#an event you grew up going to; an activity everyone did growing up

[frogsare-friends]

no bc the european superiority complex is something that needs to be studied

[gguk-n]

Chapter 1- The Arrangement

Arranged For Love (Carlos Sainz Jr x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Everything seemed to be going well for Y/N until it doesn't. Will this life altering event bring her closer to her family. Will this life altering event introduce her to Carlos?

The reader is Y/N, other than that everyone has a name

Y/N was majoring in Business; just like her grandma, Anika Baker had wanted. "You're smart, you're rational and the best of all you're kind" she would tell her grand daughter growing up. That's why she was currently studying to maybe take over her family business when she grew up.

She grew up in a matriarchy, where after the untimely death of her grandfather; her grandmother took the lead and brought the company to where it is now. Eventually, she did step back and let her son, Ivan and daughter-in-law, Rose Aguirre handle it. That was when Y/N was born. The first born of their family, she was so pampered; she got whatever she wanted. She had her dad wrapped around her little pudgy finger.

So, when her parents were away, their grandmother raised her and her siblings. She fed them, helped them with their homework and best of all, told them stories of kings and dragons. Y/N would sit intently while her grandmother would massage her feet after a tiring day at school or give her a head massage when it ached. Y/N would always love spending time with her, one way or another.

Y/N was off too college as soon as she turned 18. She finally got to be back home after 2 years for longer than a few weeks; the reason wasn't something to be happy about since a virus had spread across the world and was killing people at an alarming rate. Which meant school, colleges, offices had all shut down and were working from home. When she hugged her grandma for the first time in 6 months; "You've gotten thinner since the last time I saw you" she squinted her eyes at her grandma. "You know how it is with age, I don't have the appetite anymore" her grandmother reasoned. "Well, you should still eat. I'm gonna make sure you gain weight before I leave" Y/N said determined. "Sure, sweetheart" she laughed. "Let's have food. It's nice to have everyone back home, together for once" she emphasised. Y/N held her grandmother's hand as they walked to the dining table for lunch.

A month or so after she was back, her grandmother had started feeling ill. She wouldn't be able to hold down any food and she had been complaining of a stomach ache. With COVID restrictions, getting an appointment was extremely difficult. After a week or so, thankfully, her dad was now at the doctor's office with his mother. The kids were at home, dotting it down to the regular stomach flu which was taking longer than usual to clear.

What came as a surprise to the family, after a couple tests was that, the matriarch of the house was suffering from stomach cancer. Couple more tests later, and it said that it had advanced quite a bit having spread all over the body. The doctors weren't sure what they could do other than ease her pain. Everyone was crying in their rooms while trying to hold a tough facade in front of Anika, so as to not worry her.

At breakfast, a few days after the diagnosis. "You lot are all cry babies. It's just cancer. I'll get the treatment and be well" Anika smiled. Everyone hoped what she was saying was true. But as the treatments started; things started to get worse for her. The medicines were taking a toll on her. Their once active grandmother was reduced to bathroom runs and staying put in her bed. She barely had the energy to eat on her own.

The matriarch's children were sad and couldn't help but cry since they couldn't do much for their mother other than watch. The grandkids would think of ways to make food exciting for their grandmother. The whole family had come together. They were all living together to care for their ailing mother. "I like this very much" Anika told Y/N. "What do you like, grandma?" she asked. "Having all my children here, fretting over me" she said looking at her 2 children fondly. Y/N smiled, "They always fret over you, for as long as I can remember" she replied. "Hmm...but this feel different...it feels nice" she hummed.

They had a scare a few months later; Anika's health had deteriorated suddenly and needed hospitalisation. When she was admitted in the hospital; everyone went to visit her in turns. "I wish I got to see at least one of my grandkids get married" she said barely above a whisper. She beckoned Y/N forward, "Darling, you're the oldest. You're the smartest. You always listen to your grandma don't you" she cooed. "Grandma, I don't like where this is going." she mumbled. "I know it is too much to ask for but why don't you get married. I'll find you a nice man" she reasoned. "Grandma, no. I'm only 20. I'm not getting married, not yet anyways." she whined. "ugh! I love you grandma, I really do but I don't have any plans of getting married, yet" she said pulling away from her grandma. "I'm going home. I hope you get well soon" she stormed off.

Y/N was fuming, she got that her grandma was sick and wanted to see major milestones in her grandkids lives and she wanted to share her happiness with her too but that doesn't mean she will throw her own granddaughter under the bus. She hated the fact that it was always her who would have to do as the elders told her to. Why couldn't it be her siblings or her cousins for once? Why did she have to get a married now? She has so much she wants to achieve, she can't be tied down just yet. People her age barely even remembered the name of the person they last slept with and she should get married; her grandma had gone crazy, she thought.

While Y/N was losing her mind because her grandma wanted her married; Carlos Sainz Junior was losing his mind since he got a contract with Ferrari next year.

In the world of Formula One, there was a change in tide. Sebastian Vettel would no longer be driving for Ferrari in the upcoming season; instead he was being replaced with an up and coming driving Carlos Sainz who was currently driving for McLaren. COVID had put a damper on things; but nothing could contain Carlos's excitement. He would be driving in red next year, something almost every driver had dreamt of when they dreamt of Formula One.

Carlos was your typical Formula One driver, he asked his father for guidance since he was a Rally Champion and looked up to some great drivers as inspiration. He had big plans; plan of winning his first race, plans of winning a championship title, plans of racing until he was 60 but none of those plans involved getting married any time soon. He couldn't imagine himself settling down, just yet even though his sister was planning on getting married herself. He had a long way to go; the biggest obstacle, he wasn't dating anyone as of yet so obviously marriage was off the table for the foreseeable future.

Now, there's a saying, sickness brings the lost together. That's exactly what had happened. Carlos senior had grown up with a family, albeit only for a few years of his childhood but those were formative years and he had spent a lot of his time with the Kastner family. They were his neighbours and even after they had moved away, they had still stayed in touch. He wouldn't forget their kindness and hospitality. For the few years that they were around he was incharge of making sure the oldest of the Kastner family, Ivan got to and back from school safely.

When Carlos senior found out about the ailing health of Mrs Kastner who would make him delicious food and baby sat them when necessary, he flew in as soon as he could with his family in tow. COVID didn't make it easy to visit the sick but Carlos senior would be damned if he didn't meet or introduce his kids to the woman he talked about. Carlos senior greeted Ivan, "You've aged" he laughed patting his back. "As if you haven't" he clapped back. The two happy to see each other after a very long time apart. "I heard Aunt Anika is sick" Carlos senior spoke. "News travels fast" Ivan chuckled. "Not fast enough since she's been sick for a while and I only found out after she was admitted" Carlos senior pointed out. "Yes, yes, she'll be discharged soon. She's been doing so much better for the past few days" Ivan explained. "That's good to know" Carlos senior sighed. "Can we meet her?" he asked hopeful. "I think she'll be over the moon when she find out you've come. She kept up with all your races" Ivan added. "I'm glad she did. I think it was the combined prayers of my mother and yours that I'm still alive after being this reckless" Carlos senior laughed. "That I will not disagree with" Ivan smiled opening the door to the hospital room where Anika was reading the day's paper. She placed the paper down to see who it was and a smile broke out on her face; "Carlos, darling, how've been? I've missed you" she spoke trying to get up but Carlos senior was already by her side, "Don't get up. I'm right here" he leaned down and hugged her. "I've missed you too." he whispered. She patted his back, "I see you've done well for yourself" she said scanning the faces of the 4 people behind him. He pulled away and introduced his wife and 3 kids to her. "Did he get into rallying just like his father?" she asked shaking Carlos junior's hand. "Worse, he's in Formula One" Carlos senior smiled. "Darling, stay safe. I might have to start praying for one more now" she shook her head. "This is the woman who was best friend's with your grandmother and they love each other too much" Carlos senior announced to his kids. "What team does he race for?" Anika asked Carlos senior drawing his attention. "I'm racing for McLaren now, but I'll be racing for Ferrari next year" Carlos junior replied. "congratulations dear. And Carlos, a bit narcissistic I think to name your kid after you" she laughed.

The atmosphere was lively and bright, everyone was busy catching up with each other and trying to let each other know what was going on with the other.

In all of this, the gears in Anika's head were spinning. If Carlos's son, Carlos was single he would be the right fit for her grand daughter. She had always adored and dotted on Carlos senior growing up, so it would only make sense that she would want a good family to take care of her grand daughter. If there's anything to go by how Carlos senior turned out, Carlos junior would fit right in with their family. She felt giddy thinking about the possibility of merging their two families. She knew if everything went well, they could easily be getting married at the end of the year or the beginning of the next. She just wanted what was good for her grand daughter, having something nice come out of it like a handsome and rich husband was a bonus.

The Sainz would be staying in town for a few days before they would be leaving. Anika had invited them over for dinner once she would be discharged since she couldn't send them away without feeding them herself. It was a day before her discharge and she was sat with both Ivan and Carlos. "Since the two of you are here, there's a proposition I would like to make" she said. The two men sat up straight waiting for Anika to continue. "I might not live long" she began but was cut off by mutual 'nos and you'll live a long life' before she shushed them. "Let's listen to the doctors and I know they are trying their best but we have to be realistic too. If I do live long, I'll get to watch the happiness unfold if don't then I'll at least be a part of some of it." she explained. The two men were very confused with where she was trying to go. "I want to make a proposition like I said, I think it would be great if Carlos's son, Carlos married Ivan's daughter, Y/N. I've always wanted to watch my grand kids get married, this way I can die happy" she finished. Their mouths opened and closed a few times before Carlos spoke, "Aren't they still too young?" he asked. "It's just a suggestion, it's up to you two and them to decided if they'll go through with it. Would I be happy if they got married? Obviously but at the end of the day it'll all up to the kids. I just want what's best for them" Anika said. The two men were thinking. They were stuck. "You two can think about it, maybe we can introduce them to each other at the dinner tomorrow" Anika said hopeful. This was going to be difficult conversation to have for both Carlos and Ivan, they thought.

Taglist- @herexpertcollector @redrevvedup @chaostudee @larastark3107 @jovialpainterunknown @vip-access @sugarvibez @champomiel @inarabee @virazeeee @seonghwaexile @champ15ns @ajthefujoshi @musicheaux @npcmia @marvel-ous-miss-maisie @mochipatch @gleeblegnarp @formula1-motogpfan @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs

[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.

[wordsarelife]

could you write anthony lockwood x reader? he‘s a tease and annoying the reader and she get’s frustrated about his behaviour and starts to ignore him so he tries to make up by making her breakfast every morning.

i got inspired by the scene where lockwood cuts the toast for lucy. It’s literally so sweet.

—king of my heart

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem!reader

summary: there was always this flirty banter between them, without anything ever happening. one day the reader grows tired of it and leaves lockwood to make a choice

warnings: sexual themes, mentions of sex but no smut or anything

note: everyone is grown up, it’s more an AU after the events of the first season

also: please request more!! i’m so thrilled to write!!!

“shit, you look hot” Anthony muttered, when he saw you standing in the doorway. you grew flustered at the compliment and send him a lopsided grin.

