#but yeah don't mind me just something i noticed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lottins-only · 2 days ago

Text

CROSS THE LINE | Jude Bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader, unnamed fictional RM player x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

summary: after a fallout with your boyfriend, you find solace in a spontaneous night at the movies, where you run into his golden boy teammate. one thing leads to another and you cross the line.

A/N: first judith fic!! this was really fun to write. (very loosely) based on guilty as sin by taylor swift. let me know what yall think <3

warnings: infidelity (i don't condone it yall its just fun to write morally gray characters 🫣)

someone once told you there’s no such thing as bad thoughts – that it’s your actions that truly define you.

you wonder what they’d say if they saw you now: sitting up in bed with your boyfriend sound asleep beside you, staring at your phone with a pounding heart, silently hoping, waiting, for a message from someone else.

you wait and wait, but there’s nothing. your home screen stays empty, mocking you. you glance at your boyfriend. his shallow breathing fills the quiet room, steady and oblivious.

he has no idea you came home at 3 a.m. wearing his teammate’s jacket.

you'd stuffed it in the back of your closet as soon as you got home, a relic of a night that shouldn’t have happened. you'd scrubbed yourself thoroughly in the shower, trying to wash away the smell of jude’s cologne that clung to your skin. but it’s still there. not on your skin anymore, but in your mind, stamped into your memory to stay forever.

the way the flickering lights from the movie theater screen cast shadows on his beautiful face, the fleeting feeling of his warm hands on yours as he handed you his jacket, the full body rumble of his laugh, the feel of his soft lips on yours.

you will never forget. how could you, when that was the first time in months you’d felt seen? desired. wanted. needed. it’s an intoxicating feeling, like stepping into the sunlight after living in the shadows for the longest time.

and now, staring at your phone, you feel it all over again. the pull. the wrongness of it all.

a buzz breaks the silence. your heart jumps into your throat as the screen lights up and a single message appears.

jude: you got home safe?

it’s innocent enough. simple. harmless.

you could ignore it. pretend you didn’t see it. block his number and put an end to whatever this is before it spirals into something else.

but instead, your fingers move on their own accord.

you: yeah. thanks for checking.

you press send before you can stop yourself. you lock your phone and put it on the bedside table before closing your eyes and willing yourself to go to sleep.

to your credit, none of this was planned. it all starts earlier that night. you and your boyfriend are supposed to have a date night, a rare opportunity to spend some alone time together. you pick out a dress he once says is his favorite and make a dinner reservation at his favorite spot.

but plans change quickly.

“babe, the guys just texted,” he says, barely looking up from his phone. “they’re hopping on fifa in a bit. you don’t mind if we raincheck, right?”

you stare at him dumbfounded as he flops down onto the couch.

“raincheck?” your voice trembles, the tears obvious, yet he doesn’t even glance at you.

“yeah. just tonight, we’ll do something soon,” he says dismissively.

it’s not the first time he’s blown you off, but tonight it stings a little more. maybe it’s the fact that he’s so indifferent to you and your feelings, he doesn’t even care to notice the relationship is teetering on the edge of a cliff. he doesn’t realize that you’re making an effort to save it while he’s unknowingly contributing to its unraveling.

you realized it too late, but you know now you’re not a partner to him, not really. you’re a glorified accessory, someone he can show off for external validation, a dependable constant in his life that’s only there to cheer him on and make him look good while he gives his attention and energy to the things he actually cares about: his friends, his family, and above all, his football.

it wasn’t like this in the beginning, but things changed quickly after he made the move to real madrid and became a bigger star. with every goal, every headline, and every paparazzi photo, you sank further into the background of his life.

you linger for a moment, waiting for him to change his mind, to look up and realize what he’s doing. but he doesn’t. so you grab your bag and leave without saying another word.

the cinema isn’t your first choice. you wander the streets for a while, debating whether to call a friend or just head home. but you need a distraction, something that can dispel all the thoughts running through your head. so before you know it, you’re buying a single ticket to whatever is playing next.

the theater is almost empty. it isn’t until you sit down and glance at your ticket that you realize you’re not seeing something new, but a re-release of a classic: Goodfellas.

halfway through the movie, you see a figure slip into a seat a few rows ahead of you. a few moments pass, and you feel a pair of eyes boring into the back of your head. it’s distracting, like an itch. you can't bear to ignore it any longer so you turn your head and look straight at the person. the figure quickly shifts his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in the screen. his features are hidden thanks to the hoodie he’s wearing, but his height and broad shoulders give him away as a man.

you hold your gaze for a second longer, just to make sure he gets the message, before turning back to the screen. but your focus is broken after that.

a few more moments pass and you notice the man stand and make his way out of his row. you let out a quiet breath of relief, assuming he’s leaving. but from the corner of your eye, you see the same figure moving toward your seat. your body stiffens immediately. why is he coming your way? maybe it was a bad idea to come to a nearly empty theater alone so late at night.

you watch as he stops in front of you and slightly crouches to not block the view of the screen.

“y/n?” he asks, voice low yet familiar.

“uh, yeah?” you respond warily.

“thought it was you.” he pulls back his hood, revealing the grinning face of jude bellingham.

a wave of embarrassment immediately washes over you. it’s bad enough that your boyfriend doesn’t love you and prefers to spend time playing video games with his friends, but now you have to run into his teammate of all people while you’re publicly wallowing in your misery—his kind, handsome teammate who always makes you flush whenever you cross paths.

this time is no different. your face grows warm as you stutter, “oh! h-hi, jude.”

you brace for the questions: why are you here alone? where’s your boyfriend? why do you have tear stains on your cheeks?

they don’t come though. instead, he gestures to the seat next to you. “mind if i join you? my seat over there was right under the AC; i was freezing.”

you nod. jude flashes you a smile as he takes a seat.

and then nothing. you watch the rest of the movie silently, the only interaction between you being an elbow nudge from him to offer his pack of candy.

he’s completely engrossed. he laughs silently at certain scenes, and in the more intense ones lets out small gasps. for someone else, it might’ve been annoying, but for you, who’s used to your boyfriend’s indifference to everything, you find his enthusiasm refreshing, maybe even a little endearing.

you spend the rest of the movie mentally going through the list of things you know about him : he's the same age as you (your boyfriend begrudgingly posted a birthday wish on his instagram story once), he can't drive (you see him being picked up by a driver whenever you visit valdebebas), he's genuinely nice (he always says hi when he sees you around, and he's politely held a door open for you once or twice), his spanish isn't the best (you once ran into him hopelessly trying to change his order at the canteen, sheepishly apologizing to the annoyed barista before you helped him out), and your boyfriend quietly holds a dislike for him because he's 'attention seeking' ( you secretly think its not his fault that he's charming and easygoing, that he has everyone he meets wrapped around his finger).

when the movie ends and the lights begin to brighten, he turns to you.

"do you wanna get ice cream?"

you hesitate for a moment.

"yeah. i’d love to," you say finally.

you exit the cinema, and when the fresh outdoor air hits you, you ask the question at the tip of your tongue.

"why and how are you here?"

"could ask the same for you," he grins.

"yeah, but—" you begin, but are immediately silenced by the sight in front of you. jude reaches into the pocket of the jacket he's layered over his hoodie and pulls out a dreadlocked toupee. with the straightest face, he carefully pulls down his hood, places the wig on his head, and adjusts it before pulling the hood back up.

you blink.

"you were saying?" the corners of his mouth twitch at your facial expression. without waiting for a reply, he starts walking, leading you away from the cinema.

you walk in tandem, still giving him a confused look. when you catch sight of his (fake) locs swinging along to the rhythm of his steps, you can’t help it; you burst out laughing.

“what’s so funny?” he turns to you, a mock hurt look on his face. “i’m part jamaican, you know.”

you pause your walking, doubling over and clutching your stomach as you laugh. he stands patiently, looking slightly amused.

after you catch your breath and fully recover, you continue walking.

“so that’s how you go places unnoticed?” you ask, still giggling.

“yup,” he says. “otherwise it’s a nightmare. need a bodyguard and stuff.”

you nod sympathetically as you stroll down the quiet street, the soft glow of streetlights casting long shadows on the concrete. jude walks with an easy confidence, his hands in his pockets while you glance over at him and his toupee every so often.

“so,” he says after a moment, glancing sideways at you, “what’s your excuse? why are you at a late night showing of Goodfellas all by yourself?”

your smile falters slightly. you look straight ahead, debating how much to share.

“just needed to get out of the house,” you say with a light tone.

jude doesn’t push, though the way he hums softly in response tells you he notices your answer is only a half-truth.

"what about you?" you ask.

"I like watching movies," he says simply.

when you give him a somewhat confused look, he pulls out his phone and opens the letterboxd app, showing you the extensive list of movies he's marked as watched. you skim through it and you’re surprised by the diversity. the list is seemingly filled with movies of all genres, from classic films to indie flicks. you didn’t expect this side of him, but somehow it makes sense.

as he enthusiastically explains the list, you can't help but feel endeared by the excited look on his face. you have the overwhelming urge to reach out and smooth over his furrowed brow with your finger. but for the first and only time that night, you don't act on that impulse.

you reach a small gelato stand located on a corner of the street, its neon sign glowing softly. jude steps forward and leans against the counter.

“pick whatever you want,” he says, winking as he passes you the menu.

“don’t mind if i do,” you say, raising an eyebrow. you ignore the way his words make you feel—warm and fluttery, like this is a first date between two single people.

after a moment of deliberation, you pick pistachio and hazelnut, watching as jude leans in to order the same for himself.

“you copying me?”

“nah,” he says with a smirk, passing your cone to you from the server. “just figured you have good taste.”

you wander away from the stand, both of you savoring your ice cream. for a while, you walk in comfortable silence. at one point, he removes the ridiculous wig from his head. it isn’t until you reach a park bench that jude breaks the silence.

"you know," he starts. "i haven’t seen you at a lot of games lately. everything good between you and your boyfriend?"

“‘your boyfriend?’” you tease. “why not call him by his name? you guys have beef or something?”

he stays silent.

you gasp half-jokingly. “oh my god! tell me everything, so i can sell the story to the tabloids.”

he lets out a laugh at that.

“you’re ridiculous,” he says, shaking his head, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“c’mon, spill,” you tease, nudging his arm lightly. “is he, like, selfish? does he refuse to pass during games?”

jude chuckles, shaking his head again. “nah, nothing like that. he’s a good player. talented, hardworking… you just start noticing things when you’re around someone all the time, you know?”

he says it carefully, almost hesitantly. you tilt your head at him. “notice things like what?”

he shrugs, his gaze dropping to his melting cone. “like�� maybe he doesn’t appreciate what he’s got.”

the words hang in the air between you. you don't know how to respond, so you just gaze down at your own ice cream.

"sorry," jude says quickly. "didn't mean to overstep. i just—forget it."

"no, it's fine," you say quietly. "you're not wrong."

you sit in silence for a few moments. you feel him lean back against the bench, and the next time he speaks, his tone is lighter.

"my dad's coming to visit tomorrow," he says casually, an excited undertone in his voice.

"yeah? that's nice. does he come often?"

"not as much as i'd like," jude admits. "he's got my little brother to worry about in sunderland."

you smile softly. “what do you guys usually do when he visits?”

"usually we grab some food..."

he speaks about his bond with his dad, and also his close relationship with both his brother and mother. soon the conversation moves to childhood memories; jude tells you stories about growing up in birmingham, the football academy there, how he met his best friends at school. in return, you share stories of your own childhood, each one met with genuine curiosity from jude. you laugh, the conversation feeling effortlessly easy and natural.

it isn’t until you pull out your phone and glance at the screen to check the time that reality crashes back in. you have a boyfriend waiting for you at home. a boyfriend who hasn’t called, hasn’t texted, hasn’t even noticed that you’ve walked out of his house.

you lick the last remnants of your ice cream and are just about to crunch into the cone when jude gestures toward your chin. “you’ve got a little…” he says, trailing off as he points.

“oh,” you mumble while jude scans your surroundings for a tissue. finding none, he leans in and gently swipes at the bit of ice cream with his thumb.

“got it,” he murmurs, his touch lingering just a second longer than required.

what happens next can only be described as a a lapse in thinking, or maybe something you've been holding back all night. before your brain can catch up with your actions, you grab his hand and bring his thumb to your lips. you lick the ice cream away, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

jude freezes, his breath catching, his deep brown eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race.

"i—" you start, but whatever explanation you're about to give disappears when jude leans closer, his hand hovering near your face, as if waiting for your permission.

you don’t pull away. you don’t want to.

his lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, testing the waters. when you don’t push him away or move back, when, instead, you lean into him, his kiss deepens. it’s slow and deliberate, like he has all the time in the world to memorize every inch of you.

the ice cream cone in your hand is forgotten, melting onto the pavement as your fingers tangle into his hoodie, pulling him closer. the world fades, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble.

when you finally pull apart, your breaths mingle in the night air and jude’s forehead rests against yours.

“jude…” you whisper, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression serious. “tell me if I’ve crossed a line. i don’t want to make things harder for you.”

your heart flutters at the genuine care in his tone. you shake your head. “no, you didn’t.”

he doesn't keep his lips off you after that.

the next morning, you wake up feeling better than you have in months. there's a lightness in your chest, a warmth that’s been missing for what feels like forever.

you glance at your boyfriend, expecting to feel guilt or remorse. but there’s nothing. no pang of regret, no twist in your stomach. you feel... nothing at all.

you watch him roll out of bed and get ready for training. not a word passes between you as you sit down together in the kitchen to eat breakfast.

“so, what does your day look like today?” you try.

he doesn’t even look up, his attention entirely on his phone, scrolling with one hand while holding his fork with the other.

“i have a meeting at work that’s pretty—“ you start, but he cuts off.

“we’re doing penalty drills,” he mutters without looking up. “need to score more than bellingham so i can wipe that smug smile off his face. did you know he gets paid more than me?”

you just stare at him. you wonder what you even saw in him all those years ago. how had you overlooked the bitterness in his eyes, the envy? how had you missed it all along, his resentment towards anyone who seemed happier, luckier, more successful? his good looking face looks distorted to you now, forever changed to you to reflect the ugliness he holds inside. its as if you’re seeing him for who he really is for the very first time.

your phone buzzes on the table. without even checking, you know who it’s from.

jude: good morning :) sleep well?

you see it for what it is: an invitation to step into dangerous territory, to cross the line once more. a lifeline offering escape from the sinking ship that is your relationship.

you decide to take it.

you type a quick response and set the phone down. your boyfriend is grinning at an instagram reel now, completely absorbed.

you don’t speak to each other for the remainder of breakfast. this time it doesn't bother you at all.

#jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham fanfic #football fanfic #football imagine

128 notes · View notes

leannswritings · 13 hours ago

Text

Our Designer - Part 1

Summary - Crushing on your friend and co-worker is one thing...having wet dreams is another, now it's time to decide if you should confess or let it go.

