#I am stranded without friends and without opportunities to make them

[brontes]

eating glass listening to liability haunting my house like a ghost until the loneliness devours me and I drown in it like a still lake

[rrxnjun]

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.

[tripleglitchwriting]

Kinesthesis (Part 1)

Set in the same universe as Ignition and Combustion!

Part 2

I am working if requests I promise I just wanted to write something else along with them.

Synopsis: As the Arc crashes down to Earth, Jazz and Prowl are left without escape pods. Stranded on an unknown planet and gravely injured, the two seem lost… if it weren’t for a curious mechanic going to see what all the smoke coming from the sky was.

Warnings: Robogore I guess? Not too descriptive yet.

When the ship was hit, Jazz and Prowl were already on deck and preparing a counterattack. They’d tried everything to cloak the ship from the Decepticons, but unfortunately they failed. One good shot to the Arcs main thrusters and it was starting to look like game over. Luckily that desperate shot gave Prowl a great opportunity to strike back. He landed a near perfect hit on the Nemesis before Optimus ordered a retreat.

Most of the crew were heading toward the escape pods per protocol, which was just fine by Prowl, but the damage to the Arc was severe. Severe enough that without somebody staying behind to keep it flying for a little longer, nobody would make it out with their sparks intact. Now, Prowl was never one to go against orders, especially not from Optimus, but there were little other options he had. As third in command it was his obligation to do everything in his power to save the lives of his crew.

Jazz knew that too. He just wasn’t a hardass.

“Heya Prowler, got cherself in a tangle here, eh?”

“This is not the time for jokes!” He snapped.

“Hey, hey, no joking here. I know what you’re tryin’ to do. And I’m gonna help ya.”

“No, I can keep the Arc up for long enough-”

“Cool it hothead, I’m second in command, remember? You take orders for me. And I say I’m helpin’”

“What about Optim-“

“He’s helpin’ the rest escape. I’m sure he plans to do this himself if we don’t take the wheel.” The ship trembled around them. “I’ll take the thrusters, you protect the pods.”

Prowl mumbled something under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Please stop cutting me off.” With that the Arc began its final decent. From the windows Prowl watched as escape pods flew out of the ship one by one. He did everything he could to prevent his friends from being turned into scrap midair. In seconds the number of pods still in danger trickled out. Warning signs flashed on every screen in the room, but neither paid much mind. As long as their cause continued, dying here wasn’t so bad, right?

Fate had other plans, though.

As the thrusters finally lost power and the ship began to rapidly descend to the planet below, Prowl and Jazz watched as each system went down one by one. Life support: offline, shields: offline, warp core: offline, escape pods… offline. They could only hope the rest made it out okay.

The fact a stray shot from what they assumed to be the Nemesis was hurtling towards them wasn’t really ideal. Neither bot had the time to react before the entire room was engulfed in flame. The windows shattered from the force, sending everything inside out into the atmosphere, including Prowl and Jazz.

——————————

The Arc was gone. Gone as in nobody knew where it was at least, which might as well be nowhere at all considering this planet was entirely alien. Actually, where was this planet? Where were they? Wait… who’s they? What’s a planet…? Wait, no, wait- what?

Jazz was running dangerously low on energon. And his left arm, apparently. That was definitely gone. His optics were offline for the time being, as were most of his senses. Luckily that included pain! Unluckily, he could be literally anywhere right now. And so could the rest of the crew…. and Prowl.

Prowl landed hard upon a canopy of trees that immediately gave under his weight. He couldn’t hear much outside of the ringing in his audials. Maybe that was lucky, maybe he wasn’t actually falling through trees on a faraway planet. Maybe he was getting chewed out by Jazz for being stupid, or tuning out Swerve for being Swerve.

…Deep down he knew that was wrong. He should be dead. Maybe he was. Maybe death was better than whatever going on now.

No. No, that was the cowards way out. Get up, Prowl, open your optics. One step at a time. You’re a soldier, you’re a commander. This is no time to be sitting around and- HACK — his body lurched as he spit up energon.

Alright, ok, slower then.

He could feel his entire frame creak. Slowly his optics sparked to life. The world was dim and glitchy. Objects around him moved in ways nothing should ever move. He wished Ratchet were there. He wished anyone were there. Wasn’t there somebody else that was supposed to be there?

“Prowler?” A weak but familiar voice sounded from somewhere far, far away. Or was it very close? It was hard to tell. “P- Prowler, my optics- are you there?”

“Jazz…” He replied almost unconsciously. “A- a- affirmative.” Most of his professor was screaming system failure, warning him of what he already suspected. He couldn’t see Jazz, not in his immediate line of sight, but knowing he was there was comforting. Knowing he was there for the end.

“W- we need h- help, com’on, we n- nee-”

“It’s o- okay. I- it’ll be okay, J- Jazz.” It wasn’t often Prowl was willing to talk so openly to others. Not about how he really felt at the moment. But who was around to witness this anyway? Who would be there to see his vulnerability? Rules, regulations, laws, sanctions, they didn’t matter anymore. His job was done now, right? He’d done well?

“B- big talk for a b- bot that soun’s l- like a g- g- glitch ‘ouse.”

“Haha. F- funny.”

“We must b- be in b- b- big trouble if t- the mighty Prowl is l- laughin’.”

Warning: System failure imminent

“W- we m- must be j- just f- fine if you c- can still crack j- jokes.”

Stasis mode will activate in 5…

“G- got me t- there, P- Prowl- ler.”

4…

“…W- who gave you p’mission to c- call me Pr- Prowler…”

3…

“A- ah, there’s t- the tightass I kn- know.”

2…

“Y- you’re r- really g- going to go out like t- th- this, J- Jazz?”

1…

“N- no b- better way, Prowl- Prowl- Prowler.”

Initiating stasis…

“Goodnight.”

“G- Goodnight…”

Procedure successful.

——————————————

Camping. Frankly, you hated it. It sucked! It all sucked. You’d much rather be back in the garage working on whatever project you had going on at the time. Cars were your specialty, though you chose to believe you could fix anything if enough effort was put into it. Unfortunately, out here in the middle of NOWHERE, you were out of luck when it came to machinery.

It was still bright out when you went to set up your tent. A beautiful, clear sky. You picked some random clearing near a small stream to lay your things down. While camping wasn’t your strong suit, building definitely was. That’s why you were even doing this in the first place- “no better teacher than experience”, your mother told you. You didn’t see what kind of mechanical experience you’d gain from this bullshit, but you also knew better than to question her.

Whether you wanted to be here or not, time still kept marching forward, and you wanted to save every bit of daylight you could before the forest got too dark to traverse. It took about an hour to get your campsite set up enough to be livable. You were expected to do much before time was up, but you had a couple days to complete that. Ugh, days. You had to spend days out here.

The sky darkened a little earlier than you expected. Sunset was in an hour, yet the perfect blue you’d been enjoying before was slowly being dimmed. When you looked up you saw black clouds. The kind that roll over the sky when a thunderstorm happens. The forecast didn’t call for rain, and even if it did it’s not like you weren’t prepared, but those were definitely no good omen.

A strange, low droning noise became more apparent the darker the sky got. You were trying to ignore it before, maybe the forest just made that sound sometimes. But no, when you looked up, you could make out something else strange.

Those clouds were coming from… nowhere, it seemed. Like two very very very tiny planes were producing enough smoke to cover the sun like a volcano.

Then it got weirder.

Strange little black things begun to jet out from thin air. They went in all different directions, some producing smoke themselves. You finally came to your senses when something up there definitely exploded. Whatever the hell was happening in the sky was not normal and you were not going to be in a random forest when the apocalypse or whatever came. More sounds crashed above, each getting louder by the second. While most of the black things were headed far from your location, you didn’t want to be there when one landed.

The campsite was left abandoned. Your legs felt like someone put them through a taffy puller. Your brain was so focused on getting back to civilization you didn’t notice the glaring issue right above your head.

Well, it was less glaring and more hurtling. Hurtling towards you. From the sky.

Needless to say, you were not very happy when the ground shook and a shockwave of dirt and ash blew past you. You were surprised there wasn’t a crater or a forest fire or something. No, instead there was… well you were too far to see, but it was strange. White metal, maybe.

A terrifying thought passed through your panic stricken head. Somebody could be over there. Maybe it was a plane crash, maybe people were dying, or- or worse! Whatever you were witnessing wasn’t normal, obviously, but hell if you were going to sit on your ass while (assumed) people were in danger.

You just hoped that instinct was right, because most of your other senses told you to hightail it out of there. Suddenly, camping didn’t sound too bad.

[numptypylon]

“Rayla is… not my lovebug.”

“Oh ho, now?" Nyx leaned obnoxiously close, her eyebrows raising. "Have you told her that?”

“She told me," Callum said, angry all over again suddenly that... she actually hadn't told him that and yet they weren't- "So I’m tentatively assuming that she knows.”

“Oh ho? So she broke up with you and yet you’re still adventuring together, risking your lives for each other, making love eyes at each other at every opportunity… ah, to be young and in love and a garbage fire of collective awkwardness of such radiance as to light up the heavens-”

“Yeah!” Ezran agreed, walking up to them. Oh no. Hopefully Nyx would tone down the… everything… around an 11-year-old, but… considering he had been 14 himself when he’d first encountered Nyx, he didn’t have high hopes. “It’s gross and they’re so dumb, and here I am, a doomed onlooker!"

“You got the family braincell, I see,” Nyx said, winking at Ezran.

Ezran nodded sagely. “My blessing and my curse, ‘tis true.”

Really?! Did Ez really have to form an alliance with every new person they met to tag-team roast him?!

Nyx turned away from Ezran, her unwanted attention firmly back on him now. “I still need the full status update on my favorite dysfunctional lovebugs!” Nyx would keep prodding, and Callum didn’t want her to prod Rayla- “You know there’s another ex-lovebug who could tell me-“ Did he just curse that idea into Nyx’s head?! “But you’re currently the less puke-smelling option, so…"

Nyx really didn't subscribe to the idea of sensitive subjects you should keep your trap shut about.

“We… broke up. Like you said.” One way to say it. But he wasn’t giving Nyx any ammunition to use against Rayla. “Then made up. Kind of. We’re friends, just not… lovebugs.”

“Friends with benefits?”

“What friends do you have?” Ezran asked, all wide-eyed, vicious innocence. “Do you not consider friendship a benefit?”