“stop looking at me like that or we have to go back home” he teased before he walked up to you and placed a lingering kiss on her your cheek, intensely looking into your eyes before he left you standing alone

the longest you remember your relationship with the agency head had always been like that. you met at training and you were the first person he thought of when starting the agency.

of course you were on board from the very start.

nothing ever actually happened between you two, but Anthony liked to say those things to you, getting you flustered. after some time you started returning the favor, but you actually meant the things you said, you couldn’t say that for him surely. the first time you had done it, you were sure Anthony was at the verge of passing out

“fuck” he had muttered upon your sight “you don’t know half of the things i’d like to do to you”

you had walked up next to him, until he was feeling your breath on the side of his head, standing on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “don’t be shy, baby” then you did as he always did and placed a lingering kiss onto his cheek.

the teasing and flirting was a red string throughout your whole relationship. it didn’t stop after George came along and also not after Lucy joined.

Lucy had often questioned George on the thing you and Anthony had going on. George would always just shrug his shoulders and explain that it was always like that. it didn’t take long for Lucy to grow used to your unusual banter.

it’s not that you didn’t like the things Anthony was saying to you, it actually made the butterflies in your stomach get active even more, but never did something actually happen, not more than a chaste kiss to the cheek.

after some time you grew frustrated. you put so much work in the supposedly relationship with Anthony, you had never pursued anything or anyone else for that matter. at the same time Anthony didn’t seem to grasp onto the concept that you wanted him to do these things to you, that you didn’t want himself from holding back to kiss you.

these mixed signals annoyed you to no end, so one day you finally snapped.

“hey sexy” Anthony leaned in your doorframe watching as you were reading on your bed

“not now, Lockwood” you muttered

the boy raised his eyebrows at the name. you never called him that, you never even called him Anthony. since you guys had met, you had always ever called him tony, or baby, which he found much more endearing and told you to use more often. so it actually became his new nickname

“what?” he asked confused “no baby?”

you rolled your eyes but ignored what he was saying, so he stepped into the room

“i wish i could take off your shirt-“

he stopped when he met your glaring eyes. he thought he was in for scolding, but you just stood up, walking closer

“do it, then” you said

and his breath hitched in his throat. he was used to you entertaining his teasing, but you had never looked so serious while doing so

“w-what?” he exclaimed

“take off my shirt” you stepped even closer, until you were able to grab onto his hands and bring them to the hem of your shirt, like you were instructing him what to do.

“what”

you slowly raised up his hands, that were now gripping onto your shirt, and helped him pull it off your body. this action left you standing in a black bra.

Anthony’s eyes went down to your chest, breathing slowly.

“what is-“ he was still not quite himself, the teasing had always stopped at the verge of undressing each other- well not this time

“what are you gonna do?” you asked slowly “are you gonna take off your shirt? are you gonna sleep with me? or are you about to leave, proving your words to be empty”

“i don’t-“ he muttered, still trying to grasp onto what was happening

“that’s what i thought” you nodded, grabbing your shirt from his hands and pulling it over your head. it was only than that he noticed how dressed up you were.

your make up was perfect and your hair had been curled and styled. he watched as you walked back to your bed, grabbing your bag and pulling out red lipstick, that you put on at the varsity across from him.

“what are you doing?” he asked as his eyes found yours in the mirror

“i’m going out”

“what? why?”

“look” you said stepping next to him “i’m just tired. i’m going to sleep with someone tonight and honestly, i don’t care if it’s you or quill kipps of all people”

his eyes grew big as you left him standing speechless in your room. he only realized what had just happened when he heard the front door close. he rushed down the steps, but as he reached the door he could only watch you drive away in a cab.

“what’s going on?” asked George stepping next to Lockwood

“y/n just left”

“she left? without us? how is she gonna manage-“

“not for a case, George” Lockwood interrupted bitterly

“for- for a date?” George asked slowly, noticing the dark look that had plastered itself onto the other boys features

“fuck” Lockwood growled before he send a kick towards the rapier holder, sending it flying onto the ground

George stepped back to make room for the fuming boy, that was now retracing back to his room. in the mean time, George was joined by Lucy who had sat in the kitchen and was alarmed by the sudden noise.

“what’s going on?” she asked confused

“oh” George muttered, trying to keep in a laugh “y/n left for a date”

“he’s finally getting it?”

“seems like it”

George and Lucy had noticed how you both were utterly in love with each other. while you weren’t holding back on showing it, Lockwood didn’t even seem to realize.

they watched as Lockwood came rushing down the stairs, now wearing his coat. Lucy grabbed onto his arm to hold him back.

“where are you going?” she asked

“to find y/n”

“i don’t think you should” Lucy muttered “i think she gave you a fair chance, and as it seems you made your decision, now leave her be”

Lucy, who had quickly grown to be y/n’s best friend, knew everything about the latter girls feeling. she would often find her friend crying and begging for a reason why Lockwood never seemed to actually like her. she knew that she couldn’t handle the relationship the two were having anymore, but she also knew that y/n just couldn’t give up Anthony that fast, that’s why she didn’t, that’s why she let him make the choice.

“she’s going to sleep with bloody Kipps!” he protested

“what?” muttered George

“i know” said Lucy softly

“you know?” both boys asked. well, George was confused while Lockwood was angry

“and you didn’t talk her out of it?” he bellowed

“no? why would i? y/n’s a grown up, Kipps is a grown up. he’s handsome and funny and-“

“can i stop you right there?” Lockwood muttered while looking like he was about to stab Lucy “you send her out to have sex with- with someone-”

“with someone?” Lucy asked, before she finished the sentence her self “with someone that isn’t you?”

“yes, god-damnit!” Lockwood screamed

“you had your chance, Lockwood” Lucy exclaimed without any sympathy for the boy. she had watched y/n cry too often because of him to still be sympathetic. “and you blew it, end of story. if you don’t want her, than there are lots of others who do. don’t blame this on her, because you’re the one that never did anything about what was going on between you guys”

she grabbed George’s arm and Lockwood watched his friends retreat down to the kitchen. he took of his coat, sighing, tears in his eyes, because Lucy was right. it really was his fault after all

it wasn’t until the early morning that you made your way back into portland row.

you had kept your window open, which was on the side of the house, so you could climb in easily on top of the garbage bins.

you landed onto your bed, but it was only than that you noticed it being occupied by a body. “ow” said body exclaimed when you landed on top of him.

him as in Anthony Lockwood.

“Lockwood?” you whispered, stepping in front of the bed and watching as the boy got up slowly from the mattress.

“holy hell, y/n!” Lockwood spoke “where have you been all night?”

“oh no” you said while taking off your shoes “you’re not getting to yell at me now”

“i’m not— goddamnit!” he muttered, letting his head sink into his hands “i made you breakfast” he pointed at the tray he had brought.

“the tea must be cold by now” you noticed and he nodded

“listen” Lockwood stepped closer to you “i’m actually here, because i wanted to tell you how sorry i am about yesterday” he paused “i- i was an asshole and honestly there’s no real excuse for that, because it took me until yesterday to realize how real this between us was— is!”

“Lockwood” you said but he just shook his head

“i know that you left me a chance and i blew it— totally blew it, and i understand if you’d rather go out and sleep with Kipps for the rest of your life, but—“

you broke of his rambling by shaking your head “i didn’t sleep with Kipps” Lockwood let out a relieved breath “believe me, i was close to it, but then i just couldn’t”

he nodded, glad for your honesty, before he grabbed your hands

“i don’t want to prove my words to be empty ever again” he said “i want to sleep with you, but that’s not it, i want to be with you, all the time, every day. without pointless flirting, i mean, i do want to flirt with you, but for real”

you had to laugh at his rambling and nodded “ditto, baby”

“this part can stay as it is” he smiled upon recognizing the familiar name he had missed so much in the last few hours

“of course” you nodded

“can i take you shirt off, now?” he asked, slowly letting his hands wander to the hem of it.

“obviously” you laughed, before he took it off and pulled you closer to connect your lips in a passionate kiss

[epochofbelief]

Strictly Confidential: Chapter Three

A Modern Feysand AU

She’s a law student turned confidential informant. He’s a federal prosecutor with one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for his white collar crimes. What could go wrong?

Author’s Note: Hiii everyone. Here’s chapter three. I hope it makes sense. Things are beginning to occur. Let me know if you would like to be tagged!!

Masterlist

Three

Feyre got in the car.

There really didn’t seem to be another choice. Rhysand was staring at her through the crack in the window, an odd expression—possibly desperation—on his face. Cassian—Special Agent Claret—stood behind her, checking their surroundings with enough diligence that Feyre truly started to grow uneasy. Was she in danger?

What the hell was going on?

The car’s driver—Special Agent Azriel Lapis—introduced himself to Feyre after she settled into the back seat next to Rhysand. Azriel was “prettier” than both Rhysand and Cassian. In another life he could have been an actor or a poet. Feyre shook Azriel’s hand, stifling her alarm at the scars covering his surprisingly soft hands. Not because she didn’t want to touch them—but because the thought of what had caused them sent a shiver up her spine. What—or who—could possibly have done that to him?

Azriel gave her a swift nod, obviously not one to waste time on things as frivolous as words, before he exited the car in one smooth motion.

Leaving Feyre alone in the back with Rhysand.

The SAs outside took up positions in front of the windows, each facing away from the car, Cassian’s back to Rhys’s window, Azriel to Feyre’s.

“I’m sorry for . . all of this,” Rhysand began, running a hand through his hair. He seemed to do that a lot.

Feyre wasn’t complaining.

She shook her head. “Care to explain?”

Rhysand took a deep breath, holding it in for a moment before he sighed, the air rushing out of him in one swift exhale. Feyre was hardly familiar with Rhys’s expressions and mannerisms, but if forced to hazard a guess, she would say he looked ruffled.

And Rhysand didn’t seem like the type of man who was easily ruffled.

“Rhysand.”

“Please, call me Rhys,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw.

Feyre blinked. “Alright, Rhys,” she said, as he turned the full weight of his gaze upon her. Feyre grew suddenly aware of the state she was in—slightly sweaty, in a pair of old black leggings and an enormous grey and navy Prythian Law sweatshirt. She knew her hair was a wreck—stuck in the messy ponytail she had thrown it into after studying. No makeup.

She shook her head. It didn’t matter what she looked like, did it? Didn’t matter what Rhysand—Rhys—thought of her. She had a boyfriend, didn’t she? And she suspected that whatever Rhysand was about to tell her had nothing to do with the unspoken connection that had formed between them at the networking event. No, the creeping feeling in Feyre’s gut told her that after Rhys said his piece, nothing in her life would ever be the same.

Rhys sat up a little straighter. “As you know, I’m a federal prosecutor for the Eastern District of Erilea.”

“Yes. I do,” Feyre said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

Rhysand smirked, as if he could sense her irritation. “Right. I don’t think I mentioned that I specialize in white collar crime prosecution.”

“You didn’t.” Although Feyre had already discovered this thanks to the hours she had spent stalking Rhys’s LinkedIn page over the past week. She had paid particular attention to his profile picture.

Rhys swallowed. “For the past year, I’ve been investigating a particularly slippery local businessman.”

