down your neck and the top of your chest and he kisses over your skin and his hands grab at you that bit tighter as he says, “I want my mouth all over you, sweet.”

His thumbs hook into your bikini top and he pulls both cups to the side, leaving you bare for him. His lips are on your breast in a second and the other he kneads in his calloused hand.

Your head falls back, a moan falling freely from your lips as you grind yourself onto his cock as he sucks your nipple. Needing as much friction as you can get because you could easily finish like this if he carried on. But god, you want him inside you instead.

Picking your head up, your fingers tug in his hair encouraging him as his right hand now grabs your arse again making you move on him. Fuck, you could cum just from this, easily if he carries on.

He swaps to your other tit, lapping at it and savouring the sweetness of your skin and he can’t help but moan when you rut against him again. God, he just wants to have you like this forever, just free of inhibitions and completely giving into your desire.

“Well, sweet? You like knowing what you do to me?” He teases, but he takes it a step further and he reaches between you and he presses circles onto your clit through your clothes, “That I like feeling this greedy thing throbbing on my lap for me?”

The sound you let out is guttural and completely obscene. To mute it you harshly pull his hair so you can press your lips against his to quieten yourself. But fuck knows if he even helps.

His sweet torture continues and you feel the tension forming in your lower stomach, flames scorching your limbs, all caused by the man who’s name falls from your lips in desparate pleas, “Alex.”

His kiss is hot and heavy like a man starved, like he could never get enough of you. His hands claiming you is something promise you’ll never deny yourself the pleasure of again, those magic fucking fingers have you seeing stars. Each swipe of them against your clothed clit pushes you closer towards that delightful edge.

“I- Al, oh.” Fuck. You’re going to finish, this is it and it’s going to shatter you entirely.

His warm hands on you, the feeling of his chest rising and falling against your own, his body heat making your nipples perk from the stimulation. And his fucking cock that you’re aching to have inside you, he’s so hard all you can think about is reaching down and moving your costume to the side so you can line him up and fill you to the br-

So consumed with your thoughts and your erratic hips chasing the orgasm you're on the verge of having you miss the singer mumble against your lips, “Okay, that’s enough.”

You only register when Alex’s hand now holds your hip to stop you from moving and you hear him say, “Stop, sweet.”

“No,” You helplessly whine, entirely cockdrunk at this point, wanting him too badly and you kiss him deeply again.

But Alex only entertains the kiss for another second, before he pulls away and to stop your lips from following his again, he holds your jaw, “If you keep kissing me, we’re not going to make it another minute.”

You’re so breathless you barely understand what he means. But as you take a minute to get some oxygen back into your system you realise what you’ve done and god you want to lock yourself up and throw away the key.

“I’m sorry.” You swallow, looking away from his gaze.

“Don’t apologise.” Alex shakes his head, and you note he’s just as out of breath as you. And he gently readjusts your bikini so it’s covering your modesty again as he says, “We agreed on your rule, sweet, don’t wanna break it on day one now, do we?”

It’s his smirk that he gives you as he says the end of that which makes you say, “You’re a bully.”

Because he’s got you all hot and bothered, only to completely edge you and use ‘your rule’ as an excuse to leave you right on the brink. God you could absolutely throttle him. But knowing Alex, he’d enjoy it, so you keep your hands to yourself.

The singer just laughs, “You love it.” And he taps your arse under the water to prompt you to stand up so he can too.

Jesus Christ it’s only now that you realise how perishing the cold is, you practically jump out of the tub and run for your dressing gown before heading to the door. And you’re kind enough to hold the door open for Alex as he wraps his towel around his shoulders.

It’s only now that you gulp seeing just how little the swim shorts disguise his erection. Standing at attention is an understatement, and there’s a little spark of pride that scorches your blood knowing you’ve caused that.

You don’t let your eyes linger, but you know from the smug smirk on his face as he walks through the door that he’s caught you looking. And the prick opens his mouth, probably to bully you once more but you beat him to it as you close and lock the balcony door.

“You don’t care about the rule, why’d you stop when I was clearly enjoying myself?” You ask as you follow him to the door to your room.

“Because you were dead set about not wanting to before we came.” Alex tells you sincerely, and you can’t help your heart from warming that little bit as he looks you in the eye and says, “I don’t want you regretting anything between us.”

Swallowing down the smile you want to plaster all over your face, you tell him, “I don’t regret what just happened, for the record.”

“Good.” Alex smiles, walking the last few steps to your door. And the singer is about to open it before he pauses, turns back and tells you, “Oh, and don’t get yourself off.”

Immediately you frown a little. It’s a miracle your words don’t come out as a scoff, “Don’t think you have that authority.”

The smirk that comes to those pretty swollen lips and the way his eyes darken is something that needs capturing in a museum. Fucking hell it’s definitely banked away in a certain area of your mind.

“I could just fuck you now if you’re going to do that.” Alex raises his eyebrows, and you can tell he’so putting the offer out there.

But after him saying it’s only day one, you’re definitely not giving in now. A week without fucking him. You can do it. You just can’t fucking slip up again. How embarrassing of you to have given in to your temptations only mere hours after your holiday began.

Alex seems to understand your thoughts entirely so he quickly saves himself from a scolding, “Think of it as being edged instead, don’t touch yourself. It’ll make next week more fun.”

Your still fucking throbbing for him, aching isn’t even the right word for the need for relief you’re feeling. It looks like your bullet won’t be being used while you’re away after all. But if you’re showing restraint, you certainly won’t be the only one.

You nod, the corner of your lips tugging up a little seeing Alex smile down at you and as he reaches from the door handle to let himself out, you surprise him by saying, “Don’t touch yourself either then.”

He looks at you again, his eyes entirely full of surprise that you’ve given him an order. But he’ll do it for you. He won’t be a double standard, so he agrees.

Although when he opens the door and takes a step out, and you tell him, “Go get a cold shower.” He loves your brattiness.

“Could share one of those?” Alex offers as he takes a step back towards you, his eyes bright and full of mischief as he smirks down at you.

All you can think is, And end up having a repeat of the first time you were in the shower with him? No chance.

“See you tomorrow, Alex.” You smile, placing a hand on his bare chest and pushing him towards the door perpendicular to yours.

Alex chuckles, blowing you a teasing kiss, “Goodnight, sweet.”

~*~*~*~ January 4th 2019 ~*~*~*~

To say that the next couple of days were positively torturous would be a massive understatement. The cold shower you had after Alex left your room that first night didn’t do much to calm you down, the ache between your thighs didn’t disappear until well into the night of you tossing and turning in bed.

At one point you were ready to march into his room and tell him how unfair it is to leave you on edge like that, and that it was unfair because you’d be so pent up that you’d have a miserable holiday. But then you’d realise you’d see the singer's smug smirk and he’d say something along the lines of, ‘You’re so greedy that you come begging me to get you off, is that it? You can’t go even a few hours without me, can you not? You poor sweet thing.’

So you chose to stay warm in bed, following his direction of not getting yourself off and you eventually fall asleep. You swear though that if he got himself off and didn’t stick through this with you, you’d be absolutely fuming.

And you can’t help but be pleased when Alex eventually joins you all for breakfast the next morning, and he made a thunderstorm look appealing. ‘In a mood’ would be an understatement. The singer looked like he hadn’t slept a wink, he hadn't even bothered with his hair, it was still dishevelled, and his glum, tired face had a smile tugging on your lips.

Good. You like knowing you’re not the only one who felt absolutely tortured.

You had to hide your smirk by taking a drink of your orange juice, sipping it through the straw as your eyes linger on the singer who looks like he could commit a murder if his breakfast was served wrong. Clearly though, you’re not being as slick as you thought you were hiding your amusement by taking a drink because when Alex’s eyes lock with yours he sees the knowing in them.

Instead of shying away from him though, you stare straight into his eyes and let your smirk show when you pull your drink out. You even raise your eyebrows at him entirely enthralled that he looks so much worse than you this morning. Looks like it’ll be cold showers for him for the foreseeable future.

Alex couldn’t help but find you equally as amusing that morning at breakfast. The smile stayed on your face for the entirety of your meal and he could tell that seeing him so affected by the lack of your company had somehow boosted your confidence. So, pent up he may be, but he’d suffer in silence for as long as he needed to see that smug look on your face once more.

Alex made sure his teasing continued throughout that day and the next. His flirting and lingering looks had you more on edge than usual thanks to the fact you felt entirely touch-starved, but you couldn’t deny that he had your heart racing.

On the slopes he would sometimes wait for you if he wasn’t racing the boys or Flo down the mountain, to make sure you got down alright and there would be flirting when you’d stopped at the cafe’s that were half way down the slope. And he had you buy him the promised drinks that made you come on this holiday in the first place so you were happy keeping your end of that bargain.

He really made you smile today when you had a bit of a fall on the slope. He watched you fall but he stopped right beside you and made sure you were okay before getting you back to your feet and he went down the slope as by your side as he could get. And when you both reached the bottom, he played into checking you over, being cheeky and saying he’d have to get the layers off you to make a complete and thorough check. Something which of course you rolled your eyes at but you couldn’t keep the smile from your face.

When you walked out of your room each night dressed to go for dinner he told you how gorgeous you looked in your dress when he saw you, whether that be him stepping out of his room at the same time coincidentally or when you walked down with Katie and he was waiting for you with the other lads. Tonight was the latter and the way he looked you up and down made you feel all tingly inside.

And this evening at dinner he sat beside you and when you were waiting between courses, Alex rested his hand on your thigh, and it wasn’t at all to try and rile you, he seemed to just want to be affectionate. And Flo is right, why would you deny yourself that pleasure.

You know you’re nowhere near a relationship, or possibly even heading into that direction. But this fun you’re having with him, it doesn’t mean you can’t take comfort from the small meaningful gestures that you’ve found that you’ve missed since your last relationship.

So yes, you’ve adored the flirting, and matched his energy entirely by giving him back as much as good as you’ve got which grants you access to that cheeky smirk you’re starting to love being the cause of. You pretend like your heart doesn’t do something stupid when he’s affectionate and you’ll continue to act like you aren’t dying for him to touch you and kiss you and fuck you until you’re back home.

And all of this is the reason why right now, you’re absolutely seething at yourself. Why you’re now at this bar, side-eyeing the man who’s had you at whit's end for the past few days wanting god to do you a favour and stop what you’re seeing.

You hate it, you absolutely hate it. Seeing Alex’s hand on her hip, the way he smiles at her as she’s talking, and the way he’s making this random girl laugh.

It’s been at least 15 minutes now since he went up to the bar to get himself another drink and left your group at the few standing tables in the corner which you’d all claimed. And when you looked over after 5 minutes of him disappearing, you saw him at the bar talking away with possibly the most gorgeous woman you’d ever seen.

Intimidated isn’t even the word you could use to compare yourself to the stunning woman. She’s just everything you’re not. Clearly she's confident to speak to a stranger normally and not at 100 miles per hour because she’s nervous. She’s absolutely gorgeous with the complete opposite hair colour and style to yours, and her dress accentuates all of her features perfectly, leaving little to everyone’s imagination but she’s so gorgeous and fearlessly self assured, there’s no way you could possibly compete with a woman like her.

Your chest sinks because it’s so easy for you to realise just how jealous of this woman you are. Not just because she holds Alex’s attention and you want that back for yourself, you’re just hit with that intimidatingly jealous feeling you’ve not experienced for such a long time. And it’s such a dirty feeling, you really judge yourself for it.

Because you’re well aware you’re not in a relationship with the singer. Yes you’re fucking each other but he could easily call that off at any point, especially on holiday when you’ve established you’re not sleeping with each other and that will make your self esteem plummet and not to be dramatic but you’ll more than likely never put yourself out there again, and you think that is valid enough if that’s how this night ended.

To make it worse, the ladies you’re with, your close friends can clearly see that you’re slipping into a foul mood. A few times you’ve been asked what’s wrong, and you’d have to tune back into conversations and plaster a fake smile on your face because you’ve got so stupidly in your head about all of this.

It was only when Katie followed your gaze to the bar did she realise what was making you slip into a bad mood. On the down low, when Kirsten and Flo were having their own conversation, Katie said, “Y/N/N?”

“Hmm?” You hum, tearing your eyes away from a laughing Alex and the stunning woman.

You look at your best friend as she seriously asks, “What are you waiting for?”

Immediately, you’re confused, “What?”

Katie can’t help but laugh to herself a little as you’re being so blatantly obvious to her. And she can’t lie, she secretly loves seeing you jealous, because she’s never witnessed it before. And the mere fact you’re being silently possessive over Alex is all the more amusing to her.

“Just go and get him.” She encourages you, seeing that you’re holding your glass of wine that little bit too tight.

She understands that you’re probably that bit more jealous too because you are bordering on being a little bit drunk. Your tolerance is slightly better than hers and she knows that you’ve drank near enough the same amount so she’s very aware how your thoughts are probably being manipulated by the alcohol.

“No, if he wants to play he can,” You tell her and put on a brave face, turning away from him now in an attempt to not shoot daggers at him with your eyes, “He just won’t be getting me again afterwards.”

And you mean it. You won’t get caught up in that STD mess waiting to happen. Condoms or not. It’s a no from you.

You drink with the girls a bit more then, the other lads make you laugh too but after a few minutes you become all too aware again that there’s a missing piece. And it’s like a wound to the chest when you see he’s still there talking to that woman and they seem to be standing that little bit closer, smiles still on both of their faces.

Something about it hurts, and not due to the fact he’s being flirted with. It mostly gets to you because he’s being so kind to someone he’s just met and you only got that side of him after a ten years and only when you called him out for his behaviour. It makes your heart sink a little, you just don’t know why he wasn’t ever this friendly toward you when you were first introduced, yet he can be so kind, smiley, and flirty to a complete stranger.

Up until 6 months ago, Alex would barely hold a conversation with you and something about that always hurt. The effort you’d make only for it to go unreciprocated when he probably knew how much it took for you to not be socially awkward around him. It’s a blow to your chest and to your ego.

And to make it worst, he’s flirting with this girl as if you haven’t been fucking each other for a month and he didn’t almost fuck you in the hot tub the other night. As if the bruises he left on your thighs aren’t still very prominent and he didn’t edge you, leaving you craving every little bit of him for the last two days. And now he’s flirting with someone that isn’t you.

And you can’t even blame the woman for flirting with him. He looks impeccable this evening. He’s in a black suit with a black shirt and he looks incredible. Like you’d do just about anything for him to pull you aside in this darkened bar and for him to whisper filthy promises in your ear before his lips find yours and he takes your breath away all over again.

But you’re not so lucky. And your mood worsens when you see the bartender come back with two drinks in his hands and he places them in front of the pair. But it’s when Alex gets his card out and seemingly pays for both does your heart drop.

Has he just fucking bought her a drink?

You blink a few times and force yourself to look away. The feeling that’s settled in your stomach not being one that you want to ever be feeling. Jealousy is such an ugly emotion and you wish it wasn’t running through your veins right now so you try and breath through it, letting the thoughts pass you by as quickly as they come.

The people that know you best though, can see you’ve sort of checked out from the conversations surrounding you, and you’re staring out of the window at the snow that’s beginning to gently fall. Your best friend knows it’s not the same zoned out as you were awestruck when you first arrived on this holiday though, it’s due to you being in your head because of the man at the bar.

And it seems Katie isn’t the only one, because Flo asks Mrs Cook quietly, “Should I go tell him?”

Katie notes that she nods over towards the bar, but your best friend immediately shakes her head.

“No,” She tells her, “Let him dig his own grave.”

Because after everything last year, she wants Alex to prove himself worthy of having her best friend. She knows you deserve something good, and despite being 99% sure that Alex is just being polite to a fan at the bar, she wants him to prove that he wouldn’t ruin this good thing that you both have going for the sake of another woman who could pass as a model.

So Katie distracts you, getting another glass of wine down you is easy to do and she has you giggling with her and Flo again.

While you adore your friends for their distraction tactics, Alex and the stunning woman linger in your mind, and you feel like you need a second to quieten those intrusive thoughts. So you head to the toilet in hopes to clear your head but when you hold the sink and look at your reflection the clarity that hits you is that you’re drunk and probably (most definitely) overreacting, and you just find yourself wanting to close your eyes.

So that’s why when you make your way back to your friends, who Alex is still not with, you decide your night is done.

“Guys, I’m going to head back.” You tell all of them, “The wine has gone to my head and I’m so tired after today.”

Each and every one of their faces fall and they all start a little bit of a commotion, shaking their heads and shout over each other drunkenly pleading with you not to go. But it’s a singer who is the one that complains the loudest.

“Noooo come on, Y/N/N.” Miles throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him as he says, “Party with us.”

You smile at him but there’s no way you’ll be giving in. You need your bed. And to get away from Alex and the stunning woman taking all of his attention at the bar.

“Miles, you saw the fall I had earlier today,” You almost wince at the memory, “I’m knackered and just wanna get in bed so I’m good again tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you back.” Jamie offers but immediately you shake your head, having none of it.

“No, you’re having a great time, stay out. Have fun.” You smile, giving him a look to say ‘do not put on your coat’ as you put on your own.

You’ll be perfectly fine getting back by yourself, everywhere is lit well enough to make the 5 minute walk back feel safe. And you could certainly use the time to clear your head.

So you just smirk, wrapping your coat around you and downing the last of your white wine. And you grin, “I'll see you all hungover for breakfast in the morning.”

They all laugh at your little joke, knowing it’ll more than likely come to fruition, before they pull you into hugs goodbye. Flo, you realise, gives the best hugs out in the group, and she holds you tightly as she whispers in your ear, “Are you sure?”

You don’t hesitate to nod, “Positive.”

She pouts a little as you pull away from the hug but you give her a kiss on the cheek and tell her to have another drink for you which makes her giggle and she promises she will. And then the only person left over here you have to hug is your very drunk best friend, and Katie all but smothers you with her bear hug.

God you adore your best friend so much. Or you do until she easily reads between the lines and questions your actions.

“This isn’t to do with Alex, is it?” She asks, pouting like she’s both angry and upset, “Because you can’t let him spoil your fun.”

You hate that she knows you so well, but wanting to go back to your hotel room is only marginally to do with Alex at this point. You know if you drank anymore tonight you’d be worse for wear tomorrow and you don’t want to ruin this precious holiday by staying in your room wanting to throw up.

“No, I'm just tired.” You lie, trying not to even think about the fact that Alex not really giving you any attention and flirting with another girl was what triggered your bad mood in the first place. You tell her, “I just wanna get some sleep.”

“Okay queen.” Katie nods before she pulls back and she looks into your eyes to seriously tell you, “Text me as soon as you get back to the hotel, okay?”

“I will.” You promise her and after she gives you another hug, you turn to leave.

You avoid looking anywhere near the bar even though you have to pass it to leave, but you’re quick and you leave out of the side doors and make it down the stairs fairly quickly. The automatic doors expose you to the cold air quickly and you’re so thankful you chose your long, navy dress this evening, even if you were regretting the slit in it that comes up to just above your knee when the wind hits you.

Thankfully, your ‘going out coat’ is a long one, coming down to just past your knees, and would retain most of your body heat, so as you walk towards the doors you start to slowly button it up. But your buttons aren’t cooperating, they won't go through the bloody buttonhole. Clearly nothing wants to go right for you this evening.

And you end up not paying attention to where you’re going as you walk out of the bar, you don’t realise that the smoking areas out front has gotten busier so you end up turning to head back to your hotel and you bump into someone at quite a little bit of force. Immediately, you end up almost slipping too, not realising that the ground has become slippy too thanks to the fresh snow landing and melting. But before you fall arse over tit, you're saved by your own victim. The poor man you bumped into.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” You say as you grab onto his tattooed arm that stabled you.