Warnings ! - slight smut, straight yapping

Word count - 1.2k

A/N: hey....hey...pretend I didn't disappear for a year. I was another victim of the fanfic writer lore, I sadly disappeared due to health...lol. BUT I'M BACK. I'm currently obsessed with Arcane and Viktor. This chapter is just straight yapping tbh...but trust there will eventually be smut. I apologize if this isn't good I haven't wrote in a long time so...warnings. ANYWAYS ENJOY ♡

A once quiet and cold room, usually being filled with sounds of chalk against the board or short conversations every blue moon was now a room being filled with lewd and unrecognized noises.

You found yourself bent over a paper covered desk, you face pressed against those papers. You couldn't help but think about what would happen if someone walked into you bent over a table,with your friend—let alone a co-worker behind you.

"Vik-viktor.." You gasped out before your words went back to being untranslatable.

There was no reply, instead the grip on your wrist that was behind you tightened. The pleasure continued for minutes on end, until you started to hear talking and foot-steps. You didn't know how to react to the fact you could get caught in this compromised position, or you didn't know if you would even react seeing how you didn't even try to move a muscle.

The door finally opened, filling the room with a bright light.

——————

You jumped up in a sweat, looking around just to realize you were in the lab, your face was on the desk, and someone was walking into the lab. You turned around to see Jayce and Viktor walking in, still dumbfounded and in a daze.

"Good morning, did you pick up Viktor's habit of spending the night at the lab?"

Jayce said jokingly as he walked towards you. Though you couldn't quickly answer due to the fact you just had a wet dream about your friend, in the very lab you're in right now.

"Oh..yeah"

You said when Jayce finally laid his hand on your shoulder, snapping you back into the current reality.

"I was just trying to look into future designs for the hexgates...though I didn't expect to spend the night here."

It has only been a couple of weeks since the first hexgate has started being built, yet you feel it could be better, or maybe could be designed differently for different regions in the future.

" I'm not sure if I like the current design of the hexgate..I feel like I messed something up but I'm not sure what it is.."

You continued to talk about the hexgates, not noticing Viktor had walked over to look at your notes and drawings.

"Other than the eh..slob on the paper everything looks good. I don't believe there's a problem with current designs,but reinforcements won't hurt."

Man. Viktor looked so good leaned up against his cane, looking down at the paper he held in his hand, with the morning sun hitting his skin. You couldn't even respond, zoning out, just to stare at the beauty in front of you, tuning out the communication between Jayce,Him, and you who wouldn't react to the conversation. Your heartbeat fastened and the temperature of your face continued to rise as you stared at the beauty in front of you, slightly jealous.

"Correct?"

Viktor said to you, of course you didn't reply despite the hard stare going on, he sighed and waved in front of your face a few times. At this point he noticed what was going on, seeing how when you snapped back in you cleared your throat and stuttered before speaking.

"What? Oh..yeah"

You answer without even knowing the context. Everyone was staring at you in silence so you realized you maybe have been zoned out for too long, which was embarrassing. "I mean how could one dream mess me up this bad" was a repeated sentence in your mind, before you blurted out.

"Or maybe not."

Jayce's look changed into a slightly worried one. Exchanging that stupid concerned friend look with Viktor.

"Are you alright? You're acting a little strange. Maybe you overworked yourself...do you need to go home for the day.."

Jayce asked you yet again, placing his hand on your shoulder as if that was his way of confirming he wants you to go home yet softening the blow. Viktor also seemed to pick up your papers, organizing your mess so even if you made the excuse of you needing to organize at least before leaving Viktor would already be working on it.

"No..I'm fine, plus there's plenty of work to do, we are still in the early days of testing and designing, there's plenty of things that need to be figured out and talked ab—"

"Go home."

Viktor interpreted your explanation of why you should stay, looking very serious. It looked to them that you had overworked yourself causing you to zone out,oddly sweat, and look out of it. Jayce grabbed your bag before putting it in your arms and forcing you to stand up and walk towards the door.

"Just come back in a couple of hours if you really think you need to be here. Just get some rest...you look horrible."

He said with a smile before closing the door in your face. All you could do is stand there in shock for a little while.

"What a little smart-ass.."

You held onto your bag as you walked down the hall, thinking about what Jayce had just said, you've known Jayce since he moved to Piltover as a kid, and he's always had something smart to say yet always showed his worry for you, especially knowing you struggled with many things in the past. His smart remarks always gave you comfort, especially now giving you time to stray away from the thoughts of work to Viktor overflowing your mind.

————

You tossed your bag by your desk and fell back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. Being alone finally gave you time to think about Viktor, it was not a secret you had feelings for Viktor, he was exactly your type. Attractive,Introverted, and Intelligent. "A.I.I" is the code name you and your friends would use for him, they wholeheartedly believe he liked you back but you would always deny or say you both were "too busy to date" because of the recent launch. They would always mention him when they got the chance to see what updates they could get out of you, of course there was nothing ever new except for something small that you went on about that your friends would feed into, except for Caitlyn. She would always just tell you to admit your feelings instead of just giggling over such small things, funny coming from her, someone you knew could never express their feelings even from a young age. Jayce on the other hand..someone you couldn't tell about this, knowing him he would've already told Viktor or threw smart remarks towards you about the topic. Though you didn't tell him you were sure he knew anyways.

Now staring at your ceiling you wonder if you should just listen to her, and maybe that would chase these oddly good dreams away. The idea started to sound good until you started thinking about your work schedules and the workaholic he was. You also didn't want to take his mind off the more important matters at hand.

These thoughts and questions continued until you fell asleep, the sounds of your overthinking turned into silence, your mind finally calming.

#aracne #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor smut #viktor league of legends

97 notes · View notes

s4bbatical · 2 days ago

Text

Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want | Part 3. (Rivals Declan O'Hara x Reader 18+)

Part 1. Part 2. Warnings: profanities, consumption of alcohol and cigarette use. hints of sex! age gap (reader!22) enjoy!

━━━━━━☆━━━━━━

You're at your desk when you hear the news, the entire office in commotion as Cameron, Tony and Declan appear after the wrap of Declan's newest episode.

"Rupert said yes?" You gasp, smacking Seb's arm. "Fucking brilliant, man." You say, grinning. "Declan's gonna take a chunk out of his neck, it's gonna be grand." You look over at Declan, who's clinking glasses with Tony in his office.

"I'm just grateful our efforts aren't going to waste. Christ knows how much time we put into this sleazy bastard." Seb grumbles, crossing his arms.

"Why you look so down on yourself Seb?" You ask, standing up straight from your previous position of leaning against the oak desk.

"I don't know, y/n. Maybe you can figure that out yourself." He says bluntly, walking away towards the common space.

Your jaw drops slightly, throwing your arms up. "What the fuck?" You whisper to yourself, grabbing the back of your neck. You had been turning down Seb's advances on you due to your clandestine actions with Declan, not realizing how much of an impact it really had on the ginger. You knew he liked you a little more than just friends, you just hoped he'd let go of it sooner than later.

As far as you were concerned, still no one knew about you and Declan. You tried to stay focused on your work and not overthink it much, although it was on your mind every minute of your waking hours. Not telling anyone, especially your new best friend Taggie, was taking a toll on you. How does one tell another that they find their dad very attractive, and also have been banging him in his office after hours? It wasn't an easy feat for anyone. You tried to remind yourself that it was okay to have a little fun, as long as no one else knew about it.

You jump slightly as you notice Declan standing by your desk, straightening out your blazer as you nod towards him. "Declan, hi. Congratulations on securing the interview with Rupert." You say, giving him a smile.

"Thanks, y/n. You've been a great help with it all, I wouldn't be as confident as I am without you." He says, a smirk growing on his face. "Would you mind doing overtime on Saturday? To help me with additional flawed research?" He asks, now properly smiling.

"Ah, I would, but your daughter has asked me to accompany her in catering for Baddingham's falconery that day. I'm sorry." You admit, shrugging.

"That's alright. Will you be coming to our home for dinner afterwards, then?" He asks.

You grin, tapping your chin in thought satirically. "Yeah, I guess so." You say, letting out a small laugh.

"Great, see you then." He says, a light tap on your bottom as he walks away.

You gasp lightly, looking around hastily to ensure no one saw. "Unbelievable." You whisper to yourself, sitting down at your desk.

As Saturday rolls around, you find yourself bright and early at The Priory, attempting to hold back your yawns as you prepare cheese and fruit platters with Taggie.

"Can I ask you something?" Taggie asks, rinsing a bowl of grapes.

"Course, yeah. What's up?" You say, slicing wedges of brie.

"Do you think my dad should go through with interviewing Rupert?" She inquires timidly, putting the bowl of grapes on the kitchen table.

"Rupert is an asshole. He deserves anything that is thrown at him." You say bitterly out of respect for your friend, and her father.

"Y/n, I don't think he should go through with it." Taggie says, meeting your eyes. "I'm afraid my father will ruin him." She whispers, frowning.

"Taggie," You start, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Where is this coming from?" You ask, worried about her concerns.

"I think Rupert isn't as horrible as everyone thinks he is. He sincerely apologized to me, and I can tell he wasn't just doing it out of spite for me or my father." She explains, sighing. "After you left before the party ended, we slow danced together and..." She trails off, seeming upset with herself. "We shouldn't've, I know. But there's something about him that isn't worth destroying him over." She finishes.

You furrow your brows and purse your lips. "I'm not the one to call the shots on this, Tags. You know that." You say.

"My father listens to you better than me, for some reason." She says, causing your breath to go still. "I don't know why, but I would like for you to try saying something." She pleas. "For me, y/n. Please."

You let out a deep sigh, letting go of your breath. "Fine, I will. Don't get mad if he goes through with it, though." You mumble, reorganizing the assembly of cheeses.

"Thank you." Taggie smiles, giving you a side hug.

"Course." You whisper, it was the least you could do considering what secrets you've withheld from her already.

"Taggie!" Declan yells, entering the kitchen. He is taken aback by our presence, perhaps not expecting you so early in the morning. "Y/n, hello." He smiles. "Have you seen my plaid shirt your mum put out to dry?" He asks his daughter.

"I folded it up in your dresser, dad." Taggie says, causing Declan to nod.

"Right, course. Thank you darling." He places a kiss on her head, secretly gliding his fingers across your lower back as he steps away. "See you girls later." He says, waving as he exits the kitchen.

"Why'd you look at my dad like that?" She queries, nudging you.

"Like what?" You say defensively.

"Like he was a piece of meat." She says, scoffing.

"Your dad's hot, that's not my fault. It's not like I'm doing anything." You exclaim, raising your hands.

"Good, you better not." She says jokingly, grinning at the banter between the two of you.

You laugh, trying to not frown at your inner thoughts.

Only if you knew, Taggie. Only if.

Declan is in the office, going through evidence against Rupert as he notices Charles Fairburn reorganizing his office. "Charles!" He says out of surprise.

"Oh, hello." Charles says. "I didn't expect to see anybody."

"I'm researching Campbell-Black and needed something from my office." He says, approaching Fairburn.

"I never thought I'd see the day when Tony Baddingham had Declan O'Hara doing his dirty work." The road of Baddingham's distaste for Campbell-Black is a long one, and quite complicated enough even for you to even know about.

"I have my own reasons for wanting to take that bastard down." Declan interjects.

"You know, in different circumstances, you and Rupert could've been friends." Charles says simply. "Both complicated, both stubborn, misunderstood." He jests, putting down office supplies on his new desk.

"Bollocks." Declan states. "What are you doing in on a Saturday?" He queries.

Charles clicks his tongue, "Moving offices ahead of my grand return." He says, now holding a clipboard. "Apparently, my recent coronary episode makes me a medical liability." He says, referring to the panic attack that happened on New Years. "Which is why Cameron Cook is now controller of programmes and I'm--"

"Head of Religious Broadcasting." Declan says, reading the new plaque on the door underneath Charles' name. He looks back and gives him a look of sympathy.

Charles scoffs. "I can't begrudge her too much. Climbing the greasy pole requires its own set of skills." He mumbles, sitting down. "Especially when the greasy pole in question, lives in Tony Baddingham's trousers." He says sarcastically. A moment of silence passes by.

"How's the heart?" Declan asks, redirecting the conversation.

Charles sighs. "Oh, you know, broken." He goes quiet for a moment. "How's the new journalist, Declan?" He asks, watching as Declan's face contorts into bewilderment.

"What'd you mean by that?" He asks, attempting to act confused by Fairburn's statement. Heat rose to his face as his heart began to race.

Charles gives him a weak smile before speaking again. "I'm sorry for what I saw at the New Year's Eve party. I was out in the garden and wasn't expecting to see you, especially with y/n." He says quietly, Declan staying dead silent. Fuck.

"I'm not telling anyone." Charles adds, seeing the worry in O'Hara's face. "Don't show Tony any weakness, Declan." He abruptly says. "Or this is what you get." He whispers sadly, referring to his new demoted office space.

Declan looks down for a moment, unable to find words as he slowly walks away. He looks back again at Charles Fairburn before he returns to his office, closing the door and running a hand through his dark curls.

Charles knew of Declan's dirty secret, but regardless of what assurance he is given, he has to keep it completely under wraps now. He has to be careful, and so do you.

He notices a folder on his desk, opening it to reveal a note from the sender mentioning of a phone call regarding Rupert Campbell-Black accompanied by a photo. He grins, his worries dissipating as more evidence has landed in his lap. He folds it up tightly, enclosing it in a new envelope with a devilish grin.

You find yourself back at The Priory with Taggie later that afternoon, your stomach unwell from seeing all the dead birds that day.

"God, it's astounding how they manage to eat and drink so much while killing those innocent creatures." You say, taking a leftover ham sandwich and taking a bite out of it.

Declan enters the house, returning after his time at the office. "Ah, how was the shoot?"

"Well, they killed loads of birds," You say, swallowing your food.

"But they liked my food." Taggie finishes the sentence for you. Declan chuckles. "Rupert stopped by." She adds, crossing her arms.

You watch in bemusement as Declan reacts poorly. You take another bite of your sandwich.

"Oh, Jesus Christ. Is there no place free of that man?" He exclaims, walking away.

Taggie furrows her brows, looking over at you to do something.

You sigh, taking the last bite of your sandwich as you follow her father into the other room. "I'll talk to him." You mumble to Taggie as you pass her.

After quickening your pace, you follow him into the master bedroom, where he begins unloading his blazer. "You shouldn't be so harsh on Rupert, y'know." You begin to say, closing the door behind you.

"And what makes you think you have any say in that?" Declan replies with an edge in his voice, putting a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it.

"Taggie's forgiven him, I think you can let it go-"

"Let it go?! Let go of the fact that he groped my daughter? That my own wife still wants to sleep with him even though he's a horrible fucking bastard?!" Declan yells, aggressively huffing on his cigarette.

"Look, I understand where you're coming from Declan, but this could backfire and then what happens to you, huh? What if he ends up burying you into the ground instead of the other way around?!" You try to explain, holding your place as Declan begins to undo his shirt, tossing it onto the bed. You stare at his torso as he breathes heavily in anger, his chest rising and falling. Time and place, time and place.

"He will not do any such thing." Declan mutters harshly, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray atop his dresser. "You know that Charles Fairburn knows of us, huh?" He says, leaning against a bed post.