“Hey!” Nyx looked insulted. “I thought we were allies against yon magus of maladroit you tragically must call brother?”

“My allegiances are many and inscrutable!” Ez stuck his tongue out at Nyx.

“’Allegiances’? ’Inscrutable’? Sheesh, kid, how old are you? And what awful, terrible company do you keep?!”

“11. And… politicians.”

“Oh no, you’re serious?! Oh kid, the depths of my condolences is one of them yawning chasms of endless screaming-“

“Oi?!” Villads yelled. “Matey? Riggin’ snagged!”

“I don’t hold court with betrayers, anyway,” Nyx said, incredibly hypocritically for someone who’d stranded them in a desert, and she pushed off the deck and was airborne, heading off towards the center mast.

“What is the benefit of being ‘friends with benefits’?” Ezran asked, looking around to Callum and then Soren, who had just arrived with Hat perched on his head. “The friendship is pretty obviously a benefit of being friends without having to say it, so I know it isn’t that, I just said that because Nyx was being mean.”

“Oh, I know!” Soren said, eagerly. “It’s s-“

“Sandwiches!” Callum cut him off. “Sandwiches, Soren! Remember?”

“Riiiiight!” Soren winked, exaggeratedly. “Sandwiches. Got it. Corvus makes the best bread sandwich, extra mayonnaise-“

“Please, Soren,” Callum choked. “Please, let’s… talk about something else. Anything else. Please.”

———

Excerpt from an upcoming chapter of my S4-6 between-canon-episodes fic, Downtime’s Up (successor to my S1-3 between-canon-scenes fics Downtime in Wartime and Upside Downtime)

It’s wednesday and I have many wips I want to work on and no time, but I DO also have a lot of stuff written and not posted, so… hope you enjoyed some overgrown pigeon time and depraved sandwich innuendos. Once I get past the next 4 chapters of Downtime’s Up, I have most of the rest of the story written, just… it’s been rough going to write anything lately

[grapejuicestyless]

Night Shift

Harry Styles x Fem!ex best friend reader

Summery: the song Night Shift

The first time I tasted somebody else's spit, I had a coughing fit

I mistakenly called them by your name

I was let down it wasn't the same

“Shit, I’m sorry. Fuck.” I wiped my lips subconsciously, trying to dry the spit from the boy that vaguely resembled my best friend. Same color hair, same color eyes but somehow less beautiful on the random boy than the one I wanted.

I picked at my skin, my thumb scratching at my hangnails until they bled from the cuticles down my knuckles.

It was always like this. I convince myself I’m fine and go out for drinks. But as soon as I’m not fully sober, he comes back to me like a not as distant memory as I thought he was. I end up wiping my mouth and bleeding on my dress, leaving whoever was there in the bathroom as I make a b-line for the exit.

I'm doing fine, trying to derail my one track mind

Regaining my self-worth in record time

But I can't help but think of your other in the bed that was mine

So again, I walk the street way past my self set curfew and destroying any self respect I’d scraped up off the floor beneath my feet.

But how could I be angry at him for leaving? My best friend, who had such great opportunities ahead of him. A winding journey of riches and fame. A household name to be made. Such a bright star, why would he stay with his friend, who could barely make it past third period without running off to get lost in her head? Why would he tie himself down with someone who could make nothing of themselves.

I had dreams, I had aspirations that I got so damn close to reaching, but never quite there. Never quite confident enough to take the chances that everyone else was so easy to do. So while everyone grows up into who they want to be around me, I stay here and rott in my childish self pity and hopeless devotion to a man who calls once a month if I get lucky.

Maybe all these reasons could level out my anger issues and make me come up with a rational reason to his forgetfulness to check in with someone who never forgot to make sure he was okay. But they didn’t and instead I only grew more impatient and more irritable the larger he rose into a life we’d dreamed he’d get together. Call it jealousy, but I believe it’s just the bitter part of myself angry at the loss of him.

Am I a masochist, resisting urges to punch you in the teeth

Call you a bitch and leave?

When the phone hanging unevenly in the kitchen echoed through the late PM, I let my feet rush across the tile. I almost didn’t answer the phone, scared that if it was the one call I’d receive from him, I’d waste it. Maybe if I called back, by some miracle he’d answer. But I came up with fake scenario‘s to force myself to answer.

What if my mom was hurt?

What if someone needed help?

What if my grandma was dying?

“Hello..?” I rubbed at my eyes, tucking the strands of hair falling in front of my face behind my ears. I leaned into the wall, hip popped out and heal off my foot off the ground comfortably.

“Y/n, hey. How have you been?” His English accent felt like a warm blanket of home. It was his moms Sunday breakfast the morning after a sleepover. It was the dew on the grass we ran through every morning before school.

I bit my lip until my teeth were stained red and there were holes in the skin so deep it could scar.

“Oh. I’m good. How have you been?” He laughed, it was airy and light with the blissful ignorance to the hurt he inflicted on me every time with these damn calls.

“You don’t sound too excited to hear from me, y/n/n.” Mentally, I rolled my eyes.

On the outside I came off as rude and standoffish towards any sort of topic involving our situation, but inside I craved for him to chase me like he still wanted me in his life. Just for him to care enough that me not caring broke him into the same shards he’d shattered me into when he left.

“No, just a little tired is all. So, how have you been, Harry?” I tried again, brushing the tense muscles away like everything he said didn’t deeply bother me.

He sighed. I could imagine in that moment that he was pinching his brows and blinking rapidly like he did all those years ago whenever he got slightly out of sorts.

“I’ve been doing really good, recently. I’m touring with the boys.” I nodded, though he couldn’t see me, it felt instinct to get tight lipped and short with him.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it to the show, by the way. I really wanted to come.” I answered his next question before he could ask it. I knew he’d ask me if I was sure about not coming to his shows. It was a yearly occurrence.

At first I’d show up. Only to the first tour. The second one I had a work conflict with. My the third I had given up even checking my calendar, the embarrassment of my life being only a fraction of what his was worth too embarrassing for me, let alone how embarrassing it was to him. Even if he’d never admit that he found my life boring and undesirable, he’d shown it by leaving everything I worked for behind.

“About that, listen.” He started, I braced myself for what he was about to ask.

“I think it might be nice to catch up. Im in town, I wanted to see you tonight. You remember that cafe on the corner of Washington? The one we went to all the time when we were younger?”

“It closed last year, H.” I checked the clock. The line went silent.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” I bit at my nails in anticipation.

“How about the old coffee shop that sold sea salt taffy’s at the counter?” I hummed.

“Yeah, okay. What time?”

“How about eight? Does that work-“

“Yeah sounds great. See you then.” I hung up the phone harshly, ready to stab him in the heart for leading me on like he cared still or let him twist the knife he’d already put through mine. I knew why he’d called.

Every so often he’d get reminded by someone of me, then he’d get consumed with an insurmountable amount of guilt for not staying in touch. For letting himself drift away. He’d call like we had talked just the other day and go about his life forgetting me once again.

Why did I come here? To sit and watch you stare at your feet?

What was the plan? Absolve your guilt and shake hands?

I arrived at the shop first, finding a table situated near the back, where we always used to sit so we could talk as loud as we wanted and not get hushed.

I placed our coffees under the small napkins laid out to absorb the water rings that gathered occasionally. I ordered the same two black coffees Harry and I had always loved since we were young. Truthfully, I had no idea if he even liked it black anymore.

When the bell rang, my breath was caught in my throat. There he was. The same tall, tanned boy with the curly mop of soft brown locks and sparkling green eyes smiling softly at me. And my heart still raced the same way it did in elementary school.

“Y/n, oh my god you look great.” He reached out for a hug. I hesitated to return it. I was afraid to take in his scent. I was afraid to get attached to something that didn’t belong to me anymore. If I got attached it would only be harder to let it go again. I already lacked the supplies to patch my broken wings, how would I fix them if I allowed him to tear them straight off?

And when I did smell him, it was like a bubble of heaven surrounding my body. I could melt into his chest and just be fully vulnerable. It was the smell of my childhood and the promises of forever that we’d sworn on.

“I got us coffee. Black, like old times.” His lips pulled back and his teeth clenched.

“I actually don’t drink caffeine anymore.” Oh.

“Then why the coffee shop?” I almost laughed at his stupid choice of place. I almost let out a string of curses and begged for answers why I was even there. If not to drink until I’m up for days and pretend you miss me like I miss you, then why call me?

I feel no need to forgive but I might as well

“I just really like this place. Never really changed, so.” I nodded. Of course.

A silence covered us like a blanket that was rough and stuffy. The only sounds being those of the soft sipping of my coffee and the clink the cup made as it made contact with the table. Seconds of this turned to minutes, minutes feeling more like hours.

“How’s your mom?”

“She’s still out of her mind. Less than before but she’s still pretty sick so, I’m not expecting her to do much better.” The table between us was suddenly the most beautiful sight ever. The wood my eyes place to settle on to avoid his stare.

“What about your dad?” He pressed on, wanting more out of me.

“He’s doing the best he can. He’s needed a lot of help with mom so I’ve been helping. It’s been hard but it’s nice being all together again. I don’t mind it, it gets quiet over here.” I swallowed a lump in my throat, my tongue finding a home poking at the inside of my cheek.

“Shit, I had no idea it was that bad, babe. Why didn’t you say something?”

“You never asked.” Looking up to meet his face was like watching him process his lack of involvement in my life. It was watching him go through every stage of grief at once and every bit of it was doused in guilt.

But let me kiss your lips so I know how it felt

Silence consumed us again. From afar I bet we looked like we were on an awkward first date. You never would have guessed that we’d know each other in and out at some point. But life is funny like that. While I live with our memories together like it deserves to be protected, he tosses them out like a side quest leading him to his success without me.

The chair squeaked when I stood, my hand reaching in my back pocket to pull out a twenty.

“I hope your show goes well tomorrow, Harry.” I began to leave, only stopping once he shot up and blocked my path with his chest.

Pay for my coffee and leave before the sun goes down

Walk for hours in the dark feeling all hell

“What? You’re leaving? Why?”

“Harry, I can’t catch up with someone I don’t even know.”

“You know me.”

“Do I?”

“Yes!” He raised his voice slightly. His tone wavered, unsure of himself and hurt by my quickness in giving up on us.

“Okay, then you must not know me.”