And it’s only when you’re sure you’re steady on your feet do you look at the exquisite man. A gasp almost leaves your mouth at just how attractive he is. The strong jawline, the short black hair, the sun kissed skin, and possibly the most stunning eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life. They are such a gorgeous shade of blue they almost look purple, and God, you half wish you could stare into them all night.

“No worries,” The man holding your arm says, and once he’s satisfied you can stand properly again, his eyes drop to take you in.

It makes you feel like your heart is in your throat for the two seconds he checks you out, but under the stare of those gorgeous eyes, it feels like it lasts an age. You can’t help watching as a small smirk forms on his lips, clearly pleased with what he sees and when his eyes meet yours again, you feel like your knees could fall from under you again if he wasn’t still holding you up. He’s dream worthy.

His fingers move down your wrist and he gently comes to squeeze your hand as he smirks but endearingly says, “Careful darling.”

Immediately, the pet name makes you flush, and under his gaze you feel like you’re vibrating somehow, and you realise just how badly you need to get yourself back to your hotel. So to not make a fool out of yourself again, you cut the situation short.

“Thank you.” You give him a gracious smile and a small nod of your head before turning towards your hotel and safely begin to rush off.

In your peripherals, you see the two other men that the stunning man was accompanied by and you’re glad you didn’t interact with them too, because they look just as attractive as their friend. You’d surely crumble under their gazes and start awkwardly chatting their ears off so you’re pleased to get away from both them and that bar.

At least this gives your drunk mind a quick distraction from wondering what Alex and that girl are currently up to. You try not to think about how cosy they might have got or if either of them have made a move. No, you’d rather think about your embarrassing encounter with a model worthy guy who then checked you out and you said thank you to him.

Thank you? God, you’re so fucking stupid for saying thank you Y/N/N, that doesn’t even make sense. Thank you for me bumping into you and being so kind about it? What was the thank you for? Silly bitch.

God you really need to get to sleep. Your brain is absolutely spinning.

Instead you find yourself focussing on the crunch of snow under your boots, how you can see your breath in front of you. And the gentle light coming from the lampposts illuminates the snow that’s slowly falling from the sky and you can’t help but think that it’s so beautiful despite it being so cold.

Finally you manage to do up the buttons of your coat and your hands are stuffed in your pockets as you carry on walking. But it’s only a few seconds later, you hear your name being shouted behind you. You think you’re hearing things so you don’t stop walking, but then you hear someone running behind you and a gentle call of, “Sweet.” As he begins to slow down.

Alex is out of breath by the time he’s beside you, and a gentle hand on your arm stops you from walking. A mixture of emotions runs through you in that moment, happy that he’s not with that girl anymore is certainly one of them, but annoyance at him for him even flirting with someone else hits you all over again.

And it just makes your mood worse, because you absolutely despise being jealous. You hate it. You hate the tightness in your chest and you hate the way you start to second guess everything. And you don’t think you should be second guessing if you’re good enough.

But you keep all of that to yourself, not wanting to annoy Alex or appear jealous or be overbearing. You’re just drunk and you need to get over yourself.

“Sweet.” Alex says a little out of breath, “What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing.” You say more flatly than you meant to and turn to carry on walking to the hotel.

You’d scorn yourself for it, but you’re glad Alex doesn’t pick up on your tone. He just follows after you, falling into step as he asks, “Why are you leaving so early?”

“It’s almost one Alex,” You tell him, “I’m tired.”

You’re certainly not telling him that he’s a part of the reason you’re leaving. Even if he has finally given someone else the time of day for a brief minute tonight.

Trying not to focus on the mixed emotions cursing through you, you end up telling the singer, “You don’t have to walk me back, go back to the bar.”

“And let you walk back on your own at one in the morning?” Alex frowns down at you, “I don’t think so.”

You shake your head slightly at that, knowing he’s just doing that because of the story you told him about how you don’t like to walk alone at night. But you don’t want him here solely because of that. “I don’t need your pity.”

“There’s no pity, I’m just not a dickhead, sweet.” Alex’s smile then turns into a smirk as he throws his arm around your shoulders and he pulls you against him, “Now let me keep you warm.”

Your chest feels lighter somehow at his actions, and it makes you feel all gooey and smiley inside. But your brain is telling you to keep a hard exterior after what you witnessed tonight, so you try and brush him off, “Al, I’m fine.”

But the singer is having none of it. He just holds you tighter teases, “You’re moody.”

“I’m tired.” You correct him, even though you’re lying through your teeth.

“With your little rule, I thought you would have been reserving more energy.” Alex smirks, not being able to pass on the opportunity to torture you that little bit more.

You don’t mute your scoff at that, and decide that silence is what he deserves after that comment and him flirting with someone else all evening. And it hits you all over again how up until a few months ago you’d only get silence and sneers from him, but that woman at the bar instantly got smiles and flirting. It makes you want to push his arm off your shoulder and you fall silent again.

It’s confusing. Wanting to scold him but then also lean into him and accept the joy the simple pleasure of him hugging you brings you. And you’re feeling it all at once. You don’t understand it and don’t really know how to process it.

Sleep. You need sleep.

With his free hand, Alex digs into his coat pocket and pulls out his gloves, noticing you’re shivering, “Here take these.”

“Thank you.” You accept them quietly and graciously and don’t waste much time putting them on, even if they are too big for you.

Alex smiles once you have them on, and he squeezes your shoulder that bit tighter as he grins, “They suit you.”

“Bit big, but I'll take it.” You shrug a little, and give him a bit of a smile so you don’t look like a colossal bitch. It was a kind gesture after all.

Alex grins back down, his eyes bright as he says with a knowing look, “Well, you know what they say about big hands, sweet.”

Holding your own smile back, you fake a roll of your eyes and look away from him, “You’re not funny.”

“What?” Alex asks, faking innocence but smirking, “Just big gloves, nothing untoward.”

You share an amused look then, both looking into each other's eyes and knowing for certain that was not what he was meaning. In those few seconds though, you can’t help but notice how gorgeous he looks, with the snow falling down around him, a few flakes having found home in his hair and he just looks so pretty and happy.

You always want to look at him and see that cheeky smile looking back down at you. It makes you feel all warm inside.

But then that crude sense of humour has to go and ruin the moment.

“Anyway,” He smirks, “You already know how big I am. I don't think I need to remind you just yet.”

The way your cheeks heat up immediately is almost as embarrassing as the way your gaze snaps away from his. You just try to act nonchalant about it, shaking your head, “Way to lower the tone.”

“I think it was your dirty mind that lowered the tone, sweet.” Alex laughs and he has you giggling along with him.

It doesn’t take long to get back to the hotel, and you walk in a comfortable silence with your head finally not filled with everything to do with the bar. You just enjoy having his attention back, and that he keeps pulling you back into him, and rubbing the top of your arm in an effort to keep you warm.

You expect the singer to walk you into the lobby and bid you goodnight there before he heads back out to your other friends. But he surprises you, stepping into the lift with you and even when you’re going up to your floor he keeps his arm around you like he doesn’t want to let you go.

“Thank you for walking me back, you really didn’t have to.” You tell him after he walks you to your door and you get your keycard out of your pocket.

Only when you look at him again does he tell you, “Stop thanking me for being a decent human being.”

You smile at him for a second there, and it is a truly grateful one. Despite everything tonight, you really are thankful he came back with you. If not for your safety, but then at least for your peace of mind about what he was up to when you left. Your chest fills with the hatred of the jealousy you’re feeling once more.

But it’s like the man looking at you can somehow read your emotions. Because he once again flips them on their head when he takes you in again and sees how gorgeous you look in that navy dress and the way it hugs you.

He seems a little breathless as he says, “You really do look incredible tonight by the way.”

You look down at yourself, really not thinking you looked anything more than presentable tonight. But two men have checked you out this evening and seemed pleased with what they saw, and you know Alex well enough now to know that he doesn’t just say these things, he actually means them.

“I- Thank you.” You stumble for a second, but gladly take the compliment.

As you turn to open your door, Alex takes a step towards his, which makes you frown. He’s going to bed?

“You can go back out, you know?” You say before he even takes another step.

You don’t really understand why he’d be going to his room when he could go back out and have a good time with either your friends or the stunning woman he was chatting to. Surely he didn’t just leave because you did?

Alex shrugs, and takes a step back towards you, “Don’t want to.”

“Why?” You can’t help but question, “Looked like you were having a good time.”

“Not that good, I wasn’t spending it with you.” Alex shamelessly flirts as he comes to stand right beside you again, hoping to see you get all flustered.

He adores being the cause of it, and he even likes when you run your mouth back at him and flirt with him too. It makes him happier than he should admit to himself at this point in your little arrangement. But you shock him completely and don’t do either of those things.

No, instead Alex watches as you tense slightly and you become ridged. The smile falling from your face entirely.

“You knew where I was.” You shrug, not knowing what more you could have done. It’s not like you could go up to him and demand his attention, or steal him away and he figures out why and he teases you for it.

You just turn back towards your door and mumble under your breath as you put the card in, “Besides, it seems that you found her quite interesting.”

This has Alex smirking, possibly the biggest he ever has. Not that you can see that smirk as you’re still fumbling about with your keycard and putting it in the door the wrong way. So it gives him a little time to compose himself enough that you won’t hate him when he gets you to look at him again.

You’re jealous. Hence the mood, short replies, and the pout that was just seeping onto your face… It all makes perfect sense now.

Alex tones his smirk down into a slight grin before he get your attention again, “Sweet?”

“What?” You ask, just about managing to open your door before you turn back to him.

And it’s only when you do, you see the way he’s looking at you. His amusement is clear to see, but he doesn’t say anything. He just takes a step close to you, and before you really know it his lips are on yours and he gently eases you backwards until your back is against the heavy door you’ve not opened more than an inch.

It’s a sweet kiss, full of longing and care and words you’ve both yet to say. And the way he gently holds your waist, pulling you against him now, his arm running inside your coat and around your back so he can press you fully against him as his lips move in sync with yours. His hand on your jaw moves that bit higher, so his thumb can caress your cheek and you think this might be the sweetest kiss you’ve ever shared.

It’s gentle and full of emotion, even when his tongue finds home with yours. It makes the both of you hot despite both of your lips softly moving together. Something about it runs deeper, like he’s trying to tell you something without explicitly coming out with it.

His hold on your waist gets that bit tighter which has you melting into him. Unable to stop yourself, you also let out a tiny hum of bliss against his lips and you hold his coat in your fist that bit tighter. This is what you’ve been after all night. This is what you’ve been craving. Him and every last bit of him.

Even when the kiss comes to its natural end, you wish it wasn’t finished. And you’re glad that it doesn’t seem to be. But the man who makes your heart skip a beat says something you really aren’t expecting.

“I’m only interested in sleeping with you.” Alex tells you, before he leaves you with one last breathless kiss.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: What did you think?!?!? NRIACC bestiesssss!! How was it seeing Wheels again?! She's my multiverse I had to hahaha! But how bloody cute are Sweet and Alex, god I adore them so so much. Until next time besties x

Taglist: @alovesreading @kennedy-brooke @red---moon @ladydraculasthings @mrsschw4rtz @quicksilvers3000 @indierockgirrl @heartachenurse @bellaturner @am-monkey @alexturnersmommy @anxiousbeech @cassettecarter @malina-33 @yourorganiccigarette @clownrrai @harleyql @jeonxjinxed @andrews-lovr @justacaliforniandreamer @missbabyjay @hdebay @mirrorbvii @olliemybeloved777 @kaybee87 @simpfortoomanymen @inmyownfantasywrld @ohladymoon @findmeincorneliastreet @faveficz @parkerizzy @thereisaplaceintheheart @hazskillerqueen @bai-wuxiangs-mask @froileinuhrwerk @turnerxtuned @inmyownfantasywrld @missbabyjay @regenerationlottery @heartachenurse @cassettecarter @cylodja @aghsed @harleyql @littlemissthunderstorms @thenightslikeawhiirlwind @not-a-big-slay @raven-ql @minigods @indierockgirrl @yourfwn @frigidbaboon @kittyrob0t @certifiedmindbl0wer

Let me know if you want to be added to the Taglist x

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fappinreborn · 3 months

Note

Hiya, new anon here. Really love your preggo control app fics. I’ve an idea for one if you’re interested…

Using the app to mess around with a heavily pregnant work colleague/boss (either someone they like / dislike, depending on what vibe you want to go for). Starting and stopping the labor throughout the day, accelerating and pausing it at inconvenient moments. The mother-to-be struggling through her hectic day of board meetings, interviews, client calls, trying not to push and give birth in her clothes in front of all these people (but she does)

Pregnancy Control Part 4: Workaholic

After the date that turned into a car birth, the girl hasn't talked to me yet. I had a feeling that she may have rejected me, but since the answer is still uncertain, I needed a distraction. Luckily, I know someone perfect for my next target.

I was browsing social media, saw a group photo of my old team on my feed, and noticed that my ex-boss's pregnant. She had always been a pain in a butt, micromanaging the team and myself, so I took it upon myself for a fun revenge.

I drove on the weekdays to my old office and the phone pinged me about my boss's status: Name: Clarisse

Pregnancy: 35 weeks, 3 days

Labor: Not yet (First contraction in 34 days, 2 hours, 10 minutes )

Babies: 1 (projected to be 7.5lbs)

Current Activity: Work

Birth plan: Hospital

I linked her up and began to work. As usual, first order of business is to bump her pregnancy to overdue and increasing the baby's size to 10lbs. She's not aware of the changes yet so next, I... entranced? suggested?... hypnotized her to focus on the work and ignore the birthing signs.

With the setting ready, I kicked off her labor... and went straight to the birthing process. She now feel the full brunt of the birthing pain and her own baby's coming down. But she's a trooper and pressed on, working to get calls and potential new clients.

I nudged a bit more and the baby's crowning now into her workpants. A bulge's forming between her legs and getting more visible as her body's pushing. As the head reached fully crowning, I finally paused her birth so she can "enjoy" that burning ring of fire.

This went on for a couple hours until she got a meeting with her superiors, the Board of Directors. Other people was noticing her... tiredness, but she brushed it off. The meeting was long and arduous and when it's time for her to speak, I set her to stand and present with the contraction picking up speed and slowly undo the hypnosis...

Soon enough, she broke free and screamed in front of the directors as the baby's head popped out, panicking as the baby's making a massive bulge between her legs. Before anyone's able to help her out, I made sure that the baby came out into her pant leg so that she fully birthed her baby into her pants.

I was... satisfied with the fun revenge, though I doubt she'll get fired over this.

Anyway, I came a lot and then got a ping from the control app, notifying me that a new feature has been added. I blinked a lot as I did not believe such a feature is possible, but the app has never been wrong so far.

The pregnancy control app is satisfied with the births and has awarded me the ability to give the pregnancy... to myself.

"This... this is gonna be fun." I said.

#birth kink #giving birth #labor kink #birth denial #panty birth #clothing birth #public birth #clothed birth #rapid pregnancy

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malice-ov-mercy · 4 months

Text

All I Want for Christmas

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Will Ramos x fem!Reader x Noah Sebastian

Content Warnings: 18+!, smut, threesome, use of sex toy (butt plug), oral (female receiving), fingering, double penetration, unprotected sex (vaginal and anal),

This was a request:

Anon: Could I request some Will x female reader x Noah smut with double penetration? I’m not picky about the rest. I love your work and trust that whatever you write will be great! If this is not something you feel comfortable with I totally understand! Thank you 🙏🏻

A/N: I have never written anything like this in my entire life, so please keep that in mind. I tried my absolute best. I feel like every time I get the urge to write for this little idea of mine, someone requests something. It’s only happened twice, but like… maybe it’s time I like.. ACTUALLY sit down and and write for it. Idk. It’s scary!!! Tho it doesn’t share the same title, it is a part of the All Bark series. ANYWAY. Hope you enjoy it anon!!! ALSO, I RUSHED to get this done by Christmas so it’s still rough and basically unedited, so if it’s a lil wonky and jumbled and messy at times, Im sorry!!!also, the way I was thinking abt writing something like this and then immediately getting this as a request the next day is wild

Word Count: 4.8k

Tag list: @circle-with-me @xxrainstorm @foliosriot @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @reader13000 @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @concretenoah @witchyweeb34 @agravemisstake @an-insane-day @lyschko666 @calisto-thoughts @emzandthevoid

If you would like to be added, please let me know for who! If you tell me everyone/everything, just know that includes anything I may write for Bad Omens AND/OR Will Ramos.

————————————

Noah Masterlist

Will Masterlist

————————————

Will and Noah were lounging comfortably together on the sofa when I nervously stepped into the living room. Will’s arm was draped across the back of the couch. Noah was leaning into his side mindlessly scrolling away on his phone.

“Can I talk to you both really quick?” I asked quietly.

They glanced up at me briefly then shared a look of concern between themselves. Noah locked his phone and tossed it aside. Will reached for the remote while Noah leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. His gaze found mine, worry simmering deep in his almost black, boba-esque eyes.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Will spoke, lowering the TV volume.

I smiled shyly at the pet name. Worry also settled itself in Will’s enchantingly warm brown eyes, but curiosity also presented itself.

“So, I know I said I didn't want anything really special for Christmas,” I started. Panic flashed on their faces, making me chuckle. “Relax, I’m not changing my mind at the last minute.”

My hands and fingers fidgeted nervously as I looked at them. Their gazes bore into me, waiting anxiously for whatever I was about to tell them. I thought about what and how I want to bring this up, but now that the conversation was on the cusp of happening, I froze. Shyness and maybe a hint of embarrassment started creeping through my body.

“Uhm,” I croaked.

Will and Noah’s brows raised, still waiting patiently for me to find my voice. The weight of their stares began to set heavily on my chest. Suddenly I felt overwhelmed and lost all my mustered up courage.

“You know, nevermind.”

The words tumbled from my mouth as I quickly turned to leave.

“Hey, no. Come here.” Noah’s firm yet gentle tone stopped me in my tracks.

I pressed my lips together and closed my eyes. With a deep breath, I turned around and walked slowly towards Will and Noah. They scooted away from each other and made room for me to sit between them. Will flipped the TV off then ran his hand up and down my back. Noah placed a hand on my thigh and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“It’s fine if you’ve changed your mind,” Will spoke first. “You can tell us.” He pressed a kiss to my temple.

Being sandwiched between them only made the anxious gurgling in my stomach worse. Restlessly, I picked at my fingers and cuticles. A tattooed hand from each of them clasped around my fidgeting hands.

Noah bumped his shoulder against mine. “What is it you want for Christmas, baby?”

“It’s something for all three of us.”

Not looking at them proved to be easier for me as I started to explain.

—————

WILL’S POV

Noah wanted to order it online to avoid the crazed holiday crowds, but I insisted on getting it in store. I was worried it wouldn’t arrive on time. Plus, I didn’t want the surprise to get ruined if it happened to come while both he and I were out. This wasn’t necessarily part of her Christmas present, but we thought it would be a nice gesture.

“Are you sure it’s gonna fit?” I questioned.

Noah scoffed. “I’m sure, but I’ll keep the receipt just in case.”

“It just looks… Small.”

“You’ve been with her for so long. How do you not know any of her sizes?”

I shrugged. “I get lucky with my guesses. Plus, it never lasts past the one night. I’ve ripped every piece to shreds.”

“Well don’t fucking ruin this one.” Noah said, handing me the receipt, “It was fucking expensive.”

My eyes bulged out of my head when I saw the price.

—————

CHRISTMAS EVE

“This is from both of us.”

Noah kissed my forehead and handed me a simple red and green bag. Matching expectant and shy smiles were on Will and Noah’s faces. I looked at them and then the gift.

“We thought about waiting ‘til tomorrow, but now seemed better.” Will draped an arm around Noah’s shoulder.