Your eyes widen, taken aback by his statement. "What? How?" You ask meekly, guilt mixed with fear rising up your throat from the pit of your stomach. "But no one saw us?" You whisper, beginning to pace back forth.

"Well he did." Declan states flatly. He grabs your arm and halts your movements. "He said he won't tell a soul, but this means we have to keep it controlled or this can no longer happen, y/n." He whispers firmly, staring into your eyes.

"I think I'd rather quit than stop whatever this is." You mumble, turning yourself completely towards Declan.

The two of you stare deeply at one another, Declan placing a hand on your cheek. "I need to control myself." He whispers, leaning in close enough to have his lips hover over yours.

"No one can see us now, Declan." You remind him.

The two of you come undone in multiple positions. You find yourself cuddled up beside Declan as he lights a cigarette, inhaling as he strokes your hair.

"Thanks for that, I needed a good fuck." You joke, closing your eyes as Declan hums.

"My pleasure." He grins, inhaling his cigarette once again.

"Wait, shit." You say, sitting up abruptly. Declan looks at you with confusion. "Taggie is still here, she must be concerned why it's taking so long." You say worriedly, getting out of the bed and retrieving your clothes.

Declan watches you with a smirk, his eyes trailing over your exposed body as you shimmy your underwear and jeans back on, following with your shirt.

You run over to Declan's side of the bed, pressing a firm kiss on his lips. "I'll see you for dinner, Mister O'Hara." You tease, smoothening your hair as you exit the grand master bedroom. He simply laughs, inhaling his cigarette.

You hurry down the hall, slowing down your pace as you look for Taggie.

"Tags?" You yell, eventually stumbling across Declan's study.

She had opened his file of evidence against Rupert, abruptly closing it when she hears you approach. "I-I was just looking through it, I'm sorry. Please don't tell my father." She says hastily, getting up from the desk chair.

"Taggie, relax. It's okay." You say, hoping nothing about your appearance gives away what you had been doing for the past half an hour. "I tried convincing him, I really did. He wouldn't budge, Tags." You admit, sighing. "Maybe you can warn Rupert, I don't know. I think your dad has more dirt on him than we know." You warn, running a hand through your hair.

"Maybe I should talk to him, then." Taggie says, beginning to walk past you.

"No-!" You say, grabbing her arm. She looks at you with confusion. "He seems exhausted, I think he needs to be left alone to be completely honest." You say, hoping Taggie would drop the whole thing for today.

"Alright, then." She says, your grasp loosening on her arm. "I'm gonna start making dinner, then. Care to help?" She asks, walking slowly out of the study.

"Always." You say with a smile, following Taggie out the door.

As the evening rolled around, you found yourself around the dining table with Taggie to your left, Maud and Caitlin on the other side as Declan sat at the head of the table.

"This food is incredible, Tag." Maud muses, taking another bite of the dish.

"It's y/n's recipe, actually." Taggie admits, smiling at you.

"Oh, y/n. Lovely job, then." Maud says, sending a smile towards you.

"Thanks Maud. It's my mom's favorite dish. I ate it a lot growing up." You say, taking a sip of wine.

"Hmm, American culture doesn't taste as bland as I thought, then." She remarks, taking another bite.

"Be nice, Maud." Declan warns, glaring at his wife.

"Actually, my mom's from Greece. It's Mediterranean, not American." You correct her, trying to hide a shit-faced grin behind your glass of wine.

Caitlin stifles a laugh, earning a light kick of the shin from Taggie.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." Maud apologizes, clearly embarrassed.

"No, it's okay. I agree, American food is god awful." You assure her, taking a bite of your meal.

"So, what's this big interview you've announced on live television about?" Maud says, looking over at Declan.

"Ah, I'm interviewing Rupert on Valentine's Day." He says casually, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"That's it?" Maud persists, raising a brow.

"He wants to take him down, mum." Taggie interjects, Declan scoffing at the statement.

"I'm not doing anything that he doesn't deserve." He emphasizes, taking a sip of his glass.

"Declan, don't you think you're taking this a bit too far? They're calling you the Corinium Butcher, for god's sake." Maud exasperates, putting down her cutlery.

"I am doing the interview the way I want to and that is that!" He states firmly. "Now, can you all get off my arse about it and enjoy this lovely meal y/n and Taggie put together? Christ." He exclaims, picking up his fork and taking another bite out of his dish.

Everyone goes quiet, returning to their meals.

You feel a bit cold in the room, the peaks of your breasts hardening as you realize something dire-- you've left your bra in their bedroom.

You clear your throat, standing up. "I have to use the restroom, if you'll excuse me." You say, hurriedly exiting the room.

You make your way down the hall from the foyer towards the master bedroom, slowly opening the door and flicking on the overhead light as you scan the room hastily for your bra.

You get down on your knees, looking underneath the bed on the opposite side from the door. You see it just within arms reach, stretching your arm out as the door opens.

"What are you doing?" Maud says, causing you to smack your forehead against the bedframe, unable to grab ahold of your bra as you stand up hastily.

"I uh, Taggie was giving me a tour earlier and I thought I lost my ring in here. I was just trying to find it because I realized I lost it when I was going to the washroom." You lie out of your ass, smiling oddly at a very confused Maud.

"Oh, what does it look like?" She asks, not realizing this ring did not exist whatsoever.

"It's small, really small. Honestly it was super cheap it's not that big of a deal!" You force out, making your way towards the door. "Let me know if you find it though, it was from my mom." You laugh awkwardly. "I'm going to the washroom now."

You hastily exit the bedroom, leaving Maud behind as you run into the nearby washroom and close the door behind you. You panic as you stare at yourself in the mirror, whispering profanities to yourself. You wash your hands as if you had dirtied them with your actions, almost afraid to return to the table.

You take a deep breath and open the door, walking back out to the dining table as you practice breathing normally.

Maud had already returned to eating her meal, seeming disinterested in your bizarre behaviors from before.

"Is everything alright?" Declan asks you, referring to your tense aura now present in conversation.

"Yes, everything's fine." You say, taking a sip of your wine.

"Y/n was trying to find a ring she lost earlier in the master bedroom, maybe you can keep an eye out for it too." Maud says nonchalantly to Declan, whose face drops at the mention of you being in their bedroom.

"Is that so?" He asks, coughing slightly as he tries to swallow his food down. "That's a shame. I'll keep it in mind then."

You watch as Maud gives him a puzzled look, her eyes squinting at her husband with suspicion.

"Would anyone like dessert?" Taggie asks, standing up.

"Me!" You say abruptly, also getting up. "Let me help you with that!" You offer, following Taggie into the kitchen.

She suddenly stops right by the kitchen island, causing you to bump into her. "Something's going on with you y/n. You've been acting weird all day. Is everything alright?" Taggie asks, a look of concern upon her face as she grabs ahold of your hands.

"Sorry, I'm just stressed out about the whole Rupert ordeal." It wasn't a complete lie, ever since you landed this internship you've felt like putting your head in a door way and slamming the door repeatedly on it. You couldn't imagine how many grudges these Lords hold against each other, it would've been disputed in an instant if you were back at home.

"I shouldn't have brought it up, I'm sorry." Taggie says, sighing. "I tried getting Rupert to step down earlier at the falconery, but he wouldn't listen. He's convinced my father doesn't have the capability to take him down." She whispers, afraid of her father overhearing the two of you.

You quickly glance into the next room where Declan was speaking to Caitlin, Maud seeming very displeased in the middle. "I don't know if we have any more options, Tags. I think we have to let them go at it." You say remorsefully, looking back at her.

"I'm not giving up just yet." She says firmly, picking up a platter of desserts as you shake your head, bringing out another bottle of wine to share.

It was now Friday, February 14th. You and Seb were in mid conversation when Cameron Cook comes barreling down the office floor, yelling about needing coffee.

"You'd think the promotion would make her happy, but she's angrier than ever." You say, closing your folder. Your desk phone starts to ring.

"I'll get the coffee, you get the phone." Seb says, walking around from your shared cubicle.

"Hello, y/n y/l/n speaking." You say.

"Look, I'm going to make this very clear y/n." Maud says on the other line. "I know that you are seeing my husband." She says, causing your eyes to nearly pop out of your skull.

You laugh breathlessly, looking around as you sit down, almost whispering into the phone. "What are you talking about?" You ask, your body beginning to sweat profusely.

Declan's wife has called you, at work, on the day of all god damn days, to confront you about your affairs.

"I found your bra underneath my bed when I was looking for something else." She says, almost sounding too calm for the circumstances she was speaking of. "I know I am one to talk, but I insist if you know any better, that you no longer see him. His work already keeps him away from our family, god forbid someone at The Corinium starts doing the same." She remarks, her tone never wavering.

Your jaw drops slightly, unable to find your words.

"Oh, and good luck tonight. Don't ruin my husband's career." She says, the line going dead.

You are left in dismay, slowly putting the phone back down on the hook. You look around your workspace once more in complete mortification.

"Oh god." You whisper to yourself, getting up to retrieve a cup of coffee to mask the fear building up inside. You couldn't fathom the audacity Maud O'Hara had to tell you to leave her husband be when she was trying to get with every other well-off man in the county.

All personal feelings aside, you knew you had to listen to her wishes in order to keep your job, and Declan's. It would be unfair to both parties if you kept this up.

You shakily pour the coffee pot into your mug, putting one cream and one sugar in after before stirring it with a spoon. You stare at the ground, unable to gather your thoughts up properly as Declan quickly walks past the kitchen with his focus on papers in his hands, taking a step back when he notices you standing idly.

"Y/n, what're doing just standing there?" He asks boastfully, causing you to jump and spill some coffee on your hand.

"Fuck," You whisper, wincing as you quickly run your hand under the cold tap.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Declan says, coming up beside you and placing his hand on yours. "Is your hand alright?"

You turn to face him, giving him a flat tone. "It's fine, thanks." You say, pulling away as you grab your coffee and step into the hallway. "I have work to do."

He grabs your arm. "What work? You've done it all already." He says, raising a brow. "Is everything alright?" He asks, his eyes full of concern.

"What? Haven't you heard the news?" You quip, staring at him with dread in your eyes. You hated yourself for developing feelings for Declan O'Hara. You were smarter than this, and to allow yourself to dig such an emotional hole was the last thing you needed for your brand-new career.

"Everything is fine, Mister O'Hara." You say, pulling your arm away from his grasp. His face drops when you refuse to use his first name. "Maybe you need to ask your wife the same question." You add bitterly, stepping away from him. His eyes widen at the mention of his wife.

"Elvis is about to enter the building." Seb says, him and Daysee both running down the hall past you two.

Declan looks you for a long, silent moment. "We'll discuss this later." He mutters, following them down the hall.

You close your eyes and sigh, walking away towards your desk.

You're now standing in the control room, biting your nails nervously as Daysee counts down Declan, now live broadcasting the interview. You exchange glances with Seb as Declan begins with mundane questions before hitting him with mildly offensive comments that will eventually snowball into something worse.

You cover your mouth as Declan brings up the topic of adultery, and how it must do Mr. Campbell-Black well for life within the Conservative Party.

"I'm sorry?" Rupert says with dismay.

"You know, sneaking around, lying, betrayal, sexual degeneracy." Declan lists nonchalantly, as if Rupert was born for such actions.

"Oh fuck." You mumble into your hand, Seb patting your shoulder with a sympathetic look.

"Remember, Declan's just doing his job." He reminds you.

"I'm no longer married." Rupert exclaims.

"Yeah, but you were, for six years! And yet throughout your marriage, your affairs were common knowledge." Declan states confidently, gesturing to the crowd. "I mean, one Gloucestershire peer has described you as 'rather a nasty virus that everyone's wife caught sooner or later.'" Declan reads off of a card.

"Well if you've seen his wife, it's definitely later." Rupert retorts towards the audience, causing everyone to laugh. Declan's jaw vividly tenses on camera.

You sigh putting your head in your hands. "Oh wow, that's great." You mumble to yourself.

"What a fucking arsehole." Seb mutters, crossing his arms.

"And that's the break in five..." Daysee begins counting down.

You nervously watch as Declan composes himself to announce the commercial break.

"That's time for break. When we return, who knows what Mister Campbell-Black might choose to share with us when we return." Declan says through a forced smile, looking directly at the camera. It felt like he was looking right at you.

"...and we're out." Daysee says.

"Thank fuck." You quickly exit the control room, needing to be elsewhere for the next three minutes. As you make your way through the halls, you run into Taggie.

"Taggie?" You say in a quizzical manner, causing her to turn and face you.

"Y/n, I'm here to talk to Rupert. Something's very wrong about this." She says urgently.

"Jesus, Taggie you can't-" You begin.

Rupert appears around the corner with his assistant. "Taggie, what are you doing here?" He asks her.

Taggie walks past you. "You need to go. Just walk out."

"Rupert, I advise you to not do that." You warn him.

Rupert laughs at you both. "Your father's not the first old socialist who's tried to catch me out." He reassures Taggie, putting his hand on her arm. "Whatever you're worried about, it's already out there."

"Taggie, you need leave-" You begin, tugging at her arm.

"No, I know him." Taggie says, ignoring you as she pulls away from your grasp. "He's saving the worst for later. When he wants something, he's ruthless." She warns him. "He'll do anything, I mean, he's-"

"He's just like you, Rupert." You say, pursing your lips.

"Exactly." Taggie says.

Cameron Cook appears, interrupting the conversation. "Minister, we need you back on set. The break's almost over." She directs Rupert, who keeps his gaze on you and Taggie.

"Listen to Miss Cook, Rupert. You have to go." You say.

"Just walk out of the building with me." Taggie interjects, pleading with her eyes.

"Minister!" Cameron snaps, glaring at Rupert.

"Screw this." You say, walking away from everyone. You return back to the control room, slamming the door behind you.

"What's going on?" Tony Baddingham asks, puffing on a cigar.

"Cameron has it under control." You simply say, returning to the corner with Seb and Daysee.

"What happened?" Seb asks quietly.

"Taggie's shown up to try and get Rupert to leave. She thinks Declan has more blackmail on him than we are aware of." You whisper, grabbing the back of your neck as you watch Daysee begin to count Declan back in.

"Where the fuck is he?" Tony says harshly, looking down through the viewing glass.

You hide your face behind your clipboard, unable to watch the scene about to unfold.

"Y/n look, Rupert's back." Seb says, tapping on your back to redirect your attention. You look over the clipboard at the monitors, watching Rupert Campbell-Black sit back down on the stage. Rupert begins to compare the interview to being back on the playing field.

"Seb, I don't have a good feeling about this." You say quietly, covering half your face with a clipboard.

"Just watch, relax." Seb whispers.

"It's an interview, there are no winners." Declan tells Rupert, who gives him a look.

"That's not true though, is it?" Rupert queries, looking towards the audience. "He wants to beat me." He exaggerates, giving a shit-faced grin.

Your eyes widen as Rupert begins to compare him to Declan, putting both of them under the same umbrella metaphorically. Declan brings it back around by repeatedly shitting on Campbell-Black, about to pull out an envelope from underneath his blazer as Rupert does something no one expected; admitting everything Declan has said to be true.