Feyre waited, one eyebrow raising as Rhys paused, his violet blue eyes watching her very closely.

Rhys continued. “This particular businessman has a sterling reputation. He’s incredibly successful, has excellent connections, and his company is only going to continue to prosper over the next decade at least.

“But I believe—no, I know—that everything he does, everything his company stands for, is a front for illegal activity."

Rhys looked at her, as if expecting some sort of reaction. Feyre pursed her lips.

Rhys continued. "But anytime I try to gather enough evidence to nail him for it, he slips through my fingers. Hours of surveillance, numerous informants, research. Everything I can think of, short of breaking the law myself.

“But I’ve never been able to prove that his business isn’t as innocuous as he would lead everyone to believe.”

Feyre’s brows creased, and she leaned forward. “I’m still waiting for the part where you tell me how this is relevant to me.”

Rhys sucked in a breath, his eyes straying from hers.

“Rhys?”

Rhys blew out the breath, and when he ran out of air, his eyes lifted to hers, pinning her in place.

“The company the businessman operates through is known as Spring Solutions.”

Feyre blinked.

Rhys continued. “And the businessman’s name is Tamlin Spring.”

Feyre began shaking her head, her hand scrabbling for the door handle behind her. “You’re crazy. Tamlin’s business is dedicated to protecting the environment. He travels all over the world advising large companies on how to comply with environmental regulations. And you’re telling me that somehow his business is a front for something … something criminal? You’re crazy,” Feyre said again, about to crack open the door and leave Rhys—and the FBI—far behind her.

Rhys winced. “Please. Just give me five minutes. I wouldn’t have orchestrated all of this if I didn’t truly believe in what I’m saying.”

Feyre hesitated, glancing out the window behind her. Azriel had shifted, now standing right in front of the door. If she tried to open it, she probably wouldn’t be able to get out anyway.

“Two minutes.”

Rhys nodded, launching into an explanation. “Spring Solutions does all of the things you just said. But we have reason to believe that Tamlin charges unusually high prices for his consultations. In return for those high prices, he does in fact bring companies into compliance with environmental laws and regulations… But not before he takes any evidence of their noncompliant material and dumps it somewhere--somewhere he's not supposed to."

Feyre blinked. Rhys was delusional. But still, she asked, “If you know all this, why don’t you just indict him?”

“Knowing something and being able to prove it in court are two entirely different things. You know that.”

Feyre merely raised an eyebrow. “So, you need evidence.”

Rhys gave her a weak smile. “Desperately.”

“So . . .” Feyre trailed off.

Rhys looked at her.

“No,” Feyre said slowly, giving Rhys an incredulous look. “No, no, no, and no.”

“Feyre. . .”

“We live together, Rhys. Tamlin is my boyfriend. You want me to turn on him? Become your confidential informant, or something?” Feyre bit the inside of her cheek when Rhys didn’t protest. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Rhys gave a swift nod.

“And how do you know I’m not complicit in all of this?” Feyre demanded.

Rhys rubbed his temples between two fingers. “We—uh. Well, not we. The FBI. Has been . . . Observing you.”

Feyre’s mouth fell open. “You had me tailed?”

Rhys winced again.

“I’m sorry, Feyre. I really am. But when his face flashed up on your phone screen at that networking event. . . I had to know. Had to learn more. And to answer your previous question, we know enough about Tamlin to be pretty certain that he plays things very close to the chest. After watching you this week, we had a feeling you were pretty clueless to the whole enterprise.”

Feyre folded her arms. “You couldn’t possibly know that.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “You’re top 5% in your law school class, Feyre."

Feyre bristled when Rhys mentioned her class rank--that particular revelation revealing that he had clearly done his research on her.

Rhys continued. "Any complicity in any sort of criminal activity could prevent you from taking the Bar. Could land you in prison. And . . . I had a feeling about you.”

“You had a feeling?”

Rhys raised his hands. “You don’t get this far as a federal white collar crime prosecutor without learning to trust your gut. And something tells me you don’t know anything about Tamlin’s crimes.”

Feyre pursed her lips. She didn’t know, of course. She barely knew anything about the legal side of Tamlin’s business, much less the illegal side. If it did, in fact, exist.

“Of course I don’t know about anything,” Feyre hissed. “I have a career to think about.”

Rhys nodded. “Of course you do.”

Silence fell. Feyre began picking at the frayed material of the seat in front of her.

“Well?” Rhys finally said.

Feyre cleared her throat. “Well, what?”

“Will you do it?”

“Why do you care so much?”

When Rhys didn’t answer, Feyre inched closer to him. His eyes were unfocused, staring blankly out the front windshield, his jaw tight, brows creased.

“Rhys?”

“My sister used to work for Spring Solutions,” he said quietly.

“Used to?”

“She was around your age,” Rhys rasped. Feyre sucked in a breath at his choice of words. Was.

Rhys swallowed, his jaw tightening further. “She started working for Spring Solutions right out of college—as a low-level secretary. But Tamlin took a liking to her, and eventually, he promoted her to his personal assistant. Everything was fine, for a while. She was making great money, enjoyed her job, and seemed set up to only rise through the company’s rankings. Then, one Friday evening, she came rushing into our place, absolutely frantic. She shut herself in her room for two full days. Wouldn’t talk to me, to anyone. Came out the following Monday morning like nothing had happened, and announced that she was quitting her job.

“That was the last time I saw her alive.”

Feyre gasped.

“It took me weeks to begin to suspect—” Rhys’s voice cracked. He started again. “To suspect that the mugging-gone-wrong she had experienced in downtown Velaris wasn’t as random as the police concluded. It took me weeks to wonder if my sister had known something—something that Spring Solutions couldn’t afford to let her quit knowing. I thought I was going crazy—Cassian told me I was losing my mind. Dreaming up any possible reason that could possibly make her death make sense.”

Feyre couldn’t stop the hand that reached out, gripping Rhys’s forearm through his dark suit. “Rhys. . .”

“I read the last few pages of her diary eventually. And the things she wrote the day before she died. . . She suspected something. Somehow, she figured out what Tamlin was doing, on a very basic level. And she wrote it down.”

“But then, why don’t you just use the diary?” Feyre asked. “That must be enough to start some sort of investigation—something.”

Rhys shook his head. “The diary’s gone. A few days after I read it, someone broke into my apartment. Tore through my sister’s room, probably looking for any evidence that she might have left behind. So now, I have nothing but my own knowledge.”

Finally, he looked up at her. “And it’s eating me alive.”

Feyre drew her hand back. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll help. Say you’ll work as a confidential informant for the FBI. Help me.”

“I don’t know… I still don’t know whether to believe you.”

But Feyre had a sinking feeling that Rhys wasn’t lying. Or at least, that he believed he was telling the truth.

“We can offer you protection. Transportation. Immunity. A—a place to stay,” Rhys sputtered. “Whatever you need. Just please say you’ll consider it.”

Feyre perked up at Rhys’s words. “A place to stay?”

“Ye—” Rhys’s voice cracked again. “Yes.”

He really was desperate.

Feyre started speaking before she knew what she was going to say. “I’ve been planning on leaving Tamlin. But I can’t afford a place of my own without more loans. If you could help me with that. . . I might consider helping you. If I decide to believe you.”

Rhys nodded. “Maybe I’m full of shit. But looking couldn’t hurt. If you find nothing, if Tamlin really is the environmental philanthropist he holds himself out to be, then it’s no harm, no foul. And we’ll help you out with a place to stay either way.”

Feyre considered it. “Can I sleep on it?”

Rhys shook his head. “Absolutely.”

“Okay,” Feyre said. “I’ll think about it. How do I get in touch with you with my decision?”

“We’ll find you,” Rhys said. “How about we plan for a week from today?”

Feyre ignored this subtle hint that her actions would continue to be watched over the next week. Despite what Rhys had said, did he and the FBI still believe that there was any possibility she knew about Tamlin’s alleged crimes?

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Feyre turned to go, but Rhys spoke her name once more.

“Yes?” She asked, meeting Rhys’s eyes.

“I’m not sure how wise it would be to end your relationship with Tamlin without protection,” he said cautiously. “You might not know it yet, but he is a dangerous man, Feyre.” Feyre opened her mouth to retort, to accuse him of trying to turn her against him. But Rhys continued. “If you decide not to accept our help, please know that we--I--will still help you leave him if need be. In my line of work, I've seen and heard about too many of these types of things going horribly wrong. Promise me you'll seek out our help before doing anything drastic.”

Feyre swallowed. “I promise,” she said softly.

Feyre cracked open the door, Azriel whirling around to tug it open for her. Before she stepped out, she turned back to Rhys, his hands clasped between his knees in the spacious backseat, eyes shadowed, most likely with thoughts of his departed sister. “Rhys?” Feyre said softly.

He looked at her.

“I’m sorry about your sister.”

Rhys only nodded, and Feyre turned, letting Azriel shut the door behind her.

———

What was a girl to do when she was told her boyfriend was a high-profile, white collar criminal?

Feyre didn’t let herself process what had just happened to her until she was safely behind the walls of her apartment. Clothes off, blasting Norman Fucking Rockwell on shuffle over Tamlin’s apartment-wide speakers, and the shower water scalding against her back.

If what Rhys said was true . . .

Then not only was Tamlin breaking a slew of environmental regulations, and helping others cover up their own environmental crimes, but he was doing it under the guise of actually promoting sustainability. And the environmental pollution paled in comparison to Rhys’s suspicions that Tamlin—or at least, someone at his company—had orchestrated the death of Rhys’s sister. Then broken into Rhys’s apartment to destroy any evidence she may have left behind.

Feyre shivered, the water suddenly cold against her skin.

She shut off the water and threw on a robe, her hair dripping over the fabric as she made her way to Tamlin’s study.

Luckily, Tamlin wasn’t one of those people with security cameras inside his actual apartment. She slipped inside the room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. She stood there for several long minutes, staring around the ultra-modern room. Sleek black desk, light wood floors. White walls with two minimalist white shelves on either side, meaningless knickknacks in neutral colors displayed atop them. Feyre knew Tamlin had hired a designer for this room—and obviously hadn’t cared to incorporate any personal touches. In fact, the lack of personal touch was a common theme throughout Tamlin’s apartment.

Feyre strode across the room, but bypassed Tamlin’s desk, instead aiming for the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows that formed the far wall. She spent another few minutes staring out at the city beneath her, lights twinkling in the dark.

If she looked inside Tamlin’s desk . . . Logged onto his computer . . . What would she find?

Anything?

Nothing?

And if she did find something… If she somehow discovered that Tamlin was doing something at all similar to what Rhys suspected. . .

There would be no turning back.

Feyre was going to be a lawyer. They were not only bound by the law, but also a strict code of ethics. Any crime, big or small, had to be reported to the Bar before Feyre would even be allowed to sit for the exam that would allow her to become a practicing attorney. Remaining affiliated with Tamlin was a danger to the entirety of her career, and she hadn’t even started practicing yet.

But her career and the legal profession aside, there would be no turning back for another, much more important reason.

Feyre would never be able to live with herself if she sat back and allowed people like Rhys’s sister to lose their lives to cover up Tamlin’s crimes. Wouldn’t be able to look herself in the mirror if she turned a blind eye while Tamlin not only polluted the environment, but disposed of the people who tried to put a stop to it.