Carefully, I picked up the bag and set it in my lap. Festive tissue paper stuck out of the top. I removed the paper and took a peek inside. A sizable black box was inside along with two other smaller ones wrapped in gold and red paper. Noah’s lips curled into a smirk when I opened the larger box and gasped.

“Are you kidding me?!”

Nestled neatly inside was a dark emerald green matching lace bra and panty. The brand tag was still attached and I nearly died. It was from the store I constantly talked Noah and Will’s ear off about. I’d been wanting something from that store for ages, but could never justify spending that kind of money.

I stared at them incredulously. “How much did this cost you?!”

“Enough that I may actually have to kill Will if he so much as tears a single thread.” Noah shot a warning glare at him, who only snickered.

“I’m a simple man.” Will shrugged. “I see a hot girl in lingerie and I lose my mind a little.”

Noah jabbed him with his elbow which made me giggle.

“The other gifts are more for what you actually asked for.”

Heat spread over my body and across my face. The jovial and light air shifted. Will sensed my hesitation and spoke softly.

“If you don’t want one of them, that’s fine. We thought it would help, so...” His voice trailed off.

They watched with bated breath as I carefully tore open the wrapping paper. One of the gifts was lube. Practical. A sleek, discreet black box was hidden under the other wrapping. I chanced a glance at Will and Noah, both of them giving me small smiles.

With slightly shaky hands, I opened the box. The warmth in my face intensified. Three different sizes of steel butt plugs awaited, each one adorned with a heart-shaped, emerald green gem. The metal was cool against my fingers. Nervous excitement stirred in my blood. My mind ran wild with erotic images. I bit my lip to keep my grin from breaking my face.

“Do you like them?” Will’s voice cut through my thoughts.

I turned my attention to Will and Noah. Noah’s face held no expression but his eyes were laced with anticipation. Will wore his emotion in his face, an equal amount of anticipation and a sprinkle of worry in his expression. It was touching that they were so concerned.

“I like them a lot!” I beamed.

Their shoulders relaxed.

“I’m just…” I looked back at the intimate gifts. “I have a lot of ideas swimming in my head.”

Mischief and intent flickered in Noah’s eyes. “Well, we can get a start on that tomorrow then.”

He walked towards me, Will close on his heels, and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. Will covered Noah’s kiss with his own.

“I expect you to wear that set all day tomorrow.” Will husked.

—————

CHRISTMAS DAY

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, admiring myself and the expensive lingerie the boys gifted me. The color looked incredible against my skin. I’d worn it all day like Will asked. Neither of them could keep their hands to themselves, even going as far to push the other away to touch me anywhere they could. Will managed to rip one of my favorite holiday sweaters trying to get a look at the lingerie underneath. They were like starved beasts and I was the helpless little doe.

Downstairs, I could hear Will screaming demonically along to Christmas tunes with Noah joining him periodically. Getting them to leave me alone while I prepared was almost impossible. They were so eager and willing to help. I felt a tinge of guilt for banning them to the living room, but I needed a moment to myself.

I fluffed out my hair and turned around. Bending down slightly, ran a hand over my ass cheek and spread them, just enough to see the heart-shaped emerald gem. It was an odd sensation, but intensely pleasurable. The coolness of the steel as I carefully inserted the plug rippled through my entire being. My skin felt hyper charged and electric.

“All I want for Christmas is YOU!” Will belted, his goblin-like vocals accompanied by Noah’s joyful laughter.

With a final look in the mirror and a quick deep breath, I grabbed the lube and made my way out of our shared bedroom. Noah and Will were still screaming and singing along to Christmas songs as I silently walked down the stairs. The tree in the living room illuminated the space. Soft warm white light cast a cozy and comfortable aura.

Noah stopped mid word when his eyes landed on me. A tiny and sheepish smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. Will shot up off the couch, his eyes fixed just as intensely on me. Noah stepped behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. He pressed a soft kiss to Will’s neck then propped his chin on his shoulder.

Neither of them wore a shirt or pants, only donning the matching holiday briefs I gifted them earlier this month, and Will wearing a Santa that I didn’t even know we had. I let myself happily and hungrily drink in the sight of their heavily tattooed bodies. They looked heavenly.

Their gazes were saturated in desire as I continued my descent down the stairs, closing the remaining distance between us. A blend of excitement and nerves bubbled in my gut. Will and Noah’s eyes roamed my body from head to toe, memorizing every detail of my skin and already heightened breath, studying every little movement and twitch I made, like predators stalking their prey—except I was more than willing to let myself be devoured.

“You look pretty.” Noah said, his voice low and calm.

I offered a smile as thanks and handed him the bottle of lube. He pressed another kiss to Will’s neck as he grabbed it, letting Will slip from his hold.

Will said nothing. He continued to stare at me, a carnal desire burning deep and fiercely in his eyes. I shifted, nervous and eager under his gaze. If I was a betting woman, I’d bet his mind was running wild with dirty and erotic thoughts.

“Will?” My words were shaky and barely above a whisper.

He stayed lost in his daydream until I reached for his hand. He blinked a few times, breaking himself out of his trance then smiled brightly.

“Hi.”

I chuckled softly. “Hi.”

Will reached for his Santa hat and removed it, placing it on my head. He dipped his head down and placed a chaste kiss on my lips.

“It looks better on you.” Noah smirked.

He laughed fondly at Will’s pout. Noah patted Will’s arm and gestured for him to sit. Will interlocked our fingers and guided me to his spot on the couch. Noah set the bottle on the end table then stepped behind me. His hands started massaging my neck and shoulders. I groaned, the knots and stiffness in my muscles melting away at his tender yet purposeful movements.

“You’re so tense,” he said, breath warm in my ear, “We need you relaxed, baby.”

Noah pressed a phantom kiss below my ear lobe. My eyes fluttered shut as he continued to work out the kinks. He snuck his fingers under the straps of my bra and slowly slipped them off my shoulders. His lips teasingly ghosted along my neck, never giving me the satisfaction of his full mouth against my skin. His breath and soft touches blazed a searing path of goosebumps and heat everywhere on my body.

Will slid off the couch and kneeled before me. He ran his softly calloused hands up my legs, following the trail they made with his lips. A quiet gasp fluttered past my tongue and I leaned back into Noah. He kissed my neck lightly, eliciting another sound from me. Will’s thumbs rubbed small, delicate circles in my thighs and eased my legs apart. He slipped his hands under the waistband of my thong, and slowly peeled it away.

Taking Will’s lead, Noah unclasped my bra with practiced expertise, using only one hand while the other resumed its exploration of my body. He carefully helped me remove it and softly tossed it somewhere behind us. Will blessed my thighs with hot, open mouthed kisses, making sure each one was sufficiently spoiled. I looked down at him through my lashes. His love drunk eyes were already locked on to me, soaking in the sight of Noah sensually caressing my figure.

Will dug his fingers into my hips. He softly and audibly kissed my outer lips, merely taunting me and making me squirm in Noah’s hold. Noah pressed his body against mine, his hard cock rutting against my ass. One of his hands slithered up my chest and rested gently on my exposed throat. The other split its time, tenderly fondling each of my breasts as Will latched his mouth on my dripping pussy, loudly and ravenously enjoying his appetizer.

The moan that left my lungs was desperate and low.

“How’s she taste, Will?” The edge in Noah’s voice sent a shiver down deep to my bones. “How wet is she?”

Noah’s hand left my breasts and slid it down to my ass, roughly grabbing a handful. Will’s response was only a delighted hum that rippled through my body. His tongue flicked meticulously at my clit, moving in just the right way to make my legs go weak. I clung to Noah for stability.

“Oh, she’s extra sensitive tonight.” Noah rasped.

His hand slotted between my cheeks, using his wrist to help spread them slightly. I sucked in a sharp breath as he touched the plug still in my ass.

“I can’t wait for that to be my cock buried in you.”

Both my pussy and asshole throbbed. Noah closed his mouth on the crook of my neck, sucking soft kisses across my shoulder. His hands wandered my skin freely once more, his touch gentle and warm.

Will inserted a finger in my pussy. He wasted no time, immediately curling in search of the sensitive, spongy spot. It took a few deep, hard thrusts before he successfully found it and got the response he wanted. Noah pushed his cock against me again.

I choked a high pitched whine, a familiar elation building inside me. I didn’t know how intense my orgasm would be, but it promised to be electric.

Another finger slid inside me, edging me closer and closer to release.

Noah scraped his teeth along my nape. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

All I could do was nod. Will quickened his fingers and tongue, lapping and pumping relentlessly. Noah found his way back to my breasts and squeezed them, running his thumbs over my perked, hard nipples. He pinched and twisted the buds delicately, groaning into my neck each time I arched back and grinded against him.

“Be a good girl and cum for Will.”

I wanted to be good for Noah. I wanted to be good for Will. The edge was right there. I was on the cusp of my orgasm.

My eyes screwed shut, a white haze and speckled faux galaxies expanded and melded behind my lids. Noah embraced me closer as my body started to shudder. My hands searched for something to grasp. Each of them found Will and Noah’s head and gripped their hair tightly.

With sputtering breaths, I came on Will’s mouth and fingers. My mind was void of anything else except the overwhelming pleasure washing over me. Noah cradled me as my climax shook my body, whispering soft words about how good I was for listening. Will’s tongue coaxed me along, hungrily licking everything up, not leaving a drop behind.

I relaxed in Noah’s arms with a heavy, satisfied sigh as Will detached from me, all the tenseness in my muscles long forgotten. Noah stroked his hands down and up my arms.

I glanced down at Will.

From nose to chin was covered and glistening in my arousal. His eyes shone brightly in the soft warm white glow of the Christmas tree. One of my favorite things in the entire universe is how awestruck and lovingly Will looks at me after giving me oral. It’s like the entire world’s joy and happiness is contained in his rich brown eyes.

Will stood, his knees popping and cracking, and cupped my face. His thumbs stroked the tops of my cheeks.

“Good?” He asked.

“Good.” I smiled. Will mirrored it.

He softly pressed his lips to mine, kissing me sweetly and tenderly, pulling all the air from lungs. Noah’s hands traveled to my stomach. He pressed his fingertips into my skin, gently kneading and massaging the softness there. I gasped as his hand dipped between my thighs and spread my folds. His fingers mindlessly played in my arousal and lingering saliva, no rhyme or reason to his motions.

Will trailed kisses up my neck until he found Noah’s lips. Noah moaned deeply, enjoying the taste of me on Will's tongue. I was sandwiched completely between them, their bodies warm on my chest and back. I could do nothing but be overwhelmed in their body heat as their kiss turned sloppy and desperate, their teeth clacking together. Noah let go of me and gripped Will’s face with force. It’s as if they momentarily forgot about me, focusing only on each other, getting lost in the moment and the mashing of their tongues and lips.

My strained whimper and constricted squirming broke them out of their spell. Noah and Will broke apart and panted breathlessly into their mouths.

Noah pulled away first, the warmth of his body replaced with the cool air of the living room. He tugged his briefs down, his hard cock springing free. Will followed suit and kicked the discarded fabric away. He laid back on the couch, spreading his legs wide. The sight of him sprawled out, cock leaking precum and his lustful, lascivious gaze made me throb and clench. He held a hand out for me and I grabbed it happily, lacing our fingers together.

Will helped me crawl on top of him, but stopped me from sitting on his waiting erection.

“Just a second, love.” Will kissed my hand. “Noah, toss me the lube.”

He caught the bottle with ease and flipped it open. Will squirted a decent amount in his fingers then tossed the bottle back to Noah. I watched Will slowly jerk himself, slicking his up his dick. His head fell back as he gingerly ran his fingers over the head, smearing his precum all around. Will then reached for me, brushing his slick fingers over my clit and wiping the remaining lube down my slit. I shuddered as he teasingly slid a finger inside.

“Baby, you’re absolutely soaked.” Will said, removing his finger.

I grabbed Will’s cock and he closed his hand over mine. I straddled his lap, positioning myself so I could align him with my entrance. Will helped, then I lowered, his cock inserting with ease. His fingers dug in my hips. My walls throbbed around him. The sensation of my pussy and ass being filled made my head spin.

Will’s eyes fell shut and his head dropped back, a deep groan erupting from his chest. “You feel so good, oh my god.”

I wriggled my hips, relishing in the sound of Will’s tiny whines. Noah placed his large hands on my ass and squeezed my cheeks. He bent over, chest laying flush on my back.

“As much as I’d love to watch you ride, I’m aching to get inside you.” Noah nipped my shoulder.

“Could you stay still for me so I can take this out,” he reached for the heart-shaped gem between my cheeks, “And put my cock there instead?”

I stilled my movements as he lightly tugged on the plug. An electric jolt shot through me, my pussy and ass clenched. Will muttered a quiet curse under his breath. Noah hummed. I fixed my eyes on Will. His jaw was set firmly. He wanted to move just as badly as I did.

Behind me, I heard Noah open the bottle then felt a trickle of wetness sliding down my crack. I shivered as he carefully and slowly pulled the plug from my hole. My hands landed on Will’s chest with a loud smack as I adjusted to the emptiness. A quiver spread throughout my entire body, gasping breathless breaths struggled to leave my lungs. My pussy and hole throbbed again. Will sunk his nails into my flesh and thrusted hips a few times, unable to control himself.

“Fuck, you need to hurry the fuck up Noah,” Will strained, “I’m losing my mind just laying here.”

Noah chuckled, taking his place behind me. “She needs time to adjust, Will.”

I felt him press the head of his slicked up cock to my equally slicked hole. My breath hitched in anticipation.

“If you’re uncomfortable at any point, say ‘red’.” Noah kissed between my shoulders. “Don’t push yourself, okay baby?”

I kept my eyes locked on Will and nodded. “Okay.”

“I’m gonna ease in, alright? Just stay focused on Will and breathe.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

Noah pushed the tip of his dick to my hole, inching inside with some resistance. My whimper prompted him to halt until I gave him a small nod to continue. He mumbled swears to himself as he slowly eased deeper, making sure to give me time to adjust to his size. My body trembled softly as Noah bottomed out, his entire cock buried balls deep. He planted his hand on my hips and gripped them firmly. Both Will and Noah let out simultaneous moans as I clenched around them.

A new type of pleasure and euphoria coursed through my blood. It was dizzying and mind numbing being so full of them both at the same time. Not a single thought could be found in my brain.

“Good, baby?” One of them asked. The voice sounded far away.

“So good.” I croaked. “So, so, so, so good.”

Desperately, I wiggled between them, needing more from each of them, a festering desire and unbridled arousal blazed across every millimeter of my skin. My body was weak and useless. I couldn’t move the way I wanted and it frustrated me, which only added fuel to my fire. All I could do was lay there and be leisurely fucked. Their worry about my comfort was so sweet and touching, but I wasn’t fragile. I needed to be broken in half.

“Please,” I shamelessly begged. “I need more. Fuck me.”

Will’s hold on my waist turned bruising. “Are you—“

“Yes.” I didn’t even give him time to ask. I know what I needed and wanted.

Will looked past me to Noah. I couldn’t see Noah’s face, but the change in Will’s expression was telling.

“You heard her, Will,” Noah wrapped my hair around his fist and pulled. “The Christmas slut wants to be fucked.”

A primal cry ripped from my throat as Noah rammed my ass with force. Will snapped his hips with just as much power and force, further stealing my voice. The only sounds escaping me were erotic moans and slick, wet slapping of skin and dick fucking into me deep, hard, and thorough.

To my lewd heart’s desire, I’d been rendered to a living fuck doll.

It felt as if Will and Noah were in a silent competition with one another, each of them pounding into my holes at different speeds and force, seeing who could pull the loudest noise from me. Ferality rolled off them in waves, smothering me and beautifully poisoning the air I breathed. Their own moans and grunting drowned out the long forgotten Christmas music. There would no doubt be bruising on my waist from Will’s death grasp, and Noah’s teeth may need to be surgically removed from my shoulder.

Noah hiked a leg up on the couch, the shift allowing him to somehow sink even further in my ass. His grunting and breathing deepened. My loins stirred again, a sensation springing to life, letting me know I was nearing ecstasy once more.

“Noah. Will.” My voice was barely audible amongst all the pornographic sounds surrounding us.

I pressed myself more to Will, desperate for more friction at my clit. I couldn’t easily reach between our bodies, so my only option was to try my damnedest to grind against Will. In a last ditch effort, I attempted to circle my hips, a blissful, loud moan leaving my throat as I found the perfect way to move to take what I needed.

“What a mess you are, love.” Will rasped. “Can you make that slutty noise again for me?”

I worked my hips quicker. Tingling tension buzzed beneath my skin and seeped into my muscles and joints. The heaven I craved was so close I could taste it, feel it on the tip of my tongue.

“Will asked you a question.” Noah said, landing a harsh smack on my ass.

The sharp, stinging sensation tipped me closer to the edge. He repeated the action. Another shameful noise tumbled out of my chest. I was right there, I just needed one more push, something to cut the thread barely holding me together.

Noah let go of my hair and gripped my hip, his hold like a vice. His voice was strained as he spoke.

“Where do you want me to cum?”

“Inside. Please.”

“Fuck. Take it, take it, take it. Fucking take it.”

His thrusts stuttered and grew sloppy. He yanked my hips close then stilled with a low, whiny grunt. I felt his cock pulse and throb, filling my ass with thick ropes of semen. I shuddered, delighted with the strange yet immensely pleasurable sensation. It was just what I needed.

The same blend of euphoria and elation from earlier barreled through every fiber of my being. A choked, almost inhuman moan escaped from deep within me. The world around me faded. I lost control of my body as it trembled and shook with blissful, earth shattering intensity.

“Oh fucking… fuck!”

A string of colorful swears fell from Will’s mouth as he came hard with one final snap of his hips, thrusting staggeredly and pumping my cunt full of his own semen. He sloppily fucked me through the rest of my orgasm, turning what bones and thoughts I had left to mush and gelatin. I felt absolutely filled to the brim with cum.

Softly, I collapsed on top of Will. My body was spent. I couldn’t move a single muscle. All of us were heaps of heavy breathing and worn out piles of people.

Noah rubbed his hands up and down my back while Will stroked his over my hair.

“You okay?” Noah asked.

“Perfect. Tired.” I replied.

He chuckled. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

Noah slowly and cautiously pulled out of me. I sighed, immediately missing the feel of him. Will wrapped his arms around me, shifting so he could also pull out and lay back fully on the couch. His fingers threaded in my hair and massaged my scalp. I melted into his embrace.

“You did so good, my love.” He softly kissed my forehead.

Sleep started to tug my eyelids and settle in my joints. Will quietly hummed along to the Christmas music still going in the background. He traced a lazy finger up and down my spine, pulling me closer and closer to slumber.

Noah returned some time later with a washcloth.

“Can you flip over for me please?”

With a defiant groan, I reluctantly turned over. Will draped his arms over my stomach and kissed my cheek. Noah sat on the couch and spread my legs, eyes darkening just a touch at the sight of the mess we made.

The warmth of the washcloth made me sigh contentedly.

“I also ran us a bath.” Noah kissed me softly then Will. “Think you can walk, or should I carry you?”

“Carry me.”

He smiled fondly and stood, slipping an arm under my legs and under my back, scooping me up bridal style with ease. Will hoisted himself up and slipped an arm low around Noah’s back.

“Your gym time is paying off.” I teased.

Noah scoffed. “Yeah, yeah.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and cradled my face into his shoulder. His skin was warm. The steady rhythm of his heart thudded in his chest. I let my eyes flutter shut, exhaustion once again setting in my body. I would feel everything tomorrow, but it was a small price to pay. A nice hot bath sounded wonderful, a perfect end to the perfect Christmas.