"Oh god." You whisper.

"I remember what it was like, to be the best. And what I was willing to do to stay there." Rupert says grimly. "What are you... willing to do?" Rupert asks in a taunting manner.

Declan goes quiet.

"To your family?... To yourself?" Rupert asks solemnly, the both of them having a stare down as the control room starts to light up in commotion.

You watch in fear as Tony urges Declan in his earpiece to take down Rupert, your eyes flickering between the multiple camera angles on a very, very quiet Declan.

"You're right." Declan finally says. "I'm a workaholic. And when I'm consumed by something... I can be, um... I can be a-"

"Monster." Rupert finishes the sentence, the both of them sharing a stare once again.

Rupert makes a comment about Declan being a better husband than he ever was, which causes you to look away from the screen when Declan argues against it. You couldn't help but feel as if you're one of Declan O'Hara's many flaws.

The interview starts to go in the opposite direction. You look back at the screen, watching Declan pull out his earpiece as Tony becomes enraged.

"If it's any consolation, we've made some really great television." Cameron Cook reasons.

"This would have worked if you'd just done your fucking job!" Tony yells at her, causing the rest of you to side eye him madly.

"Seb, I need to go home." You tell him flatly, putting your clipboard down.

"What? Y/n, the show isn't over yet! Where are you going?" Seb exclaims quietly, confused by your course of action. Daysee also gives you a look of worry.

"I just said home! I'll see you on Monday." You whisper aggressively, leaving the control room.

You hastily go over to your desk to retrieve your bag and coat. You glance over quickly at the viewing room the rest of the staff was in, your stomach tying in knots as the sight.

Heading down the hallway and the stairs, you push open the front doors and end up outside, where a massive group of fans stood awaiting Rupert Campbell-Black's return. They all share looks and noises of disappointment as they see you, an intern on the brink of tears instead of the acclaimed bachelor.

You push through the crowd, hurriedly approaching your car and unlocking it. You sit inside the beater and stare off in the distance. Your cheeks are stained with tears against your own will, your forehead resting upon the steering wheel as you begin to sob mercilessly.

You felt so hopeless amidst it all, no longer sure of yourself as you were before.

i will not lie this chapter was becoming so fucking long it's just gonna end up a continuation into the next part... also im lowkey too awkward to properly write out sex scenes because i give myself second hand embarrassment so forgive me this fanfic is plot driven over sex driven (':

as youve noticed ive started to follow by the episode plot line, it makes it easier for me to write and follow. thank you again for the support, and as always keep interacting with my works! keep me motivated ;)

much love,

isabel

#aidan turner #declan o’hara #declan o'hara x you #declan o'hara x reader #rivals fic #rivals 2024 #rivals

54 notes · View notes

str4ngr · 21 hours ago

Text

working. [ nanami kento ]

cw: none, fluff, white-collar worker nanami, no canon do not SPEAK of canon to me. fem! reader. not proofread. notes: guys this is a little long.

nanami accepted that most likely, work would be his eternity. working for a pension, wages that refused to be more than just enough for his month, dealing with a whining, nagging boss. nanami knew that he was nothing more than a ragdoll to the system in which he enlisted himself, helpless to the washing, merciless crashes of the white-collar workforce.

nanami accepted the routine of apartment to work to apartment. home, work, home. work, work, work. for whatever reason, a man who's gall to break routine was near zero, did just so, taking a detour to a shop a co-worker mentioned. as a connoisseur, that was his reasonably made excuse, he had to try the new bakery. it was an interesting choice of hobby—breads, baking, the whole lot, really—for someone who barely took any time for himself. but who wouldn't want to try the new bakery, a hole-in-the-wall-esque setting with dainty decoration, dainty music to match, and a not-so dainty, in terms of volume, baker at the front.

her smiles brightened the small shop, her laughter making his lips twitch. she bounced around her pride and joy, happily explaining all kinds of pastries, loafs, and how each is made. her nimble hands delicately wrapped each of his orders, always to-go, engaging in conversation he wouldn't usually care to give thought to.

but her voice echoed in his mind, his lips pursing together as she made some comment that made his chest rumble. nanami remembered her name, noticed when her nails changed colors, when her voice was a little slower than yesterday.

yesterday?

yesterday. a man of routines is a man of routines. of course, now you were a part of it. now, dropping by after work, picking up bread or pastries he didn't really need because he can't eat so many carbs without falling ill, watching you smile when he made a joke drier than the shahara desert—he couldn't help but show up, like an obligation he loved to attend.

nanami enjoyed the way your head perked up at the familiar sound of his shoes against the tile floors, like a song to a bird. nanami enjoyed how you always had his order packed earlier because, "kento," he especially cherished, if you will, how his first name sounded on your tongue, "you're always punctual!" and he was, for you. for you because when he was on time, that meant your conversations would last longer. about work, about news, about weather, about nothing.

soon, his routine changed again. it's been changing quite often in the past couple months, hasn't it? so has yours. now, you saw him after work, blouse still lightly dusted in flour. he was kind enough to brush it off for you, his warmth seeping through the cotton of your shirt. you walked together, the evening sun still glowing hot, and even though it was summer now, it's like his touch was hypnotic. even when his touch had only lingered for a moment, it was the only thing you could feel.

his smiles were so gentle, like a breeze, wisping across the gorgeous features of his face, crinkling his eyes, the apples of his cheeks slightly rounding, his teeth reflecting the light. you chased after his laughter light a dog without a leash, a sound—not noise—you never wanted to stop hearing. and although he wasn't much of a talker, oh when he did? his voice was like soft butter and rich cocoa, guiding your being through his words with is deep tone and slow tempo. nanami's voice felt like a sirens song so utterly impossible to ignore: infatuating.

nanami hoped that this routine would stay, no more work, work, work. something brighter, your entrancing smile, your playful laughter. something softer, like the taste of your pastries, or the scent of your perfume. something like you.

notes: yeah, im coping, so what? lowkey don't like this but yk what i do like? nanami kento!!!

#drabble #fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #nanami kento #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #nanami x reader fluff #nanami x you #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento x reader #jjk nanami #nanamin #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x you

51 notes · View notes

quintessenceofdust88 · 21 hours ago

Text

Little Blobs

Hey everyone!! I bring you a new chapter of Little Blobs on this fine Wednesday. From here on, I intend to follow a more logical timeline lol and we'll get to see how Buck's pregnancy progresses from the very start. I hope you enjoy it <3

“What's got you pouting so early in the morning, Buckaroo?"

Hen’s voice, paired with the smell of fresh coffee, manages to snap Buck out of his mind. He accepts the mug she’s placing in front of him automatically, but he didn’t drink it; he’s too nauseous. Or too guilty. Or both.

You see, there’s a reason why everybody calls Buck a human golden retriever. It was usually so rare for him to be in a mood, but lately... He’s so often tired, and so often nauseous, that it’s been hard to keep his spirits up. Like that morning with Tommy.

Even though they’ve been together for eighteen months, it was a rare occurrence for their shifts to align so perfectly that they could get ready for work together in the morning. Usually, those moments would make Buck giddy with the domesticity of it all. Not today, apparently.

From the minute he woke up, Buck had just been off, feeling tired and nauseous and out of sorts. And for no reason at all, he simply snapped at Tommy for the leftover fruit he had left in the blender (which, sure, could be a little annoying, but not *that* annoying). Buck knew right away that his "Damn, Tommy, how hard is it to keep things clean?! It's like living in a frat house again!" had been uncalled for.

Tommy had looked at him in surprise, muttered a "Sorry, Evan" and turned his back to Buck, apparently laser-focused on washing the blender. Buck knew right then that he should apologize, but he was still too pissy to do it, and their goodbyes had been frosty when they left for their respective stations.

And that's how Hen finds him, staring at the void and wondering if he should text Tommy and let him know how sorry he is or wait to do it in person once their 48-hour shifts are over.

Before Buck knows it, he’s spilling out to Hen, kind of expecting her to call him out for being an idiot to his husband, but instead, Hen hums thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I can't help but notice you *have* been moody lately, Buck. Far too moody for a newlywed, if you ask me" She teases lightly, and Buck gives her a half-hearted smile.

"I promise you, Tommy’s not the problem” He reassures her. “He’s not even complaining about my bitchiness and the fact I have slept on top of him every single time we've sat to watch a movie together for the last three weeks"

"Wait, you?!" Hen asks, her eyebrows going up. "Evan 'ball of energy' Buckley..."

"Buckley-Kinard" He corrects eagerly, his smile widening despite himself at that.

"My bad" Hen chuckles. "Evan 'ball of energy' Buckley-Kinard, falling asleep during movie nights? Aren’t you the one who’s usually researching fun facts and talking a mile a minute, instead of letting people actually listen to what’s going on?"

"Yeah!" Buck agrees, nodding enthusiastically, not even a little self-conscious; Tommy says his ramblings are cute. "But lately, I don't know, I... I thought maybe I was tired from wedding planning, but it’s been a month since we got married. I don’t know what’s going on, Hen"

"Hey, you two!" Bobby's voice interrupts whatever it is Hen planned to say. “Breakfast is about ready, wanna join the rest of us?”

And Buck intends to, truly he does. But the minute he approaches the kitchen and the smell of Bobby’s frittata reaches his nose, he can’t. The nausea that bubbles up in his stomach is too strong to ignore, and he finds himself rushing to the bathroom.

By the time he comes back, Bobby is waiting for him with worried eyes and a glass of ice cold water, that Buck gratefully sips slowly.

“Alright there, Buck?” He asks, and Buck nods sheepishly, not liking the way everyone’s looking at him as if he’d keel at any moment.

“Fine, Cap. Sorry about that. Think I caught a stomach bug or something” He mutters, still sipping his water, and Hen looks as if she’s about to add something when the bell rings.

They don’t get a chance to sit down and talk again, not in private anyway, but Buck feels Hen’s gaze landing upon him all through their 48-hour shift. It’s especially sharp when he falls asleep in the middle of the afternoon and when he barely touches Bobby’s meatloaf at dinner.

It’s a look that Hen has when she feels someone’s being particularly dense, and Buck’s not completely sure what he’s done to deserve it this time, other than being overly snappy and tired. By the time their shift is over, he’s more than ready to go home, wait for Tommy (he had sent an apology text that morning after all, and Tommy’s easy forgiveness had almost made him cry. And just about half an hour ago, Tommy texted that he was caught on a call and would probably be late, which almost made him cry again) and sleep for the next 12 hours.

Before he can leave, though, Hen’s voice calls from inside the station.

“Buck, wait!” She says, approaching him with a small paper bag in her hands.

“What’s that you got there, Hen? Don’t tell me you’ve gotten me a present” He teases her, and Hen looks uncertain.

“Well” She says carefully. “It all depends on how you’ll see things. And maybe I’m wrong anyway, but. I think you should take these”

She hands him the bag, and Buck opens it up to see three different brands of pregnancy tests inside. He widens his eyes, looking from the bag to Hen, and she’s looking expectantly at him.

“Hen, you don’t think I’m…” Buck can’t even say it; the possibility had never crossed his mind, and yet… It feels like his brain is short-circuiting as he revisits his latest symptoms in his mind.

“Well, why not? You are a carrier, aren’t you? You told me that when you were debating if you could be a surrogate to your friends” She says, and Buck nods dumbly. “And, well, I know you and Tommy get… busy with each other very often.”

“We…Well, yeah, but I take birth control” Buck says, frantically recalling the last few weeks in his mind and wondering if he could’ve forgotten to take the pill at some point. And then it dawns on him how frantic their wedding day had been, and yeah, he doesn’t remember taking it on that day. Or the day after. Or during their weekend honeymoon in San Diego (they had been… busy, as Hen would put it). “Oh, fuck, Hen, what if I’m pregnant?! I can’t be pregnant right now, it’s not the plan!”

“Buckaroo, I don’t know what the plan is, but life doesn’t tend to care for it. Maybe you’re not; I’m just saying it’s a possibility and you should check it” Hen says placatingly. “If it’s positive, you and Tommy will figure it out; if it’s negative, you owe me 30 bucks for the tests”

“There’s only one of me” He jokes automatically, but his mind is nowhere near it. “T-thanks anyway, Hen. I… I’ll take those as soon as I’m home” Before Tommy arrives, he decides; there’s no reason to get his husband worked up over nothing if they’re negative. And if they’re positive, Buck has some time to decide on how to tell him.

“You’re welcome, Buckaroo. When you have the results and are ready to share, let me know, ok? Good luck!”

She’s gone before Buck can ask if good luck means positive or negative. He’s not sure he knows what he wishes for right now.

Tommy turns off the engine in his truck, content to see Evan’s Jeep already in the garage. Content but not surprised, considering he got caught up in a search and rescue and is two hours late. He has a strong suspicion his husband’s been catching up on some sleep during those hours, because he hasn’t answered Tommy’s text asking what he wanted for dinner; he had gone with pizza as a safe bet, though Evan’s appetite had been all over the place lately. Tommy knows that the younger man can be stubborn about his health, but he will drag him to a doctor if he isn’t better by the weekend.

He tries to enter home without making much noise, putting the pizzas on the kitchen table. Evan’s not at the kitchen or living room, and the house is completely silent. Tommy makes his way to their bedroom, ready to gently wake Evan up so he can get some food in him before they go to bed for the night; they probably won’t get up to anything fun tonight, both of them exhausted from their shifts, but if Tommy has anything to say about it, they’ll spend the next 24 hours in their bed making up for it.

But when he gets to their bedroom, he’s surprised by an empty and still made bed, and no husband in sight. Tommy frowns, starting to worry.

“Evan?!” He calls.

“I’m in here…” Evan answers, his voice coming from the en-suite bathroom that Tommy hadn’t even noticed was with the door ajar. Something in Evan’s voice makes Tommy rush to it, and he opens the door to find his husband sitting on the floor; he looks up at him with dazed eyes, his fist tightly clutched around something Tommy can’t see.

“Babe, are you okay?! Was it your stomach again?” Tommy asks, kneeling down by his side and automatically raising his hand to feel Evan’s forehead; it’s not hot, and when he gently takes Tommy’s hand in his free one, Tommy sees it’s cold and sweaty. To his horror, he can also see tears pooling up in Evan’s eyes. “Did something happen, Evan?”

Evan laughs somewhat hysterically at that, which doesn’t help with Tommy’s nerves at all. Then he nods, caressing Tommy’s hand with his thumb, making gentle circles.

“Y-yeah, something happened. I… I figured out why I snapped at you the other day” He says, his voice thick, and Tommy lets out a sigh of relief.

“Sweetheart, I can’t believe you’re still thinking about that. It was nothing, I already said I…” He doesn’t get to finish the sentence, though, because Evan is opening Tommy’s hand and pressing the three plastic sticks that he was so tightly holding against it.

Tommy looks down at them with a frown, and his heart skips a beat when he realizes what they are: pregnancy tests. Two of them show two lines and, even if Tommy didn’t know what that means (he does; he absolutely does), the third one is a fancy digital kind that has the word in bold letters: PREGNANT.