She turned swiftly on her heel, pulling out the black chair behind Tamlin’s desk and seating herself behind it. She knew all of Tamlin’s passwords—either he had nothing to hide or he never would have suspected Feyre would snoop.

Feyre clicked through all of Tamlin’s files. Nothing. Just a whole lot of numbers, client contact lists, invoice records.

She scrolled through his internet search history—completely wiped.

Then, she opened his emails.

Tamlin’s work email popped up first, and after scrolling through dozens of mind-numbingly boring exchanges between Tamlin and Lucien, Tamlin and his high profile clients, Tamlin and his assistant—Feyre thought of Rhys’s sister as she read through those—nothing.

Deciding she had done just about enough work for the night, Feyre clicked on the trash icon. Perhaps Tamlin had deleted some correspondence and forgotten to clear the trash.

Feyre blinked as a single email popped up, from the email restortlocations@gmail.com. Subject Line read: “new recommendation.”

Resort locations? Was Tamlin planning a vacation? Or investing in some sort of resort?

Feyre clicked on the email, and the only thing in the body of the email was a map. There were no labels on the map—it was just a green landscape with a trailing blue river cutting across the right corner of the page. A thin red circle was marked over a space next to the river.

Feyre pursed her lips. This could be nothing. To a judge, it would be nothing. But Tamlin hadn’t replied to this email—so why was it in the trash? Was it a random solicitation, from someone trying to pitch him an idea for building a resort somewhere?

Or was it a map to the next place Tamlin should dump the noncompliant materials that his clients relied on him to discreetly dispose of?

Feyre swallowed, then shut off the computer, being sure to log out of everything Tamlin hadn’t previously been logged into, erasing all traces of her presence from his computer.

Then she made sure that everything in the room was exactly as it had been when she entered, and trailed her way back through the apartment.

She needed more to go on—needed more than this vague suspicion that Rhys might be telling the truth.

But even if Rhys was wrong, it couldn't hurt to at least look into Tamlin's business dealings. Chances were she would find nothing. But whether she found anything or not. . . This could be her ticket out of her relationship with Tamlin. If Rhys and the FBI were somehow able to give her a place to stay. . .

Feyre shivered as she remembered Rhys's warning. He's a dangerous man, Feyre.

Would it really be so hard to extricate herself from her relationship?

Feyre shook her head, resolving to give herself a week to find something even potentially suspicious about her boyfriend's business.

But that would have to wait.

Because she had a date with a bottle of wine and her couch.

Taglist:

@rhysiedarling @shedoessoshedoes @popjunkie42 @adreamof-spring @that-little-red-head @witch-and-her-witcher @cinnamonmelody @azrielover @1islessthan3books @jenahid @toporecall @martzja @muaddib-iswriting @queenofdivas

[miqotepotatoe]

Nothing's Ever Childish - Ninjago Secret Santa 2023

WC: 970

My Secret Santa for @sensei-twinkles. Enjoy your Watermelon Brothers fluff

Thank you @kokosnuss-jaguar, for hosting this event

Kai was not fond of patrols at all. He just personally found it a bit boring, going around the city, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity or if any citizen needed help. When they manage to catch a crook in action, busting them is fun, but that's as rare as finding gold at the end of a rainbow as no one is dumb enough to do crime in broad daylight during a ninja patrol. 

Mix boring patrols with the cold winter temperatures and it's a recipe for a very cranky Red Ninja. Despite being the Master of Fire you'd think Kai would do well in the cold, but not even his unusually higher than average body temperature can keep him warm in the biting winter chill, and these ninja suits weren't made of materials that keep you warm. He may have to request Zane to make thermal ninja suits for the winter, and ask Jay if he could make some of his amazing hot chocolate when they return to the monastery.

As Kai was passing by a bunch of shops, he spotted a familiar figure in green staring through the windows of the toy shop. Parking his bike, the Red Ninja went to see why the Green Ninja was shirking his patrols to stare at toys. 

"Hey Green Bean, what're you looking at?"

Lloyd immediately jumped back in surprise and quickly turned around to face Kai, a guilty look on his face. 

"K-Kai! I'm not looking at anything!" 

Kai gave his little brother a small smile, a hand casually on his hip. 

"No need to lie to me, I could see you staring whimsically through the window. Anything catch your eye?" 

Lloyd glanced back to the toy shop window, at a giant teddy bear in the far back corner. It was huge, the biggest teddy bear Kai had ever seen. Everyone in the monastery could use it as a mattress and have a cuddle pile on it. 

"Nothing really. Besides, I'm too old for toys like this. I'll be heading back on patrol, see you back at the monastery." 

Lloyd quickly summoned his elemental dragon and flew off to his patrol zone. Kai lingered, looking at that goliath of a teddy bear. Ever since the Tomorrows Tea, Lloyd had put away anything and everything he owned that he considered childish, from his Starfarer comics, handmade action figures and even his old black hoodie that he painted a ribcage on in an attempt to mimic his father. The boy was forced to grow up, despite still being mentally a kid he put all his focus on training. Sure he never grew out of his love of sweets, but Lloyd deserved to be a kid. Besides, you're never too old for toys or plushies. Look at Jay and his model vehicles and Cole's collection of plushies that take up 70% of space on his bed. 

Lloyd was getting that goliath teddy bear, but he needed help. Pushing a button on his earpiece, he called up the best person to help with this.

"Hey Cole, I have a favor to ask of you."

***

Lloyd was exhausted. The past few days of trying to catch this thief who had been robbing bakeries was met with little success. Everytime Lloyd was close to catching them, they vanished. It was getting annoying. Right now he just wanted to collapse and fall asleep. 

He entered his room, but was met with a surprise on his bed. Looming over him was a giant teddy bear. No, the same giant teddy bear he spotted at the toy shop when on patrol the other day. But what was it doing here? 

There was a tag on the teddy, which was hard to read because the handwriting was basically scribbles. From what he could make out, it read "Enjoy your new friend." Hearing a mischievous chuckle, Lloyd turned around to see Kai, leaning by the door frame, a sly smile on his face. 

"So, how do you like your new cuddly friend, Green Bean?" 

"Kai!? You were behind this!?"

Lloyd gestured to the goliath on his bed, the Master of Fire nodding. 

"Yup, they don't call me the Master of Surprise for nothing." 

"But, how did you get it here without-"

"Without you noticing? I had someone distract you with little 'robberies' at bakeries while I bought this goliath and brought him here." 

Lloyd didn't know what to say. He appreciated the gift, but he was too old for stuff like giant teddy bears. The Green Ninja doesn't need childish distractions like this.

"Kai, I can't accept this. I'm-"

"Don't say you're too old for stuff like this. Who says you can't enjoy things that are seen as childish? Have you seen Jay's model vehicles that he made, or Cole's ever growing plush collection? It'd be hypocritical of us to enjoy things like this and say you can't do the same. You may be the all important Green Ninja, but you're still a kid, all of us are. So just accept this big guy as a gift from me. Besides, he may help calm you down from those nightmares you get." 

Kai was right, just because they're ninja who have an important duty to protect the world doesn't mean they can't enjoy things seen as childish. Maybe Lloyd had been too hard on himself after prematurely growing up. The blond ran to Kai, wrapping his arms around his older brother, a wordless thank you for the gift. 

"By the way, who'd you get to distract me with those 'bakery robberies?'"

"That's a secret I'll take to my grave."

Neither of them noticed Cole walking past, munching on a slice of Black Forest Gateau with a smile on his face, his reward for distracting the Green Ninja from Kai's plan.

[regallibellbright]

I didn’t think of myself as a huge Sonic the Hedgehog fan growing up - we had the Advance games and played some of the Gamecube and DS ones, though Bro and I weren’t particularly good at any of them, and we watched Sonic X when it was on, but Sonic wasn’t a franchise I’d say I was particularly invested in until I got into the IDW comics (and to a lesser extent the Archie ones, since I haven’t actively read them yet but HAVE seen recaps) through Thanks Ken Penders back in 2020.

However, since I grew up in that post-Adventure era, even if I wasn’t ACTIVELY invested in Sonic and the lore, I did KNOW it. And so I’m always surprised to realize people DON’T know that the edgy black and red rival hedgehog who once had his own game where he had a gun has a canonical backstory in which he was the best friend/adoptive sibling to a terminally ill young girl (her age is never specified in the games but at oldest she’s in her midteens), the granddaughter of the scientist who created him (with the hope of somehow curing her We’re Not Calling It AIDS But It’s AIDS,) and also Dr. Eggman’s cousin. This ends when a thinly-veiled analog to the US military invades the space station he grew up on and murders everyone on it, including said terminally ill young girl, and Shadow only survives because Maria managed to put him in an escape pod where he’d stay in suspended animation for 50 years… after he sees her gunned down in front of him. Eggman and Maria’s grandfather/Shadow’s creator survives the initial massacre so the military unit can use his research, but he tampers with Shadow’s memory and builds a doomsday device in an attempt for revenge, and is ultimately executed. There’s a cutscene in SA2 where we see him just before this occurs. It’s EXACTLY as fucked up as you think. And yes, of course there are cutscenes where we see Maria’s death. Across multiple games, even. I have never played Sonic Adventure 2 but I have seen Maria gunned down plural times.

Which I admit, sounds wild when I put it that way. But because Shadow was a major recurring character and the games I played were in the “we brought him back now let’s give him a purpose” era, his backstory was always brought up and so I always just… consider this common knowledge. Like, yeah, of course one of the most popular characters in the franchise has a backstory involving the military executing all his family. This is in fact why he’s so popular. Everyone likes his edginess and also the genuine tragedy there, and his ultimate choice to be a hero so he can fulfill Maria’s dying wish that he protect the planet she always wanted to see.

So when the Sonic fanbase all LOST OUR COLLECTIVE SHIT at Shadow’s post-credits teaser in the second movie and realized all the pieces are in play for them to accurately adapt his backstory and Adventure 2, it was a genuine shocker to realize that tons of people just… aren’t familiar with the fact that what we’re pushing for, and why a lot of people thought they WOULDN’T go there, is Paramount signing off on a movie that is VEHEMENTLY anti-military and features a terminally ill child gunned down by them before our eyes. They’d better! Like, sorry Maria, I love AUs where you live and get to be more than the Sweet Saintly Dead Girl, but narratively you 1000% have to die. They’ve set things up for this. The Olive Garden guy shares a name and role with a character in the games who’s canonically a survivor of the same event. They have to go here.