#will ramos x noah sebastian #will ramos x reader #noah sebastian x reader #will ramos fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #will ramos x reader x noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #lorna shore fanfiction #will ramos fanfic #noah sebastian fanfic #will ramos fic #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #lorna shore fanfic #lorna shore fic

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gotta-get-back-to-hatchetfield · 1 year

Text

Here's what you missed on Hatchetfield...

Okay so Nerdy Prudes Must Die is happening in a month's time and I'm aware that lots of people who enjoyed guy who didn't like musicals and black friday might not have had time to watch nightmare time. While Nick has said this musical will be fully stand alone and no knowledge of nightmare time is required, nonetheless some of you might be curious about what we've learned that might come up

Presenting a tldr lore drop for nightmare time:

1) Wiggly has brothers (aka the Lords in Black)

You remember Wiggly from black friday? That ugly green little fucker? Well turns out he has brothers. They call themselves the Lords in black because they're pretentious little fucks and they all have different 'powers'.

Itemised list

Pokey (pokotho) - mind control type stuff, likes to make hiveminds

Wiggly (Wiggog Y'wrath) - idk you saw black friday whatever the fuck goes on there

Blinky (blinklotep) - massive eye, likes watching things

Tinky (T'noy karaxis) - fucks with time

Nibbly (nibblenephem) - massive mouth, eats shit

You've actually met Pokey before - remember the blue shit from guy who didn't like musicals? That's the same blue shit leaking out of the cracks in pokey's face in the picture above.

They also have a sister called Webby that I believe Hannah references in Black Friday. We don't know much about her but thus far she seems like a good guy

2) Grace Chasity is a nerdy prude

Remember the girl Bill is trying to set Alice up in guy who didn't like musicals because 'at least she's nice to him in church'?

Well turns out Alice was right. Grace Chasity is a nerdy prude. And also coincidentally one of the main characters of Nerdy Prudes Must Die (to be played by Angela Giarratana).

We meet her in nightmare time 2 (episode 2 part 2) which takes place at a religious camp designed to educate people about the perils of pre marital sex.

Grace Chasity is, well she's many things, but she is very much the stereotype of an American evangelical Christian. She even showers with a swimming costume on so as not to tempt herself into sin.

Despite all this, however, she is a devious motherfucker who will absolutely fuck you up

3) You remember Ted from guy who didn't like musicals...

Well not only are he and the homeless guy the same person (time travel, its a whole thing, blame the yellow guy from the Lords in black photo)

But also we learn that his surname is Spankoffski (because of course it is) and he has a 'nerdy little brother' called Pete Spankoffski who will be one of the leads in nerdy prudes. In nightmare time he's played by Nick Lang but in nerdy prudes he'll be played by Joey Richter

We meet Pete in nightmare time 2 (episode 2 part 2) but we've actually met him before in guy who didn't like musicals. You remember hot chocolate boy? The one who had very low blood sugar?

Yup you guessed it that is one Peter Spankoffski

(If you've been super out of the loop and are wondering why he was recast and for that matter where the heck is Robert anyway just trust that that is a whole thing im not going to get into and it's for the best he's gone)

4) Meet the Lauters

Two more characters who have been announced for NPMD who we met in nightmare time 2 are Stephanie Lauter (Mariah Rose Faith) and her father Solomon Lauter (Corey Dorris)

Steph is actually pretty nice and chill on the inside but definitely has a reputation for being a bit of a party animal/wild child.

This isn't helped by her father who is the mayor of hatchetfield and from what little we see of him will always put his career before his daughter.

Steph and Pete hook up in nightmare time so look out for a possible romance between these two

5) What the fuck is a Holloduke?

You may have seen the word 'holloduke' batted a lot around this fandom lately which refers to the ship of two characters that we've been introduced to through nightmare time.

While it's unclear if either of them will appear in nerdy prudes, given that both Kim and Curt are in the cast and they go a long way out of their way in nightmare time to show Kim's character getting a job at Hatchetfield High in set up for *something* a lot of people think there's a good chance she at least will be appearing.

The Hollo of these characters is called Miss Holloway although at the end of nightmare time she ends up ret conning herself and is forced to assume a new identity as Miss Holiday so if we meet her in nerdy prudes that will likely be her name. She is a witch who has a deep love for all things 80s. We don't know a huge amount about her but that might be because she's cursed(?) so that anything she reveals about her backstory will be instantly wiped from the mind of the listener.

Curts character is an ordinary social worker called Duke who among other things works with Hannah and Lex when they're having troubles with their mum. He's in love with Miss Holloway/Holiday, and it's reciprocated, but due to the curse(?) et al things keep not quite working out for them.

They're both absolutely wonderful people who deserve the world and are absolute OTP fodder

6) The Gift

We don't know a huge amount about this yet but we do know that some people in Hatchetfield, notably including Hannah from black friday have something called 'the gift' which gives them some loose powers

Most people grow out of the gift as they go through puberty, for instance Lex also used to have it, but they may be able to use it in some scenarios (such as manifesting a firearm from the black and white as Lex does in Black Friday)

People with the gift were historically persecuted in Hatchetfield by a group of people called 'the hatchet men' who may or may not have turned them into trees(?)

7) The Black Book

There is a book of spells called the black book which Miss Holloway/Holiday uses to do her magic

#starkid #hatchetfield #guy who didnt like musicals #tgwdlm #nerdy prudes must die #npmd #black friday #nightmare time

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elletheactualmenace · 3 months

Text

You Would do That for Me? - Pt. 2

Pairing: MCU!Peter Parker x Stark!fem!reader

Summary: Todays the day. You and Peter are going to confess your “secret relationship”. How will your best friends take it?

Warnings: swearing, Not in this part but is present in other parts -Verbal assault, Little but some physical assault, Catcalling, Bullying,

Word Count: 3.5k

a/n: Sorry this took so long, lifes been crazy recently. Sorry in advance to any star war lovers. Let me know if I missed any warnings. And also @kaleidoscopewritings19 you asked me to put you on my tag list so here! Im glad I could be of some help, and thanks for being interested in my writing! Anyways enjoy this part!

Thoughts = “Italicized dialogue”

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

“Peter!” Someone calls and Peter turns from his place at his open locker. He sees Ned walking over with a tired smile on his face.

“Hey,” Peter waves before turning back to his locked to pull books out and put them in.

“Guess what?” Ned asks spinning the lock on his locker, which was right next to Peters.

“What?”

“I found it.” Peter stops his movements. And he turns his head slowly to Ned with wide eyes.

“You found it? Like actually found it?” Peter asks in disbelief.

“Yeah.” Ned nods slowly so Peter catches it.

“How? Where?” Peter asks quickly. And Ned pauses, like he’s been caught. Peters brows scrunch in confusion.

“Okay, now, hear me out,” Ned starts chuckling nervously. “It wasn’t the official site, but-“

“You didn’t order it from a legitimate, original site?” Peter asks face palming. Ned really wants a Lego set that has been sold out for weeks, and desperate times call for desperate measures.

“I never said it was illegal.” Ned argues, opening his locker and quickly stuffing some of his textbooks in.

“So it was a scam?” Peter asks as Ned shuts his locker, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“Not a scam.” Ned counters.

“Definitely a scam.”

“No, no, no, Peter, listen to me, I know it isn't a scam, because my cousins, best friends, little brother also ordered from the website and it came." Ned says like he is trying to convince himself.

"I don't think that's a credible source, dude. Have you even met your cousins, aunts, friends, brother?" Peter asks skeptically, raising a brow.

"It was my cousins, best friends, little brother." Ned grumbled out with an eye roll. And Peter puts his hands up in defense.

“The fact that you have to correct him just proves the point more.” Peter hears your voice and before his eyes even meet you butterflies erupt in his stomach. He tries to push away the nervousness and act normal.

“See exactly!” Peter exclamins in your dereliction. Ned leans in close to Peter's ear.

“She’s only agreeing with you because she likes you.” Ned whispers in an annoyed voice. Immediately Peter's face goes bright pink in embarrassment. He hits Ned's arm and steps away from him so he can rub the back of his neck. Peter begs anything that may be listening that you didn’t hear Ned.

You couldn’t like him. He isn’t your type. You deserve someone who’s confident, handsome and in your league. All the things Peter doesn’t excel in.

“My point proven,” Ned says quietly. Peter begs anything that may be listening that you didn’t hear Ned.

Before Peter can form a rebuttal the bell rings. He sighs still embarrassed trying to look anywhere but your face.

“Okay come on you five year olds, let's stop arguing about credible sources, and whose brother said what.” You put your hands on both Peter and Ned's backs, pushing them to their first period. The second your hand meets the fabric of Peter sweatshirt his whole body stiffens. Peter tries to ignore the fact that you’re touching him, and focus on walking.

——

“You would- do that for me?” Peter's heart is pounding, he can’t believe this is happening. There is no way that you are asking him if you can be his girlfriend.

When the words fall from his mouth he really wants you to reply with something romantic like “I’d do anything for you,” and then kiss him till he feels dizzy, but he knows his wishful thinking is only that, a wish.

“Well, I mean, sure. And anyways, you’d keep the creepy guys away from me.” His eyes grow impossibly wider.

What is happening? Did he do something? Are you messing with him? Why in the world would you, Y/n Stark, be asking little nobody Peter Parker to be your boyfriend?

Peter’s mouth is agape and he's trying to figure out how to speak. He can’t form a sentence with everything running through his head.

“God, Peter stop being an idiot for once and say something to her! She's waiting.”

“I- I-“

“Just spit it out, Peter.”

“I would love- to be your boyfriend Y/n.” Peter sees your shoulders untense and drop before a smile is plastered on your face.

“Really?” You ask him and he nods so fast it gives him whiplash. Of course he wants to, how could he not. He wants to pour his heart and soul out to you right now, for fucks sake.

“Yeah.” He replies with such a big smile it hurts his face.

“I can’t believe you said yes,” You blurt out. Peter hesitates before asking, not wanting this beautiful moment to so quickly fade.

“Why would I say no?”

“Well- umm- i don’t know.” You shrug awkwardly. Peter blinks waiting for an answer.

“I donno, I thought maybe you would think it would ruin our friendship.” Peter nods in understanding.

“But- but I want you to know that this is strictly pretend. And for the benefit of both of us.” You comment quickly, trying to explain the rules of the agreement.

Peter's heart is hit with a pang of sadness. He wishes it was real with all of his heart. But for now, he has to be happy at the opportunity to even pretend to date you. After all, you asked him. Not Ned, not some random guy, him. And god, did that make his heart swell.

“Yeah, of course.” He says, nodding quickly.

“Okay good.” You say, “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Peter only nods with a smile. His face may be calm and collected but his heart is doing flips.

“When- when will this,” he pauses, not sure if he can use the word he wants to use. “Relationship being? Or sorry- when will we- you know, start?” Peter asks in a jumble of words.

Your brows furrow. You didn’t get that far, unfortunately. You tap your chin in thought.

“Umm…not sure. Tomorrow maybe?” You say, still thinking.

“Tomorrow!?”

Peter thinks as panic, excitement and horror sets in. He’s happy but nervous, everything is happening so fast.

“Yeah um-“ his voice cracks and he curses the puberty gods for being so cruel.

“Sounds good.” He says more calmly this time.

You outstretch your hand to shake his, he does the same.

“Okay. Tomorrow it is.” You say with a smile. “But before that, I think we need to clear a few more things up. Just to make it convincing.”

Peter nods in agreement, trying to look as smart and put together as you are right now. But in reality he’s just happy you haven’t stopped shaking his hand.

——

Peter's day has been crazy. When he woke up this morning he hadn’t and couldn’t have thought or dreamed up anything that’s happened.

First, almost missing the train, second getting humiliated in front of the whole class, he could’ve thought that up, but, you being there to hear it and then standing up for him? He couldn’t believe it. And second, which happened to be more unbelievable, you asked him the question he’s been trying to find the courage to ask you. But even better, you skipped right to boyfriend and Girlfriend. You skipped the awkward dating and testing the water straight to holding hands and cuddling.

Obviously he didn’t mean that that’s what was going to happen, but one could only hope. And even if the hand holding wouldn’t happen at least he could call himself your boyfriend.

He always tries to stay level headed whenever Flash is like that. He doesn’t want it to get to his head, that could affect his productivity and performance in both school and as Spiderman. It also helped to know that Flash looked up to Spiderman and thought he was cool, that made the tension in his fist easy up whenever Flash said something dickish.

Overall, Peter has had a great day. Now he is laying in bed after patrol, his mind is racing with a million thoughts a second. He still needed to process everything that happened that day.

You and Peter had discussed and decided to keep the bid up around Ned and MJ. You both concluded it would be more convenient and convincing if they believed it too.

You also talked about the backstory. You would go to school and pretend like you were both coming clean about your hidden ‘relationship’ after a couple months of not telling them. You’d confessed to ‘falling in love’ with each other over Summer break. And after a while decided to ‘try it out’. And here you were.

It was a perfect plan. You and Peter had in fact spent a portion on summer break together at your Dads beach house. Ned couldn’t go and a family emergency kept MJ from coming. So you and Peter were alone. It’s the perfect setting for a fake love story.

Peter knew that Ned would be so mad that he wasn’t in on the secret relationship. He needed a good cover for that. After all, Peter told Ned he was Spiderman, and you still don’t know. Hopefully he could also make sure Ned didn’t tell you any secrets that didn’t need to be shared. Like the fact that Peter has a big fat crush on you. And has been crushing for quite some time now.

If Ned slips that piece of information to you, you’ll know he actually likes you. It would be awkward. And obviously Ned will think you guys or together so it doesn't matter, because you both like each other. While, in fact you are only doing this for the mutual benefit of the both of you, not because you like him like that.

God. He had so much to prepare for. And you stayed late, making his patrol rounds run later. He's exhausted, but he can’t sleep until he comes up with a way to protect his fragile ego.

You on the other hand aren’t as anxious, you have a plan. Kind of, it's more like a detailed outline with missing chunks. But a plan nonetheless. You know what you’ll say to MJ when she gets pissed at you for not telling her. And you know what you’ll say when she eventually forgives you for not telling her and then asks about all the details of your relationship.

You know what you’ll say, and you are prepared. You just hope it won’t come to her asking if you two have gone farther than a kiss.

——

“We got this.” Peter whispers to himself as he waits for you at the school’s entrance. His head is down in thought. Mind and body both anxious.

“Definitely got this.” Peter jumps at the sound of your voice. He didn’t sense you at all. Not that it would trigger his Peter tingle, like aunt May liked to call it, because you weren’t dangerous.

“Sorry,” you apologize “didn't mean to spook you. But we do got this. We’ll be fine.” You say reaching up to rub his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

Peter's body stiffens and you pull away, not trying to make him more uncomfortable. But in reality he was just nervous around you.

You pause, a little worried about him.

“You know we don’t have to do this Pete.” You smile softly.

“No, no, no, no, no.” He rambles out quickly, “We do- I mean we should.” He stumbles over his words.

“I'm good.” confirms, and he takes a quick breath and nods to you. You nod back smiling at him.

“Okay then,” You say, sheepishly offering your hand to him. “Let's do this.”

Peter’s hand slips into yours and his heart beats so loud he can hear it. From the looks of it, you aren’t as in awe as he is with the two of you holding hands. But why would you? You’re not really together or anything.

You and Peter walk down the hall in silence, both anxious of the awkward conversation that's going to take place. Peter's head spins and he keeps his eyes down avoiding any human interactions, trying to think. He thought about this all last night, sure, but one night to think about something this big isn’t a lot of time. You probably just want the help you need as soon as possible.

“Wait,” the thoughts in his head stop for a second as something dawns on him. “What is Y/n getting out of this fake relationship?”

He felt so stupid for not thinking about it before now, and he felt like an asshole even more for not asking you. What was going on in your life, that you needed a boyfriend to fix? Were you getting made fun of too? Or was it worse than that?

He tries to think back to last night, when you asked him to be your fake boyfriend. What had you said? His mind is scavenging through everything from last night.

“Okay, calm down Peter. Just think. What did she say? How did the conversation start? She had to have said the reason at some point.

She said:

‘I could pretend to be your girlfriend at school and stuff. Then no one would ever give you a hard time,’

Then I said:

‘You would do that for me?’

Then she said:

…

What did she say after that? Oh god, what did she say?”

Peter panics. He has been so wrapped up in his own gain, that he forgot he was supposed to be helping you too. There was something you needed him for. But he couldn’t remember.

Peter opened his mouth to ask you, worry and guilt, replacing the previous anxiety. There was a pit so deep in his stomach he swore he could throw a rock in and it would take an hour for it to hit the bottom.

He lips part ready to ask, but he doesn’t get to, because his eyes catch sight of MJs worn down Converse All-stars. He lifts his gaze to meet MJs. He can’t bring it up right now.

“Peter?” She asks, “You good? You look like you did when you first found out Y/n doesn’t like Star Wars.” MJ informs.

You laugh at MJs comment and it makes him turn to look at you. He’ll have to ask you about it later. Right now you both have to “come clean” to your two best friends.

“Yeah, umm” He clears his throat, “I'm good, sorry, just thinking.” MJ keeps her eyebrow raised as Ned walks over butting into the conversation.

“Also, why are you and Y/n holding hands like you're on a date?” You again laugh, but this time awkwardly.

“Well,” You smile shyly, Peter squeezes your hand lightly, letting you know he's here for you. You give him a soft smile and a nod of appreciation. “We have something to tell you guys.”

“Yeah,” Peter adds on with a smile. Ned and MJ give each other looks before turning their focus on your and Peters intertwined hands. MJ squints, deep in thought, and Ned looks between the two of you quickly.

“Don’t tell me,” MJ eventually sighs, she's come to the conclusion after “close” inspection.

“We’re dating.” Peter confirms, anxiously looking at his two friends and then to you.

“We have been for a couple months now,” You add, “We’ve just been waiting for the right time to tell you.” You say stepping closer to Peter.

“WHAT?!?!” Ned screams. You flinch slightly, as does MJ and Peter. “And you didn’t think to tell your bestfriend?!” Ned lowers his voice when he notices all the eyes on him from people in the hallway. But the anger in his voice doesn’t waver.

“I-“ Petter stutters, not knowing what to say.

“How did it happen?” MJ asks, tapping her foot. She looks a little annoyed. Peter guesses, it's because Y/n hadn’t told her about their secret relationship. “Or what happened?”

“To sum it up real fast for everyone,” Y/n started, “And I can explain it better later, we started dating over summer break when we were at my dads beach house.” Ned and MJ look at you waiting for you to continue.

“We were alone, and I guess it provoked our confessions and, well here we are.” You say blankly, hoping for a good reaction.

“Why didn’t you tell me Peter? I'm your best friend.” Ned asks sadly.

“We just didn’t want to say anything because we were testing it out, in case it didn’t work, we didn’t want to break up the friend group. We wanted to be sure we were serious.” Peter quickly adds on quickly to try to explain the situation. Ned nods, understanding a bit more now.

“So, you too are serious?” MJ asks. You just shrug with a smile, and a smirk grows on her lips “I knew it. I knew something was going on-”

“What are you talking about?” You cut her off, your eyes wide and voice anxious. Peter notices for a second before Ned speaks up.

“Ohh,” Ned says in realization, “So, this is why you-“ Peter rips his hand from yours to cover Ned's mouth, not wanting him to say something embarrassing. Peter's eyes get big and he slowly shakes his head.

“I- Can we talk about this at our lockers please?” Peter asks nervously. Peter quickly nods to you and MJ before walking off.

You are too focused on MJ to see him walk off, but he does see your flustered face. He's too preoccupied to dwell on that right now.

“Oh my god, Ned no.” Peter scolds as they get to their lockers.

“What?” Ned asks, confused. “It's not like it's a secret now, you like her and she likes you.”