“Of course I know you.” I laughed but he didn’t find it funny.

Don't hold your breath, forget you've ever saw me at my best

You don't deserve what you don't respect

Don't deserve what you say you love and then neglect

“I know you still like your coffee black. And I know that you stayed at home because you got too attached to the backroads here. I know you were obsessed with the idea of letting our children grow up in one of the nice houses up on the hill with the picket fences and becoming just as close as we are.”

“As we were.” I corrected.

“As we are.” He insisted.

“You can’t be close to someone you can’t even remember to call until everyone else is busy.” He shut up, tugging at the hair at his roots.

“Y/n.” The beg tumbled past his lips with no real request. Maybe to just stay in my presence for a moment longer, but that idea was shoved down with all my other fantasies of us still being close like he believed we were.

“I hope your show goes well tomorrow, Harry.” My shoulder brushed his. He reached out for me, but missed by a hair, I felt it. Yet, he made no further movement to come back to me. He didn’t chase what he didn’t want.

Now bite your tongue, it's too dangerous to fall so young

Take back what you said

Can't lose what you never had

Exiting that shop hurt more than a thousand cuts in the creases of my body. Each step was heavier and each street light I counted only hurt my head more to count.

The scream I let out by the park bench on the way home was guttural and obnoxious. I could only pray no one overheard my breakdown that came out in ugly sobs and a clawed at chest.

If he was gone, then so was my oxygen. Every time was harder to let go than the previous. All had been over the phone so this was a new kind of hurt. This was dying. This was the light draining and the body shutting down If always feared as a kid. This was me welcoming it.

I could only wish he could feel a fraction of what I felt letting him go like that.

I feel no need to forgive but I might as well

But let me kiss your lips so I know how it felt

Pay for my coffee and leave before the sun goes down

Walk for hours in the dark feeling all hell

I memorized his tour schedule for the next year. I knew when he would be in town and I knew when he would be leaving. I could predict when he would call, I could guess what he would ask about and I could accurately mouth the jokes he always said when things got awkward.

So I started helping over my parents help on nights when he was in town. If he wanted to call, I wouldn’t be there to contribute to his sudden remembrance to his humble beginnings.

I started avoiding my phone. I stopped walking through the kitchen. I started going to bed early when I was at home. I started to stop praying on his call to come and started to pray it wouldn’t.

You got a 9 to 5, so I'll take the night shift

And I'll never see you again if I can help it

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers

Dedicated to new lovers

Getting over him wasn’t an option, but I could distract myself with the people present in my life. My friends became my best friends and he slipped into a distant memory after some passing weeks. The mention of his name still had my heart racing at a speed that was pitiful for someone so mistreated, but I no longer longed for his constant presence.

You got a 9 to 5, so I'll take the night shift

And I'll never see you again if I can help it

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers

Dedicated to new lovers

It had been a year since that night that I walked out. It had been a few months since I developed my schedule to avoid his calls and pleas for my reassurance he hadn’t lost me. And it had been long enough for me to do the unbelievable.

When the phone rang in the kitchen I didn’t shuffle as quick as possible across the tile like I would. I didn’t rationalize with who it could be, what could be happening. I let my feet drag slowly to the wall with the same old phone on it and I answered.

I answered the phone, picking it up off the wall, and before he could get a word out about his relief that I’d answered, I set the phone back against the wall, ending the call before it began.

I did the unbelievable. I stopped caring.

You got a 9 to 5, so I'll take the night shift

And I'll never see you again if I can help it

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers

Dedicated to new lovers

[hanayori89]

🪶🪶 Lesson 6: Scandal on

Skyloft 🪶🪶

You could no longer blame it on the turbulence.

As Skyloft came into view, so did an aerial shot of your classmates standing on the island's edge. The clouds failed to veil the folded arms of the headmaster, Pipit's chagrin, or Zelda's scowl. 

The sight alone made your guts feel as if they had fallen to your kneecaps. 

Then, of course, there was Karane, her hands making a clapping motion that you could imagine was nowhere near as loud as the huge, unmistakable grin she wore on her freckled face. 

As you descended, Link cast a glance in your direction. "Let me handle Gaepora and Owlan." His voice hovered around you in warning. "But Y/N, please heed my warning and forfeit. Now that you have heard some of what Impa and I have discussed, the wing ceremony is the perfect opportunity for the imprisoned to break free once more. And if something happens to you, I-"

"You never even explained to me what 'the imprisoned' is. Why should I fear what I don't understand? Besides, I'm not a character in your silly legend anyway." Your response was snarky, but at least it didn't betray your hurt. "And I don't need you to protect me. I can protect myself. So, just focus on your goddess."

Link's Loftwing fluttered to a graceful stop by the light tower, where everyone was gathered in wait for your arrival. You hopped off, desperate to get away from Link so that he couldn't see the devastation that had made itself known between your scrunched-together brows.

Just focus on your goddess. You mentally repeated, feeling Link's eyes on your back as you left him stranded on top of his Loftwing.

Karane beelined toward you. In a hushed whisper, she chided, "Ohhhh, Y/N You've done it now. Sneaking out? At night? Without being a Loftwing pilot? With Link? Goddess, this is the most delicious scandal ever." 

"Karane..."

"Oh, if you had seen Zelda's face when word got out that you and Link were missing together! I wish I could have taken a photo and taped it to my locker. It was sensational!"

"Karane..."

"However, Pipit's ego is hurting. He blames himself for not seeing you or Link leave while he was on guard duty. Honestly, Y/N, I'm happy for you, but did you have to make Pipit look incompetent?" 

"Karane..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, you're right. I just feel slighted, like we are best friends, and you didn't tell me once about you and Link. I knew you liked him! You're so obvious sometimes. Did you kiss? Did he profess his love to you among the stars on top of his crimson Loftwing?" 

"Karane!"

You grabbed your friends' shoulders and gave her a light shake. "Look, it was an accident! I did sneak out; however, it was by myself, and I ended up falling to the surface and-"

She cupped her pretty pout beneath her hands. "The surface! Y/N!"  You sighed, realizing your explanation was just fodder for more of Karane's questioning.

"What did you see down there?" 

"Uh, birds? A pinecone woman?"

Karane's eyes went wide. "Whoa, you saw birds?"

"I didn't really explore; Link dived after me and-"

"Link went after you? That's so, so romantic." Her eyes wandered far away as she clenched her hands over her heart. "I wonder if Pipit would dive off an island after me?"

As if by summoning, Pipit appeared beside you. Your outspoken best friend suddenly reverted into a timid husk of herself. "Oh, Hello Pipit." She grabbed one of her red pigtails and twirled it between her fingers.

"Karane." You stood in between them as their eyes did an amorous waltz around one another. 

"Oh Brother." You muttered beneath your breath.

Pipit looked at you with disdain. "Y/N. I am appalled. You had the most promise out of all of us to be the next knight. Why, you could have even been at my level. Why would you throw it away for a frivolous jaunt?" 

A thundering voice cut in. "Who cares why she did it? She did it, and honestly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, Y/N." Groose clapped your back. "I spent all morning consoling Zelda. Maybe now she'll finally see who the obvious choice for her heart is."

You looked at Groose. Groose, who knew Link's secret before you. Rage gently began to stoke you, and you grabbed his side, nipping some of his flesh with your fingers, causing him to shriek like a cat in a bathtub. 

"Hey! What are you- Ah!" 

"How dare you!" You hissed; your jaw clenched as you continued to peck him with pinches. 

"OwWwWwW. Y/N!!!" He broke free from your grip and ran away. 

"Pansy." You murmured as you watched him trip and fall in his effort to escape. Your eyes lifted past him to Zelda, mollycoddling and smothering Link. His hand was rubbing the back of his neck in that awkward mannerism he did when he was uncomfortable with flattery. 

While Zelda's back was facing you, Link didn't seem to be facing her. He peered over her shoulder, his eyes frozen solid on you.

You stared back at him, not understanding why you felt as if it were hard to breathe.

Suddenly, Zelda grabbed his arm and dragged him along. Both of their silhouettes disappeared as they walked in the direction of the goddess statue. 

Yeah, that's right. Go be with your goddess. 

You found your breath again, if only in a shallow spurt of disappointment. Your eyes seemed to follow them, and your vision had become a third wheel to their intimate party of two. 

The grumbling sound of someone clearing their throat behind you made you snatch your eyes away.

"Y/N." Headmaster Gaepora stood before you. His dark eyes were as unreadable as the many books locked away within his chambers.

"Let's step inside my office." You knew it was a command and not an offer.

Gaepora was a towering display of a man. Truthfully, you didn't quite see a resemblance between Zelda and the headmaster. Besides their penchant for wisdom and higher education, and maybe the thick, scraggly mess of brows that harkened back to when Gaepora was a youth and had a head of hair himself, like Zelda. 

Once inside, he pulled out a chair and, with a polite gesture of his hand, urged you to take a seat. You had decided when you were flying through the middle sky, that you would not let on that you knew of Link and Zelda's duties or bond. You would simply incriminate yourself by telling him of your curiosity and taking responsibility for sneaking out, and Link just happened to be doing his duty and was going to report you.

You weren't sure why you were defending Link. Maybe you felt like you owed him for jumping after you. 

Or maybe it was because of his consecrated sobriquet. 

Either way, you were prepared for your expulsion from the knight program.

What you weren't prepared for was what Gaepora said next.

"I'm going to be concise. I need you to stay away from Link." 

Edited:6/2/24

[claymoresword]

We're Burned For Better

Alicent Hightower x Rhaenyra Targaryen

Summary: Rhaenyra finds out Aegon is really her son.

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings: angst, fluff, viserys targaryen

Note: i have nothing to say besides the fact that this was necessary. i just had to write this.

“Rhaenyra– can you say Rhaenyra?”

“Rae..nuh.”

Little Aegon babbles as the Princess repeatedly bounced him on her lap.

Rhaenyra shrugs. An easy smile forms on her lips, one Alicent can be seen imitating.

“Close enough.”

A sudden jolt of the carriage and Aegon instinctively wrap his hand around Rhaenyra’s arm.

“Well isn’t this splendid.”

Viserys starts and Rhaenyra suppresses the urge to roll her eyes.

Two years passed and the resentment she felt for her father had only festered.

In truth, so much has happened since his betrothal to Alicent she’s forgotten exactly why she was angry.