Oh, and Sonic gets arrested in the opening sequence to cover for Shadow waking up and escaping their containment, because they can’t find Shadow so let’s blame a hedgehog we CAN find. This doesn’t work and results in one of the most beloved and iconic sequences in the franchise, to the point where I will genuinely think less of everyone involved’s competence if they DON’T in some way bring City Escape into the early marketing for Sonic 3. Like, it is that obvious a choice. Open your first trailer with the shot of him jumping off the helicopter with his makeshift snowboard and the guitar riff and you have guaranteed ticket sales. (Actually USE the song in the trailer and you’ve guaranteed more, the lack of Sonic music in the first two has been a glaring thing and Adventure 2 has two of the most iconic vocal numbers in the series.) I’ve never even played Adventure 2 and I know this. But the flip side of this is that if you DON’T allow this movie to actively criticize the military, you are therefore going to miss several of the most iconic moments of the game you are in some way adapting… and said game is one of the most beloved of the franchise, particularly on the story front. It’s great. I love that we’re here. I love that this apparently WASN’T common enough knowledge that Paramount could be lured into Shadow being staged in to the point that if they go back now, it’s CLEAR the writers and director wanted to go there and weren’t allowed to. And I am LOVING that people are finding this out NOW and then joining us in our “Do it Paramount, don’t be cowards” urging. Welcome to Sonic the Hedgehog! Our lore is weird but delightful.

[letterstonamjoon]

Equality

What do you think is gender equality?

Is it when women can do what men do?

“Globally, 20% contracts were from women-led companies, but they only contributed 1% revenue”. Yesterday, I participated in the opening of a women focus initiative of a large consumer manufacturing corporation. The reason is that most women's businesses are small and medium sized. So, is it fair to push businesses into women's hands and make them grow? If it were me, would I want to start my own business and become the owner of a large enterprise with several thousand employees? Or would I rather satisfy with the small size?

When I was a child, I always wanted to do the things boys do. One time, in a movie, there was a line about a character who looked like a boy: "Ah, that person urinates sitting down, so that's a woman." So from then on, I always urinated standing up when taking a shower, as if to prove that girls can urinate standing up too.

I read many stories about how disadvantageous it was to be a woman that during a period of my youth, I also thought the same thing. Such as bleeding once a month which was very tiring, pregnancy caused changes in the body and weakened health, and wives had many obligations in life, like managing the house, children, domestic and foreign affairs of both parties. I once wished that I was born as a boy.

I have a younger brother. Being born only 14 months after me, my younger brother is somehow like an older brother, the one who took my place in getting married and giving birth to grandchildren for my parents while I was still adventurous when I was young. In my generation, the ideology of favoring boys over girls is still very strong. Luckily, we are loved and treated fairly by our parents. In fact, because of our personality differences, I can even create more space for myself to live and experience the way I wanted.

The more I experience, the more I feel that being a woman is a privilege, not a disadvantage. Actually, I think whatever gender we are born into will have its own interesting experiences. I think the important thing is how we receive events, whether actively or passively. I wanted my child to be born, and enjoyed the days when the little creature grew up inside me with excitement and love. My gay friend also wants to be a parent, but it's not as easy as me finding a sperm. I don't want to worry about domestic or foreign affairs, so I did not get married to avoid the headache.

People are tired of having to follow social conventions, that being a woman has to be this or that. There is a saying in our place: "Women are good at country work and responsible for housework". If they practice according to that saying and feel happy, it's good. But if they feel unhappy because they have to be recognized as good women, then aren't they making themselves miserable? There is no guarantee that what everyone does is right. And if you know that's not right, then it's okay to go against the majority.

For some reason, I feel uncomfortable every time I hear about or have to attend a women's association, such as a women's entrepreneur association, or even receive flowers on International Women's Day. That discriminatory thinking itself has created inequality.

Back to the story of female entrepreneurs at the beginning. Have you ever thought why the 4 largest entertainment companies in Korea are in the hands of men? Why are men often better at business than women? In what fields are women often successful?

I think It's better to stop thinking about gender and just focus on respecting and supporting each individual to achieve their goals.

In your opinion, what is the measure of success for each gender (in their own minds)?

[bella-daonna]

Alright I heard u are the keagan main to go to for this so theories on Nessa let's hear em 👀

sorry anon i got halfway through answering this and then got busy! but here i am!

LADY NESSA (And Keagan)

What do we know about her?

Keags worked as her "personal assistant" but they haven't met in years, and she's "not fond of people meddling in her personal affairs".

They seem to have parted ways on unfriendly terms - it "didn't end well"

She's hot as fuck obviously

She lives in Fálias (at least now, but I think that it is likely that she always lived there - nobles tend to have a Big House that they stay in) - and Aífe gives us a caution about prying

Keagan is the only one who calls her by the title Mistress, everyone else uses Lady Nessa (Mistress meaning woman head of household) -> either a nod to their history together, or a verrrry subtle insult by being overly familiar/ refusing to use her proper noble title [which would be... Keagan core]

What are my theories about her?

Before we get into that, since this concerns Keagan's backstory I want to establish a couple more facts about HIM because this ties into what I'm thinking about Lady Nessa.

What are my theories about Keagan's backstory?

So we know that

Keagan is an orphan,

he grew up in Finias, but did not know Aife when she lived there

at some point he came to Fálias, where he lives now,

he rose through the ranks quickly during the War,

he seems to have found out the queen's secret

he keeps his background shrouded in mystery,

he's filthy rich (and loves it),

he's a good employer who cares about his staff - paying them well (notably unlike other nobles),

he doesn't have any friends other than Aífe (🥺)

his name is very obviously made up,

he's shady as fuck and

he loves to pry.

My conclusions from this are:

he did NOT grow up rich (he loves to flex - he'd say it if he had. He treats his staff well because he wasn't born with a silver spoon. He doesn't go by his original surname but I think that he would if it was a noble name. He's obsessed with his own wealth because it's new to him. If he was noble then people would know who he was from before the war, but they don't. And Aífe specifically would know who he was, but doesn't. Why would he have needed to work as a PA to the lady if he was a noble son? there's better ways for the nobility to get patronage.)

Sometime after his parents died, obviously he had to fend for himself. Without some kind of big inheritance, what options were available to him?

He also made his way to Fálias in this time, after his parents died.

What are my theories about her? (fr this time)

So I was thinking that:

She noticed Keagan somehow, and decided to take him in because he was useful - he probably showed his worth to her, perhaps via finding out an important secret and using that information to prove that he could be useful to her? - and she took him under her wing. Basically, sponsoring him, which gave him a bit more access to things.

An alternative is that he got himself into that position with the intent of spying on her, which is what all the "she doesn't like people prying into her business" references are about.

Obviously, either way, Keagan definitely stuck his nose where it shouldn't have been, pried into things he shouldn't have pried into, and got caught with it. Hence the relationship ending poorly, the warnings about prying.

However, there's some reason why she has not done anything about this. Perhaps he knows something important, and has ensured that in the event of his death, it would get out? Or she simply cannot touch him?

But somehow I am leaning towards that she isn't trying to actively make him dead... for now.

And finally

One last thing: everyone in the discord agrees she's either a milf or sus (or both, but you have to pick one)

Kinda interested in what other people think though and I have polls now so-

[anitravelz]

Flying to Boston

I made it to Boston last night. Thought I would post something about my travel day. Growing up I never got to go anywhere. I grew up in rural Minnesota surrounded by corn and soybean fields. I always dreamed of getting on a plane and going someplace, anyplace. It's only been the last couple of years that I've been able to do this. I love the travel experience, I love airports, planes and flying. I know there are some people, people I've taken trips with even that hate those parts of traveling and just want to get to the final destination. I find the getting there the best part. More so than all the activities at the destination. I still love exploring the places I go and love learning about the destinations, but the getting there is the best part.

Yesterday was my birthday and so I decided to use some of my Delta Skymiles points to upgrade to First Class. I also went to the Skymiles lounge and had a very classy experience. I typically am the type of person to travel as cheaply as I can so I can travel more, but decided on the more luxurious trip this time. Using points that is. I'm not rich enough to actually travel like that. I typically stay in hostels and fly on budget airlines. Once in a while it's nice to spoil yourself.

On the flight to Boston I sat next to a woman who seemed very nervous. It was her first time traveling solo. She asked me if I've every traveled solo and when I answered that I had she asked me if I had any tips on solo travel. Of course my ADHD brain had a million things to say but I couldn't get many of them out. I do have tips about solo travel and could talk about it for hours, it's one of the few things that isn't a hyperfiction that I can be obsessed with. All I could answer with was to just not be afraid to go out and do stuff by yourself. Maybe buy tickets to an event so you have a hard time for someplace to be. We spoke quite a bit on the way to Boston. I did listen to some music on the plane and managed to write 5 pages in my travel journal.

So, my travel journal. I started it during my trip to Puerto Rico and have been updating it ever since. It's one of my favorite activities while traveling. I feel that it helps to put things into perspective. Not just about my travels but about life. I feel centered when I do it. I tried a general journal for a awhile, one that I added to every day but it didn't have the same effect. I guess I just need to be away from my normal life for writing to bring me some clarity.

Let me know if you have any questions about my trip or travel in general.

Safe Travels everyone. 😊

[smoky-impressions]

when people continually mistreat you for how you are unmasking, when you assert your needs and boundaries, stop doing things that harm you to please others, grow as a person, go to therapy or do the necessary work to unlearn maladaptive behaviours (not all people can afford / find appropriate and affordable therapy), it is not you who is wrong. of course, you will make mistakes--it's only a lifetime of living behind a mask to undo (/s). you may be too blunt in assertion of needs, or you may become very anxious over changes in the routines of one area of your functioning, resulting in rigidity in another; you may become very, very tired while doing all this work and have much less patience or energy to deal with what others perceive to be minor events / inconveniences, or you may even deal with them poorly as you extend past your limit. people will probably be understandably upset or put-off for a bit, but with those who care about and support you, some time and an apology* should be all that is needed for repair and reconciliation. but if the mistreatment is a pattern and nothing you are doing is changing it, then it is on them. you can make suggestions and offer feedback for how they can help you through this difficult time, but if those asks continually fall on unwilling ears, they are likely not going to change for you (barring their own willingness to go to therapy / do the work).

the expression "stop going to the hardware store for milk" comes to mind. if you are waiting for Rona to stock your favourite 2%, you will deprive yourself waiting for the impossible. maybe that location used to be a grocery store, but they have changed, as are you and your needs. maybe you did not know you needed milk, you grew up without it in the home. that does not change the fact that if you walk into that building and ask for milk, you will be turned around, no matter how much money you have, how many aisles you search, how many trips back to the same store you make, no matter how kindly or desperately you ask. repeating this pattern, you will only deny yourself real love, opportunities for growth and encountering more supportive people, and true understanding of yourself while waiting for the person who is the hardware store in your life to meet you even part way.

while unmasking, you can find out who you are, where your limits lie and where other people had been limiting you with their faulty assumptions and beliefs they hold about you. what do you ACTUALLY like? what makes you look forward to stepping out of the house? not the pre-approved list of things you masked discomfort while doing to please your family members, people you called friends, relationship partners, or work colleagues, but things you would do without them present and without fear or shame holding you back (it can be hard to imagine when you have lived with fear and shame for so long). what do you dislike? where are the 'shoulds' in your life? what activities might you stop to conserve spoons for the things you are truly enjoying?

unmasking is not easy, even with a therapist to help you. expect it to be a long-term project; it is no easy thing to "rewire" neural pathways that have been reinforced for many years out of fear and necessity, especially if the masked behaviours kept you or are keeping you safe. you might have to choose who it is safe to unmask around and you might find out the hard way who does not fit in that category. it is worth it to find those people, i still believe that despite everything. i hope everyone who reads this finds safe people and places from which to procure their emotional "milk".