“Yeah but,” He pauses and sighs, twisting the lock on his locker. “You can’t tell her anything I’ve told you.”

“Why not? You're together now, what does it matter?” Peter's face flushes, “Ohh, you haven’t told her everything, have you?” Ned realizes.

Peter shakes his head confirming Ned's words.

“And I don’t need her to find them out. So please for my dignity and sanity don’t.” Peter pleads, finishing moving his books from his locker to his bag and vice-versa.

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” Ned nods, reluctantly understanding. Ned pauses, as Peter shuts his locker and turns to him.

“What?” Peter wonders aloud his eyebrows scrunched.

“I can’t even tell her how long you’ve been crushing? It's not like it matters or anything.” Ned begs with a whine, he wants to tell you so bad, it's so funny, and it was cute to see him so fond of you.

“No Ned, no.” Peter says seriously. Ned grumbles angrily, but eventually nods in agreement.

“Listen, she doesn’t even know about-“ Peter starts before leaning in to whisper to Ned, “Spiderman.” He leans back and continues to talk normally.

“So you can’t tell her anything. At all. I don’t need her freaking out.” Peter sighs, rubbing his temples. Ned nods again.

“Okay. I promise I won’t say anything.” Ned says a little disappointed.

“I'm being serious, Ned. You can’t say anything. Not about him, or about my-“ Peter pauses to blush.

“My crush,” utters quietly. “Nothing at all. I mean it.” Peter continues.

“I know.” Ned rolls his eyes, “My mouth is shut.” Peter nods thanking him. And they both just stand there for a second. After a minute Ned speaks up.

“I can still talk to her though, right?”

“What?” Peter asks, confused at the question.

“Like, Y/n, I mean. You and I are friends and I don’t want to cross any lines or anything.” Ned responds sheepishly.

“Oh my god,” Peter laughs, less anxious now, “Yeah, goodness. I'm not going to make you stop talking to her.”

“You guys are friends, and I'm not a crazy boyfriend.” Peter comments laughing again. Ned starts laughing with him. Peter smiles softly thinking about how much he liked to word boyfriend coming out of his mouth, it rolled off his tongue perfectly, he was a boyfriend. Not just that, he was your boyfriend.

“Right, just making sure.” Ned chuckles, pulling Peter from his thoughts, now feeling less stressed about the whole situation. “You never know.” Ned adds with a smile..

“I'm also sorry for not telling you sooner, Ned.” Peter quickly apologizes. “You are my best friend, so you should have known sooner, I just-“

“It's alright Peter. I get it. It's hard, at least I know now.” Ned responds.

“Plus, now you can tell me about all the stuff you two have been up to.” Ned smirks at Peter who is blushing profusely.

“Ned- we didn’t- I mean haven’t-“ Ned rolls his eyes with a smile.

“Sure you haven’t,” Ned chuckles, “I understand if you don’t feel uncomfortable with-“

“Ned! Oh my god, stop!” Peter stuffs his hands into his face embarrassed. And Ned just laughs as he drags Peter to their first period.

Peter wants to be present and happy with Ned, but he can’t get his mind off of you, and what you said. Or, what you said that he can’t remember. Why did you need to fake a relationship? What did he need to protect you from?

Tag List:

@riordanness

@princess-ofthe-pages

@sunnyx07

@hollandweather

#peter parker #x reader #peter parker x reader #mcu peter parker #mcu peter x reader #Spiderman #peter parker x you

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thelov3lybookworm · 1 month

Text

You Think I Wanted This? (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: The wedding day has arrived.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: Ehehe im so excited for yall to read this aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh

anyways, enjoy!

•○🌑○•

If there was one word that could describe the situation around the palace, it would be chaos. But ten times worse.

The time was flying by, and it was getting incredibly hard to keep herself from screaming in frustration. The anxiety building up in her, the worries... it was hard to focus on anything.

The wedding would take place today in the great hall in just a few hours, and Y/n could not stop the tremor in her hands.

The only thing that comforted Y/n was the fact that Cam was now present with her, in the Palace, having returned from Basgiath during the leave granted before his second year.

Due to being the son of the king, he had been granted some leniency so he could attend Y/n's wedding.

That, and the books Y/n was forced to read, being a healer.

All alone in her room now, all she could do was read through the boring texts again, because that was the only way she could stop thinking about the inevitable ruining of her life.

A knock startled Y/n, and she glanced at the small clock she kept on her desk, frowning when she realised there was still, at the very least, an hour until the maids came to get her ready.

Standing, she called out. "Yes?"

"May I come in?" The voice was unmistakably female, with the confidence of someone far older an experienced than the owner of the voice should have been.

Y/n walked over, opening the door a crack to find Violet Sorrengail waiting, her hair in a messy braid hanging over one shoulder.

Y/n blinked, then opened the door wider, letting her in.

"Sorrengail, what brings you here?"

Violet took a deep breath, letting the door fall shut behind her before speaking.

"Did you ask to be married to Xaden?"

Y/n blinked, taken aback. "Xaden? Why would I want to be married to him?"

Violet sighed, frustration evident in the dark circles under her eyes and the tension in her shoulders. Now that Y/n looked closely, she looked like she had not showered or had a meal in years.

"I- you were staring at him that day like- like you wanted him, and then right after the king announced your marriage and..." Violet took a deep breath, looking like she would have a panic attack any moment. And despite the fact that this girl was involved with Y/n's soon to be husband, that they had something going on, maybe even feelings involved, all Y/n felt was pity for her.

Y/n sympathised with the girl, but there was nothing Y/n could do to comfort her than give false words of hope.

"Look, Sorrengail, there is nothing I can do. I am sorry, I truly am, but I can't put a stop to this wedding, if that is what you are here for."

"But you didn't even try!"

Y/n crossed her arms, rubbing between her brows, realising Violet had been trying to hold in her emotions all along and she was not here for a friendly chat over tea.

"I know the consequences I would have had to bear for objecting, and the wedding would still have happened because no one goes against the king's words."

"You are his daughter! He would have-"

"And you are a grown woman, who, I hope, understands what consequences are. So I am not going to sit here and explain to you what would have happened if I'd done what I wanted to two hours before the betrothal takes place." Y/n glanced at the clock to make sure she had the right timing before turning towards the door, reaching out to clutch the handle.

"You didn't even try." All anger had dissipated from the rider's voice, and the tears in her eyes made her look like she was ready to fall to her knees and beg for Xaden to be freed.

Y/n clenched her eyes shut, knowing if she watched Violet cry, she would do end up doing something very stupid, and that something was definitely going to get her killed.

"I am sorry Violet, but there is nothing I can do other than to tell you to return, go to someplace that brings you peace, and stay away from the palace for atleast two days."

The fire of rage again lit up in Violet's eyes, and she stomped forward just as Y/n opened the door for her to leave.

"Fuck you." Violet cursed, and Y/n did not bat an eye at the words as she clicked the door shut behind her.

With a sigh, Y/n returned to her desk.

Not long after, someone again knocked on the doors, though this time it was the servants arriving to get Y/n dressed up all pretty for the ceremony.

Y/n let go of her textbook and let the attendants fuss over her, the mannerisms of a princess that had been drilled into her since she was born keeping her from complaining everytime they pulled her hair too harshly.

Kept her quiet even when the corset was too tight.

Kept her quiet even when all she wanted to do was cry and ask what the purpose of all this was.

•○🌑○•

Violet's pov.

The crowd was silent, watching the bride walk down the aisle who only had eyes for the groom. Some of the held appreciation for what the girl had managed to achieve, some held scorn in their hearts for her getting married to the son of a coward and betraying the kingdom.

Her eyes remained unwavering, her long hair running down her straight back, hands clutching at the small bouquet of flowers.

She was beautiful, Violet had to admit.

The groom too stared at the bride, his hands folded neatly behind his back, and though his expression remained neutral, his eyes spoke volumes about his happiness regarding this marriage.

At least the two of them knew nothing could come out of this marriage, and no one would be disappointed after the outcome turned out to be hatred.

The moment the bride took her position at the podium, the priest started speaking.

After long minutes of droning, the bald priest finally asked the question that the groom, bride and Violet all dreaded.

"Do you, Xaden Riorson, take Y/n Tauri, to be your wife?"

Violet's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the tense Lieutenant, who, if possible, tensed even more as he answered.

"I do."

"Do you, Xaden Riorson, swear to be loyal throughout this marriage to your wife?"

At that, Xaden jerked, his head turning a little towards where Violet was standing, but then he stopped himself and stared again at his to be wife.

"I do."

The princess blinked in confusion, and her eyes slowly swept the crowd as she searched for something.

Violet moved, trying to conceal herself behind the pillar she was standing next to.

Of course, the two girls met eyes before Violet could be successful.

Violet watched as exasperation and pity filled Y/n's eyes, and Violet lifted her chin in confidence she didn't feel.

"Do you, Y/n Tauri, take Xaden Riorson, to be your husband?"

Violet watched as the princess swallowed and spoke, no other sign of hesitation or anxiousness in sight. "I do."

"Do you, Y/n Tauri, swear to be loyal throughout this marriage to your husband?"

"I do."

The lack of hesitation almost made Violet feel bad, because the certainty that dripped from the princess's voice told Violet that even if Xaden continued to pursue Violet behind close doors, the princess would stay loyal to him.

Almost.

"I now pronounce you two married. You may kiss the bride."

Violet held Y/n's stare until Xaden was right in her face, and then she closed her eyes, and let him kiss her.

Violet turned away, walking out of the huge doors and making her way to the flight field near the palace.

She knew she should have heeded the princess's advice, but she couldn't stop herself from seeing him get married by her own eyes.

Even if the bride was not who Violet wished.

•○🌑○•

@artists-ally @riddlesb1tch

Xaden Taglist: @sidrapotter @anniiittttaa @pirana10 @harrystylesfan2686

#xaden x reader #xaden riorson #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #rebecca yarros #fourth wing headcanons #xaden headcanon #fourth wing fanfic

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yahoodarling · 3 months

Text

Ayato/Thoma x SelfAware Gn Reader part 1 6.5k words

General warnings (not all themes are present in this post): yandere themes, mentions of suicide(in theory and enacted) and major spoilers for Inazumas quest line including character stories.

Author note here: I understand the narrative style of this fic is going to be a little bit different than usual. This fic highlights a lot of internal thoughts and justifications so the description of things isn't as ‘fluid’ as normal. I hope you enjoy it anyway. I want to post this as a ‘teaser’ of sorts but mainly to see how it gets received. The next update would be the completed fic. I see it potentially reaching 17/20k words but if people don't like the style then i'll just have to see.

It's disgusting. It is discomfort incarnate to have such foresight into the fate of the world and yet be bound to its own laws of destiny, especially when what you were sure was to take place is altered. You no longer have any ground of understanding except the uncanny feeling that things are not as they should be, to be so similar and yet be so changed. You knew things will end up alright, as long as you do not interfere then Inazumas political warfare will reach a peaceful end and it did. You watched, noted those ‘special’ to the world, those who have a story, a life, a reason and you took the responsibility of not getting involved and it worked. You became an npc, avoided any confrontation with those deemed ‘special’, avoided any influence in the ‘plot’, watched as a hero came, a nation saved and a people newly united. It worked. Your foresight was correct yet… things changed. With no base to rely on, how were you to know what the ‘future’ must be, how were you to know what to avoid, who to avoid and what minor choice may change a future?

The hero has left, gone to Sumeru you guess, no, you know, you know the hero leaves for a new nation but so has your foresight and with that comes the change.

The one day gathering supplies, one day speaking to a fellow npc to fill some sort of social need, one day being in the ‘dark’ and you've caused a spark.

“Oh Aoi, good morning to you!”

He didn't speak to you, it was directed to the npc shopkeep you were chatting with and yet it grabbed your attention. Thoma is ‘special’, Thoma is relevant and so he must be avoided and you failed.

Thoma spoke of how lovely the nights have been, of the soft whistles of sea, even to npcs Thoma was a gentleman starting conversation. He then noted how ‘unique’ your eyes are, a depth to them hes never seen before. That comment frightened you, made you rush to leave, to stop the change. Quickly you felt a hand on your shoulder,

“Please excuse my rudeness but how about we have a stroll? I know its unfair of me to ask a stranger such a thing but… you remind me of a home away from home, if you would grant me such a pleasure that is.” he ended with a chuckle.

You have been so realistic up to this point, so good at avoiding ‘change’ but you have a heart and knew all too well that whatever feeling Thoma is experiencing is something important to him. You have a heart and so you accept.

A single light hearted stroll became a weekly meet at the shop front, ‘coincidentally’, which became a personal relationship which became a friend. It's alright though, Thomas is a social guy, he's close with many npcs who never impacted the ‘plot’, you can be one such npc, that's fine. Change is fine.

It's not fine. Meeting with Thoma you eventually met with other ‘special’ individuals you knew by name before they even knew of your existence. It's a weird feeling to know a person before getting to meet them, all the private details, their worries, their joys and yet to remain oblivious.

“A formal greeting from the Kamisato Clan, I am glad to see Thoma has a new friend. Do treat him well, sadly I must make short of this meet.” and the man who is most likely the most influential to whatever ‘plot’ is to come of Inazuma greeted. Kamisato Ayato was amongst your top ‘DO NOT ENGAGE’ list other than the archon herself and yet somehow naive bliss and a VERY convincing plea(almost suspiciously good) from Thoma to have lunch by the beaches near the residence of the Kamisato Clan lead you right into his ‘life’.

You have no ‘life’, you are meant to have no ‘life’, no value or effect and yet by each interaction with those deemed ‘special’ by the world your plans crumble.

Ayato then promptly bowed and walked out the residents gate, a body guard joining him as he started his track along the path you had just taken towards the city.

“ah right, he has that meeting. A pity, if his schedule was more open id have asked for him to join us.” Thoma turned to you with a quick hesitant smile, “he's really not as imposing as you may think he is. ah well… maybe he still is but just in a different way then what the people expect. If you'd like, maybe I could let you know when my lord and I are doing something casual, if you would be comfortable with that of course. I forget just how intimidating the idea of being casual with a clan lord can be to someone who doesn't know him as well as I do.”

“Thank you for the offer Thoma but i'd like it if we just kept it the two of us. You are right, the idea is a little frightening right now.”

You knew what Thoma meant by all that, he means that Ayato is a genuine person underneath his political mask. Ayato is a brother, a friend and a man caring for those deemed under his protection and to those lucky enough to see under his mask they may be met with the unlucky fate of becoming a target to his mischievous nature.

Still, the idea of getting involved with someone so influential is nauseating even if just for something ‘casual' as Thoma has in mind. In truth you shouldn't even be here, here near the Kamisato Clan, here near someone like Thoma, here in Teyvat in the first place. You shouldn't be here.

“I see, that's expected haha.” Thoma smiled at you wildly, reaffirmed at the idea of something going on in his mind (if only knowing what said idea was was as easy as opening a character profile and reading a line directly out of his thoughts) “Well we are still here for a good time. Let me get that blanket and pillows for the beach quickly. You are going to love it!” Thoma quickly skipped into the yard of the clans walls while you waited outside and watched as the npcs you recognized pattered around the area.

That one person at the commission board, you had forgotten his name by now after fulfilling Inazumas reputation months ago. There was the old lady sweeping in the yard, what did she comment on again? … … it never came to you, it was all forgetful anyway.

A sudden feeling of envy hit you. They were forgetful, oh how lovely that would be to ease your nerves. To know that each day the sun rises you can follow your coded script without fear of altering the fate of the very universe by the time the sun goes down. Wow, you've messed up haha.

Thoma returned quickly as promised, a blanket and two pillows clutched under one arm as a basket was held in another but probably most heavy of all was the giant smile on his face, wrinkling his cheeks with a sense of genuine happiness. No wonder you messed up, it would be impossible to say no to him. It's all his fault and yet you felt you could never put the blame on him.

“Well, sorry to have starved you of your lunch for so long, we are nearly there and I can't wait to see your reaction.” Thoma then lead you through a short path of the surrounding forest and down towards the beach.

Perhaps your recollection of the game isn't accurate, you could have sworn a group of enemies should be nearby the beach here but all along the coast line was just gentle laps of the waves apon white sand. Thoma layed out the blanket with little worries evident on his face, he placed both pillows down then removed his shoes, each unclad foot stepping on the blanket to avoid spreading sand all over it, you promptly did the same, sitting down and placing the basket you had down next to his.

“This place is lovely at any time of the day but especially during sunset, I would have asked for you to join then but I feared it would make things inconvenient for you but still, spending the afternoon here is just lovely nonetheless.” he criss crossed his legs and then beamed at you.

“Come on then, don't keep me waiting, i'm dying to try out one of your baked goods.”

Right. One of the first things you did when you realized you were now living in the game was (panic, cry, internally scream in confusion as to how this has happened and if your world will keep on going and you aren't in it) actually to set up an identity for yourself. Running around and claiming to have come from another world and how you somehow know very personal details of select people and the future fate of the nation would lead to either your banishment or a future altered and possibly worse where peace was not founded, the resistance killed off and the entire plot of the ‘game’ thrown off. Not a good idea. Instead you tried to incorporate yourself into the ‘npc lifestyle’ as quickly as possible. You came up with a backstory that befit this world, you are a failed Sumeru scholar who has come to Inazuma to lead a new simple life outside of your failures. (In truth you stole inspiration for the backstory from some npc you think was on Sangonomiya Island.) It makes sense, people you tell won't ask you more about your past details in fear of being insensitive and Sumeru scholars are sometimes brought to Inazuma. You explained your (fake) predicament to a shop vendor who referenced you to the local baker who took you on. Now you bake goods behind the walls, don't face any customers and have a very npc-like backstory and job. You set yourself up well which was helped by all the knowledge you have of this world. Too bad you messed up all that work and are sat in front of someone ‘special’. Maybe you can salvage the situation, maybe it's not as bad as you think it is, you only have ‘maybes’ which isn't helpful since you had a ‘definitely’ to rely on before Inazumas ‘quest’ was finished by the hero.

You just smile at Thoma and reach your basket. “I made some simple bread rolls and brought some butter and jam but I also made some black sesame biscuits before leaving work. Thanks again for convincing my boss to let me off early today, things get busy there.”

“Not a problem, I don't often take days off either but I think I just needed a break today and imagined it would be a nice chance to get to know you more. How about you pass me one of your rolls in exchange for a serving of okonomiyaki? Sorry it's probably cold by now but should still be good.” He reached into his basket taking out some wooden containers as well as some cloths, likely for cleaning any spillages, and handed you one with you exchanging and giving him a roll and butter from your pack.

You both nibbled at each other's creations, the bread rolls were still slightly warm on the inside since you had baked them before leaving, which Thoma commented on how lovely it is with the butter. The okonomiyaki you took pieces out of was cold but packed with various spices and toppings which really highlighted Thomas skills.

“I just love that we can do this!” Thoma announced after his last bite. “I love getting to make and share things with friends, it's touching the combined effort put into it as well as the delicious outcome we get to enjoy. Haha, my lord and I do a similar thing but its outcome is not as enjoyable as warmed bread and butter, if anything it's concerning haha. Remember how earlier I said how he can be a little intimidating, our little cook outs are one such example. I really have to steel myself for those.” he chuckled and then leaned down on his elbows.

Once again, what he's trying to explain is something you already know of but need to act oblivious to. You have to convince yourself to be unaware and yet need to be aware enough to avoid ‘changing’ anything, this task has grown rather wearing but is essential to keep up your act.

“Oh? How could cooking together turn out so threatening? You two are close though.”