He looks from the tests to Evan, his mouth agape, and his husband’s looking back at him with expectant blue eyes and the tiniest hint of a frown between his eyebrows.

“I… On the wedding frenzy I guess I forgot to take my pill” He says, and he takes Tommy’s stunned silence as a cue to continue. “I… I know it’s not the plan, I know we said we’d wait at least a year before kids, I…”

Tommy can’t take it anymore; in a move that has become signature by now, he grabs his chin and presses a gentle soft kiss against his mouth. When the kiss is done, Evan is the one left agape, while Tommy can’t stop a smile from widening across his face.

“Fuck the plan, Evan. Are you happy?” He asks earnestly; Tommy knows he is, and the more it dawns on him, the happier he gets. But it’s Evan’s body and Tommy knows he’s much more of a planner than himself, so he’ll rein in the excitement if Evan needs to process this differently.

But to his relief, Evan gives him that adorable crooked smile, looking down at the tests Tommy’s holding, and then at his own belly, then back at Tommy with eyes full of joy.

“Yeah, I’m happy. I’m fucking thrilled, Tommy. We’re having a baby!” He says, as it’s just dawning on him, and hearing him say it out loud makes it dawn on Tommy too.

They smile at each other like two idiots, and before Tommy knows it, he’s helping Evan up and pulling him in a tight hug, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. He lets out a delighted laugh, feeling happier than he’s ever felt before, except maybe for their wedding day.

“We’re having a baby, oh my God, that’s incredible. You’re incredible” He says, resting his chin on Evan’s shoulder, and then with a dawning sense of realization, he steps back, looking at him worriedly. “Oh my God, are you okay?! Is the baby okay? Can you tell if they’re okay?! Damn we need to schedule a doctor’s appointment, and probably start thinking about a nursery, and you have to talk to Bobby and…”

“Babe” Evan interrupts him, sounding way too amused (Tommy’s not often the one to freak out between the two) as he puts both his hand in Tommy’s face, effectively shutting him up. “I’m sure the baby’s fine. I’ll talk to Bobby on my next shift, and we can figure out everything else tomorrow. Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re making sense” Tommy easily agrees, nodding and looking at Evan with a scrutinizing gaze. “Are you okay, though, Evan? What do you need?”

“I’m fine, Tommy” He says, his voice sounding between exasperated and amused, but Tommy doesn’t care if he’s being overbearing. Evan is the most precious person in the world to him, and now he’s carrying the other most precious person in the world to him. Tommy will do anything for him. “What I need is food. I’m finally not feeling nauseous and I wanna take advantage of it while it lasts. Please tell me you brought dinner?”

“You didn’t answer me, so I brought pizza. But if you want anything else, anything else, I’ll go and get it in fifteen minutes max. Just name it, babe” Tommy offers, and Evan smiles bashfully, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Pizza is more than fine, but I might make use of this generosity at some point in the next nine months” He says, and Tommy knows it’s meant like a tease, but if anything, it sounds like a promise.

“Anytime you want” He says, and then his hand goes straight to Evan’s still flat belly. He can’t see or feel anything, but knowing their little one is there is enough to fill his heart for now. “For you two, anything, anytime”

“Hey” Evan says, putting his own hand on top of Tommy’s, his smile bright enough to outshine the Sun itself. “I love you”

“I love you too, Evan”

–

A smile spreads across her face, and she sends back a congrats, daddies!! before deleting both messages. Karen has full access to her phone and her to Karen’s, and she knows her wife can’t keep a secret for her life, so she won’t take any chances. But God is she happy for those two.

When Hen’s cellphone dings, she’s about to go to bed; after coming home from their 48-hour shift, she had helped Karen with the kids’ nightly routine and the two of them had spent some time together watching TV and drinking wine after tucking them in. Now she’s pleasantly sleepy and ready to enjoy a good night of sleep and then three whole blessed days off.

And yet, her conversation with Buck has been on the back of her mind all day. When Hen sees the message she got is from him, it’s with eager hands that she unlocks her phone and opens their thread. There’s only two emojis and five words looking back at her: 👶🏻👍🏻 but don’t tell anyone yet!

One thing Hen knows: they’re going to be wonderful fathers.

[More from Little Blobs Verse]

Tag list: (let me know if you'd like to be removed or if I missed anyone! Also if anyone else wants to be tagged, either on my fics in general or just the Little Blobs' Verse, let me know! ♥)

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21 @actuallyitsellie

#bucktommy #little blobs verse #tommy kinard #evan buckley #mpreg #mpreg evan buckley #pregnant buck #fluff #2.600 words

36 notes · View notes

igglemouse · 2 days ago

Text

Lets start this day with some big news! Our little Flora is officially too big for her crib which means she's grown some! They do grow fast, don't they? It's almost hard to keep up!

Just look at her! My little princesa! She's wiggling and cooing and happy as can be and what else is there to say? I'm soaking in the moment with her and have little else to say. I just feel so lucky and fortunate and I know I keep saying this but all my love is for her right now!

I would have played with her a little more but I think all that growing wore her out, as it tends to do, so I would let her have her nap and whip up a pizza! Pizzas are easy to make thankfully and this one will just be a regular classic pepperoni as you can't go wrong with that. I think I do make a pretty good pizza pie! That's amore!

I think the scent of pizza brings Pascal to the kitchen but when he arrives he's looking a little sad. I admit, the frown on his face makes me forget for a moment that he's been oogling models in his spare time and I can't wait to offer my emotional support.

"What's wrong?" I ask, putting aside his wandering eyes for just a moment. I bet it has something to do with futbol, usually if he's sad that is why, but I can't ignore one significant difference about him. "You umm, forget to shave?"

"That's just it, my razor broke and I might have to go out like this," he looks so disheartened even as he rubs the new beard that now adorns his face.

"You look great! In fact, I'd say keep it!"

"Well, if you say so."

I can't help but chuckle at how dramatic he's being. "You look fine either way! Actually, I think it suits you! You're a daddy now and it matures you some."

"I guess it's not so bad..." he mumbles although the frown on his face doesn't budge. I remind him that there is fresh pizza in the kitchen so if that doesn't make him feel a little better than I don't know what will.

I've decided not to bring up the model oogling just yet. Eventually, yes, but right now I just don't feel it is the right time. I've thought a lot about it last night but I want to keep those thoughts to the side, not let them consume me. He's a man. I know, that's a poor excuse, but it is also the truth. It is also the truth that really I'm still very very very much into him and that right now is enough for me to set it aside and give him the benefit of the doubt.

Instead, my mind drifts to bigger things, longer term things, another baby kind of things and maybe, hopefully, a proposal. Yeah, the big M. I can't help but wonder when it will happen or...if it will happen.

I'll be honest, I probably would've spent the rest of the night overthinking about Pascal's liking history on Simstagram but the moment I see Flora's little face it grounds me completely. She's the result of our passion and love and I won't throw that away on a whim. Feeding her, holding her, playing with her reminds me of what truly matters.

Oh! She loves to hiccup! That makes her a hiccuper? It's the most adorable thing, it's a squeaky little sound and whenever she does it she almost looks confused as if she's asking 'did I do that?' and I have to remind her to have manners! A little lady doesn't go around hiccuping at others after all!

And I love her so much that I am taking her everywhere I go in my little carrier. Thankfully, she's a quiet one and she's pretty calm about being carried around. Only wriggling and cooing here and there and hopefully taking in what will hopefully be her home for many years to come.

Oh! Also, as I'm out and about, I notice that people are recognizing me? Nothing major, a few waves and hellos along with my name "Frida!" and I can't help but wonder is it from my food stand or me new growing SimTube channel? Either way, it does feel nice to be noticed! There's even a fellow food stand chef who offered me a free hotdog but I had to decline because Flora started to whine and flail, her way of wanting to go back home I think.

Oh, and Pascal did spend time with Flora after he came back from a game. I SWEAR she was giving him the side-eye. I might have ummm vented to her about the traveling eyes of men. Not that she could understand a word I've said but maybe, just maybe, she picked up on it in my tone...or it could be she's unsure of him because she really doesn't get to see him too much, he's always working, after all.

Meanwhile, in the poorer part of town, Sara and Simón were curled up together in his humble trailer. He had called her over saying that there was something important they needed to discuss but it didn't end up being much of a conversation. Instead, he simply asked for her loyalty and her love.

She wanted to, she wanted him to be the one, Watcher how she wanted to. He could be her escape, her distraction, her addiction, her everything, how she wanted every bit of that, but she knows oft times the heart doesn't get what it wants. The brain though, the brain can be a lot more realistic with its desires.

"I know what you are," she said suddenly, the realization blowing past her like a chill breeze. Her hands roamed his chest, the tips of her fingers searching for something, reassurance, maybe? The mystery of him perhaps, the missing puzzle piece that would make this thing between them work.

"I know you'd figure it out," his reply was quiet and his voice heavy. He wasn't shocked. He wouldn't deny it or talk her out of it. He couldn't run from his past like Frida because he had become his past and now as he looked at Sara he wondered if she could ever be part of his future. If she should. The danger he could put her through..."So, what do you think?"

"I don't want this to end," she decided, the words surprising even herself. Maybe, just maybe, he was worth the risk. Love is always worth the risk...

Frida Varela - Next Episode 9.5

#The Sims #The Sims 4 #ts4 #Sims #Sims 4 #sims legacy #my sims #generation 1 #soot #sims of our time #pascal alcocer #frida varela #simon barrera #sara chavez #florencia alcocer

38 notes · View notes

senditcolton · 2 days ago

Text

A DAY LATE BUT OH MY GOD!! WHY ARE Y'ALL NOT REBLOGGING THIS MASTERPIECE?? (that's on me as well) DON'T TELL ME Y'ALL FORGOT ABOUT THE JOY THAT IS TYSON JOST!! I WILL BE SCREAMING ABOUT IT FOR THE NEXT YEAR PROBABLY!!

(speaking of screaming here it is, in-depth)

Let’s goooooo!!! I was excited when I heard Little Women inspired and now that it’s from YOU C!!! AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!

(also love the name Delaney – just one of my favorites)

Of course Tyson is the only person to think her ex is a douche

“the swell in her heart at the image of Tyson Jost holding her hand” *John Mulaney voice* NOW WE DON’T HAVE TIME TO UNPACK ALL OF THAT.

“such a kind gesture of friendship” this was the first of many times I was banging my head against my pillows. DELANY PLS

Yes you will have to kiss each other and it will be MAGICAL

The fact that they’ve both equated their feelings to being kids with crushes is so sweet

Tyson being soooo nervous to meet her dad!

“he found himself hoping that he was at the top of the list” I HOPE SO TOO TYSON

Tyson and Delaney are so cute already and their not even ~really~ together yet!

The way Delany’s family remind Tyson of his and how seamlessly they fit together 🩵🤍🩵🤍🩵🤍

“Though Delaney was sure he was referring to the glowing horizon in front of them, she found herself wishing that wasn’t all that he meant” IT’S NOT! (head in pillows x2)

Babe, you’re comparing him to your sisters significant others. That should be a siiiiigggggnnnn

“She was impressed at how well he was selling their fake relationship” (head in pillows x3)

“he didn’t fancy an awkward conversation over coffee” uh-huh sure Tyson, that’s definitely the only reason you’re staying in bed. Has nothing to do with your dream girl nestled against you.

Tyson being so good with all the kids is peak Josty in my mind

The way he is so happy at seeing her so relaxed MY HEART!

THIS EXCHANGE WITH OLIVIA HAD ME MELTING!!! The way she can see right through both Tyson and Delaney?? One of the first to be like ‘you two love each other, duh’. MY HEART!!!

“he was only there out of pity, not out of any sort of inkling of real feelings for her” (head in pillows x4)

TYSON’S DUMB LITTLE SMILE WHEN HE LOOKS AT HER!

Well, of course you’ve never noticed Delaney, that’s like rom-com 101

“she made a mental note to compliment Tyson on his acting abilities” (head in pillows x5)

“Tyson saw her in a way that Mark never had – maybe in a way that even her family never had” THAT MEANS SOMETHING!!!

THIS ENTIRE DATE!! OH MY GOD THEY ARE SO IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER IT IS SO PERFECT!

AND THEN TYSON HAD TO OPEN HIS MOUTH AND (accidentally) RUIN IT

“she really needed to ask him where he’d learn to be such a good actor” (head in pillows x6)

NOOO HE LOVES YOU!!! IT IS REAL!! GOD DAMMIT!!!

“Which is all I’ve wanted since we met”!?!??!?!?!

GOD SHE IS SUCH AN IDIOT! (AFFECTIONATE)

“You know, your mother and I looked at each other like that… like there was no one else around” DEAN I COULD KISS YOU ON THE MOUTH FOR THIS COMMENT THANK YOU

She was his Cape Cod!?!?!?!??!

“You said not to say it unless I meant it. I mean it” MELTED. PUDDLE. RIGHT NOW.

“I really, really would like to kiss you first” WHO WOULD SAY NO TO THAT?!

THIS FIC WAS MAGICAL!! I could so clearly feel the Little Women energy in every sentence. Delaney and her family, how close they all were, like AH MY HEART!! You nailed every single trope you chose i am over the moon so yeah overall =

Playing Pretend - Tyson Jost

Pairing: Tyson Jost x OC (f)

Summary: When Delaney Taylor needs a date to her family reunion, Tyson Jost volunteers his services. As they navigate their fake relationship, the line between what’s real and what isn’t begins to blur.

Word Count: 9.8k

Author's Note: Happy birthday, @senditcolton! Surprise, I was your Little Women anon 🤓🥳 I had a blast creating this and infusing the March family into the characters - I hope you enjoy! S/O to @wyattjohnston for helping to beta and to @smileysvech & @jostystyles for the extra details because I'm insane. 🖤 The birthday bingo prompts I selected were: Fake dating / Drunk confession / Argument Scene / She's oblivious / Free Space (Inspired by... Little Women)

Warnings: Angst, language, alcohol use. NHL Masterlist

A buzz on the coffee table alerted Delaney Taylor’s attention away from the television. Beside her, the gentle hum of a Theragun sounded over the low volume of an Avalanche game. She was at Tyson’s house, having accepted his invite to hang out and get takeout on his night off. They’d met through friends, and after finding a mutual interest in The Lagoons and bad reality TV, their friendship naturally veered off to form a branch and blossom on its own.

The phone buzzed again, prompting Delaney to lean forward and grab it upon seeing a text from her sister.

“Fuck,” she said, “Alyssa just texted asking for a final count for my family get together in July.”

“And that’s a bad thing… why? You love your family,” Tyson said, confused. He set down his Theragun on the ottoman, reaching for his water bottle. A car dealership commercial flashed on the screen.

Across from him on the couch, Delaney sighed. “I know. It’s just… I’m kind of the disappointment of the family.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I’m poor, in a mass amount of debt, and working at a Kohl’s instead of at the Met like I was supposed to by this time,” she said, counting each sin on her fingers. Lifting a fourth, she added, “Oh yeah, and I’m single.”

Tyson rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. They don’t care about that.”