“The whole of our family off to celebration and adventure in the Kingswood.”

Her father continues and Rhaenyra makes no effort to acknowledge him. Instead she holds up Aegon’s toy for him to grab, brushing strands of hair out of his face.

Viserys observes the interaction.

“You will be with your own child, sooner than late– and make me a proud grandsire.”

Rhaenyra doesn’t fight her incredulous expression. Although, she did have to stop herself from laughing in his face.

She opens her mouth to retaliate but is interrupted by Alicent.

“It’s not so bad, Aegon came quickly and without fuss.”

Alicent reassures and her airy tone only left Rhaenyra feeling unsettled.

Sharing a space with her father and his lady wife was always an uncomfortable affair. It never failed to make Rhaenyra feel suffocated.

An awkward silence surrounds the carriage and Viserys tries again.

“You should ride out with me today. Join in the chase.”

“I’d rather not.” The Princess was quick to answer.

“The boars squeal like children when they’re being slaughtered. I find it discomforting.”

Viserys takes a swig of his ale.

“How would you like to participate?”

“I’m not sure why I must.”

“Because you are my daughter, the Princess. You have duties.”

“As I am ceaselessly reminded.” Rhaenyra mutters under her breath.

Viserys clenches his jaw and the Princess can’t help but feel a bit victorious.

He holds his arms out and Rhaenyra lifts Aegon off her lap.

The boy fusses before Viserys has the chance to hold him.

She lets out a chuckle before setting Aegon back down on her lap.

“Oh it’s alright my young Prince. Is the old man bothering you as well?”

Bouncing her leg for comfort.

“Don’t cry.”

She whispers and Aegon quietly obeys, turning his attention back to his toy dragon.

“You wouldn’t need to be reminded of your duties if you ever attended to them.”

Viserys says through gritted teeth before the carriage comes to a stop.

The King walks out without another word and Aegon’s caretaker grabs the baby quickly, leaving the carriage with him in her arms.

Rhaenyra rejects any eye contact attempted by Alicent. She exits, taking note of the large crowd awaiting their arrival.

Alicent swallows her pride, brushing off Rhaenyra’s dismissal.

Schooling her expression she steps out. She is stunned for a moment as the Princess held out her own hand, helping Alicent get off the carriage.

Her hand still in Rhaenyra’s, she studies the Princess’ expression and for a moment there is familiarity.

Alicent sees her best friend, the woman she loves.

Rhaenyra’s steely exterior quickly restored, she denies Alicent any opportunity to thank her. Swiftly walking ahead of the Queen, through the crowd.

--

Rhaenyra’s irritability felt like a low rumble in the pit of her stomach, contained but still intrusive.

Lord Lannister’s slimy attempt at winning her hand only worked to turn her rage into an intolerable pounding in her head.

“Is that what I am to you? A prize to proffer about to the great houses?”

The King turns around and is met with his daughter’s irate expression.

“You are of age, Rhaenyra.”

“Jason Lannister is an excellent match. Since you came of age, I’ve been drowning in a lake of parchment flung from every corner of the realm. Marriage proposals all.”

“I have tried, often to discuss it with you. But you’ve refused me at every turn.”

Viserys raises his voice and Rhaenyra rolls her eyes.

“That is because I do not wish to get married.”

“Even I do not exist above duty Rhaenyra!”

Her father shouts and it only ignites her own wrath.

“Your Grace.”

The Lord Hand interrupts and the several eyes around the room peering in their direction only urges Rhaenyra to flee.

She storms out without another word.

“Rhaenyra!”

She ignores Alicent calling out to her, quickly mounting her horse to ride out into the forest on her own.

--

The Princess dismounts her horse by the river, she found herself observing the steady stream.

In this moment she can breathe again.

It is as if the constant flow of water washed out any trace of anger in her system.

A heaviness begins to loom over Rhaenyra again when she hears the sound of a horse galloping. As it got closer she quickly recognised it to be Alicent.

Ser Criston came along as her escort.

She watches as Alicent dismounts the horse.

Rhaenyra fails to greet the Queen, turning her attention back to the water.

“You may go, Ser Criston I will ride back with the Princess.”

“But–”

“The Queen commands you to leave us at once.”

Criston hesitates.

“I will remain at a distance Your Grace but I cannot leave you here unprotected.”

Criston takes his leave before Alicent gets the opportunity to command otherwise.

Alicent steps closer to Rhaenyra and after a beat the Princess breaks the silence.

“State what it is that you want, Alicent.”

The Queen furrows her eyebrows, foolishly she hadn’t prepared for Rhaenyra’s harshness.

“I do not wish anything from you Rhaenyra. I only wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Rhaenyra lets out a sigh.

“You needn’t worry for me Your Grace. I am perfectly fine, please return to your husband.” Rhaenyra practically spits the last statement.

More silence falls between them but she doesn’t attempt to walk away.

“What happened back there? I thought today was rather pleasant–”

Rhaenyra lets out a laugh, although there is no humour behind it.

“Pleasant for who? You? Or my father?”

She challenges but Alicent doesn’t falter.

“Do you not tire from holding this grudge Rhaenyra? None of it needs be this way.”

Alicent reaches for the other woman’s hand experimentally.

Rhaenyra steps back, letting out a scoff.

She is no longer using her words.

Inevitably walking away from Alicent she prepares to mount her horse.

“Whatever you say, Your Grace.”

Alicent now feeling her own frustration, she struts after Rhaenyra.

“Don’t do that.”

“I only hoped after today that you'd make an effort to spend more time with us."

She keeps her tone cordial but it only seemed to infuriate Rhaenyra further.

“Why would you ever expect that from me?”

Rhaenyra steps closer, her attempt to intimidate Alicent only causes her own breath to hitch in her throat.

Their close proximity forces a flood of memories into the forefront of her mind, memories she is quick to suppress.

“Because we are a family.”

Alicent says and Rhaenyra rolls her eyes.

“Bullshit.”

She turns to walk further away, abandoning her effort to get on her horse. She could not bear to look at her Queen.

“And because he is your son.”

Alicent mutters, barely audible but loud enough to stop Rhaenyra in her tracks.

Turning around to face her, she notices Alicent’s eyes welling up with tears.

Rhaenyra’s head is pounding again.

“What did you say?”

Alicent’s chest heaving as she holds back a sob.

The sight compelled Rhaenyra to step closer to her.

“Aegon is your son.”

Alicent repeats but it does nothing to subdue her confusion. Rhaenyra shakes her head in disagreement.

In disbelief.

“Alicent..”

Rhaenyra tries but could not find it in herself to conjure a coherent sentence.

“I found that I was with child days before the wedding.”

“Rhaenyra, you are the only one I had ever laid with.”

The Princess stumbles backwards as if she had just been struck. She clutches her chest until the searing pain subsided.

Her own eyes now brimming with tears.

“Why keep this from me?”

Alicent doesn’t respond instead she has her face in her hands as heavy sobs racked her body.

Rhaenyra closes the gap between them, wrapping her arms around Alicent.

“I’m sorry.” The Princess says and she feels Alicent grip her tighter.

What exactly she was apologising for, she could not say for certain.

She was sorry for not being around to raise Aegon alongside her.

She was sorry that Alicent married the King instead of her.

Rhaenyra was also sorry for the impending knowledge that Aegon’s true parentage was a secret that had to be kept between them, for they both realized that the implications were dire.

Their baby boy, a blessing as much as he is a curse.

Rhaenyra releases Alicent from her grasp, she looks into her eyes and it hits her all at once.

“Aegon’s our son?”

Rhaenyra breathes out, still incapable of processing her new reality.

Alicent reaches up to wipe the fresh tear coming down Rhaenyra’s cheek. She could not help the smile that forms on her lips.

“He’s our son.”

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

hiiii! i hope you’re having a wonderful day!!

i was wondering if you were still doing ships, specifically pjo + hoo?? if not, it’s totally okay :) i appreciate you either way

i’m 5’4, stocky, and mixed (native/white)! pronouns are she/her, and i’m bi so literally anyone (or one of each cause i’m not picky) :) i’m kinda pale but tan really easily (just haven’t had a lot of sunshine recently), and have tons of freckles literally everywhere. my hair is loooong black and curly, and i have grey eyes! i loveeee doing makeup, so it’s pretty rare that you would find me without any eyeliner specifically. i do have tattoos, most are tributes to loved ones (and my arrow tattoo is my favorite 🫶) i do have random scars, some from surgeries and others — embarrassingly enough — from chickenpox

i’m extremely outgoing! i can talk to anyone about anything, and my nickname at my job is literally “sunshine” so i’m well known for my kindness. i am very sarcastic though too, and love to make people laugh (usually with dark humor depending on who im with). i don’t have a lot of friends despite the extroversion, i like to keep my circle small but close knit because i also like my alone time. i’m not huge on parties but i LOVE to host dinner parties, game nights, movie/tv marathons, etc. i’m a huge mom friend, i always have everything anyone could possibly need in my bag. i’m loyal to a fault, i would literally do anything for the well-being of my friends and family and it 100% is my fatal flaw because it’s hard for me to see the bad in people. buttt i can also hold a horrible grudge because once i see the bad in people it’s hard for me to look past it :/

i love reading and writing, im always trying to learn something new. when im not busy working, i literally spend all day outside in the sun. baking & cooking are huge hobbies of mine! i also used to do a ton of sports (still would if there were more opportunities) and my favorites were cheerleading and volleyball. i also played a ton of instruments (7) but french horn was always my favorite :) i studied history & ASL in college and wanted to become a teacher but since i’m american, i put that dream on a hold because of the lack of safety in schools. so during the summers i work at a theatre (love musicals & the stage) and during the rest of the year, i’m a full time nanny :) kids are our futures and i love them sooo much. they bring me immense happiness!

some fun facts to include

— i can’t ride a bike — godly parent is apollo if it isn’t obvious — i have a mallen streak in my hair, so a white strand of hair — i was a state champion in piano at a young age — i’m the youngest of 5 kids — i was and am still a horse girl 100%

thank you so much!!! sending you lots of love and gratitude 💞

Your PJO/HOO Ship: Talia Grace!

(she loves your make up and thinks that your tattoos are super bad ass. I just think you guys would be such a power couple together and I definitely shipped this.)