He laughed

“It's because we are close that he feels he can torment me with his cooking. I swear, i'm surprised i haven't kneeled over and died yet. Worst part is he knows its tomenting, it's the best part to him! Agh- i've had so many of my own treats i've made be ruined by whatever his plan is. Haha, its amusing to look back on but just so daunting in the moment. When I said we could do something ‘casual’ with him I do not mean having one of these cook outs haha, I could never subject you to that.”

The nature of the conversation stayed light hearted, you both exchanging from your baskets while sharing stories or light hearted moments, you had altered your side of things a little, you spoke truth of personal events but under the filter to fit with your backstory, that way lies couldn't catch up with you or forgetting lots of little made up details. The outing was rather pressuring in concept, so much could go wrong since you are involved, but in reality it was very nice. You had kept yourself back a lot when it comes to building relationships with the people around you in fear of your influence potentially changing something important but you are still human and still have social needs but even people like your boss, coworkers and the shop vendors you chat with in passing never fit what it meant to have a friend, to have someone to sit next to and simply have a good time with.

Maybe you've been in this world for too long, you fear you may slip into making a ‘normal’ life here now that you've had a taste of what it means to ‘live’.

The sun started moving, waves became more rash upon the shore and the signs of the afternoon turning to evening became evident. You started packing up your basket and containers, lightly chatting on with Thoma about the seaside. To the side you heard footsteps and Thoma sat himself up straight to look at the oncomer.

“Oh! Done with the meeting my lord?”

Your hand slipped in fright, the container lid clattering as you tried to put it with its matching box. Shit, why is he here? Shouldn't Ayato be too busy? Isn't that one of his whole character points? Not once was ‘strolls on the beach’ mentioned in any of his character lines. You looked up and smiled at him in greeting, your face tugged up tensely and trying very hard to look at ease. You decided it would be easier to let Thoma handle him and just got back to packing your things away.

“Good evening to you too,” he chuckled softly and shifted his gloves, “the meet is done without any problems. When I got back home I wondered if you were still out here, seems I was right. I can now also fix a prominent mistake of mine.”

Even though you tried your hardest to avoid eye contact and look busy it's not like you had mountains to put away, you were left empty handed with a pair of well polished shoes in front of you, their sheen contrasted with the speaks of sand now defiling them. You took a breath in and looked up properly to meet his gaze.

“I do apologize for being so rash earlier, I would have liked a proper introduction. As you can surmise i am Ayato, Thoma has mentioned of you before and I am glad to have the honor of meeting you in person.” he smiled in greeting, no doubt he would have offered a hand or a bow if you both were at the same height but for now a smile would do.

“Right, it is truly an honour Lord Ayato. Thank you for extending your welcome to me.” you bowed slightly.

He laughed slightly, deeply amused.

“Do just call me Ayato in private like this and last I recall, yes my property is in the area but that doesn't warrant me the entire beach side. In truth I have not welcomed you at all.”

Thoma sighed slightly, “My lord please don't tease them so readily, I would like to eventually re invite them here but I can't do that if you've scared them away.”

“Of course, maybe then I can truly offer my welcome and they may join us to tea in the confines of the clan.”

Thoma sighed again at the slight continuation of Ayato's mischief. You took the opportunity of their exchange as an opening and stood up.

“Thank you for the food today Thoma and for bringing me to such a lovely place. I'll get going before it gets too late.”

“Oh, let me walk you back then.”

You shook your head in defiance, “No need, I know the way and it doesn't make sense for you to walk all the way just to have to return. Bringing me here was amazing in itself.”

You turned to Ayato and bowed again, less in respect and more so to keep away from eye contact.

“Thank you again Lord Ayato. Stay well.” and quickly you make your way off the sands of the beach and towards the trek back home into the outer city.

Thoma and Ayato stayed still, simply watching you go in silence until you were out of eyesight. It was Ayato that broke the silence.

“You are sure they do not carry any ill intent?” he said monotonously, still looking at the spot you disappeared to.

“I am sure. They are a decent person and I double checked, they don't have a past linked to any organization. Sure they are rather anxious, I see it often, a little skittish at times and slightly paranoid but it's not at the prospect of the clan. Haha, if you've taught me anything it's to be aware of people's intentions, if anything they are trying to run away rather than to get close. I can assure you, they don't have an agenda against the clan.”

Ayato breathed out, then turned himself to properly look at Thoma, his face relieved. “If that's your judgment it must be true then.”

…

An odd moment of silence spread between the two of them on the beach, both looking out as the sky took on warmer hues of yellow and orange clashing with its deeper blues.

“You've been coming here a lot more recently and to have invited a friend here as well, has your mind been on your homeland?”

Thoma chuckled and leaned back out on the blanket, now dusted with sand and corners crinkled after the day's events, “I have. Thinking about the mountains of Mondstadt and all the memories just out there across the ocean. It's not in a sad sense, not at all, it's just that recently-,” he paused, looking away from the ocean and down to his lap, slightly gnawing on his lip in thought, “recently i've felt more… connected with myself. It's a nice feeling if not slightly concerning. I feel i'm getting to know myself better but it also just clearly shows how much i have yet to discover.” He sighed, closed his eyes and fully laid down on his back.

Ayato looked down on his friend, doing as he does best and figuring out just what was going on in his mind, his feelings, the reasons for such feelings and the potential catalysts that brought them about. He kneeled down onto the blanket beside his friend, form straight from a lifetime of practice.

“Does your new friend have anything to do with it?” he asks only to be met with silence, Ayato doesn't need an answer, he already knows it's true but just why that is so is still unknown.

“It isn't that you have fallen for them have you? I didn't think of you as one for love to occur after a reasonably short time.”

Thoma opened his eyes languidly and responded this time.

“I don't think it is love. Not yet but… i'd say i've definitely fallen for them haha, in whatever way that is i'm not sure but it feels… unbridled in nature.” he closed his eyes once more and shook his head at his own emotions. He tugged on a smile and relieved himself of his weighing thoughts, “So i'd appreciate it if you don't chase them away okay? I look forward to figuring out what's going on with both myself and with them.”

Ayato nodded wordlessly, not needing to disturb the quiet with a response.

…

“Ayato, did you notice the look in their eyes? It truly just- it just instantly made me feel like i was reliving my home town but also… not. It was familiar but also so foreign.”

“I hadn't gotten a good look at them in truth. They seemed rather determined in keeping their eyesight on anything but me.”

Thoma nodded in acknowledgement, “Makes sense. I do hope they warm up to the idea of the three of us doing something together eventually. Haha, once they've settled their nerves they are very comforting to talk with, I think you'd like them.”

Comfortable silence stretched along the two, the shades of yellow and orange in the sky deepening to reds and purples.

In time Ayato stood up, no doubt with the intent of work to finish. He turned to leave before side glancing at Thoma.

“The nobushi that often occupy these beaches, you've disposed of them correct?”

“Did it just this morning to make sure the beach was safe for today as well as to clear out the threat they bring.”

Ayato sighed in annoyance.

“I still can't understand how those ruffians believe they outwit us, thinking being close to the clan means they may spot our vulnerabilities.” he shook his head slightly, like the ‘danger’ the oathless samurai possessed was nothing but a pesky fly.

He then made his way back to the clan home leaving Thoma to steep in his own thoughts.

It was after this interaction that you decided to cut things down. At first you imagined Thoma to be the safest ‘special’ person to come across, given how social he is and loved by many you could become a face in the crowd while also tending to your social needs and appeasing Thoma who, and you still wonder why, wanted to get closer to you. Following the path you've taken recently, of course you were wrong, infact Thoma should have been on that list of ‘DO NOT ENGAGE’ for the very reason you thought it was safe to, he's social. Very quickly you had realized in your time meeting with him that he would smile and wave to many walking by, one such instance was panic inducing when you noticed Yoimiya come over to greet him. Before she had fully skipped up to the both of you you had promptly dismissed yourself and ran back to the confines of your walls to avoid meeting someone so ‘special’.

This was Thomas' problem, he is the network that is connected to so many ‘characters’ that by staying by his side means undoubtedly meeting with the others. Today's incident was clearly that, you met Ayato, you were right there at the clan bordering the line of stepping into the grounds of one of the most impactful places of Inazuma and it was Thoma that had convinced you to do so. You had been too lenient on your rules recently, too selfish. You don't follow these rules you've written up for yourself because you want to but because you know it's for the better of the future and altering such a future because you can't stay inline is selfish to every being in Teyvat that could possibly be influenced by your choices.

To live means to influence your environment, to live means to leave an impression that proves your existence. You wish for nothing right now other than to ‘die’, be void of life and find comfort in that, to finally release the stress of what it means to have all this information of the world and not belong in it but you are still human, you have needs to fulfill and ‘dying’ is not one of them.

It was time to cut Thoma off, it hurt because you knew it would hurt him but it would be better this way. That night you closed your eyes to rest, determined on your new path but gut wrenching in a myriad of emotions, fear, pressure, uncertainty, sadness. You haven't slept well ever since coming to this world and that night was no different. You fell asleep cursing the ground you walk on, cursing the details that swamped your mind, cursing your very existence and the trouble it causes to both this world and yourself.

Seperating yourself from Thoma was simple, firstly you changed your shopping time, no longer ‘coincidentally’ meeting with him like you had these last few weeks. Secondly, you asked your boss for more work, that way you have an excuse. You aren't a ‘bad guy’ for just leaving Thoma, no its because work has been busy and you just don't have the time. This system worked, you hadn't stumbled on him while in the city and the few times he did come to your workplace you simply told him that you were busy and needed to get back to work. This system went on for weeks and was perfect for devoiding your existence of ‘live’, which yes was depressive, you could feel yourself go mad at the amount of work you put on yourself and lack of outlet, but it worked. The extra work did help with the issue of mora as well (the value of mora being confusing ingame where how a single egg was 400 mora and yet 1 mora is represented as a single coin but you realized quickly it was just the ingame market system) which lightened the financial strain a little. You worked from early mornings to late nights, arms dead by the end of the day. In truth you know it isn't a healthy cycle, often coming home and skipping meals just to bathe and sleep, but it was necessary.

Inazumas rains soaked the land, luckily no thunder was present but the trek from the city to nearby village was still made difficult in the wet weather. Your eyes focusing and unfocusing, legs on autodrive walking you towards a particular customer of your workplace who the boss is very fond of. The old lady you were delivering to had been coming to the bakery for years but in her age can no longer make the walk to the city. Your boss found it mandatory to provide for such a loyal customer and so your weekly walk to deliver her breads was on the way.

In the rain was silence, just the sound of your wet shoes on the mud and the rhythmic clank of the wooden box you carried and its latch. The world began to blur, shapes and colours combining as the rain obscure your vision and the melody of your steps, the rain's patter and the wooden latch soothed your mind. Peaceful, a sleepwalk yet not unconscious.

Peace is never retained.

“Look, a stray lamb. Ha! The rain brings fortune indeed.” a swallowed out voice but a few steps away from you got you out of your daze. A wandering samurai, perhaps 3 all together, walked from the side of the path towards you from the river. If this had been ingame the confrontation would be nothing more but an annoyance, 4 ‘characters’ to choose from to easily snuff them out or the option to just run away until they gave up chase. In reality this confrontation means little less than a deathly denouement. Heavily armed, well trained men with seemingly no morals and a thirst for sick entertainment against a human bering no vision, a basket of bread and a fatigued body leaves little wonder as to how this will end. Panic arose at the realization, the very human phenomenon of ‘fight or flight’ kicking in, and as a baby bird strives to the air you push off your feet, adrenaline quickly awakening your senses and urged your body to a change of direction and just as a fledgling's first flight you fall. Hard. Your mind may have awoken but your body had not caught the message, instead you lay your head in the dirt, all motive diminished, just your sad existence lay bare for a bunch of hostile mobs, stupid coding of copy paste enemies, to take your life. In all honesty this is perfect, you wish to retain as accurate to an npc life as possible? What better way than to die a meaningless death. That brought enough comfort to you to allow yourself to close your eyes (disregarding the other factors such as shock, exhaustion and most likely a concussion from the fall)

Perhaps a few of your questions will be answered now, if you die here will you reawaken into your own world? Will the months of lifetime in this fictitious game be nothing but a dream or will you truly die and merely sink into the mud as nothing more than a mistake upon this world? Neither as it seems the feeling of the rain pelting on your body ended, the sounds of swords being drawn and clashing washed away and your head, though still paining, layed on something far more welcoming than wet earth.

“Are you regaining consciousness then?” you feel hands lean your body up, a hand moving you face side to side prompting your eyes to open. They are met with the analytically eyes of Ayato still looking over your features for whatever wear and tear you may have gathered.

“To have fallen so gracefully in such a life threatening moment, truly your abilities are unmatched to any I have seen before. I am surprised you garner such mud and bruising, I had expected you to be dressed in only the most comfortable of clothing by the way you so effortlessly went to rest.” Oh for fucks sake-

You properly awaken, now relying on your own balance to stay sitting upright and Ayato moving his hands away only to have his eyes peering closer to you. You swipe at your face, lumps of mud clinging to your hand in turn. You heave a sigh just to gather yourself for a moment before speaking.

“What happened? Why would you be here if it means I'm not dead? Ah- sorry,” you jumped into accusations before even giving thanks, not suspicious in the slightest, “my head is still sore. Sorry, I must thank you for rescuing me, I would be dead if not for you.”

Ayato hummed and nodded his head. “To answer your question, I was on my way to the city before the rain started, not wanting to get wet I waited here under this shelter until I saw you stumble right into that group of noboshira and now we are sat here. As for your apology, it's accepted, you are welcome.”

Why was he acting like this? Mischievous sure but with a slight hint of pride or cockiness in vulgar terms. Sure he's a noble but usually he adores the ‘polite lord’ act rather than ‘cocky aristocrat’. His attitude reminded you of how he interacts with those he deems ‘close’ rather than a stranger he's met only once. Yes you are close with Thoma which may influence how he sees you but surely not to the extent of you two being ‘close’ in turn.

And still you must play the fool, be gracious and oblivious like you could never tell between his mask and his true face.

“Thank you so much Lord Ayato, truly you've saved my life.”

You stand to bow, to leave but he holds your wrist at the movement.

“Do not move so hastily now, the rain is still ongoing and I would not like to see a recurrence of you laying in the mud, no matter how amusing the first time may have been. Do sit back down.”

No denying that, no matter how much you wanted to make distance between the two of you, trying to run away would only cause more problems. You sit back down on the bench, a rickety structure just outside the village with hardly enough space for two.

You look to the ground at your feet, watching as rain drops just a few inches away. Ayato sighs, made clear you have no intent of starting a conversation. Perhaps his political side kicks back in, going blunt and straight to the point.

“You have been avoiding Thoma these last weeks, he's become distressed at the idea he's done something wrong.” you do not reply.

“Is it because of my involvement? I understand you may be pressured by our difference in class but both Thoma and I have made it clear that should not be a problem when in private so why is it you fear me? I have seen those intimidated by my title but your anxiety runs deeper than that. I personally don't care as much but if it distracts your relation with Thoma then I suggest it should be dealt with.”

This questioning is unnerving, it is tearing right to the point where the only truth is to reveal the true origin of your situation. That cannot happen so you reply with what you usually do, not exactly a lie but a truth wrapped along with missing context.

You fake a sigh, “My Lord I am… I am an introverted person by nature. When Thoma approached me I- I accepted his conversations not to be rude and i do genuinely enjoy being with him but i- he's a social person, I knew he was and it was uncomfortable for me to get involved but I tried it's just the moment I met with someone such as yourself, someone so… powerful I realized just how large his social circle is. I can't keep it up, being with him means being with others and I cant handle that.” it was the truth, yes you played it up a bit but hopefully it's an explanation Ayato would accept.

“So you do not consider your friendship special enough to warrant such efforts?”

“No!” you lift your head to him, for once properly looking at him, “It is, he is special, he is special beyond your understanding it's just that… I don't fit in, I don't belong by his side and meeting you and others just proves that.”

Ayato looked at you for a moment, seemingly lost in your words, perhaps not understanding the phrasing you used but he quickly morphed back into his usual laid back but self assured look.

“Was that your decision to make?” He let out a soft huff of air and looked forward to the oncoming rain. Why did he wish to avoid the rain? Given his character trailer where he casually accepts it, his skills being water based and summoning quite literal rain not to mention the casual manner his attacks have him kneeling right into it, how could he act so off put by walking along when the storm was hardly harsh, a summer spray in truth, you wouldn't have accepted going on this delivery if the weather was any worse.

“It's comforting. Something I can appreciate both from a distance and up close. Water has a tendency of being both stubborn and flexible, it moves as it wishes and chips away at that it deems in its way. When in motion it is hard to stop, when stagnate it proves hard to move.”

Ayato turned back to you, eyes alight with something more than just his blue hues, they appeared with a sheen, not from the gloss of tears but of something you couldn't exactly tell what it embodied. Without a character profile to read it actually is very hard to tell what goes on in his mind.

“Such waters remind me of you. So stubborn in some label you've put yourself under and yet so quick to wash away when it is threatened. You call such a label as being ‘introverted’ but I imagine it's something more isn't it? Perhaps it is insensitive of me to get into, from Thoma I hear you've had an unfortunate past in your time as a scholar and the depths of your reason may lay there but if you truly wish to integrate into a life in Inazuma then avoiding the people you come across, myself and especially Thoma, all under the pretext of being ‘introverted’, then you will find your burdens much heavier.”

In a very storylike fashion the rains seemed to ease, droplets turning to drizzle. Ayato stood up and readjusted his coat cuffs, “At the very least explain to Thoma your reasons, I did not exaggerate when I said he has become distraught.”

You stood in turn, head buzzing but no longer in the previous pain. You nodded to Ayato, your anxieties haven't shown any actual proof and yet you hurt someone who has shown nothing but kindness and acceptance to you, it is wrong.

“I will, you are right.”

Ayato offered his hand to you for a hand shake, both as an untold promise to explain yourself to Thoma and as a simple goodbye gesture, you shook it with a strong resolve.

“I look forward to hearing more about you in the future. Do keep yourself well and avoid potential naps in the mud, it's not the most comfortable of places.” he smiled at you with a cheeky glint of amusement before turning his back and walking to the direction of the city.

You sat back down on the bench, intent on waiting out the remaining drizzle, and leaned against its wooden pillars. It's all so conflicting, when you try to do right for this world you hurt and confuse those around you, if you try to appease the people around you you risk threatening their future. You bare a cursed mind of information, a cursed existence upon this plane, it isn't right to affect others by the curse you bare but it also isn't right to devoid someone so giving as Thoma. You sit and contemplate until the drizzle gives way, your carry box placed by your feet filled with breads untouched by dirt and still awaiting their destination.

Ayato strolls along the path to the city, it is not his usual reasoning for taking the trip but still a reason worth doing so. Along his path all threats had been eliminated, you should arrive just fine but it wasn't that which plagued his mind, rather it was a soft sense of amusement, a sense of glee that left him softly chuckling to himself. He adjusted the cuffs of his gloves, a sign to his Shuumatsuban in hiding that they are to leave him for a moment, once the soft shuffling of unseen ninja pass he turns is view to your direction, the distance hindering the sight, he needed a moment to himself, to gather all possible elements at play to give reason to his unspoken questions.

“As expected, Thoma was right, they do hold some degree of depth.”.