“Maybe not, but I’m only 26 and they make me feel so pressured to get married, start having babies,” she sighed. “My older sister, Alyssa? Happily married with three kids. Violet? In a long-term, happy relationship. And Rachel—she’s not even married but she still has a baby who is basically the light of everyone’s life. Even both of my little sisters have ‘made it’ more than me. I’m just a grad school dropout who broke up with the boyfriend that everyone loved. They spent all of Christmas asking me if we were going to get back together.”

“Yeah, well, did you tell them that Mark was a fucking douche?” Tyson asked, to which Delaney snorted in amusement. You’re the only other person who seems to think so. He let the moment settle before adding, “Delaney, you don’t have to check all of the same boxes as your sisters. You’re literally the smartest person I know.”

“Dropping out of grad school does crazy things for your self confidence,” she said, heart heavy with defeat. It was over halfway through the semester, but saying it out loud never got easier. Delaney wondered what her former classmates were studying, if they missed her absence.

At the end of the fall semester, she’d been crushed to make the decision to pull out of her classes for the spring. Between work, schoolwork, and trying to balance the rest of her little free time between having a social life and having a healthy sleep schedule. her stress levels skyrocketed at the same rate as her student loan payment. It was a painful, but necessary, goodbye. Though she knew she made the right decision, she still felt sad and disappointed when her mind drifted, doing her best to quiet the what ifs that ran through her mind.

Delaney forced herself to focus her thoughts back to the present. “I just… I can’t stand to be a disappointment anymore. I already failed at being a grad student. I don’t want to have to fail at finding a boyfriend, too.”

“I’ll be your boyfriend.”

He blurted it out so quickly that Delaney stared at him for a moment before the confusion seeped in. “What?”

“I mean,” he said after a gulp of water, a slight tinge coating his cheeks, “I’ll come with you. Pretend to be your boyfriend. That way at least there’s one area they can’t rip on you for.”

“Tyson, I can’t ask you to do that,” she said, ignoring the swell in her heart at the image of Tyson Jost holding her hand. She didn’t have time to unpack that yet.

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” His voice was confident, like he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer, but gentle, like he’d back down if she really vetoed the offer a second time.

Delaney considered. She felt guilty at the thought of subjecting him to her entire family, making him put on the doting boyfriend act without anything in it for him. That was just how he was, though; generous, giving, willing to do anything for his friends. It really was such a kind gesture of friendship, it almost made her heart ache.

On the other hand, it would save her a headache—she couldn’t deny how much she dreaded the hopeful look in her dad’s eyes when he asked if she was seeing someone—and she did think Tyson would get along with her family. And who wouldn’t want Buffalo’s cutest resident to be her arm candy?

“Okay,” she agreed. “But you need to promise to tell me if you change your mind.”

“Deal,” Tyson said with a grin, holding out his hand. Delaney accepted, shaking it; she ignored the warmth of his palm pressed against hers. “What’s our story, then, babe?”

Heat instantly rose in her cheeks at the pet name. “Okay, rule number one, don’t overdo it with the nicknames. It’ll be too obvious.”

“So no snookums? Honey pie? Sugar plum?”

“No, no, and double no.”

“Aww man,” he pouted. “I was even gonna let you call me ‘cupcake.’”

Delaney rolled her eyes before returning to his original question. “I think our story is the same, for consistency’s sake: We met through friends.”

“Our first date was putt putt and dinner,” he supplied, nodding along. “Kissed you outside your apartment after the second.”

Again, warmth melted over Delaney’s face at the mention of kissing; she felt like a teenager getting teased for having a crush on a boy in her class. And then she realized that she would, in fact, probably have to kiss him on the trip, if they were really hoping to make it believable.

Judging by the way Tyson’s face turned a shade of crimson, she assumed he’d come to the same realization she had.

Maybe they were in for more than they anticipated.

Six weeks later, after creating an entire relationship backstory and studying Delaney’s family tree, Tyson was on a plane to Boston, Bose headphones snugly over his ears. How I Met Your Mother was playing on his iPhone, propped up on the tray table in front of him. Seated beside him was Delaney, lost in her Kindle. Her elbow rested against him on the armrest, her long braid tucked between their arms.

When they landed, Tyson knocked his knee against hers with a grin. A strange flare of nerves and excitement radiated in his chest for a moment, then was gone again.

“C’mon babe, I’ll get your bag for you,” he said. Delaney chuckled, shaking her head with a teasing roll of her eye.

He followed her to the rental car booth, waiting patiently while she sorted out the paperwork for a red Toyota Camry for the hour-long drive to Cape Cod. She nominated him road trip DJ, a title he wore with honor, and the two chatted comfortably as she made her way down the MA-3 South.

Nerves began to flutter again when the GPS had them exiting the highway and indicated he only had about eight more minutes to prepare for his new role as Delaney Taylor’s boyfriend. If she could tell, she didn’t say anything, and he did his best to hide it. He could handle being surrounded by reporters with cameras and phones shoved in his face, peppering him with the same questions about his career and his future; if he could handle that, he thought, he could handle meeting his pretend girlfriend’s family.

Soon enough, they were pulling into the driveway of a large white house, and not thirty seconds after Delaney put the car in park, a small blonde head was running down the front porch steps to greet his new girlfriend. Tyson smiled as he watched Delaney throw the door open and scoop the little girl into her arms before spinning her around in a hug.

Olivia. Delaney’s seven-year-old niece—and favorite one.

“I mean, of course I love all of my nieces and nephews,” she’d explained, “but Olivia and I are soul bonded.” “Liv,” she said gently after setting her down, “there’s someone I want you to meet.” When two wide, inquisitive eyes peered up at him, Tyson instantly understood why she was Delaney’s favorite. He crouched down to meet her gaze as Delaney introduced him. “Olivia, this is Tyson.”

Olivia eyed him and he smiled, waving. She studied him thoughtfully, then said, “Hi. Are you Aunt Delaney’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Is that okay?”

The little girl looked over to her aunt. “Do you like him?”

Delaney’s eyes flicked over to Tyson’s, an amused smile on her face. Heat lingered in his cheeks after her gaze returned to meet Olivia’s. “Yes, I like him.”

“Like-like him?”

“Yep.” Tyson felt a flutter in his chest, like he was a kid on a playground finding out his crush like-liked him too. He hoped it didn’t show on his face.

Olivia turned back to Tyson, observing him keenly for a moment before sticking out her hand. “Okay. It’s okay.”

Tyson laughed again, relief unexpectedly washing through him at her instant approval. “Thank you. I’m really so honored to get Princess Olivia’s blessing.”

The other introductions were easier—Alyssa and Ben (Olivia’s parents), Rachel (Delaney’s sister) and her eight month old daughter, Isla. Tyson smiled warmly at everyone, feeling almost instantly at home amongst the easy way they welcomed him in. Inside the house was the rest of the family: Delaney’s sister Violet, her girlfriend Preethi, Hailey and Noah (Olivia’s older siblings), and Delaney’s dad.

Though he knew it didn’t matter much if he actually made a good impression, as he’d likely never see her family again, Delaney’s father was the person Tyson was most nervous to meet; he knew firsthand what growing up in a single-parent home was like and how close the bond can become with the remaining parent. Based on everything he’d heard about Delaney’s relationship with her father, he knew it was an important impression to nail.

“Mr. Taylor,” he said, extending his hand for a firm handshake. He was surprised at the way his voice trembled slightly, though he did his best to hide his nerves with a smile. “Really great to meet you.”

“Call me Dean,” he said with a wide, genuine smile. It put Tyson at ease, even as he registered how much larger Dean’s hands were than his own.

They exchanged pleasantries, and Tyson was happy with how the first meeting was going. He was impressed with himself, though he couldn’t deny that it was Dean’s easygoing, warm nature that really made it seamless. As a single father of four girls, Tyson wondered how many people had come through the door with the intention of dating one of his daughters—how many people had Dean had this exact interaction with? He wondered what Mark’s was like. He wondered how he measured up.

Tyson told himself it was just his competitive nature, but he found himself hoping that he was at the top of the list.

After introductions, Tyson and Delaney brought their bags in and settled into the third bedroom on the left, their home for the week. Once the door closed, Delaney turned and asked, “How’re you doing out there?”

Tyson laughed, unzipping his bag to hang up a few of his shirts in the wardrobe. “Are you kidding? Your family is great, Delaney. I think we might have to get married. I want to come here every summer.”

“Relax, cowboy. You haven’t even had a single meal with them yet,” laughed Delaney. She was grateful her face was hidden as she knelt to pull her toiletry bag out of her suitcase. Heat burned in her cheeks even as a grin spread across her face. Then, eager to change the subject, she added, “You passed Olivia’s inspection.”

“Dude, I think I fell in love with her. Those eyes!?”

Snorting, Delaney nodded as she walked toward the bathroom to set her bag on the counter. “She does have beautiful eyes.”

She thought she heard him say something like, “Must run in the family,” and she opted to wash her hands in the sink in order to will away the burn on her cheeks before returning to the bedroom to finish unpacking.

They returned downstairs a little while later, having unpacked and changed out of travel clothes to something more beach-friendly. Though it was nearing the end of the day and the sun was beginning to go down, the kids were not ready to give up swimming and making sandcastles for the day. Delaney gestured for Tyson to make himself comfortable when they sat down in the chairs on the deck. A few others trickled out, giving Delaney the opportunity to sit and catch up with a smaller group at a time; she spoke with Rachel about Isla’s new daycare, asked Violet about her anatomy final, and told Preethi about the latest book she read. She was grateful that no one seemed to be interested in asking about her future career plans; for now, it seemed, everyone was content with her handsome, charming boyfriend.

Rachel’s eyes flicked over to Tyson, who was smiling as he took in the conversation. He didn’t have much to say or contribute, but he seemed perfectly happy just listening. It made Delaney’s heart twist a little bit at the thought.

“How you doing over there, buddy?” asked Rachel. Delaney cast an appreciative glance over at her sister, grateful that she was making an effort to include him.

“Me? Oh, I’m doing great,” he said with a grin after a sip of his Labatt. “You guys kind of remind me of my mom, sister, and cousins when they’re all together.”

“Wait, that’s really sweet,” Preethi cooed.

“Okay, you’ve heard us yapping,” Violet said after agreeing with a nod. “Tell us about this infamous Tyson—who I’m still pretty pissed that I only just learned about your existence.”

Delaney offered her sister a sheepish grin and a shrug as Tyson recited the story they’d concocted about their relationship, peppering in details about their first date and their transition from friends to more. Violet seemed skeptical at first, but she seemed to warm up when he shared that he’d harbored a crush on Delaney for months before he asked her out—somehow, that was enough to explain the lack of talk about him.

“We wanted to keep things light in the beginning,” she peppered in. “Just in case things didn’t work out. Didn’t want to make things weird with the rest of our friends.”

Tyson nodded, going along with her ad-libbing and taking it a step further by reaching his hand over to hold hers on the armrest of her Adirondack. His thumb stroked her knuckles, a quiet and subtle gesture of affection that sent warmth flooding to Delaney’s heart. “Fortunately, it worked out and we still have friends.”

It wasn’t long after that Rachel went inside to put Isla to sleep and Violet and Preethi left to pick up Chinese takeout for dinner, leaving Tyson and Delaney alone. The other kids had gone inside to shower, which left their view of the beach unmarred as the sun went down, oranges and purples dancing across the surface of the water. Warmth splayed over her legs, the cool breeze making an otherwise warm evening quite pleasant.

This, she thought, is pure happiness.

“Wow,” Tyson awed, “I mean, I believed you when you said it was beautiful, but this is… it’s insane.”

Delaney laughed, nudging his foot with hers.

“Thank you for coming,” she said softly after a pause. “It really—I can’t say how much it means to me that you really came and did… all this. For me.”

Tyson smiled, the chocolate of his eyes warm as his hand reached over to give hers another squeeze. “For this view? I should be thanking you.”

Though Delaney was sure he was referring to the glowing horizon in front of them, she found herself wishing that wasn’t all that he meant.

—

Dinner was simple, casual, and perfect, with everyone scattered around amongst the dining room table, kitchen bar, and coffee table in the living room. Delaney could feel her heart contract at the sight of it, her family, the sound of their voices and their laughter filling the room of her most favorite place on planet Earth. Every time she looked over at Tyson, he seemed to be laughing, that contagious, bright smile etched across his face. He flitted around, too; one moment, she’d see him at the table with Olivia, Noah, and Dean, the next, at the bar with Rachel, Alyssa, and Hailey.

She was surprised at the way in which he fit in with her family as if he’d been around for years, the way Ben and Preethi had. It was so natural; she was impressed at how well he was selling their fake relationship without missing a single beat. Not a single person, she mused, had any suspicion that it was all a sham.

It sure didn’t feel like a sham to her when he tugged his white t-shirt over his head, tossed it in his bag, and crawled into bed beside her later that night. Delaney did her best to keep from gaping, but she’d never even seen that many abs on a person, let alone the shape of his bicep and the tempting dip of muscles that disappeared into the waistband of his plaid pajama bottoms.

“So how’d I do?” he asked, pulling her out of her head—the one that was imagining exactly where those lines ended beneath the cotton material. Heat flushed to her cheeks, realizing how blatantly she’d been staring, darting her eyes away.

Delaney plugged her phone in on the nightstand and regained her composure before turning to face him. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

“Aw, thanks, buttercup,” he said, tapping her on the nose with a fingertip. “I’m ready to play so much Marco Polo with Olivia tomorrow.”

“You better get some beauty sleep if you’re planning to be the entertainment for the day. The girl’s got stamina.”

“Baby, I was born ready.”

When Tyson woke, it took him a moment to register where he was. The blue paint on the walls, the wooden beams, the spinning fan overhead was all unfamiliar, but there was something sweetly scented that he recognized.

Delaney.

She was sleeping beside him, hair disheveled and falling out of her loose braid. Her breathing was steady, soft, so quiet Tyson could barely hear it. He smiled, watching her for a few moments, appreciating the quiet simplicity of the house’s aura and the effect it had on Delaney; she seemed so at home, so comfortable, like she could take off the armor and be unapologetically herself. He liked seeing that side of her, like it was a privilege to be able to witness her at her most authentic self. He couldn’t wait to see more.

Delaney shifted, causing a strand of hair to fall into her face. Tyson felt a tug in his heart when she nuzzled into his warmth, exhaling softly.

He was her boyfriend now, and as much as he’d bonded with her family the night before, it was still early and he didn’t fancy an awkward conversation over coffee with the few people who had awoken. So, he gave himself a mental shrug and let her sink into the crook of his arm, savoring her warmth.

The subtle floral scent of her shampoo made its way into his nose, and the steady rise and fall of her chest lulled him back into a cat nap, morning sun warming the ocean-cool air. It was her stirring in his arms later, after the sun had risen higher in the sky, streaming light and buttery warmth through the window, that woke him again.

“You were snoring,” she said. Her freshly-awake voice was sleepy, softer than usual. “It was so cute.”

Tyson hummed a soft apology and his cheeks warmed, heat weaving its way through his body when he realized how much of her was pressed against him. He found himself both disappointed and grateful when she stretched and rose first, padding quietly into the bathroom. The bed beside him felt cold, empty, and it was only then that he realized how much he’d been relying on her body heat for warmth.