* an apology should: demonstrate that you understand the harm that your action caused, perhaps a reason for your actions that does not blame the other person nor attempts to absolve you of the wrongdoing, that you regret it, and that you have a genuine willingness and plan to do something differently next time (and that you are open to suggestions of what you can do differently)

My doctor and therapist: now with this autism + ADHD diagnosis you need to learn to unmask because masking all the time will make you burn out again and feel like shit

Other people: well it's just interesting how after getting the diagnosis you suddenly start behaving like that I mean I'm not saying you're faking it's just funny how you suddenly cannot be normal like you were before

[tracyfance]

Do You Wonder Why You’ve Themes or Patterns In Your Life That Hurt You?   

As a psychic coach, I have seen many people struggle with unhelpful behaviour patterns that seem to be deeply ingrained in their minds, it seems to work against what they consciously want. But did you know that these patterns may actually be created by a part of your brain called the reticular activating system (RAS)?

Let Me Introduce You To The Reticular Activating System (RAS)

The RAS is a bundle of nerves located in your brainstem that acts as a filter for the thousands of stimuli that your brain receives every day. It decides what information is important and what ‘s not, and then sends that information to your conscious mind. This means that your RAS is responsible for determining what you pay attention to and what you ignore. Ever noticed when you get a new car, everyone else suddenly has the same model too?

The problem is that the RAS is heavily influenced by your beliefs, thoughts, and emotions. If you constantly focus on negative thoughts or emotions, your RAS will pick up on these signals, filtering out positive information. This can create a self-perpetuating cycle of negative thinking and behaviour that’s hard to break.

Case Studies

1: Client X 

Client X came to me in quite a state, they had a repeating pattern in their life which they simply could not understand. Their common question to me was ‘why does this keep happening to me?’ 

Using various coaching & NLP techniques including Timeline Therapy - this involves regressing them back to the root memory of the issue - we discovered a memory from being a toddler on holiday with the family. In the memory were quite a few distressing events which made my client cry at revisiting. Interestingly my client had not recalled this memory consciously, it was buried away as ‘unimportant’ as there were many more prominent memories, as I’m sure is the same with your life.

When discussing the memory afterwards, the client remarked on how they found it weird that with the family members being so challenging, why was it that they kept connecting with people just like them which made them unhappy again & again?

The answer to this is the RAS! Consciously they knew they wanted to connect with people that enhanced their life, that made them happy & with who they could really connect. What the RAS does is programme the subconscious mind to look for what it knows best, which is the people my client grew up with, those that were emotionally closed off, unable to express themselves & very manipulative. My client realised they’d had a string of narcissists parade through their life wreaking havoc, they were totally unaligned to their values which is always going to create inner conflict which has manifested in their personal life & health as well as completely dysregulating them emotionally & physically which means they live in a high state of stress known as flight-fight-freeze which floods the body with a toxic cocktail of adrenaline & other hormones which are not good in high doses or over prolonged periods

2: Client A

Client A came to me with really low self-worth after a particularly damaging relationship with a narcissist who then ghosted them, breaking their heart in the process.

Client A was really keen to find a new relationship, even though they’ve had a string of abusive & heartbreaking ones. It soon became clear during our sessions that their childhood had been horrid with divorce, absent father, emotionally absent mother & sibling relationships which were close when younger but were emotionally dysfunctional as adults.

In this instance the client is wired to want to be loved since they’ve been emotionally abandoned by everyone in their family as well as partners so far. The RAS though is looking for the familiar, which means that consciously Client A is looking for love, an emotional closeness & to be happy & secure, what they’re getting is the opposite it’s exactly what they had growing up & doesn’t serve them, again driven by the subconscious. Think of it as the brain looking for safety, otherwise known as ‘better the devil you know’ even if it’s not making you happy.

Sadly, they have a fear of being emotionally abandoned or hurt but they’ll keep experiencing exactly that until they finish their self work.

It’s crucial to reprogramme the subconscious beliefs that drive your behaviour otherwise the pattern will just keep repeating.

3: Most People!

Most people will see what they want or be oblivious to things which don’t suit them, let me explain.

Do you recall the movie ‘Life of Brian’? I know it’s an old one but even so it’s a perfect illustration. In the movie, John Cleese plays a part where his character asks ‘what have the Romans ever done for us’? A few people answer this rhetorical question, each time he replies ‘but apart from that…’? He doesn’t want to hear those answers, he’s got a belief that supports his narrative that the Romans are a pestilence, they’ve done nothing for the locals & so he wants them gone.

Ever had a bad day where everything has gone wrong or you're saying to yourself ‘nobody likes me’ etc? If someone were to point out that there were good things in your day or name a few people that truly like or love you, you’d be saying ‘apart from that/them’ because it doesn’t fit with the story you’re telling yourself. If that were to be ongoing, you’d programme the subconscious mind and make it a self-fulfilling prophecy which means you make what you believe to be true, come true! Does that make sense?

Transforming The RAS Using NLP

This is where neuro-linguistic programming (NLP) can be an effective tool for change. NLP is a psychological approach that involves analysing the language and behaviour patterns of successful people in order to replicate their success. By understanding how the brain works and how language and behaviour are linked, NLP can help you reprogram your RAS and create more positive patterns of thinking and behaviour. I trained in NLP with Paul McKenna (the TV hypnotist) & the co-creator of NLP Richard Bandler back in 2007 & I find it a superb tool for facilitating changes, I helped the clients above & many more using NLP & coaching skills.

One of the key concepts in NLP is the idea of reframing. Reframing involves looking at a situation from a different perspective in order to change how you feel about it. For example, if you’re always anxious about speaking in public, reframing could involve changing your belief from "I am terrible at public speaking" to "I am getting better at public speaking every time I do it." This simple change in belief can help you reprogram your RAS to focus on the positive aspects of public speaking instead of the negative ones.

Some Frequent Situations & NLP Techniques For Resolving Them

Another NLP technique that can be used to change unhelpful behaviour is anchoring. Anchoring involves associating a particular state of mind with a physical trigger, such as a touch or a specific word. For example, if you want to feel more confident in a particular situation, you could anchor that feeling to a specific word or gesture. Then, whenever you need to feel more confident, you can use that anchor to trigger the feeling.

Negative self-talk: When the RAS filters out positive information, women may find themselves engaging in negative self-talk that reinforces negative beliefs about themselves and their abilities. This can lead to a lack of confidence, self-doubt, and self-sabotage.

Difficulty setting boundaries: If the RAS filters out information about assertiveness or boundary-setting, women may struggle to set and maintain healthy boundaries in their relationships and work environments. This can lead to feelings of overwhelm, resentment, and burnout.

Limiting beliefs: The RAS can reinforce limiting beliefs about what women can and cannot do, which can hold them back from pursuing their goals and dreams. This can lead to feelings of stagnation, frustration, and unfulfillment.

Comparison and perfectionism: When the RAS filters out positive information about progress and growth, women may find themselves comparing themselves to others or striving for unrealistic levels of perfectionism. This can lead to feelings of inadequacy, stress, and anxiety.

Difficulty making decisions: If the RAS filters out information about decision-making or problem-solving, women may struggle to make decisions or take action on important matters. This can lead to feelings of indecisiveness, anxiety, and inaction.

Things Worth Noting

Whilst everyone is different & the experiences which shaped them are different, It's important to remember that not everyone will experience these pain points to the same degree or in the same way. However, by understanding how the RAS can create disempowering behaviour and using tools like NLP, women can empower themselves to create more positive patterns of thinking and behaviour that align with their goals and values.

Finally, NLP can also be used to change the language you use to describe yourself and your experiences. By changing the language you use, you can change the way you think about yourself and your abilities. For example, instead of saying "I can't do that," you could say "I haven't learned how to do that yet." This subtle shift in language can help you reprogram your RAS to focus on the possibilities instead of the limitations.

In conclusion, the reticular activating system is a powerful force that can create unhelpful patterns of behaviour in your life. However, by using NLP techniques like reframing, anchoring, and changing your language, you can reprogram your RAS so you create more positive patterns of thinking and behaviour. So if you're struggling with unhelpful behaviour patterns, consider trying NLP as a tool to empower yourself and create the life you want.

Try This Tool For Self Healing

It’s not always possible to see your own behaviour & how to change it or the opportunity for growth, this is why journaling is good as it gives a chance for observation, objectivity & growth. I’m a huge believer in looking backwards for understanding but not for beating yourself up or to dwell on the past, by documenting events & behaviours you can become aware of it then you can change it. Start with becoming aware of your inner dialogue, what do you say to yourself day in and day out? Write it down & explore where it comes from & what you’d rather say to yourself that supports you & allows you room to grow.

Your Turn!

Give these techniques a go and let me know how you get on. I’m happy to have a chat with you if need be so let’s schedule a Zoom call, grab a coffee & chat! You can book a 30 minute free call here via my online calendar.

With love and light. Tracy Fance, Psychic Coach

#NLP #healing #selfhealing #healthemind #coachingwithtracyfance #psychiccoachtracyfance #triggering #thepastcanstillhurtyou #selffulfillingphrophecy

[allinlist]

Top 10 Best Online Shop in U.S.A For The Past Holiday Season

If you are one of the people that shops the most during the Holiday season but finds it difficult to invest time going to shopping malls, then online shopping is the one you needed!

According to the US Census Bureau's report, the amount of growth in retail e-commerce sales had a trend for a very short time over the past two decades. In fact, it was only about 5 million during 1998 and grew up to 389 million in the year 2016. Up until now, online shopping continues to grow as an alternative market because it totally gained the trust of every buyer of all ages.

Since it is now at its highest peak, there are many people during these days who patronize online shopping for their own reasons. Some of them buy items through online markets because it is way cheaper than in the malls. Some also choose to purchase products in the online world because they do not want to go away from their places. There are so many reasons to present on why did the others selected online shopping more than the window shopping. If you will think about it properly, online shopping is more convenient than window shopping as  you will save time, effort, and as well as money. That is why we are challenging you to try purchasing products through online markets!

For you not to hesitate buying on the e-commerce, it will present here the top 10 list of the best online shops in the US. Try to check this out and you will definitely feel tempted to buy your favorite products here for your late gift giving this past holiday!

10. Target- If you are not that good at choosing a product's design, shop now to this website as it will present to you a list of items with great designs. It also provides the needs of everyone and gives you a discount for each class of items. They also make sure that all of their customer's demands will be satisfied.

9. Macy's- If you want to have a clothes or any kind of product that is in lined with your fashion sense, you should purchase items to Macy's! This website lets you pick all of the possible items with a high quality at a lower rate since it has twenty-five percent discounts once you have registered with this online shop!

8. Home Depot- Are you looking for a shop that sells a complete package of your home furniture? If you are, then this website is perfect for you! Home depot merchandises appliances, furniture, as well as design for every room. If you are planning to give your house a good-looking appearance, you should visit this website now!

7. Zappos- If you are looking for an eye-catchy material, then you should visit this website as it supplies products that would surely catch the attention of every consumer at any age. You can also look for any activities of an upcoming event just like sports festival.