[frozenjokes]

Signing Back In, Apparently - 9

Prev/Next

Through the fizzling spurts of his slowly fading anxieties, Mumbo was beginning to feel.. light? A good feeling! Very good! Impulse had sat them all down to, in his words, ‘Get it all out on the table.’ Get on the same page. Talk.

And they did.

It took awhile for the ice to be broken, but the longer they went, the more horrified Mumbo was about just how much the four of them had left unsaid. Pearl was afraid. Afraid of being hurt, afraid of the crew being hurt, and being too late to save them. She always used the word save. Scar couldn’t do any more harm if he was dead, and god , she wanted him dead. Scar needed to suffer for the way he had played with them. Grian locked her in a tight hug when she admitted to blaming herself for his death. Mumbo hadn’t even known what had happened between the two of them and Scar before now.

Grian was.. angry? He was angry so he didn’t have to be sad, confused, betrayed, and every other range of emotions someone might feel when one of their best friends murders them. It shocked Mumbo to learn Grian still wanted desperately to know why. “I thought if I just crushed it down hard enough, I would eventually stop caring. I thought if Scar was dead, then it would go away. Now, I’m not so sure.” Mumbo took Grian’s hand in his and promised he’d find out. Mumbo didn’t recognize the pain in Grian’s eyes when he begged Mumbo not to.

“I don’t understand,” he had said. No one explained.

Mumbo probably had the most to say. Maybe it was because his own emotions were so confused? Unraveling every piece of the story felt like he was fraying the strands, leaping back and forth as he tried hopelessly to keep things simple and understandable. He was grateful when Impulse would step in and help. Usually, his insight was right. Pearl and Grian looked.. mostly distressed to be honest. Mumbo was deeply relieved when the explanation of his own attachment to Scar seemed to click for Grian. He hadn’t realized before seeing Grian’s shoulders relax, that Mumbo wanted him to understand the most. Pearl struggled with the idea, but she promised she wasn’t angry. Given Mumbo felt similarly with her desire to hurt Scar, he was more than happy to leave it at that.

Impulse insisted he had already said everything he wanted to with each of them separately, but with more than a little friendly bullying, he eventually caved. Mumbo didn’t remember the last time they had all laughed together like this. When they were alive, maybe?

“How did we ever lose sight of this?” Mumbo leaned back on his hands. He.. felt warm.

“Well I have a guess!” Grian rolled his eyes in mock-exaggeration, pushing against Mumbo’s arm.

“Ugh, Scar. Well, he did one good thing at least, bringing us all together. I can’t imagine living without you guys. Or, dying? Being dead? Gosh, imagine being dead with three other people you hate! I’d go crazy!” Pearl threw her arms in the arm, carrying the top half of her body ever so slightly away from the bottom. Grian snickered.

“Well, now that we’ve all agreed we are happier without Scar in our lives, I am declaring a Scar vacation! A Scarcation if you will,” Impulse grinned, making circles with his hand as he bowed. Mumbo clapped when no one else made a noise. “We all need some time away, I think. Even though we’re bound to him, we still have quite the range we can spend elsewhere, so I think we should take the opportunity to.. I don’t know! Hang out? It’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“Yes please, ” Grian let himself float on his back, crossing his legs. Mumbo caught Pearl’s eye, relieved to see her also looking a bit unsure.

This didn’t escape Impulse’s notice. “I know we’re all very focused on our individual goals, but Scar isn’t going anywhere. We need to take care of ourselves, first. And honestly, I’m tired! This is a mandatory vacation, so I don’t want to hear any complaints.”

“Okay, dad ,” Grian giggled, flicking at Impulse’s hair.

“Hey! You were on board!”

“You can’t force me to do anything! I’m a free spirit! A free spirit that doesn’t want to so much as look at Scar for a while! Let’s go Scarcation!”

“Just.. how long?” Pearl asked, unable to cover the apprehension in her voice.

“A week. Just a week.”

Pearl blinked, quickly sinking into a more relaxed posture, “I can swing that. Mumbo?”

“What? Yes, of course that’s fine. Sorry- do you guys feel like Scar is getting farther away? Like that pull?”

The three other ghosts paused, silent in their focus. “Oh come on!” Impulse broke it first, “Scar hasn’t gone sailing in- in weeks, right? Yesterday was probably one of the worst days of his life! Why would he go now?”

“Are we just going to let ourselves get dragged through the water then, or do we get to sit on the boat?” Pearl gave Impulse a bemused smile, patting him on the shoulder.

“Maybe we just don’t interact? Scar’s never out long,” Mumbo suggested. Impulse put his head in his hands.

“We could always just start tomorrow,” Grian suggested, shrugging.

“But we just had a moment! It was the perfect time!” Impulse wailed, throwing his hands up.

“Come on, let’s just go,” Pearl laughed, pulling Impulse to his feet, “Scarcation has already started, we’ll just separate once the boat docks.” The pull was starting to get uncomfortable now as Scar presumably picked up speed, and Mumbo wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to stay. He caught Grian’s eye, waving before he disappeared.

“Why would I tell them I’m leaving? They’ll figure it out, and they can teleport to my location anyway. God, when I first got here they wouldn’t stop because it spooked me so bad each time one just appeared in front of me! Eventually, I just got really good at not flinching so- AAUGH!” Scar’s scream was magnificent as he turned around to see Mumbo standing there, making a flying leap directly into Cleo’s arms. Grian popped into existence beside Mumbo, cackling as Cleo unceremoniously dropped Scar to the ground. Mumbo doubled over next to Grian, tears forming at the edges of his vision.

“I take it they’ve arrived?” Cleo smirked.

“Oh! Did you scare him?” Pearl said, delight evident in her tone as she pushed forward to examine Scar, still laying on the ground

“I didn’t mean to!” Mumbo jumped back, unable to keep the smile off his lips. He sat down, joined quickly by Impulse. “Sorry, I think I’ve already jumbled your Scarcation.”

“Well on a ship this small, I think that was inevitable. Alright everyone, pack in! Just pretend like he’s not there!” It took a little more convincing to get Pearl and Grian away from Scar, but eventually, they all sat, trying their best to ignore whatever Scar and Cleo were speaking about. But why was Cleo here? Mumbo hadn’t seen her in ages, along with most other pirates from the other factions. The same question was plastered on the faces of the other ghosts, and it wasn’t long before the whole group was silent, listening.

“Scar, aren’t you going to introduce me to your ghosts?” Cleo put her hands on her hips and jokingly tapped her foot. When Scar only gave a noncommittal grunt, she plucked him off the boat’s wheel and turned him around.

“No? Why do you even care? They’re my ghosts,” he scowled, shaking her off.

“Relax! I’m not going to take them from you. I just want to be friendly if we’re going to be seeing each other more often, and plus, ghosts are far more interesting than people.”

“I refuse to do this regularly. I already think it’s stupid, and honestly, you’ve made it seem like I’m not going to survive the trip in the first place.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine, you’re charming enough. Cub loves that kinda thing, which is why he’s so obsessed with me right now. It’s definitely not because I’ve started a competing business and anyone who tells you so is a damned liar.”

“Okay, this is like the fifth time you’ve brought Cub up, care to tell me who that is?”

“Trust me, it will be better as a surprise.”

“You keep implying he’s going to kill me!” Scar said, pointing an accusatory finger. Pearl perked up, but curled back in when Mumbo laughed, a sheepish smile crossing her face. She pushed him, and he pushed back without missing a beat, the two of them dissolving into a complete cat fight in seconds. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Impulse looking pleased. Pearl caught his moment of distraction, shoving her hand over his face with a short bark of laughter. Mumbo fell back on Impulse with a yelp, only for Grian to lunge past him onto Pearl, sending the both of them tumbling over the edge.

Grian didn’t miss a beat before teleporting back to Scar’s side, striding forward with great bravado, “I saved you, Mumbo! Be grateful!”

Mumbo rolled his eyes, “My knight in shining armor are you?”

“If you want to call me that, sure!” Grian happily took Pearl’s place beside him, looking quite pleased with himself.

“Ugh! Grian! You know I can’t see you in the water, how was I supposed to know you’d left?” Pearl said, appearing at Scar’s side. She laughed, eyes softening, “And you stole my seat.”

“You weren’t appreciating it enough.” Grian only caught Mumbo’s eye for a moment before both of them were distracted by Cleo’s call.

“Look, it’s right over there. Try not to crash on the spiky rocks, they’re hard to see through all the ominous, ever-present fog.”

“This ‘The Haunted Island’ is quite on brand, isn’t it?” Scar huffed, adjusting his grip on the wheel.

“Oh, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. They’ve also got haunting wails, cold breezes that send shivers down your spine, all of the good stuff! These guys have a reputation to uphold after all.”

All four ghosts stared, frozen in place. And then, almost all at once, they stood up to get a better look, clambering over each other. Mumbo felt Grian crawl onto his shoulders, and then felt Pearl scramble up Grian. Impulse floated beside them with an amused, but exasperated look.

“Where the hell are we going?” Pearl leaned forward, causing Grian to squeak and Scar to scream. Cleo was the first to turn around, delight coloring her face.

“Oh, look at that, you guys are adorable! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!”

[sugdenlovesdingle]

Austin TX First Responders Week (AO3)

Written for @tarlosweeklyprompts March word of the day prompt: Partner

Owen sighed. “TK, I’m giving you the opportunity to moon over your husband and get paid to do it.” “I don’t moon.” TK rolled his eyes.

or

TK and Carlos have to give a talk about their jobs at a school for Austin's first responders week.

---

A/N: yes March is over but I'm just going to keep working on these prompts until I finish all 31 of them. It might not "count" for the challenge anymore but - details. I'll finish them all - eventually.

---

“TK, can you come up to my office please?” Owen asked, not waiting for a reply but turning around back to his office.

“What’s going on?” TK asked, getting up from his seat in the lounge. “Dad?”

“How are you in trouble already? You haven’t even been back a week after your honeymoon.” Nancy commented.

“Yeah, this has to be a new record, not even I’ve gotten written up less than a week after time off.” Marjan teased.

“I’m not in trouble! I didn’t do anything! At least I don’t think so… And it would be captain Vega yelling at me, wouldn’t it?”

“So it’s even worse. Captain Vega went to your dad.”

“Do you think he’s getting grounded?” Nancy asked her, the two barely containing their laughter.

“Oh yeah. No phone and video games. No dessert after dinner.” Marjan continued.