Breakfast was casual, everyone helping themselves to the assorted bagels, fruit, and yogurt in the fridge. Delaney’s leg brushed against his when he sat back down after a coffee refill, answering Noah’s earnest questions about how to become a professional athlete. He wasn’t sure how he did until he received a grateful look from Alyssa after he told Noah that he always made sure to eat all of his vegetables at dinner.

Since he didn’t need much time to prepare for a beach day, he offered to help Dean clean up the kitchen and load the dishwasher—he was confident he’d made a good first impression, but wanted to solidify a spot on the Good List. By the time he’d started the cycle, Delaney had returned from their shared room and Tyson nearly choked on his coffee when his eyes landed on her. He’d never seen her in anything less than a t-shirt and jeans, and the expanse of her golden skin wasn’t something he had prepared himself for.

Of course he’d noticed the way her eyes bulged when he took his shirt off before bed; he’d bitten his lip to keep from smiling. She had told him to act normal and be himself—it wasn’t his fault he preferred to sleep sans shirt. But after seeing her in beachwear, Tyson’s confidence in his ability to manage his emotions as Delaney’s fake boyfriend was starting to waver. The black linen pants she sported were enough to have him sweating for a moment before he collected himself, tearing his eyes away from the curve of her ass.

Fortunately—and unfortunately—for him, he didn’t have much time to dwell on how well her pants fit her hips and her ass, for Olivia was barreling down the dock, followed closely by Noah, both of whom were calling to Tyson to help them build the world’s largest sand kingdom. Delaney grinned at him, offering a sympathetic shrug before he was being tugged to a spot on the beach by Olivia.

Right away, she directed him to dig the moat, while she and Noah worked on starting the base. Tyson kept the conversation going, asking them both about school and letting them ask him questions about life as a hockey player. Every so often, he’d glance over at Delaney, sitting on the deck with Rachel, Isla, Violet, and Preethi. He smiled at the light in her eyes as she sat, chatting and laughing with her family that he knew she missed dearly. For the first time in a few weeks, she was smiling, the weight on her shoulders temporarily lifted.

This was why he came. Why he traveled 500 miles from home, voluntarily staying in a house full of strangers and was now elbow-deep in wet sand: To take away a pressure point so that she could enjoy her weekend with her family without the unspoken still-single? narratives. She thanked him more times than he could count, but it honestly hadn’t even occurred to him as something that was worth thanking him for.

She was a friend, and she needed something from him. Simple. There was no decision to make. If she needed him, he was there. When a friend asks for help, you help ‘em.

Even if it meant he had to spend an entire weekend with her loud, large family and pretend to be her boyfriend.

Something about playing that role, envisioning himself as the man beside her in her life, made him feel… warm? And kind of fuzzy? Prior to arriving, he’d been a bit anxious at the immense pressure of being able to act the part and pull it all off, but being Delaney’s boyfriend was easy. Her warmth attracted everyone; it was only natural to be drawn to her.

“Tyson?” Olivia’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Are you gonna marry Aunt Dee?”

Tyson felt his cheeks tinge with pink heat, stuttering for an answer; he got the strange sense that Olivia had been reading his thoughts. His gaze flicked over to the girl in question, gently rocking Isla in her arms. For a brief moment, his brain conjured the idea that she was holding their daughter, and he couldn’t keep up with the surge of emotions in his chest.

He cleared his throat, blinking away the thought. “Um, yeah. Maybe. Do you think I should?”

“Yeah,” she said after a moment of introspection. “She smiles a lot with you.”

“She does?”

“Duh. You’re her boyfriend.”

Tyson hummed, letting Olivia drop a handful of sand into the bucket he was holding. He packed it in before helping Noah place the next section of the wall.

He’d be so lucky to marry someone half as wonderful as Delaney.

The sun warmed Delaney’s skin, amplified by Isla’s body heat, sleeping soundly in her arms. She smiled down at her newest niece, drinking in her tiny features.

“You got yourself a good one, Del,” Rachel said, causing Delaney to glance up at the use of her name. “He’s wonderful.”

Delaney swallowed the urge to respond that Tyson wasn’t hers, that he could only ever be hers in her dreams—or, in this case, in an entirely fake scenario. Even in the first 24 hours, everything had come so naturally to them, she had to remind herself that he was only there out of pity, not out of any sort of inkling of real feelings for her. The thought stung, but she pushed it aside to unpack later.

“It’s actually so sweet how in love with you he is,” Violet agreed. “I love watching him look at you.”

“Oh my God, right?” Preethi gushed. “Every time I look over at him, he’s staring at you with that dumb little smile on his face. It’s so cute.”

The thump of her heart quickened at her family’s words. She’d never seen the looks they were talking about. In fact, she’d never even seen him looking in her direction when she’d sneak glances at him across the room, keeping tabs on his whereabouts and if he generally appeared to be enjoying himself.

“Do you loooove him?” Violet asked. Her sing-song voice made Delaney roll her eyes.

“No, of course not,” she said, far too quickly, before she realized that being in love with her boyfriend is kind of the end goal when in a relationship. “I mean, not yet. It’s not been that long.”

She ignored Rachel’s glance, allowing Violet to nudge her knee with her own. “Alright. Well, no time like the present.”

“Judging by the way he looks at you, I think your boy is already there,” Rachel said.

Heat surged to Delaney’s cheeks. She knew it wasn’t true, but they had every reason to believe it. It was strange to be at the center of a lie, watching as the strings began to weave an intricate pattern—all because she couldn’t bear to disappoint her family again.

And Tyson had been more than willing to jump in and help her; in fact, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. She was overwhelmed with his generosity, his kindness. The display of friendship made her heart ache. And now, here he was, convincing everyone in her life that he was her boyfriend—so well that her sisters were convinced that this wonderful man was in love with her.

She made a mental note to compliment Tyson on his acting abilities. “Stop. He’s not.”

“Girl,” Violet said disbelievingly. “You go off to la la land with that dopey-ass smile on your face when your sister says he’s in love with you, and you think you don’t love him?”

“Let her get there on her own, Vi,” Preethi said, resting a hand gently on her girlfriend’s arm. She winked at Delaney before saying, “You’re right, though.”

After another roll of her eyes, Delaney glanced to the sparkling water beyond the dock for a reprieve from her interrogation. The waves softly rolled toward the shore, whispering her name on their breath. She nudged Isla into her sister’s arms before rising from her seat, stretching. “It’s time.”

Rachel’s “Have fun!” followed Delaney as she headed down the dock, slipping her linen cover-up down her legs and tightening the straps on her bikini. At the end, she wasted no time diving in, letting the water surround her.

Delaney swam around, letting the coolness of the water soothe her warm skin. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d been coming to this place, and something about the feeling of the water on her skin was cleansing; purifying even. The weight of the world seemed to melt away in this place, pressures and stressors and everything else muted while she was there with her people.

This time around was different. This time, her life back at home was in shambles, unable to catch a break. But this time, she also had Tyson by her side, there to alleviate the pressure so she could have an escape. His presence was different from how Mark’s had been, despite the fact that Mark was actually her boyfriend. Tyson seemed to understand her, listened without judgment, supported her without question.

Tyson saw her in a way that Mark never had—maybe in a way that even her family never had.

—

Tyson was helping Olivia put the final touches on the sandcastle, which included a garage for her Barbie Jeep, when movement on the porch steps caught his eye. His throat went dry when he saw what—or who—was making their way toward the water.

Delaney, stripping out of that linen outfit, excitedly speed-walking down the dock. He felt heat rush to his cheeks, his heart thudding in his chest. Unable to help the way his eyes traveled over her skin, he let his gaze drag up her legs, over her curves. Fuck. She looked good.

A shriek sounded beside him, and Tyson’s eyes went wide as his head whipped to Olivia. Only when he saw her smiling did he realize that she was shrieking with joy, presumably at the sight of Delaney jumping in the water, if the cheering was any indication.

“Aunt Dee! Aunt Dee!” she squealed, dropping her sand shovel and running back toward the shed. She handed him a Frozen floaty, indicating for him to help her blow it up. Once she was situated, the floaties wrapped securely around her upper arms, she was bounding down the dock toward her aunt. The sound of a splash, followed shortly by a squeal and laughter informed Tyson that she had successfully made it.

He smiled fondly, making his own way down to the end of the dock where Delaney was helping Olivia make a whirlpool.

“Incoming!” he shouted, tossing his t-shirt and sunglasses to the side before he cannonballed in amidst screams from both girls. Rising to the surface, he was met with splashes from Olivia’s tiny feet, which he quickly grabbed and tugged her toward him to lug her over his shoulders. Another squeal left her mouth as he launched her—safely—out of his arms, crashing into the water.

Delaney laughed beside him, watching Olivia’s triumphant smile as she rose to the surface. Moments too late, she realized that she was Tyson’s next target, her eyes going wide when his hands found her waist. He ignored the feeling of her skin beneath his fingertips and the way she fit in his arms as he lifted her, too—much to Olivia’s delight, who was chanting for him to toss Delaney.

“One, two—”

“Tyson, put me down!” Delaney shrieked.

With a wink at Olivia, he shrugged and said, “You asked.” With that, he launched her and watched her land in the water with a satisfying splash. When she emerged, Olivia was laughing so hard that Tyson couldn’t help but join in. Delaney spluttered, sending a splash of ocean water toward him that he quickly dodged.

He turned to Olivia, still giggling, and ignored Delaney’s sharp protests beside him. His eyebrow raised and he leaned in to Olivia. “We playing mermaids next, or what?”

Prior to arriving at the Taylor family cottage, Delaney had taught Tyson the family dynamics and the Annual Family vacation rules. First and foremost, to relax and spend time with family. If you weren’t having fun, you weren’t required to participate in anything—and there was usually so much going on that it wasn’t difficult to find something to do.

Another rule they’d developed early on was that each couple gets a guaranteed, guilt-free date night. Established after Hailey was born so that Alyssa and Ben could have a night to themselves, it had simply stuck as each sister added a significant other to the ever-growing Taylor family.

When Violet announced that Tyson and Delaney’s assigned night was Wednesday, his faux girlfriend was quick to assure him behind closed doors that they didn’t have to do anything crazy— “like a real date, or anything.” Tyson, though, brushed her off and was determined to commit fully to the bit.

It took a fair bit of wrangling and no shortage of dawdling to get himself alone with Alyssa to ask where he should take Delaney on a date. He couldn’t explain why his cheeks were so warm talking with her, taking note of her suggestions like he was in a Calculus class. While their relationship was a farce, he reasoned, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t take Delaney out for a memorable evening.

When the night arrived, Tyson fought a flutter of nerves in his chest. He had to actively fight the feeling of being a 16-year-old boy nervous for his first date, despite the fact that he was well into his twenties and had quite literally been sharing a bed with his date for three days. Waiting downstairs with Preethi, Violet, and Hailey, he did his best to act normal like it wasn’t his first-ever date with Delaney.

Like a scene from a movie, he felt his heart leap into his throat when she made her way down the stairs. She was stunning, despite having thrown on “just a sundress”; the body of the dress fit her torso like a glove, the skirt flowing at her waist. A milkmaid dress, he was told it was called—whatever it was, he liked it.

Dinner was simple, one of Alyssa’s top recommendations at which he somehow managed to snag the last remaining reservation. Once they arrived, he understood why: the wall facing the beach was made entirely of windows, leaving the entire restaurant a gorgeous view of the bay and the subsequent sunset. The room was already beginning to fill with the rich oranges and pinks as the sun slid closer and closer to the horizon.

“How romantic,” Delaney commented with a smirk, nudging him with her elbow. “Candlelit dinner at sunset? Should I be expecting a proposal later?”

Tyson’s face split into a grin, patting his pocket. He could’ve sworn his arm radiated warmth when she pulled away from him. “Shh. Don’t ruin the surprise!”

“Aww, you’re so sweet, honey bee.”

The meal itself was good—homemade pasta and some kind of whipped eggplant that had him contemplating ordering a second helping—but the highlight was sitting across the table from Delaney, talking freely and feeling on top of the world when she laughed at his stupid jokes. The flickering flame of the candle on her face, illuminating her skin, her smile, the glint of her necklace resting on her collarbones; her thick hair falling in loose waves, the strands around her face soft and so very Delaney. All of it—all of her—had completely sucked him in, fully underneath her spell and he couldn’t have been happier.

Tyson didn’t realize how much he’d been craving her individual attention until he had her uninhibited attention: her eyes locked on his, so in tune and in touch with everything he was saying, nodding along enthusiastically with every word out of his mouth. It was intoxicating to have her all to himself, immersed in him as he was in her.

He was addicted.

Tyson saw the waitress lingering out of the corner of his eye, praying she wouldn’t interrupt Delaney’s story—something about a new exhibit at Buffalo’s art museum; honestly, he was mostly just consumed by the spark in her eyes. Instead of checking in, the waitress approached the table silently, refilling water glasses and wine without a word before walking away.

I’m tipping you 50%, he thought to himself, leaning right back into everything Delaney, Delaney, Delaney.

Eventually, the waitress did return and burst their bubble, but Tyson was already on cloud nine, suggesting a walk on the boardwalk to get ice cream just to prolong the feeling for a little longer. The evening breeze paired with the lack of sun had goosebumps dotting Delaney’s arms, and it was all too easy for him to slip an arm over her shoulder and tuck her into his warmth.

Driving home was like a scene from a movie, her phone plugged into the aux cord and Taylor Swift’s You Belong With Me blaring from the speakers. With a grin, Delaney cranked the volume up and Tyson found himself loudly singing the words alongside her; fortunately, the sound of his off-tune serenade was drowned out by the music. She sang to him, using her fist as a microphone as she danced in the passenger seat of his car.

Pulling in the driveway didn’t stop Tyson from continuing his performance, instead throwing open the door and running around to open Delaney’s, tugging her out to spin her in a circle at the instrumental break. He pulled her back into his arms, relishing the laughter she let out when he dipped her backwards.

The song faded to its end, the sound replaced by a softer one, the melody sweet and lulling. A faint beachy breeze blew past, and Tyson found himself pulling Delaney’s body closer. Her eyes were warm, looking up at him with a softness that made his heart melt and time stand still.

Tyson told himself it was gravity that drew him in, pulling him closer to her lips, suddenly yearning to know what her lip gloss tasted like. The world came to a spinning halt around him when he pressed his mouth to hers, like the universe wanted him to savor the moment. He kissed her more firmly, a strange tug in his chest letting his tongue flit against the seam of her mouth. She tasted sweet, like the strawberry ice cream he’d bought her on the boardwalk.

His hand moved up to her neck, cupping the side of her jaw to deepen the kiss, savoring the next sigh she expelled. He didn’t want to ever stop kissing her, not now that he finally knew what her lips felt like against his own. It warmed him from the inside out, like a buttery sunshine spreading through his veins, pulsing in time with the beat of his heart.

Tyson forced himself to pull away, consciousness seeping back in through the Delaney-infused haze surrounding him. The expression painted on her face was dreamy, her eyes unfocused as she blinked them open, a little hitch of surprise in her throat as reality seeped back in around them. He swallowed the urge to kiss her again.