6. Best Buy- One of the best features that consumers love about this website is that it continues to provide products that are designed in response to the modernization of technology. Almost all of the items found here undergone innovation. In fact, during 1960's, it was the one who provided services to the Americans.

5. Newegg- This website is widely known for its great service that made every American live better. Before you buy any items here, try to see first the reviews that the other costumers made, for you to know what is their best-selling items. In addition, you can also give a rating and review to their service. And lastly, they drop of notification to each user's account whenever there is a discount to a particular product.

4. Etsy- Because of the original and unique stock of every item that this website has, this became the American's favorite online shopping. You can buy items here such as clothes, jewelries, and any other kind of product by piece. Another thing that is amazing about this website is it supplies handcrafts and customized materials that is why it is the best online shop for those people who are looking for gifts. And just like the other websites, you can also sell goods here. If you are interested to buy products here, then you should visit this by simply typing etsy.com.

3. Walmart- One also of the great online shops that started in the U.S.A. is the Walmart, which is being patronized in every country. This website began as a small store and now it is now one of the biggest online shopping worldwide! Unbelievable right, just like the other websites, Walmart also sells various kinds of products such as house furniture, groceries, and any other items. Did you know that Walmart's goal is just a simple one? And it is to provide shoppers more than the cost that they were paying for a product. That is why multiple people are satisfied enough with the things that they have bought in the eBay. One more thing is that once you have created your account on this website, you are automatically given a twenty-five dollar discount on your first buy. What are you waiting for? It will totally give you the best items at a lower rate!

2. eBay- Being the second to the top, eBay is the website in which you can buy anything that you want. There are clothes for men and women with various sizes. There is also house equipment found there as well as electronic devices. Moreover, this website is very popular because of its item's trendy styles along with its captivating deals as well as its discount. Another great thing is that you can actually sell your old items on this website at a price of your own choice. You can also shop at eBay wherever you are and one last thing, wise shopping is when you shop on eBay!

1. Amazon- Being the top seller in the world of online shopping, Amazon has now multiple branches and became widely spread all over the world. So far, it is considered as the world's largest e-commerce all around the world and almost all of your needs can be found here! From your head dress down to your feet, it's all present here! There are list of choices you can have in just a single item and one more thing is that you can get discounts! Amazing, isn't it? Another thing is that this website is user-friendly because the products being merchandised are separated according to their classification. It also provides a search bar wherein you can describe the items that you want. Once you shop at Amazon, your life will totally get easier and you are guaranteed that all of the items you will buy have high quality since this website promises to the Americans that they will provide the best of the best class of every product.

[peonierose]

Day 1: How did you get into fanfic?

Hmm. This is a tricky question. Because I’d never thought I’d be a fanfic writer to begin with.

I’ve always loved reading and writing. But I think it was in 2017 when I actively started to write.

I remember how I sometimes got annoyed with certain characters that I was reading in books, decisions they made and things they said that had me shaking my head - I then thought if I wrote this character? Yeah that’s not how my character would react. So I decided to give writing a go. And I love it.

I’ve written some original content that has nothing to do with choices.

I’ve always loved everything that revolves around fantasy books (vampires, werewolves, mermaids and especially Fae 😍) Legends and Lore 😱 I am super fascinated by how their powers and their world work.

And everything that has to do with fairy tales since I grew up with them.

But I remember when choices first came out and I was playing/reading books like The Freshman, Most Wanted and Open Heart. I was so in love with the characters and the world building. I remember I couldn’t wait to play the new chapter 😅

When Open Heart ended I was curious to see if there is any fancfiction of Open Heart and that led me to Tumblr.

When I first joined tumblr (2021) - I started out as a reader, not really interested or comfortable enough to write least of all post anything - but I got curious and I started writing Luna & Bryce and I fell in love. My world has been growing. I’ve met so many incredible people and written such amazing stories.

Learning to give myself time to write and not to rush if a story doesn’t feel right.

I’ve met so many incredible people such as @txemrn @doriopenheart @aallotarenunelma @ofmischiefandmedicine @mysticalgalaxysstuff @mvalentine @inlocusmads @angelasscribbles @karahalloway @takemyopenheart @tveitertotwrites @surrenderronnie1 @storyofmychoices @jerzwriter @cariantha @secretaryunpaid @the-pale-goddess @openheartforeverinmyheart @karahalloway @choicesfanaf @headoverheelsforramsey

(whom I consider friends even though it takes me ages to even know if people like me or consider me a friend - since you know im awkward 😅 -)

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Choices is for now the only fandom I write for. But I might want to extend it to Star Wars (I’m still a newbie for all things Star Wars 😅) & Supernatural 💚

What do you think it was about that fandom that pulled you in?

Apart from the super nice & welcoming people? It was the love for characters and stories that really pulled me in. All the creativity with edits, fics and events that I really adore. And of course all the friendships I’ve made along the way. Meeting people who share the same interests as you? Whether that be good food or the same book or a song? Is pretty rare and I couldn’t be more happy or thankful to have met everyone in the choices fandom 💚

For the next 30 days, we are going to try something new. The idea comes from a friend on IG (@/jenbeaumontjones) who graciously said we could share it here. We'll post one question a day for the next 30 days. They will center around fanfic writing and the writing process. You can answer in comments or via reblog. We'll keep a running log of all the questions here; you can answer at any time. We hope you'll find this enjoyable!

Day 1: How did you get into fanfic?

[bcdwhcre]

OMG!! Ok so reader joins the elite squad (post-annie titan), and Levi asks Eren or Mikasa to wake them up, but everyone REFUSES to because reader is worse than Levi in the morning. Ok so Levi goes in to wake her up himself, and at first he thinks she looks peaceful, but when he goes to shake her she grabs his wrist and forces herself on top of him in the bed and then shes like UHHH SORRY CAPTIAN

“Wake Up Call,” Levi x Reader

Summary: everyone being scared to wake you up in the morning so Levi is left to do it.

Warnings: none

.

.

.

It had been going on for weeks, your friends would constantly bicker and make fun of the way you were grumpy in the morning.

You’ll admit that you’re not a morning person but you weren’t all that bad, you just assumed they were being dramatic and were looking for reasons to push your buttons.

But as time went by, Levi forcing different people to wake you up in the early morning for training turned into a complete circus.

First it was Eren, he walked in your small room and watched you sleep on the bed. You looked peaceful and he assumed it was be pretty easy to just shake you awake and make you get ready for the day but he was wrong.

When his hand went down to place on your arm and gently shake you while calling your name, you were quick to activate defensive mode and grab his arm before twisting it.

“Hey, Y/N!” Eren shouted, making your eyes go wide and instantly let go of his arm.

“I’m so sorry.” You quickly said, soon a small laugh had started to leave your lips at the look of terror on his face.

After that Jean had came to wake you up but you had given him the finger and rolled over to sleep again but he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, especially since Levi would curse at him for not being successful with dragging you out of bed.

So he continue to shake you, even got on your bed to jump on it before you grabbed his feet and yanked him so he fell on his back.

“Ouch! Jesus Christ, is it that hard to get up?” He complained, yanking the blankets off your body and left your room with them, leaving you too cold to sleep.

Soon after that it was a cycle that was never ending until your friends had refused to wake you up in the morning. They rather deal with Levi’s temper than to deal with your morning attitude.

But Levi wasn’t going to back down and let you have a peaceful sleep, you needed to learn how to get up in the morning to train like the others.

It made him insanely frustrated to bicker with his scouts about who is going to wake you up next and the fact he lost and has to walk in your room to wake you up, he was going to make sure it didn’t turn out pretty.

You were obviously a great scout and a great person to work with, that’s what he thinks at least but the way you loved your sleep more than your job and would do anything for a nap, it irritated him and he tried for months, even a year to snap you out of this phase but it never worked.

He grunted under his breath, walking inside your dark room as you slept peacefully on your bed. He furrowed his eyebrows as he walked over to the window and pushed open the curtains, letting some light come through.

“Y/N.” He simply said, glancing over at you and of course you were still passed out on the bed.

The side of your face was squished against the pillow, lips parted slightly and soft breaths leaving your lips while the blankets were tucked securely around you as you laid there curled up like a baby.

He’ll admit you look cute and peaceful but you needed to get up, he can’t just leave you here while everyone else trained.

“Great.” He mumbled to himself, moving his feet towards your bed as the boots on his feet clicked against the wooden floors.

He was growing impatient with you, it was like he was taking care of a child and he hated that. He stood in front of your bed, his hand moving down to rest on your back and somewhat shake you awake.

He didn’t want to be harsh but he was also annoyed that you were still sleeping through all of this, he hated to be kept waiting and you have everyone including him waiting for you- you always did when there was early morning training.

He continued to shake you, getting a little more rough once he noticed you weren’t budging. Were you dead? He couldn’t believe someone could sleep like this, be such a heavy sleeper and manage to sleep like a baby.

Levi sighed, grabbing the blankets and pulling them off you. He yanked the pillow from underneath your head and dropped it down on your head with a bit of force but careful enough to not completely hurt you.

Soon he reached down to shake you again, this time you went into defensive mode again. Your hand grabbed his arm and pulled him down on the bed, flipping yourself to go on top of him and used the small knife you hid by your bed to press against his throat.

Once your eyes had adjusted, you met eyes with Levi. He was stunned, his eyes wide and yours grew wide too. Soon your face was completely red and flustered when you noticed the position you were in.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry Captain.” You were quick to get off of him and hide the small knife behind your back as you watched him get up.

He stared at you, eyebrows raised in amusement. He now understood why everyone was so scared to wake you up in the morning. He didn’t know you had all that in you and was impressed that even half asleep, you can somehow manage to defend yourself if necessary.

As he looked over your current state, you face flustered and red- he couldn’t help but chuckle and fix his jacket before returning back to his usual cold stare.

“Do that again and you’ll be running laps, get ready and meet us outside.” He said plainly, trying to hide the small chuckles that wanted to leave his mouth as he walked towards your door.

“Right, sorry again.” You said, cursing under your breath to yourself at how much of an idiot you can be and he heard it.

His head turned to look at you, he rolled his eyes and stood in the doorway as you continued to mumble small curse words under your breath until he cleared his throat to get your attention.

“What was that?” He asked, he was entertained by the small show you had given and he was edging to tease you even more about the events that had just happened.

“Nothing! I’ll be out there in a minute.” You scrambled around your room to grab your uniform and as you were about to take off your pajamas, you noticed Levi still standing there and met eyes with him.

“Is there anything else, Captain?”

“Oh, right.” He nodded, turning to leave the room but had stood there just for a moment, the small smirk hidden from your view.

“If you wanted me in a position like that, all you had to do was ask.” He said playfully, making your cheeks turn a darker shade than it was before, soon he had left your room and left you to get ready for training.

But you were too busy overthinking it and thinking about how you managed to tackle your own Captain down and practically sit on top of him with a knife pressed against his throat. You were terrified of the training he would put you through today just by doing that to him.

Deep inside your mind, though, you somewhat enjoyed the little show and so did Levi.

.

.

.

Pretty short but I thought it was a good length.