#yahooworks #yandere ayato x reader #yandere thoma x reader #genshin impact ayato #genshin impact thoma #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #yandere male #x gn reader

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miracleonice87 · 9 months

Text

something in the way she moves

with Jack Hughes

for the summer fic exchange 2k23

a/n: I’ve been in my Taylor Swift and Jack Hughes era all summer, so what better way to write my exchange fic for @wyattjohnston than to combine those two subjects into one project for her? this one was originally inspired by “Question…?” and ended up tying together several Taylor songs all at once – check out the companion playlist for all of those and more songs that inspired the fic! also, shoutout to Brady and Emma’s wedding for providing the perfect backdrop for this story after I stalled out with ideas for the perfect present-day setting. lots of special guests appear in this one! finally, some people might hate the flashback format with all the jumping around, but I’ve been watching a lot of “The Summer I Turned Pretty” so you can thank the show for that! hope everyone enjoys… but especially @wyattjohnston. this one’s for you, my friend! endless thanks to you for putting on this wonderful exchange for us all, and for inviting me to be part of it. (and thanks to the lovely @laurenairay for the assist!)

tropes: whirlwind romance, exes to lovers, fluff, angst

warnings: swearing, alcohol, mention of breakup, arguing / conflict, sexual references but nothing graphic or detailed, quinn and luke and brady and matthew being pests, miles wood being a drunken hooligan lolol

word count: ~8,500+ (hey who knew I still knew how to write long fic)

_____

July 21, 2023 – present day – Brady and Emma Tkachuk’s wedding – Peapack-Gladstone, New Jersey…

“Can I ask you a question?”

Jack tucked his chin to his chest, busying himself with studying the pattern of the brick patio beneath his smart white sneakers. Whatever question Francesca had in mind, he was absolutely sure he was unprepared for it. But he nodded anyway.

Fran stared at his profile as he shuffled his feet beneath him, but as he lifted his head to look at her, she looked away, unable to meet his eyes as she forged ahead. Her gaze settled across the horizon instead, the moonlight casting a glow across the rolling green hills of Natirar.

She sighed, then bit the bullet. “Does it feel like everything’s just like… second best now?” she inquired listlessly.

Jack chuckled sadly, fiddling nervously with the neck of his amber beer bottle. Anybody who knew Jack knew he was never nervous. Except for where Fran was involved. She was the only person who had ever been able to do anything remotely resembling rattling him.

“What, after that meteor strike?” he asked sarcastically.

That’s what it felt like, at least – that night two years ago, when his team was out celebrating the end of their abysmal season before separating for the summer, the very same night her roommates had dragged her kicking and screaming from Fordham’s campus, across the Hudson, to see some indie band for one last hurrah before they went their own respective ways until fall semester, and Jack and Fran found themselves in the same crowded Hoboken bar. It felt like a meteor had crashed directly in his path that May night and blown up his entire life as he had known it.

He nodded wearily before answering his now ex-girlfriend’s, as well as his own rhetorical, question.

“Yeah, Fran. Yeah… it definitely does.”

Because second best was all that anything could have ever been, following the sensational rise and the staggering fall of Jack Hughes and Francesca DeLuca.

He’d never forget the very moment he first laid eyes on her…

___

May 1, 2021 – two years earlier…

From Jack’s perch at the bar next to Nico, nursing a Moscow mule, the girl in the pale yellow halter dress was impossible to miss.

He’d never believed in love at first sight, but as he surveyed the way that dress hugged her curves as she danced with her girlfriends, belting out the lyrics to “Peaches” to Justin Bieber, he thought for the first time that he might be completely wrong about that notion. He watched her hips sway enticingly, her olive-toned skin glowing beneath the bright multicolored lights, dark curls bouncing along with her every step.

Before he knew it, his feet were taking steps of their own, ditching Nico mid-sentence as the young captain stood dumbfounded, arms flung out to his sides in annoyance as Jack sauntered away. As he watched Jack approach a circle of dancing young women, he zeroed in on the one in the yellow dress right away, knowing immediately that she was the reason for the abrupt end to his conversation with his teammate. As he saw Jack approach her, Nico could only smile and roll his eyes as he wandered off to find the rest of the Devils crew, assuming they’d lost #86 to the girl in the yellow dress for the rest of the evening.

Meanwhile, for once, Jack didn’t have a plan, no course of action – didn’t have a pick-up line prepared, didn’t have anything clever in mind to say when he reached the girl in the yellow dress. When he finally did, she had her back to him, and it was only thanks to her perceptive friend, who pressed her lips into a straight line and tapped the woman on the shoulder, pointing to where he stood, that she even turned around and noticed Jack over her shoulder.

And when she finally did lay eyes on him… well, she was as sunk as he was.

Nothing was said between the two for a few moments, only bashful smiles exchanged. The girl took a few steps toward him, and he eventually found the wherewithal to open his mouth, praying that whatever was about to tumble from his lips wouldn’t make him look like a complete idiot.

“Hi… I like your dress.”

Okay, could’ve been better, could’ve been worse.

The girl’s lips spread into a grin, one that made Jack’s stomach flip over itself.

“Thanks,” she said, glancing down to what she was wearing as if she herself had forgotten. Then her eyes scanned his outfit. “I, uh, I like yours, too.”

A giggle escaped Jack before he could stop it, and instead of making things awkward, it seemed to endear the girl to him further.

“Thanks,” he muttered. And then no other words came to mind.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he berated himself. Say something else, you jackass.

Thankfully, the girl saved them both from complete and total disaster and rescued Jack from himself.

“I’m Francesca,” she said, raising her voice above the thumping music which seemed to get louder with every passing moment. “But everyone calls me Fran.”

Jack extended a hand for a gentlemanly shake, making Fran smile as she grasped it in hers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Fran,” he said, ducking his head close to her ear so that he, too, could be heard above the music… and maybe because it provided the perfect opportunity to be closer to her. “I’m Jack. And everyone calls me Jack.”

That earned a full-on chuckle from Fran which warmed Jack from the inside out. He watched her, grinning from ear to ear, amused by her amusement and encouraged by the fact that him introducing himself hadn’t seemed to spark any instances of the often inescapable “don’t I know you from somewhere?” or “you look so familiar” or, worse, “you play hockey, right?” He could be jinxing it, or she could just have a really impressive poker face, but it seemed that Fran truly had no earthly idea what he did for a living… and that delighted him to no end.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Jack,” she replied, still allowing her hand to be enveloped by his. “Are you from around here?”

Jackpot.

He fidgeted with the cocktail glass in his hand, making the melting ice cubes clink against the side. “Ah, kind of a long story,” he admitted truthfully with a smirk.

She glanced at her wrist as if checking her watch, though there was no timepiece to be seen.

“Well, I’ve got time,” she retorted playfully. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Jack shook his head emphatically. “Absolutely not, but I’ll buy you one and tell you all about it,” he said, nodding in the direction of the bar. “After you.”

Fran eagerly took the lead, heading straight for the bar as he followed close behind. Once they reached the counter, she rested her elbows on its edge and waited patiently for the bartender to take the orders of the other patrons who had been waiting far longer than the two of them.

But as Jack sidled up to her, resting one arm dangerously, though comfortably, close to hers against the cool aluminum bartop, his chest pressed just close enough to her back to be noteworthy but not overbearing, she noticed that the bartender’s eyes flickered toward him immediately, an immediate smile crossing the woman’s face. Francesca was even more confused, and admittedly disheartened, when the bartender ditched the entire far side of the bar in favor of beelining it toward Jack.

“What can I get you, sweet cheeks?” the bartender said in a syrupy cadence, leaning over the counter as if to make sure Jack noticed her sizable chest on display in her black sports bra.

Blegh, Fran thought. Maybe this guy isn’t such a good idea…

Unfazed, he asked, “Hey, can I please get another vodka cran and then…” Jack motioned to Fran.

“Uh, Bud Light, please?” she ordered, repeating the same go-to drink she’d already had half a dozen of.

Jack pursed his lips to attempt to avoid a full-blown grin. He couldn’t help but love a girl who loved her beer.

The bartender nodded, knocking on the counter and turning toward the taps.

Fran tried to put the awkward encounter with the bartender to the back of her mind for the moment and turned 90 degrees so that she could face Jack more easily.

“So, you are or you aren’t from around here?” she asked, returning to the question that had led the two of them here originally.

Jack smiled, weighing his options. This question was always a complicated one to answer… but something about explaining it to Fran put him oddly at ease.

“So we, uh, we moved around a bit because my dad was a hockey player before he had kids, and then a coach for years while I was growing up,” he began.

“Oh, nice! I don’t know much about hockey,” she told him, shaking her head. “Big on playing sports but never big on watching them.”

Oh, my god, he thought to himself as he nodded, trying to seem casual. It’s like this girl was built in a lab just for me.

However, he didn’t know whether this next part would seem better or worse to a girl who wasn’t a sports fan. But it was his reality, so he decided to lay it bare.

“Gotcha, um… so, I… also play hockey.”

Francesca’s eyebrows shot up.

“Wow… really?”

Jack nodded again, then cleared his throat.

“Yeah, uh, that’s actually why I’m here tonight,” he explained. “All my teammates are here. Our season just ended and everybody’s about to separate for the summer, so we came out for one last night together for a while.”

It was Fran’s turn to nod as the bartender approached, and Jack thanked her and pushed a large bill across the counter. Fran busied herself with running her finger along the rim of her glass, pretending like she didn’t notice the generous denomination. Jack leaned an elbow against the counter to face her, in hopes of continuing the conversation.

“So… wait, you play for, what, the Rangers? Islanders?” she asked, pulling the names of the teams she vaguely recalled from the cobwebbed recesses of her brain.

Jack smacked a hand to his chest dramatically as if he’d just been shot.

“God, Fran,” he hissed, “you really know how to wound me.”

“What?!” she asked, sputtering with laughter. “I dunno! Are those the wrong team names?!”

Jack shook his head, entertained. “No, no,” he assured. “You were right – those are NHL teams, but I play for the Devils. They play just over in Newark.”

“Oh… right,” Fran said softly, biting her lip and tucking her chin to her chest, praying she somehow didn’t look as stupid as she felt.

Jack lowered his head to try and meet her eyes, squeezing her elbow gently. The simple touch alone sent a bolt of electricity through her being.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed,” he said with an easy chuckle. “Trust me, it’s way better having to explain all this to you than having you come up and recite it all to me like some creepy walking encyclopedia.”

Francesca forced a tight smile, but still stared at her shoes. In a gutsy move, he reached his thumb and forefinger to grasp her chin and gently tilt her head upward.

“C’mon, lemme see that pretty face,” he said in a gravelly tone, one that made her spine shiver.

Just as she found herself leaning into his touch, she saw a tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered man approaching Jack from behind, unsteady on his feet. She assumed that this was one of his teammates, as the taller man went to sling a noodly arm around Jack’s shoulders.

“Uh, look out-” Fran warned… but it was too late.

The man’s hand flung Jack’s glass clean out of his grip, sending its red liquid contents splashing all over Fran’s chest and stomach before hitting the floor, thankfully hitting a sopping wet rug beneath the bar, which was the only thing that kept it from shattering into a million pieces.

They both gasped in the process, and Jack instinctively grabbed her by the forearm.

“Oh, my god! Omigod, fuck, Fran, I-I’m so sorry,” he lamented. “Woody! Fuck!” he yelled to the drunken man who apologized apathetically, then disappeared into the crowd.

Fran blinked quickly, her mouth in a tight “o” as she set aside her beer. As a wincing Jack stupidly patted her torso with the flimsy cocktail napkin that had been handed to him with his drink, he took in her expression and felt sick to his stomach.

Well, there you have it, he thought to himself. No way she’s ever gonna see me again after this…

What he hadn’t accounted for, though, was that after the initial shock of wearing the cold drink faded, Fran would throw her head back in uproarious laughter, eyes screwed up tight in hilarity.

Jack let one nervous snicker escape him, and then another, and then another… and by the time thirty seconds had passed, the two of them were breathless in fits of giggles, Jack keeping a firm hand on the crook of Fran’s arm.

“Are you okay?” he managed to utter as they finally began to settle down.

She nodded, wiping tears of hysteria away with her wrist.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she promised, splaying a hand on her chest as she glanced down at the maroon stain on her yellow dress. “I’m just dying because this is my roommate’s dress and she made me swear not to spill anything on it,” she admitted, erupting with laughter all over again. “So much for that.”

Jack’s eyes glittered as he watched her chuckle. “Well, the blame lies squarely on me, so I’ll apologize to her for that one,” he told her, beaming. He cleared his throat before venturing forward. “Hey, my place isn’t far and I think I’ve got some club soda in the fridge… whad’ya say we-”

Before he could finish his thought, Fran picked up where Jack had left off before the drink had been spilled, pressing a hand assertively to his cheek and leaning forward to plant a firm kiss to his lips. Neither of them knew how much time had passed before she eventually pulled away, biting her bottom lip coyly.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, smoothing the back of his finger across her cheekbone. He watched a Cheshire grin spread across her now-swollen lips, and she offered an enthusiastic nod.

He trailed his fingertips down her bare arm, sending chills across her skin despite the heat and humidity of the bar, before he reached for her hand.

“Then let’s go.”

After a short cab ride brimming with stolen glances and squeezes of hands, the two were practically sprinting through his front door, Jack not bothering to even turn on the lights in favor of keeping his hands securely on Fran’s lower back, holding her desperately close as his lips danced across hers with simultaneous ease and desire.

Eventually, he carefully backed her into his kitchen and hoisted her onto the counter, feeling her quiver when the cool marble hit the backs of her thighs.

He smiled against her lips and said roughly, “I gotta get you that club soda.”

She shook her head without breaking away from his kiss.

“It can wait,” she whispered insistently. “Just get me outta this dress.”

Jack smirked, his fingers immediately following orders as they searched for the zipper in the middle of her back.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he retorted, finally pulling the zipper down, allowing him to tug the dress over her head. He offered it to her, one last chance to take care of the task they came here under the guise of doing – removing the maroon stain from the gauzy garment. Instead, she tossed it aside, watching as it floated to the tile floor before grasping Jack’s shoulders purposefully, leaning in to speak against the delicate skin of his ear.

“I want you,” she admitted, nipping at his earlobe.

And after he carried her to his bedroom, she had him, had her fill of him – just the way they both wanted, their union the perfect balance between urgent and reverent, as if they both already knew that whatever this was between the two of them was something meant to be cherished.

More than an hour later, after making the mutual decision that it was time for a snack and a little something else to drink in order to replenish their strength, Jack left her alone with her thoughts in the quiet of his bedroom as he made his way back to the kitchen, donning only a pair of sweats, smiling when he picked up the now-rumpled yellow dress and placed it in his spacious farmhouse-style sink. He secured the drain stopper and retrieved the club soda from the refrigerator, still smirking to himself as he poured the stain-fighting liquid over the fabric to ensure it was completely immersed.

As he turned back to the fridge on the hunt for a satisfactory snack, Jack saw Fran emerge from his bedroom wearing nothing but one of his white dress shirts and a clean pair of his boxers.

She grimaced, and he sensed her unease even from a few yards away.

“I’m sorry, I just kinda put on the first things I found in your closet,” she said, one eye squeezed shut as if it pained her to make the admission. “I hope that’s okay. I swear I don’t make it a habit to put on a guy’s clothes like I own the place, but I, uh… didn’t exactly have a dress to put back on,” she pointed out.

Still distracted by the sight of her in his clothes, he shook his head rapidly.

“No, no, of course… I’m taking care of that as we speak,” he assured, nodding his head in the direction of the sink. “And you can wear whatever you want of mine – I should’ve laid something out for you, but… this is perfect.” He took a few slow steps toward her, his hands coming to rest on her hips. “You look amazing,” he said, his voice deep once again.

Francesca bloomed under his praise, preened beneath his touch as he reached out to stroke her cheek, his thumb coming to rest on her plush lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered, pursing her lips to kiss the pad of his thumb.

It took every ounce of gentlemanly will in Jack not to throw her over his shoulder and haul her back into the bedroom again. Instead, he forced himself to take a step back and motion toward the adjacent living room.

“Go on and make yourself comfortable,” he urged as she glanced toward the expansive space. “I’ll grab us a couple things and be right over.”

Fran nodded and obliged, entering the inviting area and finding herself immediately drawn to the vintage Victrola on a shelf on the far side of the room.

Meanwhile, after coming up empty in the liquor cabinet and noticing that the refrigerator was fresh out of beer, Jack opened a crummy bottle of wine he was certain Ty had bought once for a date but had never been touched. He poured two glasses and set them on a sturdy wooden tray, then scrounged through the cupboards to find some crackers that weren’t stale to go along with the Gouda and sopressata he’d found in the fridge. Pleased that he accomplished his mission, he arranged all of the items on the tray and carried it into the living room. As he set it on the coffee table, he found Fran admiring the shelves displaying his substantial collection of vinyls. Upon hearing him approach, a glass of wine for her in hand, Fran turned his way.

“You have quite the record collection there, Mr. Tough Guy Hockey Jock,” she teased, brows raised as she gratefully accepted the glass. “And not just the trendy new stuff, the good stuff – Sinatra, the Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, Bowie, Pink Floyd. I’m impressed.”

Jack smirked. “Thanks – to be fair, I inherited a bunch of them from my parents and grandparents. They’d move and they’d always threaten to sell these on eBay but I wouldn’t let ‘em,” he explained. “Go ahead, put one on – anything.”

His request was easier said than done, and as he turned away to close the blinds throughout the room, chomping on cheese and crackers, she faced the impossible task of choosing one, eventually settling on James Taylor’s “Something in the Way She Moves.”

He smiled when he heard the first strains, and her eyes met his when she turned away from the record player after setting the needle.

“Great choice,” he praised, the two of them crossing the room toward one another as if at the mercy of some magnetic force.

“One of my mom’s favorites,” she explained, fingers toying with the hem of the dress shirt as the folksy melody swirled throughout the room.

There's something in the way she moves Or looks my way, or calls my name That seems to leave this troubled world behind…

When they were no more than a foot apart, Jack opened his palm and held it out toward her.

“Dance with me,” he less invited, more demanded, not that Fran minded. She instantly slipped her fingers into his and took a step nearer so that their chests were pressed impossibly close.

She in his shirt and boxers, he in a pair of sweats, neither of them in shoes, they twirled around his living room as if attending a royal ball, until an unmistakable scratch signaled the end of the record… but by then, Jack and Fran were already locked in each others’ embrace again, the only sounds in the room the panting breaths escaping their lips between fiery kisses.

They never did make it back to the bedroom that night, didn’t even ever find sleep where they stayed curled up together in the living room, talking and laughing through the wee hours. Instead, when the sun rose, their only hint that morning had already come, they were sitting on the hardwood floor, laughing with her feet in his lap like he was her closest friend and not some random boy she’d met at a bar mere hours before.

“How’d we end up on the floor anyway?” Jack said, rubbing at a kink in his neck as one hand stayed fixed on her ankles.

Fran lifted the empty bottle of wine next to where she lay, and his eyes reluctantly traveled away from her face and toward her hands.

“Your roommate’s cheap-ass screw-top rose, that’s how,” she retorted, reminding him of the bottle they’d shared after all the drinks they’d already indulged in at the bar.

“Mmm…” he hummed with lifted brows, both of them chuckling at the culprit as she set it back down on the hardwood. “So… coffee?” he inquired, desperate for this night – or, well, now morning – not to end. Desperate for Fran to stay here, with him, and never leave.

To his delight, she cocked her head against the throw pillow and offered him the warmest smile he’d ever seen.

“I’d love some,” she answered simply, realizing she’d be content to never see the outside world, anything beyond the walls of this Hoboken house, again.

They saw each other every day for the next year and a half after that, and starting with that very first one, Jack had painted all Fran’s nights a color she had searched for since.

And still, to this day, she couldn’t remember who she was before him.

___

July 21, 2023 – present day…

“This day,” that is, being Brady and Emma Tkachuk’s wedding day. Which after the breakup, Fran had never anticipated being present for.

But then came the phone call in the dead of winter, just weeks after she’d ended it with Jack. She was still reeling, trying to push through the pain while focusing on excelling in her last semester of undergrad, but anyone who knew her could see that she was struggling, including mutual friends of hers and Jack’s. Which soon made its way back to Emma via Brady.