“No boyfriends!”

The two women burst out laughing and TK rolled his eyes at them.

“Remind me why I’m friends with you two again?” He asked, making his way up to his dad’s office.

“Close the door please.” Owen said when he heard TK come in. He had his back to the door and was unpacking something from a box.

“What’s going on? Am I in trouble?”

“No, no, of course not.” Owen turned around holding up a paramedic’s uniform shirt. “This is my belated wedding gift to you. It was meant to be here on your wedding day but there was a delay because they messed up the paperwork.”

“A uniform?”

“A uniform with your new name on it.” Owen handed him the shirt and pointed out the name patch sewn onto it. “Paramedic Reyes - Strand.”

TK smiled.

“Thanks dad but you didn’t have to do that. I’m fine just wearing this one until we all get new ones.”

“Nonsense. You deserve to have your full name on your uniform.” Owen told him. “And it’ll look good for your first responders week talk.”

“My what now?”

“It was decided during your honeymoon ok? I didn’t want to bother you with work while you were… living it up as newlyweds.” Owen rambled. “And it wasn’t my decision.”

“Dad… what was?”

Owen sat down on the edge of his desk.

“Next week is first responders week at all Austin schools. The department has agreed to have some of our people go to schools for fire safety talks and to talk to kids about our jobs.”

“Some… including me?”

“Yes.”

“Come on dad, those kids don’t want to see me, they want Marj. They want Firefox.”

“Marjan and Paul are going too. To another school. I have a schedule so I’m never without the entire crew if I need them.” Owen explained.

TK sighed.

“So I guess I’m going with Nancy then? Or captain Vega too?”

“No, Nancy is going with Tommy.”

“Who am I going with then? You?”

“No, I’m going with Judd. Captain and future captain.”

“Right. Who am I going with then?”

“Carlos.”

“What? Why?”

“I thought that one was obvious.”

“No… I’m married to Carlos, I don’t work with him. AFD and APD don’t work together. Not really.”

“We do as first responders. APD is almost always on scene too when we get called somewhere.”

TK gave a non-committal grunt.

“So why am I going with Carlos? Why not Nancy? Or Mateo. Or anyone from here? Was it your idea?”

Owen sighed.

“TK, I’m giving you the opportunity to moon over your husband and get paid to do it.”

“I don’t moon.” TK rolled his eyes.

“Either way, Wednesday you get to spend an extra morning with your husband and talk to some middle schoolers about your jobs.” Owen said, handing him the box with his new spare uniforms. “The school will be happy, AFD brass will be happy, Carlos’ sergeant will be happy, you guys will be happy, everybody happy.” He gently steered TK towards the door. “I’ve got paperwork to catch up on. Are we still on for dinner tomorrow?”

“Yeah, Carlos has already planned it all out.” TK replied, semi annoyed about his dad dismissing him.

He went to his locker to put his new uniforms away and change into one with his married name on it. Annoyed as he was, he did want to wear his husband’s name on his chest.

He snapped a quick selfie and sent it to Carlos, not expecting a reply because he knew he’d be working.

Only surprisingly his phone rang not even a minute later. He glanced at the screen and smiled seeing Carlos’ face smiling back at him from the beach where they’d spent most of their honeymoon.

“Hey husband.” He answered. “Didn’t expect you to be free to call.”

“I always make time for my husband.” Carlos replied and TK could hear the smile in his voice. “That uniform looks good on you.”

“Yeah? You approve?”

“Yeah, especially the name tag.”

TK laughed a little.

“My dad’s idea of a wedding present. Though I’m not complaining. I kind of like wearing your name.”

He knew he was being a sap but he didn’t care. They only got married a few weeks ago, he was allowed to be a sap.

“Yeah? I like wearing yours. I got my new tags too.”

“You did? I thought they’d told you it wouldn’t be possible until the new year?”

“They did… but things change I suppose.” Carlos replied. “I just had a meeting with my sergeant. About Austin first responders week.”

“Yeah, I had the same talk with my dad. They only paired us up because we’re married.”

“Is that so bad? Are you sick of me already?” Carlos joked.

“Never.” TK vowed. “You promised me forever, remember? I’m going to keep you to that.”

“It’ll be the easiest promise I’ll ever keep.” Carlos told him. “And getting to spend some more time with you while you’re awake is never a bad thing.”

“My dad said he was going to pay me to moon over you.” TK told him and Carlos laughed.

“My sergeant put it slightly different. He said it would be setting a good example for the kids and show them they can be anything they want no matter what their sexuality might be.”

TK considered his words for a moment.

“I hadn’t thought of it like that yet.” He admitted. “But I guess I don’t mind partnering up with you to set an example for a bunch of 11 year olds.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“I guess I kind of love you too.” TK grinned. “Are you coming here for lunch?”

“I’ll try.” Carlos promised, and they ended the call after exchanging I love yous.

That Wednesday, Carlos picked TK up in his cruiser, ignoring the teasing from the rest of the crew about going straight to school and back, and no parking.

“What were you like in middle school?” TK asked as they drove to the school. “And remember, if you won’t tell me I’ll ask your mom.”

Carlos chuckled.

“You know she’ll be more than happy to show you the pictures.” He paused to think. “I don’t know. I wasn’t much of anything really. I didn’t fit in with the groups… I just… was kind of… there. I think that’s around the time I became friends with Iris. What about you?”

“Middle school was my grand return to public school after Hebrew school. I tried to become popular by telling everyone my dad was a firefighter. It kind of worked. For a while. Though I was mostly friends with the kids of my dad’s crew members.” He shrugged. “And my mom met Enzo around that time.”

“So you always were the popular kid huh?” Carlos teased as they pulled up to the school.

“I had a dad with a cool job.” TK corrected him. “I guess that’s one of the reasons I went into firefighting too."

They got out of the car and walked into the school, almost automatically lacing their fingers together.

The janitor greeted them and showed them the way to the classroom that was expecting them.

“Ready babe?” Carlos asked, raising his hand to knock. TK nodded and straightened his uniform.

Carlos knocked and a friendly looking woman of around their age opened the door and invited them in.

The two men shared a look and let go of each other’s hand. They might be there as LGBT+ poster boys for AFD and APD, but walking into an unfamiliar environment hand in hand was a whole other thing.

“Welcome to our class, officer Reyes–Strand and paramedic Reyes-Strand.” The teacher greeted them and didn’t seem to react to their names. “I’m miss Collins. Do you have a program prepared?”

“We do.” TK replied. “But I thought we could go off book a little and just take some questions. I’m TK, and this is Carlos by the way.” He motioned at himself and Carlos. “Does anyone have any questions for us?”

A few kids started yelling until Carlos held up his hands.

“Guys, raise your hand, yeah?” he said in what TK called his officer Reyes voice. A few kids raised their hand. “If your question is if I’ve ever shot anyone, you can put your hand down, because while the answer is yes, I’m not going to elaborate on that. Discharging your service weapon at a person is a serious matter and not something to brag about.”

“He’s usually more fun than this.” TK joked and pointed at a kid in the back row. “You in the Pokémon hoodie, what’s your question?”

“Why do you have the same name?”

“Because we’re married.” Carlos answered him, still very much in cop mode.

“To each other.” TK clarified, holding up his hand to show off his ring and grabbing Carlos’ hand to show his. “We got married a few weeks ago actually. This is only our second week back at work after our honeymoon.”

“Congratulations.” Miss Collins said and gave them a friendly smile. “We’re honoured that you chose to come talk to us this soon after your big day.”

“Thank you. It’s our pleasure, ma’am.” Carlos replied, still overly polite but sounding a little more like himself.

“So you’re gay?” The kid from before asked and a few others snickered.

“Yup.” TK said, popping the p. “And so is he, if that was your next question.” He nodded at Carlos.

“Are you allowed to be gay and be a cop?” another boy asked.

“Obviously. Or I wouldn’t be here.” Carlos replied. “Who I’m married to has nothing to do with my ability to do my job.”

A few more kids asked about being gay and being a first responder, with questions varying from their co-workers’ reactions “They’ve known from day one, and when we got engaged they only argued over who would be best man or woman at our wedding.” to whether or not they would be allowed to walk in the pride parade in uniform. “Probably. But I don’t plan to find out because I’m not planning on working at Pride, I just want to have some fun with my husband and my friends.”

When miss Collins steered the conversation back to their jobs, they soon got questions about the scariest/coolest/funniest/hardest cases they’d ever worked.

TK was absolutely delighted to talk about the woman who had ingested worms that had grown inside of her and started to come out via her nose and mouth, the guy who had swallowed a frog, the time they’d rescued someone from a porta-potty, and the time he’d pulled a lizard out of a guy’s leg.

“And he took that lizard home with him.” Carlos told the class. “And then it escaped. There was a flesh eating lizard on the loose in our house.”

“What did you do with it?” a girl asked

“We found him and released him back into the wild.” TK explained.

“Where he belongs.” Carlos added.

“Can you tell us something about cases you’ve worked on officer?” Miss Collins asked Carlos.

“Well… nothing as exciting as a flesh eating lizard I’m afraid.”

“He’s being humble.” TK interrupted. “He helped find and rescue a girl that had been abducted from her house. He found her and brought her back to her parents.”

“Technically that wasn’t even my job.” Carlos pointed out.

“True. He helped find that girl just because he cares so much.” TK said and patted Carlos’ chest, resting his hand over his heart for a few seconds.

Carlos smiled at him and briefly seemed to forget where he was when he gave TK’s hand a squeeze.

“Any other questions?” he turned back to the class, more Carlos and less officer Reyes with every passing minute.

He indulged kids who came up with hypothetical crimes and with TK as assistant, showed them how to incapacitate a suspect, as well as giving them some tips on how to free yourself from someone’s grip.

TK was happy to sit back and watch the kids hang on Carlos’ every word.

“But police work isn’t always like this.” Carlos said, wrapping up his talk. “A lot of the time it’s paperwork. Typing reports, filling in forms, that kind of thing.”

“And eating donuts?” The boy in the Pokémon hoodie asked and the class laughed.

“I actually prefer cronuts.” Carlos said with a grin.

“Alright that’s all we’ve got time for today, thank you so much for making time for us.” Miss Collins said, getting up from her seat.

“No problem.” TK replied. “And if you guys ever want to know more about firefighting or being a paramedic, feel free to come by Station 126. That’s where we work.”