—

Blinking, Delaney stood in shock. A rush of cool air hit her face from the space that Tyson had just occupied. She blinked again, lips tingling.

Once Delaney managed to get her wits about her, she did her best to keep her voice level. “You didn’t have to… we don’t have to—”

Tyson’s smile was nearly enough to make her knees wobble—though she was stabilized by his hands firm on her waist. He didn’t seem to be nearly as impacted as she was—heart thumping rapidly in her chest, mouth dry, fumbling to right herself on shaky legs. “Violet and Preethi have been spying on us from the upstairs window for ten minutes.”

“Oh.”

In an instant, Delaney deflated. She glanced down at her feet, trying to hide her embarrassment—at both the idea of her intimate moment being impeded on, and at her own stupidity for thinking that the entire evening hadn’t been just an act. He’d been so sweet, so perfect, that she’d allowed herself to really believe in their lie, even for just a few hours. She could’ve sworn there was something so genuine about the way he held her hand on the boardwalk, the way his eyes watched her lips—

And that kiss. She really needed to ask him where he’d learn to be such a good actor, because he was convincing.

“C’mon, pookie,” Tyson said, taking her hand. Her thoughts vanished upon hearing his voice. “We’ve given them enough to look at.”

Back in the house, they were greeted by a few people in the sitting room, gathered on the couches watching a movie. Ignoring the barely-hidden grins from Violet and Preethi, Delaney offered a quick ‘hello’ and exchanged a few words about dinner before heading upstairs—“I’m tired,” was her excuse.

She hoped her family didn’t notice that she couldn’t get upstairs fast enough.

Inside the locked bathroom, she turned on the faucet to imitate washing her face. Instead, her face crumpled as a sob wracked her body, warm tears spilling freely out of her eyes. The shift from on top of the world after the kiss to the fall in realizing it was all for show was jarring; she knew what she was agreeing to when he offered to pose as her boyfriend, but she hadn’t thought of the tease it would be for her heart to have Tyson be hers for the week. It hurt more than she’d expected to have him openly acting, to know what it felt like to kiss him and have it be all for show.

The little smiles, soft touches on the back of her arm as he’d pass in the kitchen, the brush of his fingertips on her waist in the lake. All of it so natural, sly, clandestine, like he wanted it to be a secret just for the two of them—and because it wasn’t an elaborate public display to uphold the falsehood for her family, it had only naturally drawn her to the conclusion that maybe there was some truth behind it.

That kind of thinking was too good to be true, she told herself. She wasn’t the main character of some romance novel; she was just Delaney.

And guys like Tyson didn’t go for girls like Delaney.

The next few days passed peacefully: jet skiing, swimming, and plenty of mermaids. If Tyson could sense any change in her after their date, he didn’t show it. In fact, if anything, he’d doubled down on his affection, brushing her cheek with his lips when he walked by, falling asleep with an arm loose around her hip, stroking the back of her hand by the fire.

It was wonderful and infuriating all at once. Delaney couldn’t help but lean into him, unable to resist his touch, even though she knew it would crush her even more once Sunday rolled around and it was time to leave. She could barely even think about telling her family they’d ‘broken up’—but she was getting ahead of herself.

She knew she should bring it up with him, tell him how she felt, but she couldn’t bear to make things weird and ruin the rest of the trip. For the rest of the week, she reasoned, she’d let herself live in the fantasy. Enjoy another few days of blissful ignorance. And she’d deal with the consequences of her actions later.

Hurt feelings were future Delaney’s problem.

It was Friday when the kids announced that everyone was cordially invited to a play performed by them that evening. Both Delaney and Tyson helped them to construct a few of the props necessary—including a reindeer made out of a tarp and a bike and multiple paper crowns.

Before the show, Delaney followed Tyson into the kitchen to retrieve a beverage for the show. As she poured herself a glass of wine, Tyson passed behind her, hand brushing against her waist when he reached past her to grab a High Noon from the fridge. They turned at the same time, bumping into one another, causing her white wine to spill down her front.

“Shit, I’m sorry—” she said, only to have him interrupt with a sudden kiss.

Initially caught off guard, it only took her a few moments to recover before she was kissing back, addicted to the feeling of his lips against hers. That same beautiful warmth filled her, a kind of light that she only experienced with him. She wanted to devour him, to have him devour her, to think and feel nothing but Tyson—

And then he pulled away. Lips wet, cheeks flushed, she could see the emotion swirling behind his beautiful brown eyes. “Delaney—”

But, with her wits about her now that he wasn’t making her dizzy with his kiss, she knew what came next. She interrupted him before he could finish. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” Tyson’s brows furrowed together, confusion knitting between them. “Don’t what?”

Delaney shook her head and repeated herself. “Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t want to hear it. It isn’t fair.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You think you’re catching feelings, right? Because you’ve had to act like it all week.”

Tyson blinked, clearly surprised that she’d taken the words out of his mouth. But the surprised expression quickly morphed into one of frustration.

“So you’re not even going to give me the chance to speak?”

“I can’t hear you say it, Tyson—not unless you mean it,” Delaney said, then added softly, “Not when this has been the best week of my life because I’ve gotten to pretend you were mine—which is all I’ve wanted since we met.”

She watched his eyes soften, and the pity she imagined there nearly made her sick. It was a necessary evil, though; she needed to intercept his confession before he said it out loud. She couldn’t bear to hear him emit those words, couldn’t hear him confirm what she knew to be true: a future with her wasn’t in the cards for him. He’d never say it, probably wouldn’t even admit it to himself, but she knew that he was too good for her, that someone like her didn’t deserve someone like him. She wasn’t ready to burst the final bubble of her beautiful fantasy, leaving her cold and sad and alone.

But instead of sympathy, or a patronizing statement, Tyson adopted a bite to his words. “You think I fell for you on purpose? I didn’t have a choice, Delaney.”

Something about the way he said it felt like a slash to her heart, like he had fallen for her but wished he hadn’t. It stung more than she expected, more than him simply not reciprocating her feelings.

“This was your idea in the first place, Tyson. You committed to this,” she reminded him coolly. “It’s not my fault you’ve never seen a rom-com before. I didn’t force you to do shit.”

“Delaney, that’s not what I’m saying—”

Against her will, tightness formed in her throat, a sting hot behind her eyes. “I thought I could handle it. Having you be mine. I’ve always known it would come to an end, that I’d have to go back to life as it was. But I didn’t realize how much different it’d be knowing how it feels to kiss you, to hold your hand. To have you look at me like I’m the only person in the world.”

“Then you should’ve fucking told me that before you let me be your boyfriend!”

This is going nowhere, she thought to herself. She needed to walk away from him, right now, before the wall of tears threatening to burst through came pouring out.

Delaney took a breath, searching for the words that would wound him the way he wounded her. She steeled herself, feeling a cool exterior blanket her and harden into place like a cast. “Well, I didn’t. Sue me. I just need you to do your job for another 24 hours, and after that, we don’t ever have to speak again. Okay?”

She turned on her heel without waiting for a response, though she heard him say her name as she walked back outside to where her family was gathered on the patio. Her body thrummed as she returned to Rachel’s side, her younger sister casting a glance of concern in her direction. Delaney ignored her, smiling and turning to Hailey, Noah, and Olivia’s performance—Frozen, the musical.

A movement in her periphery told her that Tyson, too, had returned to the group, taking the seat beside the makeshift stage that Olivia had saved for him. She could feel his gaze lingering on her, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him.

“Good?” Rachel’s voice was quiet, subtle, concerned. Delaney nodded, and she knew that her sister knew she wasn’t, in fact, good. She was grateful that Rachel knew her well enough to know to let it be, that she’d talk when she was ready. For now, Delaney wanted to stew a little bit.

So stew she did, staying mostly quiet as the musical wrapped up. The performers received a standing ovation before a fire was started and the usual chatter began. Darkness fell, the moon rising higher in the sky, their voices swallowed by the night air. Delaney offered a few comments here and there and helped Noah with his s’more, watching the group dwindle as more and more of them went off to bed for the night. Tyson, to his credit, remained by the fire too, helping to keep the kindle stocked—almost like he was saying, ‘I can go all night.’

But so could she.

—

The crackle of the wood and the lick of the flames hypnotized Tyson, pulling him in and quieting thoughts running through his mind as he replayed the conversation they’d had. Admittedly, he’d lost his temper a little bit, frustrated that Delaney wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise, that she’d somehow made him out to be the bad guy.

As the kids began to make their way to bed, Tyson indulged in another beer—or three. Not enough to be drunk drunk, but enough to wash away some of the rogue emotions swimming around inside of him. He kept his eye on Delaney, who appeared to be stewing silently across from him and refusing to make eye contact with him.

But he was determined; he wasn’t going to let her slip away—not this time. Not after her confession. Not when he still had things to say that she needed to hear.

So he waited, making casual conversation with those remaining, the chairs around him slowly emptying out until it was only him, Dean, and Delaney remaining. He cast another glance over to her, startled to see her already looking at him. He couldn’t read the expression on her face, but he held her gaze through the tips of the orange flames dancing between them regardless. Something in his heart swelled, even though he was pretty sure he’d fucked it all up—he just wasn’t exactly sure what he did wrong.

“You know, your mother and I looked at each other like that.”

With a blink, Delaney broke eye contact to turn and look at Dean. Tyson had never heard her talk about her mom, save for an occasional memory. Her lips parted—in surprise, maybe—before she said, “Like what?”

“Like there was no one else around,” Dean said simply.

Delaney’s eyes flicked to Tyson’s. He swallowed carefully, suddenly all too aware at Dean’s implication, whether intentional or not. As her boyfriend, he was supposed to want a future with her: that was the end goal.

He didn’t have to feel guilty.

So he smiled, letting her see the warmth and happiness that Dean’s statement filled him with. He wanted her to know that when he was with her, the rest of the world faded away.

She was his Cape Cod. His escape from the upcoming pressures of free agency, of the already-exhausting training regimen that waited for him upon return home, of his future in the NHL on the line. With Delaney, none of it seemed to matter so much. As long as she was by his side, everything seemed like it’d be okay.

“Goodnight, you two,” said Dean’s amused voice. In his inner monologue, Tyson had completely forgotten that Dean was around, and he jumped slightly when he’d interrupted his train of thought. “Put the fire out when you come inside, will you?”

“Yeah,” Delaney called after him, glancing back at Tyson. “Goodnight, dad.”

Tyson waited until the crunch of Dean’s shoes on the sand disappeared up the lighted walkway to the house. “Delaney…”

“I’m sorry,” she interrupted. “I was being selfish. I shouldn’t have— it wasn’t fair of me to not even let you say your piece.”

“I didn't know how you felt. I… I wish you’d told me,” he said, gently. “I wouldn’t have wanted to tease you.”

“I didn’t want to make things weird between us,” she confessed. “I didn’t really think about anything being different after this.”

Tyson nodded in understanding. The fire crackled beside him, burning bright in the cool darkness around them. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or his proximity to Delaney that made everything seem so damn beautiful. Probably a mix of both.

“You can say your piece now. I won’t interrupt this time.” She smiled, following where his gaze had just been, watching a spark pop beneath one of the logs.

“It’s not much of a piece,” he said. “I didn’t really think about how I was going to say this.”

“So, just say it.”

“I love you.”

Delaney snorted, rolling her eyes. “Tyson, you’re drunk.”

“I know. This isn’t exactly the way I envisioned first saying it to you, but I need you to know,” he confessed, aware that he was on the verge of drunk rambling. He composed himself and repeated, “I love you, Delaney.”

Delaney’s smile faded, staring at him. Her eyes studied his face, almost like she was searching for the truth in his own eyes. Convinced he could prove it, he stood and walked around the fire, moving into the empty seat beside her—only wobbling once en route. Her breath caught in her throat at the new proximity and he reached across the armrest to take her hand in his.

“You said not to say it unless I meant it,” he whispered. “I mean it.”

He watched as the weight of his words settled in, even drunk Tyson having enough wherewithal to know that it was time for silence. Slowly, a smile began to spread across her features.

Illuminated by the glow of the fire, Tyson thought it was the most beautiful he’d ever seen her look.

“Are you still gonna mean it when we leave here on Sunday?” she asked, eyeing him. “You’re not going to get back to Buffalo and shake out of this vacation high?”

“Whatever you need me to do to prove it to you, I will,” he said solemnly. “But I really, really would like to kiss you first, if that’s okay with you.”

Her eyes widened with surprise, just briefly, but then she was smiling again and nodding. With a finesse that only a drunk person could manage, he leaned forward to cup her jaw with his hand, nose brushing her own affectionately. He savored the feeling of her breath against his lips and closed his eyes.

As it had both times before, her kiss lit him on fire from the inside out. He poured himself into her, hoping that he could convey his sincerity with the depth of his kiss.

SIX WEEKS LATER

The buzz of her phone had Delaney setting down the Lego instruction booklet to glance at it. Smiling at the contact photo—Tyson, freshly awoken, his hair sticking straight up—she turned the screen to Noah, earning a wide smile with an extra tooth missing. She swiped to answer, letting the camera face her nephew.

“Noah! Hey, buddy,” Tyson’s voice greeted with a laugh. “What’re you up to?”

“We’re making a Spiderman Lego set! Look!”

“Wow, that’s awesome. I wish I could do it with you. You look like a real hockey player with those teeth missing.”

Noah smiled again, showing off the two gaps where his baby teeth had recently fallen out. Delaney started to flip the camera back to herself when a voice sounded from the other room. “Tyson! Tyson!”

Little feet pattered excitedly through the doorway, Olivia’s face beaming as she ran to grab the phone from Delaney’s hands. “Hi, Tyson.”

“Hey, Liv. When are you coming to visit me and Aunt Dee?”

She jumped up and down excitedly, looking at Delaney. “Aunt Dee said we can come and have a sleepover over winter break!”

“That sounds awesome. We can wear matching pajamas,” he said, earning a giggle from Olivia, who launched into an elaborate itinerary for their slumber party, including candy, a makeover, and a Frozen marathon.

“I can’t wait,” he said. “Hey, do you think I could talk to Aunt Dee?”

With a nod, Olivia said her goodbyes and made him promise to text her goodnight. Flipping the camera back to herself, Delaney smiled and raised her eyebrows. “Hi.”

“Hi, muffin,” he said, an easy smile curling up on his own face. He was sitting outside on a porch, curls peeking out from under a gray hoodie. “How was your interview?”

“Really good. We’re going to schedule a final interview at the museum next week once I get back. I’m pretty sure I’m going to get the job.”

Tyson’s smile grew wider. “That’s great news. One step closer to the Met!”

“I’m good with Buffalo’s art museum for now,” she said. “I don’t want to be that far from you.”

“Aww, honey bear,” he teased. Delaney wrinkled her nose, rolling her eyes at him. Her interview had been over video call, taken from Ben’s office at their house in Rochester. If all went well, she would soon become Buffalo AKG Art Museum’s new Membership Coordinator.

Things were looking up for her. And even though life wasn’t perfect, she had Tyson and her family to help her get through whatever came her way.