And when Fran saw Emma’s name on her screen that day as she studied for an exam, she smiled. She hadn’t talked to Emma since before the split, and despite knowing it was more than likely going to be a covert check-up call, Fran was happy to hear from the girl she’d become so close to in the last two years.

___

February 18, 2023 – five months ago…

Fran tapped the “answer” button and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Hi, Em,” she said warmly.

“Hi! I miss you! Brady’s here, too,” Emma explained.

“Franny D!” he called over the speakerphone.

“Hey, B! I miss you guys, too,” she said sadly. “How are you guys?”

“We’re good!” Emma answered. “Neck-deep in wedding planning. I know it’s gonna be fun but it’s honestly kinda brutal.”

“Brutal, Franny,” Brady echoed dramatically. “It’s torture.”

Fran chuckled. “What, B, not enjoying picking out linen colors? Did you go with eggshell or warm white?”

“Couldn’t tell ya, Franny,” he replied. “If I had it my way, none of the tables would be covered and everybody’d just be playing beer pong on ‘em.”

Fran swore she could hear Emma’s eye roll. “You’re such a dude,” Fran complained.

“He’s not kidding about making that suggestion, either,” Emma said, feigning (or maybe not) weariness. “But, um, that’s not why we’re calling. First of all, we, uh… we just wanted to see how you were.”

Fran swallowed, staring out the window of her apartment, watching the snow swirl among the towering skyscrapers and across bustling streets. She’d been having trouble answering that question at all, let alone honestly. She reached to rub her palm up and down the length of her shin, suddenly feeling cold.

“I’m, um… I mean, I’ve been better, that’s for sure,” she told them. “I just… I really never thought this would happen, to be totally honest.” Her voice was quieter now, the familiar lump in her throat quivering.

Emma made a sound of understanding.

“Us either, Franny,” Brady gently concurred. “And I know you don’t wanna hear this right now, but I know Jacky didn’t think so either.”

Fran sighed, dropping her chin to her chest as her eyes fell to the azure crewneck with the maize Michigan logo emblazoned on the front, which Jack had left behind once after a trip to visit Luke. She had never returned it, and he eventually noticed it in the background of a FaceTime call while he was on a road trip and told her to keep it because he was certain it looked better on her anyway. And now it hurt to look at it, and it hurt to wear it, and it hurt to not wear it, so she went with wearing it, because even though she’d been the only one to don it for a year, she swore it still smelled like him. Unconsciously, she closed her eyes and breathed deep.

“I know,” she said softly.

“We didn’t wanna make you sad, Fran, but the other reason we were calling is just to say that we’d really like to invite you to the wedding in July-”

Brady interrupted his fiancee. “No, we are inviting you to the wedding, no question,” he said firmly. “But we just want you to know that it’s completely up to you whether you wanna come.”

“Yes,” Emma jumped in again. “We would absolutely love to have you there, because you mean so much to both of us, but we totally get it if it’s too much. Quinn’s in the wedding and we’re inviting their whole family, so… obviously Jack will be there.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she cleared her throat. “Y-yeah, of course, as he should be,” Fran managed. “I really appreciate the invitation, you guys. Seriously, it means so much to me. I’ll check the dates on my calendar, but I’d really love to come-”

Before she could even finish her thought, she heard a loud clap and a “FUCK YEAH!” from Brady, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re the best, Franny D,” he said. “And I’ll promise Quinny’ll keep Jacky on his best behavior.”

“Plus Ellen’ll be there, so you know he’s not getting away with shit,” Emma offered.

“You guys are too much,” Fran said affectionately. “It’s your day – I don’t need you worrying about me and J.” She felt a stab in her heart at her own use of the retired pet name, one that was once used so frequently and so fondly but was now avoided like a plague. She swallowed that lump in her throat again. “We’ll be fine.”

“We know you will,” Brady said softly. “Well, listen, we’ll let you go but, uh… thanks, Franny. I really hope you can make it.”

“Yes, we really do!” Emma reiterated. “We love you, Fran. Talk soon.”

“I love you guys, too,” she told them. “Thanks for calling.”

And Brady must not have been able to keep the news to himself, because within a few hours of agreeing to attend the Tkachuk wedding, her phone had buzzed four more times with text messages from four members of the Hughes clan:

Lukey: yooo B just told me you’re coming to the wedding!!! hell yes, sista 👊 see you soon

Quinny: Franny D, super happy to hear you’re coming to B’s wedding. we love ya, no matter what. can’t wait to see ya

Ellen: Hi, my sweet girl 💖 Chantal just told me that you’re planning to come to Brady and Emma’s wedding. I’m so happy to hear it! I’m counting down the days until I see you. Love always 💋

Jim: Hey Franny! Can’t wait to see you at the Tkachuk wedding this summer. Really glad you’re planning to go. ❤️

The only member of the family that her phone didn’t sound with a message from that night?

Jack.

The one that it hurt the most not to hear from.

She set her phone aside that night and swallowed, hard, pulling her legs to her chest and resting her forehead on her knees. Preparing to see Jack in person for the first time in months was going to be impossible enough, but seeing his entire family… that just might be enough to break her.

Because she’d never fallen out of love with them, either.

___

July 21, 2023 – present day…

And today, after a heartbreakingly long hug with Ellen before the ceremony, and affectionate but melancholy greetings from Jim and Luke, here Fran stood in the midst of Brady’s reception, in front of the middle Hughes son who never did text her leading up to this moment. When he’d seen her approach his family’s seats a few minutes before today’s ceremony, he had only just stood up from his chair at the far end of their row to try and make his way toward her when the processional music started, leaving both of them frozen in place, staring helplessly at one another. She’d mouthed sorry, and he’d nodded and mouthed we’ll talk, as his family sat still between them, awkwardly trying to avoid making eye contact with the estranged couple lest they make the moment even more painful for them than it already was.

When Fran turned to find the nearest single seat, she could feel the tingling heat creeping up her neck, and it wasn’t from the summer sun. She’d spent months agonizing over what she would say to Jack when she finally saw him again, and she still couldn’t believe that the first thing she’d spoken aloud after they’d found each other on the deck for a quiet moment alone was “can I ask you a question?” But how else was she supposed to begin the conversation, anyway?

And at least he’d agreed – conceded that nothing had yet felt as good as the two of them had. For the past six months, she’d been terrified that nothing ever would, and she had to admit, it felt good to know that he seemed to share that same belief.

It felt good and it felt awful all at the same time.

Fran sighed, lifting her gaze to the shimmering stars far above their heads.

“Why are we doing this?” she whispered, half to herself and half to him.

Jack gave her a quizzical look; she was all over the place right now… not that he didn’t feel completely undone and frazzled himself.

“What? Talking? I dunno, Fran, I can go back inside, but I wasn’t just gonna sit in there all night and ignore y-”

Fran stopped him, shaking her head. “No, that’s not what I mean,” she said, a noticeable exhaustion in her tone, one that Jack recognized in his own voice often these days. “I just mean… this hurts so bad, J. And it doesn’t have to – didn’t have to. We were so good together… why did-”

“Because you said it was too much, Fran,” Jack accused, sharply though accurately, remembering how the pressure of being in a serious relationship with one of North America’s most heralded professional athletes at such a young age had often left her curled up in a ball in the corner, something that at 20 and then 21 years old, he had found himself completely unprepared to handle.

“And I made the wrong choice!” Fran admitted, her voice rising an octave by the end of the sentence as her emotions took over. “At least I can admit it. Can you? I mean, you’re the one who left my house in the middle of the night, without even trying to put up a fight. Can you admit that you were in the wrong, too?”

Yeah, I can, he immediately thought to himself, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it.

Instead his mind flashed to the very moment in time where he knew he had indeed made the wrong choice.

___

April 3, 2023 – three months earlier…

Jack was trying his hardest to pay attention to his date. He truly was.

In a well-meaning but doomed-from-the-start attempt to help him get over Fran, one of the team WAGs had set him up with her college roommate who had recently moved to the city. So here he was at dinner following a Broadway show he’d never even heard of before, which he had bought tickets to specifically because he knew he wouldn’t have to speak to the girl for at least a couple of hours but would still come away looking like the hero for dropping money on expensive tickets for date number one.

What he hadn’t accounted for, when she had unsurprisingly suggested that they grab a bite to eat after the show at Sugarfish on 56th and Broadway, was that he’d spot, through the front window, Francesca walking down the sidewalk hand-in-hand with some guy, laughing with him as he told what were no doubt painfully lame attempts at jokes to try and impress her.

Jack’s blood ran cold, his jaw muscles flexing as he clenched his teeth together, his date still rambling on about her so-called career as a “business owner.” (See also: owner of an Instagram account where she posted regular thirst traps and tagged the brands she wore, unprompted. See also: a quasi-influencer. See also: a Kardashian wanna-be.) Which provided him the perfect opportunity to get lost in his own spiraling thoughts.

Granted, this restaurant wasn't that far from Fran’s apartment on 52nd, a fact which Jack was painfully aware of throughout the entirety of the show and the meal. But goddamn it… this city was filled with eight million people besides her and that dickhead guy, but they just happened to be the two who caught his gaze.

Which maybe wouldn’t have bothered Jack so much if it didn’t look like Fran was actually enjoying the guy’s company.

He slouched in his chair and spoke as few words as possible for the rest of the meal, and when it had finally, mercifully, ended, he called her an Uber, waited until she had gotten picked up, sulked to his car, and deleted her number.

___

July 21, 2023 – present day…

“Well? Can you?” Fran repeated, losing patience as she wondered where his mind had just wandered off to.

“Yeah, I can,” Jack said simply, deciding to lay all his cards on the table at the recall of the recent memory.

Fran’s head snapped toward him. Being that he was by far the most stubborn person she had ever known, she hadn’t expected him to fess up to that. Her mouth opened as she thought of what to say next, then closed it when nothing came to mind quickly enough.

“I can tell you exactly when I realized it, too,” Jack said with a smile devoid of humor, licking his lips – the very same lips she used to call home. “I saw you with some guy walking down 56th a few months ago. And it felt… fuck, it just felt like I was out of time.”

Francesca blinked repeatedly, confusion etched on her features. Though she knew who she would have been with that night, she didn’t even remember the exact instance he was referring to, so it obviously hadn’t left all that much of an impression upon her. But that’s not the information she wanted to inquire about.

“W-what do you mean, ‘out of time’?” she asked, her volume much lower now.

Jack met her with sad eyes, pursing his lips. He shrugged a shoulder.

“I dunno, I guess… I guess I was holding out hope that somehow, we’d work it out,” he replied, his voice suddenly sounding hoarse. “I just always thought it would be us in the end. But seeing you with someone new, I… I just lost that hope.”

Tears pricked at the backs of Fran’s eyelids and she looked away, swiping at her eyes with the side of her hand.

“There’s never been anyone else… I mean, not… not really,” she was suddenly saying, caught off guard that she was opening up so much. “That was the closest I got, but it was only for a few weeks, and he ended it because he said I was being distant. And he was right. I just, I wasn’t in it. Not at all.”

Jack watched her the entire time she spoke, then nodded slowly. He understood that feeling all too well.

“I get it,” he said softly. “Trust me.”

As the two of them let their respective admissions hang between them in the thick summer air, falling into a contemplative silence, unbeknownst to them, a tipsy Luke had made his way back to the open bar at the edge of the dancefloor, which was situated just inside the tall French doors leading to the venue’s back patio where his brother and Fran stood alone as the party raged on. Luke’s eyes never left the acrimonious pair as he ordered himself not one, but two more gin and tonics, then darted, drinks in hand, across the room to where his parents and Quinn sat at a table chatting.

“Luke Warren Hughes, you’d better slow down on the double fisting,” Ellen warned in her best mom voice.

Luke waved her off. “Yeah, whatever – guys, listen to me, this is important,” he urged, out of breath. “Jacky and Franny are outside by themselves talking.”

“What?!” Quinn exclaimed, jumping up from his chair so quickly and so forcefully that it would have tipped over if not for Jim’s quick reflexes, as he shook his head in disapproval. As he watched his eldest son jog to the same door Luke had just been standing near to peer through the panels for himself, Jim scoffed.

“You guys need to give them their privacy – they’ve been through enough,” he stated firmly.

“Yes, and you wouldn’t like it if your brothers were spying on you and a girl,” Ellen pointed out.

Luke swallowed a gulp of his cocktail and beamed.

“Yeah, but… it’s not just some girl. It’s Jack and Fran,” he declared, shaking his head in excited disbelief before following after his brother.

Having lost both their sons to espionage, Ellen and Jim’s eyes met, and they shared a knowing, hopeful smirk.

“It is Jack and Fran,” Jim repeated in a voice near a whisper, tipping the rim of his beer bottle toward his wife, who clinked it with her champagne glass.

“Cheers to that… no matter what happens,” she said softly.

Back outside, ignorant to the fact that they were being carefully watched, Jack was surprised when Fran breathed a laugh through her nose, finally breaking the silence. Her cheeks warmed at the memory replaying in her mind.

“Remember that first night we spent together, at your place in Hoboken? What we did after Miles made you spill that drink on me?” she asked, unaware that he had played those sacred scenes over in his mind hundreds if not thousands of times in the past two years just as she had, particularly when they were each alone in their beds in the dead of night.

“Of course I do,” he replied quietly. “It’s kinda… all I ever do. Well, that night and… a-and lots of other nights after that.” He caught her stare and somberly confessed, “I feel you no matter what.”

Fran took a few daring steps closer, her hand brushing his. She leaned in so close that her lips nearly grazed the shell of his ear.

“Do you wish you could still touch me, Jack?” she whispered, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on its end.

He slowly exhaled through pursed lips, trying and failing to steady his now-racing pulse.

“Every fuckin’ day, Fran,” he said with little hesitation, turning his head so that their noses were mere centimeters from each other.

“Is it too late to do something about it?” she asked, her eyes locked with his.

“With us?” he let out a singular chuckle. “It’s never too late with us, Fran.”

She smiled so wide it made her cheeks ache, and she ran a hand down the lapel of his jacket.

“Good, because you look really fuckin’ handsome, and I’ve been wanting to tell you that all night,” she said, her voice low and sultry.

He hummed appreciatively and nuzzled his nose against her temple.

“Funny you say that, because I’ve been wanting to tell you all night that I, uh… I like your dress,” he whispered, recycling the very first compliment he ever bestowed upon her before pressing a kiss to the skin just in front of her ear as she giggled, but the laughter died on her lips as Jack kissed a line from her ear, across her cheekbone, to the tip of her nose, to the corner of her mouth, and finally, to her eager lips, which matched the fervor and neediness of his own. It was as though the pain of the past six months melted away as they each attempted to demonstrate how deeply and passionately they had missed the other, hands in hair, chests flush, soft moans being captured by the other’s mouth…

But it wouldn’t be an important moment in Jack and Fran’s story if there weren’t loved ones meddling nearby.

Now it wasn’t only Luke and Quinn at the doors watching the marvelous scene unfold, but it was Matthew, and Ellie, and Taryn, and Robbie, and all the Fitzgerald kids, and Brady, and Emma. Someone pushed open one of the doors, flooding the patio with a cacophony of cheers and jeers from those closest to them.

“Get a room!” “Finally!” “Jack, this is a family wedding!” “Hand check!” “Oww owwww!”

God… embarrassing.

Reluctantly pulling away from the kiss, Jack growled, resting his forehead against Fran’s as she giggled nervously, before whipping his head toward their audience.

“Don’t you all have a wedding to get back to?” His head swiveled to Brady and Emma. “Especially you two?”

Brady shrugged. “Hey, we already had our kiss, man. You go ‘head,” he encouraged.

Emma giggled, one hand wrapped around her groom’s bicep as she swatted nonchalantly toward Jack and Fran with the other.

“Yeah, carry on. Don’t mind us!” she sang.

Jack rolled his eyes, but all inhibition and worry faded away as Fran grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down to meet her lips once more, feeling his frown literally turn upside down into a smirk as he sunk into her, hand finding a familiar home low on her back, dangerously close to the curve of her ass.

And at that, the crowd they’d drawn erupted into a fit of laughter and applause, Quinn and Luke in the middle of it all, pumping their fists simultaneously before clapping their palms together and leaning in for a hug.

They got their sister back.

“What are you kids doin’ over here?” came a booming voice from the back of the group. Jack and Fran watched as the seas parted and Keith Tkachuk made his way to the door, following his younger son’s pointed index finger to find the reunited couple embracing on the patio. His eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead.

“Well, can’t say I didn’t see this one coming!” he bellowed, a jolly twinkle in his eye. “Now, you boneheads have had your fun,” he addressed the group. “Leave these two to have their own.” With a wink, he turned away, and their crowd of clamoring cheerleaders dispersed, whispering animatedly among themselves.

Jack exhaled swiftly and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Shoutout Big Walt,” he declared, clearing his throat.

Fran nodded, snickering, and pulled him in by the waist.

“Gotta love ‘em, though, hmm?” she mused, nuzzling her nose against his.

“Mmm, yeah, whatever,” Jack dismissed, a tenacious hand on her cheek as he leaned down to press his lips to hers once again. “Now, where were we?” he teased in a whisper as she smiled against his mouth, her hands traveling beneath his suit jacket, across the familiar expanse of his sculpted back. His hands found their original target and slipped down the small of her back, finally reaching the arc of her rear.

“Mmmm… hello, old friend,” Jack murmured in her ear, earning him a playful smack to the hip.

“Shut up,” she sassed him, but she didn’t mean it, and they both knew it. He fixed his lips to hers over and over again, and though the party roared on inside, mere yards away, it was as if Jack and Fran were the only two people on the face of the earth, their bodies fusing together as if they had always been intended to be one.

It was always like that for the two of them.

Nothing could have pulled them from that moment… except the first strains of “Something in the Way She Moves” by James Taylor echoing from the speakers inside.

The pair froze. She pulled away to hold him at arm’s length, in utter disbelief.

Jack ogled at Fran, the pure longing in his eyes mirrored in hers. His siblings and friends were meddlers, sure… but had they been so thoughtful as to remember that this was their song — had been since that very first night? Or was it simply fate?

Either way, Jack could do nothing but extend his upturned palm toward her.

“Dance with me?” he asked softly.

Suddenly self-conscious, she smoothed a hand through her curls, then swiped at the damp corners of her eyes.

“God, Jack, I’m a mess,” she said with a halfhearted chuckle. “I don’t think I can go back in there right now.”

Jack shrugged. “So what?” he asked, taking hold of her hand and pulling her in, his other arm winding around her. “We’ll dance right here.”

She rested her free hand on his chest, melting at the sweet sentiment. Then, she relaxed into him, tucking her head into his neck where it fit perfectly — always had.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, then rested his cheek atop her head as the song carried on...

There's something in the way she moves Or looks my way, or calls my name That seems to leave this troubled world behind If I'm feeling down and blue Or troubled by some foolish game She always seems to make me change my mind And I feel fine anytime she's around me now She's around me now Almost all the time And if I'm well you can tell she's been with me now She's been with me now quite a long, long time And I feel fine…

Jack’s heart soared, his joy permanently etched on his face, as he swayed side to side with Francesca in his arms. In his wildest dreams, he could have never hoped to have her here with him again like this.

He glanced down at the girl he’d loved since the first time he’d laid eyes on her, saw her eyes fluttered closed in blissful contentment, and brushed his lips across her brow as he whispered, “Fran, you know for me, it’s always you, right?”

He watched the corners of her mouth pull upward even further, and she tipped her face up to meet his.

“I hoped so,” she admitted roguishly. “Because for me, it’s always you, too.”

#the summer fic exchange 2k23 #my writing #jack hughes #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes fanfiction

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