“He does, I don’t.” Carlos clarified. “And make sure to ask your parents if it’s ok. And don’t skip school to go.”

“You kind of do work there, babe. You’re there for lunch more often than at the precinct.” TK pointed out, not even realising he’d slipped in the pet name until a few girls giggled. “What? I’m allowed to call him babe. That’s my right as his husband.” He slipped his arm around Carlos’ waist.

They said goodbye to the class and got back into Carlos’ cruiser.

“You were really good with those kids.” TK commented.

“The perks of having a lot of younger cousins I suppose.” Carlos shrugged, buckling his seatbelt. “Do you want to head back to the station for lunch or go somewhere downtown?”

“Officer Reyes, are you asking me on a lunch date?” TK joked, laughing when Carlos rolled his eyes at him. “Let’s go get tacos from that food truck by the park.”

“Sounds good.” Carlos replied and started the car, pulling out of the school parking lot, muttering some Spanish curse under his breath when someone cut him off.

TK smiled and sat back, happy to let his mind wander for the short while it would take to get to the taco place.

He imagined a future, maybe a few years from now, where it wouldn’t be just the two of them going out for lunch or coming home after a long day. A future where Carlos’ beloved Camaro might have to make way for something with room for a car seat and they’d have to look for a place with an extra bedroom. Or two.

[gmanwhore]

Well better get this ramble over with sorry if it sucks I am tired as fuck. Anyways this is my au where I assign all the main HLVRAI characters Will Wood songs and give them even more trauma. This will make no sense I can't explain it properly help.

Small guide:

Plot first

Character roles

Character descriptions

Tags for people to see this: @benreyplushie @catbitsysinteractsxd @breakcoreboxcat @pigeonwheel

Ok so like Gordon left the game, but all the characters were still there. The world hadn't shut off for some reason. They were all left stranded in a dead storyline. It was decided that they would simply....build a new Gordon. Of course, this new Gordon is not quite right, but no one knows how yet. They all try to move on.

We now zoom to the future. The Science Team all live in a sort of town together, but it's no longer going well. In the beginning everyone had gotten along well, but because they are trying to progress a story without a main character they are literally breaking their universe, and that is taking a toll on everyone. The characters are pretty much decaying as they try to continue their own story.

Gman is technically running the town, but due to the breakdown he has hidden himself away from everyone else to avoid the guilt of being the one to suggest this. He hadn't meant for everyone to decay, he hadn't known that insanity of this level was a side effect of forcing a storyline. He's slowly losing the ability to talk anyways. Because of his guilt it has gotten to the point where no one is allowed to visit his room but Tommy, and even then Gman can't stand it because of the guilt.

Coomer has stepped up as leader of the little community, and he seems fairly normal, barring the fact his flashes of self awareness are much more frequent and are slowly causing permanent damage to Coomer. He is nearing the point of no return, when he will won't be able to close his eyes to the truth anymore. Of course, how he acts when aware is unfortunately much more similar to the Coomer clones scene then any other time. He desperately wants to leave, and now he has the added bonus of not wanting to die of his mind being wrenched apart. Because of the struggle he has had trouble with interacting with the rest of the Science Team, and he's grown a bit more distanced.

Benrey is still upset he was the villian. He can't get over the fact that he died, that who he thought were his friends killed him. Even if he knew it was coming it still hurts. He's actually the least affected by the mass breakdown. Sometimes he will actually make it worse for people. (he was the first to be banned from seeing Gman after giving him a morality crisis) Benrey mostly just doesn't care anymore. Since the story is over he doesn't have to fit the role of a villian anymore but it's all he knows so he's going to lean into it. He does try to be nice, but it usually backfires.

Bubby literally doesn't care. He's let the breakdown fully consume him, and accepted the fact that this is how it will be. He's actually kind of enjoying it, as now his odd behavior isn't questioned. He also just leaned really heavily into the mad scientist trope. He's currently trying to build a rocket so he can finally see the stars like he's always wanted too.

Tommy is trying to help everyone. He knows this whole situation is hurting everyone, and he just wants them all to be happy. Everyone is glad to have his help, but most people are a little too eager to have someone who is willing to help them in any way possible. Tommy has become a caretaker for everyone, and it's beginning to take a mental toll on his because he can't fix anything and that makes every effort to help people just pointless because nothing will change.

Gordon knows that he is just a copy of someone else. He is keenly aware of this, actually, and Benrey never wastes an opportunity to remind him. He doesn't even know who he's based on because everyone explains Gordon differently so if he tried to be all of them he'd end up contradicting himself which he doesn't want. He's just suffering at this point.

Aight so like...they look different in the au and I leaned wayyyy into puppet imagery so slay. Also I just want to say the black liquid is a physical representation on mental decay. Mhm I am so cool and slay.

Gman

Song; Thermodynamic Lawyer esq G.F.D

Description: Gman looks a lot more like a ventriloquist dummy then anything. His face is too smooth, and his mouth goes up and down instead of opening. There is a large crack in his mouth that allows something dark and sticky to ooze out. His suit is no longer blue, it is the hot pink and black checked pattern of a glitch.

Coomer

Song: Suburbia Overture/Welcome to Mary Bell Township!/Vampire Culture/Love Me, Normally

Appearance: Coomer's eyes are now permantly lime green, and constantly spinning. He had strings, but they are quite obviously broken and drag on the ground. His eyes leak that same dark substance. When his personality shifts, his head cracks open and falls in half just slightly.

Benrey

Song: Laplace's Angel (Hurt People? Hurt People!)

Description: Benrey looks the same, except instead of his uniform being blue it is golden and glowing. He also has a halo. Half of his skull is exposed, and he has bullet holes all over him seeping the dark substance. He still has strings, and they seem to be attached to something above him though what that something is no one knows.

Bubby

Song: 2econd 2ight 2eer (That Was Fun, Goodbye!)

Description: Bubby has gained a third eye, it's iris is cyan like his text colour. His arms up to his elbows are blacked and charred, but still usable. All the clothes he wears are torn or shredded but not in complete disrepair, it seems almost artistic. He will occasionally leave wet black hand prints on things.

Tommy

Song: Skeleton Appreciation Day in Vestal NY.

Description: Tommy is missing an eye, and while it's mostly covered up with his shirt he is missing the skin and muscles from his chest. The lost eye had been replace with a button. Parts of his skeleton are visible at times, but the spots seem to move around his body at random. The gaps in his flesh ooze the black liquid.

Gordon (Sunshine)

Song: Dr. Sunshine Is Dead

Description: He appears to be made of fabric, unlike everyone else who either has a wooden or plastic appearance. His right arm is mangled beyond repair. He wears something akin to an HEV suit, but it looks more like pajamas then armour. His right eye is yellow, and his left eye is blue. His hair cannot be taken down from the ponytail, like a doll's hair that has been glued there. He lacks the black ooze.

[firespirited]

Another day where you got a lot done but your brain disagrees because one or two things are unfinished. I would like admin privileges on this brain to override irrational "can't rest, we're not done" anxiety. But who am I kidding, I'd use that access to cut off notifications from several vital, if buggy, nerves not to mention disable social anxiety that keeps the hyper honesty in check =p

Talia is demonstrating her pointer ability : it means you have 0.5 seconds before she chomps down on whatever disgusting thing activated the magic point paw - it's never not nasty. The weather said 21C and as soon as i saw that sky, I knew that was a lie: felt like 28. Big blue sky with no hint of clouds means the upcoming week is going to be beastly. Any non local plants will be dust in ten days. Now, Olive trees are built with a silver topside to their leaves, it's almost dazzling from above. It's an excellent way to keep sun away from any dew they collect on the underside.

Sis brought round a big box of our shared barbie and pullip stuff, some of it dating back to 25+ years ago. She was finally ready to choose her faves and let some go. The Barbie hair salon with no base that I built a wooden platform for had gone a patchy bright salmony orange. I fell in love with that playset at a street sale because a swivel chair, even if it's a hairdressing chair, is the height of drama. The hair salon became an office/command center.

Among the things I kept was a knitted dress and shawl set I bought the year I turned 14. "Way too old" for Barbies and mostly just making sets and prepping characters for younger kids but also a small area where I could smuggle in some off-limits glamour and girly dreams of little black dresses during my baggy sweaters all year round tweens and early teens.

The gal wearing it is a Naturalistas factory head with the neck cut (heat didn't work) on a MTM afra bought from @maleficentmrsofallevil at half the price they go for here. The dress needed a little sewing to repair two snapped yarn strands that'd begun to unravel. It all came together just right. An old treasure with a new head with a friend treasure. Makes me very happy to have something from my actual belated childhood doll play as part of the reclaimed play collection... All 400 of them 😂.

The canicule (heatwave - the etymology of dog days has to do with the dog star) might be the opportunity to start on some of the doll sales/giveaway drawers. Or not, for one I have a bunch of admin and two it's hard to predict when heat can be so draining. Hope you're all doing ok and the weather is seasonal without forcing you indoors and windows closed all day. 💜 Saffy.