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

[sg-marshall]

sims 4 trait legacy challenge

Overview:

This is a ten generation legacy challenge based on some characteristics people can possess. Each generation will be based upon a new trait. The style and gender of the generation is completely up to you (I usually play as women but gender does not matter in this challenge)! Complete all goals before focusing on the next generation. Some may play onto each other, so be sure to look ahead before moving forward! I created an adapted version for people who do not have the packs I used listed below the challenge. I wanted to make sure everyone could play and not feel left out!

Rules:

No cheats or mods!

Start off with $20,000 and a build a house wherever you want one.

Complete all six goals for every generation before moving onto the next one.

Complete the full aspiration and reach level 10 in the set career.

There is no rules when it comes to aging up but I suggest waiting until it is their set birthday.

Play on normal life span.

Packs Used: Base Game, Discovery University, Seasons, City Living, Get to Work, Cats and Dogs, Parenthood, Spa Day, and Knifty Knitting

Generation One: Responsibility

You are a very old fashioned person who believes things have a certain way of being done. Every object in your house has a set place, the person you marry you are supposed to stay with forever, and the world should be a clean place to live in. Never once have you strayed away from your beliefs and you’ve always lived your life by the book. Even once your partner dies and you are left with a child who cannot handle their passing, you stay true to your morals. (EDIT: I have been playing this challenge myself and found that the final level of the aspiration said “have a child master a career”. I do not know if you have to be in the household for that, but if you do, just add this generation to the household of the next one before they master it. It is also okay if you want to ignore/cheat this part.)

Traits: Neat, Good, Green Fiend

Aspiration: Successful Lineage

Career: Education (Administrator Branch)

Goals:

Max charisma skill.

Max research and debate skill.

Be married as a young adult, but have your partner die (do not tell your child how) once they reach adult hood. Never remarry.

Have only one child with your partner.

Complete the snowglobes collection and have them set up in a specific room in your house.

Make your neighborhood green and keep it that way.

Generation Two: Determined

You’ve always struggled to cope with the death of your father/mother ever. Maybe that's because you never really knew why they died in the first place. Left with too many questions to handle, you destroy your relationship with your friends and family and run away to find some answers. This entails a trip to Sixam, where you can finally wrap ahead around the passing of you mom/dad. You decide to come home just in time to see your mom/dad just before they too pass away. After a heart-breaking conversation, you realize that all the secrecy was for the best.

Traits: Gloomy, Ambitious, Loner

Aspiration: Nerd Brain

Career: Astronaut (Interstellar Smuggler Branch)

Goals:

Max rocket science skill.

Max mischief skill.

Build a rocket ship and fly to Sixam.

Run away and live on your own as a teenager. 

Have a horrible relationship with your mom/dad as a young adult, but become best friends with them before they pass away.

Complete the microscope prints collection.

Generation Three: Loving

Your mother/father was extremely distant growing up, which caused you to rely on friends as your family. Your childhood best friend has been with you every step of the way, and you ended up fell in love with them. All you wanted to do was be a mother/father, but found out you could never have children. You adopt a child as a baby and raise them as your own, teaching them everything you wish your parents did for you.

Traits: Romantic, Family - Oriented, Foodie

Aspiration: Soulmate

Career: Babysitter (Teenager), None (Young Adult and older)

Goals:

Max parenting skill.

Max wellness skill.

Marry your childhood best friend.

Adopt a baby after you get married.

Teach your toddler to max all skills.

Have a side passion of knitting.

Generation Four: Intelligence

You grew up incredibly smart with no knowledge of who your real parents were. However, that never mattered to you. Your adoptive parents have made it their life goal to advance your gifts in every way they know how. Late nights of helping you with homework, early mornings of finishing projects, and spending their fortunes to enroll you into the college of your dreams. All you wanted to do was repay them by becoming a world renowned journalist. You dedicate your best-sellers to them because, after all, they’ll always be your biggest fan.

Traits: Genius, Bookworm, Unflirty

Aspiration: Academic

Career: Writer (Journalist Branch)

Goals:

Max logic skill.

Max writing skill. 

Reach level eight in five other skills of your choice.

Go to the University of  Britechester and study Language and Literature (distinguished).

Join the Debate Guild and reach the highest rank.

Write five novels.

Generation Five: Hard - Working

Fashion has been your passion since you were a little girl/boy. You even asked your parents to stop dressing you as a toddler because the clothes they picked were “not stylish enough.” As a self-proclaimed style icon, you knew you had to make your biggest dream come true: to create your own fashion line. So, as soon as you graduated high school, you packed your bags and moved to the big city - San-Myshuno. There you created your social media platform and blew up! A normal life was never your style, and you made sure to put in as many hours as it would take to achieve all you ever wanted.

Traits: Perfectionist, Self - Assured, Materialistic

Aspiration: City Native

Career: Style Influencer (Stylist Branch)

Goals:

Max photography skill.

Max painting skill.

Must live in San-Myshuno.

Complete the crystals collection.

Hire a nanny for your child and do not spend much time with them.

Gain 10,000 followers on Simstagram.

Generation Six: Resilience

After being known as “the child of the most famous fashion designer” all your life, the city became a toxic place for you. You hated the loud noises, constant stream of people, and just wanted to live a quiet life. You loved visiting your grandmother/father’s house and hearing one of her/his famous stories. You decided to pull inspiration from one of their novels and live off by the coast in the adorable Brindleton Bay. Your passion for crafting and living off the land inspired you to start a small business selling your candles and juice - all locally grown of course. 

Traits: Loves Outdoors, Maker, Creative

Aspiration: Master Maker

Career: Freelancer (Simply Crafted)

Goals:

Max fabrication skill.

Reach level eight in both candle making and juice fizzing.

Move to Brindleton Bay as a young adult.

Have four or more kids.

Complete the frog collection.

Never go to an event in the city or visit the city once you are a young adult.

Generation Seven: Carefree

Being in a big family is can be hectic at times. So, you decided to be the happy jokester in the middle just trying to get people to crack a smile. And you got really good at it. As a major people person, you made sure to get to know everyone you meet. You even started a tradition of taking a picture with them so you could never forget that moment. Your friends will always invite you to go out because you are known for being the life of the party. However, the parties you host, are even better. You decide to live life as if it was one big stage, and you’re the star performer.

Traits: Goofball, Clumsy, Outgoing

Aspiration: Party Animal

Career: Entertainer (Comedian Branch)

Goals:

Max comedy skill.

Max singing skill.

Host a party every week.

Take a photo of every person who visits you.

Marry someone you met just two days before.

Attend every festival or event you are asked to attend.

Generation Eight: Kind

Expected to be just like your mother/father, no one ever assumed you would be the quiet kid who preferred reading over partied. However, that is exactly who you were. When it was that time of the week for a new social event, you either left for the library or locked yourself in your room, praying it ended soon. Your parents noticed you struggled talking to people, so they allowed you to adopt a puppy once you became a teenager. You and your dog instantly became best friends and you took them everywhere. Even though you may not be great with people, being compassionate was a skill you ranked high in. You always looked out for the less fortunate and wanted to provide in anyway you could.

Traits: Vegetarian, Loner, Good

Aspiration: Friend of the Animals

Career: Gardner (Floral Designer Branch)

Goals:

Max gardening skill.

Max flower arranging skill.

Keep up a garden of just flowers.

Adopt strays: one dog, and two cats.

Marry an ambitious sim.

Donate $100 to charity weekly.

Generation Nine: Impulsive

You grew up hearing stories of your grandmother/father’s so called “wild days” and fell in love with the energy it brought. However, your mom/dad raised you better than to go out spending life as if there was no consequences. Finding a balance started off to be very challenging for you. You could never hold down relationships and even got pregnant/got someone pregnant twice. It wasn't until you became a secret agent and learned how to live two lifestyles: one full of fun and adventure; the other more stable and structured.

Traits: Active, Non-Committal, Bro

Aspiration: Bodybuilder

Career: Secret Agent (Diamond Agent Branch)

Goals:

Max fitness skill.

Max handiness skill.

Go to either college for Psychology and play soccer.

Have four failed relationships and never get married.

Have two children from two different relationships.

Move three times once you become a young adult.

Generation 10: Passionate

Because your mother/father’s job required you to move around so much, making real life friends was a lot harder than it seemed. So, you built your relationships within the online community. Every day, you and your closest friends would hop online and compete in tournaments or even play for fun. As the years went on, you became really good at coding and even started working on your own apps. You looked up to the players from ESports Gaming - only the best gamers in the world - and longed to be sitting in one of their spots. And sure enough, after years of perfecting your strategies and game plays, your dreams came true!

Traits: Geek, Hot-Headed, Outgoing

Aspiration: Computer Whiz

Career: Tech Guru (ESport Gamer Branch)

Goals:

Max programming skill.

Max video gaming skill.

Complete the MySims Trophies collection.

Attend and compete in every Geek Con convention.

Make five video games or apps.

Mentor your child/ren for five hours each.

Adaptations:

Gen 1:

If you do not have Discover University, go into the Business career (Management Branch).

Max cooking skill if you do not have Discover University.

If you do not have City Living, complete the postcards collection.

Gen 2:

Unlock the secret world in Oasis Springs if you do not have Get to Work.

Gen 3:

If you do not have Parenthood but do have Get to Work, max the baking skill.

If you do not have both Parenthood and Get to Work, max the gourmet cooking skill.

If you do not have Spa Day but do have Knifty Knitting, max the knitting skill.

If you do not have both Spa Day or Knifty Knitting, max the photography skill.

If you do not have Knifty Knitting, have a side passion of photography.

Gen 4:

If you do not have Discover University, read a new skill book every week instead of attending university.

Gen 5:

If you do not have City Living, have the  Fabulously Wealthy aspiration.

If you do not have City Living, live in Oasis Springs.

Gen 6:

Do not have a career if you do not have Eco-Lifestyle. Instead, craft item on the woodworking for money.

If you do not have Eco-Lifestyle, max the fishing skill instead of reaching level eight in candle making and juice fizzing.

If you do not have Cats and Dogs, move to Evergreen Harbor.

If you do not have both Cats and Dogs or Eco-Lifestyle, live in Willow Creek

If you do not have Eco-Lifestyle, have the self-assured trait instead.

If you do not have Eco-Lifestyle, have the Angling Ace aspiration.

Gen 7:

If you do not have City Living but do have Get Together, max the dancing skill.

If you do not have both City Living or Get Together, max the mixology skill.

Gen 8:

If you do not have Dogs and Cats, have the Freelance Botanist aspiration.

Do not have a career if you do not have Seasons. Instead, sell your plants for money.

If you do not have Seasons but have Get to Work, max the baking skill.

If you do not have both Seasons or Get to Work, max the violin skill.

If you do not have Dogs and Cats, but have Seasons, own three bees nests and two insect nests instead of owning pets.

If you do not have both Dogs and Cats or Seasons, have three children instead of having three pets.

If you do not have City Living, have the cheerful trait.

Gen 9:

If you do have Strangerville, go into the Military Career (I do not have it, so I played as a Secret Agent)

If you do have Snowy Escape, have the adventurous trait instead of the active trait (I do not have it but believe they would be adventurous).

If you do not have Discover University, read five skill books over different topics, instead of going to college.

Gen 10:

If you do not have City Living, compete in an online tournament weekly instead of going to Geek Con.