[parieha-aaa]

          ❝          .  .  .         those  fuckers  .   c’mon  ,  kiddo  ,  you’ll  be  alright  .  .  .  i  got  ya  .         ❞      the  redhead  was  sitting  down  on  the  floor  with  their  rescue  ,  brushing  white  strands  from  the  child’s  face  as  he  checked  them  over  for  wounds  and  punctures  ,  any  remaining  breaks  in  the  skin  that  were  more  than  superficial  at  worst  .  once  chuuya  had  checked  (  &  rechecked  like  a  worried  mother  )  ,  he  stood  up  to  take  their  victim  by  the  hand  and  pull  the  child  over  his  shoulders,  forcing  himself  to  lean  slightly  forward  and  find  a  balance  between  rocking  completely  forward  or  falling  backwards  .    (    he  tossed  their  doll  ,  a  god  awful  ugly  little  patchwork  doll  ,  to  their  partner  ,  so  he  could  focus  on  carrying  their  target  upstairs  back  to  the  entrance  .   )  that  way  ,  chuuya  didn’t  have  to  worry  about  suddenly  getting  possessed  by  their  ability  --  yumeno’s  was  a  real  piece  of  work  .          (    admittedly  ,  chuuya  paused  to  check  his  phone  .  he’d  sent  the  location  outside  of  yokohama’s  main  district  ,  in  the  sea  of  trees  where  the  country  began  to  reveal  itself  .  it  read  the  current  status  of  the  message  :    SEEN  AT  1:42  AM  .    what  the  fuck  were  they  doing  awake  at  that  kind  of  time  ?  ...  could  be  anything  .  for  chuuya  ,  he  was  smack  dab  in  the  middle  of  his  shift  with  the  port  mafia  &  today  was  that  special  occasion  where  it  took  him  outside  the  typical  borders  .  for  his  new  neutral  friend  ?  who  knew  .  probably  doing  something  stupid  .  or  being  annoying .  shopping  maybe  ?    what  a  pain  in  the  ass  .  )    clearing  vines  with  one  hand  and  a  knife  ,  chuuya  began  the  long  climb  up  the  stairs  with  dazai  ahead  of  him  ,  yapping  endlessly  about  something  or  other  ...   probably  insults  to  his  fucking  outfit  again  ,  as  chuuya  simply  focused  on  listening  to  their  surroundings  .  if  he  didn’t  refocus  ,  he  was  a  liable  to  kill  dazai  as  he  was  to  make  this  rescue  a  success  .   the  kid’s  breathing  ,  the  nature  outside  ,  the  wind  ,  the  trees    ...    nightlife  .  calm  as  ever  for  now  .  there  wasn’t  a  single  alarming  sound  ,  nothing  other  than  the  steps  the  two  were  taking  up  the  staircase  &   back  into  observable  view  .   if  that  unit  outside  was  still  active  ,  they’d  report  that  soukoku  had  finished  the  job  with  immaculate  results  .  yeah  ,  okay  ,  maybe  a  treaty  between  the  port  mafia  &  armed  detective  agency  was  the  only  thing  saving  dazai  from  his  wrath  right  now  .  this  was  it  though  ,  as  soon  as  this  mission  was  over  ,  he  was  going  to  find  the  opportunity  to  punt  dazai  off  a  fucking  cliff  somewhere  and  give  him  his  stupid  suicide  .  granted :  it’s  a  murder  -  suicide ...    but  suicide  all  the  same  .   one  more  word  about  his  choice  in  outfit  and  that’s  it  ,  he’s  kicking  dazai  at  the  fucking  moon  .  you  know  ?  he’d  rather  deal  with  mr  neutral  .  at  least  that  guy  had  fucking  taste  and  knew  when  to  shut  the  fuck  up  instead  of  merrily  digging  his  grave  without  a  single  warning  bell  in  earshot   --  which  is  exactly  what  chuuya  knew  he  was  doing  .    /    @lureri​   

[moonlit-stay]

I just came across a clip from a recent fansign event of a STAY asking Chan about Channie's Room.

In response to the question the STAY asked him, he told them "I don't do Channie's Room anymore, so um..." and then briefly explained to the STAY that he will not be doing Channie's Room anymore because "the company said no".

I cannot even begin to explain the pain I feel in my heart. Watching that clip was so fucking devastating.

Chan has done Channie's Room for us every week without fail (unless he straight up could not, but he always made up for it) for years. Before V-Live was terminated, each of the members had their own reoccurring series, and for Chan it was Channie's Room. Why now, after all these years he's suddenly not allowed to do it anymore, is a question I doubt even the company themselves could answer.

I have been so eagerly awaiting that tiny little notification to click on for months, I never thought this would be what happened instead.

I miss hearing him tell us about what game he's been playing these days or giving us updates on games he's told us about previously. I miss watching him create songs on the spot and seeing how invested he gets in his craft. I miss listening to music with him and doing our own little listening parties for every comeback. I miss listening to his behind stories and him letting us listen to the guide and demo versions of their songs. I miss him telling us the line distribution of every song we asked about with zero hesitation. I miss seeing the sparkle and love in his eyes whenever he had a special guest. I miss all the random ideas that he would come up with to do for Channie's Room. I miss him reading out pick-up lines and dishing them out all the same. I miss listening to him talk about his friends, both in the industry and back home in Australia. I miss listening to him talk about his family and the kids. I miss him shyly talking about Ryan Reynolds and anyone else he looks up to. I miss the obnoxiously colored wall of his studio and the black couch that almost always had a spotify pillow propped up in the corner of the couch and a black hoodie of some sort. I miss staring at his desk chair as the chosen intro song plays in the background while we wait for him to come into frame. I miss seeing his shy smile as he sits down and looks at us with so much love in his eyes. I miss hearing his shy little "hi" after he slowly turned down the intro song. I miss our big hugs and his cute little wink and ending pose. I miss his adorable little giggles and his beautiful smile. I miss hearing his "thank you STAYs, thank you baby STAYs, and I will see you next time..."

Most of all, I just miss him.

Channie's Room was my safe place. He always managed to go live when I needed him most and these past few months have been rough for me. Knowing that I won't have that safe place anymore feels like someone ripped my heart out of my chest and has left me stranded in an ocean of darkness.

I have never liked the company, but this is truly something I will never, ever forgive them for. You have taken so much from us and unless you give it back, there is nothing you can do to make up for it or fill the void this loss has created.

I am so sorry to the baby STAYs that were never given the opportunity to experience how special Channie's Room was.

[hannalizad]

Hi! My name is Hanna Liza S. Datul, but you can call me Lyka for short. Living my best life at 17 in Larion Bajo Tuguegarao City. I am a jolly, friendly, a girl who appreciate little things and understanding person. I have 4 beautiful sisters and 4 handsome brothers which help me and made my childhood happy. My father’s name is Ben Datul while my mother’s name is Eva Datul.

Well, first and foremost I really love watching Korean dramas like Crash landing on you, Weightlifting fairy, Itaewon class, Scarlet heart and many more. I really love watching Korean dramas because I find myself enjoying every time I’m watching. Naturally, my favorite won’t be missed I am addicted to kpop music too, every time I’m listening some kpop songs it made me feel happy and my number one comfort zone. I also love having a quality time with my family and friends. Going out with my friends, chikahan here, chikahan there. I’m happy with my friends because they are always there if I’m not okay.

As well as my family, they help me when I have a problem and they serve as my strength, that’s why I love them so much throughout my life. To my dear parents, thank you for your tireless support. I was lucky because you were my parents. To my friends at church, they are also the ones who are always with me, ready to listen to my problems in life. I also love praising and worshipping God, because I am grateful for his blessings that have been given to me, as well as for guiding me and my family.

Where do I see myself 10 years from now? Was my learning in SPUP vital to where I’m leading to?

-The way I see myself ten years ahead of now is not something I often think about. There is a saying that time flies so fast without noticing it. To tell you the truth, it scares me a little to know that in one short decade I will be twenty-seven years old, and that my years of youth are coming to an end. One thing I’m certain of, is that if God gives me the opportunity to get that age, I will make the most of my years and put all my effort to become a successful, happy woman. Yes, my learning in SPUP will play a vital role on the place that I’m leading to. I know here at SPUP we still have a lot to learn, because I know we’ve just started but we still have more things to learn.

Was STEM the best choice after all?

-Yes, I choose STEM even though I know it’s hard. And I know that it is the best strand to help me get ready on my future course. I am also inquisitive and curious about the world, which means it a perfect strand for me. STEM, which stands for Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math.

What course will you take in college and why?

-I will be taking medical technology (MedTech) as my course in college. I choose this course because I was influenced by it since I was young and it’s my interest and I know that when I became a successful medical technologist, I would play a vital role in my country and help the people in need of proper diagnosis.

[herjourney08]

Introducing Zyra: My Story and What’s to Come

Hello everyone,

My name is Zyra, and I'm overjoyed to be a part of this active community! I have a blog where I mostly share stories about my daily life and adventure. By sharing my experiences, observations, and life lessons on my blog, I hope to uplift and encourage others. 👋🏻

🧠 : The question "Where do you see yourself in 10 years?" is one that I get asked a lot.I'm pleased to offer my viewpoint, and this is a question that frequently inspires thoughtful contemplation. I envision myself having successfully balanced my personal and professional goals in ten years. Being a doctor is my main objective; this has always been a dream of mine. I'm determined to succeed in my medical career while finding time for my family, friends, and personal interests. I wouldn't be the person I am now without the love and support of my family, who have been a pillar of my support system. I believe that keeping this balance is essential since it enables me to advance professionally and treasure the most important moments in my personal life.

⚜️ : I can't help but acknowledge the important part St. Paul University Philippines (SPUP) has played in my life. The basis for my current route was laid throughout my time at SPUP. In addition to theoretical instruction, I also gained real-world experience there, which was really beneficial to my growth. I acquired fundamental knowledge and skills from the SPUP courses that I use on a daily basis. These experiences have been really helpful to me in my profession in overcoming obstacles and finding effective solutions. The relationships I formed with mentors and peers at SPUP have also been quite beneficial. These connections have helped me develop and have given me opportunities that have greatly influenced the course of my career. My ambitions and future preparation have been greatly aided by the knowledge and experiences I received from SPUP.

📚 : Selecting the STEM strand was among my best choices during my academic career. My growth has been significantly impacted by this choice. I have a strong interest in problem-solving and innovation, and the STEM program at SPUP offered an in-depth investigation of science, technology, engineering, and mathematics. The curriculum focused on applying theoretical ideas to real-world, practical situations in addition to teaching students about them. I gained knowledge on how to think critically, work well in a team, and manage my time well—skills that have been extremely helpful in both my personal and professional life. With difficult challenges and rigorous tasks, the STEM strand was a difficult trip, but it was satisfying to overcome these obstacles with the help of my loved ones.

🩺 : Going forward, medical technology (MedTech) is the college course I have always been most interested in taking. I have always had a strong desire to help people and have always found the intricacies of the human body to be fascinating, so I decided to pursue a medical degree. I understood from an early age that I wanted to have a significant influence in the healthcare industry. My desire to make a positive impact on people's lives and my hobbies seemed to be best combined when I studied medicine. My father's heart condition served as the inspiration for my decision to specialize in cardiology, so it was also a very personal decision. My goal is to improve his life and the lives of those who are dealing with comparable health issues by giving him the assistance and attention he requires.

I'm done talking about it for now! I honestly can't wait to get in touch with other bloggers and have deep discussions about the things we have in common. I'm excited to share my knowledge, absorb from your experiences, and be a part of this amazing community. I am grateful for everyone's kind welcome! 😊🫶🏻